Family:

My family has always been the backbone of my life. I treasure them above all others and have almost always put their wants and needs before my own. This in no way means that we lived some sort of idyllic life with few fights and fewer worries. Quite the opposite is true. I have a fiery temper and a short fuse which means that most of my childhood was spent yelling at one brother or the other. Still the bonds between me and my family are some of the strongest in my life.

Mother:

My Mother and I never got on well. I was the daughter she always wanted, a little girl to dress up and play with, but I would have none of it. From the very start I was my own person and that person was not interested in frilly robes or pretty dresses. I never wanted to play dolly and was much more at home on a broom then I ever was in the kitchen.

I am not saying that she did not love and treasure me, because she did. I am only saying that the two of us were forever at odds with each other. In spite of that, I have always felt a close bond with my Mother. No matter how many fights or how often tears were shed, she was always there for me when I needed her.

My first memory of my Mother is, ironically, of her not being there. I was young, three or four, and had wandered away from the rest of the family on a trip to the beach. I remember that I was so lost and afraid; my whole body was trembling, when I was found by a muggle boy.

He smiled at me and asked me my name but I was too upset to answer. Instead, I burst out crying and wailed that I wanted my Mummy. He was frightened by me and ran away. I sank to the sandy ground and hugged myself while the tears continued to streak down my face. I don't know how long I sat there like that but the sun had started to dip below the sea when the little boy came back dragging his parents behind him.

The woman had long black hair and an ample bosom which I buried my face in while she and her husband searched for my family. The woman asked me what my Mother looked like and I told her. Mummy had short red hair that stuck out at all angles, her robes were patched and darned and her skin smelled like lemon polish. She was comfortable to cuddle with and always kept Every Flavor Beans in her apron pocket. I know that I said this only because the woman found it funny and told my parents when they finally found them. My parents in turn have told the rest of us so many times that it has become some what of a family joke.

When I was reunited with my family I clung to my Mother as though letting go of her leg would be the death of me. I remember that she was wearing a bagging yellow and green striped bathing suit and her hair was stuffed up under a swim cap. She had on a large floppy hat, a pair of neon green slippers, and a purple beach towel wrapped around her waist. Whenever I am frighten or scared I picture my Mother as she was that day and suddenly things are not so bad.

M: My first memory of you? That would have to be the first time I felt you move. I was four months along and had just found out that you were the little girl I so badly wanted. I was in a store buying outfits for you when suddenly I felt something brushing against my skin. At first I thought that a piece of fabric had done it but then it came again and I realized that the sensation was coming from inside of my stomach.

I can still remember how your movement felt. It was like butterflies tickling on the inside and a like a ball on the outside. I put my hand over where you were and pressed down slightly. You responded by pushing against my hand and laughter bubbled out of me. The other women in the shop looked at me as if I was insane and all I could do was smile widely at them.

I know that you think I was disappointed by you Ginny, but you couldn't be more wrong. I have loved you from the second you were conceived and nothing you have done has made me anything but proud. I know there were times when I doubted the sense of what you were doing, but looking back on the life you have lived I can honestly say that that the ones that counted were wise ones.

I have one more thing to say. I am old. Who knows how much longer I have left? But, I cannot leave this life without clearing something up. I took your divorce badly. I was cruel to you when you needed understanding and I refused to let you cry on my shoulder when the pressure of the break up finally got to you. I cannot tell you how much I regret that. I know there was a long time when the two of us did not speak and the years we lost eat at me daily.

I wish I had the courage to say this to you sooner sweetie, but better late than never, right? Well here it is: You were right. Harry was all wrong for you. If you had stayed with him your life would have been empty of all the things I wanted for you. And when you married Draco, you were right again. As much as I hate to admit it, that boy was everything you needed. I am so very happy that you found him and spent you life with him. For all he is a Malfoy.

Father:

In my memory of my childhood, my Father is a giant. He stood head and shoulders above even my eldest brothers and could swing me high into the air with just one arm. He had curly red hair on his arms that I pulled at and a laugh that bellowed through the house. His eyes were always sparkling and his face always held a smile. In short, he is nothing like the man the rest of the world knows.

