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A Wishing Star

By Olivia Frost

Chapter 1: A Dream Left Behind

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The front door slams behind me. I stalk out of the house, past the pigpen and a few chickens heading to bed, and run toward the cluster of trees across the road. I come close to stepping on one of the chickens, but I don’t care. I hate life. I hate me. I hate being a Weasley. I stand in the middle of the road, kicking at the dirt and plants growing from the ground. The road isn’t used often. Mostly by passing Muggles, but they never see my house; it is invisible to their eyes.

That’s like a lot of things in my life, really.

I sit down next to my tree – the tree I carved my name in a few years before. My fingers traced the shoddy carving of "Ron" in the bark. We each have a tree out here. Mum and Dad did theirs with magic, but I was only a little kid then, so I really don’t remember. The carving – the tree – is like a lot of things in my life.

It’s rubbish, but at least it's my own.

The tree is mine and only mine.

But it is just a stupid tree. I let out a sigh, kicking at the dirt below my feet. I hear Mum calling for me to "Come back this instant!" She sounds quite angry with me. Why shouldn’t she be? I did kick Ginny and throw a fit. That happens a lot lately. I’m always angry with my family. It isn’t fair! Bill is training with Gringotts, and he bought a new wand! Charlie is Prefect and Quidditch Captain for Gryffindor and Mum and Dad bought him new broom! Percy is, as usual, being annoying and stuffy – the apple of Mum’s eye. Fred and George are at Hogwarts – second years.

Ever since they left for Hogwarts, I’ve been stuck here with only Ginny and Bill for company. But Bill is ten years older than me, and he is always working. Ginny is the only company I have and, frankly, I am tired of her. I have her all to myself for a whole year! Day in and day out, all I hear is "Ron! Come play with me!" or "Do you want to swim in the pond? I’m hot!" or "Ron? Can I play with your broom? I can be Chaser, you can be Keeper!" "RON, PLAY WITH ME! I’M BORED!" I used to always go to Mum when I want to get away from Ginny, but I don’t do that any more: she makes me do chores.

I hate chores – especially de-gnoming the garden.

"RONALD WEASLEY! COME BACK HERE THIS INSTANT! I KNOW YOU’RE IN THE TREES! DON’T MAKE COME GET YOU!" I heard Mum scream from the front door.

I’m not ready to go back. I don’t want to apologize to Ginny. I don’t want to go back there ever again!

I run through the small forest as fast as I can, to get away from Mum. I just run and run and don’t stop for a while. I don’t know where I am, but this little patch of trees isn’t very big, so I’m not going to get lost. I finally stop when I come to a clearing at the top of a hill and sit down to catch my breath. The stars are bright in the country, and soon they'll dot the sky by the thousands. The view below me is almost better. In the distance is the town of Ottery St. Catchpole and the Otter River. The town lights spread along the English countryside, and I see the sun setting. A few fire pixies fly out into the clearing to see me, a giant intruder onto their dancing grounds. I don’t pay the little flying people any mind. Dad tells me they’re our ancestors. With fiery red hair and tempers to boot, yet a compassion for all living things. I learned a long time ago that the Weasleys’ relation to the fire pixies was all a tale. How can I be related to something so small? I believed it for so long....

Fred and George thought I was daft and laughed at me.

I look out at the town again, which resembles the stars above me. The town so far I’m not sure where the lights end and the sky begins. I see smoke rising from some of the chimneys. I smile and wonder: I’m living in that house with a younger brother; Mum, Dad, and me are all sitting around the fire playing chess.

Just like the Gryffindor Common Room.

Or so I've heard….

Sometimes, Mum gets so angry with me because I don’t have any patience for Ginny anymore. I haven’t just spent a few months with her; I spent almost my entire life with her! That’s what happens when you have two brothers who are too old to play with you, one who’s too bossy, and twins. I’ve always been put out from my brothers, even when I was younger. So I played with the only person I could.

Ginny.

But now that I'm ten, I’m tired of her. I want friends of my own - not just older brothers and a tagalong sister. I want good things and not rubbish. I want attention. I want money. I want to get away from the Burrow. I want to go to Hogwarts.

I also want to be different.

Separate, you know?

I shake away my thoughts and look at some of the cars - yes, cars - driving through the streets. I can’t make out much but I do see some things. I see some people, who are no bigger than the stars above me. I went into the town once  to get new clothes – Muggle clothes. I did get clothes, just very worn, used ones. They were ugly, and so was I.

I’m ugly and always have been. Any boy my age with red hair, freckles, long nose, clown feet, large hands, and taller than normal is. I hate it. I will always hate it. I will die ugly with red hair, freckles, and an out-of-proportion body.

I want to live like the townspeople. I want to be able to afford a proper house in town and not live in a former pigsty. I want to be famous! I want people all over the world to know me! Ron Weasley! I want that so much and for so long it hurts. I want a place to call my own, a bed of my own, a broom of my own, a life of my own.

Is that too much to ask?

My blood is boiling again. I want to run. Run anywhere! Run to that town! Run to London! Run to Hogwarts! I want to run and never come back. I want to run to a different life.

I want to be smart, I want to afford things, I want that real house on a street in a town, I don’t want a legacy to live up to, and I want to be handsome. Bill is handsome but I can never look as good as him.

I see a star shoot across the sky like in old stories Mum, Grandmum and Great-Grandmum told me when I was really young. They told me of wishing stars, that they appear when the wisher is in peril or in need of hope. I believed their stories because I was small and gullible. I look up at a bright, twinkling star and for a brief moment it gives me something I never thought a small star would.

It gives me hope, and I wish for something right then and there.

I wish for the one thing nobody can give me: to be my own person and not just the sixth Weasley.

The night suddenly is colder and I’m sure Mum is worried so I head back.

The one thing I always wanted, and always will want, is far behind me in a memory of what can only be a spectacular dream or a tiny star in a sky of thousands.

The star is a bunch of bollocks, just like the pixies. Stars can’t grant my wishes. They are only balls of gas far, far away. They aren’t magical! They don’t have a guarantee! They give the bloody wisher a hope all right. A false hope. I can’t understand why anyone ever trusts something so foolish. They are gullible and daft, just like me. Stars are only objects in fairy tales for little children. They are nothing to me. Nothing at all.

My dreams will never come true.

I left them behind me, at the top of that hill.

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Thanks to my three wonderful betas: Liberty at checkmated, Eleena Thea, a good friend of mine, and mostly Gwynne, who really helped me with the tense in this story. You are amazing, thank you so much!

This is a two-part story. One from Ron's POV and a second from another character's POV. I’ve written the second, now I just have to give it to my beta. It is only two, though. Sorry.

Oh, for all those newbie writers out there, don't attempt first person. It gave me the hardest time. But that's what betas are for. ;-D

Olivia Frost 0:-D