A hush fell over the crowd as they saw both names on the next screen. Ginny shot a glance at George, but he stared straight ahead.
Ginny Makes the Best Co-Conspirator by Fred and George Weasley
Four children stood in the center of a completely trashed kitchen. Flour covered every surface, egg dripped from the ceiling and the table, a trail of cooking oil spread from a puddle between the twins to the cupboard (where Mrs. Weasley's potions cabinet had several open drawers), and clumps of dough dotted Ginny's hair and Ron's eyelashes. Fred and George looked at each other.
"Not the reaction we were expecting," Fred said.
The kitchen door opened. "Boys!" Mr. Weasley said, clearly by reflex, before stopping short and staring around the room in amazement. "What in Godric's name—"
"It was an accident, Daddy," Ginny said quickly, stepping forward.
"An accident of what, exactly?" Mr. Weasley crossed his arms and glared at the twins.
Fred and George looked at each other, trying to determine who had the best lie, while Ron simply looked guilty.
"A cake. We were baking a cake for Mummy's birthday," Ginny said. "We know we're not s'pos'd to use the oven, so we thought if we used our magic, all four of us, it would be enough to cook the cake. But it 'sploded instead."
Mr. Weasley raised his eyebrows. "Your mother's birthday is not until next month."
"We know," Ginny said. "We wanted to practice, so it would be perfect on her birthday. We need practice, Daddy." She looked up at her father with earnest brown eyes.
Mr. Weasley dropped his arms, sighed, and pulled out his wand. "That you do, sunshine."
The kitchen faded to black and a picture reformed of a torch-lit stone corridor, easily identifiable as somewhere in Hogwarts.
Two ginger boys walked briskly away from the camera.
"Misters Weasley!"
A round of laughter rose from the audience as everyone recognized the crisp voice of Professor Minerva McGonagall.
Fred and George turned, revealing the small frame of their sister between them.
"And Miss Weasley," McGonagall amended. "What are the three of you doing outside Gryffindor Tower after curfew?"
"It's my fault, Professor," Ginny said, shifting the books in her arms. "I got lost coming back from the library, and when Fred and George noticed I wasn't in the Tower, they came looking for me."
"She's just a first-year, Professor," Fred said. "You know what the castle is like, with the portraits moving around all the time."
"Nearly impossible to find a fixed landmark, it is," George added.
"I'm sorry, Professor," Ginny said. "Please don't take points from Gryffindor when they were just trying to help me."
"Straight back to the Tower this instant," McGonagall said. "And if I catch you two out after curfew again, it will be points and a detention, sister or no."
"Yes, Professor," George said.
"Thank you, Professor McGonagall," Ginny said.
"Cheers, Professor," Fred said.
"Now!"
The three siblings moved silently towards Gryffindor Tower until they turned a corner and McGonagall was out of sight.
"Nice save, Ginny," George said.
"It's not a save yet," Fred said. "As soon as McGonagall finds out Filch's office was booby-trapped, we'll be her first suspects."
"No, you won't," Ginny said. "That corridor is on a direct path from the library to Gryffindor Tower, but if you were coming from Filch's office, the fastest route is to take the shortcut on the north side of the castle. She can't suspect you because she's your alibi."
Fred and George stopped, staring at Ginny with new respect.
"You know, Forge, we might need to take Ginny with us on these excursions more often."
"I was thinking that very thing, Gred."
"And you two didn't want me to bring any books," Ginny scoffed, then continued walking. "I accept payment in the form of chocolate, coins, and completed essays."
Another fade to black, followed by the appearance of Ginny, Fred, and George in a parlor-turned-bedroom. Ginny looked about five years older, and George was missing an ear.
At the sound of footsteps and voices, the twins froze, Fred's wand still in his cauldron and George's quill poised over an invoice, but Ginny leapt up from the sofa and went into the hallway. Her voice drifted through the door she closed behind her.
"Auntie, there you are. Tell me again, is it fourteen or fifteen generations since the last Weasley girl? I forget."
A muffled thumping noise that sounded like a cane on a heavy rug carried through the door. "You are the first Weasley girl in eleven generations, Ginevra. I've told you this countless times. I'm going to die, sooner rather than later if your fiendish brothers have any say in the matter—"
Fred and George grinned and nodded at each other.
"And no one is going to remember anything. The Weasleys will die out—"
"I have six brothers, Auntie. I don't think—"
"Six unmarried brothers," Auntie Muriel corrected her. "A wizard must marry and beget children in order to—"
The voices faded in volume, but Ginny's was still audible as she interrupted the old woman. "Eleven generations—is that eleven generations before me, or am I number eleven?"
Auntie Muriel's reply was indistinguishable except for the aggrieved tone.
"Ginny will keep her busy for a while," George said, scribbling his signature and folding the invoice into a box as Fred decanted the potion into vials.
Ginny Gets Away With Everything by Fred and George Weasley
A pigtailed Ginny stretched her little hands towards the biscuit tin. "Higher, Fred, I can't reach it."
Fred shifted on George's shoulders, George stepped closer to the cupboard, and Ginny touched the red-and-green tin. "Just—a little—more—"
Ginny, who had been sitting on Fred's shoulders, grabbed a hank of his hair and stood up.
"Ow!"
"Shh!"
"I've got it!"
"Careful," George said, backing away slowly. "Don't drop it."
"Don't drop me," Ginny retorted, skinny arms wrapped around the heavy ceramic and one hand securing the lid. Fred's hands wrapped round her sock-clad ankles held her in place.
She scrambled onto the table, and Fred jumped down from George's shoulders. They had just taken a biscuit each when Charlie walked into the kitchen.
