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...
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HARRY YAWNED AS he took a seat next to Ron at the breakfast table. He looked around, feeling something was off, and asked, "Where's Daisy?"
"Her school starts today," Ron answered, taking an extra chicken leg from the centre of the table. He tore a small bit out and threw it into Scabbers' cage. His pet rat. "She'll drop by later. Usually at four."
"Oh, okay."
"Why? Missed her already, Harry?" Fred asked teasingly.
"N— No," Harry replied, "I just... Often forget that she doesn't live here."
George shrugged and commented with his mouth full, "Mo' as where be."
"George, swallow your food first!" Mrs. Weasley scolded. She gave Harry a plate filled with two loaves of bread and a beautifully poached egg, "Help yourself, dear."
Harry smiled gratefully, "Thank you, Mrs. Weasley."
George gulped down his food and repeated in a clearer voice, "I said, might as well be."
✿ ❀ ✿ ❀ ✿
August 29th, 1992
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THE BOYS DECIDED to use their last Saturday at home for another Quidditch practice.
There was a small paddock the Weasleys owned up hill, surrounded by trees that blocked it from view of the village below, which meant they could ride their brooms there as long as they didn't fly too high.
Of course they couldn't use real Quidditch balls, which would have been hard to explain if they had escaped and flown away over the village, so they threw apples for one another to catch. Harry's arrival this Summer added some spice to the Weasleys' usual game —his brand new Nimbus Two Thousand, that was— and the game stretched on for hours.
