"I don't see you on the list," said Ronald Weasley, frowning as he ran a finger down his seating arrangements chart. "What did you say your name was, again? I didn't quite catch it."
Oleandra glanced at the three boys loitering near Ron by a great big marquee in the orchard next to the Burrow: Fred, George, and some red-headed bloke she didn't recognise, probably a Weasley from some branch of the family, much like the freckled girl she was impersonating.
"That's because I didn't," said Oleandra casually, layering her words with magic. "Why don't you look again? I shouldn't be too far down from my Great-Great-Grandaunt Muriel."
Conveniently, dense threads of Fairy Magic visible only to her trailed from each of their bodies, fluttering in the breeze. Her ability to use her Fairy Magic on them so easily was, somewhat ludicrously, down to her being mistaken as involved in the plot to assassinate Dumbledore.
Of course, Oleandra would much rather have stayed on friendly terms with Dumbledore's faction, but now that the tale of her supposed betrayal had swept through the magical community, she figured she might as well make use of it. Anyone who'd heard Harry's version of Dumbledore's death had become the perfect target for her magic, which, in turn, had given her the nerve to walk straight into the lion's den all by herself.
"Oh, there you are," said Ron, his eyes glazing over as he rechecked his seating plans. "Cousin Dahlia. Oh, hang on— we forgot to put out a chair for you."
"I'll take care of it— come on, er… Dahlia, you can stay here under the tent until I get back," the unnamed Weasley boy offered, clearly eager to escape the summer sun, judging by his dress robes damp with sweat. "Let's see if I can't scrounge up a chair from the kitchen for you, or something."
"You should bring back a few more, just to be sure," one of the Weasley twins said lazily. "There's bound to be not enough… Cousin Barney."
"Why don't I help you carry them, then?" Oleandra proposed.
Not one to stand on ceremony with guests, the Weasley boys accepted Oleandra's kind offer, since fetching pre-existing chairs was easier than remembering the specific Conjuration spell to make them. And just like that, she was following the slightly overweight boy across the orchard to the Weasley's ancestral home.
Oleandra had never been to the Burrow before, but it had been rather easy for her to find it from the air. Standing isolated from the village of Ottery St Catchpole, the Weasleys' home towered over the nearest houses; a pillar of ordinary houses haphazardly stacked on top of each other, topped with a red roof and with a few chimneys jutting out at impossible angles.
"Say, I don't think we've met before," said the boy, making small talk as they approached the Burrow. "Are you in Hufflepuff, or Ravenclaw, maybe?"
On the way from London, Oleandra had chosen the first red-headed Muggle girl of roughly her size and build she had happened to find, stealing her appearance with Perthro, the rune of secrecy and concealment. However, the Wizarding community was notoriously insular; everyone knew everyone, and nearly everyone had attended Hogwarts at some point or another.
So, it wasn't as if her disguise was entirely foolproof, even though there were too many Weasleys scattered across the country to count— but Oleandra wasn't the only suspicious person here.
There was something off about this so-called Cousin Barney. For one, his magical aura practically radiated falsehood— it resembled the aura of someone who had taken Polyjuice potion, something Oleandra had come to recognise after discovering Professor Moody was an imposter. He also had more threads of Fairy Magic emanating from him than even Ron.
Who else but the source of the Dumbledore misunderstanding would be carrying so many?
"I've never seen you before either, Cousin Barney," Oleandra countered. "You wouldn't happen to be Harry Potter, would you?"
The boy sagged.
"Is it that obvious?" Harry sighed, basically admitting that she was right. "You're the second one after Luna to guess it right."
Oleandra pinched her lips.
The Looney girl was abnormal, so it was best to steer clear of her… but aside from that, wasn't this a golden opportunity to seize the Cloak of Invisibility? Oleandra was nearly certain Harry's cloak was the legendary third Deathly Hallow, and if he really was staying with the Weasleys, then surely it had to be here too…
Oleandra glanced over her shoulder as they stepped into the Burrow. The queue outside the marquee was thinning quickly— a good sign that the wedding ceremony was about to begin. On the one hand, this meant the house would be more or less empty. On the other, it meant people would soon come looking for Harry if he didn't appear…
"Dagaaaaaz…" Oleandra whispered, concentrating on Harry's red-headed figure in front of her.
The kitchen and living room were empty when they entered the house. A catering company had set up a separate tent beside the marquee, so there was no need for Mrs Weasley to waste time cooking on the day of her son Bill's wedding.
Right, that was an important detail to keep in mind— apparently, Bill was getting married to Fleur, Oleandra's half-Veela rival from her Triwizard Tournament days. Oleandra thought that twenty was a bit young to be getting married, but these were dangerous times indeed. Better get hitched while you still could, seemed to be the prevailing wisdom among recent Hogwarts graduates.
"How many d'you reckon's enough?" said Harry, eyeing the crooked wooden chairs around the kitchen table. "Maybe fiiiivvvvvveeeeee, oooooooor—"
Slowly but surely, Harry's movements ground to a halt, as Oleandra's spell took hold, slowing the river of time around him to a trickle. Given the vast difference in their magical strength, it had taken her barely a minute of close proximity to affect him.
"Accio Invisibility Cloak," said Oleandra, brandishing the Elder Wand. "Accio Resurrection Stone."
Nothing happened. She had hoped one of the Hallows might be able to affect the others, but it seemed that wasn't the case— or at least, not while she still lacked the wand's allegiance. Grumbling under her breath, Oleandra ran up the stairs and began ransacking the rooms one by one, searching for anything resembling a silvery cloak or a large black stone.