Lumos

Chapter Two: "Ab Initio"

George Weasley

August 1989

George Weasley sat hunkered beside Fred on the couch. The 11-year-old balanced a plate of biscuits in his lap, taking a large, satisfied bite before looking back up to face his father.

"Do you think there'll be any of the bad sort at Hogwarts, then?" he asked, thoughtfully chewing on the blueberry chunk treat.

Arthur scrubbed his hands through his hair and leaned forward. "Unfortunately, boys, I don't doubt it."

"It doesn't make any sense to me," Fred said, reaching over George's arm to pluck up another biscuit from the plate. "Anyone with more than rocks in their head would know that all blood is just blood, whoever you are."

Mr. Weasley nodded, chin firm. "Yes, and don't you forget it." He paused, glancing back and forth between the twins. "It's my hope that this won't be a concern, but you need to be prepared, in case you have a run in with an extremist." Arthur took a slow bite of his own biscuit and swallowed. "There are some who refer to our family as 'blood traitors.'"

"Sounds pretty wicked to me," George said, grinning. Arthur's face looked pinched.

"It's not," Charlie's voice floated down from the landing near the stairs. "It's a horrid term used for 'pure-bloods' like us who don't follow pure-blood ideology. It's their way of trying to bully and shame others into believing the same, awful things that they do." The older boy was strapping on his quidditch pads hurriedly.

"Will they call Fred and I blood traitors, Dad?" George asked, looking back at his father. Charlie came to sit on the arm of the sofa beside him.

"Perhaps. But, that's not what Dad's worried about. Everyone knows that a Weasley can protect their own." Charlie said. He ruffled George's hair and gave Fred's shoulder a friendly shove before continuing. "At Hogwarts, most people are kind, but you may see some blokes treating the mugglebornes with disrespect, even violence if they can get away with it. Heck—a Ravenclaw in my year even called someone a mud—"

"That's enough, Charles," Arthur cut in, shooting the teen a stern glance.

Charlie shrugged. "It's nothing they won't hear themselves, Dad," he said.

Fred rubbed at his shoulder, biscuits forgotten. "What'd they call them?" he asked.

George leaned in, hoping to catch the answer.

Mr. Weasley huffed and lowered his voice. "Alright. No telling your mother, but I agree with Charlie. I think you ought to know this term for yourselves. It's a vile, horrible thing to call muggleborne witches and wizards, and it's something no son of mine will ever say. Are we clear?" Mr. Weasley stared intently at the twins. They nodded.

"Mudblood." Arthur exhaled the word with a grimace. "Now, if you hear anyone say that, I want you to go straight to your head of house or a professor that you trust. Don't just stand there. Intervene, even if it's not the popular thing to do. Heavens forbid, if they're picking on a muggleborne student, I expect you to stand tall for what's right, you hear me?" Arthur's eye contact was intense, and the twins nodded, solemn. Finally, Mr. Weasley placed his hands on his knees and stood. "With luck, your fellow students will all be kind, courteous young people who would never dream of using that sort of language. But, I felt you should know before your first year, just in case."

The elder Weasley headed back to the kitchen in search of tea, leaving Charlie with the twins.

"Charlie," George started, the cogs in his mind turning. "What'd you do when you heard that Ravenclaw said it?"