Disclaimer: This world and all its characters belong to JK Rowling. I wrote this purely for entertainment purposes, and have no wish to sell, copyright or otherwise claim any of this content.

Warning: Mention of suicide.

"Hey, Lyle!" Charlie pushed his way through the throng of students in the Dining Hall and plopped himself beside Lyle Hulbert at the Ravenclaw table. A few people gave him strange looks – while it wasn't forbidden to sit at other tables, it wasn't exactly common – but most ignored him. Lyle looked up from his plate of sausage rolls and grinned at Charlie.

"Hey. Where've you been? We've missed you in the library, you know."

Charlie rolled his eyes. Last year, before the OWLs exam week, Charlie had decided to join a study group in the library (comprised mostly of Ravenclaws and a few Slytherins), and had made it to the first two meetings before getting distracted and missing them more and more frequently. Now the only reason he went was if he was truly struggling with something – usually the night before it was due – and his absences and random appearances had become a running joke that Lyle especially never seemed to tire of.

"I'm sure you can get on without me," he grinned. "However, I have a question to test your skills of knowing everything."

"Hit me," Lyle said happily, shoving his plate away and clasping his hands in his lap. "My brain is listening."

Charlie shook his head. "Not here, not now. Meet me in the library after dinner."

Lyle scrutinized him. "You're kidding, right? This sounds like the beginning of a horror-mystery movie..."

"No, I'm dead serious. You do want to know what the question is, don't you?"

Lyle looked skeptical now. "I don't know, do I?"

Charlie stood and clapped him on the shoulder. "Only you can say where your curiosity will take you. I'll see you in the library."

"A galleon you won't even be there," Lyle called as Charlie headed for the Gryffindor table.

"You know I haven't got a galleon," Charlie called back cheerfully.

Charlie was reading a book on the anatomy of dragons (his current hobby) when Lyle slid into the seat across from him in the Hogwarts library. He had changed out of his school robes and was now wearing jeans and some muggle shirt that had short sleeves and a collar. It didn't surprise Charlie, since he knew that Lyle was muggleborn, but he still didn't think much of the style.

"Hey. So what's this question that's so secretive?"

Charlie shut his book and looked seriously at Lyle. "Promise not to tell?"

"Depends what it is." Charlie narrowed his eyes, and Lyle huffed. "Fine! Okay, fine, I promise."

Charlie sighed and leaned back in his chairs. "It's about one of my younger siblings. Ron."

Lyle's fair eyebrows shot up. "You wanted to ask me a question about one of your little brothers? How many do you have, anyway?"

Charlie made an exasperated gesture with his hand. "That's the problem!"

"What, that you have too many brothers?."

Charlie shook his head, then glanced around the library to make sure Madame Pince wasn't around (no magic in the library). After he'd made sure no one was paying attention to them, he carefully conjured an image of Ron. Lyle looked impressed at the magic, then squinted at the image before shrugging. "Okay, he's cute. So?"

Charlie sat back in his chair. "Describe Ron to me."

Lyle frowned at him. "Is this some sort of test where if I answer wrong you'll blast me through the bookcase?"

"No. Just trust me on this, okay? Describe Ron to me, then I'll explain. Promise."

"Well," Lyle sighed and leaned forward to get a better look. "As long as you keep an eye out for Madame Pince. I'm not losing my library privileges because of you. Okay. Erm, he's wearing a green shirt, jeans, and shoes. He's got red hair like all you Weasleys, sharper nose than you though, and he looks like he's about nine or ten." Lyle leaned back in his seat. "And that's all I've got. Now, are you going to tell me what this is all about or what?"

Charlie banished the image with flick of his wand. "That was Ron, my younger sister. She'll be nine in March."

Lyle's eyes went wide. "No way. That was your sister?" His shocked look faded into one of annoyance. "You could have told me. I thought she was your brother! Why does she have such short hair?"

Charlie waved a hand in the air. "That's not important. She's my second-youngest sister, and she's convinced she's a boy." Charlie frowned unhappily. He'd long ago accepted that Ron wasn't normal; but he hadn't yet accepted the look of miserable resignation that Ron got in her eyes any time she was told to behave more like a girl. "Like, really convinced. She says she was born in the wrong body. I was wondering if you'd ever heard or read of anyone else like that."

