Out of all the magical events my parents used to drag me to, Weasley family reunions were always the most interesting. Once I got through the hugs and escaped the doting elderly people, I had a yearly opportunity to spend a good few hours with my favorite cousins. Uncle Arthur and Aunt Molly had seven children, and each, with the exception of Percy, was at least ten times as much fun as any of those bratty Muggle kids from back home. The youngest of the bunch, as well as the only girl in the family, was Ginny. She was only about two years my junior, and was usually the sibling that I spent the most time with. Next came Ron, a bit of an odd one out, who never seemed to like me much, so I did my best to annoy the bloody hell out of him. Then there were the twins, Fred and George, who were the most fun, as well as the most mischievous. More than once I joined forces with them to terrorize our younger, less fortunate cousins, as they often did to Percy, the next oldest brother. He was a complete killjoy, so I mainly avoided him. I could never forget who came next, my absolute favorite, Charlie. He was much older than me and had a bit of an obsession with dragons, but I loved him to bits. He was like the protective older brother I never had, which made the oldest brother, Bill, incredibly jealous. He just couldn't see why I, his adorable little cousin, preferred his own little brother over him. I don't even know myself, but to this day, in my eyes, there is no one who can compare to Charlie Weasley.
