A lone ginger boy walked through Diagon alley in a brisk pace close to running. Ron didn't care where he was going – he just needed to get out of there. Anywhere from the twins' laughter. Anywhere from that awful Slytherin reflection he'd seen in the mirror. Ron slowed his pace as he approached Ollivander's wand shop, his anger at the twins now grasping at his earlier disappointment at being denied a new wand by his mother.

A boy about his age stepped out of the shop, holding a brand-new wand in his hand. Ron's stomach clenched in envy. That should be me, he thought, eyeing the boy's new wand with a mix of resentment and longing. His grip tightened on Charlie's old wand as the feelings of inadequacy crept in. But then, something caught Ron's eye; the boy didn't look as happy as he'd expected him to be. Ron got closer, confused about this discrepancy

The boy was just a little shorter than him in height and bit slenderer. He wore a dark green velvet coat and a pair of charcoal-grey trousers that gave him an old-fashioned pure-blood look despite wearing muggle trousers. He had a somewhat tanner complexion to Ron's and dark blond hair that was closer to brown than gold. His shoulders were slumped, and he wasn't beaming like someone who'd just gotten his very first wand.

Why doesn't he look happier? Wondered Ron. Wasn't getting your first wand supposed to be one of the best moments of a wizard's life?

The boy glanced up from his wand and noticed Ron's stare, allowing the sunlight to bounce off his grey eyes producing a silvery shine to them. His expression seemed to brighten a little, "Hello there!" he called out with a friendly wave. "Are you starting your 2nd year?"

Ron blinked, monetarily confused. "What?"

The boy gestured to Ron's robes and realization struck, the prank. Fred and George's stupid charm must've made him look like a Slytherin student.

"Second year? No," said Ron, his voice stiff as he crossed his arms defensively. "I am a First year. My brothers did… this when I wasn't looking."

The boy stared for a moment, and then let out a sudden genuine laugh. "Oh, I see now!" he said prompting an annoyed expression from Ron.

"Sorry! Sorry! I wasn't laughing at you. I just, well, I've always wanted brothers, so I just like the idea of this prank thing. It sounds fun to have brothers like that. Growing up as an only child gets a bit lonely sometimes."

Ron's annoyance eased slightly, though he still felt the sting of being laughed at. "Yeah, well, it's not as fun when you are the one being pranked."

The boy's smile softened into something more sympathetic. "I can imagine. My cousins can be a bit of a pain. My name is Gideon Fenwick by the way."

Ron's eyes widened. "Gideon?" he repeated, a little stunned. "That was my uncle's name!"

Gideon smiled but it had a bit of a mournful edge to it, "Mum told me that my father named me after Gideon Prewett, A good friend of his who would have been my godfather as well had he lived. If Gideon was your uncle, you must be a Weasley."

"Yeah, Ron Weasley," he introduced himself, shaking Gideon's hand. "I see you got a new wand, what's it like?"

Gideon's smile dropped into a frown. "Yes, I did. It's a perfect fit according to Great Uncle Garrick … er, I mean Mr. Ollivander. Ash and Unicorn's hair, 10 inches, supple." He said, giving Ron a closer look. The wand looked surprisingly similar to his own upon closer inspection, just less jaded by time and use.

"I was kind of hoping I'd be able to use my father's old wand." admitted the boy putting the wand away.

"Why would you want an older wand?" asked Ron, perplexed that anyone would want a hand me down when they had an option to buy it new.

"My father was killed in the war only about a year after I was born. Mum kept his wand for me rather than bury it with him. I really wanted to use it, but when I tried it, it didn't work. I never knew him, and now my last chance to form a connection with him is gone."

Ron's heart sank. He glanced down at Charlie's old wand suddenly feeling conflicted. Here was a kid, wishing he could use his father's old wand, while Ron had spent the summer resenting how he'd been once again been given his brothers' old stuff.

"Isn't there anything you can do to master it?" Asked Ron, feeling bad for Gideon.

Gideon shook his head. "No, it just wasn't a good match. Yew, Dragon heartstring, 12 inches, unyielding. Olivander said it was the definition of the opposite to my new wand. Even after I train up at Hogwarts and master my magic, it would still be too different for me to use well."

Ron brought forward Charlie's wand and held it up for Gideon to see. "Sorry to hear that. This was my brother's wand. It also has a Unicorn hair core but I'm not sure about the wood, but it did work for me alright when I tried it. Tried a few old family wands before I got to it."

