The Burrow was built on marshy land.
Darcie and Daphne walked out of the Weasley's house from the kitchen's back door that opened into the garden.
It was a rare sunny afternoon, making the girls squint their eyes from the fiery brightness.
The garden was extensive and overgrown with a pond full of frogs. Several gnomes were running here and there, chased by Astoria and Ginny.
Beyond the fenced garden, Darcie spied on a vast orchard surrounded by high trees.
There, levitating and gliding on their old brooms, were Fred, George, and Ron.
Ron's broom was particularly the shakiest, its front pointing up at an angle to the right.
When the boys saw the garden getting crowded, they stirred the brooms toward it.
Fred and George pressed Ron between them from left and right and kept banging at his already shaking figure.
"Hey! That's not fair!" Ron shouted, his broom somersaulting and crashing into the pond with a loud splash.
"What happened?!" Mrs. Weasley's shrill voice arrived through the opened kitchen's back door.
She was attending to the family's chickens in the yard at the front of the house.
The yard also had a garage, where Mr. Weasley must have already gone after the afternoon snacks they just had.
There he stored his flying Ford Anglia and Muggle artifacts, Ginny had told Darcie.
"Nothing!" Fred shouted back, landing near the pond.
"A gnome fell into the pond!" George added.
Ginny and Astoria had already kicked many gnomes out of the garden, scaring the others.
They were covered in bite marks on their legs, but looking at their faces, none could tell if the bites were paining them or not.
Fred and George rose in the air, swirling around each other.
Then, with a sudden rush, they flew the brooms toward the house, almost brushing the window with the twigs.
The window rattled before snapping open outside with a bang.
"Not again!" a high-pitched voice reverberated angrily, but helplessly. "Fred! George! I will tell mum! Don't disturb me!"
Percy's head protruded out of the window, looking up at the sky.
Darcie also noticed a larger-than-usual rat perched up on Percy's right shoulder.
Ginny had told her about it as well.
This was one of their family pets — Scabbers.
"Hey! What are you doing?!" Astoria shouted, throwing a rock at Percy in vain.
Percy looked down at the girls and Ron.
When his eyes landed on Darcie, he cleared his throat, as if he was about to give an introduction during an interview. "I am studying the ministry's rules for first-year students of Hogwarts, of course."
A silence fell upon all, hearing Percy's words.
They all knew he would start school this September.
"Wow!" Astoria exclaimed.
Both Darcie and Daphne frowned, knowing the wild Greengrass was going to blurt something inappropriate again.
"Wow!" Astoria repeated, looking thoroughly astonished. "Other than my sister, I have only seen Darcie study for fun. But even they haven't gone down this rabbit hole."
"…"
"…"
"Pfft!" Fred couldn't control it and crashed his broom into the garden, holding his stomach.
"Haha!" George's broom swayed longer before following his brother's.
Ron was already guffawing, his voice oddly matching that of frogs' croaks.
"Hehe!" Daphne was the last to lose the hold, breaking out in an elegant chortle.
Percy's face had already gone red in shame, his ears getting redder in seconds.
And then something happened that shocked all.
The twins lost their laughs, Ron choked on his croaks, Ginny's eyes sparkled with an awing gaze, and Astoria's jaw dropped.
Even Daphne stifled her laugh, her nordic blue eyes trembling at the scene taking place by her side.
Such was the sight they were all looking at.
*
*
A few minutes back,
Greengrass Manor
"Narcissa…" Mrs. Rachel Greengrass forced out the words. "… what are you doing here?"
Narcissa frowned. Didn't she just explain her visit? She held up the little purse in her right hand and showed it to Rachel.
"Darcie forgot it," she repeated, clenching the wand in her left hand with annoyance. "Where's she?"
"Oh!" Mrs. Rachel had gone into a stupor as if someone had poured cold water on her head.
"Ah! Yes," she mumbled, thinking of something to say. "You didn't have to come yourself, right? You could have sent Dobby, no?"
"Well, I am here, now," Narcissa said, her annoyance increasing with every passing moment.
She had sent Dobby to fetch a gift the Malfoys had ordered for the birthday party. Only then had she noticed Darcie's purse lying on the sofa in the Drawing Room.
Darcie kept many things in her purse, including vials of potions and Madam Villanelle's whistle.
