'She's been breaking into your broom shed in the garden since the age of six and taking each of your brooms out in turn when you weren't looking.'
Little Ginny lay quietly in bed, watching her brothers out the window. They were playing quidditch, a game that looked simply marvellous, but a game that her brothers were not allowing her to play. They had said she was too young, but she had argued back.
"Fred, George, can I play quidditch too?" Ginny asked her 9 year old brothers, sometimes known as the twins or the evil ones. She was tugging on Fred's sleeve, or it could have been George's, she didn't know. "Please?" She asked, staring up at them with a small, innocent voice and a cute, smiling, freckled face.
"No Ginny, you're too young, besides, Bill's not playing so if you played the teams wouldn't be even." George said, handing Fred his broomstick from the broom shed. All of a sudden he let out a yelp and jumped, turning around and looking at Ginny.
"She scratched me!" He said, and Fred turned to look at Ginny, who had her hands on her hips and an angry look on her face. Her resemblance to her mother was unbelievable, and so was the temper that followed.
"WHY NOT? YOU LET RON PLAY QUIDDITCH AND HE'S ONLY 1 YEAR OLDER THEN ME! THAT'S NOT FAIR!! AND I COULD GET BILL TO PLAY, WHICH WOULD MAKE THE TEAM'S EVEN! I WANT TO PLAY! MUUUUUUUUUUUUUM!"
Ginny shouted at the top of lungs, causing the twins to back away, and causing Ron and Charlie to look down at her from their brooms, only to have them fly farther away. The quiet, innocent voice was forgotten immediately. Ginny had an extremely bad temper, inherited by her mother, who come running out at that exact moment, wearing oven mitts and an apron.
"Ginny what is it now? I can't have the chicken burn! It's such a pain having to cook like a muggle, but somebody or should I saw, a couple people, stole my wand. Which, by the way, had better be back after dinner, or else there will be no quidditch for quite a while, and I will also be inspecting their room, throwing out any junk that I find!" Mrs. Weasley said, never taking her eyes off her daughter.
"It's not junk!" Fred shouted, earning an evil glare from his brother.
"Anyway, what is it Ginny?"
"FRED AND GEORGE WON'T LET ME-"
"Ginny, please, no shouting! Now, start over, slower and quieter. What didn't Fred and George let you do?"
"They won't let me play quidditch! They say I'm too young but they let Ron play and he's only a year older then me!" Ginny said, trying her best not to scream again.
"Oh Ginny, I don't you want you playing quidditch. It's a boy's sport." Her mother told her gently. Bill, who had come out to see what all the screaming was about, said,
"Actually mum, there's a girl on the quidditch team, Rebecca Wilson, and she's beater, so it's not only a boy's sport-"
"Bill, why don't you go do your potions homework?" Mrs. Weasley said to him, turning to look at him.
"What potions homework?" Bill asked, not catching on.
"SEE! IT'S NOT JUST A BOYS SPORT!" Ginny yelled once again.
"Oh…that potions homework…" Bill said, hurrying into the house. Mrs. Weasley sighed and turned to Ginny.
"Ginny, I don't want you playing quidditch, it's too dangerous for a little girl like you."
"Yeah Ginny." Fred said.
"UGH!!!!" She screamed and stomped over to Fred, giving him a scratch that looked just like his brothers.
"Ginny!" Molly said, astonished at her daughters behaviour. Ginny then stormed into the house, and you could here her slam her door.
"Here you two, we'll get you cleaned up." Molly said, glancing at Ginny's window. "Oh wait, I don't have my wand, so I can't!"
Fred and George gave each other defeated looks and led Molly to the hiding place of her 'misplaced' wand.
And now Ginny was in her room, lying down on her bed and staring wistfully at the window, where apples were being thrown around. You can't even play quidditch with 4 people…just shows how much they know Ginny thought miserably.
There was a knock at the door. "Come in." Ginny said with absolutely no emotion whatsoever. It was Percy.
