When the early-morning sunlight streamed through the open windows, it illuminated the orange room that had posters of a sports team covering every inch of the walls. A stray beam from the glimmering sun fell upon a young girl's face, causing her eyelids to flutter open, and squint at the shock of the blinding glow. She turned her back to the windows before sitting up and rubbing her tired eyes. She pushed her red hair from her face and looked around the room. In a sudden moment, her expression brightened. She leapt from her bed and ran to an identical one across the room. The girl flung herself onto a sleeping lump, climbed on top of it, and began shaking it with fervent excitement. "Ronald!" she cried as she tried to jolt him awake. "Ronald, wake up!"

However, he gave her a half-conscious grunt of protest and tugged at his blanket to cover his red-haired head. The girl climbed off him with a huff and sat on her own bed to deliberate her next move. She rubbed her chin, as though she were a thoughtful philosopher with a beard. A mischievous grin spread across her face, and she stood to creep towards the opposite bed again. She leaned down, moving her lips directly next to his ear, took a large breath inward, and screamed: "RONALD, WAKE UP! THE CHUDLEY CANNONS ARE HERE!"

Ronald Weasley shot upwards in bed with eyes open, crazed, and red from sleep. He looked back and forth frantically. "Where?" he demanded, "I need to get Galvin Gudgeon's autograph!"

When he realized what forced him awake was an entire fabrication, he shot a smug expression to the culprit. "Thanks a lot, Aralynn," he grumbled. "I really thought Galvin Gudgeon was here."

Aralynn offered an innocent smile, and said, "if not Gudgeon, who else?"

"Dragomir Gorgovitch," Ron yawned. "He holds the record for most Quaffle drops in a season. It may not be a good record, but it's a record."

"Is that your dream job, then? Ronald Weasley: Chudley Cannon Chaser, and notorious Quaffle-dropper!"

Ron gave her a dark look and pushed her over on the bed. "Why did you wake me up? I was having a very nice dream, and now my chances of ever kissing Indira Choudry are gone."

"Indira Choudry?" Aralynn gasped dramatically, "but what would Galvin say?"

"Shut up," the boy grumbled before curling up under his blanket again, placing one of his pillows over his head. "Back to sleep I go."

"No!" Aralynn shouted, jumping on top of her brother. "You must wake up, and stay awake, Ron! It's absolutely crucial!"

He groaned for a long time before pushing Aralynn off him again. "Why?" he asked, "who died? I want to go back to sleep! I don't even know what time it is!"

"It's nine o'clock," she said, "and no one died," she added with a shove, "but some were born today."

Ron looked dumbfoundedly at her, but his expression slowly shifted with realization. "Oh!" he exclaimed. "That's right, it's our birthday—happy birthday, Aralynn!"

"And to you, good sir," she responded in a scholarly tone.

"You're old."

"I am not!"

"Old woman," Ron grinned.

"If I'm old, then what are you?" she hissed, pushing him playfully. "We're twins, Ronald. If I'm old, you're old, too."

"I am flowering with youth!" he replied as he dragged himself out of his bed. He dropped to his knees and crawled under the bed, rummaging through items beneath, making it obvious that he was looking for something.

Aralynn leaned over the side of the bed, watching his feet and legs shift around as he dug through the mess. "Uh, Ron?" she questioned, "what're you doing?"

"Looking for something," his muffled voice responded.

"Looking for what?"

"Something…"

"Which is what?"

"This," Ron replied as he scooted out from underneath the bed. In his hands, there was a large and tattered leather book. "It's your birthday present. I thought you might like it."

"What is it?" she asked, taking the book within her arms.

"Memories," he told her.

