HERE'S A SHORTER ONE, BY REQUEST OF MY SIS.

THE BROOMSHED

Ginny glanced either way, making sure no one was looking. Ron was stuck doing chores, the twins up in their room, everyone else still at Hogwarts. Was there a chance Fred and George would see her? No, not if she was careful. Their bedroom was on the other side of the house.

What about her mother? No, Mum didn't care, as long as she didn't break one of the rickety old brooms.

That's right, Ginny Weasley was going to the forbidden: their broomshed. Only three brooms were there; she would take George's old Cleansweep 6. She had used Fred's last time, and there was a chance Mum might send Ron into the garden for something.

She grabbed the one deformed scarlet ball her brothers used as a Quaffle. Mounting the broom, she pushed off. Even at age eight, she was already an excellent rider. She wanted most of all to be a Chaser, but Seeker would be okay too. There were some trees her father had magicked into place to resemble goal hoops, for when Charlie needed to practice. Charlie was one of the best players ever at Hogwarts, Bill said so. And Bill never lied, at least not to her. She would never tell the others, but Bill was her favorite brother, closely followed by the twins.

With that, she aims for the hoops repeatedly, even trying some of the tricks Bill had taught her. Ginny commentated in her head every move she made.

"And Weasley is off, getting the Quaffle right away-she's going in for the goal, that poor Keeper doesn't stand a chance-going for the Woollongong Shimmy, what excellent form-she aims right-and oh! It was a fake! She shot left instead! Look at that beautiful goal! Ten points for-" well, for the Holyhead Harpies, of course! The only all-witch team in the league, and Ginny's favorite team. If Ginny was going to dream, she may as well dream big!

Ginny practiced for several minutes-and then she heard her mother begin to yell. She dismounted carefully, hiding the broomstick and Quaffle just in case. She stowed them away in the broomshed, with promises to come back tomorrow. Then she snuck back down to the house, the Burrow.

"Ginny!" Her mother rounded on her instantly. Ron, her nine-year-old brother, as well as the eleven-year-old twins were already being yelled at. "Where have you been?" Mum continued.

"De-gnoming the garden," Ginny said sweetly, praying the dirt from the ratty old Quaffle looked like the dirt from the gnomes.

"Hmm," Mum pondered, trying to decide if she was telling the truth or not. "Very well. Go and do something about your hands, dear, it's almost time for dinner."

Ginny bounded off to the small bathroom, listening to her brother's complaints and protests that she got off so easily without so much as a raised finger, whilst they were yelled at thoroughly.

Shortly after, Arthur Weasley arrived home, going on about some muggle home raid. Ginny stared at the empty seats and wished it were May already-when Bill, Charlie, and Percy would be home for the summer holidays. Dinner was served, delicious, with Ron, Fred, and George still fuming about the unfair distribution of punishment.

But Ginny stared at the broomshed, longing for the next day when she could give it another go.