June 16th, 1984

HOW DID THE good acquaintance happen?

Well, it happened one afternoon, when Daisy accidentally nudged her father's elbow and spilled coffee all over his new suit.

"WHY YOU BRAT—"

See, Mr. Barry Allen, despite being fully upfront about his belief that manner and attitude must be one's highest virtues, often lost his cool to the explosion of his temper. Whenever he did, his voice would reach an inhumane volume, his limbs would swing oh-so-powerfully, and little Daisy would end up sprouting (at least) a bruise or blood somewhere.

"YOU MADE ME— THIS WAS BRAND NEW! THE TAILOR JUST LEFT THE HOUSE A FEW HOURS AGO!"

Daisy nursed her purplish cheek and felt droplets of treacherous tears rolling through her petite fingers. She choked out, "I— I'm sorry, Father. I'm really sorry."

"SORRY'S NOT GONNA CUT IT. WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO WITH THIS— THIS RAG, HUH?!"

"Sir, if I may," Ms. Sofia Sloan, Daisy's governess, timidly interjected, "Why don't we take a breath and calm down? It is her birthday after all—"

"DAMN RIGHT IT'S HER BIRTHDAY. I MADE THIS SUIT SPECIFICALLY FOR HER BIRTHDAY!"

Daisy wiped her snot with the back of her hand and looked up tearfully at Ms. Sloan, who could only return the look apologetically. Then to the picture of her late mother, who only showed a static smile in her golden frame.

Mother couldn't help her anymore.

"JUST— GET OUT OF HERE! GET OUT, NOW!"

And she ran.

Daisy ran out of the sunroom, through the garden, passed the tall gate, through a horde of bushes, trees, and corn plants, until she was out of sight and out of breath.

Her polished Mary Jane shoes mindlessly stomped on every puddle she met. Her heart screamed for her to get as far away as she could. Her eyes watered uncontrollably, blurring her sight, until she found herself tripping over some root.

Wow, just her luck.

Daisy crouched back, eyeing her muddy palms and knees in distaste, and cried.

And cried.

And cried.

And cried.

And cried—

"Hello."

Daisy lifted her head, hiccuping, and saw a young boy cutting his way through the trees slowly towards her.

Tall, red haired, freckled, crooked smile, dressed in lousy T-shirt, dirt-coloured jacket, and worn out pants.

The boy continued, "Why are you crying in my family's lawn?"

"I'm sorry," Daisy said softly, though she didn't have any intention nor the strength to stand up and leave.

"Eh, it's fine. I'm Fred Weasley."

"Oh," Daisy gaped, "Oh."

Parents of the surrounding families had misused the Weasleys' lack of participation in neighbourhood events to invent a series of horror stories to keep their own children from wandering off at night or to uncharted territories. Including the Allens.

Daisy grew up with imaginative (though she was too young to distinguish her parents' lies from truths), awful stories about the surname 'Weasley'.

"Why?"

"I'm sorry. I really shouldn't be here."

Daisy immediately got onto her feet and swiftly turned around to leave, but the boy hurriedly called out, "Why are you leaving so soon?"

"N— Nothing. I have to go."

Fred's eyes suddenly caught the colourful contusion on Daisy's left cheek and he gasped dramatically, "Wait. What happened to your cheek? Did you fall?"

"My father—" Daisy instinctively rubbed the sore spot, "My father hit me."

"Why would your father hit you?" Fred asked so innocently and offendedly, as if the idea of a father disciplining his children was repulsive.

"Why?" Daisy replied in an equally naive tone, "Doesn't your father hit you?"

"No! My father loves me."

"My father loves me, too," Daisy said, "He says he hits me because he loves me."

"But why would he hit someone he loves?"

"I— I don't know..."

"I mean, my Mum hits us sometimes, but it's never that bad. She forces us to do housework instead!"

"Housework?"

"Yeah, like feeding the pigs, sweeping the floor, washing dishes..."

Daisy did grow up with imaginative, awful stories about the surname 'Weasley', but little Fred's childish and genuine vibe made her let down her guard, slowly and unconsciously.

"Can I ask? Do you... and your family really kidnap stray kids for dinner?"

"...what? No—"

"And do you really sleep in a coffin with your pet frogs, bats, and spiders?"

"...huh? Where di—"

"Are you going to eat me?"

Fred's brown eyes widened in pure confusion, "What are you talking about? We eat meat and vegetables like normal people! And we sleep on a normal bed; though I do have a pet frog and a spider—"

"Gosh! Why would you keep a spider as a pet?!"

