Disclaimer: It's not mine, not one knut of it.

RW-RW-RW

It was his. All his.

In the smallest bedroom of the smallest house outside the small village of Ottery St. Catchpole, seven-year-old Ron Weasley stared at the five Knuts he held carefully in his hands. Outside the door, his parents spoke in hushed voices.

"…not a Knut in the house. I don't know what to do!"

"It's alright Molly, she'll understand."

"But she shouldn't have to, Arthur! She's only six, she should be allowed to believe in things like tooth faeries."

"Now now dear, don't get yourself worked up. You know that if we could…"

His parents moved off downstairs, their voices gradually fading away.

Ron bit his lip and looked over to where Ginny lay sleeping. Her tooth sat on the windowsill, waiting to be scooped up a non-existent faery.

He looked down at his tiny fortune. The star-cut centres winked back at him, the rewards of a summer's work at the Strawberry Farm in the village.

He looked down at his tiny fortune. The star-cut centres winked back at him, the rewards of a summer's work at the strawberry farm in the village.

There was no real decision to make, Ron realised. Quietly as he could cross the squeaky floorboards, he crept to his sister's bedside. He stacked all five coins neatly beside her pillow and reached up reverently to take the tooth.

Clutching it tightly, he slipped back between washed out orange bed sheets and smiled. He would never be as special to her as Bill was, he knew that, but he was going to put up a bloody good fight.