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...
Daisy looked down at Fred's old T-shirt and George's jogger pants that she was wearing.
Tonks had told her to dress comfortably during training, and after rummaging through Daisy's entire wardrobe, none met her standard of comfortability.
She still braided her hair, though.
"It's—"
"Fred and George's, innit?"
"Yes. I borrowed some that they've grown out of and Mrs. Weasley still keeps."
"I'm shocked. Didn't you use to loathe P.E.? It was your worst score on every term, wasn't it?"
"I did, and it was! But it's a necessary skill, given the situation," said Daisy. "I may not turn out to be a professional, but I'll do my best."
"Good for you."
"She's doing better than a third of my Auror class already," Tonks said, slipping into the conversation. "Here for tonight's meeting, Charles? Did you Apparate well, or did you really end up three states away in Scotland?"
"Yeah, and I landed right on point, Dora. Thank you very much."
"Don't call me Dora!"
"You started it! Don't call me Charles."
✿ ❀ ✿ ❀ ✿
March 23rd, 1996
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Did you know Harry had an interview with Rita Skeeter and it's published today in the Quibbler?
DAISY LOOKED UP from her magical parchment and glanced at the mentioned magazine, laying on her desk.
The picture of Harry grinning sheepishly was plastered as its front cover. Across it was the article's title, written in red block letters:
HARRY POTTER SPEAKS OUT AT LAST: THE TRUTH ABOUT HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED AND THE NIGHT I SAW HIM RETURN
She wrote down.
I've read it. The young boy went through so much.
And Cedric... He deserved better, don't you think?
