Last updated: 17-4-2017

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Frugoldus Weasley 1932

"This is ridiculous!" Frugoldus exclaimed.

Lillian bowed over his shoulder in an attempt to read the paper, drying the dishes by hand. She was one of the few, possibly the only, pure-blood witch to ever do any housework by hand, but as she had never been good at household spells she had little choice. Her husband, dear Frug, was poor – in fact, the Weasleys might just be the poorest of all old wizarding families in Britain – so purchasing a House-Elf was out of the question. "What is?" she asked.

Frug laid his finger accusingly on a large advertisement for a book called The Pure-Blood Directory, which included a list of names, the Sacred Twenty-Eight. "This is! A list of the 'great, pure-blood families', of the so-called 'wizard nobility', and guess what? The Weasleys are on it! Right along the most Dark and corrupt names around: Black, Gaunt, Rosier, Fawley! –"

"The Minister is corrupt?" Lillian raised one eyebrow as her husband laid the paper down and turned to look at her with wide eyes.

"Of course he is!" the redhead exclaimed, "He jabbers and talks, turns up at every party, shakes hands with those of money and status, strews praise and promises at every occasion but hasn't achieved a single thing! Of course he is corrupt, all those shady wankers on there are!"

Lillian scowled and tutted her lips, whacking Frugoldus softly on the head. Not only the Weasley name was included in said list, her own family, Abbott, was on there as well. "My name is on that list too, Mr. Weasley! How do you dare to say your wife is shady and corrupt! Don't you think about it!"

Frugoldus rolled his eyes. "Of course not all of them are, but you do see my point, don't you?" His expression was almost pleading. "Only marrying each other, ordering the rest of the wizarding world around, all about money, status, getting heirs. They are nothing like us."

His wife smirked. "You do realise you have more male, pure-blood heirs than all the current Blacks together?"

"Lily!"

"Not to mention your old man Charles, who lived to ensure three generations of Weasleys kept the line pure and vital until giving the light," she glanced again at the article, "and he seems to have succeeded. Now tell me the old bat wouldn't have been proud to see you listed along the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black."

Frug groaned. He didn't need to be reminded of his great-grandfather, who'd pestered his son, grandson and even his great-grandsons about traditional pureblood marriages, right up until he died at the tender age of 120. Frugoldus was actually ashamed to admit that without Charles pushing him to propose an old family, Lillian would've never been his bride.

"He was my great-grandfather," he argued nonetheless, "he was born in the eighteenth century himself, he didn't know any better."

"You may have a point." Lillian conceded. She headed back to the sink. "But on a serious note, I think you can be proud of your name on that list, even if you don't care about these matters yourself. To the people who do care, it is a proof you're worth something, even if they're not impressed by your money, or your job."

It was silent.

"Goldie?"

"I'm going to make a complaint."

Her hands faltered, and then laid the last plate back in the water. She put them both on her hips, and spun around to scowl fiercely at her husband. "Goldie, you know I'm always with you in this, but this is taking it too far! Making a statement is one thing, openly refusing to admit your pureblood status a whole other! Think of your children! They might get something out of this list, you know it won't change their view on the matter, so why wouldn't you give them any advantage they can get! You want them to be successful, don't you?"

Despite being pure-blood himself – or maybe just because of his ancestry – Frugoldus had an unequalled hatred to many of the old, pompous pureblood traditions in which the richer families engaged. Lillian suspected it was because of the Weasleys' downfall in funds and status, and his current place as broom repairman for a small manufacturer, that he felt more at home with the simpler half-blood and Muggle-born families. But their father's beliefs should not stop her children from being proud of their lineage. They should be able to move up in the world if they wanted to, regardless of any prejudices of their age.

"Of course I want the children to be successful, but not because of their heritage!" Frugoldus exclaimed passionately, "I want them, I want us to be successful and show everyone that blood doesn't matter, that is what I want! I want those Blacks and Malfoys and – and – Rosiers! – to see that they are wrong, and that we, with our believes, can come just as far as them." Frugoldus didn't care whether his family was poor or rich, where house they lived in or what food they ate, as long as his children defied the distasteful yearning to grandeur that had taken over the wizarding world. They shouldn't be ashamed of their modest life, but embrace it, and hold it with pride.

