There comes a point in every person's life when childhood is left behind for something different. It's not quite adulthood but it's certainly different than the play grounds and carefree world of before. Homework takes the place of kindergarten art projects, toy brooms are traded for real ones, and life changes.

Its youth, of some kind, and as many will say it can be the best and worst time of your life.

When Arthur Weasley sat on the stool before all of Hogwarts he was strangely calm. George had warned him that it would be scary, everyone would be watching. Yet as Arthur sat there and the hat was lowered on his head a feeling of relaxation came over him.

"Ahhh…." he heard the hat say, "the next Weasley."

Arthur wondered how the hat knew he was coming but then again it was the same hat which had sorted George.

"You already know where you're going, don't you?" the hat said.

Yes. Arthur replied in his mind.

For some reason he'd never really had a doubt as soon as he'd stepped through the doors to the great hall. It was like the light turned on and he just knew.

"Gryffindor!" shouted the hat.

Arthur smiled.


Fourth year of Hogwarts was completely about Fredericka James. She was a Ravenclaw 5th year with Charcoal black hair down to her shoulders. She was a half blood and was always talking about the ingenuity of muggle scientists. Arthur loved to listen to her talk, among other things.

"It's killing me, Tank," Arthur said one day at breakfast.

Tank was not the other boy's real name, everyone just called him that and no one exactly knew why. His real name in fact was Ronald McClaggen but it was a rare person who knew that. He was also Arthur's best friend.

"Oh, give it a rest!"

"I can't! Look, I can hardly eat." Arthur pointed at his plate still containing eggs and bacon though the toast was gone.

Tank just gave him an incredulous look and Arthur sighed.

"She's perfect, a perfect jewel."

"A diamond?" Tank offered in a dull tone.

"Oh, yes…" Arthur tipped his head to the side.

Tank looked skeptical. "You know she really doesn't like Gryffindors."

"Should she hold that against me?"

"There's nothing about 'should' here."

Arthur sighed again, starring off at the Ravenclaw table.

"Have you even talked to her?" Tank asked, biting a piece of bacon.

"Yes!" Arthur said angrily. "I've been around in the library when she's gone on talking about automobiles and…" he sputtered, "…other stuff. I've asked her questions."

"What about asking her out?"

Arthur just scowled and stared at Fredericka. Her hair seemed to shimmer in the light and he longed to feel that under his fingers. Her features were smooth and her lips thin so that when she smiled all you could see were beautiful teeth. She was definitely a jewel to his eye. Suddenly, her head turned toward him. Arthur nearly fell out of his chair and smashed his head on his plate looking down and away.

"Bollocks! She's looking over here!" He whispered, shaking in fear or possibly delight.

"You nearly fell out of your chair and smashed your head on your plate," Tank commented, pointing with his fork.

"Is she still looking over here?" Arthur hissed.

"I don't know."

"Well, look!" he snapped.

"Actually…"

A hand tapped Arthur's shoulder. Lifting his head and turning around Arthur looked up at Fredericka. He nearly wet his pants.

"Hi," he said.

"You're Arthur, right?"

"Yes."

She grinned, teeth abundant, her hands on her hips.

"Well, I must say you are cute for a Gryffindor!" She laughed loudly. Arthur blushed as red as his hair, at which she laughed some more. "And getting cuter. Would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me next weekend?"

Arthur blinked. "What?"

Fredericka ruffled his hair. "I think you heard me."

"I…uh…did…you-you're asking me?"

"I just did, didn't I?" She smiled, pushing a stray hair behind her ear. "So?"

"Yes, yes! Of course! Yes!"

Tank snorted into his orange juice.

Fredericka broke up with Arthur two months later for Alphonse Rosier from Slytherin. He bought her a diamond necklace and treated her like trash. Arthur didn't talk to her the whole rest of that year.


"Does anyone want to do my potions homework for me?"

"Is that a joke, Terrence?" Tank asked from where he sat on his bed.

"Uh…"

Terence Longbottom of Gryffindor was well known in their year as having such an aversion to Potions that he once made himself physically sick at the mere thought of an upcoming exam second year.

"If by 'want' you mean 'no way in hell' then yes, yes I do," Tank replied.

"Leave him alone, Tank," Alexander said in his would-be-prefect tone of voice. "Though to fair, Terrence, you do need to get it done."

"I think I will die before that happens."

Tank snorted. "Because it will take you that long to do it or you're going to make a potion to kill yourself instead?"

Arthur chuckled and looked up at the scene. "I worry for you all when its time for OWLs next year."

"Don't worry about me," Alexander said, standing up and giving Arthur a wink, "that will be a day of beauty for me."

