C h a p t e r O n e:

A laugh and a half.


"Wakey, wakey, deary~" cooed a voice startling me out of my slumber.

"Goooo away, mum." I ordered my voice sluggish and gurgled from the drool that had piled up in my mouth.

"Harriet Angela Weasley! I'm not your mother but you'll respect me as such!" screeched a voice and despite my half-awake state I could immediately determine who it was.

"Yes, Molly…" I replied with a grimace at the use of my full name, I was one of the many that had learned to fear Molly's wrath. Bringing myself into a sitting position and allowing my eyes to adjust to the bright light I was able to see Molly, towering above my bed with little Charlie resting snuggly on her hip.

After seeing to it that I was indeed not going to fall back asleep, Molly made a beeline out the door, probably eager to get breakfast started.

"And technically, I should respect you as a sister-in-law!" I called to her retreating form, testing the waters a bit and definitely testing Molly's patience along with it.

Molly presumably pursed her lips before murmuring to her young son, "Always the smart mouth, that one."

The corners of my mouth turned upwards at this as I stood, rummaging through my belongings in search of my glasses.

It was a load of bullocks that I had to get up this early, but Molly was always the practical one when it came to being overly prepared and on time, I suppose that's one of her endearing qualities that my elder brother finds so charming…

"HARRIET ANGELA-" I rolled my eyes, praying for a pair of those Muggle earplugs.

"Good Lord, I'M COMING MOLLY!" I exclaimed, sliding on my thick rimmed glasses and stomping down the stairs.

"Auntie Etta!" squealed my eldest nephew as I was engulfed in a hug.

"Billy!" I squealed back, scooping him up in my arms and plopping down at the kitchen table.

"S'bout time you came downstairs, Etta" remarked Arthur Weasley, my big brother and as of recently, caretaker. He looked quite cool with the tip of his ginger colored head poking out from behind the front page of The Daily Prophet.

"What's this?" I cried in outrage, thwaping my fist against the table.

"GERMANY FOR THE WIN!" was printed across the front page accompanied with a moving image of those bloody twats basking in victory.

"Oh, come off it! You don't even know how to play the game, Harriet! Now sit down, hurry up! We've got a busy schedule today and such!" Molly lectured, a steaming plate of breakfast appearing in front of me.

It smelt delicious save for the huge pile of Brussels sprouts.

"Molly, you know I hate them!" I whined, shoving my plate forward.

"I figured you'd need the extra energy that they'd provide you, mind you, you're not a child anymore, Harriet. You need to eat grown up foods!" Molly rambled, although her tone led me to believe that she was teasing me a bit.

It was remarkable how old she seemed when the truth was that she and Arthur were fresh out of Hogwarts, well technically they were fresh out of Hogwarts in 1968, but it's only 1976…So you see my point? But she already had two sons, with another on the way, so I assume that's why she was so grown up already.

"Yes, yes. Etta. You're a big girl, going into your fifth year~" Arthur stated, sounding quite proud as he folded up his newspaper.

"Thank you, Arty. You're a big girl too" I beamed, leaning across the table to pat him on the cheek.

Bill giggled at me before announcing that he wanted to grow up and be a big girl, just like Auntie Etta and daddy.

Naturally, this ticked Molly off and sent me into bouts of laughter.


"Come now, Etta. Give us a kiss, goodness dear you're growing up so fast!" Molly exclaimed promptly bursting into tears as she kissed both my cheeks.

You knew that Molly Weasley was a bit off her rocker, overemotional and all that when she failed to call a one Harriet Angela Weasley by her full name.

"Please remember for when you regain your sanity, Molly. It is indeed Etta." I suggested, hugging her tightly, but not tight enough as to squish the baby bulge she was spouting.

Molly released me, sniffling slightly as I bent down and tapped on her tummy.

"You there! Young man, don't you go giving your mummy any trouble or nasty thumps when she's trying to sleep. And also, don't you go bursting out of there a second before I get home for Christmas break or I'll teach Billy to be quite the bully-" I warned, wagging my finger at Molly's tummy.

"Good heavens!" Molly cried in outrage, holding her tummy protectively.

At this I grinned before, moving over to the men in my life and giving them each a kiss on the cheek.

"Be good boys" I emphasized upon receiving a look from Molly.

"Very good boys," I repeated, "Even you, Arty" I added, smiling at my brother.

"Of course, Etta. No boyfriends by the way!" Arthur suggested sternly as I rolled my eyes.

"Yes because I'm so~ooo attractive" I scowled, gesturing to my geeky glasses and head full of flaming red hair.

"You're beautiful, absolutely lovely, dear. NOW GET A MOVE ON!" Molly stated, interfering with my private moment of self-loathing.

"Righty oh!" I called, sounding a bit stereotypical in my British accent.

I quickly turned to my cart, full of all the odds and ends I'd need to survive my fifth year of Hogwarts, before turning tail and ramming into a brick wall, looking like quite the mad woman to those who didn't notice that I went through the wall.

"SHIT!" seethed a voice as I ran, cart first into a fellow witch or wizard.

"Watch where you're going, you fucking prat—"snarled a masculine voice.

"Bugger. Off." I stated simply, staggering to my feet and promptly brushing myself off.

The male in question looked like he was about to retort with a smart mouthed reply, when he paused to simply smirk at me, his face entirely too smug for my liking.

"Harry? Harry Firecrotch?" he inquired, quirking a rather sexy brow at me.

And there it was; the single most humiliating nickname in the history of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and the absolute buffoon who has branded me with it.

"Sirius Black, my, you're a laugh and a half" I scoffed before promptly kicking him in the shin.