Written for Round 8 of the QLFC. Tornadoes...five rounds to go. Five rounds to make our total as high as possible.
(Prompts detailed at the bottom.)
Dear Diary,
My name is Fred Weasley, and I am my own person.
At least, that's what everyone says. You're unique. Be yourself. You can be whoever you want.
Well, if they really wanted me to be me, perhaps they shouldn't have named me after Fred Weasley.
Fred Weasley the first, that is. My Uncle Fred. He died in the Battle of Hogwarts. A big war hero and all that. My dad, Uncle Fred's twin, named me after him.
That's all well and good. My dad wanted to honor his dead twin. Right?
I wish that was all it was.
Dear Diary,
Dad says that diaries are for girls. He says that my Uncle Fred would never write in a diary, no matter what.
I can only assume he was implying that, just like my namesake, I shouldn't have a diary.
Well, that's great! Thanks, Dad. Should I drop everything and start acting like your dead twin?
I don't even look like Uncle Fred. Roxanne and I both have dark hair, like Mum. We both have a complexion much darker than Uncle Fred or Dad. According to Aunt Hermione's Muggle genetics book, there was no way we could have gotten anything remotely Weasley-like, because Mum doesn't have red hair, freckles, pale skin, or any other Weasley trait in her ancestry.
Only, Roxanne doesn't have anyone mentioning how different she looks from her namesake, because she wasn't named after anyone. Mum got to name her, because Dad named me. I don't think she realizes how lucky she is that no one is comparing her to anyone.
It's extremely uncomfortable when, out of nowhere, a member of Dumbledore's Army walks up to me and tells Dad, "He looks nothing like Fred!" And they're always disappointed, or sad, or confused when they add, "This is Fred, right?"
I'm sorry, Dumbledore's Army. I didn't realize I had to look like a Weasley replica for you to appreciate me.
Dear Diary,
Have I ever told you about my favorite color? It's periwinkle, if you didn't know. A nice color choice, don't you think?
Apparently no one else seemed to think so.
"My favorite color is periwinkle," I announced one day at dinner.
Dad stared at me. Mum blinked, putting her fork down.
"What's periwinkle?" Roxanne asked, swinging her feet wildly under the table.
"It's a kind of light blue." I explained. "Like the Christmas sweater Grandma Weasley makes for Louis."
"Your Uncle Fred liked magenta," Dad said, staring past me. "It's why the uniform of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes is that color."
I wrinkled my nose. "Magenta's a gross color."
Dad gaped at me. "You – I – what?"
"That's nice, Fred," Mum said, elbowing Dad. I saw her frown at her plate, as if I had let her down.
"You – you sure you don't like magenta?" Dad asked, as if double-checking.
"He already said he hates it, Dad," Roxanne rolled her eyes.
"I – right." Dad shook his head, getting rid of whatever he'd been thinking. He looked at me again, and I could see the disappointment in his eyes.
Dear Diary,
I got my very own owl today. I found him in a double cage, rooming with his dad. He has brown feathers and a patch of white feathers on his head. His dad was completely covered in black feathers. He was stuck there with his dad, and I could tell he didn't appreciate it one bit.
The lady at the counter said that they had expected the owl to be just like his father, but he turned out to be practically the opposite. Instead of prideful, he was quiet and obedient.
I guess I kind of related to the poor guy's situation, so I bought him. I named him Junior. We're both mini versions of someone we don't want anything to do with.
Junior's a good owl. And now he can be whoever he wants to be, without familial influence.
Dear Diary,
Aunt Ginny once told me, "Sometimes it's the smallest decisions that can change your life forever."
I think she's right. All the small things, that should have been inconsequential, have snowballed into big decisions.
I'm not who everyone thought I would be. I don't get along with James Sirius, despite everyone thinking that we would be the closest of friends. I'm in Ravenclaw, of all places. I would rather read books with Rose and Louis than go to Hogsmeade. And when I did go to Hogsmeade, instead of going to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes (it replaced Zonko's a couple years ago – everyone was expecting it), I instead chose to visit the small bookstore a few doors down.