Lyle was looking distinctly uncomfortable now. "Charlie … I don't know if I'm really the person you should be talking to about this. Maybe you should ask one of the teachers, or Madame Pomfrey…."

Charlie shook his head. "No, this isn't any of their business. Besides, Ron would probably kill me if she found out I told a teacher about her – as it is, she'll throw a proper fit if she ever finds out about this."

Lyle sat back and chewed his lower lip, every once in a while glancing nervously at Charlie then quickly averting his gaze. As the silence stretched on, Charlie began to wonder if he had been right to trust Lyle with this information. After all, they'd only just met last year – what if Charlie didn't know Lyle as well as he thought he did?"

"Oh for God's sake," Lyle suddenly muttered. Glancing around furtively, he muttered the incantation for what Charlie recognized as a silencing charm, then leaned forward. "Listen," he said. "I had an uncle once. At parties and stuff he was always wearing jewelry and make-up and – sometimes he would wear dresses, too. I didn't see him very often, because Mum and Da didn't want me associating with him. They said he was trying to be something he wasn't. A woman. He died when I was seven – overdosed on some muggle pills, apparently. Da said he'd done us all a favor by killing himself: said he'd finally caught on that he didn't belong here. Mum said his wife had told on him at work, and that the harassment had gotten so bad he'd decided to put an end to it by killing himself." Lyle was staring resolutely at the table now, and Charlie could see that his jaw was clenched. "I dunno, Charlie, but if you – if Ron's sure about this … it's kind of freaky, Charlie. I think as long as she keeps this up, no one's going to be happy, least of all her."

"Ron's not a freak," Charlie said stiffly, though on the inside he felt sick. Lyle flinched, and Charlie took a deep breath. "Sorry, Lyle. Sorry. You've just given me a lot to think about." He was silent for a moment, then asked "So is this just a muggle thing that Ron somehow has? Is it something you get, or is it something you're born with?"

Looking slightly less wary, Lyle shook his head. "I'm not sure. I've never heard of anyone else except my uncle, either magical or muggle, before now. But … I'm sure if there had been some way to fix it – some way to either convince him he was a man, or to change him into a woman – I'm sure my uncle would have done it." Lyle's eyes flicked idly to the wall behind Charlie, then his eyes widened. "Blimey! Sorry, Charlie, I gotta dash. I'm late for a meeting with this kid in third year I'm supposed to be tutoring. Finite Incantatum." The silence charm disappeared, and Charlie turned to look at the clock behind him. It was almost seven.

Lyle grabbed his bag off the ground and slung it over his shoulder. "Listen, just be nice to her, okay?" Charlie stood and Lyle glanced at him with a sad, guilty look in his eyes. "Sometimes I wonder if it wasn't partly our fault that my uncle killed himself."

On the Hogwarts express, Charlie sat with Eliza Quimbly and Jack Hartwood. Bill stopped by once to chat, but soon wandered on – the three sixth years were discussing the quidditch season, which was going just fine according to Charlie, but which Eliza considered a complete disaster.

"I'm telling you, we don't stand a chance," Eliza insisted as the train chugged steadily through the countryside.

"You're not captain," Jack pointed out. "Charlie is. I say we listen to him. He ought to have a better idea than us, right Charlie?" Jack grinned at him.

"Right." Charlie said firmly as Eliza huffed. "As I've been saying, we have a perfectly good chance as long as we practice – "

"And who's been taking Arithmancy?" Eliza demanded. "Not you, not Jack. Me. So who do you suppose knows more about the numbers, eh? I know what I'm talking about when I say we don't have a chance – even Marylin agrees with me. Besides, Billy's rubbish at chasing. He drops the quaffle at least once every game!"

"Okay, so he needs some more practice," Charlie said irritably. "But I've caught the snitch every game except that match against Ravenclaw. It was raining then, though. I would have caught it!"

Jack punched him on the shoulder. "Don't worry about beating yourself up about that, Charlie. I'll keep beating you up for it as long as you like."

Charlie rolled his eyes and shoved Jack away. "Seriously, though. I don't see how it's such a stretch that we might win this year. We're tying at second place with Hufflepuff, for Merlin's sake."

