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Chapter One
The Black Family Library

Shaking fingers hastily brushed up against the plush navy material, pausing to rub gently at the harsher texture of the sparkly stars. The old ratty blanket draped across her lap had been holding her together for a long time now. Many years of service had been provided by the lux material with an increasing frequency over the last few months. It brought the tantalising feeling of comfort only obtainable as a child who had yet to experience the world. The feeling of being small and protected from the world. Something she was desperately trying to cling onto. Times as of recent had been complex, they had been uncertain and nothing seemed to be the same anymore. It had been the first time, since her childhood, that there didn't seem to be a hole at the end of the tunnel. There didn't seem to be an out. And the longer the family spent stuck together in an unfamiliar location a little more on top of each other than at their own house, the worse everything got. 

Bronwyn Weasley, had been struggling for a while before heading home for the summer holiday. Her fourth year at school, had been a lot on her mentally yet alone academically. Bronwyn had never been exactly academically gifted, school did not come to her easily like it appeared to do so for most of her other siblings. And with the step up in academics of her fourth year she had started to struggle, she had no motivation to complete the work, no desire to even attend class most day. And felt as though she was only watching herself in an out of body experience as she failed to learn anything. Yet her academic issues seemed to be the least of her issues during that year. Her friendship group was crumbling, officially up against their first real challenge of whether they were actually true friends or not. It would seem that they had made it through the year, were somehow making it partially through the summer but things wouldn't be the same again. Even she knew it, as someone who really could not read emotions. 

Her brain remained in a heightened state of unease as she remained rooted to the bed she had been assigned. The blanket was no longer efficient in keeping her calm. And as it felt as though she was drowning in her own thoughts, the whirlpool dragging her under Bronwyn could not reach the life jacket to pull her back up. The bed she sat on was not her own, it could never be hers in this rickety house they were staying in, and the lack of familiarity was not helping her already fragile state of being. Her family around her seemed to be of no real use, nobody seemed to be able to provide any support in the way of which she needed. Whatever that was she didn't really know.  

Molly Weasley in all her stout brash proudness had been little to no help to Bronwyn. She had no understanding of the emotions her daughter was feeling, she had no sense as to what possible could be causing them either. She had only told Bronwyn to move on, to look at things as a new chance upon returning to school, nothing of which was helping in the current headspace Bronwyn was in. Arthur Weasley had tried, like he tried hard with all of his children, but Bronwyn found herself struggling to really connect with her father she didn't find them having much in common anymore these days. She was no longer interested in any hobbies like she had been and without the hobbies the things she had shared with her father there was this lull in their relationship. A lull that both were struggling to overcome. 

Bronwyn felt as though she had been drifting from her siblings for a long time now, she barely spoke to Bill or Charlie and had not really done so after they had left the family home at 18. Percy was a touchy subject, Bronwyn wished to speak to her brother who might have been the only one to understand what she was going through, but the older boy had fallen out with their mother. That was the end of their relationship, well for now at least she supposed. Fred and George were an enigma, Bronwyn felt as though they still tried to have a relationship with her. They were probably the only ones who weren't acting like something drastic had changed within the tall girl. But they still confused her, Bronwyn was unsure whether she would ever be  able to truly read her brothers. She appreciated the effort, them in general regardless of any of this. 

Ginny and Bronwyn was were the relationship was the most strained. It had been that way for many years now probably since they were only a couple of years old. But it had been getting worse for a while now and the centre of the sisters feud was none other than Harry Potter. The boy Bronwyn had spoken to and befriended on the train back when she was 11, the boy who lived. And the boy her younger sister was head over heels for. The sisters had been fighting over it more and more as the weeks passed, and now barely halfway through the holidays it had nearly come to much more than just hair pulling and nasty words. Ginny wanted to be able to move past the crush phase, seeing nothing wrong with it. Bronwyn didn't want her younger sister to steal her best friend away. She couldn't have Ginny taking something else from her. Ginny was everything that Bronwyn wasn't, smart, athletic, feminine and proper. Bronwyn she was loud, clumsy, nasty and anything but put together. Finding that being stuck inside of a room with her younger sister was too much to handle, Bronwyn went on a venture of the house they were staying in. Much of Grimmual Place was off limits to the children considering there was an unknown amount of magic sealing it away. Yet the longer they were there, the more they unlocked and it felt strange to admit but there was a library on the second floor that Bronwyn was desperate to explore. It was a small family library from what she could make out, and the last place anyone in the family would want to be and therefore the perfect place for her to hang out. 

The second floor library was dusty and dark upon entrance. A few rows of bookshelves littered the floor decorating the walls and drawing the room into a point. A point extenuated by the fireplace and set of furniture in the middle. The place which in that moment, in her whirlpool, seemed so serene. She would place herself in a curled up position on the plush leather couch in front of the flames. And there she would remain for the next few days to come. Only venturing from her haven to eat, spending her evenings and sleeping in the room. Bronwyn knew this was not healthy but she could not help herself in this room she felt as though she was coming back to herself. Like she was able to reconnect with herself, or the new version of herself she was becoming. Outside, out there she was expected to be their Bronwyn, their Ron. In here she was just Bronwyn, she was Winnie. She was starting to turn into the person she wanted to be.

In the few days she had spent inside of the library Bronwyn had found herself starting to complete her school work, the summer work she had been avoiding for a few weeks now. She had started to try to do something to better herself. Even if the words moved across the page like a dancer upon the stage. Even if it hurt her eyes, her head her whole being she wanted to do it, she wanted to try. She supposed it also helped having access to a collection as old and as once loved as this one was, finding material to help was easy and she supposed she could see where Hermione found joy in spending time in the library. She ponded whether the one at Hogwarts felt as nice as this one did, if it would bring her as much peace as this one would. Though she supposed she would have to wait a few more weeks to know if that was the case. 

It would be leaving for dinner on the eighth evening she spent in the library when Bronwyn bumped into one of the bookcases. She supposed it would have to happen eventually considering the layout of the room. And though she tried to be quick to support any books from toppling over the side and down onto the harsh wooden floors below, she was not fast enough. A singular book tumbled from a spot on the top shelf down to the ground a resounding thud echoed the silent room upon its landing. Bronwyn went to collect the book knowing that she would have to work out how to return it to the top shelf at a later date before the title caught her eye. 

'Honouring Lady Majik and harnessing your inner worth.'

Bronwyn's eyes were trapped stuck upon the final words of the title. That was the thing she needed to learn how to do, how to honour herself find her inner worth and work with it. The thought of returning the book to its place upon the highest shelf no longer crossed her mind, rather the thought of reading the book from cover to cover no matter how long it took. That was the only desire she had now. 

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