Five young boys stood in a circle around the yard, staring down at their feet. The eldest bent down, and picked up a purple slug from the mud with his thumb and forefinger. Standing, he thrust it into his brother’s face.
“Eat it Charlie, and I’ll let you ride my broom for five minutes.” Bill always knew how to get his brothers to do what he wanted. He would never deny how clever he was. What could he say? It was a gift.
“Don’t do it Charlie! You’ll be sick!” a seven year old Percy cried. Bill punched him in the shoulder.
“Belt up Purse!” Percy sneered, he hated that bloody nickname.
“We’ll eat it!” Fred and George shouted again. Charlie glowered at them, he hated when they spoke together. It was just down-right creepy.
“Shut your traps. Right, I’ll eat the bloody slug…but I want ten minutes on the broom without your nagging supervision.” He crossed his arms over his chest, looking a bit menacing. Although he was the second eldest, he was the thickest and strongest. Charlie, much like his older brother, knew how to get what he wanted.
“Fine but-”
“What are you boys doing over there?!” All four boys jumped and scrambled away from the mud puddle, hoping that their mother didn’t get a good look at what mayhem they had been trying to brew.
Molly Weasley looked much too old for her actual age. Wrinkles were starting to appear around her eyes, mouth, and forehead. Her hair had small specks of gray in it, although she swore it was from the stress and nothing else. She was an average height, although sometimes she felt like she was shrinking. She thought it must have been because of all the tall boys she lived with. Her oldest, Bill, now reached just past her shoulder.
“So, are you going to answer me?” Molly asked walking towards them, a large basket of laundry on her hip.
“Nothing,” cried in boys in unison.
“Really than?” their mother said dropping the basket and waving her wand at it. The piles of sheets, trousers, and other clothing flew to the hanging line where it waited to dry in the warm summer’s breeze. “What’s that in your hand than Bilius Fabian Weasley?”
Bill looked wearily down at his hand for a moment, and then not so discreetly chucked the poor creature over his shoulder where it hit his youngest brother, Ronald, in the head a few yards away. Ronald though, was too busy gnawing the foot off of an innocent doll to notice the slug.
“Don’t tell me you were trying to get one of your brothers to eat something again.” Bill shook his head.
“Of course not mum, why would I do something like that? I’m a good lad!” Fred snorted at this comment, so Bill punched him and George in the arm.
“Hey, what did I do?!” George cried rubbing his shoulder.
“Nothing…..yet.”
“Don’t hit your brothers!”
“Listen mum, we weren’t doing anything,” Charlie said in a reasoning tone, “Bill was just showing us a slug. Isn’t that right Percy?”
Percy shrunk under the glares of his brothers. Afraid of what would happen to him if he didn’t agree with them, he nodded.
Molly took one last glance over all of her boys before deciding that they were defiantly lying. Percy refused to look her in the eye when he nodded, and Charlie was bouncing on his heels seemingly very interested in a wispy cloud. Bill glared at each of his siblings in turn, daring them to say something, while Fred and George just stood there, looking innocent. All were knowing signs that her young boys were being dishonest. Molly took a deep breath and let it out in a rather large sigh.
“I’m going to give you one last chance,” she said placing her hands on her hips, “what were you doing?”
“NOTH-”
“BillwastryingtogetCharlietoeataslug!” Percy clapped a hand out this mouth, mortified at what he had just done. Fred, George, Charlie, and Bill all looked levied.
“Percy!” George cried, “What did you do THAT for?”
“Yeah, now we’re all going to get in trouble!” Fred said giving him another hard punch in the shoulder.
“No, you’re not.” All five boys looked up at their mother in surprise.
“We’re not?” asked George.
“No, only you four are,” she said pointing at Bill, Charlie, and the twins each in turn.
“No Quidditch for a week.”
“WHAT?!”
“Don’t sass me!” Molly cried glaring at them all. “Now go wash up, supper is almost ready.” All five boys walked with their heads hung into the Burrow. They hardly even noticed the little red-headed girl at the door as they passed her. She stared up at her older brothers as they sulked by, wondering why they looked so grumpy.
Ginny didn’t have time to process this though, because the door she had been trying to pry open for the last five minutes stood ajar. Finally, she was free to find that horrible fiend.
The two year old had been looking for Megan for twenty minutes. With no success she went to go find her mother to ask where she was, when she spotted her beloved dolly. There sitting below the tree was her last brother, chewing on Megan.
How dare he take her! That was Ginny’s dolly, not his! Ron couldn’t play with Megan, he would ruin her dress and slobber all over her.
Carefully, Ginny made her way down the stone steps into the yard. Waddling as fast as her short legs and over cotton stuffed diaper would carry her, she made her way to Ronald. As soon as she reached him, Ginny clobbered him over the back of the head with her tiny little fist.
Growing up with six older brothers, she learned that there was only two ways to get someone’s attention: violence, or being cute. Since her youngest brother was immune to her cuteness, she was only left with the first option.
“Mine,” she cried hitting him over the head again. Ron pulled the plastic doll from his mouth, and looked up at Ginny.
“No,” he said simply and continued to chew on Megan’s leg. Ginny was starting to get frustrated. Her hand hurt from hitting him upside his big head, she didn’t know how much longer she could keep this up.
“Mine!”
“NO!” Ron cried, and he turned so that his back was to her. That was the last straw for Ginny. How dare anyone turn away from her, she was too cute for that! She tried at one last, drastic attempt to get Megan back.
Molly heard a loud wail come from her youngest son, who was clutching his mouth. Her only daughter, arm still raised, looked pleased with herself. Picking up the doll that had been thrown a few yards away, she turned back to Ron.
“MINE!” she cried before waddling back into the Burrow.
Molly shook her head as she ran over to her teething, three year old son. She really shouldn’t let Ginny hang around Bill so much.
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