Author's Note: I am the seeker for the Falmouth Falcons. My prompt is: Write about someone showing skill or interest in the subject before starting their magical education. Subject: Care of Magical Creatures.

A Bucket of Worms

Charlie Weasley dug through the soft mud at the bank of the small stream that ran along the far edge of The Burrow. It was May and unusually warm for that time of year. The sun soaked into Charlie's skin, warming his back and making the fabric of his shirt damp with sweat.

It was quiet and peaceful down near the stream-no baby Ron screaming or the twins getting underfoot in their shenanigans. Charlie loved having a large family-the constant presence of his siblings for the myriad of chasing games he and Percy could come up with provided endless entertainment-but sometimes he just needed to be by himself, exploring his own interests.

He carefully made his way down a particularly muddy embankment, sliding and skidding halfway down, and landed on his knees. Dirty water from the small puddles soaked into the knees of his pants-Charlie knew his mum would be angry at him for ruining another pair-as he spotted a rather interesting creature half-burrowed in the soil. Pushing the branches of a bush out of the way, he crouched down and carefully unearthed the creature from the ground.

"A flobberworm!" he exclaimed happily and tucked the small worm in his front pocket.

Smiling, he dug around the same area, knowing that if he had found one flobberworm, there were bound to be more nearby. For the next ten minutes, Charlie occupied himself with collecting the small worms and placing them carefully in his pockets. They were delicate creatures, and he wished he had brought one of his mum's gathering baskets. However, there wasn't time to return home and grab one before he was due back for dinner.

Charlie glanced up at the sky. The sun had long since passed its zenith and started its journey back down to the horizon. Mum would have dinner going on the stove, and he knew Dad would soon return home from work. Joy bubbled in his chest. His dad always expressed his fascination with the various creatures he found, and Charlie knew the man had a particular interest in flobberworms. Brushing his pants off and ignoring the dark stains on his knees, he climbed back up the embankment and started across the field, the Burrow just visible over the hillock.

As Charlie neared home, the distinct sound of his mum yelling-most likely at the twins-could be heard. Carefully pulling his shirt down over the bulge created by the dozen-or-so flobberworms he had found, Charlie pushed through the kitchen door. The inside of the Burrow was filled with the usual chaotic disorder Charlie had long since grown used to. On the stove, dinner simmered away as Ron clutched the edge of the playpen and jumped up and down, babbling what Charlie could only understand as nonsense. He gave his youngest brother a quick pat on the head as he walked past.

"Hi, Mum. Just going to wash up for dinner," he said quickly as he walked through the kitchen, his body turned away from any scrutinizing eyes.

His mother, however, was too busy scolding the pair of three-year-old boys, their faces and clothing covered in white, to notice her older son. Charlie took her distraction as a good sign and quickly made his way up the stairs, only to be stopped by Percy.

"What's that in your pocket?" The younger boy pointed at the bulge that was now writhing.

Charlie deftly took his brother by the shoulders and spun him around. He gave him a gentle push. "It's nothing. Just some rocks I found." He gestured down the stairs. "Go help Mum with the twins. They got into something-again."

Percy turned around, his wide eyes looking large on his small face. "Yeah, they made a huge mess in the bathroom. Don't go in there if you know what's good for you."

"Yeah, well, go help her." Charlie covered his pocket with his hand, hoping the movement appeared natural. If there was one thing Percy was good at, it was seeking out and finding what you wanted to keep hidden.

He sighed with relief when his brother continued down the stairs to the kitchen. Charlie made his way to his room, shut the door behind him, quickly knelt down by his desk, and reached underneath. He grasped around for a moment before his fingers found the metal edge of the bucket he had kept hidden. Pulling it out, he gently transferred the flobberworms from his pocket to the bucket, which he had filled with mud the other day. They wriggled around for a moment before burrowing themselves. Charlie watched them happily but jumped when a knock sounded at his door.

"Dinner's almost ready. I need your help setting the table." His mother entered his room and her eyes immediately snapped to the bucket. "Charlie Weasley! We have talked about this. No creatures inside the house."

Pushing the bucket behind him, Charlie looked up at his mother pleadingly. "They're only flobberworms, Mum. They won't make a mess or anything. I'll take care of them."

His mum's face remained stern as she propped her fists on her hips. "Absolutely not. Take them outside this instant, and put them back where you found them. Flobberworms belong outside."

"But-"

"No, Charlie. Outside, now!"

Sighing, Charlie took his bucket and rose to his feet. As he passed by his mother, she ran her hand over his head and through his hair.

"You have the kindest heart, my love," she said gently, kissing him on the top of his head, "but no more animals in the house."

"Alright," he mumbled, passing by his mother, bucket in hand.

oOo

In the mudroom, Charlie wiggled his feet back into his Wellies. As he headed back outside, he was interrupted by a loud crack in the side yard as his dad appeared just outside the house.

"Hi, Dad," Charlie said, hugging the man with one arm, the bucket of flobberworms slung over the other.

"Charlie! What do you have there?" Curiosity spread across his dad's face as he tried to peek into the bucket.

Charlie's shoulders drooped as he sighed. "I found some flobberworms, but Mum won't let me keep them in my room."

"Well, flobberworms wouldn't be happy inside," his dad reasoned. "Too warm and dry. They prefer cool and damp places." His dad glanced at his work shed thoughtfully and took his son by the shoulder. "Tell you what, you can keep them in my shed."

Charlie's face brightened. "Really?"

His father nodded. "As long as you don't tell your mother."