I love my Father the way every girl does. A pat on the head produced an unending sort of happiness which bubbled inside of me like water over a hot stove. If he was pleased with something I did, I would blush and bask in his pride. If I did something that made him look at me with sadness in his eyes, I would cry and promise to never be naughty again.

My first memory of my father is from when I was four. He had just come home from work and had a pocket full of sweets for me. He lifted me way up high and kissed my nose before setting me on his shoulders and taking me outside. He had confiscated a talking telephone earlier that day and had brought it home as gift to me.

I remember how he smiled down at me as he went on and on about what a telephone was and how muggles used them. Then he went inside and left me to play. Ron came outside and gave me a nasty look when he realized that the toy was for me. He yanked on one of my braids, called me a baby and made me cry. I ran into the house and sobbed into my Father's shoulder while he patted my back. He carried me outside and forced Ron to apologize. I remember sticking my tongue out at him from behind my Father's back and that he got a spanking when he got caught doing the same.

F: That would have to be right after your Mother gave birth to you. You were wrapped in a pink blanket and had a soft patch of red curls on your head. Your eyes were closed as you slept in your Mother's arms and I felt an amount of love that no one can understand until they have a child of their own.

You were so beautiful Ginny. My little girl was tiny and wrinkled and smelt like new baby. I held you in my arms while I rocked you and knew then that I would never be able to deny you anything. I remember kissing your head and touching your hair so very gently while you rooted into my chest. Thinking about it now makes this old man feel young again.

I never would have thought my little girl would grow up to be such an important woman. I know you have lived a happy and full life but there are things in your history that I wish I could have saved you from. If I could do things differently I wouldn't, but that does not mean that I do not feel my fair share of guilt of the horrible things that being my daughter exposed you to.

Bill:

My brother Bill died when I was sixteen years old. I cannot express how much that shaped my final teenage years. I was very close with him and adored everything that he did. He was so tall and dashing with his long hair and earring. I thought he was the coolest man alive and was incredibly proud that he was my older brother.

With Bill, I am not going to share my first memory. Instead, I will relate my last.

It was the middle of the night in August, just two days before the downfall of the self named Lord Voldemort. I had been sleeping in my room when a loud banging woke me. I heard raised voices and the sound of many feet tramping down the narrow hall outside of my door.

When I peeked my head out, I saw members of the Order running about like mad; knocking on doors and rousing those lucky few who managed to sleep through the ruckus. I overheard whispers about a final attack and that all the able bodied fighters were to report to Moody. I pulled back into my room and quickly dressed. I knew that the likelihood of my joining in the fray was slight, but I wanted to be on hand just in case I was needed.

When I returned to the hallway it was jammed with people in the same sort of hasty dress as I. I felt a cold fear flow through me as I watched two of my brothers go down the stairs and become part of the group huddled about Moody. I leaned over the railing quickly counting the number below.

There were thirty men and women milling about with frightened looks on their faces. To the left of them were ten of the children of the freedom fighters. My Mother stood watch over them as Fluer cared for five others gathered to the right. Everyone was speaking at once and the tension was thick enough to cut.

Finally, Harry Apparated and the noisy room hushed. Even the babies seemed to realize the importance of the moment. His face was smeared with soot and his eyes blazed with an inner fire. My whole being was filled with the sight of him, so much so that I missed the man standing in his shadow until someone hissed out 'Malfoy' and the focus of the room shifted to him.

In a blink the next three hours were gone and every person in the room knew exactly what would be expected of them in the battle to come. By this time I was no longer standing peering over the rail, but had moved closer to the wall and was hunched over the top step. I was still sitting there twenty minutes later when all but my brother Bill, his wife and two children were left below.

I am not sure that I was meant to see his farewell to his family but from where I was at the top of the stairwell I witnessed it anyway.

He pulled them to him and held Fleur as she cried onto his shoulder. He kept saying 'I love you' over and over while rubbing her back and holding his children close. Dania was slightly older than one and little Willy was not yet two months old, but as young as they were they still seemed to realize what was happening.

The little family stood there for a long moment clutching to one another before Tonks called out that it was time to go. Then Bill stepped away from their arms and walked without a backward glance to the fight that would kill him.

