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This story was voted Winner of "Best Humour Fic" in the 2008 Reviewer's Choice Awards, by members of The Reviews Lounge forum.
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Title:
"Six Foot Of Ginger Idiot (or, Ron Weasley's Year Six Diary)"
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Story summary:
The whole of Half-Blood Prince from Ron's point of view. You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll want to shake him.
Rated 18 for some sexual references and, since this is Ron's diary, a whole lot of creative swearing.
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Notes from the Author:
This is my first ever fanfic. I hope you like it because it took me 18 months to write. Be gentle!
To head off anyone who might complain about the swearing: 1) I tried to write a version for SugarQuill without any swearing and it just did not work, 2) I get the train with a lot of sixteen year old schoolboys every morning and this is nothing, and 3) A quote from JKR herself: "My editor won't let any of the characters swear, which is sometimes difficult because Ron is definitely a boy who would swear." Well, if she'd let him, who am I to stop him?!
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This is for Sarah, my other favourite person from Devon.
Thanks for reading, and please review!
JULY
July 19th
Firstly I want to say that I've never kept a diary in my life before now. Words are not exactly my strong point, and anyway, diaries are for girls. And people who don't have "the emotional range of a teaspoon." But I've been driving myself nuts lately and there's no-one to talk to about it, and my sister says writing it down might help. Yeah, that's the kind of loser I am, I take advice from my sister. She's my little sister too. How cool am I?
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Anyway, I don't know how you usually start these things. My name's Ron Weasley, I'm sixteen, I'm still at school, obviously. I live in Devon, right out in the sticks. What else? I'm tall, I've got red hair, I like playing Quidditch - I'm Keeper on our House team but I'm not very good. I've got five older brothers and a younger sister. I'm stupid at lessons. I'm told I'm funny. Oh yeah, and I really fancy my best friend. I'm not gay or anything, it's a girl. So that's okay. Except it isn't, not really. It's the summer holidays and she's been at my house for a couple of days now. Most of the time it's fine, it's great, we get on like a house on fire. Harry says we argue all the time, but that's not true. We can both talk for England, that's for sure. But it's not arguing. And anyway, I'm the second youngest of seven, if I didn't argue I'd never get a bloody word in.
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We've been friends for five years and I think if I'm honest I've always known - well, no, that's not true, when I first met her I thought she was a total pain in the arse. But she didn't like me either, she thought I was a complete idiot - so not much has changed there! I dunno, maybe somewhere in the back of my head I knew, it just took me about a million years to actually admit it to myself, that's all. This last year I find myself thinking about her all the time, in the wrong sort of way, if you know what I mean. And sometimes I think maybe she feels the same way, but obviously I must be imagining it, because why in the name of Merlin would she fancy me? She's the smartest girl in school, and I'm this fuckwit she hangs around with for some reason.
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When I'm around her I always have this running commentary in my head: "Why did you say that, Weasley, you troll?", "Oh well done, really witty", and mostly, "Stop staring at her!" I used to be alright around her, she was, you know, just my friend, but these days it seems to happen more and more that suddenly it's like my mouth has seized up and I can't speak to her at all except to make little jibes which I don't mean. I hear myself saying these things and I think yeah, great, well done, that was really smooth, that was. That's definitely the way to get a girl to like you, insult her in front of other people. You are such a tool, Weasley.
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I'm writing this in bed and she's downstairs in Ginny's room - that's my sister - and I can't help thinking about her. How does she sleep, does she curl up or lie on her side? Does she snore? What does she do with her hair? She has a lot of very curly brown hair, you could stuff a mattress with it. She hates her hair, but I quite like it. She wouldn't be Hermione without the hair. Sometimes if I'm standing close enough her hair brushes my face and it's like my skin is on fire. I am honestly sure she must know, because I go bright red and get really hot. I am sort of hot thinking about it now. And on that note, I think it's time to say goodnight. Ahem.
