Disclaimer: Wait. Do people still do disclaimers? You'll have to forgive me, I haven't written anything for almost three years. Well, actually I just haven't written any fanfiction for three years. Right. Anyway. Sorry, this is boring. So... Oh yeah, I don't own any of the characters as they belong to a certain author who shall remain named J.K. Rowling.
Author's Note: An ever-so-slightly teensy bit autobiographical. You'll see. Heh heh heh.

"I'm their sixth kid, so obviously any extraordinary magical ability's been all used up with the first five."

"Excuse me?" interrupted the youngest Weasley sibling, flashing Ron a deadly glare.

Ron rolled his eyes at his sister and sighed. "And Ginny's the first girl Mum and Dad had, so obviously she got her fair share of extraordinary magical qualities, too."

Harry had walked into the middle of a trademarked Ron Weasley tirade. He looked at Ginny who was admiring her own miming of the wand movements for a Bat Bogey Hex, being quite satisfied with Ron's response.

"Err," he said to Ginny, glancing at Ron, "What's he going on about?"

"Ron's thoroughly convinced yet again that he won't amount to anything."

Indeed, Ron went on to further clarify his position for anyone who might actually be listening and might actually care.

"Really, it seems that the truly extraordinary wizards happen to be born that way. You can't learn to be extraordinary."

"That's very true, Ron," concurred his brother, George, "Because Percy never learned to be the extraordinarily big-headed git that he is."

"Yes," agreed Fred, "He was definitely born that way."

"And what's more," Ron continued, customarily ignoring the twins' comments, "Wizards who are good at one thing are always good at tons more. If they're born with one gift, well, everyone knows they're really born with... well, at least two, right?"

Hermione finally could not pretend to read any longer. "What is your proof of all of this?"

"Well," started Ron before finally settling on staring at Harry in response.

"Don't look at me." Harry chided.

"Well, why not?" Ron shrugged, "You're a parselmouth and you're-"

"And I have Voldemort to thank for that."

"Oh... right..." Ron swallowed, keen to change the subject. "Well... well... what about Tonks, then? She can change her hair and her nose and... and stuff."

Hermione sighed. "That all falls under being a Morphmagus. That's one thing, Ron."

"Well... Well, so? I bet there's loads of things she can do besides."

"I wouldn't say 'loads of things'..." said Tonks, joining the room.

"But still, some things, right?" asked Ron hopefully.

She thought for a moment. "Well, I do have a sixth sense about Christmas trees."

"Maybe Tonks isn't the best example, either." Ron muttered.

"Hey!" she countered. "I'm serious! I always know even before walking inside someone's house if they've got their tree or not."

"It's just a feeling you get..." Fred surmised.

Tonks nodded. "Exactly."

"When you see sap and fir needles all over the ground and a tree-shaped object through the front window." George continued.

"No! No, I'm serious! I have a gift and-"

Tonks stopped suddenly as if possessed. "And... your father is bringing one for the Burrow right now. He'll be home any minute."

The room was silent for a moment and they heard the familiar sound of Apparating followed by a knock on the door. Tonks rushed out and greeted Arthur Weasley at the door, helping him drag a squat and bushy Christmas tree through the door and over towards the fireplace.

Ron scoffed. "I could've predicted that. Dad said this morning that he was getting one."

"But Tonks was in London this morning." Hermione reminded him.

"Oh... well... Well, she probably talked to Dad before he left to get the tree."

"Dad?" Ginny asked. "Our dad? Who every year refuses to invite what might be even the slightest distraction during his Christmas excursion to find 'The Perfect Tree'? Who couldn't be found on such an occasion even if Fred and George had blasted off their own heads in some sort of freakish experiment?"

"We run that risk in any of our normal experiments, not just the freakish ones." George commented, feeling much affronted.

"Well, then she could've talked to Mum. Or any of us!" said Ron resolutely.

Harry sighed. "None of us had heard from her for a week until this afternoon. And your mum was genuinely surprised to see her as well."

"Oh... Yeah... Right..." Ron faltered. "Well, but I mean, Christmas trees? It's still a load of rubbish."

"And yet, still a load of rubbish more talent than you've got, isn't it?" observed Fred.

"Oh. Yeah..."

"Ron, would you just get over it?" Hermione shut her book for emphasis. "You could be much worse off."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, thinking of his cousin Dudley. "You could be a muggle."

"Or a squib." Ginny added.

"Or Percy." George suggested while Fred pretended to vomit.

And, indeed, Ron looked very much relieved to be himself. After all, he was certainly at least moderately magical and he was definitely not Percy and, well, he'd really rather not be able to tell people whether or not he knew there was a Christmas tree in their house.