B: Ginny you are ten years old, what on Earth makes you want to write a memoir? Yes, I understand that someday you will be grown up and that you would like to have all your ducks in a row before that happens, but don't you think you have enough time to plan everything out?

I can see this is important to you so I will concede the point.

My first memory of you would have to be when you said your first word. Look at you blush! I fail to see why you are so embarrassed by it. I am sure that lots of girls say Quidditch before anything else. Or at least they would if they had grown up in our family.

I remember cooing over you when all my teaching finally paid off and proudly marching you up to Mother to show you off. She smiled at you and patted you on the head and then sent me a venom filled look. She told me I was in no way to teach you to play 'that vile game' and that I had better not fill your head up with such nonsense. I thought it was perfectly horrid of her to have said such a thing and I did not let it stop me a bit. It is all thanks to me that you are the wonderful chaser that you are.

Charlie:

Charlie was the brother I loved to tease. His temperament was mild and slow to anger which made him the best of all my siblings when it came to putting up with the pranks I pulled. He was gone a lot of my life chasing after the dragons he so loved but he still played a large role in shaping who I am today.

Charlie is like a bright light. Whenever he is around he attracts people to him. His easy smile and fun loving attitude have long been traits that I admire. All his life he knew the sort of man he wanted to be. He had his whole life planned out by the time he was ten and I am sure that if there had never been a Voldemort he would have lived it that way. But you cannot predict the future and his involvement with the Order did more than win him an Order of Merlin, first class.

After the war ended and he recovered from his injuries Charlie settled into a quiet, dragon free existence. He said that he had had enough adventure for one life time, thank you, and he certainly wasn't going to break what was left of his Mother's heart trying to recapture his youth.

My strongest memory of Charlie is of him braiding my hair for my first day of primary school. I was nervous and had slunk into the backyard to fret. Mother had sent him to fetch me so that Ron and I would not be late. When he found me hiding behind the overgrown rose bushes, he calmed my fears by singing silly songs while brushing, then braiding my hair.

He kissed my little cheeks and called me the prettiest witch alive. Then he held my hand as we flooed and walked me to the school. Charlie made me swear to remember everything I did during the day so that I could give him a full accounting when I came home. Then he promised to be waiting at the fireplace for me and gave my head a pat before walking back home.

All day I tried to fix each and every thing that had occurred into my memory. I repeated events over and over in my brain until each stood clear. I memorized the names of all my classmates as well as the slight family background they introduced themselves with. At the last bell I was first in line to floo home and ran out of the fireplace, straight into his arms.

C: Tell you my first memory of you Red? What could my foggy memories of you have to do with anything? Don't glare at me so girl! You were always so quick to temper. Let me think for a moment.

Ah! I don't know if it the first one I have of you sweets but this is the one that comes to mind. It was a rainy day sometime in your third year of life.

You were wet, your ever present pigtails dripping water on the carpet. You were in a dither about something Ron had said and your cheeks had taken on a fiery glow. The two of you were standing toe to toe and you were screaming at the top of your lungs for him to take it back. I remember he laughed at you and called you a silly little girl.

You turned so red that I thought you would pass out and then you launched yourself at him. He was taken completely by surprise and toppled over the instant your body hit his. You somehow managed to pin him down and started torturing him by kissing his face while he begged you to let him up.

The rest of the family came running to see what the fuss was about and Percy quickly pulled you off of him. He started lecturing me about the role of a big brother and I did not pay him an ounce of mind. I was laughing hysterically by then and nothing short of Mother's patented glare could have reigned me in.

Goodness Red, when did you learn to give that look? I swear you would give Mum a run for her money with that one sweetie. You have no one to blame but yourself if you don't like that memory Sis. You're the one who asked me to tell it.

Percy:

Percy has always lived his life according to the book. He never stepped a toe out of line or said anything off color. As a result he lived a perfectly boring life with the wife, the kids and the dog. He did well in his job, reached the pay grade he wanted and then spent the remaining years working in the Ministry to maintain it.

