A/N: Here it is, the story I never thought I'd write. It's a sequel to Weasley Theories, which has now been changed to Weasley Theories: Ginny Weasley. I hope you enjoy this one just as much as you did that one! This story takes place before WT: Ginny Weasley and is from Ron's POV. I have written almost half of the story already, so I will update when I think I've gotten enough reviews. Haha, evil, I know. Enjoy, and remember to leave a review!
Chapter one: Introducing the Theories
I woke up one morning with a peculiar feeling. Something huge was happening that day, I knew it, but what? Just as I pondered this, my mother's voice floated up the stairs.
"Ronald! You better be awake by now, or I'll have Fred and George come fetch you! And that's a threat!"
I felt a small twinge of fear even though he knew Fred and George were at their own flat in London. Being woken up by them was not a pleasurable business, and I had learnt that the hard way, mind you.
"I'm up, mum!" I shouted and drew a hand through my uncontrollable mess of red hair, getting out of bed and walking to the closet.
What was it that was going to happen today? My sleep-addled brain worked furiously as I put on a pair of old jeans and a washed out T-shirt that had once belonged to Charlie – I could tell because of the fire-breathing miniature dragons on it – but I could not grasp what I obviously had forgotten.
"RONALD! I will send for Fred and George!"
I groaned. "What's the ruddy hurry, mum?" I then shouted through the closed door.
"Well, I want you and Ginny to clear out your rooms before Harry and Hermione gets here, of course!" came the answer.
I froze. Hermione was coming. How could I have forgotten?
"Shit!" I swore loudly, but thankfully not loud enough for my mother to hear me. I strode to the mirror and looked at my reflection. Why did my hair have to be so bloody wild? I looked like some sort of mushroom. As the mirror started cackling, I understood that I had said this aloud.
"But a very handsome mushroom, dear," it rasped.
"Well – thanks," I mumbled. I couldn't wear this when Hermione arrived!
"No, I agree with you, boy," the mirror said. "You really should change into a nice shirt or something of the sort."
I really need to stop saying everything on my mind.
"I wasn't talking to you," I snapped impatiently. "And I will not wear a bloody shirt!"
"Your mistake," said the mirror nonchalantly.
"Everything seems to be," I muttered while rummaging through my closet for a good T-shirt. "I hate bloody maroon!
Mum's threat of getting Fred and George on my back was not as empty as it should have been.
"There's our dear Ronnie!"
I groaned. Nothing could make me as frustrated as Fred and George. Except perhaps Hermione in a skirt, but that's a whole other kind of frustrated.
As I turned around and was met with two identical grins, I put my back against the wall.
"Please have mercy on me," I pleaded. "I can't deal with your mishaps today."
The twins both mock-gasped and looked at each other.
"You would think he doesn't want us here!" Fred said. Or perhaps George. I didn't have the strength to find that out.
"You should!" I muttered, but they ignored me completely, of course. Why would they ever listen to me? It's against their nature, I'm sure.
"Let's take a walk," one of them – I don't bloody care who – said.
"Are you going to kill me?" I asked, perhaps a bit too hopefully to not be concerned about me.
"Not today," the other one said. "Let's go to our room."
I laughed a little. "Your old room, you mean. It's full of cardboard boxes now."
"But of course, little brother, in the boxes are our first inventions."
I gasped. "Do you want this house to explode?"
But they both just laughed and led me towards the burned and scratched door that led to their old headquarters.
As they pushed me down to sit on one of their beds, I fought the urge to shout for mum to save me. I was sure this conversation would be terrifying, embarrassing or both. They usually were.
"So," said Fred – my fear had woken me up a bit, and I now knew who was who – and smirked evilly at me. "We have something most important to teach you."
"Is this about the cart wheeling down the stairs? Because I know you're just trying to kill me with that fib."
"No, no," said George, "this is something of a Weasley secret –"
"- which has been going from generation –" continued Fred.
"- to generation the last 200 years!" said George.
"And now you're gonna tell me, are you?" I was unbelievably unimpressed. "Don't you think I know this is some plan you two have… planned?"
They both fell silent, probably in shock of my poor vocabulary.
"Now," I continued, "if that's all, I really need to clear out my room before Harry and Hermione get here, or mum will flay me ali –"
"Ah!" said Fred and George together.
"There it is," Fred leered.
"Hermione," George leered identically.
I sighed and leaned down on my elbows. "What about her?"
"You fancy her –"
"- admire her –"
"- looove her –"
"- wants to f–"
"Hey!" I shouted.
"Yeah, yeah," Fred waved a hand dismissively, "wants to make sweet gentle love to her, then."
I knew I was incredibly red in the face. "I do not! Stop bullying me, you great… bullies!"
They both fell silent once again. George put a hand on my shoulder.
"Mate," he said, "you really need to learn some new words."
I shrugged his hand off and glared at them both. "Is there a point to all this?"
The twins straightened up. "There sure is!"
They both puffed their chests out and chorused, "The Weasley Theories!"
When that didn't get the reaction they wanted from me, they sagged again.
"What the bloody hell are the Weasley Theories?"
"Oh, my friend, shortly they will be the only thing you've ever known."
Fred clapped a hand on Georges shoulder and grinned at me.
"They will change that pathetic excuse for a life of yours, and finally get you the woman of your dreams!"
I didn't know whether to laugh at them or run to mum screaming like a girl. I decided to stay a little while longer.
"I'm gonna pretend you didn't say that, Fred. Tell me what the Weasley Theories are, and then let me be alone, alright?"
"What a party pooper," Fred chuckled. "Alright, we'll tell you."
Ron looked at them expectantly. Fred frowned.
"Exactly how are we gonna explain them, dear twin?"
George was frowning just as deeply as his twin brother. "Why, I don't know."
"Come on!" Ron hissed. "Harry and Hermione will be here in less than an hour!"
"Well, the Theories are quite simply… Theories!"
"That makes sense," Ron muttered.
"When you're a Weasley," Fred began, "you have certain personality traits. Such as." He gestured towards George.
"Fear of heights, bad sense of balance, no cooking abilities –"
"Wait a minute, what does this have to do with my life getting better in any way?" I was thoroughly confused.
"That, my dear Ronnie, you have to find out on your own," George grinned at me.
"Just keep your eyes open, and you'll get your girl."
I looked from one twin to the other. "Who told you about this?"
"Charlie," said Fred. "And Bill told him."
"Good luck, Ronniekins!"
And with two loud cracks, they were gone.