Daisy's father said, and she herself agreed, that the Weasleys were one peculiar bunch.
They weren't as affluent, sociable, and affable as her other neighbours. They never came to the local kids' birthdays, they never invited the local kids to their...
"MUST BE NEARLY time," said Mr. Weasley quickly, pulling out his watch again, "Yes, it's a minute off... We'd better get ready... You just need to touch the Portkey, that's all, a finger will do—"
Daisy let out a tiny squeal of excitement (which was something she would never do if she could help it, but this was too exciting), beaming at Fred and George, then proceeded to do as Mr. Weasley instructed.
With much difficulty, owing to their bulky backpacks, the ten of them crowded around the old boot held out by Mr. Diggory.
"Ouch—"
"Sorry."
Daisy almost fell, unable to keep her balance.
"Here, scoot over," Fred stepped back to give her more space in front of him.
"Thank you," she breathed out. Again, not a fan of tight spaces.
It suddenly occurred to her how odd this would look if they were seen by a Muggle. Ten people, two of them grown men, clutching this manky old boot in the semidarkness, waiting...
"Three..." muttered Mr. Weasley, "Two... One."
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Daisy felt as though a hook just behind her navel was jerked irresistibly forward. Floo Network made her feel like she was going through a free fall, down an invisible tube of green flames, until she landed on a hard surface once more. Portkey made her feel like flying, up, up, and away. She could still feel Fred behind her and Cedric on her left and the boot still stuck to her finger like glue —or her finger to the boot, whatever, and then her feet finally slammed into the ground.
Cedric caught her arm before her knees could buckle.
Ron staggered into Harry and they fell over. The Portkey hit the ground near their head with a heavy thud. Mr. Weasley, Mr. Diggory, Cedric, and her were the only ones still standing, though looking very windswept. Everybody else was on the ground.