July 20th
Here's the kind of thing Harry's talking about when he says we argue all the time. She comes into my room this morning brushing her hair, which always seems to take her about half an hour, I suppose because there's so much of it, and says, "Your mum says are you ready Ron, because we're leaving in five minutes." I'm lying on my stomach on the floor with my arm stretched out under the bed trying to find my other shoe, so of course I'm all red-faced and dusty and a bit panicky 'cos sometimes there are spiders under the bed and I hate spiders. You wouldn't like them much either if a hundred giant hairy ones had tried to eat you. I tell her, "I can't find my fucking shoe!" She gets all huffy and says, "There's no need to swear at me, it's not my fault!" I come out from under the bed and try and explain that I wasn't swearing at her, I was just swearing in general, but it's too late, she's already pissed off with me and it's not even ten o'clock. Harry asked me later, "What have you done to upset her now?" Like it's always my fault!
July 21st
Got our OWL results today - SEVEN PASSES! That's more than Fred and George put together! Didn't do anywhere near as badly as I thought I would. Mostly Acceptables, but I also got, wait for it, an Exceeds Expectations in Defence Against the Dark Arts, woo-hoo! Only failed Divination and History of Magic and who cares about them anyway? Even Hermione says Divination's a waste of time, and History of Magic was the dullest lesson ever, so there's no way I'm gonna be doing it at NEWT level. Frankly I'm just amazed I didn't get T for Troll in everything. Hermione got all Outstandings of course, apart from one E which she was actually upset about. Harry did alright as well. He's my other best mate, obviously not a girl. I don't fancy him. The three of us all hang around together so obviously I can't tell him, and anyway he's got loads of other stuff to worry about. Oh my God, I can't believe I got an E! I've never got an E in anything in my life! Ironic how I'm really pleased with my one E and she's really disappointed with hers. Shame it wasn't in the same subject, then I could really rub it in about how I'm just as smart as she is now. Look, it's there in black and white! It's official! Heh heh…
July 22nd
Sod it. I was all pleased with myself for about five minutes there - woo-hoo, I didn't fail everything! - but then Harry pointed out that since neither of us got an O in Potions, we can't do it at NEWT level, and of course that's one of the qualifications you need to be an Auror, isn't it? I can't decide whether to be happy because I won't have to do lessons with Snape anymore, or pissed off because that means I definitely won't get to be an Auror, and that was my one idea, and now I don't have a clue what I'm supposed to do with my life. I wouldn't mind, but mum's already started banging on at me about it: "So have you thought about what you might want to do when you leave school?" NO! Give me a break, it's like two years away! Why do I have to decide now?
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Of course, I get the usual speech about my wonderful brothers and how Charlie and Percy both knew what they wanted to do when they left school. I point out that Bill didn't, but of course, she's got an answer for that too: "No, but Bill was always going to be successful, whatever he did. He could have got any job he wanted." - big proud sigh for Number One son - "But that's because he worked really hard and got top marks in all his exams."
Yeah, well, that's bollocks, for a start. I know for a fact that Bill did next to no revision and spent most of the two week exam period with a hangover, because he told me so. Still got top marks though, the git.
Of course, I can't tell Mum that, so I just mutter, "Well, good for Bill."
She snaps, "It wouldn't do you any harm to take a few lessons from Bill, you know!"
Me: "Alright!"
Her, ruffling my hair, which is really annoying, "Fine, go and play with your friends, then. Just promise me you'll give it some proper thought. It's important!"
Me: "Mum! I'm sixteen! I don't play!"
Her: "Promise?"
Me, almost shouting: "YES!!"
Her, shaking her head and sighing: "You were such a lovely baby too..."
Jesus. You'd think I was still ten years old, the way she talks to me sometimes. And I seriously doubt I was ever a lovely baby. Good thing Hermione wasn't there, or she'd be getting out the sodding baby photographs again. She did that once, and I had to sit there while they nearly wet themselves laughing looking at pictures of me naked in the bath aged two. Aaargh!! Why do mums do that? It's like they know exactly the thing that'll embarrass you the most, and they deliberately go and do it.