"Yeah, with Ravenclaw 300 points ahead. Honestly, Charlie, learn to accept the facts for once."

"Do you s'pose we're close?" Jack asked abruptly, leaning over Charlie to stare out the window. "We must be nearly there; it's close to six."

Charlie shoved him again. "Get off, Jack. Yes, I think we're close. I'm pretty sure we just passed into Buckingham shire."

Eliza stood and stretched, then headed to the door. "Well, I'm off to find Sarah. I want to make sure she's ready so we can get home as soon as possible. I'll be back to get my stuff." The door slid shut behind her.

Fifteen minutes later, at six o' clock exactly, the train pulled into King's Cross Station and Charlie waved goodbye to his friends before heading off to look for his family. It wasn't hard – just find the largest group of redheads in the station – and no sooner had he raised a hand in greeting then Mum had swept him into a stifling hug. Charlie returned the hug for a moment, then gently pried himself loose. "Missed you too, Mum," he grinned at her, just before Percy and Bill found them and Mum's attention was diverted.

As soon as Mum was distracted, the twins pounced on him. "Did you hex anyone?" Fred demanded.

"Can you teach us?" George asked hopefully.

Charlie laughed. "You two don't even have wands yet! And from what I've heard, you're not very good at controlling your magic, either."

"Who told?" Fred exclaimed indignantly, while George protested: "We can too control out magic – that was on purpose!"

Charlie raised his eyebrows. "Are you telling me you blew up the chicken coop on purpose?"

"No! No, of course not – "

"It just wasn't an accident – " Fred tried to explain.

"Yeah, it was all perfectly under control – "

"Then it blew up. But it's fine! Everything's fine. No one got hurt."

"We had it under control," George finished firmly.

"So, will you teach us new hexes?" Fred asked hopefully.

"We'll see," Charlie assured them, even though he had no intention of letting them near his wand over the holidays. He didn't want them to bring the house down, and had learned his lesson the hard way two years ago when they'd managed to catch the Christmas tree on fire. Mum and Dad had both been at work and the only reason the house hadn't burned down was because Ginny's accidental magic had dowsed the entire house in water. She'd slept the rest of the day, and it had taken nearly four hours for Charlie and Bill to get the house reasonably dry again.

Ginny was talking animatedly with Bill, so Charlie approached Ron as the twins went to interrogate Percy.

"Hey, Ron," Charlie said cheerfully, pulling her into a brief hug. "How've you been doing?"

Ron squirmed, and Charlie let go. "Fine, I guess," Ron said, but she wouldn't meet Charlie's eyes and seemed to be trying to make herself invisible. "I want to go home."

Charlie felt his grin slipping, but he hastily fixed it back in place. "I'm sure we'll leave soon. As soon as we've got everyone. Did you see where Dad disappeared to?" Ron shook her head, and Charlie scanned the crowd.

"Molly!" Dad appeared, and Charlie noticed that he seemed agitated about something. "Kids! We've got to go. The muggles don't like where I parked, and I don't want to get in trouble with their police people."

The ride home to the Burrow was enjoyable. Charlie sat in the far back between Fred and Ginny, and they both regaled him with tales of the adventures they'd had at home while munching happily on sandwiches Mum had packed for the ride home. George joined in every now and then too, turning almost all the way around in his seat and kneeling so that he could face them. About an hour into the car-ride it started snowing, and when George began bickering with Ginny about what had actually happened when they hauled in the Christmas tree – according to George, the tree had gone up without a hitch, while according Ginny it had almost knocked the entire house down – Charlie took the chance to watch the snowfall. He liked snow, and often found that he missed it when he was home; it snowed more at Hogwarts in a month than it did the entire winter at home.

When they finally arrived at home, Charlie was sick of sitting (he'd been sitting all day) and climbed over Percy – who was fussing with his pet rat – in order to get out of the car as soon as possible.

"Ow, Charlie! Watch it," Percy complained. "You almost squashed Scabbers!"

"Sorry," Charlie said, hopping up and down in the driveway. "Mum, can I start getting things out of the back? I can help take everyone's stuff in."