Gideon's eyes widened with excitement. "That's amazing!" he said in admiration. "It's pretty special, especially for a Unicorn core. They are very loyal."

"I guess," Ron mumbled, feeling rather awkward about his earlier thoughts on his wand.

Fenwick's expression assumed a more solemn emotion, "did your brother…"

"What? No! Charlie is alive and well!" said Ron, horrified at the very thought.

"Oh… good to hear, it's just, it isn't very common for people to give away their wand."

Ron frowned, now that Fenwick had put it that way, why had Charlie given him his wand? "I guess it belonged to someone else before him. Most of us start with an old wand. Charlie must've gotten his own to replace it. Fred replaced his hand-me-down wand last year."

"That makes sense, and again, that's really cool! It's something that connects you to your brother, to your family. It's a bit like carrying a bit of them with you. That's something at least." said Gideon, adding the last bit rather wistfully, no doubt thinking of his father. "Fenwicks usually bury our dead with their wands, but mum made an exception to give me a chance to try it. Perhaps we should return it to dad… a Yew tree might still grow there."

"Er, maybe hold on to it for a bit longer? Do you have younger cousins who might want to try it?"

"A few, most are older than me, but I'm sure the little ones will love the idea of trying Uncle Benjy's old wand when it's their turn to go to Hogwarts. We don't generally hand down our wands though… probably the Olivander side of mum's family speaking there, 'the wand chooses the wizard Mr. Weasley.'" said Fenwick, in a voice Ron recognized as an eerily accurate impersonation of the wand store's proprietor, even though he only met him briefly.

Ron laughed, feeling his earlier anger and frustration melt away. "So… do you know what house you want to be in?"

Gideon tilted his head thoughtfully, "I know the Weasleys are old followers of Godric Gryffindor, but we Fenwicks don't have a clear allegiance. Mervyn is a Hufflepuff, Marcus is a Ravenclaw, mum was in Slytherin, and dad was a Gryffindor. Any one of them will do."

"Even Slytherin?" pressed Ron, not used to hearing anything other than how twisted that House's philosophy was.

Gideon frowned, "I know the house has a rotten reputation these days because of You-Know-Who, but not everyone who goes there is pure evil. Mum certainly isn't. Take Merlin for instance, he was Slytherin, and he fought Morgana, the Dark Lady of his day, a Gryffindor."

"I… didn't know that" admitted Ron. Everyone knew Merlin was a Slytherin, but Morgana Le Fay's old house wasn't a part of Arthurian legend he'd heard recounted to him as a child.

Gideon grinned sheepishly, "Yeah… it's not widely known. I enjoy reading about ancient magic and magical history. Mum says there's no way a bookworm like me won't end up in Ravenclaw, but sometimes I just wish I could go on the adventures I read about, y'know?"

"So, Gryffindor?" asked Ron with a knowing smile.

Gideon blushed an appropriate red, "… I think so, it was dad's old house after all." He said, looked up to the sun and frowned, "That late? I'd better head back to Mum or she'll worry."

"It was nice meeting you Gideon, maybe we'll see each other on the train?" asked Ron hopefully. It would be nice to go to Hogwarts with a friend.

Gideon smiled, "Maybe…but you have someone far more important to meet there than I," he added with a faraway look in his eyes and a deeper voice.

"What do you mean?" asked Ron with a frown.

Gideon's smile fell, "Oh… sorry about that, it happens sometimes, forget I said anything… Actually, don't forget, it might be important later on, it's so difficult to tell…" he said, looking rather put out. "I'll try to meet you on the train, but my older cousins might steal me away so no promises. If not on the train, then I'm sure we'll meet in Gryffindor. Bye Ron!"

Giedon ran off, waving at Ron as he did, a wave Ron returned but somewhat awkwardly, still weirded out by Fenwick's behaviour.

"If you thought that was odd, his aunt Sybill is the very definition of spooky," said a voice to his side, causing Ron to jump in surprise until he saw it was Charlie.

"What do you want?" barked Ron, his thoughts going back to events at the robes shop.

Rather that reply, Charlie kneeled beside him, pulled out his wand, and charmed away the Slytherin green from his robes leaving them neutral black and grey.

"Thanks," muttered Ron, grateful the Slytherin colours were gone.

"Don't mention it, Mum was furious with the twins after you left. They've been looking everywhere for you, but I figured you needed time alone."

"How long were you listening to us?" wondered Ron, a bit put out at being spied on.

