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Author's Note: While the historic roots of any perceived Anglo-French rivalry are complex and nuanced, the Weasley boys have a different take. Since this perspective falls into the lesser-nuanced category of "my school rules, your school sucks, neiner-neiner-neiner," it is my hope that everyone here understands that the views of the Weasley brothers do not reflect the views of the author. In fact, I spoke with the Weasley boys after we finished writing this chapter, and they did admit (under some duress) that none of them have actually ever met a real-live French person. I hope that is obvious from the text.
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Canvas made terrible walls.
Muffled conversation poked at her, demanding she wake from her horrible sweat nap.
With the taste of her Mum's scourgify charm still in her mouth, Ginny rolled over and wiped the moisture off her forehead. Disoriented, Ginny took in the dull orange glow on the outer canvas wall and her sticky t-shirt. She had a brief moment of panic when she realized she must have dozed off and lost part of the day.
However, the sweat reminded her she was in Egypt. The muffled conversation on the other side of the canvas was brother-sounding and not terror-filled scream-sounding, so Ginny figured she hadn't petrified, maimed, or murdered anyone.
Her books were beside her on her camp bed, and the heavy sounds from the outer room meant her brothers had returned from their pick-up Quidditch game. In typical brother-like fashion, they were stomping about like a herd of erumpents because they were inconsiderate Quidditch-playing wankers who didn't think twice about waking their sister from a rare dream-free sleep.
Ginny sat up, glaring at the closed flap. The canvas flap her Mum had charmed closed. Her Mum who didn't care if Ginny died of heat stroke as long as she didn't use any swear words on her death bed. The canvas flap that did nothing to block the sounds of brothers.
She wouldn't even bother to yell at them. It was futile. Ginny would sit and sweat behind the canvas non-wall until they went away, even if it took all vacation. She didn't want to be on vacation anyway because her brothers were Quidditch-playing losers and her mouth tasted like soapy socks.
So, sitting up, Ginny yanked her transfiguration book off the floor and deliberately ignored the conversation taking place on the other side of the thin fabric. The boys were all talking over each other, her Mum making hushing sounds followed by some sort of frantic bustle around the tent.
Then, there was silence.
Great, Ginny mentally huffed.
The only thing worse than brothers hanging out in the tent was brothers leaving her alone in the tent.
Ginny blew a sweaty strand of hair out of her face and read the same paragraph for the fourth time. The dull orange glow of the sunset on the canvas was fading, and she wouldn't be able to read much longer without light.
She missed her wand. She had made her Dad hide it somewhere at the Burrow, so she wouldn't lose time to find she had Avada'd some chickens or something.
Fred and George thought she was mental, having Dad hide her wand.
But Ginny didn't care what they thought, because they were brothers and therefore it didn't matter because even though they might, upon occasion, once in a blue fairy moon, be sweet or say something that could be construed by people without a refined sense of humor to be mildly amusing in a stupid-fart-joke sort of manner, they were still complete and utter ditch-our-sister-for-Quidditch gits.
She hoped every last one of them forgot their sunscreen charm and under the beating desert sun their ginger skin sizzled and morphed into one huge fat continuous sunburned freckle.
Before she could finish imagining all the terrible things that could happen to brothers in the desert, the canvas flap opened, and Ginny realized they hadn't left her alone after all.
It was Charlie's smiling face that poked through. Ginny noted it was the pinkish color of an Auntie Muriel ginger, and not the lobster red of an idiot who forgot a sun block charm.
Pity.
"What do you want?" Ginny snapped.
Charlie ignored her get-out-you-stupid-brother tone. Instead of running away like any sane person with a sense of self-preservation, he dipped his head further into her tiny corner and smirked. "I have something for you."
Ginny growled at him. "Let me guess, a pink broom? Oh wait, if you had a pink broom for me, maybe I would have been invited to Quidditch, too."
Rather than being offended, Charlie's grin widened. "I come in peace," Charlie put his hands up by his shoulders, showing he was unarmed.
Though, he winced and rolled his right one as if it pained him.
Which, Ginny figured, is what a wanker gets when a wanker chooses to play Quidditch with Percy. Percy had power, but no aim. The family once had a scarecrow by the garden until Percy accidentally decapitated him with a Quaffle.
Your brothers shouldn't ignore you, Ginevra.
In her mind's eye she could almost see the words printed in elegant writing.
For just a tiny, tiny instant, Ginny was overcome with a sense of loss.
Her fingers twitched as if they were holding a quill.
You'll never meet anyone who listens, who understands you, better.
No.
Well… maybe.
Missing having someone to talk to was different than missing Tom.
It was.
Is it?
Wasn't it?
Stupid little girl.
A folding chair sat in front of a small worktable at the foot of Ginny's camp bed. With one arm still raised, Charlie slowly pulled the chair toward him. Keeping an eye on Ginny, he rotated it and straddled it backward, his arms crossed over the top.
He stared at her for a moment, not saying anything.
Ginny shook off her memories of the diary and forced herself to deal with the immediate issue of Annoying Brother.
She glared at him.
He tilted his head to the side, wearing a "Charlie is puzzled" expression.
Ginny rolled her eyes and huffed, "What?"
He didn't say anything as he peered at her. Then, after a moment, he nodded studiously. "Right. I get it now."
"Get what now?" Ginny growled.
For some reason that made Charlie shake his head and start to chuckle. "It all makes sense. And, by the way, we weren't playing Quidditch. You want it or not?"
"Want what? And what do you mean you weren't playing Quidditch? Bill said you were playing Quidditch!"
"That was just for Mum and Dad. Code of Silence. So, you want it?"
"No!" Ginny yelled. She wanted to know what they were doing she wasn't invited to, if it wasn't Quidditch.
But also, she did want to know what he had for her. So she narrowed her eyes at him. "What is it?"
Charlie grinned, and reached behind him, drawing a vial out of his back pocket. He lifted the small pink potion up by his face and wagged his brows. "Made it myself."
Unbelievable. "It's. Pink."