Aralynn furrowed her eyebrows, glancing at him before looking back down to the book. She ran her fingers over the bindings and pulled the front cover away from the first page. When she looked down, the page revealed a photograph of herself as an infant, asleep in her crib, wrapped in that plaid red and pink blanket she felt unusually attached to. She turned the page, seeing another photograph of herself as an infant, only this time, she and Ron were lying together on a blanket outside of The Burrow with their mother sitting above their heads. The third page shared a photograph of their second birthday, where Ron sat in a handcrafted highchair with frosting smeared along his face. Aralynn was in an identical highchair, taking some of the cake from Ron's plate. As she continued to flip through the book, she watched her life's story with every turn of a page. The book was documentation of her adventures throughout the years. The last page, before the remaining were left blank, was a moving photograph. The picture was of Aralynn and her father dancing together at Christmas. She was wearing a navy-blue dress with a white sash tied in a bow around her waist, white flats, and a white headband. Aralynn smiled down at the photograph and touched the page admiringly. Even though she received very few presents that year, it was one of the best.

Aralynn looked up to Ron and gave him a thankful smile. "I love this," she told him as she leaned over to hug him tightly. "Now I can add to it throughout our years at Hogwarts. I'm never going to let this go."

"I'm glad you like it. Found the book in the garage. Mum helped me with the photos," Ron replied, but then his ears reddened with embarrassment. "It's not lame, is it?"

"No," she smiled, "no, it's wonderful. I have a present for you, too."

Before either of them could say anything more, their mother began to holler from the base of the home, up several flights of stairs in their abnormally tall house. "Ron; Aralynn!" she called, "come down for breakfast, please!"

Aralynn stood excitedly. "I'll give you your present after breakfast," she said and grabbed her brother's hand, lifting him to his feet, and tugged him down the stairs. They trampled down together, and then plowed into the kitchen, where their younger sister, Ginny, was sitting at a table stockpiled with various breakfast foods.

"Happy birthday, darlings," Molly Weasley said, and walked over to cup her children's cheeks in her hands. "Eleven years old. It's so hard to believe! I remember when you were both little babies—as if it were just yesterday."

"We haven't grown too much, have we?" Aralynn asked.

"Far too much!" she exclaimed, sniffing away the tears forming in her eyes. "You were so young, and so sweet, and now you're all grown up!"

"Not quite yet," she responded, giving her mother a small smile. "Even when I'm an adult, I'm always going to be your little girl, Mum, and Ron will be your little boy—even if he won't admit it. We would never want it to be any other way."

"Don't bring me into this," Ron grumbled at her.

"It's our birthday, Ronald. You're included in everything."

"Such an angel," Molly admired, kissing the top of Aralynn's head.

Molly then turned back towards the oven, withdrew her wand from the pocket on the apron, and flicked it so that the dishes in the sink began to wash themselves. After tucking the wand away again, she continued turning over more little sausages she was browning in a sizzling pan.

Aralynn moved to take her seat at the table, picking at the eggs on her plate with her fork. It was only ten o'clock in the morning, and it was already the perfect birthday for her. She didn't need a cake, or presents, or anything ridiculously extravagant. All she needed was to be surrounded by her happy, smiling, and dysfunctional family. She would have only wished that her other brothers could be there with her.

Her two eldest brothers, however, were working in Romania and Egypt. Percy, George, and Fred were working their way through their third term at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It was difficult, sometimes, to be without them, but there wasn't much longer before she and Ron were at Hogwarts along with them. She had been counting the days since the school year started, eagerly awaiting the arrival of September first.

The door nearest to the table opened; and a tall, redheaded man with a pointed brown hat upon his head walked into the house with a few items under his arm. "'Morning, Weasleys!" he called out.

"'Morning, Dad!" the three children responded.

"Good morning, dear," Molly greeted her husband, giving him a simple kiss on the cheek before she returned to her sausages.

Arthur ambled over to Aralynn and gave her a kiss on the top of her head, then went to Ron with a second kiss. "Happy birthday, Little Reds," he said, and took his place at the head of the table, "finally eleven years old, and ready to attend Hogwarts."

Ron's ears went hot with embarrassment, mumbling a quiet 'thank you' to their father. Aralynn giggled behind her hand while he sunk into his seat.

"Thank you, Dad," she told him with an unchangeable smile. She loved when her father referred to her by her longtime nickname of 'Little Red'. Even though each of the family shared one hair color, they were all blessed with various nicknames pertaining to its redness.

