start of something new

August 31st, 1994

"WHY ARE YOU being a creep?"

Fred raised an eyebrow at Daisy, who were standing still by the door with a big smile, watching the Weasley kids sprawled all over the living room while carrying a big carton box. It had been a while since everyone was present.

"This is a rare sight," she said, finally moving.

"What's in the box?"

"Gifts."

She pulled out jars and jars of freshly baked cookies, placing them on the dining table. Its heavenly smell immediately filled the Burrow and attracted everyone's attention. Even Mrs. Weasley appeared from the kitchen, flicking her wand so the empty dinner dishes began cleaning themselves. "Daisy, dear, is that you? Why didn't you come earlier for dinner? Should I fix you a plate?"

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley, such a kind offer. I've had dinner with my housemates, though," Daisy slapped Ron's hand before he could open some random jar off the table and announced, "I've labeled names on the jars, Ronald."

"Huh?" Ron lifted the one he had in his hand and read off the scotch-taped paper, "Please don't get eaten by dragons, Charlie."

Charlie whistled, "Awesome! Pistachios and cheese, thanks Dee!"

Hermione took one and read, "Please keep your detention rate— oh, it's for you, Fred."

"Please have normal school boy issues. Refrain from dying, Harry."

Harry chuckled awkwardly, reaching for his jar of brown sugar and chocolate chips cookies, "Well— I'm planning on it."

"Please come by and visit often, Bill."

"Please get a— What is this?" George halted in alarm, "Please get a hot, smart, and kind fling at school and tell me all about him—"

Ginny's eyes widened.

"—Hermione?"

"Wh— What?!" Hermione snatched the jar from George's hand, blushing profusely, "Daisy!"

Daisy just winked at her, laughing along with the crowd.

Ron said, "Hot, smart, kind fling? How can she, with her nose buried deep in books all day, all night?"

"Here, Ron," Bill handed him a jar, "Please don't talk rubbish to much."

The small gesture of adding personal messages turned into a fun game that reaped laughter Daisy definitely would miss, starting tomorrow. She shuddered, thinking how bleak it would be when everyone leave.

Right about then, Percy Apparated in from a long day at the Ministry. He huffed and puffed as he sunk into an empty seat, and Mrs. Weasley skillfully levitated a dinner plate to the table in front of him.

It's like his cologne was called 'repellent', because immediately, the kids dispersed back to their original bustles and activities.

Hermione was immersed in The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4. Charlie was darning a fireproof balaclava. Harry was polishing his Firebolt. Bill and Ron were engaged in a nasty game of wizarding chess. Fred and George were sitting in a far corner, quills out, talking in whispers, with their heads bent over a piece of parchment.

"Hello Percy," Daisy greeted in politeness.

"Hey. Thanks for the dinner, Mother."

"Of course, dear," Mrs. Weasley said, sitting next to him.

"I made some snacks for you," she pushed the remaining jar of plain vanilla cookie (read: Please remember that nobody's perfect and we love you, Percy) to him, "I'll be with Fred and George."

Of course, the two mischief makers were scribbling words and drawings under the title: Weasley Wizard Wheezes 1994-1995 Timeline.

They jerked on their seats when Daisy's shadow fell upon them.

"Geez! Make some noise when you walk, Dee!"

"Oh, my bad. I'm not supposed to at home." Daisy slid onto the sofa next to them and peered at their notes, "I should've written 'please don't kill someone's child during your research and development process' in your jars."

George shushed her as Fred whispered, "Don't worry, no one's gonna die."

"Remind me how much exactly did you get from Mr. Bagman?"

"Double our savings—"

"—plus five Galleons. All safely tucked in our trunk."

"We'll manage 'em once we reach school."

"It's been an absolute uproar," Percy moaned from the dining table. "I've been putting out fires all week. People keep sending Howlers, and of course, if you don't open a Howler straight away, it explodes. Scorch marks all over my desk!"

