Disclaimer: I don't own HP, nor do I have a biscuit jar like this. *sighs*

A Biscuit Jar full of Memories

Ron's Birthday Challenge

Age 5

Ron woke up to the smell of biscuits being baked. Jumping out of bed, he bounded down the stairs, screaming, "Today's my birthday! Today's my birthday!" He skidded into the kitchen, running into his brother George as he did so.

"Hey, squirt, what's your hurry?" Fred laughed, picking up Ron and swinging him around.

"It's my birthday!" shrieked Ron, giggling.

"No kidding!" exclaimed George, "You didn't tell us that!"

"Maybe just once-" started Fred.

"-a second-" continued George.

"-for weeks!" cut in little sister Ginny, hyper and wide awake at age four.

Fred and George nodded at each other, "We have taught her well."

"Now boys," said Mrs. Weasley, "be nice to Ron. It is his birthday, after all. Maybe, if you're nice, he'll share his biscuits with you."

Ron grinned, shouting, "Biscuits?"

Smiling, Mrs. Weasley guided him to a seat at the table. There, before him, sat an enormous biscuit jar. He stood on his chair and opened the lid of the jar. The smell of cinnamon wafted over him as he stared down at the largest amassment of snickerdoodles he had ever seen.

He announced, "I'm going to be nice and share my biscuits with everyone!"

And so they all feasted upon the biscuits.

After they had eaten, Mr. Weasley took the remaining biscuits out of the jar and put them into a smaller container. He then helped Ron carry his new jar out to the living room so he could play with it. Unfortunately, when Ron took it from his father, insisting that he could carry it himself, he tripped and it smashed.

"Oh, no problem," assured Mr. Weasley, "we can fix it."

However, he didn't even have time to take out his wand. For Ron had poked one of the pieces of it with his toe, upset that his lovely new jar had broken. In an instant, the jar was back to its old self; Ron was delighted, as was his father.

"Molly!" Mr. Weasley called, "Ron's a wizard! He did magic!"

And there was a grand celebration.

Age 11

Ron woke up and yawned, stretching. He hoped that he would get his Hogwarts letter this summer, now that he was eleven. He grinned suddenly. He was eleven. Today was his birthday. And for the Weasley family, that meant tradition.

Each family member had their own tradition, which started at the age of five. For Ron, it meant that he got to run downstairs, have biscuits for breakfast, and open his biscuit jar. There was a different surprise inside his jar every year, and he couldn't wait to see what it was this time around.

He rushed into his clothes and down the stairs. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, along with Ginny, were sitting at the table, waiting for him. Upon his arrival, they began to sing the Weasley version of "Happy Birthday":

"Hippo birdies two ewes,

Hippo birdies two ewes,

Hippo birdies,

Ickle Ronniekins,

Hippo birdies two ewes!"

Ron clapped when they had finished. This was going to be a great birthday, from the looks of it. He sat down at the table, grinning as the snickerdoodles were set out. They feasted upon these, along with the pear preserves brought out for the occasion.

After breakfast, Mr. Weasley announced, "I believe that it is time for you to open you biscuit jar, Ron!" He set it on the table, grinning at his youngest son.

Ron eagerly lifted the lid of the biscuit jar, to find it filled with strips of parchment and a pie. He temporarily ignored the parchment and went straight for the pie, grinning and shouting his thanks- cinnamon pear pie was his favorite dish.

"Pick a piece of parchment, Ron!" urged Ginny, sounding excited, "It'll show your fortune for the coming year!"

"Really?"

Mrs. Weasley nodded, "It's a family tradition that when you turn eleven, you pick a fortune for the coming year. It's usually quite accurate."

"Here goes nothing," said Ron, plunging his hand into the sea of parchment. He felt his way through them, and closed his fingers around the one that seemed the friendliest. He withdrew his hand and unfolded the piece of parchment. It read: In this coming year, you will face hardship, enjoy happiness, and find your ever-love in the form of a friend.

Ron blinked. "Please tell me that this is a joke. Somebody- anybody- please tell me this is a joke!"

"What did you get?" asked Mrs. Weasley, curious and now slightly worried. Ron showed her the fortune as the other parchment pieces were cleared away. "Well, Ronnie, if you're worried, remember: it's not always accurate, only usually." Inside, she was glad that her son had gotten a fortune like that; she herself had gotten one reading: In this coming year, you will swallow thirty-seven flies. Unfortunately, hers had been horribly accurate.

Ron put the fortune from his mind and had an excellent birthday.

Age 22

Ron woke up and stretched luxuriously. Rolling over, he put his arms out to hug Hermione, his wife, but found that she was not there. He sat up, rubbing his eyes and grabbing his wand and wedding ring off the side table. A moment later, the smell of snickerdoodles filled his nostrils. He jumped out of bed and pulled on his dressing gown to investigate.

He found Hermione in the kitchen, with a plate of snickerdoodles sitting on the table- right next to his biscuit jar. He did a double-take when he saw this; how had she gotten his biscuit jar?

Hermione grinned when she saw him enter, and walked up to him to give him his good morning kiss. When they broke apart, she said, "Happy Birthday! I'm guessing you're wondering how your biscuit jar got here?"

"Er- yeah. And how did you know about the snickerdoodles?"

Hermione laughed, "I asked your Mum if you guys had birthday traditions. She told me all about the biscuit jar, the snickerdoodles, and what is supposed to happen for this year."

"Blimey, Hermione, you're incredible."

Smiling again, Hermione beckoned him over to the table, where they feasted upon the snickerdoodles. She admitted that it had taken her a rather long time to get the hang of them; she had wanted to make them the way Mrs. Weasley always had. Ron assured her that she had done a great job, and then ate most of them.

"Now," said Hermione when they had finished, "I believe that it's time for you to open your biscuit jar."

Ron, grinning the same way he did when he was five, took off the lid of the biscuit jar. His smile grew even wider when he saw what was inside.

"Pictures." He hugged Hermione. "Thank you."

"Well, it wasn't all me," she admitted, "it was really a joint effort from everyone. If you look carefully, you'll see that each picture represents an event, from your birth to Hogwarts to now."

Ron stuck his hand into the paper, pulling out the one that felt most friendly in his hand. When he saw it, he laughed aloud, for he had run out of room on his face for his grin.

It was a collage, fitted into the space of one photograph, of all of his life. There were images of his birth to his first magic, from his vacation by the sea to his Hogwarts letter, from first year to the battle, from the rebuilding of Hogwarts to now.

"You know, Hermione," Ron said, pulling her in for a kiss, "this isn't just a biscuit jar."

She raised her eyebrows, inviting him to continue.

"It's a biscuit jar full of memories- and biscuit crumbs!"

She laughed as she kissed him, "Happy Birthday, Ron."

An hour or so later, they headed off to the Burrow for the family celebration, in the same way that they would for every birthday for the rest of their lives.

The Ever-Lovin' End!
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