Disclaimer: Not my own! Don't even have a Weasley sweater!


"Bye Mum! I'm going out with Fred and George to play Quidditch!" A runty boy with flaming red hair shouted as he exited a warm, pleasantly cluttered kitchen. A cool, autumn breeze chilled the room as the door swung open.

"Ronald!" his mother cried out. But the door had closed before she could say, "Take a sweater with you." Clucking her tongue, she shook her head. "You'll catch cold."

Sidling up from behind her was another redheaded child, this one a girl. Little Ginny, with two holes in her smile asked, "What's wrong Mummy?"

"Your brother went outside without his sweater again," Molly told her daughter. She resumed kneading the loaf of bread she was working on.

Ginny mulled this thought over for a long time. Going outside without a sweater seemed nearly sacrilegious to the young six-year-old. They were so warm and smelled like spice biscuits. Who wouldn't want to wear one? "I'll take it to him!" Grinning brightly enough to light up the whole kitchen without a Lumos, the girl turned a pleading gaze to her mother. "I'll go and get it for him and put mine on and make sure he wears it."

Molly kindly smiled at her daughter and nodded her assent. Fast as a Nimbus, Ginny raced up the stairs to retrieve the maroon sweater that her brother had neglected. Pulling her own on, a hand-me-down from George, she sped out the door without a 'Bye Mum!" Dark blue sleeves flapped in the breeze she created.

It wasn't long before she caught up to her brothers. They had already taken flight and were playing a game of keep-away with the Quaffle. Ron looked quite frustrated, though she had to squint against the bright sun.

"Ron! Ron!" Ginny cried. "Mum told me to give you this!" She extended her woolen burden to him. The scowl on his face was easily apparent just as the twins' elation.

The jeering unison was, "Ickle Ronnikens forgot his sweater!" as Ron landed. Grumbling, Ron pulled the sweater over his head and nearly put his arms in the wrong holes. This caused the hoots and hollers to increase. He mounted the broom again, having stayed relatively silent throughout the encounter.

"Can I play too?" Ginny asked hopefully.

"You're too young," Ron scoffed as he flew up, up, up past her ability to punch him in the shoulder. She heard the implied statement 'You're a girl,' within the condescending remark.

She would fly. She would prove to all of her brothers that she could fly just like they could. No, not as good. Even better.