Charlie shrugged. "Complete coincidence."
"Right."
"Really. That's just the way it comes. This time you can blame Bill. His recipe, but I brew it better. More practice."
"Do you honestly think I'm going to drink anything prepared by one of my brothers?"
"Neither Fred nor George were allowed within ten feet of the cauldron."
"As guaranteed by you?"
"Bill. Twin-proof ward."
"Doesn't matter." Ginny threw her hands up in the air and stood. "Bill? Took you all somewhere, excluded me. Bill's no longer Best Brother."
With a look of glee, Charlie twisted around in his chair. He stuck his head back out into the main tent and called, "You hear that? Bill's no longer Best Brother."
A bunch of voices wafted through the small opening in the canvas flap.
"-streak over!"
"-job's open?"
"-seniority goes to Charlie-"
"- odds are already three to one Charlie gets hexed-"
"-dark horse? Percy?-"
"-unwise to discount Ron. Has coveted inside access to Harry Potter-"
"Shut it, you gits!" Ginny yelled. Then her gaze snapped back to Charlie. "I don't want it. That vile vial could be anything."
"It could." Charlie shrugged, as if he had all the time in the world. "I might even tell you what the vile vial contains when you're done sulking."
"When I'm done sulking?" she screeched. The soft buzz of voices from the other side of the canvas hushed. Her fingers twitched, feeling empty without her wand.
Charlie threw back his head and laughed. "It's amazing. I completely understand now."
"Understand what?" Jelly-legs jinx was the only decent jinx she knew. Even if she had her wand, it would have been pointless to curse him with it. He was already sitting down.
Maybe they'd teach better hexes in fucking France.
Seemingly unconcerned with Ginny's vicious thoughts, Charlie put his chin in his hand. He leaned forward over the back of the chair, studying her again with a pensive look on his face. "They're not wrong. You should be hexing me, which would win me a knut or two. So why aren't you hexing me?"
"Because I gave away my wand, you prat!"
For the second time that day, she regretted it. It was such an easy decision at the time. A relief. She hadn't wanted the power to hurt anyone else.
with a sudden crack, her wrists twisted, and the animal went limp.
she felt the smile stretch across her face.
Ginny jerked, the sensory memory in her palms.
"I don't want to hurt anyone."
Charlie's gaze was steady. After studying her face for another moment, and another, and another, he shrugged. He held up the vial again in front of her face. "You do want this. Want to know why?"
"No, I don't." And just like that, she was back in Egypt. Away from her waking nightmares fully of bloody chickens and monster snakes. "Fine. I do a little bit."
Abandoned his teasing persona, Charlie shook the vial. "This? This magic in a bottle is the Top Secret Unauthorized Weasley Anti-Scourgify potion."
Oh. Oooooooooooh.
Well, damn. Underneath the soapy taste, her tongue felt like it had fuzz growing on it. Ginny could have lunged at the vial and quaffed it, but she didn't want to encourage Charlie's smugness.
So, she tried to play it cool. "A what potion?"
Charlie invented playing it cool. "You heard me."
"There's an Weasley Anti-Scourgify potion?" She almost whimpered.
"Guaranteed to wipe that taste out of your mouth instantly."
"The soapy woolen sock taste?"
"With underlying notes of rancid olive oil and pine?" Charlie nodded sagely. Then, reaching into his arm holster for his wand, he stood.
He wiped some smear of red off his knuckles as he held his wand in one hand and the vial in the other. "You are not the first Weasley to get a mouthful of Mum's scourgify charm."
"I'd like to say for the record that I don't think scourgify was meant be used in that manner." Ginny grumbled, hoping she could somehow convince him to hand over that potion without having to beg. "There ought to be a law. That woman-"
"-our mother? That woman?"
"Yes. That woman should be in Azkaban with all of the other vicious criminals."
"Imagine how clean that prison would be."
"All those Death Eaters, in matching sweaters."
"Just counting the days until Shepherd Pie night."
"So…." She had buttered him up, reminded him of their shared blood, made him nostalgic and malleable. Now, Ginny tried to act like his answer wouldn't matter. "Are you going to give that to me?"
"This? This heaven-sent vial perfectly brewed by an angel of mercy?"
"Are you seriously comparing yourself to an angel?" Ginny demanded, abandoning the 'butter-him-up' strategy.
"If you want this, and trust me, you really do, you'll answer one question." He held the vial up in the air over her head and waggled his brows at her.
She gave up playing it cool. She jumped for it.
However, despite being the from the stocky Prewett side of the family, Charlie was still much taller than she was. He twirled it a bit in the air. "Who's the best brother?"
Cries of foul play echoed through the flap from the other side.
"The best brother," she said, leaping again for it. "Is the one who's been jinxed and is begging for mercy."
While still holding the vial in the air, Charlie deftly flipped his wand over in his other hand. He held it out to her, handle first. "Tell you what: I'll let you get one spell out. Just one. If you're really that annoyed, you can hex me."
"I'm that annoyed," Ginny spat.
"Or," Charlie grinned, as she jumped again. "You could choose to display wisdom and self-moderation beyond your years and use your one spell to float the vial to you. Just say 'thank you, Best Brother who is better than Bill' and swish and flick."
Another cry from the other room. "It's leviosa! Not Levio-SA!"
"Ignore the eavesdroppers and imagine the sense of awe and gratitude - gratitude to the New Official Best Brother Better Than Bill - gratitude that will replace the taste of socks, rancid oil, trees and a hint of asparagus."
Ewww. Merlin, he was right. There was a hint of asparagus.
Ginny glanced down at the wand.
She hadn't cast a spell on purpose since Hogwarts.
Charlie probably knew this, because no one in her stupid family could keep their mouths shut and their noses out of anyone else's business.
Did he think she was incapable of doing either spell?
"Tick tock, Ginny Gin-Gin. Hex the brother or snag the potion?"
Her narrowed gaze shifted to the potion.
To Charlie.
To the wand.
She was extremely aware of the taste in her mouth.
It was truly, truly vile.