Charlie grinned, "about half of it, you are dead right about my old wand, I wasn't its first wizard. Still… it worked well for most of my years at Hogwarts. I only changed it because my NEWTS required something more tailored to my magic to cast all those advanced spells."

Ron nodded, so that was what their mother meant when she said he didn't need his own wand just yet. "Who did it originally belong to?"

Charlie's smile faltered slightly, his eyes taking an uncharacteristically serious expression. "It belonged to our uncle, Gideon Prewett."

The name hit Ron like a bludger. "Uncle Gideon?!" he repeated, stunned. "Why didn't anyone tell me this? I thought it was yours!"

Charlie shook his head, "It was passed down to me only a few years after he was killed. You were very young, so you wouldn't remember him, but I was nine and I do… he was a good man, a bit mischievous, but courageous. Mum took his and Fabian's death very hard; she almost didn't let me try his wand when none of the others would work. Dad convinced her to give it a go, and it's been easier for her to think of it as 'Charlie's wand' ever since."

Ron stared down at his wand, feeling a new weight of history behind it. No wonder his mother had been so angry when he kept trying to get a new one.

"I didn't know," he said quietly, feeling like a complete idiot.

Charlie gave him a sad smile, "Mum doesn't like talking about them much. It still hurts her, you know? Losing both her younger brothers like that, the Prewett name being systematically wiped out outside its relation to other families like ours… those were dark times."

Ron felt his throat tighten. He'd always assumed the wand had just been one of Charlie's old things, another hand-me-down he'd inherited because they couldn't afford anything better. But this… this was different. It wasn't just a hand-me-down. It was a living memorial to an uncle he'd never known.

"It's yours now, Ron. Yes, it's my old wand, and Gideon's wand before that; it's not perfect, but it still chose you, and I reckon that means something."

Ron nodded, still processing everything. "How come Fred and George didn't get our uncles wands? They were twins too."

Charlie laughed, "They did try them while Bill took you to a Cannons match. Fred used Fabian's wand during his first year, but it wasn't a great fit, so he got a new one before starting his 2nd. Your wand rejected George rather violently after I got my current one. It was rather dramatic; bottles and vases blew up all over the burrow, which only made George want the wand even more of course, but Mum got him off the idea by getting him a new one since nothing else we had in the family collection would work for him. That's how our family has always done things; waste not, want not."

"So… it's like Grandfather's chess set, is that why they were so easy to break in?"

"They literally paraded before you on the board exclaiming 'the king is dead, long live the king!' said Charlie with a deadpan.

Ron blushed, having forgotten that memory.

"You are your own person Ron," said Charlie, giving him a warm hug rather than his usual playful ones. "You've got your own path to walk. Doesn't matter if the wand's been passed down. It's yours now and you'll make it your mark with it. Now that's real magic."

Ron felt a swell of pride as his earlier jealousy was replaced by something closer to gratitude. "Thanks Charlie," he said, breaking free of the hug.

Charlie grinned and ruffled Ron's hair. "Don't mention it. Now… listen, if you're dead set on getting a new wand… Bill and I talked about it, and we're ready to put the money forward for you to buy you one. I have it with me right now and Olivander's is over there if you want it."

"Mum and dad would be upset with you if you buy us anything else," said Ron.

Charlie waved away he's concern, "we'll handle them, so… what do you say?"

Ron glanced at his uncle's wand, Charlie's wand, No, His wand. His grip tightened around it as his eyes marvelled at the wear and tear evident on the shaft, his finger tracing every imperfection with a reverence, realizing that most had no doubt been incurred during his uncle's many duels with You-Know-Who's followers. For the first time in a while, his heart didn't feel like longing for something new. He was certain he'd find something else to get jealous about tomorrow, but at least for today, he realized that what he had would be enough.

"Nah, I think I will stick with this one for a bit longer."

Charlie's smile widened. "That's the spirit! Now, let's get back to the others before Dad calls the Auror office to send out search parties or something."

As the two brothers left, an elderly man looked on from the wand shop's doorway with a pair of unblinking pale silvery eyes. As distance took the Weasley's out of sight, his gaze turned to a dusty box his hands had wandered to as his ears caught wind of their conversation. "Willow and Unicorn hair, 14 inches, somewhat rigid but surprisingly pliant with enough prodding. Yes, I am confident you will find a worthy partner in young Mr. Weasley one day."

