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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"Ah," said Fred.
"Oh, dear," said George, "Morning, Mum."
"So," Molly crossed her arms together and said in a deadly whisper, "Have you any idea how worried I've been?"
"Sorry, Mum, but see, we had to—"
All three of Mrs. Weasley's sons were taller than she was, but they cowered as her rage broke over them.
"BEDS EMPTY! NO NOTE! CAR GONE— could have crashed— out of my mind with worry— did you care? — never, as long as I've lived— you wait until your father gets home, we never had trouble like this from Bill or Charlie or Percy—"
"Perfect Percy," Fred muttered sarcastically.
"You could have DIED, you could have been SEEN, you could have lost your father his JOB—"
Molly had shouted herself hoarse before she finally turned on Harry, who had backed away from the range of fire.
"I'm very pleased to see you, Harry, dear," she said. "Come in and have some breakfast."
"Oh. Who is she?"
Harry motioned to the girl who, though sitting in the Weasleys' dining room like she belonged, didn't look one bit of a Weasley at all. She was blonde, graceful, poised, and dressed in a fancy, floral dress with strands of her hair professionally braided.
"That's Daisy."
"Daisy?" Harry inquired, looking at Ron, "What year is she in? Is she a Gryffindor, too?"
"Oh, no, she's a Muggle."
"She's a— she's a Muggle? And she knows about— you know, what we are?"
"She's like family," Fred shrugged. He made his way towards the girl and exclaimed ecstatically, "Mornin', Daze!"
"Why are you here this early?" George added.
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