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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TO HARRY, LIFE at the Burrowwas totally different from Privet Drive.
The Dursleys liked everything neat and ordered, whereas the Weasleys' house had strange and unexpected surprises hidden in every corner —the clock on the wall had things like Time to make tea, Time to feed the chickens, and You're late written on its edge instead of numbers; the ghoul in the attic howled and dropped pipes whenever he felt things were getting too quiet; and small explosions from Fred and George's bedroom were considered perfectly normal.
However, there were two things Harry found most unusual about life at Ron's. One, the fact that everybody there seemed to like him. Two, how he felt more like a Muggle than Daisy the Muggle next door.
Of course, Ron did say that she had been a good acquaintance of the family for eight years. And from what he had observed himself, she did come over every single day for nearly every meal.
But, wow, she didn't even bat an eye when a horde of owls flew through the window, dropping Hogwarts' envelopes like poo on the dining table. And when Mrs. Weasley offered Harry the flower pot, at which Harry could only glance at in confusion, Daisy was the first one who asked him, "You never traveled by Floo Powder before?"
"Right..." Ron interjected in realization with widened eyes, "Sorry, Harry. I forgot."
"Never?" Mr. Weasley asked, "But how did you get to Diagon Alley to buy your school things last year?"
"I went on the Underground—"
"Really?" said Mr. Weasley eagerly. "Were there escapators—"
"Escalators," Daisy corrected.
"—yes, and how exactly—"
"Not now, Arthur," Mrs. Weasley butt in. "Floo powder's a lot quicker, dear, but goodness me, if you've never used it before —"
"He'll be fine, Mum," said Fred, "Even Daisy's got it the first time. Harry, watch us first."
He took a pinch of the flowerpot's glittering powder and threw them into the flames. With a roar, the fire turned emerald green and rose taller than anyone in the room.
"Daisy—"
"Yes, I'm next," Daisy cut in, knowing the drill.
"Alrighty," Fred grinned. Then he stepped right into the greenish flame and shouted, "Diagon Alley!"
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