The Sugar Quill
Author: Other Girl  Story: First Flight  Chapter: Default
The distribution of this story is for personal use only. Any other form of distribution is prohibited without the consent of the author.

First Flight

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own the Weasleys.JK Rowling does.

A/N: Yay!My first story at the ĎQuill!I am indebted to my beta reader, Felina Black-sorry for taking so long to get this posted.Thanx also goes to my sister, for her support, and to my dad, for putting up with my feverish writing on Thanksgiving so I could get this submitted.Please review!


First Flight

By Other Girl

Oh, that Quidditch game with Hufflepuff is going to be a disaster, Ginny thought wearily as she came down from the Girlsí Dormitory. She stopped at the bottom of the stairs and performed a quick drying spell on her hair. Although the noise level was muted, she could clearly hear the conversations that were nearby.

"Önot here?Good. We were watching their practice." That was definitely Fred. "Theyíre going to be slaughtered." And he was talking about her. Again. "Theyíre complete rubbish without us." The worst part was that he was right.

Ginny slipped out very quietly so she could hide in her favorite nook under the stairway.

"Come on, Ginnyís not bad," said George. "Actually, I dunno how she got so good, seeing how we never let her play with usÖ"

"Sheís been breaking into your broom shed in the garden since the age of six and taking each of your brooms out in turn when you werenít looking." Ginny would love to see the look on Fred and Georgeís faces when Hermione said that. Especially when Georgeís reply came as a faint, "Oh. Well-thatíd explain it." Even Fred and George would be impressed with that one.

Although she wouldíve preferred it if they had just let her play in the first placeÖ


"Bill, canít I play?I want a turn riding, and you never let me play!"

"How many times do I have to tell you, Gin, youíre too young to ride a broom."

"But Ronnieís been riding since he was five and Iím six so Iím old enough."

"This is different. Youíre not old enough and thatís final." This time Charlie came to Billís aid. As she looked to the rest of her brothers for support, she knew she wouldnít be riding with them that day.

"Fine!" she yelled, and stomped off to ask her Mum or Dad for help.

When she was halfway down the hill, she heard Fred and George yell at her to wait up. She sped up, ignoring them, but they were bigger and caught up pretty quickly.

"Quafflemuffins, you guys, if youíre not going to let me ride you could at least leave me alone," she yelled.

"Yeesh, someoneís in a bad mood," commented George, while Fred simply said, "Quafflemuffins?"

Ginny kept walking, determined not to cry. All she ever wanted was to play with them and they never let her. It wasnít her fault she was the youngest.

"Listen, Gin. We have a deal for you. If youíll help us with a, erm, joke, weíll talk to Bill and Charlie about letting you ride.Okay?"

"But you have to promise not to tell anybody," added George.

"What would I have to do?" she asked cautiously. It was better not to plunge into things headfirst where Fred and George were concerned.

"First you have to promise not to tell anyone. You donít have to do it, but you have to promise not to tell."

"WellÖokay, I promise not to tell."

"I donít know, George. Should we trust her?"

"Iím not sure Fred, should we?"

"Well, Iím-"

"I pinky-swear! Will you just tell me already?"

"Fine. No need to be such a grouch."

"And donít yell so loudly. They might hear you." Ginny sighed impatiently. It was getting old.

"Alright, alright. Weíve decided that Ronís being really annoying about the Cannons lately."

"Who hasnít decided that?" she retorted.

"So we thought weíd bring him down a notch," said George, ignoring Ginnyís comment.

"Exactly. So youíre job is to write stuff about the Cannons on his walls. Weíll take care of the diversion."

"Whatís the point of a diversion if weíre going to get caught anyways? I mean, writing on the walls is pretty obvious, and its not like Percy would do it."

"Yes, but if no one but Ron can see itÖ"

"Then they canít punish us for it, can they?" finished Fred. They were doing that a lot lately.

"Sure, but how are you going to pull that one off? Itís got to be pretty advanced mag-oh." On their last trip to Diagon Alley, Fred and George had put their money together to buy some very expensive ink that could only be seen by the person who wrote the message and the person it was addressed to. "But-never mind." Mum had bought an eraser that would reveal the ink after Fred and George had left the store. But they wouldnít listen to her if she told them, and Mum probably wouldnít think to use it anyway-she would just think Ron was making up stories again. It was perfect. "All right. Iíll do it."

Here was her chance to prove herself to Fred and George. Nothing was going to go wrong this time. "So, what are you going to do for a distraction?"

