The Burrow, Molly Weasley's noble roots, and Mrs. Rachel's horror

Darcie walked out last and drowned in the cacophony.

It was the second time she had arrived at the Weasley's kitchen, but its impression on her memory was as fresh as it was during the first time.

The kitchen was at the back of the house, and possessed a distinct cozy aura, Darcie remembered. There was a large wooden table in the kitchen, lined with plates, and with several chairs around it. Toward her left, there was a one-handed clock that kept going "Bong! Bong!", the end of its hand pointing at — Let the owl out!

Toward her right, on the perch outside the window, the family owl Errol was hooting out of his lungs, recognizing the familiar bongs of the clock.

And surrounded by all this, between the table and ash-covered Darcie, who had just walked out of the fireplace, were the Weasleys, Daphne, and Astoria.

Astoria's entire face was covered in such a thick layer of black soot that even Mrs. Rachel, her own mother, would be hard-pressed to recognize her, Darcie believed.

"Get my wand!" Mrs. Weasley was shouting, rubbing Astoria's face. "Where's my wand?! For God's sake! Percy! Let Errol out, will you? Fred! George! Where did you hide it? I am telling you two…"

"Now, look at my hands, mum," Fred said indignantly, showing his hands. "I don't have it. I swear on Ron's life."

"Why me…" Ron grabbed his head as if lightning would strike him the very next moment.

Fred threw him a look and put his hands down behind his back.

George passed the wand to him stealthily. "I swear, too," he said, showing his hands, "on Ron's life."

"Mum!" Ron looked horror-struck.

"I am here!" Mr. Weasley came running, holding his wand like a trophy. "Let me have a look at her."

It didn't take long after that. One flick of the wand and Astoria's face was as clean as it could get.

Only then did everyone notice that the number of people in the kitchen had grown by one.

Silence fell upon the entire Weasley family, who seemed to have gathered in the kitchen because of Astoria's wild stunt. Daphne still had a frown on her face as she looked at her little sister. Afar, standing behind her mother, Ginny had a silly grin across her thin lips.

Darcie dared to break the silence. It felt like only she could break it, anyway. "Good morning Mr. and Mrs. Weasley," she greeted, stepping in. "Sorry for the trouble."

"Ah! No, no…"

Hoooot!! The owl cut in with more wild hoots, gaining a rather high pitch.

With a flaming look that matched her hair, Mrs. Weasley stomped toward the window and almost threw the owl out. "Go!" she snapped. "Come, dear," she said amiably, turning around. "I was just plating cupcakes and sweets. Ginny told me you girls like them."

Darcie had already joined Daphne, looking like twin sisters. "We do," she nodded. "Thank you, Mrs. Weasley."

"Sit down, you all," Molly barked at everyone, her tone meaning business. "First eat, then do whatever you want. Percy! Fetch some spare chairs. Ron! Go with your brother. Fred! I saw you slipping my wand into the fireplace. Get it back, or I swear…"

Among the clamor, none got to know when minutes passed by.

Ten mismatched chairs were placed around the table, with four each on the long sides and two on the head seats. The boys and girls were seated on opposite sides of the table, and Mr. Weasley, still in his pyjama, was at the end, with Ginny on his left and Percy on his right.

To Ginny's right was Astoria, then Daphne, and at last, Darcie, making her nearest to Mrs. Weasley.

Molly Weasley, though, hadn't taken a seat. She flicked her wand and a tray of freshly baked cupcakes, pies, and other dishes livened the table up. "Ron! Wait!" she barked, standing behind Darice. "Wish her a happy birthday, at least."

"Oh, yeah!" Ron pulled the half-eaten cupcake out of his mouth and gave Daphne a furtive look. "Happy Birthday!" he said, and then immediately began devouring, piling the dishes up on his plate.

With stifled laughter, everyone began eating, and after some time, even Mrs. Weasley joined them at the table. "So," she said, plating a cupcake on Darcie's plate, "how goes your schooling, dear?"

