Wow... requests! Just so you lovelies are aware, the reason I've been out of commission for a bit was because I was forcing my muse to dance for me... or actually forcing her to help me with a writing contest over at
Project Ferret. So you'll believe me... here is my entry to the first part. The voting is done with, so I feel I can post this safely here. Head over there to see the requirements.
Hand-Me-Downs
The owls arrived just as they had every year since Bill was 11. Molly Weasley accepted the letters and waved the birds off with a distracted air. Startled and slightly offended, the owls flapped around the kitchen table for a moment, fighting over some odd bits of toast before a loud explosion from further in the house set them all scrambling for the window over the sink.
“Fred! George!” Molly tossed the envelopes onto the kitchen table and turned to eye the clock on the wall. They weren’t in mortal peril, and the explosion hadn’t killed anyone. “What have I told you about blowing things up in the house?” Her voice rose, remarkably shrill and carrying in the large house.
“That if the house is no longer structurally sound, we’re going without supper,” Fred answered as the twins entered the kitchen, grabbing up an apple from the gleaming countertop.
“Or maybe it was just that you shouldn’t do it at all,” Molly shook her head almost fondly as she headed out of the room to finish the laundry. She stepped over the cat chasing Scabbers and nodded at the envelopes on the table. “Hogwarts letters have come.”
The clattering of feet was heard on the stairs, and Ron tumbled into the kitchen. His face was bright and eager as he scattered the letters, finally extracting his own. “My Hogwarts letter.” His voice held reverence, and he carefully opened the envelope and unfolded the parchment letter.
“Ah, look, Fred,” George crossed the kitchen, a predatory gleam in his eye. “They grow up so fast.” He wiped a fake tear from his eye and grabbed the letter from Ron.
Fred took the letter and turned it over and over. “You’re a lucky chap, Ronnikins. Most boys starting at Hogwarts would give anything to be in your shoes.”
“They would?” Ron stared down at his untied shoelaces before looking up at his brothers again. “They aren’t even new shoes.”
The twins gave an exaggerated sigh in unison and pushed Ron into a chair at the table. “Listen, Ronnie… try to focus. Bill was Head Boy. Charlie was Quidditch captain and the greatest Seeker in ages. Percy is a git, but he’s clever. Plus we’ve already stolen his new Prefect badge from his envelope. And as for us…” Fred looked at George, and they both shrugged as if out of modesty. “We’re going to be the greatest pranksters Hogwarts has ever seen. The Weasleys are legendary, and you’re a Weasley.”
They watched Ron’s eyes grow big before George burst his bubble. “I don’t know, dear brother. I don’t think ickle Ron has what it takes to be a true Weasley. He might not live up to the family name.”
“You’re right, George. You’re always so right. It’s uncanny how right you are,” Fred gestured for Ron to lean in. “You’ll have to be Quidditch captain, Head Boy, AND get 27 OWLs, or…” He gave a one-armed shrug.
“You can’t even get 27 OWLs,” Percy rolled his eyes at their idiocy as he tripped over a broomstick laying across the doorway and nearly squashed Scabbers as he fell into the room. “What’s wrong with Ronald?” They all turned to look at Ron, whose face had gone oddly green.
“I’m going to be the worst Weasley ever,” Ron sat down hard, missing the chair entirely.
“Oh, I don’t know. Mum has that cousin who’s an accountant, and the twins are pretty bad,” Percy glanced at them for a clue, but they had miraculously disappeared.
“I’m stupid and I won’t have any friends,” Ron put his head in his hands and started to moan, his voice rising with each word. “Everything I have is rubbish, and Fred and George said…”
“Why would you start listening to them today? Have they ever told you the truth about anything?” Percy had opened his envelope while Ron whined and was shaking it out over the table. He continued to talk while he peered under the table and chairs, clearly in search of something. Picking Scabbers up by the tail, he pushed him in Ron’s direction. “You’ll have to work very hard and spend more time concentrating on your studies than playing with your school chums, but I’ve always thought that having a lot of mates is overrated by those who have no skills to speak of.” He sat back in confusion.
“Must be nice to think so,” Ron blinked at Percy under the table from his spot on the floor. He stroked Scabbers absently as he spoke. “Everything I have is rubbish anyway. Old robes, old books, old cauldron… even Charlie’s old wand. And Mum said I can’t even have a proper owl.” He stuck out his lip.
Percy pushed himself up into a chair and sighed. The badge was really and truly not there. “You can have Scabbers, if that will make you feel better.”
Ron’s face lit up, and his grip tightened on the rat. “Really? I mean…” He leaned casually against the chair, which promptly fell over. “That’s kind of a weak gift, right? It’s an old rat who can’t even do anything.”
“Then don’t take him,” Percy pulled off his glasses and started to furiously polish them, a sure sign he was frustrated. Shoving the glasses up onto his nose, he held out his hand, as if to demand the rat back.
“No! It would be rude to turn down a gift, even if it IS a rubbish sort of gift. But I think it could be okay. Maybe I can teach him some tricks,” he had visions of himself surrounded by all sorts of fellow students, oohing and aahing over Scabbers, the Amazing Flying Rat… or something similar. Ron clutched the rat to his chest.
“Scabbers doesn’t do tricks. Sometimes I put him on my newspaper, and he scutters back and forth and looks like he’s reading…” Percy shook his head. “So, you can have Scabbers. Now, where’s my Prefect badge?”