The Red-Haired Girl

I picked up the last item from my set of drawers and blew away the dust. Six, not seven, different smiles beamed up at me. Several silver and gold stars bounced back and forth in the background and erupted into merry fizz and squiggles as they hit the frames. The six happy faces pointed and "ooh-aahed" with full dopeyness much like most teenage boys I know. The twig-like remnants of the fireworks remained suspended in the air for a few seconds before wriggling into oblivion. The six figures immediately begin their happy banter and although I'd seen it a thousand times before, I braced myself for what was about to happen next. A minute later the six smiles were replaced with six frowns, two bruised eyes, plenty of sore limbs and a cut lip. Five of the figures in the picture skulked sullenly to the edges of the frame and disappeared completely into their other portraits. In the middle sat a lone boy of four, kicking and bawling.

Oh, Brother.

I am not in the picture because I am Virginia Weasley, the only girl and seventh child in my family. I am sister to Charlie Weasley - Former Quidditch Captain and Dragon Trainer with highest record of dragons caught; sister to Bill Weasley - Former Hogwarts Head Boy and Gringotts' Head of Magical Enchantments and Security, Percy Weasley, also Former Hogwarts Head Boy and Youngest Minister of Magic, Fred and George Weasley, owners of Weasleys' Joke Shop with multiple chains all across Britain and the globe and finally, Ron Weasley, Healer at St. Mungo's and well-known house elves' rights activist.

I am Ginny Weasley, Hogwarts Head Girl, Gryfinddor Quidditch Captain and receiver of most Outstanding OWLs ever recorded - 15, and I am tired. The idea of dishing orders and winning that Cup might be appealing to you but no one ever said anything about patrolling corridors when you could be lazing under a tree by the lake or aiming Quaffles with intense precision and accurate timing when you could be fast asleep in a four-poster bed. And the OWLs? I suppose it sounds extraordinary but only natural if you've got so much to live up to.

The door slams open and a waft of bacon, eggs, tomatoes and smoke spun its way around my room and under my nose before drifting out the window. Ah, burnt toast.

"Ginny!!! Have you got your robes?!"

I don't turn around to see who it is. Mrs. Arthur Weasley, otherwise known as Mum, will look as she always has for the past sixteen years I've known her. Brilliant flaming hair albeit streaked in grey nowadays and equally bright flowered blouse and skirt likewise streaked, but with potato gravy and a sprinkling of flour. I tossed the picture onto Advanced Runes and Ancient Magical Scripts and closed my trunk.

"I packed them last night Mum."

"Of course you did, dear."

I sigh. As usual, words directed at me, eyes staring somewhere else. This time at my old - well, Bill's old trunk really. No, not complaining. It had several compartments, very hand when it came to categorizing my accessories. When I got it two summers ago, I borrowed Everlasting Paint from Dad (he was repainting Sirius' bike in the garage) and slapped a fresh new sky blue on the trunk, covering the words "Hill Billy Wizzly", "I love you William!" and "Blood traitor". The rims and borders made out of sturdy holly complemented the silver lock Dad had installed.

"Levicorpus!"

With a sudden lurch I was staring at the end of my bouncing pony tail. Everything else looked strangely neater upside down. I cannot wait to turn seventeen.

"Sorry dear! Wrong spell!"

I caught the end of a bedpost as my body fell to the ground and quickly upright myself. My feet slammed heavily but nevertheless, in the right position on the floor, sending a cloud of dust into the air. The blood rushed back into my head as I swayed dizzily.

A series of coughing fits and sneezes ensued. Pigwidgeon hooted and flapped around frantically in her cage.

"Wingardium leviosa!"

With a flick of her wrist the trunk zoomed out the door. Before I had even finished waving away the dust, spell caster and object had disappeared down the stairs.

With Pig's cage and wand in hand, I glanced around my room one last time. It was just as I liked. Old maybe and with its mismatched furniture but still my own. The four walls were plastered with peeling yellow. A window centered one wall while posters of every existing Quidditch player and animal adorned the rest of it. It had become increasingly difficult to try and keep rivalring teams apart, and that had to be done every year when the rankings changed. At least cats were predictably afraid of dogs and deer of lions. Although Percy had once suggested, it would have been easier if I dislike animals. A small single bed was pushed against one corner of the room, complimented by a modest blue dresser, orange cupboard and the set of purple drawers, all secondhand. I've never had to share any of this and in this house that's saying something.

