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...
A/N: Last chapter of this part! I think Half-Blood Prince and Deathly Hallows won't be this long, but I don't know yet —haven't got the chance and time to write further than chapter 5.2. Hope you're as excited as I am!
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when war starts to feel like war pt. 3
June 18th, 1996
NOBODY SPOKE.
HARRY did not want to look at any of them. He felt sick.
He didn't understand why Sirius was not here. He had to be here. Had to.
"Harry?" Ron called, unsure, "Have you seen this?"
"What?" Harry ran back to where they were all standing, a little way down row ninety-seven. Ron was staring at one of the dusty glass spheres on the shelves. "It's— It's got your name on it."
"My name?" said Harry blankly.
Not as tall as Ron, he had to crane his neck to read the yellowish label affixed to the shelf right beneath the dusty glass ball. In spidery writing was written a date of some sixteen years previously, and below that:
S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D. Dark Lord and (?) Harry Potter
Feeling slightly reckless, Harry closed his fingers around the dusty ball's surface. He expected it to be cold, like the rest of the room, but the glow of light within seemed to be keeping it warm.
"Harry, no!" Hermione exclaimed.
"It's got my name on it, right?" Harry argued, eyes still glued to object, "I can take it if it's mine."
Expecting, even hoping, that something dramatic was going to happen, something exciting that might make their long and dangerous journey worthwhile after all, Harry lifted the glass ball down from its shelf and stared at it.
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Nothing whatsoever happened.
The others moved in closer to take a look at the curious orb. And then, from right behind them, a drawling voice said, "Very good, Potter. Now turn around, nice and slowly, and give that to me."
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June 18th, 1996
FEELING RESTLESS, DAISY spent her time waiting to make more Protego-watches. She didn't even know if it would come in handy or obstruct and interfere with their duels instead, but that was the only thing she could do for the Order at the moment.
Occasionally, she reheated the tea and stared blanky at the brownish liquid until it bubbled over the stove, wondering why Ginny couldn't write back, then she returned to the project at hand.
