Everybody calls me Charlie-Girl. Makes sense, in a way. Whenever I went over to the Weasley’s for holidays or visiting, I always got confused with the second eldest son, also named Charlie. So, for telling us apart, I was called Charlie-Girl. I tried to get them to call Charlie by Charlie-Boy but I always got told that Charlie was older so he was able to keep the name. And as I was growing up and going through Hogwarts, the name Charlie-Girl just seemed to stick. It probably didn’t help that I had Fred, George, Oliver, Cedric, and Roger all calling me that. So, once someone in class heard Oliver call me Charlie-Girl, it seemed to make it appropriate for everyone to call me it. I mean, if the great *snort* Oliver Wood can call me it, everyone can. What’s even worse is that the name even followed me on to the Quidditch pitch. Imagine concentrating on the game at hand and then hearing Lee Jordon shout “and here comes Charlie-Girl with the quaffle”. It always got me distracted and I think that he did it as a conspiracy to make sure Slytherin didn’t win the match.
Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that bit; I belonged to Slytherin. Which, in itself isn’t all that bad but my best friends were all in different houses. Here’s the run down: Oliver Wood - Gryffindor, Cedric Diggory - Hufflepuff, and Roger Davies - Ravenclaw. To make matters even better, we were all Quidditch captains. We never let the whole house rivalry penetrate our friendship, which is good considering the rivalry that Gryffindor and Slytherin had.
Actually, when I was named captain over the other boys on the team (yes, I was the only girl) they all quit. So, the team was just the Seeker, me. When word of the quitting got to Snape though, he dragged the gents by the ears (literally too. Dumbledore never got word of it…and we still don’t mention to this day) and informed them ever so nicely (yeah, Snape being nice. I believe that’s an oxymoron: nice Snape. He more likely slapped the sense into them) that he was responsible for naming captain and I was damn well better at the job then those idiots (his words, not mine). So, the next day I had six Slytherins crawling on their hands and knees in the Great Hall during breakfast begging to be back on the team. I took pity on them and allowed them all back on, but they had to run, that’s right, run, twenty laps each around the pitch. Yes, growing up with three guys all obsessed with Quidditch rubbed off on me and I took some of their captain-ing habits.
My childhood was, in my professional opinion, a tad crazy. I was born in Ireland and when I was six dear old Dad decided it was in my best interests that we go live in jolly ol’ England. Let’s just say I didn’t find it very jolly, just old. The house was okay though. Quite big, considering it was just the two of us. On the first night in the new house, Dad decided it would be just awesome if we had a neighborhood gathering for dinner. So he made me, his only daughter, gem of his life, go door to door (okay, there were only three doors but I’m telling the story. I have artistic license to make it seem more dramatic) and ask these random adults I’ve never seen if they would like to come over to the house for dinner and it was ‘great’ if they could bring the whole family. Turns out that the whole family was just three kids with their fathers. And so our fathers met and started a Bachelor Club since they were all “without misses”.
Us kids were forgotten once the dads took to the Firewhisky so I was dragged by the arm outside and the boys (yes, the boys) began interrogating me. It was very scary, especially since there were three of them and just one of me. Not to mention that they could easily out power me since they were quite a lot bigger than I was. They told me some interesting stories. Well, actually they were crap stories but when you’re six all stories are interesting. For instance, they told me a story about how they were able to get bookworm Roger to eat dirt after they told him that it had magically properties to make him smarter. Needless to say, Roger didn’t enjoy the story all to well. After we were outside for several hours, we got cold and went back to my house and found our dads passed out on the kitchen table, so we went upstairs to my room and there was the birth of sleepovers and friendship.
Yes, I did say sleepovers. We would house jump, or room jump is more accurate, to the other’s house at least once a week. Sometimes there would be one or two of us in the other’s room, but usually it was all four of us. My house always seemed to be the most popular. One time I came into my room late and found Oliver and Cedric passed out on my bed and Roger asleep over my desk. That’s how it usually worked; we never got told when the others would be in our rooms for a sleepover, we would just open the door and find someone either standing there grinning our passed out on the bed, floor, desk, bathroom, wherever. Like I said earlier, we never coordinated these sleepovers, we just sort of knew who’s house was the house for the night.
We also liked some houses better than others. For example, if Oliver and I ever got into a fight (which we did a lot latter on in life) I would go to Cedric’s house and he went to Roger’s. I’m not sure how this happened the way it did; I figured Oliver would want to be alone if he was upset but Roger told me that he would rant about everything he hated about me at that particular moment and then find me to apologize for being such a git. It’s funny to think about how much we fight though, out of everyone Oliver is by far my best friend, and Cedric and Roger know this. They tried for the longest time to get us “together” or get us to “hook-up” but it never worked out in their favor. Most of our time at Hogwarts was spent trying to get us together. Even when Cedric and I dated, his underlying reasoning was to make Oliver jealous so he would profess his undying love for me. Oliver and I caught on fast enough; we would always jokingly profess our love for each other or flirt openly in public to get Roger and Cedric excited and happy, then we’d crush their dreams. Oliver and I, again in my opinion, were never meant to be. He’s Scottish and I’m Irish, there’s just too many accents going on there to make anything happen. Not to mention the whole “he’s my best friend” thing.
Of course, this is our last and final year at Hogwarts. The Captains Circle is about to end. And between matches, N.E.W.T.S. and scouts, I have a feeling that Cedric and Roger will still try to find a way to get Wood and I together...
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