There was really no choice. "Fine," Ginny grumbled. She snatched the wand and pointed it at the vial.
Then she dipped it and cast the Jelly-Legs jinx on Charlie. Next, she poked his wand up into his left armpit where he was most ticklish and when the potion fell from his hand she dove after it like it was a golden snitch and she had the reflexes of Harry Perfect Potter.
Who was so much a better Seeker than her stupid git brother.
Even though Quidditch was for Losers.
She downed the whole potion before Charlie stopped laughing.
Now, Ginny knew, from a lifetime of experience, that securing the win often depended upon the timing of one's exit.
She ducked under his arm. Before he could remember he was a brother and therefore obligated to retaliate, she yanked open the flap that separated her small annex from the rest of the tent and bolted out.
Only to stop short when she caught sight of her siblings. All of them were stationed around a table that hadn't been there upon the family's arrival.
Fred threw his arms up in the air. "Six minutes, thirty-seven seconds!"
Percy couldn't be seen behind a scroll, but his voice carried throughout the tent. "Let's see here, George is out at five minutes twelve seconds- I told you that was ridiculously optimistic - so the closest call was Bill at seven minutes even."
A bunch of groans rang out around the table as the clang of knuts exchanged hands.
Fred craned his neck to see behind Ginny. "Did Charlie get hexed?"
Charlie, who had followed her out and stood behind her, nodded. "Yep."
Another bunch of coins exchanged hands and Percy held up a finger above his scroll. "Don't forget Charlie gets a thirty-four percent tithe for managing the extraction on the first try."
"The Ginny Whisperer, that's what he is."
"Should be a marketable skill, somehow. Shame."
"So true."
Ginny stared at them all, not because they were rude, awful and insane, but because they looked…
…well, they looked like each and every one of them had lost a brawl with a troll.
The tent was lit from the corners with flickering lights in the evening dusk. Her parents were nowhere to be seen, yet dinner had been served. Delivered unnoticed as she napped, the lovely table was set with a forest of candles. Serving dishes emitted delicious exotic scents.
And all that luxury stood in contrast to her brothers, who were filthy, bruised and beaten up.
Percy, near the end of the table, rolled up his scroll. Then he tilted his head back and pinched his nose, which was bleeding sluggishly.
Charlie, who had sidled beside Ginny, rolled his shoulder again, flexing the fingers above his right fist. That was when Ginny put two and two together and realized that the red smear she had spied on his knuckles had been blood.
Her eyes bugged. She had never seen Percy injured. Covered in feathers, yes, (courtesy of Fred and George) but bloody? "Percy, what the-"
He tilted his head further, making it look like it could wobble off his shoulders any moment. "Code of Silence," he shrugged, not making eye contact with her.
Ron stood next to him, wearing an irritated expression as he rubbed his backside. He huffed when he saw her. "I don't know why I'm in trouble," he grumbled. "It's not as if I didn't jump into ancient sewage pipes-"
Before she could ask what sort of trouble he was in, Bill appeared over his shoulder and literally picked up Ron by the back of his trousers. Ron started to squeal. "Ow! Wedgey! Not fair! Not-"
"Code of Silence," Bill said calmly, dropping Ron onto one of the dining chairs. Ginny figured he landed right square on what was obviously a sore arse given his howling. "What-"
Ron huffed, rolling his eyes at Ginny. "Code of Silence," he sighed, drawing himself back up to his feet, wincing as he began to rub his backside again.
Bill, who managed to escape whatever had happened that injured everyone, nodded cheerfully at Ginny. He stood behind the chair at the head of the table.
Fred and George waved at her from their seats, both sporting matching bruises around an eye. She had seen enough of her brother's shiners over the years to know they'd have matching black eyes by morning.
Ginny sprang forward, ignoring the dinner table. "Stop with the Code rubbish, what hap-"
Fred and George glanced at Bill, then picked up their water goblets and toasted her. "Code of Silence," they replied, merrily.
Ginny's horrified gaze flitted from one brother to another. Bloody hell, they looked awful.
"Code of Silence, what the-" Ginny huffed, irritated that again, she was being left out. Knowing they wouldn't tell her a bloody thing, Ginny glared at Bill. "Where are Mum and Dad?"
"We decided on a working dinner." Bill had drawn his wand. With a few motions, he conjured up a full, brightly lit blackboard that took up almost an entire third of the tent. "So I sent Mum and Dad on a romantic dinner barge."
"It was good for her nerves-" Fred piped up.
"Our dear Mum was a bit distraught after our, uh-"
"Quidditch accident," half a dozen brotherly voices replied in unison before a chorus of snickers erupted around the table.
"Quidditch. Accident." Ginny repeated slowly, not believing it for a moment. She crossed her arms and stared Bill down.
Bill shrugged at her.
Fred and George shook their heads. "Tragic Quidditch Accident."
"Heartbreaking."
"Those brooms are defective," Bill smirked, grabbing a stack of dinner plates before folding himself down at the table. Taking a dish off the top, he passed the stack around the rest of the table. "Probably why Egypt hasn't won a world cup since the 1600s."
Charlie moved to the table, plunked himself next to Bill, picked up a plate and started dishing up food. "I think it was the 1400s. They made the finals in the 1600s but couldn't pull off the win. Bamia, Ginny?" he asked offhand, dishing up a bowl of some kind of stew and putting it on the plate. However, instead of putting it in front of himself, he placed it in front of an empty seat, which Ginny assumed was meant for her.
He didn't dish up his own food, and when Ron reached out to grab a roll, Charlie thwapped his hand. "Ow! What did you do that f-"
The motion around the table ceased, everyone staring at Charlie. Then to Ginny. Then back to Charlie.
Charlie, however, did not acknowledge the silence, and gestured to the plate. "Ginny? Food will wipe out the potion aftertaste. Bamia's good, but we can find you something else if you'd prefer something less spicy."
