"Jeffrey Michael Weasley, you get your behind out of bed and down here this instant!" Jeffrey heard his mother yelling as he fell off his broom. The Quidditch Cup would have been his! If only his mother had left him a few more minutes of sleep.
"Mmmgh," replied Jeffrey as he threw the covers above his head and shoved his pillow over his ears. He was just drifting back to sleep when his mattress started shaking. Thinking it was an earthquake or an explosion of some sort, he quickly got out of his quilted burrow and sat up. As a matter of fact, it was an explosion. Well, sort of. He categorized his youngest sister, Kayla Isabelle Weasley as explosive. Short for her five years, she bounced around the house like a blond haired supernova, destroying the peace and quiet and pulverizing sleep. Jeffrey strongly believed that this was her sole mission in life. And right now, she was taking out her excess energy on his bed.
"Kayla! Geroff my bed!" Jeffrey grumbled. He threw his pillow at her and missed horrendously. She was already out the door by the time he had reached for his weapon of choice.
"Jeffrey Weasley, have you finally decided to grace us with your presence?" his mother said sarcastically, as she leaned against the frame of his door. She walked in and started straightening up the papers on his desk and picking up his clothes off the floor.
"Jeff, we have to be ready in fifteen minutes. The Potters are coming over so we can all buy your school supplies together," she said as she stacked up his Quidditch magazines in a pile by his desk.
"In other words, get out of bed!" she exclaimed as she grabbed his bedsheets and forced him out of bed.
"Okay, okay, I'm up! No need to shout," Jeffrey muttered as he walked to his closet and picked out a pair of cargo pants and a blue shirt. Blue was one of the only colors that didn't clash with his red hair. He was the only Weasley child to have inherited his father's hair. Kayla and Taylor, his nine year old sister, both had blond hair, though Taylor's was slightly strawberry-blond.
Jeffrey motioned for his mother to leave the room as he changed. A minute later, he was running down the steps to breakfast. Once he arrived in the kitchen, he sat down at the table between his father and Taylor.
"Hey, sport," his father said, looking up from the Quidditch results in The Daily Prophet.
"Hey, Dad. Hey Taylor," he said, as he piled some toast into his plate. Taylor looked up from her book.
"Jeffrey, how many times will I have to remind you? Call me Taylor Jane! No one uses only their first name anymore. But, I respect you choice to use simply your first name. You may soon realize, though, that no one does that anymore and that you will be labeled as "lame" at school," she turned back to her book. Taylor Jane Weasley was, without a doubt, the most like their mother: worried about what was labeled as cool and what wasn't. Always dressed imaticulately, Taylor was the most popular nine year old on their block. This popularity status, however, never fazed her. She regarded it as a "silly, psychopathic game of follow the leader". Much more mature than her nine years, she often lectured Jeffrey on everything.
Jeffrey shrugged at her remark. "Whatever, TJ. Hey Kay, hand me some jam," he held out his hand and Kayla handed it to him.
"Jeff, you really won't have time eat all that. We have to be ready and in the living room in five minutes!" His mother pointed out, looking at the stack of food on his breakfast plate.
"Watch me," Jeffrey grinned as he engulfed all six pieces of toast at once. Taylor looked disgustedly away, Kayla laughed, his father looked proud, and his mother shook her head at her husband.
"Honestly, Ron, what have you been teaching our son?!" she glared the now-empty plate in front of Jeffrey.
"Now, Lavender, really, what if it was an emergency and he had to inhale his food? Now he's prepared for...umm... when the...umm...for...when he has to leave quickly for class in the morning at Hogwarts," he said, trying to find an excuse for his influence on his son.
"RONALD! Stop teaching our son such..." Lavender Weasley was cut off as a loud crash resounded in their living room and a voice echoed through the house.
"We're here!" yelled Emily Potter from the doorway of the kitchen.