Fourteen-year-old Ron Weasley was dressed in plain black robes, the hem of which had already been let out several times. The stands, already crowded with spectators, were abuzz with excitement, but Ron, pacing the grounds some hundred feet away, was pensive and silent. His shaggy red hair was badly in need of a trim, and Ron brushed it impatiently out of the way as he turned, surprised, to regard his older brother. "Charlie?"
Charlie's breath almost caught in his throat. That gesture reminded him of something Bill would do, and Ron looked so much like him. When had ickle Ronniekins gotten so tall? Charlie wondered. His broad face split into an affable grin. "How ya doing, little brother?"
Ron blinked, neither walking away nor closing the gap between them. "Err.. all right, I s'pose."
"Hey, sit down; I want to talk to you." Ron looked at him suspiciously, and then settled on the ground next to Charlie. "Did you have time to wish Harry good luck?" Charlie watched his brother carefully; the sudden closed off look on Ron's face was all the confirmation he needed. "You two having a row?"
Ron scuffed a shoe in the dirt. "Harry's being a prat," he said rather defensively.
"Mmm." Charlie tried his best to sound noncommittal. "Do you know what the first rule of Seeking is?"
This mention of Quidditch seemed to rouse Ron, however briefly, from his gloom. "Err… remember to duck?"
Charlie laughed, remembering a particular game in his fourth year when he'd taken a bludger to the back of the head and spent the next three days in the hospital ward. "That's one of the top five, certainly. Actually, I was thinking of something more specific to Seekers. Did I ever tell you about my first game at Hogwarts?"
"What, about the part where you fell off?"
Charlie winced. "Before that."
Ron frowned, deep in thought. "Oh, right… you thought you saw the Snitch in the stands…"
"And it turned out to be the reflection off Adrastea Moon's glasses." Charlie finished. "I nearly got myself ploughed… and scared poor Adrastea half to death." He glanced thoughtfully at his youngest brother, who was still inspecting his shoes with an intensity he usually only exhibited at Cannons matches.
"You know, I don't think there's a Seeker who ever lived who didn't go swooping after glass or leprechaun gold a time or two." Charlie remarked carefully. "The flash is so golden and beautiful we're sweeping towards it before we even remember that a Snitch is supposed to have wings." He frowned, rubbing at his arm thoughtfully. "Not that that excuses my incredible stupidity of course. I thought Ethan was going was going to kill me. Turns out he nearly did; luckily for me, I was unconscious for most of the screaming." He paused. "Actually, Oliver reminds me a lot of him." The older Weasley grinned suddenly. "Quidditch captains are notorious for being a wee bit obsessive."
"Yeah, Harry says that…" Ron trailed off, a dark look on his face. "Never mind."
"Listen, Ron… why are you fighting with Harry?"
Ron scowled. "I told you…"
"Is it because of the Tri-Wizard Cup?" Charlie interrupted. Ron just stared at the ground. "Because if it is, Ron, I think you should know that Harry needs you now most of all."
"Harry's already got everything. He doesn't need me!"
"Do you think so?" Charlie said gently. When there was no response, he went ahead. "It certainly looks like it, doesn't it? He's rich, famous, and talented; his picture is in the Daily Prophet and the entire wizarding world knows his name. That sounds pretty good, doesn't it?" Ron didn't move, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed his conflicting emotions. Charlie sighed. "It's not real, Ron." Ron opened his mouth to protest, but Charlie cut him off. "It's not the Snitch. You have what Harry wants. Don't you see that he'd give it all up for just a glimpse of the real thing? All those millions of galleons, his Firebolt and his invisibility cloak, all for a day, an hour, a minute more with his parents?"
Charlie regarded his brother sympathetically. "Don't get lost in the glare, Ron. There's no reason to be jealous."
"I'm not…" Ron protested.
"Of course not." Charlie pulled out his pocket-watch and studied it carefully to cover a grin. "Better get back the stands, Ron. You wouldn't want to miss the first task."
Ron nodded jerkily and pushed himself up off the ground. "See you afterwards, then?"
Charlie nodded. "Of course." But something told him that Ron would be too busy to remember that promise later. He grinned. Heartfelt talks with your brother were all well and good, but there was nothing like a forty-foot dragon to remind you of your priorities.
-----
Author's Note: Those of you who are familiar with my work will notice that this fic contains significantly less angst than previous offerings. I'm anxious to know what you think of it, and, as always, appreciate reviews.