She narrowed her eyes at him. "Is Bamia a Hippogriff? Because if any single one of you spent half a moment on a broom, I'll eat a hippogriff. What were you all-"
"The Code's the code," Charlie said simply. Then he turned to Bill, who had somehow managed to snag a dinner roll while everyone else was looking at Ron and frowned at him.
Charlie reached over, snatched Bill's half-eaten dinner roll out of his hand, and placed it on the small dish next to Ginny's plate.
Bill raised an eyebrow at Charlie.
Charlie leaned back in his chair, arms crossed.
"What we are currently witnessing," Fred whispered, as if he were commentating a penalty shot in a Quidditch Match, "is the struggle for supremacy-"
"-having heard the coveted position of Best Brother is newly available-"
"-the second Weasley brother makes his move-"
"Oh, for Merlin's sake!" Ginny yelled. "Charlie, why the fuck-"
The table all oooooooooohed as one.
"-are you giving me Bill's leftovers?"
Charlie ignored her swearing. He looked at her as if she were the one who had gone completely mental. "Obviously, it's because Norwegian Ridgeback males chew up food, and then regurgitate it for the pregnant females to consume before they lay their eggs."
"Obviously," George snickered.
"Does anyone else object to this on principle?" Percy inquired.
"I do!" Ginny wrinkled her nose. "Two reasons. One: Ewwww. Two: Not pregnant."
Bill nodded. "And since you won't date before you're fifty-"
"-you never will be," six voices droned in unison.
Charlie snickered and pushed the plate closer to her. The room quieted as he stared her down. "It's a sign of respect."
"If you're a bloody dragon," Ginny snarked.
Charlie only shrugged and waited, as if he hadn't a care in the world.
Fred and George snickered, exchanged glances, quaffed half the contents of their goblets. Then, they swished and spit the liquid back out into the empty goblet placed in front of Ginny's unoccupied seat.
Ginny closed her eyes in weary disgust as the boys in the room guffawed.
Finally, Ron had enough. "I'm starving, Ginny! Can you just sit down already, so we can eat?"
To everyone's surprise, the goblet Fred and George just spit in shot up from the table. It wobbled in the air for just a moment, before it lurched toward Ron and dumped its spitty contents over his head.
At first, most of the eyes in the room snapped to Fred and George. However, the twins look of surprise baffled everyone else but Ron, who was sputtering and yelling. Soon, every eye in the room slowly… oh so slow…shifted toward Ginny.
Who abruptly shut her eyes so she wouldn't have to look at any of them.
Oh, Merlin. She had bloody done it again with the accidental magic like a leaky toddler.
To her shame, there was no hiding it. It wasn't like the gate at Auntie Muriel's she had broken without witnesses. This time, everyone saw, everyone knew. She was completely, utterly, without control. "Fuck," she whispered.
This time, not a single brother commented about her language.
Bloody hell.
Humiliated, Ginny stared down at the only empty chair. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to," she forced her lips together tightly, to keep them from quivering.
First it was yelling at her Dad. Now it was… Ron was…
How long could she keep mentally calling them all gits, when the problem was her?
What have you done, Ginevra?
"I'm sorry," she whispered again.
"Ginny?" Bill said softly. After a moment, when she was sure she wasn't going to cry, she turned to look at him.
Because he was Bill, Former Best Brother, he didn't look at her with pity or condescension or worse, amusement. He just looked at her steadily. "You're angry with us. It's alright."
"I'm not angry with you," Ginny retorted automatically.
"Course not," George muttered.
"You've barely said a word to us all summer," Fred said.
"Perfectly normal for someone who spent the first decade of her life-"
"-chatting non-stop-"
"-to brothers-"
"-parents-"
"-garden gnomes-"
"-trees-"
"-and that stick you painted eyeballs on-"
"-pretending it was a wand-"
"-you named Mortimer."
Ginny huffed. "I'm. Not. Angry."
"Right. Because why'd you be angry?" Fred replied.
"Just because none of us noticed-"
"-you were getting your soul sucked out-"
"-by He-Who-Must-"
Bill cleared his throat and shook his head at the twins, who deferred to the eldest and snapped their mouths shut.
The room was silent again.
"I don't want to hurt anyone."
She wasn't just talking about the accidental magic with Ron and the goblet. They all knew it.
"You haven't," Bill replied, firmly.
Still, Ginny spared a sidelong glance at Ron. "Ron is covered in Fred and George spit. That's got to hurt a bit."
Bill didn't crack a smile. "A little spit never hurt anyone."
"Peruvian Vipertooths have a corrosive spit they use to start the digestive process on their prey before ingesting them," Charlie muttered.
"Fred and George aren't Peruvian Vipertooths," Bill pointed out.
"Fred and George aren't," Charlie said pointedly. Then he took another dinner roll, a fresh one this time, and very carefully placed it on Ginny's dish next to the half-eaten one.
"Ginevra," Percy said pompously, although if she were being fair, it was little less pompous than usual. "Please sit down so we can eat and bring this meeting to order." He sighed in Ron's direction and performed a quick cleaning charm. "Obviously, we are waiting on you."
Ginny didn't move. "Am I the reason you all beat each other up? I'm not stupid. Bruised knuckles, shiners, bloody nose? Not Quidditch injuries."
"Code of Silence," the table muttered again.
"If anyone should have a shiner, it's me. I'm the one who sicced a basilisk on unsuspecting students."
"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is the one-"
"And Sir Nicholas." Ginny reminded.
"That's-"
"And a cat."
"It was-"
"And Percy's girlfriend."
One could have heard a pin drop all the way back at the Burrow.
Five heads, slowly, oh-so-slowly, turned toward Percy, who glared at Ginny.
"Sorry," she mouthed.
"Seriously, Perce?" smirked Charlie.
"Does she know you alphabetize your pants by color?"
"Have Mum and Dad given you The Talk, yet?"
Ron's head lifted up. "When a boy and a girl love each other," he began, helpfully.
This time, Percy was the one who dumped the goblet of liquid over Ron's head. However, because he was Percy, while Ron was sputtering and the brothers were laughing, he also performed the charm to clean it up. Perfectly.