Narcissa knew her daughter's odd attachment to her things, so she didn't wait for Dobby's return.
Best was to visit the Greengrass manor and hand the purse over by herself, she had thought.
"Where is she?" Narcissa asked, looking around. "Will you call her for me?"
"Ah, that!" Mrs. Rachel smiled, her face paling. "She's playing with Daphne and Astoria in the backyard. You can give the purse to me. I will pass it to Darcie later."
Narcissa's frown deepened.
"Very well," she said, putting the purse on the round, well-polished table. "She ate little in the morning. Do give her light snacks, OK?"
"Sure."
Narcissa sneered and turned around, approaching the fireplace.
Behind her, Rachel sighed inwardly.
Suddenly, Narcissa paused, her eyes landing on the half-empty pot of floo powder on the mantle shelf.
Rachel's heart gave out.
It took little brains to know what was going on.
This was still early afternoon. Narcissa knew well that this fireplace was only accessible to very few people, and before Darcie, the chances of others coming here were almost null.
Then who emptied the floo powder pot, when the house-elf refilled it every morning without fail?
"On second thought…" Narcissa stepped back and picked the purse up off the table.
"I'd prefer handing it to her myself," she told Rachel, her voice colder than last winter's frost. "Please call Darcie, will you? Now."
Mrs. Rachel Greengrass gulped. "Oh, right! How could I…"
Sparks exploded out of Narcissa's wand.
"Where… is… my… daughter?" Narcissa's eyes had gained a furious, bloody color.
At this moment, she could do anything, and even casting the darkest magic was no distant possibility.
Mrs. Rachel could feel the air going cold around her, and she knew she couldn't hide it.
Not any longer. Sorry, Darcie, she apologized inwardly. Who knew this would happen?
And then Mrs. Greengrass told Narcissa everything.
Narcissa ground her teeth, and her grip on the wand tightened, making her palm go white.
She spun and marched toward the fireplace.
Since last year, Narcissa had been feeling that her daughter was getting swayed by other witches for selfish purposes.
First, it was the minister of magic. That bitch!
Still, seeing that Darcie was only benefiting through her, Narcissa held herself back.
Then there was that muggle-loving slut, who just popped out of nowhere — Madam Villanelle.
Both Villanelle and Millicent Bagnold were the pieces of the same clothes, Narcissa could instinctively tell.
But Madam Villanelle was Darcie's mentor, and a capable one, forcing Narcissa to act happily around her, too.
And now… the Weasleys?!
No. She would not let her daughter mingle with blood-traitors.
They were Malfoys, not common hoodlums like the Greengrasses.
"Narcissa!" Mrs. Rachel screamed behind her. "Don't be rash! The girls are just having fun! Nothing more."
Narcissa pointed her wand at the incoming witch, making her stop.
"Stay… out of it." She held a fistful of the floo powder and threw it in the fireplace. The flames roared green, and Narcissa entered. "The Burrow."
…
Narcissa walked out of the fireplace in the Weasley's kitchen, and instantly her mouth twisted in disgust.
Her eyes caught the sight of the children in the garden through the open back door, and she drew a deep, fiery breath before marching toward them.
But just as Narcissa was about to cross the threshold, an even more shocking sight presented itself to her.
All the children were laughing about something, Narcissa had noticed.
Even Daphne was giggling.
Suddenly, everything went quiet, all laughing dying a slow death.
"Hehe…"
A laugh originated like the chirps of birds in winter, full of life.
"Hehehe!"
Darcie was laughing.
None. Almost no one had seen Darcie laugh before, probably except for her family and Daphne.
It was almost as if she was incapable of showing such emotion and behavior.
Darcie's laugh echoed far and wide, a red flush arriving on her white cheeks.
And all marveled at the sight they were looking at, holding their breath.
Narcissa couldn't move, either.
She saw Darcie, heard her laugh, and remembered more.
A little girl of 3, surrounded by wizards and witches; her head up in defiance.
A little girl of 4, hiding behind pillars to listen to others' horrible gossips and insinuations as if her mother hadn't noticed her already.
And a little girl of 5, finding salvation in the countless books of her father's study room, when children of her age laughed in the open outside.
Memories surfaced in her mind inadvertently.
Narcissa's stomach tightened in a knot, her eyes misting, her eyes savoring the lost laugh. She took a step…
… and before the foot landed, she spun midair and disapparated.