Tank just barked a laugh.

"Oh my god," Terrence said, "I'm going to fail those too!"

"Focus on the potions, man!" Tank said throwing a quill in Terrence's general direction.

"Yeah," Arthur said, leaning off the end of his bed, "If you start worrying about those now you'll die before you get the chance to see if your worries had any point!"

"Dear Merlin…" Alexander mutter, leaving the dorm.

Across the room, Terrence looked as though he was going to throw up.

"Come on, Terrence, maybe if you beg you can get a 5th year to do it for you in return for letting them practice their Defense spells on you!"

"Arthur," Tank said, "you are just full of wonderful ideas."

Arthur threw a shoe at Tank, missing entirely.

"See what I mean?"


Arthur knew he shouldn't have gone. He knew Amy was just a summer fling, they both did. But it was so nice to be with someone who wasn't part of the Wizarding world and was just simple. Plus, he was older now, going into his 5th year. He could afford to take chances.

As Arthur stood before the front door of his house at four in the morning he wondered how good an idea it was. Thinking the back door was probably a better idea than the front, Arthur crept along to the back of the house. Putting the broom he'd rode to her house back in their travel broom shed, Arthur opened the door to the kitchen and slipped in. He closed the door with an audible click and tried to hurry to the back stairs.

"Arthur."

It wasn't yelled but Arthur felt as if it had been. He contemplated just running up the stairs, pretend he hadn't heard, but he knew he couldn't. Adjusting his glasses, Arthur laid his coat on the kitchen table and walked down the hall to the parlor where he knew his mother was sitting. He stood in the hall opposite the entrance to the room. His mother was in a chair facing him. The chair was really green, he knew, but with the lights off it just looked black. Even his mother was cast entirely in shadow and, now that Arthur was here, she did not turn on the light.

"And where have you been young man?"

He didn't answer her, simply because he didn't know what to say. He heard the light clink of her placing some knitting on the table. This was a bad sign. She only knitted now in the muggle way when she was very angry. Arthur supposed she would be; he'd never snuck out before.

"I asked you a question, Arthur."

She had stood up.

Arthur's pulse quickened. "I know," he replied, not defiant, only factual.

"Then perhaps you should answer me, where have you been that keeps you out until four am?"

"Nowhere important, mother. Can we talk about this in the morning?" Arthur was vying for time to let her anger cool.

His mother's temper had been getting shorter and shorter as she grew older.

"No, we cannot. We will talk about this now."

She was standing one meter from him with her arms crossed over her chest. It was still dark enough that he could only partially see her face through the blackness. Why wouldn't she turn on a light?

"Mum, please," he tried.

She smacked him on the side of the head; it stung.

"Mom, ow!" he said, stepping back from her.

"Don't you think I've been worried? Worried sick over you! I go to check on you and your brothers before I go to bed and I find yours empty!"

Looking past her, Arthur could see now in the parlor the remnants of one of those magic herbal remedies she had been trying for the past year. The apothecary told her they were calming or that they brought her serenity, infused with dragon blood and mandrake oil or other such trash. Usually they just made her crazy. Arthur swallowed hard and wondered if his father was awake.

"Empty!" his mother shouted and he looked back at her. "You could have been anywhere! A vampire could have gotten to you for all I knew!"

"Mom, a vampire?" He knew he sounded petulant.

This comment earned him a slap in the face.

"Don't talk to me like that, I am your mother!" She was screaming now.

"Mum…" he began, his face stinging.

He couldn't rise to her anger.

"You didn't even bother to leave a note! You could have been dead, run away to spite me, who knows? How could I know what you'd been up to? Don't you think I care about your well being and should know where you are, especially when you're not back until four am?"

"Mom, please!"

"And now you won't even tell me where you were so I am left to wonder!"

"Mom, stop!" he finally yelled back.

"I will not! I am your mother. You need to listen to me, not run off to some harlot!" Arthur bristled, his anger rising. "What am I supposed to think, Arthur?" Arthur tried to bite his tongue. "How can you treat me like this?" she yelled.

"I treat you!" Arthur's resolve suddenly snapped. "I treat you? I treat you! How about how you treat me, you vile old selfish bitch?"

He shouldn't have said that.

It was then as it smashed into the side of his head that Arthur realized she was still holding the glass she'd been drinking her herbal remedies with. Pain flashed through his skull and Arthur stumbled violently backwards, hitting the wall and crumbling to the floor, his glasses flying across the hall. Arthur kneeled, his chest heaving nearly on the floor and one hand cradling the spot on his head where the glass had shattered. He felt sticky blood.

"Worthless, disobedient son!"

