Truth and Fairy Tales

Little Ron Weasley lay on his bed and looked pitiful in the way only seven year old boys can achieve. His bed was the smallest in the room and jammed behind the door, covered in worn blanket after blanket.

A stuffed Teddy bear with eight beaded eyes hung off the end of the bed and a poster of Keeper Johnny Firle above the bed still looked disgruntled at the moustache George had drawn on him.

"Stupid, stupid brothers," he muttered, or at least tried to. His face was pressed into the pillow and it was too much effort to lift his head. It was so unfair; Charlie wasn't even here for most of the year, so how come he got his own room at the top of the house, while he, Ron, was lumped in with Fred and George? They always talked about him as though he wasn't there, or tried to trick him. They were nice to him sometimes, but only enough so that he would think that they really were being nice the next time they fed him something funny.

"Oh look at these Ron," George had said that afternoon. "Dad took us into Diagon Alley and we got them. They're dead nice."

"Yeah, really yummy!" added George. "Tell you what we'll give you one in exchange for that Spinning Screaming Twister Game you got for Christmas."

There had been all this smoke, but he hadn't even noticed anything wrong until he'd felt a tingling in his mouth and checked in the mirror...most of his tongue was gone and the flesh that was left just flapped around horribly.

Of course, his dad, who was the best wizard Ron knew, had fixed it in about three seconds but it still tingled and Fred and George were still being yelled at by his mum.

The door slammed open and Fred stomped in. He was ten and stocky, his hair sticking out around his ears. He stood looking huffy, hands thrust into his pockets and leaning on one leg.

"Mum says I've got to say sorry and read you a bed time story. Can we just skip the sorry part?"

"No," said Ron sulkily, who was planning to milk this attention for all it was worth. It wasn't often his mother really made Fred or George be nice to him.

"Fine," sniffed Fred, moving to leave. "I'll go switch places with George, he's better at stuff like this and he only has to catch the potatoes once they're peeled for his punishment...I like that job, the skins make this great 'puck' noise when they zoom off the potatoes, and if you angle it right you can sometimes manage to bounce the skins off Errol, onto the pans, and thwack! Into the bins..."

Ron's eyes watered without his say so. Fred seemed to realize that Ron probably didn't like being told that chores were more fun than hanging around him.

"I'll stay," he said heavily and moved to sit down next to Ron, who had turned his face away.

They sat in silence for a time. A faint 'puck' noise could be heard downstairs, along with the usual clatter of the house. Ginny seemed to be singing along to a song off the radio in her tiny room next door. The ghoul clanged faintly.

"Merlin, this is boring!" said Fred, and his brother remained quiet. "Look. I'm sorry I gave you a stupid sweet that burnt through your tongue. But Percy was shopping with mum..."

Ron sniffled again and said: "It's not fair! You always pick on me when Percy's not here and you don't even do it to Percy anymore 'cos he's at school and he knows magic..."

"Well when you're at school and know magic, we'll be in third year, and we won't do anything to you," said Fred desperately. He seemed worried that his mother might tell him off if he made Ron even more upset. "I promise."

"That won't be for ages though," sniffed Ron.

"So," Fred shrugged. "We'll be gone in a few months and then you'll have this place to yourself." He gestured around the cluttered room as though it were some sort of treat for Ron. Ron still didn't look impressed and he buried his face back in the pillow. Sharing a room with brothers who weren't there wasn't the same as having a room of his own.

"I can't tell you any good stories," shrugged Fred. "Dad's got the only decent book, you know, that grim Muggle one? How come the only decent story book in the house is stolen by dad 'cos he likes the way the pictures don't move? All the rest are about princesses and stuff...I'll have to make one up."

Ron didn't like the sound of that. When Fred and George 'made stuff up' things never went well for him, like that Runes game that had been Charlie's up until the twenty-two sided dice got lost. Fred had decided that instead of playing with a dice, they would have Ron balance on his head and bet on how long he could hold it for...

"Okay...once upon a time...there was this...boy..."

"This is rubbish," complained Ron.

"MUM! RON THINKS MY STORY IS RUBBISH!"

"You're going nowhere until you've told him a story he likes," she called from downstairs.

Fred poked Ron hard. "Then you'll just have to make do, won't you?" he snapped. "Now, this boy, who was a huge pain to his brothers..."

"Hey!"

"Did I say this boy was called Ronald Weasley?"

"No."

"Well keep your trap shut. Anyway, this boy was called...Donald...Wesley. And despite being a huge prat and a pain, his brothers still liked him and wanted him around...then he went to school and made loads of friends and one day he met this girl..."

"Ew!"

"I never said he liked her! Anyway, she was brave, and pretty, and great, and all other stuff princesses are...only she wasn't a princess because princesses are boring. She was, um a queen."

"How do you know she was a Queen?"

"Because she had a crown! Merlin, will you let me speak?" Ron nodded. "Right, well, this boy didn't like her because he was...a King. And Kings have to marry Queens, but Don was sensible and knew all girls, except his sister and mum, were disgusting and diseased. But Don's dad-"

Ron wrinkled his nose. "How can Don have a dad if Don's the King?"

"Because it's a backwards world okay! In this story you can only be a King or Queen if you're the sixth son or first daughter of the royals okay? Now Don's Dad, who was not the king of this story, wanted his country to be part of the Queen's because it was, um, full of Muggles. So Don married the Queen, even though girls are diseased and barmy..."

"Was this one barmy?" asked Ron, feeling bad for Don.

"Oh yeah. Loopy as wormy spaghetti. She, er, liked homework and hated sweets and Quidditch."

"Poor Don," said Ron, who had not known that the world held such dangers as girls who disliked Quidditch.

"It wasn't all bad," added Fred hastily, "I said she was brave and pretty didn't I?"

"How did it all end?"

"Oh, er, how it always ends...they lived Happily Ever After even though he was stupid and boring and she was totally mad. They had lots of babies and everyone loved them. And Don's twin brothers, who were much more interesting and had a better story, visited loads. The end."

"That's a rubbish story," sniffed Ron. "Don never even got to fight a dragon."

"His best mate did that okay? Now I'm going to see if I can beat George's record for bouncing potato skins. Sleep or something."

"Fred?" said Ron, he yawned tremulously before continuing. "Do I have to marry a brave mad girl?"

"Oh yeah, everyone whose name rhymes with Donald has to."

Fred stood and headed to the door, hands still in pockets. Ron looked at him suspiciously when he turned with a somewhat serious expression. "Um, I am sorry about the Acid Pop...I didn't think it would scare you that much. I'll get Dad to read us Grimm's Fairy Tales tomorrow if you want."

Ron nodded. Once Fred was gone he scooped up his eight-eyed teddy bear and cuddled it sleepily.

The end.