On the rare days that Dad's checkups coincided with a Hogsmeade visit, I could sometimes see him watching me walk into the bookstore, with an expression that might be attributed to someone who has just lost a loved one. I see it on his face when we visit Uncle Fred's grave, twice a year.
No one was more shocked that I was a Ravenclaw than Dad. Mum saw it coming. So did most of the other Weasleys and Potters.
Roxanne didn't particularly care. When Roxanne doesn't care, she either cares very much or she's trying to make a point. I suspect it's the latter, especially when she stated this with a pointed look at Mum and Dad.
I'm glad Roxanne and our cousins have never met Uncle Fred. I bet they'd be comparing me to him every chance they got if they did.
Dear Diary,
Maybe there was a reason I wasn't put in Gryffindor. After all, I can't bring myself to confront my dad and everyone else about how they want me to be Fred, the first, rather than Fred, the second.
But the distance might have helped. I spend most of the year in Hogwarts, where it's just me, my classmates, my sister, and my cousins. And none of them ever knew Dad's twin.
Not all the teachers are the same ones Dad and Uncle Fred had, and it isn't as if they notice me all that much. Just once while checking to see if all the students are in class, and once or twice if they see me performing well. They aren't particularly close to the students, so their opinions don't really affect me. Although I wish Professor Flitwick would stop giving me expectant looks.
I like it in Hogwarts. I spend most of the time with Rose and Louis, hanging out by the Lake or in the library. And of course the Weasley-Potter Clan gets together to play Quidditch every once in a while, and we get a few new people to join us each time. All anyone cares about during those gatherings is Quidditch, and it is our mutual love for Quidditch keeps us together, despite all the drama that comes with a large family.
I'm not the best Quidditch player, but I still like to play. I prefer Keeper or Chaser, like Rose. Louis likes Beater. Dad is disappointed that I prefer Keeper and Chaser over Beater, along with my lack of Quidditch skills, but no one here really cares.
It's my fifth year. I've been going home every break for the past four years. I would never say it out loud, but I like it more at Hogwarts than at home. I don't want to come home for Christmas break.
I didn't need to say very much for Rose to understand. I told her I wanted to stay for Christmas break, and she got this look in her eye that said she knew what was going on. Louis looked a bit lost but a few meaningful looks from Rose got him on the right track.
They were quick to support me, and even offered to stay with me. I know Louis is in loads of trouble with his parents for some obscure thing that he refused to tell us about, so I said he could stay if he wanted. I declined Rose's offer for some time, but then she told me about the arguments she'd been getting in with her Mum.
Bookworm, library-lover Rose, who somehow managed to become next in line for Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain as a fourth year, wanted to be a Quidditch star like Aunt Ginny. While her dad, Uncle Ron, supported this idea, Aunt Hermione didn't consider it a steady job and refused to let Rose follow the career path. I was so shocked I agreed to let her stay too.
Now I've got to write a letter to Mum and Dad. Rose already sent hers, and Louis was sending the message through his sisters (who both rolled their eyes before agreeing – clearly they knew what kind of trouble Louis was in). If those two can say no to tradition despite the trouble brewing in their families, it shouldn't be hard at all for me to turn down the default invitation as well.
So, Diary, here goes. 'Sometimes it's the smallest decisions that can change your life forever', after all.
Yours truly,
Fred Weasley
P.S. No, I'm the son of George Weasley, not his twin. Fred Weasley the second.
Team: Tutshill Tornadoes
Position: Beater 1
Round Prompt: Fred Weasley II
Word Count: 1,597 words (excluding Author's Notes)
Prompts Used:
Prompt 2: (quote) 'Sometimes it's the smallest decisions that can change your life forever' - Keri Russell
Prompt 9: (colour) periwinkle
Prompt 15: (creature) owl
A/N: People usually peg Fred Weasley II as someone just like the first Fred, or at least like George. Well, I'm here to break what I like to call the 'name stereotyping'. Hope you enjoyed. I've never done diary format before.