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She obviously thinks I'm never going to amount to anything, either. I remember the conversation I had with her last Summer when I told her I wanted to be an Auror and she basically said there was no way on God's earth that was going to happen. I think her exact words were, "They only take the best, you know." Translation: Not you! I might as well have said I wanted to play Keeper for England or be the Minister for Magic. Okay, so maybe it wasn't very likely they'd have taken me, 'cos she's right, they only take one or two people every year and they're always the Bills of this world - those annoying people who are good at everything. You know, straight O's in all their lessons, popular, good-looking, confident, athletic, and oh, a million other things that I'm not. Bastards.
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How cool would it have been to be an Auror though? Well, maybe not the getting your leg blown off and losing an eye and stuff like Moody did, but just to be out there, actually doing something, fighting You-Know-Who and getting paid for it too, it just sounded like the coolest job in the world. Better than being stuck at a desk in a three foot square cubicle in the Ministry of Magic for forty years anyway. Well, that's not fair, Dad loves his job. But I don't wanna be doing that for the rest of my life. I know what I don't want to do, I just don't know what I do want to do anymore. What am I good at? Hmm, let's think… Oh, I know: nothing. I wonder if someone would pay me to annoy Hermione? That's one thing I know I'm good at!
July 27th
Unbelievable! I have been grounded! Grounded! I can't even be bothered to explain why, let's just say it involved an argument with Ginny which ended with her kicking me in the ankle and me swearing at her, and neither of us realising that Mum was in the next room and could hear everything. I suppose at least Ginny's been sent to her room as well. And at least it was after dinner so Mum couldn't send me to bed without any supper like she used to. But it's still pretty embarrassing. And monumentally uncool in front of Hermione. Cool people don't have fights with their little sister, no matter how annoying she is. It's only half eight as well, what am I supposed to do for the rest of the evening? Any suggestions? Any clean suggestions?
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Ha, I can just hear Mum's voice now: "Maybe you could use this time constructively to consider your career options." "Maybe you could finally throw out all those old Quidditch magazines under your bed." "Maybe you could clean out your owl cage. Really, is it too much to ask that you might actually look after your own pet?" "Maybe you could actually tidy your room for once. Those socks won't pick themselves off the floor, you know." Me: "Maybe you could stick it up your - " Heh. Like I'd ever dare say anything like that to her. I'd be grounded 'til Christmas. Next year.
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Piece of advice for you: Don't ever start an argument with Molly Weasley, because you won't win. There's a Muggle expression - "She wears the trousers" - meaning, she's the one in charge. Well, my mum definitely wears the trousers in our house! Not that she's ever actually worn a pair in her life - witches don't wear trousers. At least, witches of my mum's age don't, Ginny and Hermione do. Mum doesn't like Ginny wearing jeans, she thinks it's improper. "Thousands of years of tradition for my children to dress like common Muggles!" She should see some of the things the girls at school wear, she'd have a heart attack on the spot. Skirts that come up above the knee and everything.
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Anyway, my point is, if you have to get caught doing something you shouldn't, Dad's definitely the one you want to get caught by. Not that he's a pushover, just that you won't have to stand there for ten minutes while Mum yells at you in a pitch so high dogs in Cornwall can probably hear it. Mum's got the classic redhead temperament. You don't want to get in her way when she's angry about something. You especially don't want to be the thing that's made her angry in the first place. Dad's quite laidback. Bill says he's the calm at the eye of the storm. He needs to be, with us lot.
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Mum's forty-five and Dad's forty-six. Dad's tall and skinny like me and wears glasses and is losing his hair. So that's something I've got to look forward to, I don't think. Me, Bill and Percy all take after Dad. Charlie and the twins and Ginny all look more like Mum. Mum's shorter and, um, not skinny. Mind you, she has had seven kids. Two of them at the same time. They've both got red hair, so we didn't stand a chance with that one.
