home

January 12th, 1996

AT FIRST, SIRIUS couldn't see the difference between Daisy and other teenagers that the Weasleys had told him before.

Now he could.

Or maybe he could because he used to be surrounded by barbaric children such as himself and his Marauder friends, in a dormitory full of daring to the point of foolish boys. Daisy contrasted herself deeply with any childish trait he had known and experienced back when he was seventeen.

She woke up very early in the morning to pour herself a cup of her self-made spice tea and opened up the windows, letting the cold breeze to refresh the vicinity.

The first three days, she cleaned every room in the house while she waited for Sirius to wake up (nearly noon) and managed to collect a box full of trinkets their guests had left behind.

(Including Mundungus' note of his next black market trade, which Sirius had kept in case he needed to blackmail him someday)

Now out of room to clean, she resorted to dusting the books in the library. She asked for his permission to read some and he told her to burn them all if she wanted to.

A statement she merely replied with a disapproving look.

She also asked if she could move some furniture and ended up having her own private little study. A wing chair from the second floor's drawing room —God knows how the limping girl had it carried downstairs by herself— and a tall drink table she had found abandoned in the dining room's closet were placed by the window.

Sirius would found her sitting there reading, with her legs gracefully posed in a Duchess slant and the sun casting natural light onto her nearly healed skin. A cup of tea was placed beside a crystal jar filled with wildflower bouquet on the table. She had picked them up right by 12 Grimmauld Place's doorway, so she didn't actually venture off the house.

And he would offer to keep her tea consistently warm with his magic.

No loud shrieks. No mess. No tardiness. No laziness. No need for him to shake her awake and get her to move around.

In fact, she acted more like the adult around here.

The Weasleys were right —she was endearingly eccentric.

Yeah, those were the words.

There was one special thing he noticed about her that he appreciated very, very much, though.

Whenever he show up to greet her first thing in the morning, she would stop whatever she was doing and ask him what he would like to do for the day. His opinion never mattered much around here, be it for his family or for the Order. Until now.

"Flower!" Sirius hollered, tossing the half-burnt pancake around the pan, "Breakfast!"

✿ ❀ ✿ ❀ ✿

January 13th, 1996

HARRY'S HEAD WAS throbbing after his first Occlumency lesson with Professor Snape (this was the thing he talked with him about before his departure from Grimmauld Place).

He expected to walk into a quiet common room, but it was packed and full of shrieks of laughter and excitement.

Why, well, Fred and George were demonstrating their latest bit of joke shop merchandise. Inspired by Daisy's terrible attempt to hide her injured face with a hat.

"Headless Hats!" shouted George, as Fred waved a pointed hat decorated with a fluffy pink feather at the watching students. "Two Galleons each!"

Fred swept the hat onto his head, beaming. For a second he merely looked rather stupid, then both hat and head vanished.

Several girls screamed, but everyone else was roaring with laughter.

"And off again!" shouted George, and Fred's hand groped for a moment in what seemed to be thin air over his shoulder. Then his head reappeared as he swept the pink-feathered hat from it again.

"How do those hats work, then?" said Hermione, distracted. "I mean, obviously it's some kind of Invisibility Spell, but it's rather clever to have extended the field of invisibility beyond the boundaries of the charmed object... I'd imagine the charm wouldn't have a very long life though..."

Harry did not answer. He was still feeling ill.

He walked across the common room, dodging George, who tried to put a Headless Hat on him, and reached the peace and cool of the stone staircase to the boys' dormitories.

He opened the door of his dormitory and was one step inside it when he experienced pain so severe he thought that someone must have sliced into the top of his head. He did not know where he was, whether he was standing or lying down. He did not even know his own name...

Maniacal laughter was ringing in his ears... He was happier than he had been in a very long time... Jubilant, ecstatic, triumphant...

"Harry? HARRY!"

Someone had hit him around the face. Harry laid panting on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. The scar on his forehead throbbed horribly.

Ron was bending over him, looking very worried.

"What happened?" he said.

"I... dunno..." Harry gasped, sitting up again. "He's really happy... really happy..."

"You-Know-Who is?"

"Something good's happened," mumbled Harry. "Something he's been hoping for."

The thing was, something good for Voldemort meant something bad for the Order. And he shuddered to even thing what disastrous event had happened for him to laugh that carefreely.