Lillian and Frugoldus stared at each other hard, gazed determinedly in each other's eyes. Then, when neither would look away, Lillian couldn't hold in her smile anymore, setting off Frugoldus, and they both burst out in a series of half-restrained giggles, easing the fight out of them as if it had never been there in the first place.

Frug eyed her expression gently. "I'm going to do it anyway, whatever you will say. Our children are bright, I know it, if Septimus wouldn't go to Gryffindor he'd be in Ravenclaw. His chess-playing skills are marvellous, have you seen?"

"I still think you're being stupid, and you're wasting a chance." Lillian replied unerringly, finally finishing the dishes and sending them to the cupboard with a swipe of her wand. "And Septimus has been playing that game for years now, I can't believe you've only just taken notice?"

Frug grinned widely. "We Weasleys are born geniuses."

Lillian smirked. "Though you're a bit slow on the uptake yourself."

He frowned, and then laughed when Lillian laughed at their old gag. Lillian and he had four sons, Alrod, Septimus, George and Galieus. They were all brave, boisterous little Weasley boys, cheerful by default but surprisingly intelligent, a trait Lillian often claimed to have passed on them as Frugoldus in her opinion was far too thick.

Frugoldus was still angry at the author of that objectionable book, but always found it was easier to smile then to scowl. It made him a carefree lad, a characteristic he treasured, if he was true to himself. He didn't care about much, the only wish he had was for his children to live a happy life.

And, though poor and slighted, the Weasleys were happy. They lived in a modest, comfortable brick house near a quaint village called Lockerton, which had originally been built by Frugoldus' grandparents, Bilius and Emily Weasley, when they'd married and wanted a place for themselves. Close to it was Weasley Cottage, the Weasley's main family home for more than a century – ever since Lord Charles Galahad Weasley, Frug's ancieent and meddling great-grandfather, was forced to sell their ancestral 'Weasley Den'. When Charles Galahad had finally died, Frugoldus' parents – Lord Ragenald Weasley and his wife Morgen Ross – had moved there, and they lived there still, always open to a visit from any grandchildren who came in for a cup of cacao or a piece of advice.

Once, Frugoldus also had a younger brother named Carolus, who he'd always been very close to as there only had been two of them. Carolus had found a wife before Frugoldus had, and soon had a little son, Martin Galahad. Their family had lived in a small house near the seaside called White Cliff. Like Frugoldus liked tinkering with brooms, Carolus liked to experiment with potions, though seldom with success, and he had been trying to make a living out of his favourite occupation. However, not long after Frug's first son Alrod was born, a small potions accident had caused the entire house to explode, killing Carolus, his wife Sitha, the two-year-old Martin and the unborn baby still in Sitha's womb.

When the news reached Lockerton, Frugoldus and Lillian had been shattered by the loss of the young family. Frug had remembered Carolus had once jokingly told him he'd call the unborn baby Septimus, because he'd have been the seventh child in a row to be both a boy and redheaded. That was why, when that seventh child turned out to be a son of Frugoldus, Septimus' name was soon decided. He was named after the cousin that never would be born.

….

That year, the year The Pure-Blood Directory came out and the Head of the Weasley House openly deplored its content, was the year Septimus would join Hogwarts. Frugoldus told his boy that he would probably be in Gryffindor, as generations of Weasleys before him had, and insisted once more that whatever people would say, the list of the Sacred Twenty-Eight was a lot of bogus and pure-bloods were no better than other wizards, and Septimus should announce that message loud and clear to anyone who disagreed.

After that, little Septimus turned to his mother, who gave him a hug and a kiss and then said something that, unbeknownst to her, would split their universe from another, turn lives and events for the worse or the better, and that would even alter a war that determined the future for wizards and Muggles alike.

"Don't listen to him too much," she said, brushing a flaming red lock aside, "I think your father just has a grudge against those snobby, rich families, you know, like the Blacks and the Malfoys. But being a pure-blood is nothing to be ashamed of, on the contrary: being proud of your blood only means being proud of your ancestors, where you come from, and for them you have every reason to be proud. You're a clever boy, Septimus, so enjoy school and make the most of it." She smiled warmly at him. "Make us proud."