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Dad works for the Ministry of Magic. He used to work in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts department, but he got promoted recently and now he's the head of his own department. He likes mending things. He's got a shedful of Muggle rubbish which he used to spend all of his evenings happily messing about with until, well, other things got in the way. Mum would send me out to the shed with a cup of tea for him, and I'd get stuck there all evening while he tried to get me interested in plugs and serkit boards and stuff. These days all his time's full up with doing things for the Order instead. We're not allowed to ask what, apparently. Nobody tells us anything, it's really unfair. I mean, I'm not a kid anymore, I'll be seventeen in six and a bit months. I'll be of age. And like Ginny says, "Who was it who fought Death Eaters at the Ministry again? Oh yeah - us!"
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Oh God, I can't wait 'til I'm seventeen! How excellent will it be when I can finally do magic out of school? I'll never have to peel a potato or do the washing up ever again! And every time Mum starts to have a go at me I can just DisApparate out of here and Apparate somewhere else. Like the pub. Or Hermione's bedroom. Yeah, that would definitely be in my top ten places to Apparate. I could Apparate in the pub first, then I could pretend I'd mistakenly Apparated in her bedroom because I'd had too many Firewhiskies. Whoops, sorry, must have taken a wrong turn there! Charlie told me once that the first law of Apparition is "Never Apparate While Drunk". He did it one time and ended up in Aberdeen instead of Abergavenny. Or was it the other way around? Either way, it was 300-odd miles away from where he was supposed to be. What the hell is that racket?
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Heh. Sounds like Mum's having a go at Ginny again. I'm just glad it's not me for a change. Wish I could hear what they're saying, but I don't want to risk going out on the landing and them hearing me. Bloody creaky floorboards. Ha! I definitely heard that! "I'm not twelve!" You tell her, Gin. I'm almost tempted to do a Percy and stick my head out and yell, "Do you mind? Some of us are trying to study!" Oh, come on, it would be funny! Right up 'til the point where Mum made me do the washing up every day for the rest of the holidays. Hey, Ginny, do you think you could shout any louder, there are probably some people in the next village who can't hear you!
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It's a good thing there are no neighbours around for miles actually, because it's always noisy in this bloody house. You can never get any peace. I reckon that's half the reason Dad used to spend so much time in the shed. And why Bill and Charlie both left home the second they got jobs and got as far away as possible - Bill went to Egypt to be a code-breaker for Gringotts and Charlie went to Romania to work with dragons. They're both back now, living up in London, doing top secret stuff for the Order. I think Mum's happier they're back in the country, but to be honest they were probably safer abroad.
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All my brothers live in London now. Fred and George have just opened up a joke shop in Diagon Alley and they're living in the flat above the shop. Raking it in too, by all accounts. It's funny, Mum used to complain all the time about the amount of noise we made, but now they've left she complains the house is too quiet! Although Dad always says there's no such thing as a quiet house with a Weasley in it. Me and Ginny learnt pretty quickly that the only way to make yourself heard in our house was just to keep talking as loudly as possible until somebody actually started listening. Especially when you're competing for attention with Fred and George. You think I'm loud, try living with those two.
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I'm glad they're not here anymore, actually. Not just because Harry can have their old room and I get mine all to myself again, but also because when they are here, they never miss an opportunity to wind me up. They seem to consider it their mission in life. When I was a kid I really got the sharp end of all their stupid schemes and practical jokes. Ginny never really got tortured as much as I did because she's younger, and she's a girl, but I got it all the time. There's an abandoned barn near our house and they locked me in it once, when I was about five, and told me that when it got dark, spiders would come out and crawl on me. I was too scared to go to sleep for about three days. That was really fucking hilarious. Every time they learnt a new spell they'd test it out on me as well. They were utter bastards, actually. Before I came to Hogwarts they told me that at the sorting ceremony they made you answer loads of really hard questions in front of the whole school and that's how they decided what house you were going to be in. They said if you got all the questions wrong they'd put you in Hufflepuff, because that's where all the dunces were. I was really worried about it for ages because the rest of the family have all been in Gryffindor and I was convinced I wouldn't know any of the answers and mum and dad would be angry with me.