His house was always spotless and his children well bred. His wife was the sort of perfect housekeeper I envied while married to Harry and pitied while married to Draco. I have never felt like I am up to snuff around him and so it is no wonder that my first memory of him is one in which he was reporting my misdeeds to our Mother.

I was five years old and always hip deep in trouble when the events I am about to relay took place. I was headstrong and wild, the only daughter in a house full of boys. Always indulged and rarely scolded, I tended to overstep my limits without much thought as to what might happen as a result.

I had been traipsing about the hills surrounding our home when I came across Percy. He was sitting under a tree reading a book on something stuffy and I decided that I was going to have a little fun with him. He was so engrossed in his book that he did not realize I was there until he felt the snake slip down his robe. At first I thought it was vastly amusing to watch him scream as he tried to get it out. He hopped about and squirmed like nothing I had ever seen before.

Then things got scary. Percy's face went bright red and he stopped moving altogether. When he fell to the ground I ran for the house and brought Bill back to help. I later learned that I had somehow managed to find the only snake that my brother was allergic to and dropped it down his robe.

P: That is an easy question to answer Ginevra. My first memory of you is from when you were brought home from the hospital. You were wrapped in a bright pink blanket with a large satin bow stuck on the bit of red fuzz you had for hair. Mother and Father were still in shock over your gender and were hurriedly casting spells to change the color of the bedding and trim of Ron's old baby things.

The whole house was in an uproar. Fred and George had run off, Ron would not stop crying, Bill and Charlie were playing their music way too loud, and yet you stayed serene. I remember Mother saying you were like a princess surveying your kingdom.

I was standing there staring at you for so long that Mother finally dropped you into my arms and told me to make myself useful. I felt the responsibility of my task greatly and carefully arranged you so that you were able to look about the room at the chaos you had caused.

You gurgled and cooed from your place in my lap, your murky brown eyes sparkling with intelligence. You waved a tiny fist in the air and I marveled at how perfectly shaped your little fingers and nails were. I was in awe of your beauty and something of that awe remains in me still.

You have always been a rule breaker, always willing to stand up for what you believe and to hell with the consequences; which is, of course, the complete opposite of my own temperament. I am sure this is the reason that I admire the trait so very much. I know that I often had my nose in the air, sniffing at the situations you got yourself into, but I have supported you in all of your endeavors. And, at my age, I am finally secure enough to reveal that well kept secret.

Fred and George:

I have been told that my temperament most closely mirrors that of my twin brothers and I am certain that this is true. As a child I dogged their steps and tried desperately to insert myself into any half brained plan they had cooked up.

I adored my twin brothers. I have long assumed that the reason for this is simply that they made time for me. Even as a small child I remember them finding a way to fit me into whatever prank that they were planning. They never put me off or told me I was too young and because of that they have always had a special place in my heart.

When I was younger I did not know that my brothers existed apart from one another. In my mind they were one and the same. The two of them stood side by side against whatever storm was on their horizon and never seemed to mind that the other was ever present. I envied them in ways I still do not fully understand because of that tie. Only recently have I realized that this jealousy was not completely without warrant.

When I think of them now, my memories are full of wide smiles and eyes sparkling with mischief. I remember them holding me up to peer over the banister well past my bedtime and of them sneaking me onto the train to Hogwarts their first year when the thought of them leaving made me burst into tears. I danced with both of them at the same time at my wedding and did the same at both of theirs. Nothing I can say will ever capture the magic that was Fred and George and so I will not try. Instead I will write the facts and hope that something of them will still remain in the telling.

F: Mother called for you to come up stairs for your bath and you hissed that you weren't taking one, thank you. She huffed back that you had better get your red head up to the tub or else and something snapped. You plopped down on the sofa, crossed your arms and stuck out your lower lip.

G: Then you scowled and said once more that you were not in the mood of a bath. Mum came flying down those stairs as if Fred or I had lit something on fire and stood in front of you with her arms in the exact same position as your own.

F: We were watching from the kitchen table and as soon as she crossed her arms...

G: We started to laugh.

F&G: And Mum glared at us and told us not to put our oars in.

G: When her back was turned you stuck your tongue out at her and mimicked her facial expression perfectly.

F&G: Which only made us laugh harder.

