Author's Note: Written for…

The Next Gen Competition. Prompt: Fred Weasley fails an exam.

No Laughing Matter

"I can't believe I got a D," Fred wailed, flopping dramatically face-down on his bed.

He could hear James laughing from the bed next to his.

"Stop complaining," Molly said, tossing a notebook so it bounced off her cousin's head. "At least your dad doesn't care if you fail a test. Mine's gonna kill me when he finds out about my T."

Fred rolled over to glare at her, straightening his glasses as he did. "Just because Mum and Dad don't put as much emphasis on my grades as Uncle Percy, doesn't mean it's not important to me," he told her, then stomped out of the room.

He scowled at everyone who got in his way as he headed out to the lake, where he always went to clear his head. There was a statue on the grounds not far from the lake, built years before he was born. It was made to honor all the people who had died during the Battle of Hogwarts, and was engraved with their names. Despite his poor mood, Fred stopped there and ran a hand along its surface, tracing the names with a long, dark finger until he reached the one that always made his heart skip a beat – his own.

"You wouldn't care either, would you?" he wondered out loud. He often found himself wondering what his namesake would say or do in certain situations, no matter how much his parents tried to convince him that his dad and Uncle Fred were exactly alike.

Fred the Second never had to worry about separating himself from his uncle. George had been very clear from the very beginning that there was no pressure to be anything like his dead twin – and thank goodness for that, because no one would ever be able to take his place. Still, Fred couldn't help but feel that his father would prefer it if he loosened up a bit and took an interest in the family business like Roxy did. Instead, Fred buried himself in books and was always desperate to learn.

"I don't want to be like you," he whispered to the stone, instantly feeling guilty for the admission. What was wrong with having aspirations? With wanting to make a name for himself that didn't have anything to do with joke products? They would never let him into the Department for International Magical Cooperation if he kept getting T's.

There was no pressure from anyone but himself, but sometimes that made it all the harder to break free from.