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They also used to teach me rude words but not what they meant, so I'd use them in front of mum and get a smack round the ear. Or worse, no pudding! That was really unfair, 'cos then mum would say, "Ron isn't allowed any pudding because he's been naughty, so someone else can have his share" and Fred or George would get to tuck into my chocolate sponge or treacle tart. God, I used to get the blame for stuff they did all the time. It was always two against one, I could never win. I didn't even get to pick on Ginny in return because she's the youngest, and the only girl, so she gets away with murder. It was always, "Be nice to your sister!" Never "Be nice to Ron", you notice. There are no advantages to being the second youngest. At least Ginny actually got stuff new. Being the youngest boy I just got all my brothers' hand-me-downs. Not even second-hand, fifth-hand!
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They're sickeningly self-confident, too, Fred and George, there's never been anything they thought they couldn't do. They just don't care. They dropped out of school before their finals and Mum went ballistic, but they weren't even worried. They never seem to worry about anything. I guess when there's two of you there's always someone else to egg you on or back you up. Especially when you've got a kid brother you can put the blame on instead. Oh, alright, I suppose they weren't all bad. They might have enjoyed torturing me themselves, but they wouldn't let anyone else do it. A boy from the village once pushed me into a puddle and threw one of my shoes over a hedge, so I had to limp home all muddy and dripping wet and minus a shoe. Mum went spare. I only had the one pair of shoes, so she wasn't exactly delighted that I'd lost one of them, even though it wasn't my fault. I remember Fred and George telling me they'd sort it out, and every time I saw him after that he had this horrible rash that strangely never seemed to clear up… Ha ha! Never pick on someone with five older brothers!
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There's quite a large age gap between Bill and Charlie and me and Ginny. I would have been only one or two when Bill went away to school and then by the time I started at Hogwarts myself they'd both already left home, so I never really spent as much time with them as the others. They were a bit like cool uncles who'd turn up now and then and bring you sweets and hang you upside down and try to make you laugh. Especially Bill. I think I hero-worshipped Bill a bit when I was younger. Who wouldn't want to be like Bill? He was Head Boy, but not in a swotty way like Percy, he was popular, he was smart, he was funny, he was just very, very cool. After he left home he'd make these lightning visits and throw the whole house into excitement. It'd be like, "Bill's back!" and me and Ginny would fight each other to get downstairs first and see what he'd brought us. Sometimes he'd turn up with these glamorous women in tow and you can imagine the effect that had on a houseful of boys, all of us showing off like mad. Mum would get all flustered trying to impress them and scold Bill for not warning her in advance: "And the house all upside down and me in my apron…" She never really got annoyed with him, though. Bill's always been mum's favourite. He can't do anything wrong. Ginny's the same, she can get away with murder. Oldest and youngest, see. Like I say, there's no advantage in being the second youngest.
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Actually, I say he can't do anything wrong, but you should have seen Mum's face when he told us he and Fleur were getting married. You'd think he'd just announced he had a terminal illness or something. Mum cried for about three days. I don't think she likes Fleur much, but then I suppose no woman was ever going to be good enough for her precious Bill. Or Beel, as Fleur calls him. Ginny's not exactly delighted either. She reckons Fleur's a stuck-up cow, but if you ask me she's just jealous. I mean, if you were drop-dead gorgeous and had every bloke within a thirty-mile radius fawning over you, you'd have a pretty high opinion of yourself too.