Ron was unamused. "Does anyone else want to dump-"
Fred and George raised their hands.
"Never mind," Ron muttered. "Ginny, we're still starving."
Bill stood up. In a gentlemanly-like manner, he pulled her chair out for her. Pointedly. "Will you please sit down?"
Ginny didn't move.
Charlie rolled his eyes. Then, with slow deliberation, he lifted the dinner roll basket and dumped the rest of the contents on Ginny's plate.
"Oi!" Ron objected, leaping out of his chair. "I didn't get any of those!"
He reached for a roll teetering on the edge of Ginny's plate, but Charlie thwapped his hand again.
"Those are Ginny's."
George waved his wand (because apparently there was no such restriction on underage magic while being a tourist) and Ginny's name was burnt onto each roll in the pile. She noticed with an idle sort of fascination that the one with Bill's bite in it was labelled "inny," but other than that, it was a fairly thorough claim on her behalf.
Gingerly, Ron eased back down and glared. "Better butter them for her as well, spare her elbow the cleanup," he muttered.
Any lingering guilt she may have felt at dumping spitty juice all over him fled. Ginny wondered which of her brothers had literally kicked his arse, and what bribe would work to make it happen a second time.
Ron, however, was oblivious. "Seriously, Ginny, can I have one?"
"No," Ginny snapped. Because he never wrote her during his first year.
"You can't possibly eat them all."
"No." Because he was supposed to sit with her on the train, and he flew Dad's car instead.
"Please?"
"No." He wouldn't share Harry Potter; she wouldn't share her rolls. Fair was fair.
And with that thought, Ginny conceded that maybe, just maybe, Bill was right.
Maybe she was carrying a drop or two of undistilled anger.
Angry at Fred and George and Percy for not noticing her last year. Angry at Bill and Charlie for not noticing she hadn't written them since Halloween.
Angry at Ron for just about everything else.
Without warning, her stomach let out a Ron-worthy rumble.
All six brothers snorted.
Fred and George made her plate of food hop up and down.
"Alright, alright," Ginny sighed. Her stomach was insisting on a time out. She may as well eat and figure out the whole Code of Silence thing later. She turned to Charlie "Bamia, you said?"
Charlie nodded and spooned another portion onto her plate.
"I've never had it before. You said it's spicy?" She lowered herself into her chair.
Bill took her napkin off the table, flipped it over his arm, and then made a show of settling it on her lap.
Ginny didn't look at him, but instead nodded in acknowledgment.
Like she was at court.
Fred and George noticed, and even though they hadn't actually eaten anything yet, they both in tandem dabbed at their own lips with their own napkins, the very height of gentlemanly behavior.
"Good," sniffed Ginny. "I love spicy. I can do spicy."
"You can give lessons in spicy," muttered Fred.
Before Ginny could start, Ron reached for his spoon, and received thwaps from George and Percy.
Charlie smirked, because apparently no one was allowed to eat until Ginny did. And Ginny decided, even though all this was weird, she could get used to it.
Ginny, her eyes on Ron, picked up one of her dinner rolls, brought it to her nose, smelled it, and then set it back down.
Wickedly, she smiled at Ron. Pretended to reach for another roll. Drew her hand back again.
Three more times.
Ron had had enough. "Aren't you going to share those?"
Ginny pretended to think about it. "No. No, I don't believe I will. They're mine." She pretended to read the writing on one and then held it out to show him. "See? It has my name on it. Oh look! They allllll have my name on it. Fancy that."
Everyone at the table who possessed a sense of humor began to snicker, Ron looked confused, and Ginny smirked some more. However, the Weasley appetite could only be suspended for so long. Dishes began to pass to and fro, and Ginny made a big show of taking a bite.
Once she had, everyone else began to tuck in.
"Finally," George breathed.
Finally.
For a few minutes, despite being in a foreign country, despite her parents being off on a romantic barge (and she didn't want to think about what grossness occurred on a romantic barge) she felt… normal.
One of them belched because her Mum wasn't there to chide whoever did it.
Yes. Perfectly normal.
"You know, Gin," Charlie pointed his spoon at her, as he dished up something that looked like green ooze. "Sheba won't leave the quarry anymore without her claws painted."
The subject of bruised knuckles and bloody noses and blackened eyes momentarily forgotten, Ginny brightened. "Really?" She turned to Bill and batted her eyelashes. "Bill, you must be so proud. However did you manage that most clever and amazing spell work?"
Bill snorted.
Charlie laughed.
Fred and George asked, "Who's Sheba?"
"Code of Silence," Ginny, Bill and Charlie said automatically.
The dishes paused, and everyone began to snicker again.
"Speaking of spell work," Bill said, as he floated over a fresh goblet of water for Ginny, whose eyes had started to water for an acceptable reason for once. The stew really was incredibly spicy. "That does bring us to the purpose of this parent-free dinner."
George perked up. "Extra dessert?"
"Shameless lobbying for the newly vacant best brother spot?" Fred added.
"A front-row seat to Ginny's impressively foul mouth?"
"An airing of grievances?"
"With awards?"
"Percy wins."
"Finally landing a girlfriend only to have his possessed sister petrify her for three months?"
"Right. All in favor of Percy winning?"
Five male hands shot in the air.
Percy's head dropped into his palm. Ginny spoon slammed onto her plate. "Are you gits fuck-"
Charlie's hand reached over to gently cover her mouth. "You really don't want to get into the habit. That potion is hard to brew."
"Since when," Fred shook his head sadly in her direction, "is there such thing as 'too soon?'"
"I thought the purpose of dinner was to eat," Ron whined.
Bill spooned himself another bite of the stew before he conjured Percy a blue diagonal winner's sash, lettered "Sadly Snogless." Then Bill stood, brandishing his wand toward the large blackboard.
Ginny had forgotten the thing was there. She twisted around in her seat to study it a bit closer. The blackboard began to fill with so many words it resembled one of Professor McGonagall's lesson plans.