"The Ministry's working your father far too hard. His dinner's going to be ruined if he doesn't come home soon," Mrs. Weasley sighed.

"Well, Father should make up for his mistake at the match, shouldn't he?" said Percy, "Actually, he was a tad unwise to make a public statement without clearing it with his Head of Department first—"

"Don't you dare blame your father for what that wretched Skeeter woman wrote!" said Mrs. Weasley, flaring up at once.

"If Dad hadn't said anything, old Rita would just have said it was disgraceful that nobody from the Ministry had commented," Bill interjected, "Rita Skeeter never makes anyone look good. Remember, she interviewed all the Gringotts' Charm Breakers once, and called me a long-haired pillock?"

"Well, it is a bit long, dear," said Mrs. Weasley gently. "If you'd just let me —"

"No, Mum."

"And... what are you two up to?" said Mrs. Weasley sharply, her eyes suddenly shifted to the twins.

"Homework," said Fred vaguely.

"Don't be ridiculous, you're still on holiday."

"Yeah, we've left it a bit late," said George.

"You're not, by any chance, writing out a new order form, are you?" said Mrs. Weasley in suspicion. "You wouldn't be thinking of restarting Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes?"

Daisy suppressed a smile and tried to look away.

"Now, Mum," said Fred, looking up at her, a pained look on his face. "If the Hogwarts Express crashed tomorrow, and George and I died, how would you feel to know that the last thing we ever heard from you was an unfounded accusation?"

Everyone laughed, even Mrs. Weasley.

Mr. Weasley's hand on the infamous, magical clock suddenly spun from work to travelling then home, together with the others, and the heavy talk returned once more.

"Rita Skeeter's been ferreting around all week, looking for more Ministry mess-ups to report."

"Crouch is very lucky Rita hasn't found out about Winky."

"There'd be a week's worth of headlines in his house-elf being caught holding the wand that conjured the Dark Mark."

"I thought we all agreed that that elf, while irresponsible, did not conjure the Mark?" said Percy hotly.

"If you ask me, Mr. Crouch is very lucky no one at the Daily Prophet knows how mean he is to elves!" Hermione suddenly quipped from her seat, feeling angry herself.

"Now look here, Hermione!" said Percy. "A high-ranking Ministry official like Mr. Crouch deserves unswerving obedience from his servants—"

"His slave, you mean!" said Hermione, her voice rising passionately, "because he didn't pay Winky, did he?"

"I think you'd all better go upstairs and check that you've packed properly!" said Mrs. Weasley in a higher pitch, breaking up the argument. "Come on now, all of you..."

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August 31st, 1994

PERCY'S ABSOLUTE DEVOTION for his boss colliding with Hermione's new passion to give house elves better treatment destroyed Daisy's plan to bid everyone a melancholic goodbye, since Bill was returning to Egypt, Charlie to Romania, and everyone else to Hogwarts the next morning. Except for Percy.

So she just gave them quick hugs and excused herself from the Burrow.

As she walked towards the forest, she closed her eyes and imagined... imagined how it would feel to be magical.

"Daisy Allen of Gryffindor—" she whispered, jumping onto a thick root sticking out of the ground.

"—Well... If I were a Hogwarts student, I think I'd—" she hopped over the next one, then up on the following again, and twirled.

"—choose Astronomy, of course. Care of Magical Creatures and Charms—" over some rock then twice only on her right foot. She tripped over something and nearly fell, laughing.

"—D.A.D.A. and Potions. Definitely Potions—" then she pretended like she had a wand in her hand, flicking it around, "Transfiguration... I'd turn Fred into a frog prince. Maybe that's the real story behind the fairytale."

She stretched her arms and danced along the path, "I'd definitely exercise if I have a chance to play real Quidditch—"

Hopping onto both feet as she landed at the edge of the vegetative path, she smiled, "I'd get all my O.W.L.s and make Mrs. Weasley very, very proud. I think. Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts—"

She hummed Hogwarts' school anthem in a low tone for the rest of the journey.