The Burrow hummed with its usual evening bustle while being noticeably quieter with Fred and George grounded in their room. Their mother had been livid, deciding to confine the twins until Ginny's birthday party. While Ron still felt hurt by the joke, he found a bit of relief in the rare peace without the twins' constant mischief. He spent most of the evening flipping through his second-hand textbooks, attempting some of the simpler spells. Though most fizzled out, a few had actually worked, giving him a small sense of accomplishment.

"Wingardium Leviosa," he spelled out, taking care to correct his pronunciation with Bill's advice still in mind. His elder brother having sat down to supervise his attempts at magic at his mother's insistence. The fancy looking quill he had before him twitched for a few seconds before going inanimate.

"Good job Ron!" said Bill looking genuinely impressed.

Ron frowned, "I only managed to get twitch for a few seconds, it didn't even hover an inch!"

"That's more than most children your age can do before Hogwarts. Even I had a hard time with that spell in my first year," recalled Bill with a chuckle which soon turned into a yawn. "Sorry, Lord-Manager kept me on my feet for most of the past 24 hours. I'd better tuck in for the night."

"Good night, Bill… and thank you," called out Ron, receiving a smile from his older brother before he turned to walk up the stairs towards his old room.

Ron wanted to keep practicing but decided to keep his word to his mother and stop now that he was no longer being supervised. She hadn't approved of the idea of him trying out a few spells before Hogwarts, but Bill and Charlie had somehow managed to convince her.

Tucking away his wand, Ron's eyes looked instead at the fancy quill, a gift he'd purchased with money Charlie had insisted on giving him to buy himself something nice seeing as he'd turned down his older brothers offer to buy him a new wand. It hadn't been as much as an Olivander's wand's worth of Galleons, but Ron had been able to buy himself 2nd hand wand holster and wand care kit, making his budget stretch out enough to buy the expensive quill.

Sighing in the realization he might as well get it over with, Ron picked up the quill and the sickle he had left over from his purchase and walked up to Percy's room. Once again, he knocked, and once again nobody answered. Ron opened the door and found Percy busy writing more letters much to the consternation of his already exhausted looking new owl.

"Percy?" Ron began, standing awkwardly at the doorway.

Percy looked up, raising a suspicious brow. "Yes Ronald?"

Ron reached out to his pocket and pulled out the sickle, taking care to keep his other hand holding the quill hidden behind his back. "I thought you'd like your sickle back. It wasn't fair what I threatened to do with your secret. You were right, it isn't the Gryffindor way."

Percy lips quirked into a small smile, clearly touched by this unexpected act of fairness. Before he could take the sickle, Ron pulled out the fancy quill and put it down on Percy's desk, giving a quick glance to his letter while Percy was distracted to see if it held any other juicy secrets more to satisfy his own curiosity rather than any plan to try and blackmail him again. Clearwater seemed to be opening to Percy's overtures. Charlie's advice had evidently helped.

"Where did you get this?" asked Percy, clearly impressed by the quill's quality. It was an elegant thing made of a vibrant looking Raven's feather with a sleek finish and a golden tip which shined brightly even in the dim lighting of Percy's room.

"Bill and Charlie gave me some money as a gift for starting Hogwarts. I had a fair bit left after I got everything I needed, so I thought I'd get you something special to write all those important letters with. It has charms on it, so you can use it a lot without it breaking."

Percy's expression brightened, letting go of his worn-out white quill in favour of the new one, inspecting it with careful admiration. "Thank you, Ron," clearly touched by the gesture. "I, er…. I didn't expect this, but this was very thoughtful of you and very much appreciated."

Ron shifted on his feet, uncomfortable with the praise. "I wanted to make things right."

Percy's expression turned serious as he set the quill down and turned his chair away from his incomplete letter to face Ron. "I need to apologise too, Ron, for some of the things I said."

Ron waited, knowing Percy had a hard time apologising for stuff, even more than he did.

"When the twins changed your robes, I was angry with them at first, but then I remembered how furious I was with you in the morning, and it seemed like a golden opportunity to get back at you. But you don't hex someone when they're down, that's as much against the Gryffindor way as trying to blackmail them. I shouldn't have done it. I'm sorry."

Ron nodded, he'd expected Percy would apologise eventually, but it was still nice to hear it said now rather than drag the antagonism between them all summer.

"That said, there is something important I must tell you before you go to Hogwarts. First though… I want to give you this," said Percy, reaching into a draw in his desk to pull out a neatly bound grey book with Ron's name on the front written in black.