Bill cleared his throat. "Despite the distracted attempt at repurposing this meeting of the Weasley siblings, we all have decided-"
"-unanimously-" George piped in.
"-because Ginny didn't get to vote-" Fred added.
"-after tonight's parent-free meal," Bill interjected, cutting the twin's patter off before it could truly get started. "we commence with Project Francophobe. Percy, as minute-taker, I cede the floor to you."
Percy clinked his fork against his goblet to be heard over the chatter. With an imperious air, he dabbed his bloody nose with his napkin. "Ginevra, it has come to our attention-"
"-via Bill-"
"-via Dad-"
"-via Mum-"
"-via Auntie Muriel-"
Bill lifted his hand, and in deference to the eldest brother, the patter stopped again. "-that you are being offered an opportunity to re-take your first year at Beauxbatons."
"Obviously," Percy interjected, "this is unacceptable."
It was?
"Why," she said softly, on a growl, "would you care?"
All of you at Hogwarts never noticed I was there in the first place.
"Why would any of you," she repeated for emphasis, "find that unacceptable?"
Percy nodded and flipped over his scroll. "Just a moment, I have the list of documented reasons," he mumbled and looked behind him, then under the table. "Which one of you moved the Persuasive Argument Scroll?"
"May or may not have moved the scroll." George shrugged.
"It was long." Fred offered.
"Resembled toilet paper."
"But lots of reasons," Fred said to Ginny.
Ginny was on to Fred and George's stalling tactics. "Such as?"
The table was silent, but one by one all the eyes turned towards Bill.
Finally, Charlie held up his hands to Bill in surrender and shrugged at him. "Your party, here. You explain."
Bill sighed heavily and shook his head. Then he raised his sad Former Best Brother eyes to his sister and explained gently, "Ginny, if you go to Beauxbatons, you'll come back French."
The room was silent again, as if the severity and horror of that statement needed to be observed. As if the ramifications of those uttered words sank into the very fabric of the tent.
"They'll feed you snails until you like them," Ron added, staring into his Bamia, sounding depressed. "You might even insist on them for Christmas dinner."
"You'll put on airs," Percy sniffed.
"And sip white wine-" Fred added.
"-instead of guzzling butterbeer." George finished.
"The cheese," Charlie offered, "smells like week old dragon shell shards."
"And you'll do that thing," Ron sighed, "where you laugh in your nose. It's not really a laugh it's a half-snort thing."
"You'll spend holidays-" interjected Fred.
"-taking trips to the Riviera-""
"-where you will sunbathe topless-"
"-which is fine for everyone else-"
"-anyone else-"
"-I mean a dream come true, if it were anyone else-"
"-would buy a ticket to see Anyone Else-"
"-but not you-"
"-because you're not Anyone Else-"
"-you're our sister-"
"-so you cannot be allowed to do that."
"-because you're Someone Else's Anyone Else-"
"-and we do not want Someone Else to buy a ticket for that-"
"-in fact, it's just best if you never grow breasts at all."
The twins both shivered in disgust.
Ginny stared back at her brothers in horror. And then, she turned toward Percy, unbelieving. "You literally wrote all these reasons down on a scroll you named 'Persuasive Argument Scroll'?"
"Well, I am the minute-taker," Percy sniffed.
"And then you managed to misplace it?"
"It'll turn up."
"Oh Merlin," Ginny groaned. "It'll turn up in two thousand years, uncovered by some sort of desert tomb raider and there it will be, featured in some museum, with the fourth bullet point being Ginevra Shouldn't Grow Breasts."
"No, I think the fourth bullet point was you'll pronounce croissant like it has a w in it." Charlie shuddered. "There are levels of pretention we can't have our sister exposed to."
"And you'll be too girly," Ron said, with his mouth full. "French girly. You're already girly enough."
Fred snorted. "On account of you being, you know-"
"-a girl."
"Albeit one who will never grow breasts," Ginny growled.
Charlie, who was leaning back in his chair as if he didn't have a care in the world, fished his wand out of his holster again and held it out to her.
Bill raised an eyebrow. "You're going to arm her at this point?"
Charlie shrugged. "Wand or claws."
"Keep your damned wand." Ginny was suddenly drained. Exhausted. "Everyone's sitting down. I only know the Jelly-legs jinx, so hexing you all with wobbly legs won't do much anyway" she muttered with a dejected sigh.
Bill, however, did not appreciate the confession. "You only know the Jelly-legs jinx?" he asked softly, his eyes suddenly glittering with irritation.
Ginny shrugged. She could barely manage her own anger, let alone Bill's.
With a growl, Bill turned to the blackboard, non-verbally conjured a twin of the thing. The second blackboard began filling with a list of hexes starting with Jelly-legs, and moving through ones she didn't even recognize. Then he braced his hands on the back of his chair and stared her straight in the eye. "All pithy Weasley-isms aside, you're too smart to need to retake a full year, anywhere, not just in France" he said firmly. "Not when you pick things up as fast as you do."
"I failed my classes, Bill! I don't pick up-"
"Ginny. You snuck out in the middle of the night with a stolen wand and colored the claws on a Ukrainian Ironbelly."
Ginny and Charlie's mouths dropped open. "Code of Silence!"
Bill, however, was unashamed. "When you know some better jinxes, you can hex me for breaking the Code. You not knowing more jinxes is not your failure. It is a failure of proper brothering. Does everyone at this table understand?"
Bill did not wait for a reply. He turned back to the blackboard and no one made no further comment regarding his blatant disregard for the Code. "So, we have a month to catch you up with the Grade one standard curriculum. We'll also need to toss in non-standard jinxes-"
"Mimble Wimble" Fred raised his hand.
"Calvorio" George volunteered.
"The Slug Vomit one!" Ron snapped his fingers. "Um… um…"
Ginny, who up until this point was thinking that it would serve them all right if she went away and came back French, paused.
They did care. Names of jinxes were flying, the blackboard flipped over so the second side was filling up, with names of her brothers assigned to each one.