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I'm really glad Harry and Hermione are here now, actually. Not just for the obvious reasons, either. I needed some distraction because Fleur's staying with us at the moment and she's - well, not only is she absolutely gorgeous, she's also part-Veela, so every time she walks into the room I find myself going a bit funny in the head. Ginny's been giving me grief about it all summer. Hey, it's not my fault, it's like a spell, she just has this effect on men! I don't know how Bill copes, being around her all the time. I suppose I'd better get used to it now they're engaged, 'cos she's going to be around a lot more from now on. Poor Ginny's going to be a bridesmaid, which she's obviously delighted about, ha ha. Mainly because it means she gets to wear a big frilly number and spend loads of extra time with Fleur. Hey, Gin, I'll swap with you! Well, not the being a bridesmaid, obviously. I don't think anyone wants to see me in a dress.
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I'm going to have to be a lot more careful around Fleur now Hermione's here, actually. It's not the best idea to be caught obviously drooling over your brother's girlfriend, especially in front of the girl you fancy. I went to pull out Fleur's chair at dinner tonight so she could sit down, and Hermione said disgustedly, "I'm sure Fleur's more than capable of sitting on a chair without assistance from you, Ron." Before I could say anything Fleur said - excuse my terrible French accent - "Ee ees jerst being a gentleman, 'Ermione." I said, "Yeah! See? I'm being a gentleman!" and Hermione looked furious and wouldn't speak to me for the rest of the evening. Or 'Ermione, I should say, ha ha. It's even sexier in a French accent. 'Er-my-oh-nee. You should hear the way she rolls her Rs when she says RRRon as well. Oh dear.
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Anyway, where was I? Yeah, so that's Bill: very laidback, very funny, smart, good-looking and popular. You can tell we're related, can't you?! Actually, we do look quite similar, except for the good-looking bit, ha ha. I'm not quite as tall as he is yet but I'm taller than all the others, so I'm hoping in a few years I might overtake him. He's six two, I think, so I've still got another couple of inches to go. I will beat him at something! Actually, I do sometimes beat him at chess, that's my one talent, really. I can beat most of them but Bill's pretty good and so is my dad, so it's not a foregone conclusion like it is when I play Hermione. I love playing her. She's really terrible at chess, but it does give me the chance to spend the entire evening watching her while she's got her head down concentrating on the game. Is that a bit wrong? It is, isn't it? Anyway -
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I always thought I was more like Charlie than Bill when I was younger, although not so much now. Charlie's a man of few words, at least, compared to the rest of us. He was the one mum always worried about, at least until Fred and George really got going, because he was always coming home with nasty Quidditch injuries, then later on, magical creature bites and dragon burns. He tried to get me interested in that whole side of things as well, brought me home some frogspawn once, but it was always the Quidditch I was really interested in. Charlie's seven years older than me so by the time he got on the school team I'd have been about five, and then once he was made Captain I started really getting into it. I got to come up to the school once with mum and dad for the final, when I was about eight, I was so excited about it, Jesus! I'd never been up the school before, and mum and dad were always banging on about when they were at Hogwarts, Bill and Charlie and Percy were full of stories about it, Fred and George were due to go the following year, and I just couldn't wait 'til it was my turn.
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Anyway, the match: it was great, a real nailbiter, only ten points in it, and they won! All his team mates carried Charlie around the pitch on their shoulders - he's a big bloke too, Charlie - and they were all chanting his name, the crowd too: "Char-lie! Char-lie! Char-lie!" It was just brilliant. How cool was Charlie? I got really obsessed with Quidditch after that. I pestered Dad for ages to take me to a proper match. That's the reason I ended up supporting the Chudley Cannons, because they were the only team Dad could get tickets for. They were bottom of the league then. I think Dad knew a bloke at work who knew a bloke.
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It's a shame Charlie didn't take it further though. People were always saying he could have played for England. I still meet people now who say, "Oh, you're Charlie Weasley's little brother? When's he going to give up all that dragon rubbish and go back to playing Quidditch?" Charlie just says if you'd got the chance to work with dragons, nothing else in the world compares, even winning the World Cup didn't have the same appeal anymore. He's got a tattoo of a dragon on his leg, he showed it to me once on the promise I didn't tell mum, because she'd have gone ballistic. It's really cool, he had it done in Romania with all the other blokes he works with. I think they were drunk. It would have been brilliant though, imagine having a professional Quidditch player in the family! He might even have got to play against Bulgaria. I'd have paid good money to see a Weasley boy knock Krum off his broomstick with a Bludger. "That's it, Charlie, aim for the crotch!"