G: By the time she turned back around you were sitting there looking like an angel. You gave her those big puppy eyes of yours and told her you were sorry for making her cross. You had only done so because you were afraid that the water would wash away your freckles.

F: She asked why you would think such a silly thing and you innocently said that Ron had told you that he had put a hex on you that would make you melt away if you went into the bath.

G: Mum gasped and said she had never heard of such a thing, patted you on the head, and then went out looking for Ron with a face like a storm cloud.

F: We had never been so proud. Our little Gin-Gin had escaped from trouble, pulled yet another prank of Ron, and gotten out of a bath...

F&G: And all without getting even the slightest bit of punishment for it.

Ron:

Ron has always been my least favorite brother. Maybe it was because we were so close in age that Ron and I were always at eachother's throats or maybe it was because I was treated like a princess while he made do with hand-me-downs. Whatever the reason, he and I never seemed to keep from fighting. I know he is a hero and that old and young alike sing his praises, but I grew up under his thumb and know the bad that comes along with his good.

I love my brother, don't question that, but that does not mean that I always enjoy having him around. Ron is narrow-minded, pigheaded and overprotective. He is quick to make up his mind and seldom changes it, no matter what proof he is offered to the contrary. A good example of this is his treatment of Draco. To the day that he died Ron hated my husband and he never once let an opportunity to tell him pass.

On the day of my wedding he sat outside the door of the church with my broomstick so that when I came to my senses I would be able to run out and jump on it without anything stopping me. For years after I married Draco, Ron refused to speak to me. Family events were strained and nigh impossible to enjoy but still, he kept on. It was not until the birth of my daughter that he relented and made an attempt to heal the breach between us.

My first memory of him is hazy at best. I am not sure how old I was at the time but I could not have been more than three. I was lying in my bed late at night crying over a nightmare I had when he came bursting into my room. He looked about wild eyed and demanded to know who had upset me.

When I told him of my dream he smiled that funny little smile of his and sat down on the bed next to me. He wrapped his thin arm around my shoulders and hugged me tight enough to keep the monsters at bay. Ron told me he would always be there and to never worry because nothing dark would touch me as long as he was by my side.

He tucked me in and then told me funny stories until I feel asleep.

R: You are about four years old in my first memory of you. Knowing our history it is not surprising that it is of the time you stole my favorite stuffed house elf doll and claimed it as yours. I was playing in the front yard with it, ordering it to make me mud pies and tell me stories, when you came running out the front door. You plopped down on the front stairs and started pestering me with question after question.

I remember getting rather annoyed with you and so I told you to stuff it before grabbing my toy and trying to push past you into the house. You jumped up, kicked me in the shins and absconded with my house elf before I had recovered from your attack. I yelled out that you had better give it back right now and you called back that you wouldn't and so there.

I chased you about the house, running from room to room which the intention of tackling you and forcibly making you return my possession. You laughed as we ran, your thick braids flowing out behind you like banners in the breeze. I was gaining on you and had just managed to grab hold of one of your braids when you let out a blood curling scream.

Mum burst into the room in time to see me yank you back by your hair and snatch the toy from your hands. She growled out my name and pulled you into her arms. I remember getting the lecture of a lifetime about treating my little sister with the respect due a young witch while you cried phony tears and stuck your tongue out at me when Mum wasn't looking. In the end I was forced to give you the house elf as part of my punishment.

I remember burning with self righteous indignation and railing about the unfairness of it to Charlie. He just laughed and told me I was getting my comeuppance. Is it any wonder that we did not get on at all as children after that?

Thoughts:

My family is my rock and in them I find my peace. I do not know what sort of a woman I would be if they had not been by my side guiding me at every stage of my life. While bickering and fussing might have been daily fare between my brothers and I, the bonds that formed between us as children have remained strong into the twilight of our lives. As the youngest I should not have been surprised to out live them, but still, somehow a surprise it was indeed.

Watching my children's children marry and start families of their own makes me realize yet again how very lucky I was to have grown up in the sort of environment that I did. It is said that the most important choice one can make is to pick their parents and siblings well. I am proud to say that my choice was a wise one indeed.