The characters of this story are the property of J.K. Rowling. This story is purely made for enjoyment. So enjoy. :)

Chapter Three

Planning and Wondering

Most of the Weasleys were fast asleep in their beds. Molly, Arthur, Charlie, and Bill were in the living room, discussing Ginny's birthday. It was only three days until August 11th (marking Ginny's 8th birthday) and they were planning out the final touches. It wasn't going to be a big party, but nevertheless, they were going to try and make it the best birthday they could give her. Percy's birthday was next, and luckily they didn't have to go out for the boy's day; he never liked to celebrate it much anyway.

"What about a pink cake?" Molly asked fondly as Bill sketched out the design.

"Mum, you knew perfectly well that Ginny doesn't like pink," Bill said, rolling his eyes. "She likes carnation yellow, red, lilac. And bright green."

Molly sighed unhappily. "I know that, it's just that... Ginny's my baby girl. She deserves the best."

"And she'll get it," Charlie agreed. "The best that we can give her."

Arthur nodded. "Some cake, vanilla sponge of course, and ice-cream—cookie and cream, that's her favorite. A few of her favorite games. We have all her presents well hidden..."

"Someone remind me again why I couldn't have gotten her a broomstick?" Charlie asked glumly at the mention of presents.

"I don't approve of my daughter flying on those things," Molly said, clucking her tongue. "She could get hurt."

"Have some trust, Mum," Charlie said, shaking his head. "You let us boys fly on them. And Ginny loves Quidditch and everything. I've even heard her say she wants to be a chaser for her school house when she gets to Hogwarts. It would be a fruitless dream if she doesn't know how to fly."

"Ginny is not going to play Quidditch," Molly said firmly, shaking her head. "I don't want her flying either. When she greets to Hogwarts, she can do something else."

Arthur sighed. "Molly, when Ginny bets to Hogwarts, she'll HAVE to learn to fly. It's compulsory for first years. And by then, if she wants to play Quidditch, then she should have a chance at it. Every Weasley man born in the last ten generations has been brilliant on a broom. Why shouldn't Ginny?"

"She's not a Weasley man, she's a Weasley GIRL! Girls shouldn't have play Quidditch!" Molly snapped. Bill stifled a laugh.

"So what are the Holyhead Harpies?" He asked, trying and failing to keep the smile off his face. "Cross-dressers?"

Charlie belted out a loud laugh that surprisingly didn't wake up his sleeping siblings. Arthur couldn't help but smile, and Molly soon joined in afterwards. She shook her head and gave Bill and light slap on the head.

"It's a dangerous game and I don't want Ginny in it," she said, her voice making it final that the conversation was over.

Ginny woke up early that morning. She lay in her bed, groggy, and yawned as she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. It was dark in her room, darker than it would be with the lights out. She silently slipped off her bed and, without turning on her nightstand lamp, she walked sleepily over to her window and pulled the curtains away; it was still night outside. Dawn was approaching, but she could hardly see the sunrise on the horizon. She went over to her clock and checked for the time.

It was 4:41 a.m.

She sighed and went back to the window. She wasn't sleepy enough to go back to bed so she sat by the window and stared up at the sky. Most of the stars were gone, but there were still a small bit still out there. She couldn't see the moon either. It might have been on its way to the other side of the world by then.

Despite that, she opened the window and let in cool air from the outdoors. She folded her arms on the window sill and rested her chin on them, pondering to herself. Only a few more days until her birthday. She was excited for it. She hoped that she wouldn't get anything silly for her birthday because she didn't want to pretend to love it like she did the year before. Her last birthday wasn't bad, but her mother had made her a pink cake and gotten her dolls to play with.

Ginny didn't like dolls anymore, not since she was four; that seemed like a lifetime ago. She gazed up at the sky, her thoughts wandering to flying. Oh how she loved to fly. She knew her mother didn't approve of her wanting to fly like her brothers. She found in unfair because she knew she was a good flier. Little did her know that Ginny, since she was the age of six and had gotten jealous of Ron getting a broomstick for his birthday, used to sneak out to the Weasley broom shed and take on of her brother's broomsticks to fly with. No one knew of it, of course, because she knew that her mother would have a heart attack if she found out.

By now, she had gotten very good at it and wished that she could get a broomstick for her birthday like Ron and Charlie, but she knew it was too good to hope. Her mother would never let that happen. Maybe her father would get her another muggle toy? Fred and George... who knows what they would cook up. Ron couldn't get her anything without help from Bill and Charlie, and Percy would get her, and she bet her favorite jumper on it, a book. She hoped it wouldn't be a boring one like the other book her had given her for Christmas...

Ginny started humming to herself, becoming bored and restless in the silences of the morning. She wondered what else was going on in the world out there. She gazed in the direction of the Lovegoods' home. She had never been there, but remembered the time her mother had invited Mrs. Lovegood and her daughter, Luna, for tea every month. Around this time, the boys had always gone off to fly by the Paddock and left her in the house with her mother. Out of all the Weasleys, Ron and the twins were the only people who hadn't met Luna.

Ginny smiled at that thought. Luna was a lovely girl, but she was a little strange. She always had stories to tell about creatures Ginny had never heard of. She didn't believe in what Luna said, but she admired the fact that Luna was headstrong in her own beliefs. She envied her freedom to do whatever she wanted. Ginny couldn't do that often. Her mother babied her too much to let her make most of her own decisions. In was downright annoying.

As her thoughts traveled alongside her emotions, the melody of her humming started to change too. Ginny loved to sing and write poetry. She and Luna had once gone out to look at the garden gnomes and Ginny had said a poem about them that made the two girls laugh.

Oh, there you see,

A gnome in a hurry,

To escape my older brothers,

Who whirl them till their blurry.

She had only been six when she made that up and she had improved over the years. She gazed up at the stars and then towards the clock. At least half an hour had passed already. The sun was more visible on the horizon, but the sky was still dark. She heard movement on the under floor and figured that Fred and George had gotten up. She yawned again and walked away from the window to her bed, switching on the lamp beside it. Look around her room, humming again, her eyes fell on the poster of the Holyhead Harpies, her favorite Quidditch Team.

Without thinking about it subconsciously, Ginny said to herself:

A dream to fly above the rest,

To prove myself will take no test.

A winner to a blossom's bloom

And courage to undertake a broom.

She stopped and started giggling softly. Where did that come from?

Charlie, as quietly as he could, made his way down to the kitchen for a glass on water, trying carefully not to make a sound. She failed that while passing Fred and George's room and her prayed that no one was listening. He crept evermore quietly to the first floor, but as he passed Ginny's room, he saw light coming out from under her door.

"That's strange," he thought to himself. "What is she doing up?"

He walked silently over to her door and was about to knock when he heard her humming in her sweet little voice. Then she stopped and said one of her little poems and he had to smile. She really did want to fly, to rise about her brothers in the process.