"Whaat?!" Ron blurted, sending crumbs flying everywhere. "You realbyy go te school?! (-Gulp!-) I thought mum was just nagging us…"

Even Fred and George paused, looked at each other, and leaned on the table to hear of it.

"Humph!" Mrs. Weasley snorted. "You are saying it as I talk about her every day."

"Well, you do, mum," Fred cut in.

"Yes, every day," George added.

"Shut up!" Molly Weasley snapped. "If you look at the Daily Prophet, you will know it right away."

Ron sniggered. "Who reads newspaper?"

Mrs. Weasley visibly went red, fuming. Seeing her like that, Mr. Weasley had to chime in. "I read it's a 3-year course, Darcie," he said, looking quite astonished, "and the minimum age to enter is 13 years old, right?"

Darcie nodded. She chewed on a morsel, gulped it down, and then said, "Actually, you can divide it into 12 sub-courses, Mr. Weasley. Even Hogwarts' students from 3rd-year onwards attend a sub-course over their summers, and then complete the rest after graduating."

"Over summer?!" Ron blubbered. "What are they? Mental?"

Astoria, Ginny, Fred, and George burst out with laughter, finding the idea of spending summers in a school quite dumb, to say the least.

"Heh-heh!" Molly Weasley amused Ron with a grin. "Mental, truly? Well, you will be one of them, too, I guess. Your father and I have decided. Ron will join the Euro-glenn school in his 3rd year as well. Now laugh…"

Ron's face had paled, a piece of pie falling out of his hands.

From the amusing look in Mrs. Weasley's eyes, Darcie could tell that she was lying. She hadn't even got the name of the School right, calling it Euro-glenn instead of Euro-Glyph. But Darcie thought better than correcting her.

Ron seemed to have lost his appetite after that moment and became sulkier.

Darcie and Daphne kept quiet more often than not, taking a bite now and then. Astoria and Ginny had begun talking about gnomes and the birthday party.

It was then Daphne spoke after a long time, noticing something. "Were you all going somewhere?" she asked, eying Percy's formal attire.

Percy was wearing a red shirt, tucked in brown, baggy pants.

"He's been smarting himself up since the morning," Fred commented, sneering.

"Hoping to impress the minister of magic's favorite, we bet," George chortled.

Percy gained a fiery blush, his ears going red instantly.

"Don't you two dare mock him!" Mrs. Weasley hissed, pointing her wand at Fred and George. "At least he tries, unlike you lot."

But her words only kindled the fire, making even Mr. Weasley and Ron laugh along with the twins.

Darcie and Daphne shared a glance, knowing not what to say.

"Ginny!" Mrs. Weasley helplessly called out. "Why don't you take the girls up to your room? I will take care of this mess."

The entire table was covered in crumbs. Somehow, Darcie didn't feel any aversion to Weasley's table manners, though.

Ginny jumped off her chair, her red hair getting stuck with the odd-angled corners of the chair.

Darcie walked leisurely with Daphne on her side.

Noticing the odd clock in the living room, that pointed not at hours but places, and up the winding, creaking stairs, they arrived on the first floor, where Ginny's room was.

It was a small but bright room, Darcie noticed. Small was an understatement here. In truth, it was even smaller than her bathroom at the Malfoy Manor. But months of staying at Brews and Stews and interacting with wizards and witches of Diagon Alley had taught Darcie that not all bathrooms were as big as theirs.

A desk stood facing the open window, which looked out over the orchard garden. Darcie could even spy a few gnomes peeping around.

There was a large poster of the Wizarding band, the Weird Sisters, on one wall. On the other wall…

"That's Gwenog Jones, right?" Darcie mentioned, pointing at the poster. "Captain of the all-witch Quidditch team, the Holyhead Harpies. Are you a fan of hers, Ginny?"