Arthur Weasley leaned over the table and offered an envelope to the girl and an envelope to the boy. They took them from his hands and looked at the scratchy handwriting on the front addressed to them. Aralynn flipped her envelope around to see that the stamp was a dragon.

"It's from Charlie!" she exclaimed.

She broke the seal and unfolded the parchment to reveal more scratchy handwriting. All the words were addressed to her, which, for some reason, made her feel special.

'Dear Fire Head,

Happy birthday! I hope it's exciting for you to turn eleven today. I expect that you'll be receiving your acceptance letter to Hogwarts soon. Hogwarts was a wonderful time for me, and I hope it's equally as wonderful for you. It's the doorway between adolescence and adulthood, where you discover your purpose, and who you are. Though, I think you may already know your purpose in life. You have a good head on your shoulders, and I know you'll be okay, no matter where life takes you.

Mum and I have been writing back and forth, discussing what your life at Hogwarts will be like. She's insistent that you're going to be sorted into Gryffindor. She says it's a Weasley Family tradition, but I can't say I agree. You're brave, yes, that's undeniable, but you're also intelligent and witty, loyal, and hardworking, but also ambitious and cunning. You're a great mixture of all the houses, but I could see you as a fine Slytherin. When I told Mum this, she was livid. She insisted that you'd never be sorted into such a house. Aralynn, always remember that Slytherin is not an evil house. It has a bad reputation because of those who have cycled through there. Slytherin is the House of Evil People, but not the House of Evil. Remember that, will you? There have been plenty of good people to come from Slytherin, and I'm sure you'll meet them one day.

I wanted to come home for yours and Ron's birthday, but we recently got a new dragon, and he's particularly disobedient. Romania has been such an interesting place to live, and I'm sure you'll love it when you can come to visit. Mum and Dad have been planning to come and see me, but as you know, money is tight. They're going to do what they can when they can. You'll love the dragons, and I can't wait to see you, Fire Head. For your birthday, I've enchanted ten galleons to cling to the bottom of this letter. Spend them on something nice for yourself, will you? A wand of your own, perhaps?

I hope to see you soon, Aralynn. I miss you.

Love always,

The Dragon Tamer.'

Aralynn looked down the letter and detached the galleons Charlie gifted her. She studied them in her palm, and then looked up to her father. "He sent me ten galleons. He wants me to spend them on something nice for myself, maybe a wand, but I think they should go towards whatever supplies we will need from Diagon Alley," she said, offering them to Arthur.

"You ought to take his advice, Little Red," he said, but took the coins, regardless, if only for safekeeping.

"Supplies for Hogwarts are more important," she insisted. "If there's anything left over, I'll use that to buy something for myself—a pet, or wand, or maybe an ice cream from Florean Fortescue's."

"That's very humble of you," Molly said. Her expression told them that she was very proud of herself for how she raised her children.

"You could get an owl!" Ron exclaimed. "You should get an owl. I'll be stuck with Percy's hand-me-down rat."

"Scabbers is a fine rat," Aralynn said, though she was trying to convince herself of that as much as she was Ron. She looked at the gray lump that was fast asleep in her brothers' lap.

"He's useless," Ron argued with a shake of his head. He, too, looked down at the rat and gave it a sharp poke in the belly. The rat, however, did not move. "See what I mean?"

Aralynn, trying to maintain the notion that she believed Scabbers was a good pet, then smiled up to her mother as she brought a candled cake to the table. "You didn't have to bake, Mum."

"Why are you trying to eat our birthday, Aralynn?" Ron hissed, gently kicking her leg underneath the table, which rightly earned him a scowl.

"Of course, I did!" Molly squawked, as though outraged. "You must have a cake on your birthday! A birthday is never complete without a birthday cake."

"Oh, alright," Aralynn laughed.

Molly lit the candles with a wave of her wand. "Go on," she encouraged, "blow them out, you two—and make a wish!"

Aralynn took Ron's hand as they turned their attention to their birthday cake and looked between each of the candles' flames. They took a deep breath inward, then blew all of them out in one try. As their mother had encouraged them to do, Aralynn made a wish—and she hoped Ron did, as well. She wished for happiness, health, and safe passage to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.