"I charmed it myself; I was planning on making use of it this year as a study planner, but there's more than enough time to charm another and I'd like you to go to Hogwarts with all the tools you need to succeed. It can act as both a diary and a study planner to keep notes about your classwork. The charms will make sure you won't run out of pages any time soon, and whenever you want to look for a specific entry, you just need to describe it while touching the page marker. I also added a privacy charm to make everything you write in it incomprehensible to anyone else," he said, sending Ron a smirk when he got to the last bit.

Ron rolled his eyes but smiled, "That's a great gift Percy, thanks, though the grey cover is a bit dreary, could we change it? Say Gryffindor red and gold?"

Percy's smile thinned, "About that. I asked Madam Malkin about the charm which makes Hogwarts robes change into the colour of their owner's house after the sorting. I did something similar with this book; It will change its colour according to your house sorting be it Gryffindor or any other house."

Ron frowned, not liking the implication he could be sorted anywhere else but Gryffindor. "Might as well save us the trouble and get it to go red and gold then."

"No Ron, you shouldn't save yourself the trouble but rather be open to other possibilities. I've given this matter a lot of thought over the years, and I've realized I made the wrong choice during my sorting because I let our family's expectations make it for me. I don't resent my place in Gryffindor, but I now realize a different house would have been a better fit for me. One which would have been more supportive of my desire to excel."

Ron couldn't believe his ears, "Percy… surely you don't mean."

"What I mean isn't the issue here Ron! Most of my friends are in Ravenclaw and I regret not being with them. You aren't me, perhaps your place truly is in Gryffindor because that's simply who you are and what you need to become the best version of yourself you can be. But neither are you the rest of our brothers or our family for that matter. Bill was always adventurous, Charlie a daredevil, and the Twins bold to a fault. Our parents are the most honourable and proud people I know, some would say too proud," muttered Percy, causing Ron to frown having sometimes thought much the same.

"You on the other hand…" started Percy, getting a hold of a knight of his chess set he liked to use as a decoration and because the piece had insisted on being allowed to see the sunrise and sunset to cooperate in matches. Percy was decent at the game, but he rarely won against Ron.

"You are a thinker Ron… I don't think you understand quite how good you are at this game. I wiped the floor with my year mates at Hogwarts, even the Revanclaws. I even got to the Quarter Finals of the Hogwarts Chess Club last year which isn't divided by year. But I haven't managed to beat you even once the whole summer. None of us has. Even the twins when they played together and cheated."

Ron felt his cheeks redden at the praise, "It's just a game Percy…"

"No, it isn't. You haven't met many people from the muggle-world. When Muggle-borns first see Wizard Chess, they assume it's the game they know and that the only difference is that the pieces move as we tell them to and smash each other up. In the muggle version, the pieces are voiceless and inanimate, and the players move them by hand. The results of a chess piece's attack are never in doubt, and the pieces are simply removed, not destroyed."

Ron took an incredulous expression, "but the whole point of Wizard's chess is that the pieces only follow your orders if they trust them! An experienced piece can fend off the attack of another, even defeat it if the skill difference is big enough. And when a piece is destroyed… reconstructing it doesn't return it with all its memories. You've gotta work hard to get it back to scratch and to get it to trust you again. If a piece is destroyed too often... it dies."

"Precisely, Wizard's chess is so much more than a game Ron, it is the tactics it takes to win a match and the strategy to keep the damage taken by our pieces from game to game as low as possible. You have to talk to your pieces and take their concerns seriously if you want to have their trust. How many times have I lost because this knight charged straight into your traps without orders?" asked Percy, with the knight sending a rather wet raspberry at its owner.

Ron stayed silent, not knowing what to say.

"All I am saying Ron is that you have talents you've downplayed for far too long because of your low sense of self-esteem. You keep comparing yourself to us based on the metrics we use rather than the ones you're naturally good at. I don't know which house will be the best for your natural talents to prosper. It could be any one of the 4, even Slytherin. What I don't want you to do is go headfirst into Gryffindor just because that's what's expected of you. I don't want you to become a jealous shadow in someone else's self-important heroic story like I did."

Ron picked up the study planner and quietly walked out the room, "I'll… think about it," he said, closing the door a bit more forcefully than he'd intended to.