Bill waved his wand again as another list appeared in a column on the far right. "Ginny has seven subjects, six brothers. So, we just divide up the day, rotate tutors in and out, and keep Mum and Dad busy. Charlie?"
Charlie nodded solemnly. "I'll take Herbology and the conjunctivitis curse."
A piece of chalk began writing Charlie's name next to the subject. Next to his name an asterisk appeared, and at the bottom of the blackboard a small note added, "additional floating available upon request, special skills: Care of Magical Creatures, Dragonology, Speaks Ginny with Passable Fluency, best time 6 min 37 seconds."
Bill nodded at the board. "I'll take DADA and Transfiguration. I already promised Ginny those. Who's going to take potions?"
The twins' hands went up in the air, "Potions! We call potions!"
"No!" Ginny cried, shaking her head in panic. "I'm not taking potions from them. I'll end up a dung beetle!"
Percy gazed over the rims of his glasses at the twins. "Also, they barely passed potions."
George smirked. "Those who cannot do-"
"-teach potions."
Percy shook his head. "Ginevra is not a subject upon which you're going to test your experimental concoctions-"
George clutched his heart. "Why Percy!"
"We would never-"
"-ever-"
"-abuse our sister in such a manner."
"How dare you accuse us of such potential shananiganery?"
"We are excellent at potions."
"We simply do not find executing the standard curriculum as entertaining as disrupting the standard curriculum."
Fred also turned to Bill. "Also, as we have the most extensive chocolate frog card collection-"
"-which we packed-"
"-because everyone knows chocolate frog cards are full of important historical facts-"
"-about important historical figures-"
"-we'll also take history."
Bill shrugged. The blackboard added "Twins" next to the Potions and History subjects.
Ginny opened her mouth to object again (because dung beetle) but Charlie stuck some sort of glazed carrot in it.
She had no choice but to chew furiously while her brothers continued to arrange her life.
Percy stood up, hand on chin in a manner that might have looked studious if he had had a beard to stroke. He waved his wand and his name appeared next to Charms and Astronomy. "Ginevra, I packed some star charts to compare the latitude difference. I also understand that the desert has prime viewing between the hours of-"
"Oi!" Ron exclaimed. All heads at the table turned toward him, watching as his fingers tapped as if he were using them to perform maths. "That doesn't leave me with any!"
Bill tilted his head at Ron. "Do you actually remember the incantation for the Slug Vomit charm?"
Ron shrugged. "Eat slugs?"
Everyone around the table groaned. Fred shook his head. "And now we know why-"
"-he vomited slugs in a bucket for two days."
"That was because my wand broke!"
"I dunno Fred, what do we think Ron is qualified to teach Ginny?"
"Hmm… let's see George… 10 Easy Ways To Copy Essays From Granger?"
"Useful, but Granger? Unfortunately not in Ginny's year."
"Maybe 'How To Tag After Harry Potter While He Does Hero Stuff?'"
"Can't earn an OWL in it-"
"-but she could-"
Ginny could feel the heat rising to her face and she literally banged her spoon on the table. "Enough! That's just enough from both of you."
She could have kissed Percy, truly kissed his ratty old shoes, when he steered the conversation away from Harry Potter. "The twins have a point, Ronald. You do, ahem, have a rather lax attitude about your essays in particular, and schoolwork in general. It might be useful for both of you if you and Ginny practiced together."
The whole table, save for Ron and surprisingly, Charlie, began to laugh.
Ron went as beet red as Ginny, He, however, was righteously indignant. "She's learning first year material!"
"The fundamentals," Percy sniffed, "can always be practiced."
"I'm going to be a third year!"
"Ronald," Percy sniffed. "Your work declined significantly during the period Miss Granger was-"
Petrified.
Ginny's blood seemed to chill as Percy trailed off, his eyes sliding to her in embarrassment.
He didn't say it, but he didn't need to. She and everyone else in the room knew it.
"He was upset," Ginny said, flatly. "Ron had every right to be upset. I petrified his best friend."
For some reason, though, that statement infuriated Bill. "No. An ancient Basilisk - taking orders from the Dark Wizard possessing our sister - petrified his friend." Bill's voice was ice cold, in a way Ginny had never, ever heard him speak before. "It wasn't you. You were possessed, Ginny."
Charlie crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. "Getting possessed seems like the kind of thing that shouldn't happen to a girl with six older brothers."
As Ginny glanced around the table, most of the heads were hanging in shame. She didn't need them to break the Code anymore. She could see their "Quidditch injuries" quite clearly.
Knuckles to nose from Charlie to Percy. Bill probably had a bruise on his foot from connecting to Ron's arse and she'd bet the seventeen knuts that she kept in a small box in her school trunk that Fred and George, their faces painted with regret, had taken it upon themselves to black each other's eyes.
"Seriously?" Ginny said, cutting the tension. "You all beat the crap out of each other and now you're making my first year at Hogwarts all about you? Your failure as brothers?"
And now that she had a moment to think about it, who the fuck did they think they were? Assigning subjects and deciding how her vacation was going to be planned and organized?
"This is toxic prattery," she muttered.
It would serve them right if she let them tutor all through their leisure time, then carted herself off to France anyway.
Because yes, pronouncing croissant with a "w" was pretentious.
But croissants were also delicious and Hogwarts didn't serve them regularly, so… just fuck them.
Fuck Hogwarts, fuck her brothers, fuck it all.
And she was just about to open her mouth to tell them so, when Charlie's voice cut through the silence. "Toxic prattery aside, I think Ron joining Ginny might be a good idea. Not-" Charlie held up his hand to ward off Ron's immediate objection "-because Ron needs remedial first year review."
"Thanks," grumbled Ron.
"But," Charlie continued, "Ginny needs someone to race against."
"Wait, what?" Ginny asked, completely confused.
As was Bill. He looked down the table to Charlie. "Explain."
Charlie, still leaning back in his chair as if he had all the time in the world, gestured to Ginny. "Look at her. Practically smoke coming out her ears. There's a fester. Ginny?" He moved his chair over to her side of the table, sitting next to her. "You getting mad?"