"Mother…" he said weakly, tears starting to form in his eyes.

Arthur heard feet pounding down the stairs but he couldn't look up.

"Anne!" It was his father.

"Why must you defy me?" she was still yelling. "Have you nothing to show for yourself? Have you no respect for me?"

Arthur looked up at her now. His father had turned the light on the stairs on and he stood at the bottom step. His mother stood over him, back lit now so he could only see her eyes in her black figure.

"Your brothers are not like this." Arthur briefly wondered how she would act if she knew the truth of what her other sons got up to. "They are prefect! Why are you not the same?" She finally screamed and the tears in Arthur's eyes broke through.

"I have done everything for you!" Arthur protested. "You and father. I've tried so hard at Hogwarts; I'm in Gryffindor! I'm not failing any classes, any! I am doing well!" But he could see the look in her eyes which said 'it's not enough.' He couldn't say he was a prefect like George or that he'd had perfect grades in his first year like Patrick. "Mother, please! I have done well, I have!"

Then, suddenly, she was hitting him again, her hands sharply across his head, digging shards of glass deeper into his skin. It was only now that he screamed in pain. All the while in those few seconds she kept saying, "why, why, why?"

Then she was gone, the hands removed. Arthur looked up through his fingers over his face. His father had pulled her away. She struggled for a moment then calmed, turning away.

"Arthur," his father spoke, "go up to your room now."

Not bothering to comment or argue Arthur pulled himself off the floor, one hand still at his bleeding head. He swept past them both and rushed up the stairs, not pausing to try and overhear their conversation or get his glasses. Looking up Arthur saw George and Patrick standing at the top in their pajamas. Two steps away he stopped and stared at them. He knew he must look a sight with blood at the side of his head and tear stains down his cheek. They backed up to allow Arthur to reach the top and stand in front of them. Patrick was looking up at him, a little fearfully, as if should he stand too near Arthur he would suffer the same fate. On his left George was looking past him down the stairs with a stern expression on his face.

"The shattering glass woke us up," Patrick said finally, fingering the corner of his pajama top.

Arthur just nodded.

"I know you wanted to see the muggle girl," George said and Arthur looked up at him, "but you shouldn't have snuck out. You could have just asked to go visit her."

George was the logical Ravenclaw as always. Arthur expected no less of him and knew he was right. The older boy usually was right.

"But…" he began, "mum shouldn't have done that to you." George flattened down some of Arthur's hair as he spoke in an uncharacteristic affectionate way.

The eldest Weasley brother always cared for Arthur and Patrick, looking out for them at Hogwarts, helping them with their studies, and defending them, mostly Arthur, from their parents. However, he was rarely physically affectionate. Normally he only passed on advice and knowledge from having lived two or five years longer than they.

At this surprising show of physical contact Arthur felt his knees shake and he fell against his brother wrapping him in a tight hug. He buried his face in George's shoulder and felt George wrap his arms around him with an ease which made it seem as if George was more comfortable with physical contact than anyone in all of England. Arthur let himself cry a little while George gently patted his back.

"Alright," George said and they pulled apart, "let's clean you up."

George led him to the bathroom where the two of them washed the blood from Arthur's face and removed the shards of glass. Patrick stood in the doorway and watched, occasionally looking nervously back at the stairs.

"We'll be going back to Hogwarts in a month," George said as he taped a piece of gauze in place on the side of Arthur's head.

He looked at George in the mirror. "I know."

"Done." George said, putting the medical tape back in the medicine cabinet. "I'm afraid I don't know any charms to…" there he just trailed off and forced a little smile.

"You wouldn't be able to anyway," Arthur said with a bit of a smile back.

"True."

At that the three boys went to bed. Arthur locked the door to his room trying not to think.

His father never mentioned the night's events and Arthur never did tell his mother where he had been.


"Arthur, wake up."

Rolling over, Arthur pulled the pillow over his head. However, the pillow was quickly pulled away.

"Yeah, ok, funny. Get up, Arthur."

Arthur cracked open one eye to see Tank looking down at him.

"I don't need to look at the clock to know it's some time after 1 AM," Arthur said, half into his pillow.

"1:37, actually."

"We're going to the kitchens, Arthur," Alexander called from the dorm door. "So, get your Weasley arse out of bed."

"Be nice, Alexander," Terrence said as he jumped onto Arthur's bed making Arthur 'oomph' in response, "the man just woke up."

Arthur saw Alexander roll his eyes at the door and cross his arms.

"This was your idea, Terrence."

"Who isn't hungry at 1:37?" Tank said, pulling the covers off Arthur forcing Terrence to stand up. "Aren't you, Arthur?"