Ron's thoughts remained a whirlwind of ideas and emotions as he entered his room. He'd planned on going to sleep, but now found sleep the furthest thing from his thoughts. Looking out from his window, Ron could see much of the burrow laid out before him under the full moon's light. Was Percy, right? He hadn't told him the exact nature of the sorting, but he'd certainly implied there was at least a measure of importance to his own desires in the process. Ron found he was angry at this brother at implying he'd go anywhere else but Gryffindor but couldn't dispute that going headfirst into Gryffindor would have probably been his plan if he had any say about it. But what did that say about him? All his life he'd sought some means to distinguish himself from his already distinguished brothers. Gryffindor had seemed a given, red house for the red heads, but what if by choosing it he'd become just another Weasley?"

A shadow passed over the moon darkening the night sky, breaking Ron away from his thoughts. At first, he thought he'd imagined it, but then another shadow appeared looking suspiciously like a human figure riding a broom. Who would be out flying at this hour? Wondered Ron, deciding his curiosity was greater than his drowsiness. He walked away from his window and out of the room, taking care to climb down the stairs as quietly as possible. Once he got out of the house, Ron was at first greeted only by the sound of crickets and the feint sound of merry making of a troop of gnomes busy getting drunk on Dandelion Ale.

Did the flyers leave? Perhaps it was the Diggories? Wondered Ron until two flyers zoomed past him landing close to the Burrow's broom shed. Ron silently creeped closer to them, taking care not to make a sound and keep himself to the shadows of the trees and structures of the burrow avoiding the moonlight. The sound of a familiar voice's giggling was the first conformation he got for the flyers identities as another older voice shushed her.

"… I know you're excited Ginny, but Mum hasn't changed her mind. You're going to have to continue keeping this secret for a while longer. Even from Bill."

Ginny's delighted giggles fell silent, "but how am I supposed keep your old broom a secret?"

Charlie tapped the forward edge of the broom four times, and the formally sleek design of the Comet 260 quickly bent, aged, and twisted before Ron's eyes until it became just another sad old Shooting Star well past its prime. "I had them add the charm while it was being serviced, it was pretty expensive, but it should keep you in the clear. It's still recognizable from the other brooms thanks to its rather burned up twigs. There's also a subtle notice me not charm that will encourage anyone but you to think it's the worst option and avoid it just in case, though to be fair, it already looks the part."

His sister jumped to catch Charlie's neck, giving him an impassioned hug intermitted by tears of joy, "thank you so much Charlie… it means a lot to me."

Charlie gently stroked her hair before landing a soft kiss on her brow, "Think nothing of it, Ginny. You are a natural flyer, and if Quidditch remains your big passion in life, I know you will go on to do great things. Mum will one day understand that this is who you are, not the delicate princess she imagines."

Ginny snivelled a bit, looking unsure.

"Your dreams will win out in the end. That is how mum is, stubborn as a Horntail, but ultimately dedicated to giving us our best chance at happiness."

Charlie gently guided Ginny's feet back to ground level and let her go, taking her broom into his hands to transform it back into a Comet 260. "Now, before we go to bed, I want to go over some finer points of broom maintenance with you. Now that it's been fully serviced, the broom should last for all your years at Hogwarts, but only if you maintain it properly."

As his two siblings disappeared back into the broom shed, Ron took their departure as his que to slip away. Had Ginny been flying in secret for all this time? When did Charlie find out? The thoughts swirled in Ron's mind as he quietly waked back towards the house. He didn't know whether to admire his sister's daring or curse himself for not noticing it sooner. Now that he thought about it, the clues had all been there: her bleary eyes at breakfast, the constant struggle to wake her up in the mornings, and her odd habit of picking up unexplained scrapes and bruises. How thick could I've been? He thought, shaking his head.

For a moment, Ron considered staying downstairs to confront Ginny and Charlie as they sneaked back into the house. It would be the perfect opportunity to show Ginny he supported her flying and to give her birthday present. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized such an intervention would cause more harm than good. This wasn't his secret to tell. If Ginny wanted to fly in secret, she had her reasons for not telling him about it. He sighed. It wasn't his place to ruin that for her, and besides, part of him couldn't help but feel a little proud of her gutsiness in the face of Mum's unfairness.

As he crept towards the stairs, Ron glanced over the still full shopping bags in the hallway. His eyes landed on the small, wrapped package tucked into the side of one of the bags. If I can't give her the gloves directly, then how should I do it? He wondered, ripping out a page from Percy's study planner to jot down a note: Make sure you spot the name written on them, it's hard to spot, but trust me, it will make all the difference. Happy birthday Ginny.

Ron plucked out the package from the bag and slowly sneaked towards Ginny's room. It was dark when he entered and a whispered attempt at the lumos charm failed to produce any helpful light. Working with what little light came through the window, Ron managed to spot the shape of her bed and a lump that had to be her pillow. He carefully placed the parcel beneath the pillow, slipping in the note into the folds of the package.

