Ginny turned her head from side to side as her brothers and Harry laughed at the writing that appeared next.

The Only Real Rule by Charlie Weasley

Five boys sat around the Weasleys' scrubbed kitchen table in addition to Ron in his high chair next to Arthur.

"Daddy has to go back to work today, and I need you to be very good and help Mummy and play quietly so the baby doesn't cry. Can you all do that?"

Six ginger heads nodded solemnly.

The scene shifted, and Ron stood over Ginny's bassinet in the sitting room, one hand reaching for the dummy in the sleeping baby's mouth.

"Ron!" Charlie whispered loudly. "Don't take her binky—you'll make her cry."

The same room, a couple of years later. Ron, Fred, and George wrestled in a heap of arms and legs as Percy sat reading in an armchair, oblivious to the noise of feet and elbows banging walls and knees and heads thunking against the floor.

Charlie came down the stairs. "Percy, you're supposed to be watching them. I can hear you lot in my room. Knock it off—you're going to wake Ginny and then she'll start to cry!"

Fairy lights strung on the bannister and a parade of boys in hand-knitted jumpers stampeding down the stairs. Molly exited Ginny's room and stopped a sheepish-looking Bill as Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, and Ron stacked up behind him.

"Your sister is sick, and if you make her cry, she will not be the only one wailing!"

An adult Charlie knelt in front of a fireplace with Bill's head floating in emerald flames.

"If Voldemort ever comes back—if he comes out in the open—"

"We'll get him," Charlie promised. "We'll make him pay."

"He made Ginny cry," Bill said.

"Never again. She's our baby sister."

Five men sat on a roof at night as a teenage Harry stood among them.

"Are we going to do this every summer?"

"Sit down, Harry," Bill said pleasantly.

Harry crossed his arms and remained standing. "If this is about Ginny—"

"You know, Harry," George said, "you've spent enough time at the Burrow over the last six years to know most of the house rules."

"Don't leave wet towels lying in the bathroom," Percy offered.

"No fighting in the house," Charlie said.

"If you eat the last of something, write it on the shopping list," Ron said.

"I know all that," Harry said.

"But for the last sixteen, almost seventeen years, there's really only been one important rule in the Weasley family," Bill said.

"What's that?"

Charlie joined all of his brothers as they quoted it together. "Don't make Ginny cry."

"That's still true, Potter," Charlie called down the table.

"Tell it to Gwenog," Harry retorted as the scene on the wall changed again.

Why I Moved to Romania by Charlie Weasley

Ginny, Ron, Fred, and George sat on Ginny's bed with an almost-grown Charlie in a chair beside it and several books on his lap.

"Harry Potter."

"Ginny, I read The Boy Who Lived last night," Charlie protested.

"And the night before that—" Fred said.

"And the night before that!" George said.

"I want Babbity Rabitty," Ron said.

"Harry Potter," Ginny said.

"No!" her brothers shouted.

Ginny's face crumpled and her lower lip turned out ever so slightly.

"Okay, okay," Charlie said hastily. "How about your favorite story from Beedle, hmm? 'The Fountain of Fair Fortune'?"

"Harry Potter."

Fred and George groaned.

"Let's read something different tonight, and you can read Harry Potter yourself," Charlie said. "I'll charm the door for you so Mum won't see your light on."

"Read it?" Ron muttered. "She has it memorized."

In a red plaid flannel nightdress that clashed horribly with the ginger plaits over her shoulders, Ginny looked directly at Charlie and said, "Bill always read me Harry Potter."

Charlie sighed. "It would be worth moving to Egypt just to not have to read that stupid story ever again." But he shuffled through the stack and pulled out a book with a dark-haired baby on the cover. "'Not so long ago, and not very far away, lived a boy by the name of Harry Potter….' "

Ginny had slunk down in her chair as much as her wedding dress allowed, one hand over her red face and the other making a rude gesture in the direction of her second-oldest brother. Only when the picture darkened to the scarlet background that preceded each memory did she drop her hand to see what was next.