"Better hurry up and eat your breakfast!"

I locked the door and slipped the key in my jeans pocket. From the other side of the door, The Stunned Freshers were just starting to warm up. This is followed by a barrage of protests. Ever since I pasted the singing trio last year, the otherwise courteous Quidditch bunch had extended a begrudging welcome on condition that there was to be no singing. I listened as the harmony subsided to indignant shouts and trudged down the stairs as the remaining inhabitants of my room continued with their usual volley of insults.

Celestina Warbeck's latest hit "Charming My Way Back To You" drifted upstairs. The bored-looking Celestina Warbecks lined across the stairwell suddenly clapped their hands in glee and became much more alert. Without fail, they started belting the lyrics. The multiple Mums dressed in shirts with "We Love Becksy" flashing obscenely across the chest continued to clutch tightly at their autographed records, eyes glazed admiringly at the young singer cum actress.

Love potion, love potent,

Love muddle, love triangle,

You've gotta charm your way,

Your way back into this heart...

Mum stood in the kitchen with her back to me, perking up a notch as the chorus of Celestina Warbecks outsung her. Knives flew around at the command of her wand as several pots of stew piped up a bubbly tune. A row of sliced onions teetered dangerously over the sink while a new batch of carrots made their way from the chopping board into one of the pots.

I grabbed a plate off the rack, dodged colliding with a row of jumping beans and collapsed with relief at the furthest end of our dining table. It creaked in protest and I held on to my plate as the rest of the utensils and food leapt in the air and miraculously crashed back neatly onto the surface. I stared at the haphazard breakfast and proceeded to cut everything into squares. Unfolding the Daily Prophet, I stole one last glance at Mum before immersing myself in the latest Quidditch update. It wasn't until the Celestina Warbecks and starstruck Mums finished the song when Mum whizzed one of the pots from the stove and finally turned around.

"Goodness me!"

The pot fell with a loud bang, its contents splattering on every surface including Pig's cage. The plates, forks, spoons and knives leapt once again as the table screamed "Hot! Hot! Put out the fire!"

"Goodness! You'll be the death of me one day! When did you come in?"

"I've been sit-"

"Hot! Oooo, it burns!!"

"Why is your plate still full?"

"I'm not-"

"Scalding hot! Get rid of it!"

"OH SHUT UP!"

The table stopped.

"- really hungry" I muttered. Already she turned her back to me again and started casting household spells around the kitchen.

"You hurry and finish up young lady! Or you'll be late for the bus!"

"Bu.. bus? Isn't Dad taking me to the station?"

"As you very well know, Daddy is very busy at the Ministry! Perkins has taken leave. One of the little ones down with dragonpox.. the poor dear...."

"Why can't you take me?"

Uh-oh. Should've just let this one slide. And then it came.

"You know very well I've got a meeting with the other ladies from the Club at 12 o'clock on the first of every month! I just received a letter from Celestina. God bless the sweetheart!" I watched quietly as Mum gazed sickeningly at the Celestinas. They immediately sat up straighter in their cushy chairs while determined to continue pretending they weren't eavesdropping. Taking my chance, I slowly reached for Pig's cage and -

"Owww!" My fingers burned bright red.

Far from the loving expression she had so explicitly directed towards Celestina mere seconds ago, I found myself thinking how much she resembled an angry bull about to charge; nostrils flared, eyes narrowed. At me. The kitchen knives vibrating crazily around her did not help. She rapped the table several times with the ladle she was carrying.

"HOW MANY TIMES?? HOW MANY TIMES GINNY?? HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU IT IS RUDE TO LEAVE WHEN I'M STILL SPEAKING TO YOU!!!!!!!!"

More like screaming if you think about it.

"WHAT WAS THAT LOOK? DON'T GIVE ME THAT! I SAW THAT LOOK! WHEN? WHEN DID YOU BECOME SO IMPOSSIBLE! I THOUGHT FRED AND GEORGE WERE BAD ENOUGH! RUNNING OFF AND OPENING THAT SILLY SHOP OF THEIRS! CALLING IT A BUSINESS! TEACHING THOSE CHILDREN TO SKIVE OFF CLASSES! BUT YOU! I NEVER EXPECTED THIS FROM YOU! YOUR FATHER AND I -"

Whatever it was about Dad and Mum I never found out for at that moment a loud explosion broke her lecture. Escape! Making sure my wand was tucked in my jeans, I picked up Pig's cage and with the trunk handle grasped firmly in my other hand quickly marched through the front door without a backward glance. But of course, Mum recovered instantly from her shock.