"Oh, nothing much. Certainly not anything we could get in trouble for," quipped George.

Oh so thatís what this is about, Ginny thought.Get themselves out of the line of fire so theyíll still go to Diagon Alley today if something goes wrong.She could still back out of itÖbut did she really want to? She realized Fred was talking to her.

"Öso Mumíll fuss over us for at least fifteen minutes. We can guarantee twenty minutes. That includes your time to sneak in and back out. If all goes well, they wonít even know youíve been in the house."

"Any questions? Twenty minutes to get in, write the messages, and get out. Remember to write ĎRoní before you write anything else, not even a spot of ink, else Mumíll be able to see.Not a spot, understand?"

"All right, I get it. Keep your voice down, weíre almost home." What was the diversion again? Oh yeah, get scratched up and then go crying to Mum. ButÖ"You two do realize she wonít believe you if you go crying to her? You never do that."

"Of course weíre not, Gin," scoffed Fred. "Werenít you listening?" George was scowling at her. "Weíre going to get hurt in front of Mum. Of course sheíll believe us then."


Ginny blushed deeply. Already things were going wrong. Did they think she was stupid? Just because she was younger, didnít mean she couldnít do anything they could do. She would just have to prove it to them. "Yes, of course I was listening," she mumbled.

"No you werenít," George replied cheerfully. "Right, so, go around to the side door-"

"Stay out of sight-"

"And whistle when youíre ready."

"Right, but whereís the ink?" Ginny smirked as Fred and George looked at each other, mortified, and George brought out a small bottle of ink from his pocket and handed it to her. So they hadnít thought of everything, after all. "And can I borrow a quill? I donít have one with me." She smiled innocently. Fred mutely handed one to her. Both of them had turned as red as their hair.

"Erm, right, off you go then Gin," George said weakly. "Donít forget-"

"Yeah, whatever, I know," she replied. Ginny made her way to the side of the house, intent on her plan. She took a deep breath, the whistled loudly. She waited a minute for Fred and George to get Mum out of the house, then slipped inside quickly and quietly.

Running upstairs as quickly as she could, Ginny got to Ronís room without incident.And now for the fun part.

"Ron, The Cannons are reelly stupid. They stink and you know it."

"Ron, The Cannons are a bunch of louse Quafle-hogs with big arses."

"Ron, Know how the Chudley Cannons got their name? Itís becuse they need Cannons to hit a Bludger the rite way. And even then theyre so slow they always miss."

"Ron, Everybody hates how you talk about the Cannons all the time. If you want to go nuts over a looser team, then poo for you, but we donít want to here about it. You woodent want everybady to be mad at you, wood you.. From your family."

She stepped back to look at her work. Perfect. The messages were clever, but didnít sound like things she would say, and the handwriting didnít look like hers at all (though that was mostly due to the fact that it was hard to write on walls). This work was definitely worthy of Fred and George.

As Ginny turned to leave, she tripped over some of Ronís dirty socks, almost dropping her quill and ink. She frantically righted herself, then corked the ink.She didnít notice a drop of ink fall on the ground.

She checked her watch. Three minutes to get out of the house. Okay. She could do this. Ginny braced herself, then started running down the stairs as quickly as she could without making too much noise.She paused and walked very slowly by Percyís room, then ran the rest of the way downstairs, out the door, and into the cover of the trees just in time to hear Mum say, "Are you sure youíre all right George? That was a pretty nasty fall."

"Yes, Mum, Iím fine. I was only a few feet up when I fell."

"And you really didnít need to call Dad out here, either," added Fred.

"You just let me be the judge of that," she snapped. "George could have been seriously injured, and I hope youíve learned a good lesson from this."

Seeing her chance to enter, Ginny emerged from the trees before her mother got started. "There you are Mum. Iíve been looking all over for you." As Molly turned around, Ginny winked at her very relieved looking twin brothers. That was sure to win points with them.

"Oh, hello dear. Did you need something?"

"I was wondering when weíre leaving for Diagon Alley."

"Oh, I thought weíd leave around noon-thatís in about an hour. I thought we could have a nice lunch, go shopping for a while, then get some ice cream at Florean Fortescueís before we leave to celebrate your Daddyís promotion. How does that sound to you?"

"Um, that sounds fine-but I donít know what I should wear. Can you help me find some nice robes?"

Fred snorted. Ginny glared at him. She was doing this to help him, after all. It wasnít as if she actually liked Mum fussing over her.

"Of course, dear. Come with me and weíll pick out a lovely outfit for you to wear."