There was no doubt Ginny would recognize his handwriting: it was too wobbly, his letters too big. It was so obvious the absence of his name on the note was mostly a gimmick, something that would let her pretend it wasn't from him. Even if Ginny decided to confront him about it, Ron found he didn't mind the idea. He was rather proud of his gift, despite it being second-hand like most of their things. The thought of her reaction to finding Gwenog Jones's Hogwarts gloves under her pillow made him smile as he tiptoed back into his own room.

The next morning, Ron was woken up by a soft buzzing sound. Groggy, he blinked his eyes open, trying to focus on the faint hum in the air. At first, he thought it was just a fly or a pixie, but as his vision cleared, he spotted a golden blur zipping around his room.

What in Merlin's name?

A Golden Snitch darted past his head prompting him to shoot out of bed, scrambling to grab it. Despite the Snitch being confined to his room with no way out, he missed his first attempt to catch it, and the second, cursing under his breath as it continued to zoom around just out of reach. Ron hesitated to try again, fearing it might be another one of the twins' pranks, before concluding they wouldn't dare try anything so soon after the scolding they'd received from their mother. With a final leap, Ron's hand closed around the fluttering Snitch, the metal cool and smooth to the touch.

As he held it in his palm savouring his triumph, he realized something was different about this Snitch. It wasn't quite as seamless as the standard ones used in competitive matches were. This one was heavier, its design more ornate, almost ancient. Turning it over, Ron squinted at the faint engraving to its side. The numbers were faded, but he could just about make out a year: 1892. His heart leapt.

"1892…" he whispered, tracing the numbers with his finger. It couldn't be,

He rotated the Snitch again, and there it was, the emblem of the Chudley Cannons stamped onto the metal, worn and slightly chipped, but still clear.

Ron's heart pounded in his chest. This was the Snitch Thee Snitch caught by the team's legendary captain and seeker Elfric Cadwallader in their last League Cup finals victory nearly 100 years ago. For several minutes, Ron just stared at it, overwhelmed. He couldn't believe what he was holding in his hand was genuine, but all the details suggested it was. His mind raced. Where had it come from? Then the memory hit him, the round package Ginny had been holding behind her back in the shop. He'd assumed she'd brought a practice Snitch for herself going by its shape as something she could play with in her room, but now he knew better. But how had she found it? Recalling the way Charlie had helped him find a gift for Ginny, Ron had his answer.

Ron smiled to himself, his heart swelling with gratitude. Somehow, Charlie and Ginny had found the Holy Grail of Chudley fandom. The treasure that had been missing for decades ever since Cadwallader had accidently left a window open while he let his great grandchildren run around after it. The old seeker, now ancient, had tried to give chase to it with a toy broom, but a sudden heart attack had ended his life just as his fingers were about to close around it.

How on Earth had they managed it? He wondered before realizing it didn't matter.

When Ron headed downstairs for breakfast, Ginny was still in bed, sleeping off her night of illicit flying. By the time she finally woke up, it was near noon, and the house was buzzing with excitement. The entire family had gathered in the living room, pelting its youngest member with sweets, presents, and playful shouts of "Happy Birthday." Ginny couldn't hide the wide grin plastered on her face all day. She radiated happiness, and Ron, sitting by the fireplace, couldn't help but smile as well. Whenever their eyes met, a silent word of gratitude passed between them, bringing their smiles a little bit closer to their eyes. Neither of them mentioned the gifts they'd given each other, there was no need.

Letters to Harry Potter - Number 4 Privet Drive

4th of August

Dear Harry,

How are those blasted muggles treating you? I hope whatever charms Bones put up were enough, but knowing what my father says about the Ministry, you never know. My parents won't tell me anything about our plans to get you out of there, but I know they are working on it. Father has been spending more time in the ministry than at home. It's been terrible keeping all this to myself and I don't know how I kept it quiet from my friends.

Playing Quidditch with them isn't the same anymore. They aren't bad, alright, Crab and Goyle are terrible in any role other than beater (Mama still won't let us use one!) Zabini keeps talking rather than playing, and Nott only scores in his imagination. You gave me a run for my galleons, and as Slytherin used to say, "To be the best, compete with the best." Don't get a big head though, I am going thrash you next time we're up in the air!

Regards,

Draco Malfoy.