"Thank you, Charlie dear, that would be fantastic," Mum said distractedly. She turned back to the car. "Out! All of you. Dad needs to park the car, and he can't do that with all of you still in there. And help Charlie with the luggage. Ronny, come with me. It's past time for your potions."

Ron climbed out of the front seat where she had been sitting and immediately started complaining. "I don't want to take the potions, Mum. They're not doing anything, and they taste foul."

Charlie opened the back of the Ford Anglia and started passing bags to Fred and Bill, who had come to help. He kept his ears peeled, though, trying to hear what Ron was saying about the potions. She hadn't seemed to think much of them in her letters, but she hadn't been herself at the station and Charlie thought he might be just a bit paranoid after Lyle's story of his uncle two nights ago.

"Ronny, we've had this conversation before," Mum sighed. "These potions are helping you with your gender-identity-disorder. You need to keep taking them, and that's final."

There was silence, then the sound of receding footsteps. Charlie glanced around the car, confused. Ron was walking up the pathway with Mum, who glanced back. Charlie quickly looked away so as not to catch her eye, but he felt the stirrings of the fear he'd felt since he left Ron on Platform 9 ¾ back in September. Why had Ron given in to Mum so easily, when she never had before? And why had Mum looked confused when she glanced back, as though this was something she didn't know anything about either?

Later that night, Bill and Charlie were laying in bed and talking quietly together when the door creaked open and a small figure slipped in. Charlie squinted, trying to figure out who it was as Bill sat up to get a better look.

"Ron?" Bill asked quietly as Ron hovered by the foot of Charlie's bed. "What are you doing here? Is something the matter?"

"I couldn't sleep." Ron's voice was oddly muted, and as much as he squinted in the near-darkness Charlie couldn't make out her expression. "I feel sick."

"Do you want me to get Mum, or Dad?" Bill asked uncertainly. "Or I could see if we have anything, if you like – " he broke off as Ron climbed over the foot of Charlie's bed and crawled under the sheets. Cautiously, Charlie wrapped his arms around her, and found that she was shaking. "Ron? Ron, what's wrong?" Charlie glanced up at Bill, who was looking just as confused as he felt. "Ron? Hey, it's okay."

"It's the stupid p-potion," Ron's miserable voice floated up from where she had buried her head in Charlie's blankets. "It makes me think things that aren't – aren't true, but I d-don't know what's true, because of this st-stupid potion!" Her voice dissolved into muffled sobs and Charlie clenched her tighter.

"Hey, Ron, listen, you're safe, okay? I've got you." Charlie tried to force down the panic that was building in his chest. Even when she fought with Mum, even when she had to dress up for family, Charlie had never seen Ron this upset. "Bill?" Charlie turned pleading eyes on his older brother.

"I haven't a clue," Bill whispered, but he too looked shaken. "Should I get Mum or …?"

Charlie shook his head. "No, don't, I just – Ron?" He shifted so that he wouldn't topple over, then tried to untangle Ron from the sheets. "Ron, look at me. I'm here, and Bill's here, and we're not leaving until everything's sorted out, okay? Promise. Ron. Listen, I promise, okay?"

Ron hiccupped, took a shuddering breath and whispered, "Yeah. Sorry."

"It's okay," Charlie reassured her again. Bill lay back down, but Charlie could tell he was still awake, and that he was watching them.

It took about fifteen minutes for Ron to settle down completely, and by the time her quiet, steady breathing filled the room it was nearly eleven. Even so, Charlie didn't feel tired. He kept running over the letters he and Ron had exchanged, conversations they'd had prior to Charlie leaving for Hogwarts, his conversations with Eliza and Lyle. He kept trying to find something, anything that should have told him that Ron needed him here.

At eleven thirty, Bill climbed out of bed and, after Charlie helped to carefully untangle her from the sheets, lifted Ron off Charlie's bed and disappeared into the hall to bring her back to her own room. Charlie lay in bed, waiting restlessly for Bill to get back. Conversations, written words, snippits of advice, and hidden warnings kept swirling through his head until he felt if he didn't do something his head might explode. The doorstep creaked slightly as Bill returned, and Charlie propped himself up, having decided that Bill might help him sort through his thoughts. Bill was always better at thinking rationally at times like these.

"Bill," he said quietly, "I need to tell you something."