Ten minutes later, Ginny had tried on several different colours of robes, none of which she actually liked.

Thankfully, Ron chose a moment when she had normal robes on to come in her room without bothering to knock.

"Mummy, mummy, come see. Someoneís wrote mean things on my walls." Finally. This would certainly be interesting, at the very least.

"Written, Ron. And donít be ridiculous. Who would want to write on you walls?"

"I d-dunno. But th-they wrote really m-mean things about the C-Cannons, a-and said I sh-should stop liking them. And, oh Mummy," he said, finally starting to cry, "they ruined my Cannons poster."

"All right, dear, calm down. Letís go and have a look. But this better not be one of your tales."

Ginny was starting to feel a little guilty. She hadnít meant to actually make him cry-just to deflate him a little. And if she thought about it, it really wasnít very nice to get him in trouble like this just before they went to Diagon Alley-it meant Ron would almost certainly not be going this time-in fact, it was downright mean.

It was exactly what Fred and George had planned for.

She was not surprised that despite Ronís assurances of "Of course itís not a tale, Mummy," her mother became deadly quiet upon entering the room.

"I donít see any writing, Ronald," Molly whispered. "Are you quite sure this isnít one of your tales?"

"But-but I can see the writing right here. And here, and here, and over there. You mean you canít see it?

Molly shook her head tightly; Ron looked to Ginny, who, after a short pause, also shook her head. Poor Ronnie. He really didnít deserve this, but Ginny had promised.

"But if you canít see it, how come I can?" he asked

Ginny desperately wanted to scream at him, "Shut up! Canít you see youíre making it worse for yourself?"

"Canít you even see that spot on the ground there? I didnít spill that. Really I didnítÖ"

Ginny looked down at the floor, alarmed. Had she spilled ink when she slipped? If she had-drat, she could see it, and it wasnít addressed to Ron, which meant Mum could see it too.

"Ronnie, do those notes have your name at the top, by any chance?"

"Yes, yes they all do, that one says-"

"Ginny-in my room by my bed youíll see a small bag with a blue eraser in it. Could you bring me the eraser please?"

"Y-yes Mum." Ginny gulped and fled.

"Fred?George? Get up here this instant." Oh no, even the neighbors could hear that.

On her way downstairs, Ginny passed Fred and George. They glowered at her.

"You told, didnít you?"

"No, I didnít! I wouldnít! She figured it all out by herself, I swear!"

By the time Ginny came back with the eraser, Molly was yelling at the twins, who were making feeble protests. Molly had Ron show her where the writing was, erased it, then continued to berate the twins.

They were both glaring at Ginny. She would have to confess. She did technically do it, after all.


"Ginny, stay out of this."

"But Mum-I did it." The only sound was of Mollyís heavy breathing.

"YouÖdidÖbut how could you?"

Ginny hung her head. "I-I snuck into Fred and Georgeís room and stole their ink.Then I came up here and wrote on the walls. Iím sorry." Ginny refused to look at anyone, but instead stared at the spot she had spilled on the floor. "I-I guess I wonít be going to Diagon Alley.ĒAnd she handed the quill and ink to her mother as proof.

"I should think not! I am very disappointed in you, Ginny. You will go to your room and write a full apology to Ron for writing on his walls and to Fred and George for stealing their ink, explaining why you made such bad decisions.And you can be sure I'll read them. And the rest of you-get ready to leave."

Ginny slumped back to her room, dejected. She supposed she deserved it, but it was all the twinsí fault. She had been really looking forward to that ice cream, too. Oh, well.

And she was so mad at them for convincing her to do this. She was sure they wouldnít talk to Bill and Charlie for her.

By the time everyone was ready to leave, Ginny had finished her letter to Ron and was well into the twinsí. Arthur came in to say goodbye, and she looked down. He was going to be so disappointed in her.

He sat down next to her and said, "You didnít do it, did you." It wasnít a question. But she would give the expected response, even though the twins werenít going to even thank her for getting them out of trouble. How had it gone so wrong?

"Of course I did," she mumbled.

"But it wasnít your idea. Itís not like you to do something malicious. So whose idea was it?" Ginny stared at the desk, hands clenched.

"You donít have to tell me. Although Iím sure it would be a lot easier to keep a secret if you were thanked for it by some certain nine-year olds." Ginny looked up at him sharply. He was smiling.

"I think youíve learned youíre lesson from this, so Iím sure I donít need to ask you if something like this is ever going to happen again, do I?" She stared at him as he dropped his voice to a whisper. "I think what you did today was very honourable-in fact, I believe it deserves some ice cream." She grinned. He tickled her. "You like chocolate, right?"

