Chapter 1 : What a Wonderful Day
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Hey there. I’m Molly Weasley. Who, you may ask? The daughter of one of the famous Weasleys of the second wizarding war. You know, the ones that saved all of you and your family’s lives. Or the ones that killed them. Either way, my family made a difference. Look how motivational that statement was. Oh yeah. Which Weasley is my dad, you may ask? The one everyone hates. Just my luck to be born into one of the most awesome and famous families ever and I’m stuck with an obnoxious traitor and complete prat of a father. Yes, he came back to fight in the end, but really, that just shows that he was disloyal to the people that made him disloyal to my family. What kind of Gryffindor does that?
(See my logic there? That was quite good logic, if I do say so myself. One point to Molly for awesomeness.)
Anyway, enough about my stupid father, let’s move on to me, shall we? As established previously, I’m Molly Weasley. Hopefully that’s simple enough for you to comprehend. Molly the second. Hopefully that’s also simple enough for you to comprehend. You need more than one brain cell to do that though, so we might be facing a problem. But we’ll deal with that later, when it really gets too much to bear. People often confuse me with my Grandma, which is confusing for everyone, because I’m not my Grandma. That would just be odd.
Actually, odd is a word often used to describe me. I can’t imagine why.
I think that was my younger sister, Lucy. She’s actually relatively normal. And quite selfish. Probably gets that from Dad.
Yep, definitely Lucy.
Why does she keep shouting? Should I say something back? I really don’t want to waste my breath…
“MOLLY I KNOW YOU ARE UPSTAIRS CAN YOU PLEASE JUST SAY SOMETHING?”
I think she might appreciate it if I replied.
“I HAVE COOKIES!”
Ooohh, cookies! Molly likes cookies. Molly likes cookies very much. Molly also likes referring to herself in third person. Such fun!
“COMING!” I shouted.
I planned to do that thing where you gracefully hop onto the banister, slide down it, and land perfectly.
It seems that neither ‘graceful’ nor ‘perfect’ are in my vocabulary.
“Molly, what happened?”
I was born, that’s what happened.
“I just tripped on the stairs, Lucy. I’m fine.”
No answer. What a wonderful sister I have.
“Well hurry up then, Mum and Dad will kill us if we’re late.”
LATE WHERE? I never knew there was an opportunity to be late. What am I being late for? I only came downstairs for some cookies…
“Late for what, exactly?”
“I don’t know, some family thing at the Potters.”
Oh thanks for the detail Lucy, because I thought you were going to be vague about this.
“So, do we have to go now?” I enquired.
“What do you think, Molly? Oh wait, you can’t think, can you?”
“I can bloody well think you idiot, and I think that you’re a complete-“
“Girls?” Dad’s face appeared in the fireplace. Oh joy. Everyone loves a good old chit chat with my father, don’t they?
“What?” We said in unison.
“You do know that you should have been here precisely 47 seconds ago, don’t you? I’m not having my siblings think that I have brought you up with no manners, you should be punctual with things like this, don’t you understand?”
“Yes, Father,” We recited, in a tone we had established in our early childhood.
“Good. Molly, you look like you have worn those clothes all day, so go and change, immediately.”
That’s because I have worn them all day, it’s generally what you do with clothes. As I was going upstairs to get changes into ‘more appropriate attire’ I heard him say something along the lines of: “But Lucy dear, you look lovely.” If lovely is the equivalent of a pug whose face has been mauled so much it resembles a donkey, then, for once, he is correct. Anyway, what even is appropriate attire for this occasion? What even is this occasion? Meh, I’ll just put on the first things I can find. A Weird Sisters hoodie and pyjamas? Maybe not…
So after I found a reasonably clean pair of jeans and a nicer top, I thought it might be a good idea to look at the calendar. And it turns out it’s Albus’ birthday. How could I forget something like that? He was all excited as well, because it’s his 11th, and he’s going to go to Hogwarts this year. Well, I hope Lucy got him a present, or I’m screwed.
“You told me you’d never eat a slug again!” I could hear Aunt Ginny screaming at James as I flooed into their living room. Maybe this was a bad time.
“Lucy, please tell me you got him a present,” I whispered to her once I’d found her looking in the kitchen for some chocolate.
“What? Why would I need a present? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE NOW, MOLLY?”
“Shhhh, I haven’t done anything, and it’s Al’s birthday, remember?”
Please say that she remembers, and doesn’t think I’m a complete idiot. You know something’s wrong with you when your little sister thinks you’re an idiot.
“Err, that’s not until next week.” She said, in a most confused manner.
Damn. Must have looked at the wrong day. To be fair though, it was the only date with any writing on. Wait, does that make me look like a loser with no social life? All my friends are on holiday, okay? It better be okay. Or there may be disastrous consequences. If I can be bothered, that is.
“Why the hell are we here then?”
“Mum is planning his birthday party, and organised a formal meeting to discuss it. Al doesn’t actually want a birthday party, but she seems intent to plan one for him, and we get free food, so I’m not going to argue.”
How does she know all this? She didn’t tell me anything. God, I want to strangle her sometimes. Or make her spontaneously combust using only my mind. Well, I can’t quite do that yet, but I’m working on it, so one day you will all fear me, and bow down to me like I am the most awesome. I already am the most awesome person in the universe, actually, just no one else knows it yet.
“Talking of free food, where are those cookies you promised me earlier?”
“What cookies? I never said anything about cookies,” She said in a sweetly innocent tone.
“The cookies you said you had!”
“But… I don’t have a pensive!”
“Exactly,” She smirked, and ran to the dining room, probably to go talk to Mum. I really, really, hate her sometimes. Being outsmarted by a 12 year old was not in my holiday plans this year.
Oohh, Aunt Ginny has stopped shouting at James. That makes a nice change, I don’t recall them being civil to one another in a long time.
A high pitched bell rings from the living room. Stupid Mother and her formal meetings. She has a bell, for goodness sake. Who has a bell? I knew she must be crazy, what kind of sane person would ever marry into this family?
Knowing that she will absolutely kill me if I don’t come quickly, I go into the dining room, where there are even little name cards to show where everyone should be sitting. Name cards, I tell you. Name cards. She’s taking this whole thing way too seriously.
Halfway through this insanely boring conversation, discussing the variety of envelope we should use for the invitations (Al doesn’t even know that many people), I realise that actually, there is something not quite right here. Because it’s my birthday in 2 days time. And my parents haven’t even asked what I wanted, let alone started planning my party (they haven’t been doing it secretly, either, I happen to be exceptionally good at sneaking around, sometimes a little too good, actually. I have seen things that have scarred me for life). That’s not fair! But as soon as I stand up to address this point, my head seems to collide with something hard, and vaguely owl shaped. Do those bloody school owls have any sight? Surely they would be able to see a large frizzy mess of red hair. It’s rather obvious, you know!
Shit. Now my head really hurts.
Welcome to my life. Yes, it’s insane. And it’s about to get even more insanerer. Is that a word?
A/N 2 – The Doctor Who quote I was given is the ‘Welcome to my life…’ I used at the end, and that doesn’t belong to me, but to the wonderful Doctor. And, you know, the writer who wrote that in the script… =D x
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