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So then there's Percy, who's definitely not cool. Percy would never get drunk and get a tattoo. I think he must have been the bane of the twins' lives like they were with mine. Mum was always saying to them, "Why can't you be good like Percy?" And they'd always say, "Because we're not boring gits!" I suppose to be fair to him it can't have been much fun being the quiet boring swotty stuck-up one in a family full of loud people. Ginny's got a theory, actually, on why Percy grew up to be so sensible (boring!). 'Cos there were three whole years when Charlie and Bill were off at school and mum had her hands full with me and Ginny, who were both still under five, so poor Percy got stuck babysitting the twins from hell. And I know what they're like, they'd have been a nightmare, playing practical jokes and running rings around him and generally making his life as difficult as possible. I suppose I should feel slightly sympathetic, but it's hard when he's such a snotrag.
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I haven't spoken to him in about a year, none of us have. He had this huge row with Dad where he basically accused him of putting us all in danger by supporting Dumbledore when he should be toeing the Ministry line. He said some other things as well, things that are going to take some forgiving, I can tell you. Like Dad's got no ambition and that's why we've never had any money and stuff. And then he packed his trunk and left, and we haven't seen him since. I think Charlie wanted to go round and punch him but Bill talked him out of it. Shame. Anyway, I don't want to talk about Percy. He needs to sort himself out. Mum cries all the time now, and that's mostly because of him. "What if something happened to him and we weren't talking, I'd never forgive myself!" It's his own fault though, he's the one who put his job before his family. Personally, I don't care if I never see him again.
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After Percy you get Fred and George, the "Havoc Twins", as Bill used to call them, and then me and Ginny, the runts of the litter, as Fred and George used to call us. Ah, Ginny, my dear little sister who can do no wrong. Ginny always says that once they had Bill they kept trying for a girl until they got one, so all the rest of us were just disappointments. "Oh no, not another boy!" Mum says that's not true at all. (Ginny: "Well, she would say that, wouldn't she? She probably just didn't want to hurt your feelings!") She says she never expected a girl because the Weasleys don't have girls. Ginny's the first one born on Dad's side of the family for like two hundred years or something. I'm not kidding, it's really been that long. Ginny reckons she's broken our run of bad luck (!!), so we'll all only have daughters from now on. Oh, joy. We made a bet, actually, on what Bill and Fleur's first kid turns out to be. She swears it's going to be a girl and I'm absolutely positive it'll be a boy. I reckon I've got that ten Galleons in the bag. After all, I've got two hundred years of history on my side. Ginny was obviously just a freak accident!
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I'm probably closer to Ginny than to anyone else in my family, but that's because there's only a year between us so we spent nearly all our time together when we were growing up. Jesus, I had to share a room with her 'til I was about eight. We used to fight a lot. Proper fights too, with punching and kicking. It would really piss me off how I always got the blame for everything – "Don't hit your sister!" "She hit me first!" "That's not the point, you're bigger than her, you could do her an injury!"
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Yeah, right. Tell that to my bruised ankle. She's pretty tough, Ginny. I suppose when you've got six brothers you have to be. She's got a temper on her too, we both have. I think Mum got sick of pulling us apart all the time: "Stop arguing, I've got one of my headaches coming on!" Having said that, she can be pretty funny - she could challenge me for the All-England Sarcasm Championships - and she can always cheer me up when I'm in a bad mood. We've got this thing we've been doing for years, when one of us is pissed off the other one will try to make them laugh by pulling stupid faces and generally just being really silly. Always works, too. Well, it's hard to stay annoyed when someone's doing a monkey impression six inches in front of your face.