"You just woke me up; why would I be hungry?" he grumbled.

"It's 1:40 now," Terrence said helpfully.

Arthur sighed and rolled onto his back. Tank and Terrence stood on either side of his bed. By the door Alexander drummed his fingers on his arm. This was what he got for being in Gryffindor wasn't it? Crazy friends. Arthur huffed and sat up.

"Ok, ok, let's go."

Tank and Terrence whooped, threw Arthur's robes on to Arthur's head, and yanked him out of the bed.

"All right, all right," Alexander said, standing up straight and opening the door. "Come on you clowns."

Arthur pulled his robe over his head, grabbed his wand off his bed side table just in case, and stepped into his shoes. The four of them crept down the stairs and into the common room. One third year girl was still awake down there with a charms book over her face. She peeked out from under it as they went by and waved weakly. They were 5th years after all and clearly knew what they were doing sneaking out.

"I want a sandwich," Tank whispered once they were out the portrait hole, "a turkey and tomato and cheese sandwich! No! Waffles, Waffles would be great!"

"I will eat whatever the house elves push into my hands!" Terrence said, bounding ahead of them.

"Oy! Terrence!" Alexander whispered harshly, "calm down or you'll get us caught."

"No! Toast and waffles!" Tank continued. "Just butter and cinnamon on the toast and whipped cream and strawberries on the waffles. Oh yes."

"You know, I think you are actually making me nauseous," Arthur said, shoving Tank to the side.

"Shall we get you a cup of tea then, darling?" Tank asked, throwing an arm around Arthur's shoulders.

Alexander laughed and Tank wiggled his eyebrows. Arthur just shook his head and they plowed forward, catching up to Terrence. The four walked on in silence, shoving each other good naturedly now and then. They had to duck into a near by classroom once to avoid Ogg coming around a corner on patrol. Apart from that the Gryffindors found their path blissfully empty and quiet.

Upon reaching the painting of fruit Tank stopped before it, turned to his friends, did an exaggerated bow and put his hands up in a gesture of 'after you' to the others. Arthur stepped up, tickled the pear, and in they went.

"Food, ho!" Terrence cried and practically flew around the four large preparation tables in the middle of the room to get to cupboards.

"Just don't knock any pans down you nut," Alexander said over his shoulder to Terrence as he walked over to one closet. "Now, oh, come to me pumpkin pie."

Tank looked at Arthur and held out his hand. "Shall we, husband, dear?"

Arthur took Tank's hand and twirled him around once, much to Tank's surprise.

"Of course," he replied and grinned.

Alexander was sitting cross legged on one of the prep tables now, the one which was positioned directly below the Gryffindor table above in the Great hall in fact. Alexander had a pumpkin pie and a plate in front of him. He cut a piece and began to attack it with his fork.

"Oooo, pie!" Tank said.

"Oh no!" Alexander held his fork out toward Tank threateningly. "Don't you dare. Get your own."

A few house elves were awake now, all clustered around Terrence.

"Oh, certainly," he was saying. "I'll have some custard and biscuits and, oh, what ever else you have!"

Hopping up onto one of the side counters, Arthur sat, careful not to hit his head on any pots or pans hanging on the wall. Tank walked over and leaned his hip against the counter edge next to Arthur.

"So, are you really not hungry or do you want something?"

"Actually," Arthur said, "tea wouldn't be bad."

Tank chuckled. "Old lady already, but all right. Ask and you shall receive." He stood up straight and walked over toward the fireplace at the far end of the room.

"You don't have to get me tea, Tank," Arthur called after him.

"Hey," Tank turned and walked backwards facing Arthur, "I have to do something for you now and then, wouldn't want to be a free loader," and he turned back around.

"Oh, I love pie."

Glancing over at Alexander on the table, Arthur laughed as the other boy lay on his stomach, pie at his nose, and shoveled the last of his second piece into his mouth. Over at Grand Central House Elf Station Terrence was now holding one plate full of cakes and a basket of bread, fruit, and who knew what else.

Arthur really did have a strange troop of friends. Alexander was the serious type most of the time, reading all sorts of books on obscure subjects like vampire history, broom theory, and banshee protection. He did fine in class, except when he feel asleep in history of magic but really who could stay awake in that class? Many thought Alexander was a stuffy sort, too clean and sarcastic. But Arthur knew when Alexander wasn't pushing his black hair out of his eyes behind a book the boy could be relaxed as well, make a mess in the kitchens or not make his bed, laugh at jokes. Arthur knew he just wanted others to respect him and see him as smart and important, even if he did have some strange reading interests. He just didn't relax around a lot of people. Arthur felt glad to be one of them.

