The Pride

Gryffindor could very likely be the ruckus causing, noise making, adventure chasing stereotype they allowed to exist. For they did in fact love causing a ruckus, making noise, and chasing adventure, there was a home in the adrenaline rush. It was something all of them shared, even the bookworms had their own personal drugs that they ran after. This was the reason Godric Gryffindor, all those centuries ago, created the Pride.

The Pride was the guiding hand in the lion tower. They kept all in good health and happy spirits, with passing grades, and whatever number of friends they deemed necessary. They cultivated the individual talents and helped them thrive. Led by the Pride Mother.

The first Pride Mother had been Godric Gryffindors daughter, Isolda, and the first Pride formed around her. Her three sisters were referred to as such, and their brother and husbands became their protectors. And her Pride had set an example, and for a thousand years, women of all types had stepped up to the bat, to lead, nurture, and guide the pesky lions they lived with.

And now, after almost seven hundred and forty-three years, a girl from the line of Gryffindor held the title of Pride Mother once more.

Ginevra Weasley was young, only in her third year, but she knew in her bones she belonged at the top. She was the seventh daughter. She had been possessed and lived through it. She had made mistakes and learned from them. It was her place.

And when Saoirse Coulter, the last Pride Mother, graduated, all knew who would take her place. None contested. None would want to.

Ginny ran the red tower like a muggle naval ship; first and second years had curfews, third through fifth years had strict study schedules, sixth and seventh years had intense plans for their futures. Whoever said that Slytherins were ambitious had never met a poor man's daughter. She made sure everyone was set up for success, whatever their version of success looked like. Her word was absolute.

But, in all honesty, it was hard to argue with the small red head, when there were three angry, tall, male versions of her standing behind her. Ron, George, and Fred, all stood at their baby sister's side, supporting her. No one dared defy the Weasley Clan.

Ginny sat on her feinting couch; eyes soft as she watched her lions. All were inside tonight, and the atmosphere was one of love and happiness, an atmosphere she had created.

Her Pride Sisters, Hermione, Lavender, and Anglina sat around her. She had just informed them of her plan to meet with Acacia and the other house leaders, and now was debating who to bring with her. "I suppose Ron is out for the count then." She mused; head tilted sideways as Hermione oiled her scalp. "The damage Malfoy and his crew has done is near irreparable."

"Yes, Ronald would indeed refuse to go." Hermione answered, "And so do I. Acacia may have done good work last year, but our first and second years were hell." Hermione thought back to the slurs, and jinxes, and isolation, and taunts, and overall cruelty the snakes had shown to her was difficult to shake off.

"I think George is your best bet, Gin." Angelina turned around as she spoke. "He is your least explosive brother. I doubt he'll start much of a scene, unlike Fred, who I think has pranks made especially for this exact scenario."

Lavender giggled, thumbing through her magazine, "I would pay to see that."

Ginny hummed. Her brothers had been the first boys to step up as protectors. It was expected. What was even more expected was that Harry had joined them, with his two best friends in the Pride, he knew he would be dragged in either way. So, it was not unusual that he walked straight over to Ginny as he and Ron came down from their dorm.

"Ginny, why did Ron just tell me you got a note from my sister?" He asked, his voice tight.

She rolled her eyes and patted the empty space beside her. "She gave me, Abreo, and Diggory matching notes. She wishes for a meeting between the four of us, in good faith."

"I want to go." He spoke. "I don't trust her other snakes not to try something."

Harry loved his sister. He would go to war for his sister. But as of the current moment, he did not like her or her friends. And he defiantly did not like the idea of sending his... his leader right into their clutches. He didn't care if they were nice now, he didn't care if he knew his sister would never hurt someone on purpose. This was Ginny. His best friend's little sister, the Pride Mother of Gryffindor. He would never let her go alone.

"We already decided that George would be the protector to accompany me. I had planned on asking Lavender to join as well."

"Well, you're taking two protectors."

"Harry-"

"Ginny." Harry tilted his head, "I have to go."

She narrowed her eyes at him and sighed. Harry was persistent, it was how he got into all his little troubles. And it was something Ginny was learning to rely on.

"Very well. Lavender-"

"I'll go." The dirty-blonde hummed. "I know how to play nice. When is it?"

"In two days."

Hours later, with a nearly dead fire as her only company, Ginny let a few tears slip from her eyes. Her head hurt so much these days, and she could never understand why, Fred had said it was stress from establishing herself as Pride Mother. Hermione had given her a potion to take but it was useless, and she had no time to try new options. The ache in the back of her skull was a constant.

Isolda watched from her perch on the wall, Ginny had her exact shade of deep auburn hair.