6th of August

Dear Harry,

I see that you have been diligently reading the books I provided. You can be sure that such dedication to your studies will serve you well at Hogwarts. As to the matter of your guardianship, rest assured that Lucius and I are doing all we can to remove you from those horrid muggles as soon as possible. Our family has a lot of influence, but I am afraid even we cannot make the Ministry do its work as well as it might under a better administration.

The muggle-born question is a sensitive topic in wizarding discourse. There are many opinions on the matter, but I would say it is the risk to our traditions that concerns me more than the blood of the individual. As Salazar Slytherin feared even back in his day, Muggle-borns inevitably enter our society with various preconceived Muggle notions about it. For example, your understandable but misguided concerns about our house-elves welfare.

Considering the vastly more enlightened state of wizarding society, you might appreciate how insulting it can be when our noble magical culture is compared with the sort of muggle barbarism you are all too familiar with. It raises the question of conflicted loyalties even among moderates. To whom do the Muggle-borns ultimately give their allegiance? To the Magical World that welcomed them, or to the Muggle World in which they were born?

Not that anyone would dare raise such questions about your family. While I did not know her personally, we have a family friend who was a childhood friend to your mother. He does not talk about her often, but based on what he has said, Lilly Potter was the sort of muggle-born who made the best use of her magical gifts to integrate into our world. I hope to introduce you to him once you come to live with us for some tutoring before Hogwarts.

Warm regards,

Narcissa Malfoy.

8th of August

Dear Mr. Potter,

I am sorry to say that my inquiries aren't progressing as quickly as I'd like. Your situation as a half-blood have raised legal obstacles that aren't present with similar muggle-born cases. While not unprecedented, cases such as yours have been rare enough that there isn't a clear precedent on how to proceed, since there's usually a clearer line of magical relations. I am considering a review of our laws regarding all such cases once yours is settled.

Your instincts serve you well in that, indeed, what Lady Malfoy told you, while a largely honest representation of the more moderate traditionalist wizarding view, it does not express the entirety of those views, and nor do I suspect it represents the entirety of her own views on the matter. Some in our society discriminate according to the bloodline of the witch or wizard, and not only according to how well they integrate into our society and culture.

Your mother for instance was known as one of the best witches of her age, yet many of them still saw her as an inferior. I am sad to say that many Pure-Bloods fear the challenge successful Muggle-borns represent to their own claims of magical exceptionalism. Even the moderate cultural traditionalist perspective often cycles back to blood, since many muggle-borns find it impossible to integrate to a degree that would plicate the traditionalists.

Regards,

Ameila Bones.

Department of Magical Law Enforcement

General Notes: This chapter was initially a bit shorter than the others, but I thought it would be too excessive to include it in the last one. I also liked the way it resolves this three chapter story-line with Ron too much to cut it, even though I agree that this story-line has distracted the story a bit from Harry. In view of this rather extensive distraction from Harry's story, I've included letters written to Harry I planned to put in the next chapter in this one. I might re-order the chapters of the pre-Hogwarts stage once they are finished or at least move one letter from here to the 3 chapters from Ron's POV later on.

Addendum 1: Thanks again to Lilitari for beta-reading this chapter. The next chapter will return to Harry's POV. I am hoping it will be ready by next week, but it is easily the most ambitious chapter I've had to deal with in this story to date, and I have a new seminar paper to worry about IRL. As such, the tentative earliest date for the chapter will be 12th of October while the latest date will be the 19th. I should be able to keep to the latter at least, though I am optimistic I will meet the earlier date. The first draft is going very well so far and its mostly a fine tuning job to get it right at this point.

Addendum 2: While this chapter did introduce an OC, they aren't and won't ever be the center of this story. I learned that lesson of what happens when I over do it the hard way from my prior Harry Potter fic attempt. I envision a largely symbolic role for them echoing aspects of the canon characters, especially the leads and their altered circumstances. Whenever possible, I will use a canon character. An OC will only be introduced when its the only option.

Addendum 3: Changed Gideon Fenwick's family relations a bit because they didn't make sense in paternal terms. The main reason I am making him related to a few magical families is that I might need someone with those connections to explore various aspects of magic and it didn't make sense to divide it up between a few characters that would be otherwise redundant. I'd prefer to be as efficient with my OCs as possible being exactly what I need them to be.

Addendum 4: I know the Hogwarts robes are just plain black in the books, but I rather like the idea of them changing a bit upon getting sorted.

Thanks for reading!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. JK Rowling and any organization empowered by her to that effect own the Harry Potter title and its related products.