All belong to J.K. Rowling.
Chap 2
Molly Weasley had just finished cleaning up after breakfast when the owl from Hogwarts arrived. For the first time since Bill's birth, only Arthur and herself were home. They had enjoyed a peaceful breakfast, accompanied only by the sunshine coming in through the kitchen window. After a cup of tea and quick kiss, Arthur left for work. Rather than using her wand, Molly cleaned up the two plates and mismatched tea cups by hand, gazing out the window. Faintly the ghoul upstairs could be heard moaning. The clock on the mantel ticked louder than usual. With a flick of her wand, the radio came to life. But even Celestina Warbeck could not fill the void of silence of the Burrow.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Molly glanced up from the sink. A brown owl holding a letter patiently looked back at her from the other side of the window. She let it in, taking the letter and giving the owl a treat. The envelop was marked simply "Mum and Dad," and sealed in wax with the Hogwarts stamp. Never one to wait, Molly opened it up and recognized her daughter's girlish, loopy handwriting. She grinned, excited to hear already from one of her children so soon.
Dear Mum and Dad,
I know this is so soon but I honestly couldn't wait to write you. The train ride was uneventful, but I bought a chocolate frog with the few knuts you gave me. Thank you again. The ride across the lake to the castle was even more beautiful than you described it, Mum. And the enchanted ceiling! You never told me about that. As for the sorting..,
The sorting hat didn't put me in Gryffindor. I know Aunt Muriel was in Ravenclaw but it didn't place me there either. Are you sitting down? Because Mum, Dad.. I have been sorted in Slytherin.
Are you okay Dad? Before you start writing Dumbledore please know I have fully accepted this decision. I'm still surprised but I think I'll be okay here. I already have made friends with one of my roommates, her name is Claire Snow. I think her dad works for the ministry, maybe you know him Dad? Anyways, I thought I would write before Ron or the twins, or worse, Percy, wrote to you first and made it seem a whole lot worse.
I'll be sure to write again soon and tell you more. It's late and I'm ready to go to sleep. Write me back please!
Love,
Ginny
Molly reread the letter three times. She imagined this would not be the last letter she got that day from Hogwarts, and indeed, all of her sons wrote her a letter informing her about Ginny by dinner. Professor Dumbledore sent a letter as well, reassuring that Slytherin would be an excellent fit for the youngest Weasley, and that he hoped that Ginny would find support from her parents. Molly rolled her eyes. Of course this did not change her view on Ginny. If she were honest, perhaps she found that this sorting wasn't all that surprising. Her daughter always had displayed cunningness when it came to her brothers and was rather resourceful.
The memory of a six year old little red haired girl flying around at night on her older brother's broom came to mind. Molly smiled. No, she was not upset. Worried perhaps, but not upset. Even though she had been a proud member of Gryffindor, Molly could remember well Andromeda, the beautiful eldest daughter of the Black family. She had been a member of Slytherin and one of the only people who helped a lost first year Molly the day classes began.
Putting away the letter until Arthur came home, Molly looked around the kitchen. There was always mending to be done, but the pile in the basket next to the sofa appeared lighter than usual. Her thoughts drifted to Ginny, with her second hand robes. An idea popped into her head, the same one that occasionally came to her during quiet moments. Unlike before though, Molly allowed herself to seriously consider this idea, especially now that no children were in the house. She made another cup of tea, and then another, thinking it over. By the time she finished her third cup, she knew exactly what she planned to do. Leaving the cup in the sink to be washed later, Molly grabbed her small pouch, and walked over to the fireplace, stepping in.
"The Ministry!" She shouted clearly, throwing the powder down. The fireplace roared to life, and an instant, she was gone