Unbeknownst to Daisy, Fred had been following her ten steps behind. He waited for her to safely enter her house with one last twirl, lock the door, disappear behind some furniture, until the light in her room was turned on, before heading back home with a pledge to play makeshift Quidditch with her next Summer.

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September 2nd, 1994

"OH NO... OH no... Fred, Fred, look at this!"

Fred looked up from his D.A.D.A. notes and crawled over to George, who was holding up a bag. He peeked inside the bag and frowned, "What nonsense are you talking about? There's nothing in it."

"Exactly!" George exclaimed, "Don't you remember what this bag was carrying?"

Fred paused for a second. The truth hit him like a bowling ball colliding against his chest then sinking down into the pit of his stomach. He scrambled up immediately, "Our money? From Bagman?"

"Did someone steal it?"

"No, it was definitely untouched! I tied the knot myself!"

"There's literally nothing in there?!"

George flipped the bag and shook it up and down. Not even a dust fell out of it.

Fred's eyes widened. He snapped his fingers, "The leprechauns! There were leprechauns' golds everywhere!"

George snapped his fingers, too, "Right, and they disappeared after a couple hours! We should write to Bagman. Maybe he got them mixed up."

"Yeah..." Fred frowned, feeling suspicious, "Maybe."

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September 10th, 1994

"SO... SOMETHING FUNNY happened today," Ginny whispered to the Golden Trio, "You wouldn't guess it."

"Is that a challenge?" Ron said, looking up at his youngest sister. Harry, Hermione, and him were talking about their memorable D.A.D.A. lesson and Transfiguration homework.

"Cedric Diggory talked to me."

Harry blinked, "O... okay? Good for you?"

Ginny turned red. She didn't mean to make her years-long crush thought that she was attracted to someone else. "N— No! He asked me our cousin's address! He'd like to send her a letter."

Hermione had to mouth Daisy's name inaudibly for the boys to get who they were talking about. "Well, what did you say to him?"

"I told him she's back with her travelling father, so there's no knowing where she actually is unless she sends us letters herself," Ginny shrugged, "I'm sorry. I didn't have any other idea."

"No, that's a good one, Gin."

"He looked quite disappointed, though," Ginny giggled, "Both of them together would look so cute, don't you think? They'll probably be the kindest couple on Earth."

Ron said, "I thought you're betting on her with Fred."

"They need a trigger, they do. Like Cedric's intrusion, maybe, to spark some jealousy," Ginny said. "Have any of you seen him and George, anyway?"

Harry shook his head, "No. They seem busy, though. I saw them heading towards the Owleries twice this week."

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September 29th, 1994

DOMINIC LOOKED EXTREMELY tanned after his family's impromptu holiday to Barbados. He proudly retold the tale of how his mother feigned sickness as she called his school, asking permission for Dominic to stay 'home' for a week. Or two.

Marisol protested grouchily, wishing her parents would do the same thing for her.

Daisy couldn't believe that she was too dense to know of Atlas and Marisol's affair before. She meant, how could she not notice those signs? The way Atlas called her 'Mari' in an endearing way and, no matter how sour she was acting, Marisol couldn't say no to whatever he said. They were actually very sweet.

"You just visited Vincent's place in New York, didn't you?"

"Yeah. But it's Vincent's," Marisol muttered, "It's, like, my second home."

"At least you were out of the country," Atlas countered.

"What about you, Jane?" Marisol suddenly asked, surprising her. She never initiated a conversation before. At least, not willingly. "I overheard my housemaids the other day. You were gone for five days, weren't you?"

"M— me?"

"Yeah, where did you go?"

"Oh," Daisy cleared her throat, recomposing herself, "Uh, London. I visited my penpal there."

