I wish I was brave like Bill." Seven-year-old Ron Weasley swiped at his uneven orange locks, trying in vain to brush away spider silk that was long since gone. His whole body felt like it was shaking as he ran his hands over his head and shoulders again and again before holding them at arm's length and rubbing them vigorously together.
Sitting cross-legged on the ground front of him, his six-year-old sister Ginny furrowed her brow in disbelief. "Nobody's brave like Bill. That's why he's gonna be Head Boy at Hogwarts."
Ron gave his hair another vicious ruffling and continued as though she hadn't spoken. "If I was brave like Bill, the twins would leave me alone.
"It was just a spider web, Ron," Ginny shot back, annoyed that he hadn't acknowledged her point. "There wasn't an actual spider on it."
"Probably because they couldn't find one," Ron muttered bitterly. "And I can be brave like Bill." He puffed himself up a bit, throwing back his shoulders. But a stray lock of hair brushed his ear and sent him into another fit of clawing at the side of his head. When he looked up, he could see the amusement in his sister's eyes as she took in his wildly disheveled appearance. "I can," he insisted, trying to smooth down his hair. "When I'm bigger."
"You'll never be as big as Bill," Ginny replied, flopping back onto the dry summer grass. "Mum says Bill and the Percy get their height from Dad. You, Charlie and twins got yours from her. She said I'm not old enough to know yet."
Ron had stopped listening again. He was carefully inspecting his shirt, picking at anything that might have been a bit of spider silk. The sleeves were getting a little short for him, but that was always temporary. Their mother had already earmarked some of the twins' smaller clothes for him. The passing down would commence as soon as she took Percy shopping for his school clothes.
"You could be brave like Charlie," Ginny suggested.
Ron snorted in spite of himself. "Nobody's brave like Charlie," he answered dismissively. "Charlie's not scared of anything. He's not scared of hippogriffs or trolls or red caps or crashing his broom into the ground at top speed."
Ginny considered his point for a moment. "He told me he used to be scared of the ghoul in the attic." Ron shot her a disbelieving look, and she quickly added, "When he was little, like when I used to be scared of it."
"That was ages ago." Ron shook his head, feeling nothing but discouraged. "I can't be brave like Charlie. He probably likes spiders. And what would I do if I came across something really scary, like a werewolf or a vampire?"
"Maybe you talk to it," she replied, shrugging her shoulders. "That's what Charlie would do."
Ron gave her a dismissive snort. "Werewolves don't talk. Not on the full moon. A werewolf would tear you limb from limb. Not even Charlie's that brave."
"Bet he is," Ginny shot back.
"No way."
"Bet he is."
"You're mad."
"Bet he is."
"Stop it. You're being annoying."
"Still bet he would," Ginny replied, refusing to cede the last word.
Ron weighed the merits of continuing to argue, but his heart wasn't really in it. "Doesn't matter," he mumbled, pulling his knees to his chest. "I'm still never gonna be as brave as Charlie."
"You can be braver than Percy," Ginny supplied, trying to be helpful.
"That doesn't mean anything," Ron grumbled. "That fat rat he carries around is braver than he is."
Ginny sniggered in response. "Scabbers isn't very brave."
"If Errol wasn't so old and blind, Scabbers would've been eaten a long time ago." Ron sighed and laid back on the grass. Then it occurred to him that there might be spiders crawling around, so he popped back up and ran his fingers through his hair and over his clothes again.
