Beauxbatons [Charlie Weasley]

Weasleys

"Her letter says she'll be here any minute now!" Charlie calls out to his family. "I'm going to head up the hill to meet her."

"We'll come with you!" Fred says enthusiastically.

"No, you won't," Charlie snaps.

"Oh yes we will," George says firmly, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Come on, Freddie."

And before Charlie can stop them, they've marched ahead of him, through the garden and up the hill to where Isabelle can apparate to. Groaning in annoyance, the red-headed boy follows his twin brothers, standing with them at the top of the patchy-grassed hill.

Isabelle sighs, looking around her old bedroom, still in the style of her childhood self, before anything happened with her parents. She still has pictures of Clara up on the walls, and walks over to an old moving photograph on her bedside table.

Smiling down at it, she sees two girls in a blur of brown and gold, running around after each other and laughing their hearts out. Such carefree times back then. Happiness she's barely known since.

She pockets the photo and heads back over to her trunk in the centre of the room, picking it up. She takes one last look around the place before she disapparates.

Isabelle appears with a crack in front of Charlie and his two brothers, the former positively beaming at the sight of her. She returns it, having missed her boyfriend beyond measure.

But before she can run to embrace him, she's engulfed by a pair of identical red-heads, squeezing her around her middle. Charlie groans.

"Sorry, Isabelle. I wasn't planning on having them come to meet you, but they insisted and well..." He gestures hopelessly at the twins now chatting Isabelle's ear off.

The French girl just chuckles as the twins grab her luggage, pushing it into Charlie's arms, before they grab a hand of hers each, and pull her down towards the Burrow, chatting away.

"Your boyfriend's been such a pain these holidays," Fred says, shaking his head exasperatedly at the annoyed man behind him.

Isabelle raises her eyebrows, smirking at Charlie's expression that's slowly working its way up to furious as he watches his brothers lead his girlfriend away from him. He didn't even get to say a proper hello.

"Too right, Freddie," George nods in agreement. "He spends half his time holed up in his room writing letters to 'important people'—"

"—and the other half glaring at us whenever we mention you!" Fred finishes for him.

"Which is all the time," Charlie huffs.

"Oh, don't exaggerate, brother," Fred grins.

"Yeah, he's a foul old git alright," George adds, turning to look up at Isabelle once more, grinning as they near their house.

"Always so lazy—"

"Never any fun—"

"Always moping about the place—"

"Never caring enough to see how his own siblings are doing—"

"And always rambling nonstop about some dragon!" Fred exclaims.

"We think it's his imaginary friend," George whispers in her ear, loud enough for Charlie to hear, and causing him to scowl at his brothers.

"Honestly, Issy-Belle, we don't know what you see in him," the two of them say at the same time, grinning from ear to ear.

Isabelle can't help but laugh. This only seems to make the twins' grins widen, feeling accomplished.

The French girl looks up at the Burrow as they enter the yard. It looks as though it was once an old pigsty, but extra rooms have been added here and there until it's several storeys high and so crooked it looks as though it's held up by magic — which it probably is. Four or five chimneys are perched on top of the red roof. A lop-sided sign stuck in the ground near the entrance reads 'The Burrow'. Round the front door lies a jumble of wellington boots and a very rusty cauldron. Several fat brown chickens are pecking their way across the yard.