Terrence, on the other hand, was the messy, feisty sort. He was out going like Tank but not nearly so dramatic and larger than life. He just liked to talk and make friends. He was built like a frog, thin and gangly with chestnut brown hair and green eyes. His smile gave him chipmunk cheeks and his hands were the biggest Arthur had seen on someone so thin. Terrence had friends in every house, even Slytherin though he was a staunch Gryffindor. He was quick to get into arguments and did not take losing well. He'd lost more points to the house than any of them due to his fights. However, Terrence also knew how to laugh just as quickly as argue. He didn't let the petty get to him and overall would rather laugh about something and let the little go than fight over it. It was the big insults one could expect him to die hard over. Arthur loved Terrence's sense of humor and personable nature.

Then, of course, there was Arthur's crazy, dramatic, funny, witty, and sometimes psychotic best mate. He may have been a little outrageous at times, always putting on his own little show for the outside world but Arthur would never trade Tank. He knew Tank better than anyone. He knew Tank's insecurities about others liking him, his constant fighting with his brother, his fear of bees, his dislike for herbology, just as he knew about Tank's witty humor and dashing smile. And he knew Arthur just as well which made them a perfect match.

"Your tea, sir," Tank said as he walked up to Arthur, cup and saucer in hand.

"Thanks," Arthur said, taking the cup.

Tank joined Arthur up on the counter and began munching on a sandwich he had been carrying in his other hand.

"Gave up on the waffles and toast?" Arthur asked.

"No, I may get them later but the sandwich was calling to me." He took a bite and looked at Arthur. "Plus I would have had to make the other two; you know waiting to toast and all."

"The house elves could have done that."

"I think they are rather distracted by Terrence," Tank replied.

They both looked to the other side of the room. A chair had been summoned for Terrence; his previous food platters were set to the side and now the elves were bringing him various dishes to try samples of. Terrence did not seem to have any problem with this.

"You may have a point there," Arthur said, taking a sip of his tea.

"So, how do you think this year is going to go," Tank asked. "OWLs and all?"

"It's only September," Arthur replied with a shrug. "It's hard to say. I mean my brother did fine when he took his OWLs but that's George. I think we'll be all right. I mean you and I can study together for them and I mean study for real you know. Plus, we have Alexander and-"

"I didn't just mean OWLs, Arthur," Tank cut in.

He stopped and looked at Tank, "Oh… well."

"I mean, well, we're getting older and all and we're not just second or third years anymore. Older and wiser and more work and that…." Tank was rambling. "And we're all going to be doing different things eventually and taking different OWL classes next year and just…" he stopped suddenly then sighed slightly. "You're always going to be my best friend, right Arthur?"

Arthur stared back at Tank's earnest face for a moment then smiled warmly. "Always Tank, you couldn't tear me away. Don't doubt it."

"Oh, dear."

Both boys turned to look at Alexander at the sound of his voice.

"I think three pieces may have been a bit much," he said, pushing the remaining pie away from him.

Tank laughed, shoving the last bites of his sandwich into his mouth. Arthur glanced at Tank out of the corner of his eyes. Certainly no one else saw the sides of Tank that he did; no one else saw the Tank under the bravado, under the laughter and humor and antics. Arthur realized how special he felt then that this side of Tank was his alone.

"Ok, ok, enough," Terence said, walking back over toward them, plate and basket in hand, elves trailing behind him. "What do you say we head out, mates?"

"Yep!" Tank said, jumping off the counter.

Arthur gulped down the last of his tea and followed suit. The three of them dragged Alexander off the table, forcing him to leave his pie.

"I'm full now but I won't be later!" He protested.

"Terrence has enough food there to feed the whole house," Tank said. "I think you will be just fine should hunger plague you again tonight."

The four Gryffindors sauntered down the dark hallways, whispering and laughing to each other. They managed quite well at avoiding all detection and arrived back at their common room tired and full of food or, in Arthur's case, tea. Trudging up the stairs past the sleeping third year girl they stumbled back into their room, Alexander sitting right down on his bed and groaning.

"I need to learn to not trust my eyes when it comes to how much food I can eat."

"Too true," Terrence said, putting his basket of food on his trunk while he sat on his bed with the cakes plate.

Arthur sat down on his bed, taking off his shoes, and Tank flopped down on his back beside him.

"Aren't you glad we woke you up, Arthur?" Terrence asked.

"Of course, Mr. Longbottom. Who needs sleep when you can watch your friends gorge themselves on pie, cakes, and turkey sandwiches?"

Tank sat up and shoved Arthur to the side into his pillow. "Exactly, damn it."

They all laughed.