✿ ❀ ✿ ❀ ✿

✿ ❀ ✿ ❀ ✿

January 14th, 1996

"GOOD MORNING, DAISY dear!" Mrs. Weasley planted a sloppy kiss on each of her plump cheeks but wasted no time to get into business, "Now where's Sirius?"

"Good morning, Mrs. Weasley!" Daisy beamed brightly at her, "He's asleep. He's usually— not up yet— at this hour."

Mrs. Weasley squinted her eyes in disdain as she placed her coat onto the hanger then hurriedly ran up the stairs, refraining herself from screaming so she wouldn't have to deal with Mrs. Black so early in the morning.

She returned minutes later with a sleepy Sirius in tow.

"I'm sorry, dear, but this is rather pushing—" she flicked her wand and a mug of hot coffee began making itself. "—Sirius, wake up—" the coffee zoomed towards her once it was done being stirred then she pushed it towards the yawning old man. "—Now, I don't think you should go to your house today, Daisy."

"Why?" Daisy asked, startled, "Is there— a problem?"

"Honestly... yes. A terrible problem."

Mrs. Weasley pulled out a rolled copy of that day's Daily Prophet and laid it on the table. The whole front page was filled with ten black-and-white photographs, each captioned with a name and the crime for which the person had been sent to Azkaban.

That woke Sirius up for sure.

MASS BREAKOUT FROM AZKABAN:
MINISTRY FEARS BLACK IS "RALLYING POINT" FOR OLD DEATH EATERS

Sirius slammed his mug onto the table in fury, "Are they kidding me?! Me? Rallying point? What nonsense is Fudge gonna spray next —that I'm You-Know-Who's gay boyfriend?"

"Sirius!"

"That is—" Daisy faltered, coughing, "Would you please— stop saying inappropriate— scenarios that may— trigger the imagination? Please?"

"Sorry. Just— that's just such garbage!"

"What other options does he have?" said Mrs. Weasley bitterly. "He's spent a good six months telling everyone Harry and Dumbledore are liars, hasn't he? And Broderick Bode —an Unspeakable for the Ministry, was found dead by Devil's Snare in St. Mungo's."

Daisy knew what an Unspeakable was, but she made a mental note to reread about that job once more tonight.

"Arthur and the others haven't been home, trying to sort out the mess," Mrs. Weasley continued, "I'm the only spare, and I don't think I am sufficient enough to protect you in Devon, dear. Ten Death Eaters..."

"I'm just— going home," Daisy argued softly, "There is no— need for protection."

"Where's Remus?" Sirius asked.

"Out on a stake. How about we hold the visit off by a few days, hm?"

Daisy was already dressed in the best dress she had borrowed from Mrs. Weasley and braided her hair with much difficulty. Though she dreaded facing her Father, she missed her friends terribly and she knew there were pressing matters she had to sort out as quickly as possible.

But she kept her mouth shut, knowing that she shouldn't be selfish. Her life and the others' lives were at stake.

She could be a little bit more patient, right?

To her surprise, Sirius stepped forward to argue in her stead, "Molly, she's been looking forward to meet her friends. It's her Mother's death day! And she needs her own stuff, not just the stuff you lent her."

"But—"

"How about this: I will Apparate right to the Burrow, turn into Snuffles, and be your canine backup. You do what Tonks had planned to do in her stead. Daisy finishes her packing, lunch, and goodbyes before it gets dark. She leaves with you. I see you leave, I leave, too. Done."

Mrs. Weasley and Sirius passed arguments like a volleyball between them. Nearly an hour later, the former, after seeing Daisy's emotive silence, finally relented.

"Alright, alright, fine."

"R— really?" Daisy said, unable to stop herself from beaming.

"But first sign of trouble, I'm taking you out."

"Yes, ma'am," the two chorused.

Sirius patted Mrs. Weasley's hand on the table, "And I'm sorry. Dolohov..."

Daisy glanced down at the article.

Antonin Dolohov, read the legend beneath a wizard with a long, pale, twisted face who was sneering up at her, convicted of the brutal murders of Gideon and Fabian Prewett. Realization flickered into her eyes and she gasped, "Oh no... Mrs. Weasley..."

"Thank you," Mrs. Weasley nodded as she patted Sirius' hand back, and then pulled Daisy into a motherly side hug, "And I'm sorry, too, dear. You must miss your mother."