"YOU COME BACK HERE YOUNG LADY! I'M NOT FINISHED WITH YOU YET!

The door of the Knight Bus swung open and Stan Shunpike grinned. "Pissed of yer ol' mam did ya? Thought the job's belonging to those twin brothers of yers?"

"It's not like they're home much." I dropped five Sickles into his outstretched palm.

"Ah yes! Got 'emselves a nice loft up at Diagon Alley so I 'eard from me mam."

"Yeah, she just needs someone new to scream at and since I'm the only one left....well, it's not like I applied for the job."

"Ye be alright Mizz Weezley. Me mam's the same way. 'Ere, lemme help ye with that trunk and we be gettin' ye to the platform in a jiffy!"

I hopped onto the bus behind Stan and scanned the first floor. Other than an old lady dozing off at the back, the seats were empty. Just as I slunk into the only window seat, the Knight Bus emmitted another loud bang and rambled away cheerfully; further and further away till we could no longer hear Mum's screams. I watched as the Burrow grew smaller and then I couldn't see it anymore. The trees grew bigger then smaller, bigger, smaller, biggersmallerbigger as the bus cruised (zig-zagged?) through the countryside.

If only I'm not youngest. If only I don't have six brilliant brothers. If only I'm not Ginny Weasley. If only many-other-things-I-can-think-of-but-know-they-would-not-come-true. There is always that constant battle between being myself and being what others expect of me. There are definitely perks for the things that I am. My own room in the tower, a later curfew, authorized spell-casting while on duty to name a few. But there's always the longing for the things I cannot be. Watching your friends run off to play a prank on Professor Snape while you pretend to look the other way is not easy. No. It's not about feeling guilty about not reporting it. It's about not being able to join in because you've got the badge pinned on your robes! There's the fear of disappointing the teachers. Then there's the parents. Ginny, you're not of age! Ginny, it's too dangerous! Ginny, get off that broom! Ginny, Ginny, Ginny! At this point the sole "If only" I know will come true soon is "If only I were older".

"King's Cross!!!"

I sigh for the second time today and hopped off the bus with my belongings in tow. With a hurried "Good luck!" from Stan, the Knight Bus zoomed away. I threw my things on a trolley and made my way to the barrier between Platforms 9 and 10. Well, here goes. Hands gripped firmly on the bars, I closed my eyes and ran towards the wall. Just as I gathered speed, a feeling of being squeezed washed over me and I slowed down considerably before popping to the other side of the wall to a halt. A cloud of smoke greeted my eyes and the train gleamed in the haze. The words "Hogwarts Express" rewrote itself from carriage to carriage in gold script. Frantic first years and their tearful parents were giving the performance of their lives in front of the first carriage. The other students wove in and out, exclaiming at the sight of a friend and others already crowding in groups, exchanging news and Chocolate Frog cards.

"Ginny! Ginny Weasley? Hair just like your father's! I recognize you Weasleys anywhere!". Familiar voice and one motherly request coming up.

I took a deep breath and turn around with as pleasant a smile I could muster to face a woman who I recognized to be one of Dad's colleagues. Beside her stood a plump eleven year-old who was stroking a tabby in her arms. She managed to pull off a passable greeting in her mother's eyes while staring pointedly elsewhere with a sneer-smirk hidden carefully beneath the slightest of smiles. Spoiled brat.

"How do you do Mrs. Hopkins? Don't worry, I'm sure Cindy - it is Cindy isn't it? Well, I'm sure she'll fit in just fine here."

I am Ginny Weasley, Prefect, Outstanding Student and Head Girl. This is my stage and the opening credits just rolled onto the screen.

A/N: Hi all! This is a new fic. In fact, my first Harry Potter fic. A lot of uncertainties lie in this piece. I'm still not sure if it's a one-shot or if it'll develop into a full story. I just came up with it an hour ago. Right off the bat, I need your opinions on whether I should write this as Ginny or do it in a third person view. I'd really appreciate your comments on this and any other suggestions you might have. Thanks!! :)

Oh yes, if you've decided that you like my fiction, please feel free to browse through my other work. I have a complete Duck fic, two abandoned ones here and an ongoing original fic on fictionpress.com under the same pen name.