"Hi Gin. I heard you were deprived of the ability to play quidditch." Percy said.
"Deprived?"
"You weren't allowed to. It's another word for that."
"Oh. Yes I was. And why don't they just say you aren't allowed to?"
"It's easier. And don't feel too bad. I never play quidditch, and I turned out alright."
"Perce, you know what deprived means. I don't even think Bill knows what deprived means."
"Of course he does. That's where I learned it."
"Percy, you are the most strangest 11 year old boy I know."
"Not most strangest Ginny, strangest."
"Oh, get out!" Ginny yelled at her brother, throwing a pillow at him.
"Thank goodness he's going to Hogwarts this year." Ginny said quietly to herself. Percy was a nuisance. Always was, always will be.
Ginny got up and walked over to the window. All 4 boys were now going inside, muddy with bits of apples on them. Maybe…yes, she could do it.
She snuck downstairs, jumping over every creaky step. She made sure to avoid the kitchen. Her brothers were pigs; they ALWAYS stuffed their faces after a game of Quidditch. She figured she would have about 20 minutes…
"Man that was a long game…and really tiring…" She heard Charlie say, and heard the others murmur in agreement.
She would have about an hour.
She carefully opened the door and snuck outside, the sun beating down on her bare legs and arms. She crossed over to the broom shed and opened it quietly. Inside they were 6 brooms. One for each of her brothers, except Percy. Percy didn't play quidditch.
She looked at them all. She couldn't use Charlie's; if she wrecked it he would kill her. Fred and George…she wouldn't risk. Even without wands who knew what they could do. Ron's…yes, she could use Ron's. She quietly took it out of the shed and stared at it. Then she sat on it. She didn't know what to do next.
She had never been taught to play quidditch. She had watched her brothers plenty of times, but it was harder when you actually did it. She thought of Charlie…he always pushed off now, with his feet. So she pushed off…and found herself in the air.
It was an amazing feeling. It felt great to be in the air, so natural. She leaned forward, only to find herself plummeting to the ground. Terrified, she sat up, and pulled on the broom. She stopped.
This isn't too hard. Ginny thought.She was getting the hang of it already. She just wouldn't try any dives. But, how was she going to land!?
Oh well, she'd worry about it later. Right now, she wanted to feel the freedom of being in the air. She flew okay. She wasn't that good, but she wasn't that bad.
She flew around, that's it. She didn't try anything to fancy. She didn't want to hurt herself. She had seen how mum got whenever Bill owled that Charlie hurt himself playing quidditch. She freaked out, to put it bluntly.
After about an hour of simply flying, Ginny thought she had better come down. She didn't want to be caught by her brothers. One problem. After that one incident, she was afraid to go anywhere near the ground. But she had to. She couldn't stay up here all day.
Ginny took a breath and started flying towards the ground. To fast. She sat up, slowing down a little, but about 3 feet from the ground, she somehow managed to fall off the broom, scraping her arm on something, probably a rock.
She sat on the ground, looking at her arm. It was bleeding. Great. Mum would freak if she found out she hurt herself flying, and Ron would freak if her knew she had been flying on his broom.
She quickly but quietly put the broom back in the shed, and then opened the door, rushing into the loo. She cleaned up her arm, and then quietly went back up to bed.
She lay down on her bed, looking out the window. It was almost dinner time.
Ginny closed her eyes, trying to recapture the feeling of being up in the air. She couldn't. It was hard.
She heard her mum calling her downstairs for dinner. She breathed a sigh of relief. She didn't know.
She went down and sat down at the table, away from her brothers. "Pass the potatoes" She said coldly to Fred.
"What's wrong with Ginny?" Her father asked her mother, but it was Fred who answered.
"Ginny's still mad that we didn't let her play quidditch. Of come on Gin, it's not like your going to get on the quidditch team or anything." Fred said, handing her the potatoes.
Ginny simply piled her potatoes onto her plate. They didn't know.
And they never would.