Ginny sat straighter. "If I said yes, would you just conjure more rolls?" she said sarcastically.
Charlie snorted. Then he turned his chair around and straddled it backward again, arms crossed along the top as he faced her.
Studying her.
"Ugh!" She stiffened. "Why do you keep doing that? It's creepy."
"It helps to see your face straight on. Let's go through a small exercise. Are you beginning to feel a sense of resentment that your flight of brothers are deciding everything for you?"
"Yes?" Who wouldn't be?
"Are you secretly plotting?"
Ginny narrowed her eyes. "Plotting like making you work all vacation, then running off and learning to eat French snails anyway?"
"Yeah, like that."
"Or sabotaging potions with extra wormwort so they explode in Fred and George's face?"
"Classic," Fred muttered.
"Or changing all of Percy's ones into sevens on his Astronomy chart so the maths are all wrong and Orion's belt ends up on top of Ursa's minor?"
"Not touching that one," George interjected.
"Right," Charlie nodded. "So, it's obvious. We know what needs to happen."
Confused, Ginny shook her head, "No we don't!"
Ron shook his head as well. "You say it's obvious, but it's really not."
"Ginny,' Charlie explained slowly, "needs competition, a goal, and an opportunity to disrupt the pecking order without the collateral damage being self-sabotage."
"That's the most words I've ever heard Charlie say at once," Ron said. "I don't get most of them, but there were a lot of words."
Ginny's mouth dropped, completely offended. "How on earth did you get to that, from my willingness to revenge-eat snails?"
"What pecking order?" Bill was equally confused. "We're a family, we don't have a pecking order."
Five brothers snorted as one.
"Says Bill."
"Top of the Pecking Order."
"The Pecking Order That Wasn't."
"If you're Bill."
"At the top."
Charlie sighed and unfolded himself from his chair. He walked over to Bill, and stood next to him, pointing at Ginny. "Look at her, Bill. What do you see?"
"Ginny."
"Exactly. She's the runt."
"Oi!" Ginny screeched.
Charlie had to raise his voice to be heard over Ginny's sputtering rant. "She's Ginny, half the size of everyone else, with a chip on her shoulder and something to prove. Now Ron," he pointed across the table at Ron. "Ron's in the hierarchy spot next to her. So, set them up to go head-to-head and she'll work harder to do better, just to knock him down, take his place and claim his cave."
Bill's forehead hit his palm with a loud smack. "Are you saying… Charlie, our sister is not a dragon."
Charlie's face looked positively gleeful. "Noooooo, that's where we've had it wrong all these years. She's exactly like a dragon."
"She's a girl!" Ron yelled over the rest of the bustle, indignant.
"No, girls are girls. Sisters," Charlie crossed his arms and looked smug, "are dragons."
"I'm not doing it. Even if I wanted to spend all of vacation taking lessons with Ginny, I'm a year older! I'm practically two years ahead of her," Ron snorted. "It's hardly fair! To, er, y'know, Ginny." He gestured absurdly to his sister who was now standing, glaring daggers at him.
Charlie shrugged, but Bill's face was pensive, as if he were considering it.
"No!" Ron objected, slamming his hand on the table. "I'm telling you it is not fair."
"It's competition, Ronniekins," Fred said.
"Perfectly fair, except you have a head start." George added.
"That's the part that's not fair!" Ron exclaimed, pointing at Ginny. "I know how this works. 'Poor Ginny' the underdog, let's give her a little extra help, 'poor Ginny' this and 'poor Ginny' that, and then it's not 'poor Ginny' going head-to-head against Ron, it's 'poor Ginny and her five older brothers against me and look! It's already happening, isn't it?
"You," Ron glared down the length of the finger pointed at Ginny with an impressive sort of self-righteousness, "they gave you alllllllll the rolls, Ginny. You. Have. All. The. Rolls."
He plopped back down in his seat, arms crossed, face resolute, as if the ownership of all the rolls proved his point.
Before she could stop herself, Ginny snatched up one of her rolls and pitched it at Ron. "I'm not a runt and I don't need five other brothers to beat you at anything."
He didn't have the Seeker reflexes of his best friend, so the roll hit him square in the nose.
Four arms, attached to two twins thrust straight in the air. "Score!"
"10 points for Gryffindor!"
Unexpectedly, an image of the life she would never lead smashed into her mind with all the subtlety of a rampaging graphorn.
Ginny Weasley, star Chaser of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Brothers teasing yet having the sort of bone deep respect that could only be garnered by being SO MUCH BETTER than they were at something. She could see that life, burned into her brain: her broom slung over her shoulder, celebrating a win on the Quidditch pitch with her Beater brothers while Harry Potter grinned down at her, eyes shining, snitch in hand.
And, well, yeah. In that image she defied them all by having grown appropriately-sized-for-her-small-boned-ribcage breasts, but that wasn't the important part.
The fact that she'd never have that life infuriated her. "Ron? I will have you eating slugs in a week without any 'poor Ginny's required!" She growled. Then, she whipped around and glared at Bill and Charlie. "We'll start tomorrow, after I get my wand back from Dad."
As she caught sight of the blackboard, the asterisk at the bottom of Charlie's note changed from 6 minutes and 37 seconds to 2 minutes and 18 seconds.
"Oh for fuck's sake," she muttered, throwing her hands up in the air. For the second time that day she stomped off to her tiny alcove.
"-amazing-"
"-odds?"
"-six knuts on Charlie, Best Brother by Thursday-"
She, without having a wand, had to tug on the zipper to escape them. "You're all gits!" she yelled as she tried to get it unstuck.
Laughter soared through the tent.
Ginny zipped the flap shut, and then stuffed her head under the pillow to block the sound of their stupid brother banter.
()()()
()()()
Author's Note, Addendum: The author's spirit of fair play has also been triggered at this point. Therefore, I would like to remind everyone that in 1066 CE, William the Bastard successfully rebranded himself William the Conqueror, almost a millennium before rebranding was even a *thing*. So... hats off to the French, y'all.