✿ ❀ ✿ ❀ ✿

January 14th, 1996

"GODRIC— SHOULD WE— should we write home?" Fred turned to look worriedly at George.

The latter returned the look, "Are you thinking..."

"They wouldn't..."

"They couldn't, since they literally just broke out last night."

"But she'd be an easy prey, if she go back to her house!"

"By the time our letter reach home, she'd have gone, Fred. It'll be too late anyway."

"I know, I know. It's just... frustrating."

"What are you two fretting about?" Angelina announced her and Alicia's arrival at the breakfast table.

"And there's the murderer of our uncles!" George exclaimed loudly and randomly for them to hear, pointing his finger at the picture of Antonin Dolohov.

"You've read about that?" Alicia claimed the empty seat next to George and gave his shoulder a squeeze emphatically, "I'm sorry."

George grasped her hand within his and looked at her gratefully.

Fred looked at them, calculating. What just... What just happened?

✿ ❀ ✿ ❀ ✿

January 14th, 1996

TONKS' PLAN WAS to Apparate Daisy to the nearest bus station, take a Muggle transport to solidify the backstory of her staying with a fellow Muggle somewhere, and lay low under a bush somewhere to observe her safety until she leave.

Mrs. Weasley didn't want to hide behind some plantation. Instead, she was the one who knocked on the door to the Residence. Daisy's petite figure remained hidden behind her back.

The gigantic marble door were pushed open inward to reveal none other than Vincent DeVere, beaming gleefully with his real sweet grin, dressed in a casual yet elegant polo shirt tucked into a pair of formal trousers. His eyes brightened at the thought of finally meeting Daisy, but when he saw the unfamiliar old lady, he recomposed himself.

Until, of course, Mrs. Weasley smiled her warmest smile, thawing the coldness once more. "Good morning, young man! You must be Daisy's friend!"

"Er... Yes, that I am," Vincent bowed like a gentleman initiating a dance, smiling back, "My name's Vincent. And you must be her kind savior! Mrs... Weasley?"

"That's exaggerating! Thank you. Ah, hello, children. Barry."

The way she addressed Mr. Allen was similar to Mundungus, or Minister Fudge. She couldn't hide the bitterness laced within her every word.

Daisy glanced over Mrs. Weasley and Vincent's shoulders and saw a big crowd waiting on her arrival. Atlas and Dominic were standing glued to Marisol's sides, all with apprehensive looks on their pampered faces. Her house's servants were stealing looks and trying to take a peek from all along the corridor. She could see Lucy trying to step forward and get a better look but she was halted by her mother. And in the middle of them all was her Father, sharply dressed in his favorite suit.

He looked like he had lost a significant amount of weight. He looked... tired and weary, apologetic.

"M— Molly Weasley," Mr. Allen greeted back. He walked forward until he was a few steps behind Vincent.

Mrs. Weasley's tone turned so cold, everyone could feel the chill down to their smallest bones. "I hope you didn't waste the last two weeks planning another devious scheme to keep your daughter here against her will, or to destroy her future by forcing your selfish opinion on the poor girl."

Daisy looked down, abashed by the confrontation, but also grateful. She suddenly thought of her own Mother and how she would do the same thing as Mrs. Weasley if she were alive and present.

"No, of course not." Mr. Allen swallowed, "Jane?"

"I won't bother your farewell party—" Mrs. Weasley said. With a tug of her hand, Daisy was finally revealed to the limelight, and there was an uncomfortable shift within the crowd.

Daisy cowered under their judgements.

Of course they would be uncomfortable.

She was still limping, though she had left Moody's walking stick at Grimmauld Place, and the baseball cap did a terrible job in obscuring her still swollen eye and cheek, as well as the plethora of bruises littering her face.

Some gasped audibly, some murmured among themselves, some were rendered speechless by the view.

Mrs. Weasley ran her palm up and down her spine in an attempt to calm her down. "Alright, dear?"

"Yes," Daisy sighed. "Thank you."

"Good girl. Now, I will go back to my house and pick you up in three or four hours. Vincent, dear, you mind keeping an eye on her? She shouldn't be too close to her father."

Vincent blinked. "Oh— Y— Yes, ma'am, I don't mind at all."

"Wonderful! I expect to hear good news from Daisy herself in the evening." Mrs. Weasley's tone turned chirpy once more. "I'll leave you all to it, then. Have a good day!"