Chapter One: Good Morning Charlie Weasley…

Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I awaken to yet another frigid morning at Hogwarts. I stretch and look out the window at the grey skies, which promise one more dreary day in Scotland. The gloominess seems to reach my soul, but I soldier on because I know that in a few short months I can leave school and strike out on my own…preferably to some place warmer. I glance at the wall above my bed and a sigh of contentment escapes my lips.

"Stop staring at your ruddy pictures of Hawaii, Charlie." I hear the distinctive Irish brogue of my good friend and confidant, Patrick "Paddy" Meagher and I turn toward his bed. He has always been an early riser and if it wasn't for his constant mothering, I probably wouldn't have made it through Hogwarts. "Snape doesn't give a damn about your bloody dreams and all. That cake hole is going to give you a swift kick in the bollocks if you're late again."

An uncontrollable shiver goes through my body as I prepare for the initial shock of removing myself from the comfort of my blankets. In a single motion, I throw off the bed covers and stand up in my extremely fashionable Chudley Cannons boxers. I gasp as my feet touch the cold stone floor and begin the now ritual dance of frantically searching for my slippers.

"Still damn parky out there," I mutter as my feet finally find the warmth of my fuzzy pink slippers. My hands automatically grope for my robe and once I find it on the bedpost, I throw it quickly over my now chilled body. Staring at my highly erect man nipples, I laugh. "Looks like I'm smuggling peanuts, doesn't it Paddy?"

Paddy chuckles at my discomfort as he exits the bedroom suite, following his morning habit of going to the library for an hour before he meets me for breakfast. He has spent his years at Hogwarts studying hard in his quest to become a healer who specializes in children's illnesses. I have always admired his single-minded pursuit of his goal, which is in direct contrast to my inability to even decide which tie I should wear today.

Quidditch…I guess that is my answer. I will go wherever the golden snitch takes me. Everyone seems to marvel at my skills and they tell me that I am the greatest Seeker since 'Dangerous' Dai Llewellyn of the Caerphilly Catapults. I mean, I just read that Ludo Bagman, the famed beater for the Winbourne Wasps, has just been promoted to the head of the Department of Games and Sports and he started out as an 'Assistant to the Assistant of the Head of the Quidditch Rules Committee'. Still, it seems that he was hired as a reward for playing so many years. What will I do once my days as a Seeker are done twenty years from now? Will I end up as a coach or just a run-down, beaten-up old flyer pawning Ogden's Old Fire Whiskey on the Wizarding Wireless?

"Fred, George, you lazy wankers…get your arses up," I yell as my mind snaps back to the present. I curse my luck while staring at the sleeping forms of my younger twin brothers. Dumbledore asked me at the beginning of the term to keep an eye on my mischievous siblings and in one of my more foolish moments I arranged to have my brothers move into my suite. As I slip on my pajama bottoms, I finally see the gits begin to stir. "I'm going to give you both a right pasting if you're late to another class."

I know Paddy would tell me to practice what I preach when it comes to giving advice to my brothers. But I am the older brother and a prefect along with being seeker of the Quidditch team; therefore I must at least try to keep Fred and George in line. It's becoming increasingly difficult for me to figure out who I really am. Am I the young, wisecracking Quidditch player or the boy who always ran off when he lived at home and tried to find a quiet, secluded spot away from the hustle and bustle of the Burrow?

The reoccurring thought that I ruined my seventh year by letting these two gits room with me keeps going through my mind as I make my way out of the boy's dormitory and into the common area. I mean, they are good for a few giggles and all, but being around them is absolutely exhausting. The late night antics, the constant chatter about the best way to warp a spell to use it for a prank, and their idiotic idea about opening up a joke shop when they finish school is almost too much to stand…but then on the other hand, at least I'm not living with Percy.

I thank Merlin that no one is in the corridor as I make my way out the door and head down the hall toward the seventh floor lavatory. It is so much more peaceful in here than using the boy's washroom in the dorm. Who in their right mind wants to have a conversation about wonders of hensbane when you're going to the loo? Walking down the hallway, I hear the quiet echo of my own footsteps and cherish these few moments of solitude.

I wash up and try to straighten my hair, which is now past my shoulders. I let my hair grow out because on my meager funds, having to choose between butterbeer or my personal appearance...and butterbeer always won. An unexpected bonus to my hairstyle of choice is that my mother was absolutely mortified when I went home for Christmas. I happily ignored my dear mum's request for a haircut and took great pleasure in swishing my hair back and forth, especially in the kitchen when she was cooking, which seemed to get a rise out of her.

My conservative, straight-laced, head boy brother, Bill, fire called me recently and said that he admired my long tresses when he saw them over the break and decided to affect the same look. Bill said that he wanted to look a bit more 'roguish' so he had one of his ears pierced and bought himself a new wardrobe. He said he had been home in March before leaving for his new post in Egypt, and that mom wanted to "trim up his hair a bit," but he had politely refused. After all, Bill told me that the 'rock star' look was quite popular with the ladies.

After I finish brushing my teeth, I head back to the dormitory and no sooner do I take a step into the common area when my highly irate younger brother, Percy, confronts me, while running his hands through his now day-glo orange hair. His mouth is moving and he seems to be highly agitated, but I don't hear a word he says as I am mesmerized by his hair as I watch it slowly turn a lovely shade of pale pink.

"LOOK AT WHAT THOSE BLOODY BASTARDS DID TO MY HAIR!" Percy screams as he furiously yanks at his hair. Finally, I begin to hear Percy's rantings as I forcibly stop myself from staring at his hair while it continues to change to a now fluorescent green. I look around and see other Gryffindors gathering around to look at my poor brother's dilemma. A quick survey of the area tells me that my twin brothers are curiously absent from the spectacle.

"It's just 'Glad Glo Quick Dye', a new little potion that the two little gits have been working on," I say calmly while trying to suppress my laughter. I put my hand on Percy's shoulder and am silently grateful that I was not the guinea pig for Fred and George's fertile imaginations, at least not this time. "It should wear off in a day. Just skive-off classes until then and I'll tell your professor's that you are ill."

"Skive-off classes?" Percy yells as he looks at me in shock and amazement that I would even consider suggesting that he miss an opportunity to attend classes and plant a big wet kiss on his teacher's arses. "I attended class when they put 'Fred's Fanny Fart Smell' on me and even when they put a permi-mesh spell on those leather elephant ears that I was forced to wear for a week. They damn well are not going to get me to skive-off class over this stupid prank."

With his head held high, Percy turns and storms back to the boy's dormitory to get ready for class and all I can do is laugh. The twins do keep things hopping around here and I will miss them when I graduate (but a little bit of peace and quiet after spending most of my life watching the jokes, pranks, and general chaos caused by Fred and George will be nice).

As I reenter my room, I find it empty and wonder how the twins got ready so quickly and snuck out of the dorm without Percy seeing them. Throwing off my robe, I grab my shirt, tie, socks, shoes, and trousers, all of which hang haphazardly over the edge of my bed. After swiftly putting on my clothes, I look outside and see snow begin to fall again. Cursing, I throw on a sweater, coat, and Gryffindor scarf before I put on my robes.

"Quidditch practice is going to be a bitch," I mutter to no one in particular as I grab my books. Stopping once again to look out the window, I wonder if Hawaii has any Quidditch teams and if they play in aloha shirts and grass skirts with the sun beating down around them in all its balmy glory. 'Now that would be the life,' I think to myself as I rush out into another blustery British day to meet Paddy for breakfast.