"What are you lot doing?"
"Chawlie!" Ginny said in delight. "Up!" She raised both hands over her head, biscuit hidden in her grip.
Harry snorted at the sudden return of baby talk and sent a pointed glance in Charlie's direction.
Charlie picked her up at once, but before he could scold the twins, Ginny pointed at the biscuit in Fred's hand.
"Mine!"
"It is not!"
"Really, Fred," Charlie said disapprovingly, snatching the biscuit from Fred's hand and offering it to Ginny, who crammed it into her mouth in its entirety. "Taking biscuits from a baby."
Fred's face screwed up in indignation. "I didn't! She—"
"Enough," Charlie said, putting the lid on the tin and returning it to the shelf. "If you're going to sneak biscuits, the least you can do is share."
Ginny, her original biscuit still tightly clutched in the hand behind Charlie's back, laid her head on Charlie's shoulder and looked up at him with an adorable, wide-eyed expression. "Tank-oo, Chawlie," she said sweetly, and he visibly softened.
Harry was laughing hard now, even as Charlie looked sheepish, Hermione scandalized, and Ron resigned.
Charlie brushed some crumbs from her face. Ginny popped the last of her own biscuit into her mouth and smiled widely at Fred, one little foot extending to poke him playfully in the shoulder, and the indignation on Fred's face slowly drained away. He grabbed her foot and began tickling it, laughing with her as Ginny's high-pitched giggles filled the air. Charlie played along, alternately pulling Ginny away from the twins and turning so she was within their reach, and all four of them laughed freely as the scene faded to black.
Brothers Are No Match for Bun-Bun by Fred and George Weasley
One small boy stood over the bed of another. A baby cried in the background.
"George! George, wake up!" Fred reached out and shook his shoulder. "Wake up, George, it's Gin-Gin!"
"Huh? What?"
"It's Gin-Gin. She's crying."
George rolled over. "Mum'll get her."
"No, she won't," Fred said, shoving both hands into his brother's back so he couldn't get comfortable. "I heard her telling Dad it was time for Ginny to learn to sleep by herself. She's all alone in there and she's scared. Can't you hear her?"
"'s nighttime, Freddie. We're s'posed to be asleep."
"So is Ginny," Fred retorted. "Come on, George!"
Fred pulled and tugged, and finally two long shadows, much bigger than their owners, crept out of the room, down the stairs, and opened a door. The noise intensified significantly.
"Shh, Gin-Gin, it's okay," Fred whispered.
Softly glowing stars on the ceiling revealed a baby girl in footie pajamas standing at the side of her cot, face glistening with snot and tears. Ginny's cries settled into snuffling when she spotted her brothers. Taking her fingers out of her mouth, she wrapped her hands around the slats and pressed her face close to them. Fred placed his hands over hers as he and George studied the cot with unusually serious expressions.
"How are we going to get her out?" Fred said, looking up at the top of the rail, which was well above their heads.
"I don't think we can," George whispered back. "It's too high."
At the failure of her situation to change despite the arrival of two brothers, Ginny shook the rail and began fussing again.
Fred and George reached through the slats and patted her.
"It's okay, Gin-Gin, we're not going to leave you alone. Can you climb out? Like this, see?" Fred raised one foot to the mattress. Ginny paused her crying to watch her brother's strange behavior but made no attempt to imitate him.
"Just lift up one foot—" George grasped one pajama-covered foot and pulled, but Ginny promptly sat on her bum and scowled at him. "It's no good, Fred. She doesn't understand."
"We'll have to climb in, then," Fred said decisively.
George knelt down without discussion, and Fred climbed onto his back. Ginny squealed as Fred threw one leg into the crib and clapped her hands when Fred pulled George off the dresser with a thump that bounced all three children.
"Bun-bun."
"What?"
"Bun-bun," Ginny repeated. When her brothers simply stared at her, Ginny raised her voice and pointed for emphasis. "Bun-bun!"
Fred and George turned in unison, spotting a stuffed rabbit halfway across the room, well out of their reach.
"Bun-bun's asleep, Ginny," George said. "Like we should be, right now." He laid down beside her, closing his eyes and making snoring noises, but Ginny pulled herself up on the rail.
"Bun. Bun," she said, firmly and clearly.
"No Bun-bun, Gin-Gin," Fred said. "Me and George are going to sleep with you instead! That will be fun, yeah?" He smiled brightly at her.
Ginny looked from her stuffed animal to her brothers and her expression crumpled. "No Bun-bun?"
Fred and George looked at each other. Ginny sucked on her fingers and waited.
Fred sighed. "I'll do it."
Ginny watched with anxious eyes as Fred climbed out of the cot onto the dresser, stepped down onto the corner of an open drawer, and crossed the room. He lobbed the rabbit over the rail and she hugged the animal tightly, smearing it with snot. Beaming, Ginny babbled at Fred as he flopped into the cot, which squeaked ominously.
"Can we please go to sleep now?" George said.
He and Fred lay down and Ginny copied them, wiggling herself in between, one arm around Bun-bun and the other around Fred, who dropped a kiss on her head.
"Night-night, Gin-Gin."
Adult Ginny was in tears. She got up, pulled George into a standing position, and hugged him fiercely.
"Thank you. Thank you for choosing memories of him."
George returned the hug with his head bent close to hers. "He was so proud of you. Even before you brought the Chosen One into the family."
Ginny punched his shoulder. "I love you," she said.
"I know. Otherwise you wouldn't have hit me so hard." He smirked, and Ginny punched him again, ignoring the fact that his smile didn't reach his eyes.