ICN: I think that Fred would pretty much accept from early childhood that he is taking over WWW some day; luckily I think this suits him down to the ground so he'd leave Hogwarts and go straight into the shop. He'd play music at the Leaky on Saturday nights though.

HAIR: dark brown.

EYES: dark brown.

WAND: dogwood, unicorn hair, eleven inches.

Fred Weasley stared absentmindedly at the almost luminous strawberry tresses of his cousin in front of him. She was exactly his height, which was gratifying because up until a month or two ago she had always been taller than him. The height difference didn't change her slightly imperious attitude and competitive nature, though. If she wasn't such a mastermind at pranking, he and James would never put up with her.

Thinking of his favourite cousin, Fred's liquid gaze wandered across to the Gryffindor table. James was messing around with his fork, twirling it into the wooden table with an absolute disregard for the wellbeing of the furniture. Fred grinned as he saw the empty seat next to his cousin. He was sure that James had been doing an admirable job without him, but mischief couldn't really be managed properly without the genetic influence of the infamous Weasley twins. Luckily, Fred lived up to all the expectations that being the child of George Weasley created. His faintly freckled cheeks dimpled with delight as he thought about the havoc that he, James and Dom would create in their soon-to-be common room, utilising the bag of Wheezes products that his Dad had slipped him before he'd boarded the train. No Mum or Grandma or Aunt Fleur - or in fact anyone - foiling their plans! Excellent.

He snuck a glance at Professor Vector, who had been watching the line of first-years with intense suspicion between placing the Sorting Hat on students' heads. Her attention was diverted, however, as she looked at her watch, a frown line between her thin black eyebrows. The boy on the stool – Fred hadn't been paying attention so he didn't know his name – was looking extremely anxious, having been under the Hat for a good three minutes. Fred took the opportunity to sneak an every-flavour bean from his robe pocket, grimacing as he chewed his way through a sickeningly salty seawater flavoured one. Grabbing another one, he brought it to his lips just as Dom turned and dug her sharp elbow into his arm, a gleam in her sky blue eyes.

"Molly looks about as happy as if she's just drank bubotuber pus. Reminds me of that time we tricked her into eating a whole handful of your Dad's Sourpuss Sherbet. Remember?"

Fred did remember and the memory made him smile widely. Molly wasn't nasty or mean, particularly, but she took after her father in the most dreadful way. Uncle Perce – as George had taught his children to address an unamused Percy – was easily the least fun of Fred's many adult relatives. Even the slightly snobbish Aunt Fleur was more of a laugh than him. And Molly, prudish and often ill-tempered and not at all afraid to run and tell the grown-ups, had been the bane of her young cousins' childhoods, with the result that she became a major target for their practical joking. Fred opened his mouth to ask Dom if she had any of the sherbet in her trunk but the Sorting Hat broke its silence at that moment, Sorting the boy on the stool into Ravenclaw. Dom swung back around at the distraction, almost hitting Fred in the face with her curtain of perfectly wavy hair. He shrugged and popped the almost-forgotten every-flavour bean into his mouth as the line inched forward, sighing with relief when the warm taste of malted milk spread over his tongue.

Still thinking of the oh-so-prank-able Molly, Fred turned back towards the Gryffindor table and saw that she was alternating between shooting annoyed looks at James from behind her owlish glasses and watching himself and Dom. Hurriedly looking away before she could catch his eye, Fred located Victoire at the Hufflepuff table and watched in amusement as she polished her Prefect badge with her sleeve, silvery blue eyes darting up frequently to monitor her sister. She had been so pleased last year when she had received the badge in the post, proudly showing it off to their grandparents at the annual Burrow gathering. Teddy had immediately engaged her in conversation about the pros and cons of the role, chivalrously offering his guidance if need be. Fred highly doubted that Vic needed any kind of guidance, as she was an obvious choice for Prefect and would probably make Head Girl too, but she had seemed intensely interested nonetheless. Girls were just odd like that, Fred decided. At least he himself would never have the dishonour of a Prefect badge, although he had a horrible feeling that his disappointingly un-mischievous little sister, Roxy, might be in danger.

His wandering attention snapped back to the Sorting Hat as 'Weasley, Dominique' was called. Stepping forward into place at the front of the line, Fred saw his cousin all but pull the Hat onto her head herself. He smirked at her typical boldness. As he watched, though, the smile fell from her face. Fred frowned as his cousin's expression twisted, looking unusually upset. She mouthed a denial, her small fists tense on her knees. Shooting a glance at the tables Fred saw Victoire sitting bolt upright, her distressed expression echoing her sister's. Feeling uncharacteristically anxious, he looked back at Dom and fidgeted slightly on the spot. His discomfort grew as the seconds ticked by, Dom's eyes screwed up, her slim ginger eyebrows drawn together in what seemed to be concentration. Finally, after what seemed like an age, the Hat proclaimed her a Gryffindor. Fred blew out his breath in a rush, laughing with relief as Dom hopped off the stool with a glowing smile. Of course she was in Gryffindor. Merlin knew what that had been about.

He walked up to the Hat even as Vector read out his name, his smile turning to a scowl as he saw Dom unapologetically take the seat James had been saving for him, totally ignoring her elder cousin's protests. Rolling his eyes, Fred felt the Hat settle on his head, unsurprised as it was whisked away a moment after immediately giving its verdict:

"GRYFFINDOR!"