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I'd never admit it, of course, but I'm actually quite proud of Ginny. She used to be really quiet with anyone outside of the family and I was worried she'd have problems making friends when she started at school. She had a terrible first year, pretty much as bad as it could get, but she's really made up for it since. She seems to have about a million friends - not to mention boyfriends, which I'm not wildly happy about - and she's doing really well in her lessons, and since last year I now have to put up with her outshining me on the Quidditch team as well.
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The boyfriend thing - well, that's a sore subject. She used to have this huge crush on Harry all the way through second and third year, it was hilarious. She wouldn't even speak if he was in the same room. But that was alright, it was funny, that's all. It was the sort of thing you expect from your little sister. Embarrassing crushes on your best mate. But the next thing you know she's actually going out with this kid Michael Corner, who is like the biggest idiot, who thinks he's really clever and funny, and is so not. The most annoying thing about him was that he wasn't even scared of me. Okay, that sounds stupid. But you know what I mean, he should have been scared of me - I'm her older brother, for God's sake! - but he wasn't. He used to give me these irritating little smirks like he thought he was cleverer than me or something. Like he knew he could get away with anything, because Ginny would stick up for him. Smug little creep. She dumped him eventually, of course.
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And now she's going out with Dean, which I don't even wanna talk about, thanks very much. It's not that I don't like him. That's just the problem, I do like him. He's a nice bloke, Dean. But he was my friend, not hers. I don't go around getting off with her friends, do I? Yeah, like any of them would ever fancy me. She seems to have loads of boy friends as well. Friends who are boys, I mean. They're all cocky little sods, too. They're younger than me, but they're all about a million times cooler and more confident and they all do that Michael Corner thing of practically laughing in your face when they're talking to you. Like you just know they're taking the piss out of you, but you can't prove it. Jesus, I sound like my mum. Kids today! Honestly, no respect for their elders and betters. Well, elders, anyway.
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We were talking about this earlier, actually. It's why we ended up fighting in the first place, and why I'm stuck up here with only an owl for company. Ginny wanted to know if I was really alright about her going out with Dean.
Me: "Yeah, I suppose. I mean, at least you've picked someone half-decent this time and not a complete tosser. Anyway, isn't it a bit late asking me my opinion now you're already going out with him?"
Ginny, shaking her head: "God, it's a nightmare having six older brothers. Imagine how scary it must be for any bloke who wants to ask me out. I thought at least you might be different."
Me: "What on earth gave you that idea?"
Ginny, laughing: "You just wait 'til you get a girlfriend, I'm going to give you so much grief. I'm going to be the sister-in-law from hell."
Me: "No, you won't, because I won't pick someone who's a total idiot."
Ginny: "Well, if they weren't a total idiot, why the hell would they want to go out with you?"
Har de har har. Anyway, I got her arm up her back and told her to apologise, and she kicked me in the ankle, and well, that's when Mum came in. I tell you what, if I ever get married, I'm gonna make her wear the worst bridesmaid's dress ever. Something pink. And I'll -
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Sorry about that, Mum just came in with a cup of tea. She says I can go downstairs again as long as I promise not to swear at Ginny anymore. I said I would if she promised not to kick me, and Mum frowned and said, "Yes, well, I've spoken to her about that. It's not very ladylike behaviour." I was on the verge of saying, "That's because she's not a lady", but I thought I'd better keep my big mouth shut or I'd never get out of here. I reckon I've written enough for one night anyway, my hand's practically falling off as it is. So I guess I won't be able to use it for anything else tonight, ha ha!
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Anyway, now you know all about my family and my oh-so-fascinating life, so I suppose at least if I do carry on with this diary lark - and I'm not promising anything, mind, so don't get too excited - you'll know who the hell I'm talking about. Will he? Won't he? You're on a knife edge, aren't you, I can tell. Oh, the tension! I suppose it depends on whether anything happens that's worth writing about. Otherwise this is going in the bin along with all my other crap ideas, like signing up for Quidditch Keeper and that time I built a snowman on the roof.
Next: August, and things are about to hot up... Hope you liked it and please review! PB x