Disclaimer: not mine. Never will be.
Summary: The title kinda gives it away, but it's not what you think really, it's 100% original.
A/n: I gotts give some credit to fyrie (sp?) who, I think, wrote the eighth weasley, which inspired me to write this.
A/n 2: If you read the summery on my profile for this, there was a typo, Ginny is in her 6th year.
A/n 3: I decided to make Percy a likeable bastard.
They don't know. Why don't I tell them? What they don't know can't hurt them, no matter how much it hurts me. I'm not even supposed to know, but I remember. My own family actually forgot about me. Shows how special I am. But it doesn't surprise me that my family doesn't remember; a lot of memory-blockers were placed on them. I'm not talking about my Sunnydale family; I'm talking about my real family. The family in England. That's right, me, teaser-of-Giles, is British. No matter how hard I try I can't forget. I should probably go back to the beginning.
~*~FLASHBACK~*~
"Mum, Fred and George took my favorite stuffed animal again!" the youngest Weasley yelled, chasing her older brothers through the house.
"Well, dear, what do you expect me to do about it?" her mother said. "You're going to have to start fending for yourself. Really, look how old you've gotten! Nearly a whole five years old already!" By now the whole family was in the kitchen.
"But-" the little girl was abruptly cut off ass the front door flew open to reveal hooded figures with white masks. They were all stupefied before they could react.
"Which one?" one of the intruders asked.
"One of the twin girls!" the leader said, loudly.
~*~ENDFLASHBACK~*~
After that, they took me and placed me with a family in California, America. I didn't remember any of my old life until I was 11. Since then, I've been studying magic - and not just the wand magic the rest of my family uses. Wicca, Celtic magic, Buddhism, just to name a few.
I'm 15 now, and doing the best I can to rid the world of evil. I get little satisfaction from killing demons and vampires, stopping apocalypses, or is that apocoli? We never did figure that out. The reason I don't get much satisfaction? Simple. I'm virtually incapable of feeling, mostly because almost all of my being, heart, soul, body, and mind, is set on revenge.
Revenge on who? Why, Lord Voldemort himself, Luscious Malfoy, all the other Death Eaters. Why? Because they took my family away from me. I miss being the baby of a family. Strangely enough, I miss Percy the most. I don't know why, but I was the only person who he was truly nice to. As far as anyone else was concerned, he's a stuck-up asshole, but with me. I don't know how to explain it. Being the runt of the litter, I always had a lot to live up to. What, with Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny al older than me, a lot was expected of me.
My Sunnydale family will be furious with me, but I won't be here to get yelled at. Why? This summer, in two days to be exact, I'm running away. Though, I guess I should call it going home, because that's what I'm doing. I'm going to England, and I'll be damned if I don't at least speak with Professor Dumbledoor.
Oops, there's the bell, gotta go to lunch, then there's a Scooby meeting during free.
Please r and r!
Summary: The title kinda gives it away, but it's not what you think really, it's 100% original.
A/n: I gotts give some credit to fyrie (sp?) who, I think, wrote the eighth weasley, which inspired me to write this.
A/n 2: If you read the summery on my profile for this, there was a typo, Ginny is in her 6th year.
A/n 3: I decided to make Percy a likeable bastard.
They don't know. Why don't I tell them? What they don't know can't hurt them, no matter how much it hurts me. I'm not even supposed to know, but I remember. My own family actually forgot about me. Shows how special I am. But it doesn't surprise me that my family doesn't remember; a lot of memory-blockers were placed on them. I'm not talking about my Sunnydale family; I'm talking about my real family. The family in England. That's right, me, teaser-of-Giles, is British. No matter how hard I try I can't forget. I should probably go back to the beginning.
~*~FLASHBACK~*~
"Mum, Fred and George took my favorite stuffed animal again!" the youngest Weasley yelled, chasing her older brothers through the house.
"Well, dear, what do you expect me to do about it?" her mother said. "You're going to have to start fending for yourself. Really, look how old you've gotten! Nearly a whole five years old already!" By now the whole family was in the kitchen.
"But-" the little girl was abruptly cut off ass the front door flew open to reveal hooded figures with white masks. They were all stupefied before they could react.
"Which one?" one of the intruders asked.
"One of the twin girls!" the leader said, loudly.
~*~ENDFLASHBACK~*~
After that, they took me and placed me with a family in California, America. I didn't remember any of my old life until I was 11. Since then, I've been studying magic - and not just the wand magic the rest of my family uses. Wicca, Celtic magic, Buddhism, just to name a few.
I'm 15 now, and doing the best I can to rid the world of evil. I get little satisfaction from killing demons and vampires, stopping apocalypses, or is that apocoli? We never did figure that out. The reason I don't get much satisfaction? Simple. I'm virtually incapable of feeling, mostly because almost all of my being, heart, soul, body, and mind, is set on revenge.
Revenge on who? Why, Lord Voldemort himself, Luscious Malfoy, all the other Death Eaters. Why? Because they took my family away from me. I miss being the baby of a family. Strangely enough, I miss Percy the most. I don't know why, but I was the only person who he was truly nice to. As far as anyone else was concerned, he's a stuck-up asshole, but with me. I don't know how to explain it. Being the runt of the litter, I always had a lot to live up to. What, with Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny al older than me, a lot was expected of me.
My Sunnydale family will be furious with me, but I won't be here to get yelled at. Why? This summer, in two days to be exact, I'm running away. Though, I guess I should call it going home, because that's what I'm doing. I'm going to England, and I'll be damned if I don't at least speak with Professor Dumbledoor.
Oops, there's the bell, gotta go to lunch, then there's a Scooby meeting during free.
Please r and r!