She nodded. At least she would still get ice cream.

"Good. Percy will watch you while weíre gone-he didnít want to go. Will you be all right?"

"Yes, Daddy. Have a nice time and-Iím sorry. I didnít mean to make Ronnie cry."

"Donít worry, honey, itís nothing that canít be fixed." He gave her a hug, then left, shutting the door behind him.

It wasnít fair! All she wanted to do was ride a broomstick, and they never let her.

She finished her letter, then decided that if her brothers wouldnít let her ride a broomstick then she would do it herself.Percy was probably reading in his room-to check this she poked her head in to ask about food and was told to leave him alone, find lunch in the kitchen, and "not get any ideas about my walls."

Good. That got him out of the way, which gave her at least a few hours before the rest of the family came home. Ginny grabbed some bread in the kitchen and snuck out to the garden broom shed, taking care to stay out of sight of Percyís window. She took out her hairpins and used them to juggle the lock on the door until it opened (this was a trick she had learned from her Muggle friend Amy down the street-it wouldnít work if someone had made any effort to magically seal the door, but it was just a broom shed so there was no worry about that. Maybe she would show Fred and George sometime if they were nice to her).

She took Charlieís broom-his was the best since he was Quidditch captain-and walked up the hill, where she then proceeded to mount the broom without any difficulty whatsoever.

Taking off was harder, as she wasnít exactly sure what to do. She finally gave the ground a good kickÖand lifted off the ground.

She experimented a little with movement, and after a few minutes she could turn up, down, left, or right, and easily land and kick off.

Ginny tried going a little higher. This was amazing-she could stay up here for hours.

After half an hour of experimenting with tricks she had seen her brothers do, including a vertical loop-the-loop, Ginny wondered if she could do a dive.

She went up just past the tree line, then pointed her broom downward and pushed forward-she was hurtling toward the ground at top speed.Just before she wouldíve crashed, she pulled up out of the dive, grinning.

Ginny flew back up towards the top of the tree, hair streaming behind her, to dive again.Her ponytail holder must have fallen out somewhere.She yawned, letting go of the broom. She tipped backwards, falling off the broom and into the tree.She reached up and caught it just before it flew out of her reach, then promptly dropped it.

Flobberworms. Good thing nobody else was there to see. She was going to have to climb down the tree. How embarrassing. She just hoped the broom wasnít broken. Then she would really be in trouble.

Five minutes and several scratches later, Ginny remounted her broom.She was very lucky it wasnít broken. She pushed off with difficulty, then fell flat on her arse.She got up and tried again, but could barely push off. She was exhausted.

"Lovely," she muttered. "Guess itís time to call it quits." She trudged down the hill to the broom shed, promising herself she would do this again.

When Molly came in an hour later to check on Ginny and deliver her ice cream, Ginny was sound asleep on her bed with a book in hand.

"Ginny, dear, wake up. Would you like your ice cream now or after dinner?"

"UmÖafter dinner please."

"Iíll put a Freezing Charm on it then. How was your afternoon?"

"Fine." Which was a huge understatement, but whatever. "I finished the letters, had some lunch, and read a book about this Muggle criminal who stole money from people and then gave it back. Or something like that." And rode a broomstick. No wonder she hadnít really been paying much attention to the book.

"Thatís good dear. Dinner will be in half an hour."

"Okay. Mum?"

"Yes, dear?"

"Díyou think I could ride a broomstick soon? Ron got to when he was five."

"Well, all right dear, but not today."

"No, I mean some other day."

"Thatís fine dear. Now why donít you wash up and come help me with dinner? And how on earth did you get so scratched up?"

Ginny just smiled and followed her mom downstairs.


Ginny smiled to herself-that had been quite a day.It had been the first of many flying days to come.


Write a review! PLEASE NOTE: The purpose of reviewing a story or piece of art at the Sugar Quill is to provide comments that will be useful to the author/artist. We encourage you to put a bit of thought into your review before posting. Please be thoughtful and considerate, even if you have legitimate criticism of a story or artwork. (You may click here to read other reviews of this work).
* = Required fields
*Sugar Quill Forums username:
*Sugar Quill Forums password:
If you do not have a Sugar Quill Forums username, please register. Bear in mind that it may take up to 72 hours for your account to be approved. Thank you for your patience!
The Sugar Quill was created by Zsenya and Arabella. For questions, please send us an Owl!

-- Powered by SQ3 : Coded by David : Design by James --