"Really? Oh, did you go to Oxford Street?" Marisol sprung up on her chair, "It was the best shopping spot in all of London."

I bet that saleswizard's cart beat any shop in London, any day.

"Well, we didn't shop," Daisy said with a polite smile.

"Wait, I have a question. Have your Dad ever take you out of this neighborhood?" Dominic asked out of curiosity. "I mean, it feels like you're always around."

"He did, before my Mother died," Daisy answered truthfully, "After that... Not really, no. He needs me to oversee our house."

"Goodness gracious, you must be so bored of life!"

"Mari!" Atlas scolded. Marisol only shrugged and mouthed 'What?' back at him.

Dominic continued, "I gotta say, I agree with Marisol on this one. There's so much more in life than Devon. Oh— Atlas, show her the photographs you captured in Japan!"

"Sure, why don't we go inside?" Atlas stood up, pointing towards his house.

"I'm gonna take my album from Barbados, too." Dominic jumped onto his feet, grinning, "Dad got us Nikon's camera with optical stabilized lens just for this trip. I'll join you in the sunroom!"

Daisy followed Marisol's graceful footsteps into the house, thinking 'There's only one place I've been wanting to visit —Hogwarts'.

But there's no harm in seeing how Japan and Barbados looked like.

✿ ❀ ✿ ❀ ✿

And of course, as we all know, things at school immediately became very, very interesting.

As for the twins' attempt to hit the jackpot, now that they're totally broke...

✿ ❀ ✿ ❀ ✿

November 1st, 1994

Dearest DJA,

I—

There's some bad news, or good depending on your point of view—

We have a new teacher, called Mad-Eye Moody. He's not that nice, but he's experienced—

You remember the money we got from Bagman, the Quidditch bet? No? Yes? Well they're gone and we've gone utterly bankrupt—

The Triwizard Tournament's beginning and guess who's the champion for Hogwarts?

Well, there are two. Cedric Diggory —of course you remember, and none other than our golden boy HARRY POTTER! Ron's having a fit, of course. Jealousy, jealousy. Lots of people think Harry's put in his name himself... Including ourselves, actually, but he denies all charges.

It's such a shame we weren't born a few months earlier! I mean, a thousand galleons!

What am I even writing?

"Oh," George paused when he saw Fred looking extremely troubled over a piece of parchment in his room, all alone, "Are you writing home? Tell Mum about Harry?"

Fred balled up the disastrous letter and threw it into the bin. He groaned, "I wanted to tell Dee about our lost money, but I'm afraid Mum would read it, too. And then about Professor Moody, but his lessons are too... barbaric to tell. The Imperius, Killing Curse, and all. And then about Harry—"

"Right," George mumbled, agreeing, "It's a surprise, isn't it? Did he get help from Hermione? I don't think he's smart enough to trick the age line by himself."

"See? We're still figuring out 'bout what happened ourselves. And..."

Fred paused. He contemplated for a bit, then decided he shouldn't keep any secret from his own twin. "Look, George. I think... We shouldn't, you know... I think... about Daisy, I mean..."

George asked in pure concern, "What is it? What about her?"

"I think she's a bit... sad, you know, being a Muggle in the middle of... us."

George's lips formed an 'ah', getting his point immediately. "Actually Fred, truth is, she told me she was jealous of our fun experience at school."

"She told you?" Fred frowned (feeling a little hurt that he wasn't told first), "When?"

"When we got separated in the woods, during the riot."

"I think we should... tone down our letters, you know? Not brag about our 'fun experience' so much. It's like rubbing salt to her wound."

"Agree," George nodded, "But she'd be so sad if we rarely send her mail, don't you think?"

"Well, then..."

Dearest DJA,

Hope you're doing well at home. Nothing fun's happening at school, at least not to us. There are no Quidditch matches this year and we can't join the Triwizard Tournament since we aren't of age. We're just gonna be some faceless spectators in the crowd.

How about you?