"My twin brother and I are looking for the perfect moment to prank our little brother, Ron," Fred shrugged, "Why do you think of my family that way, huh?"

"I don't know," Daisy pursed her lips and frowned, "That's what my parents told me."

Fred laughed, "Well, that's creative!"

"So... it's not true?"

"Of course not!"

"Okay, then," Daisy beamed, "My name is Jane, Daisy Jane Allen."

"Jane... Huh," Fred hummed thoughtfully with furrowed eyebrows, "Can I call you Daisy?"

"Why?"

"Because it's a pretty name. Jane is boring."

"Uh, yes, sure!"

The two children ended up sitting side by side with their hands circled around their knees.

Words and stories flowed easily between the two for what seemed like hours.

Fred learned that Daisy was homeschooled by a private tutor named Ms. Sloan and that Mr. Allen was a pretty loaded merchant who travelled a lot throughout the year. Their houses were ten-minutes-walk apart, separated only by wild plantations and open space.

Daisy learned that Fred was taught to read, write, and basic mathematics by Mrs. Weasley and he will join a boarding school in five years.

As Fred tried his best to explain his gigantic family tree, the memory of her father's fury and her mother's absence flashed through Daisy's mind. She looked down, feeling blue all over again. But she wasn't about to cry.

"Daisy, are you crying?"

Okay. Now she couldn't help it.

"Don't cry! Don't cry, uh— Look!"

Fred hurriedly placed his palm on the barren ground and summoned every ounce of magic he had within him, feeling its power flowing and coursing through his veins.

Greens began to sprout out of nothing, moving around, weaving, and intertwining with each other gracefully. Beautiful white daisies bloomed one by one, here and there, forming the most brilliant flower crown little Daisy had ever seen.

"Whoa!" Daisy's blue eyes widened at the view, "Wow! What is that?!"

He was way better than the magician Mr. Allen hired for Daisy's birthday party this morning!

Fred plucked the crown off and proudly held it up, grinning ear to ear, "They're daisies!"

The girl squealed and clapped in awe, "How did you do that? Are you a magician?"

"No," Fred placed the flower crown on the top of Daisy's head. It nestled in perfectly over the delicate and ornate braids of her curly blonde hair, "Can you keep a secret?"

"Of course! Yes!"

"Mum says I'm not supposed to tell anyone," Fred lowered his tone and leaned forward, closing the distance between his lips and her ear. He chuckled, "But actually, I'm a wizard."

"Ooh... A wizard," Daisy parroted, "Can you do it again? Do it again!"

✿ ❀ ✿ ❀ ✿

AND THAT WAS the backstory of how Fred received the scolding of his life when Molly and Arthur found out that he had revealed the door to the magical Wizarding World to the Muggle girl next door.

He had to do the entire household's chores for a month straight afterwards.

✿ ❀ ✿ ❀ ✿

August 4th, 1992

"HEY, RON. HOW come you never mentioned Daisy before, at Hogwarts?" Harry casually but curiously asked as he flipped his pillow and tidied his designated bed.

"There's just nothing to talk about, I guess," the room's owner snickered, "Why? Are you curious?"

"Yeah!" Harry admitted in a heartbeat, "Wouldn't you?"

"Good point," Ron answered amid laughter, "She was there, too, at the platform, when we first met. Do you remember?"

"...No."

"Well, Fred made everyone promised to not say anything about Daisy at school. There's a law about that —Muggles knowing about us. I dunno. Dad, Bill, and Charlie said it's fine. You know, Half-Bloods and Muggle-borns are pretty common. But Mum and Fred are still pretty cautious."

"If Mrs. Weasley and Fred are cautious, why did your family accept her in the first place?"

"What Fred shared at breakfast —about her father being evil and abusive, it's really true," Ron shrugged, "And you know my parents. Dad's a Muggle fanatic. Mum loves daughters to bits. They couldn't possibly turn away and left Dee on her own, moreover Obliviated her."

"So you were... four? When she first came by?"

"Yep. She's been like a sister to me my whole life. You know, my brother Bill made all of us bet if she's going to literally end up as a member of the family."

Harry sat up from his bed and threw a confused look at Ron's teasing tone, "What?"

"You know..." Ron singsang, "Literally be my sister. Or should I say, lawfully."

"Huh—"

"With Fred! We're betting if she'll end up with Fred! Merlin, Harry, sometimes you're just so slow."