"Knock it off, Fred," I said to him as the amused redhead levitated the book I had just reached for, "I'm trying to read."
"Hey George," he said to his twin, "I think there is another set of twins at the Burrow, what with our cousin's love affair with books being so akin to that of Hermione's." They laughed, and I tried desperately hard not to join them. It was my third week at the Burrow, and the Weasleys had wasted no time in making me feel like family. We were, after all, related -Prewett, my name, is also my cousin Molly's maiden name.
The first few weeks at the Burrow were a little, okay, extremely overwhelming. With everything that living with pureblood wizards entailed: Apparition, levitating cookware, flying broomsticks, magic clocks, and the conversations between my magical relatives, I was almost out of my mind with bewilderment and curiosity. It was too much for me to handle, until Hermione arrived.
Hermione is a saint, I swear. On top of being friendly, and polite, and brilliant, she sat me down and explained everything she knew about the Wizarding world. Well, I'm sure she didn't tell me everything, I mean, there would never be enough time, but she had all of her old school books from her first five years sent to the Burrow for me to study. But the best part was just having someone around who wasn't born into this chaos –this wonderful chaos- besides me. It amazes me that someone born to muggles could be so brilliant in this field; it gave me hope for my future as a witch.
"Seriously, I'm trying to study," I said, a little annoyed, but mostly amused. My cousins were, spirited, to say the least. They treated me like a sister, as did all Molly and Arthur's children; it felt wonderful to have siblings and be a part of such a kind and generous family.
"Judging by the ink on your nose from studying your notes, we reckon it's time for a break," George said. "Come downstairs and have something to eat, we're all going for a ride later."
"'Come have something to eat'," I mimicked, "You sound like Molly." George scowled, and my stomach rumbled. "Well, I could use a snack, anyway. But as for riding—"
"Don't even argue," started Fred, "You'll use Ron's old broom, and Shooting Stars are really-"
"Slow," finished George, "You'll be fine. I swear we won't pretend to try to knock you off this time." I raised my arms in frustration, or submission, I'm not quite sure. I had developed a new fear of heights –flying at high speeds fifty feet above the ground was completely different than climbing the same height up into a tree that would never let you fall.
"Hey Ginny," I said as I ran up to our –her- room to change clothes for the ride, "The twins are dragging me out for a fly, you want to go watch me a make a fool out of myself?"
"Yeah, sure," she answered, "I'm almost done here." I glanced over at the desk she was sitting at next, she had just finished writing a letter and was signing her name.
"How's Dean?" I asked, guessing the addressee as I changed from cotton shorts to jeans. I sat down on my bed, slid my feet into sneakers, and tied my hair into a ponytail.
"Fine," she answered as we tramped downstairs to the kitchen, "He's excited to get back to school though -says his summer has been sort of a drag. His mom made him get a job at a muggle grocery store. 'Interesting but mostly mundane' is what he said." We found Ron and Harry sitting at the kitchen table playing Wizard chess -Harry was losing.
I enjoyed Harry's friendship, and looked forward to his company at school; I had some knowledge of his past, from the books Hermione had lent me, and from her and Harry's personal testimony, and I admit I was a little awed by him. I caught his eye and brought my thumb and pointer finger up to my forehead to simulate "loser". Harry smiled at me, and I turned to fish through the pantry for a snack.
With a handful of crackers and an apple I returned from the pantry. "Mundane, huh? That's a big word for Dean," I teased.
Ginny laughed, "Like you know!"
&&&
My flying lesson that afternoon was not as bad as the others had been. Ginny took over my coaching; instead of Fred and George, who merely teased and cajoled me into flying myself into trouble, Ginny instructed me to fly in circles, each one larger than the last, until I felt comfortable flying at a decent speed. I admit, though I could not bring myself to look anywhere but straight ahead, the feeling of the wind in my face and the strength of the broom beneath me reminded me of my afternoons lounging high up in Trek's bows, and I loved every minute of the ride.
Dinner that evening was quite comical as usual: Molly and Ginny's unregistered stiffness towards Fleur and her unrelenting cheerfulness, Hermione and Ron's verbal jousts, Arthur's enthusiastic questions about the muggle world and Harry's amusing answers ("Well, the light goes out when you shut the refrigerator door..."), and Fred and George -need I say more?
After dinner I dragged myself upstairs for more studying, my echoing footsteps signaling Hermione's regular "Yell if you need me", and sighed at the thought of all the work I had left to do before I went to bed. I had read several books on magical history and theory already, including Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard -on said book Hermione commented, "It's the most pointless and irritating book I've ever read. Wanted to burn it, but it's still a book." She finished her bitter rave with a quick mumbled detriment towards someone named Delores Umbridge, one which I will not repeat.
I plopped down onto my bed and flipped through to the page I had book-marked in The Standard Book of Spells, Grade One. I had already read the whole book, but even the simplest of spells fascinated me. "Wingardium Leviosa," I read, "With just a flick of your wand you can levitate any object for as long as eye contact is held and concentration remains unfaltering…" This must have been the spell Fred used on my books earlier, I thought, Can't be that difficult.
I looked up from the book and gazed around the bedroom for a target: Ginny had cleared her desk after finishing Dean's letter but for a small green ceramic vase full of dried roses. "As long as eye contact is held" -I stared at the vase- "And concentration remains unfaltering..."I repeated the spell silently and smiled at the absurdity of this operation; there was no way I could work a spell with my untutored mind, especially sans wand. But what was the harm in curiosity?
I extended my right hand to open air, grasped an imaginary wand, and gave it a flick as I said, "Wingardium leviosa." Ginny's vase shot up in the air like a rocket, hit the ceiling, and shattered with a loud crash. I yanked the book over my head to protect myself as the shards of vase and flowers fell. When the last piece finally clinked onto the bedspread, I stared at my wandless hand, and then at the destructive result of my curiosity and yelled, "Hermione!"