Hey, everyone! So, this has been a little story sitting in my documents folder for a while, since I've been extremely nervous about posting it. I'm nervous to post any Potter story though, since I feel like anything would be so inferior to both the other stories in the fanfiction community and especially to Ms. Rowling's superb writing. But, I've finally built up enough confidence in this one, and so I am posting it as my first Harry Potter Fanfic!

I do NOT own Harry Potter or its characters. I do not own the Burrow, though I would love to live in it.

Molly Weasley's Process of Hand-Me-Downs

Molly Weasley felt that she was a good mother. A pretty gosh darn bloody great mother, at that. And, clearly, she had it more difficult than many other mothers, Wizarding or not. Not all mothers had seven children, six of them being boys, including a pair of clever, mischievous, cunning, sneaking, and Cheshire cat-like identical twins.

Molly worked hard to ensure that her children received all the care, attention, and the occasional scorn that they deserved. She tried to keep everything even and fair, not wanting her children to think that she picked favorites out of her own litter.

Back when Molly and Arthur had only Bill and Charlie, it was Mrs. Weasley who made sure that they all lived in a suitable household for the large family that they would inevitably have. Had the wife allowed her husband to determine their settlement, the current family of nine would all be tightly squeezed into Shell Cottage.

But thank whatever higher power there is that it was indeed Mrs. Weasley who selected their loveable, leaning, grand home at the Burrow. Indeed, the structure isn't the most impressive of architectures, but it fulfilled the necessities of a household; it provided shelter and comfort, and that much was god enough for Molly.

And soon, the witch grew to love the house almost as much as she loved the family that resided within its tree bark walls. She watched as her children grew up between the building's wooden fortresses; watched as they plundered over their first steps and as they held their tantrums rolling across the carpeted floors.

Time flew by quickly. Much too quickly, Molly concluded, as the oldest of her children were now out of Hogwarts and her youngest just going in to Hogwarts. As a giving and caring mother, Molly felt guilty, quite guilty, for giving her daughter only the old, ragged hand-me-down spell books that each of the young witch's brothers had used and beaten in turn. Mrs. Weasley watched as eleven-year-old Ginny opened her new/old version of A History of Magic.

Or, Molly watched as her daughter tried to pry open the pages of the book. However, as Ginny pulled and pulled hard upon the hard covers, she found that she was incapable of ripping open the old book's pages. "Mum, can you charm this open for me? I think it's magically locked or something."

"Of course, dearie," Molly assured her youngest child, reaching over for the troubling book and pulling her wand swiftly out of her pocket.

Five minutes and twenty different spells later, the book still remained clammed stubbornly shut, absolutely refusing to break open for the woman of the house. In her frustration, Molly yelled out for her nearest son, "RONALD WEASLEY! WHAT IN GREAT SCOTT DID YOU DO TO THIS BOOK?"

"It wasn't me! It wasn't me!" the youngest Weasley boy defended himself. "I swear, I couldn't open the bloody thing at all last year! I didn't use it!"

A different thought rose to Molly's mind after hearing Ron's defense speech, "You. Never. Opened it?" Ron shrank back as his mother's face grew increasingly red to match her hair color, "Do you mean that you didn't study, Ronald?"

"I used Harry's! I borrowed Harry's book! Ask Fred and George!"

"BOYS!" Molly hollered up the stairs, "GET DOWN HERE THIS INSTANT!"

No movement came from above.


A few moments later, the twins were making their way down the stairway chattering excitedly to one another. "You know, mum," one of the redheaded tricksters said, "when you say 'boys' you could really be referring to anyone in the house."

Ginny gave a small cough causing the other ginger to say, "Right, Gin, even you!"

"George!" Molly admonished her son.

"I'm Fred, Mum."

"No you're not, I know the difference between my own two sons!"

"So what, I'm not a son anymore?" Ron jumped in.

"Ron, you were never a son. You're the weird cousin who hangs out here twenty four seven when no one really wants you here."


"I thought we just went over this; I'm George."

"Stop it this instant, all of you!" Molly demanded. She faced only the twins now, "Boys, which one of you glued this thing together?"

"What makes you think it was one of us, Mum? That book could have been in that state ever since Bill first used it"

Molly looked livid, "Georgeā€¦" she said in a threatening voice.

"Fred," the twin corrected, or maybe lied, the game got too confusing at times. "And it was this one here," he said, clamping his twin brother on the back.

"George, tell me, how do you undo it?"

"I'm Fred, Mum," Mrs. Weasley seemed like she was about to boil over in anger. "No, I swear, I really am Fred, Mum. You had it right the first time."

"Whoever you are at the moment," Molly seethed, "Just how do you open it?"

Fred shrugged, placing his hands in his pockets. "You can't," he said simply.

"That's just it, is it?" Molly Weasley gritted her teeth together. "It just won't open? FRED WEASLEY, WHAT DID YOU DO TO IT SO IT WON'T OPEN? YOUR SISTER NEEDS THIS BOOK FOR SCHOOL, AND I AM NOT GOING OUT TO BUY ANOTHER!"

"Mum, Mum!" George interrupted his mother's tantrum, as she looked prepared to strangle Fred as the slightly terrified twin had backed up into a wall with no means of escape. "Relax! I've got an extra in our room. Ginny can have mine!"

Molly felt herself cool down a good ten degrees. "Thank you, George," she said. "Would you mind fetching it now? All of you go."

The four children present all complied and scurried their ways up the stairs. Molly sighed and held a hand to her forehead, wandering into the kitchen and taking a much-needed seat on one of the chairs.

She had to bless herself for having at least one responsible twin. But, then again, she had to curse at herself for ever having twins at all. Twins just didn't suit the Weasley lifestyle very well at all; it made things very inconvenient and much more expensive.

Had she birthed only one child at the time she had given birth to her two most troublesome sons, there would be no need for all the doubles that she had in her life. She and Arthur wouldn't have had to buy an extra set of spell books, an extra pair of robes, an extra wand, an extra bed, an extra place set, etc, etc. The Weasley children could have simply bought one set of everything school related and just have the items be passed on down the line up to the very last Weasley child. The process of inheritance and hand-me-downs would be so much simpler if it wasn't mandatory to buy extras whenever it came time for the twins to put the objects to use.

Still, the tired mother supposed that it all evened out somewhere along the road, in cases such as the one she had just observed where one of her children would inevitably destroy a perfectly fine piece of work and the other, less meddlesome half would jump in and save the day with his spare copy.

Molly smiled to herself. They all balance each other out so well, she thought. Percy's uprightness counterbalanced Fred and George's billowing antics. Bill's respectfulness evened out Ron's occasional outbursts and hot temper. Charlie's adventuring soul clashed with Ginny's shyness; though Molly was sure that Ginny's timid attitude would be altered over the course of a few years.

Lastly, there was herself, Mrs. Weasley, and her husband. The aging witch wasn't sure how, but the two of them somehow even each other out in the most ideal of ways.

The family reflects the Burrow itself, Molly thought. Some areas stick out farther than others and it's completely and uncontrollably chaotic, but the structure always stays standing and strong.

I really hope that you guys enjoyed it! Please leave a review (preferably signed so I can thank you).