"You know her, too?!" Ginny asked, astounded.

"I follow her," Darcie said, almost smiling. "She's good. You like Quidditch, then?"

Daphne was pulling Astoria off the window, who was trying to hop out, hoping to have a better look at gnomes.

Ginny threw herself on her little bed, and Darcie sat down beside her.

"I love it!" Ginny exclaimed, her eyes shimmering as she looked at the poster. "Mum doesn't let me fly with Ron and others, though. Hehe! They don't know I sneak out to the broom shed and fly on broomsticks secretly."

"Oh!" Astoria's ears seemed to have caught the hint of the ongoing conversation. "I have never seen someone fly as fast as Darcie," she squeaked, snatching her hand from Daphne's grip. "Which broomstick do you all have? Nimbus or Comet?"

Ginny's ears suddenly gained a red touch, her eyes stirring away from others' faces.

Darcie looked at Daphne, who was already frowning at Astoria. The little Greengrass was truly a wild card. One never knew what Astoria would do or say in the next moment.

"We have noble blood, too," Ginny suddenly said, as if recalling something. "Yesterday, after dinner, I heard father and mother talking about you guys. Father said that our blood is as pure as one needs it to be. Then, mother said our great-grand-da, mum's mother's father, was a distant descendant of a noble family. Father didn't believe her, though, I think."

"I see," Darcie said, sighing inwardly at the change of topic. "Which noble family?"

Ginny pressed her brows, thinking hard. "Oblus… No. Doplus… Oh! Douglas, yes! Douglas, I am sure."

Darcie's eyes widened suddenly. Douglas?! The word echoed in her mind like a chant. Wasn't it…

This wasn't the first time Darcie was hearing this name and its connection with a noble wizarding family.

It was last December when she had heard about the Daemonologie and its three parts from Madam Villanelle for the first time. Darcie had then consulted about it from Professor Elizabeth Burke's portrait, who was a witch and headmistress of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry before 1925.

It was she who had told Darcie that the second part of the Daemonologie might be in the hands of the House of Douglas.

Since then, Darcie had been searching for this House in books and records, but it was all in vain. As the workload increased months ago, Darcie had put this search aside.

Who knew, in this chance visit, she would hear about this name, and that too, from Ginny?

'Don't tell me,' Darcie wondered, shocked. 'Is it possible? Is… the second book at the Burrow?!'

"Darcie?" Daphne's call snapped Darcie out of her churning thoughts. "What happened?"

Darcie and Daphne were close enough for the young Greengrass to understand the shocked expression on Darcie's face. That understanding brought an even greater shock to Daphne, for it was Darcie. What could shock her, when even bewildering things had already happened to her?

"Daphne, you can't stop me now!" Astoria suddenly shrieked, pointing at the gnomes. "Look at them! They are just running around. I am going…"

And she flew away out of the room like the wind before Daphne could even hold her back.

"Watch out!" Ginny screamed, running behind her. "There's a loose step on the stairs!"

"I will tell you later," Darcie told Daphne, who nodded back at her. They too walked out of the room, hearing the bangs, as if someone had just fallen on the stairs.

Unknown to Darcie and Daphne, something extremely weird was going on at Greengrass Manor at this time.

Something truly out of expectations.

The fireplace in the Grand Hall of the manor, which was only reserved for close relatives and friends, roared with green flames.

Mrs. Rachel Greengrass was just going out of the Hall when she suddenly paused upon noticing the change. She frowned, for no one was supposed to come so early for the Party.

And then, her face fell, paling with fright… and dread.

Dressed in black, green, and silver, a witch walked out of the fireplace. Her hair was a darker shade of blond, her eyes blue, her face pale, and when she greeted Mrs. Rachel, there was an iciness in her voice. "Hello, Rachel," the witch sneered. "Pardon my intrusion. Darcie forgot her purse."

Rachel Greengrass stumbled half a step back. "Narcissa…"