Unfortunately for me, fortunately for the rest of the world, Ginny Weasley, Colin Creevey, and the rest of 'em don't belong to me, they belong to J.K. Rowling.
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Afraid of the Dark
Chapter 1: First Year Punch Neurosis
* * *
Ginny Weasley shook her head vehemently back and forth, sending her longish pigtails aflight. "It can't be true. Don't tease me."
One flaming-red pigtail smacked Colin Creevey right on the nose; his ear-to-ear grin didn't fade a bit. "I wouldn't tease about something like this!" He pushed the day's copy of the Daily Prophet across the gleaming rosewood table. "The headlines don't lie! Read the article!" Ginny snatched up the front page and read the two-inch high headline: FEARED DARK WIZARD MEETS HIS END IN FRIDAY M.L.E.S STRIKE! She shot Colin a quick, disbelieving glance, then turned her attention to the article: On Friday, a quartet of Hit Wizards from the M.L.E.S "We figured that, although he was still a possible threat, A M.L.E.S. spokeswitch told reporters in a Friday "This mission was mainly done because of the public The Hit Wizard quartet seemingly had no problems Only one mystery lingers over the death of the "After the bolts hit him, it was kind of hard to tell The fourth member of the squad, Davoren Chillingworth, At this point it would be impossible to tell whether the "The school governors and I have agreed to give the A final quote from the entire Ministry of Magic sums
(Magical Law Enforcement Squad) infiltrated the residence
of the Dark wizard Tom Riddle, who is better known
under his alias Voldemort. The elite group was assigned
by the M.L.E.S. to eliminate the infamous wizard, who
is perhaps best known for his partial defeat by young
Harry Potter in 1980. Riddle had been under M.L.E.S.
surveillance for five years, but due to what the organization
calls "more pressing matters," no break-in attempts had
been made.
we had more important things to deal with," said
Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge, in a statement to
the press on Friday. "I mean, he'd lost all his power!
He didn't even have a body!" According to one Hit
Wizard who was on the team, he no longer had a
tangible human body, instead possessing a "kind of
ghostly body, like he was there but he wasn't." To quote
further from Fudge: "He couldn't do much real damage
without a body to inhabit, and--especially in light of
the 1992 incident with Quirrell--I don't think anyone
would do that."
press conference that "Voldemort had been dormant
for quite a while. We at the M.L.E.S. believed that
he was no longer a threat to the magical community,
which is why we put off this mission for a long time.
Our men and women were more urgently needed for
the Sirius Black case. However, once that mission
was put on a standstill, we were able to send out
a small group to Albania for the purpose of recon
and assassination work."
pressure," stated Fudge at a later press conference.
"Even though You-Know-Who, er, Voldemort, was
really nothing to worry about anymore, our feedback
showed that people still considered him a problem."
fighting Voldemort. "Blimey, I knew he was a lot
weaker than he was, back in the day, but I was still
shocked when I saw just how old and frail he'd
become," said Hit Wizard Mackenzie Mettere, in
a Friday interview with Daily Prophet reporters.
Mettere was a fourth of the squad sent to take out
Voldemort. "For crying out loud, he couldn't even
keep a steady grip on his wand."
Dark wizard. According to Gawain Prewett, the
leader of the Hit Wizard squad, the lightning spell
used to eliminate Voldemort may not, in fact, have
been what killed him. "All four of us cast the spell,
thinking he would dodge it. But he just stood there
and took the blow, without even trying to run,
almost as if he wanted to die."
what happened, but I saw a huge flood of white
light kind of come out from his body and fill the
room," said D'Arcy Kiewel, another member
of the squad and a rookie Hit Wizard. "That kind of
thing doesn't happen with that spell, shouldn't happen.
Although I've never seen one, it reminded me of
what a kamikaze spell is supposed to look like."
had the last word on the matter in the interview. "He
probably did kill himself. Voldemort cut a pitiful figure
--demented, senile, weak, just a wreck of a man.
I guess living his half-life just wasn't worth it anymore."
Dark wizard died at his own hand or from the Hit
Wizards' attack. Either way, the entire magical community
is celebrating the death of this man, who racked up the
highest count of murders in recorded history.
students a week-long holiday," said Albus Dumbledore,
current headmaster of Hogwarts School of Wizardry
and Witchcraft. "I believe they deserve it, considering the
effect Voldemort had on all their lives. Also," added
Dumbledore with a laugh, "I think it would be nigh
impossible to keep the students from the numerous
celebrations."
it all up: "His death marks the end of an era stained with
blood. We're not celebrating his death, we're celebrating
the fact that we can finally put this entire Voldemort matter
to rest and look toward a future filled with Light."
Slowly, Ginny set the page down on the table. "Wow. I just can't believe he's really dead. How could he have gotten so weak?" She felt a cold chill tingle down her spine. Her last view of Voldemort, whom she knew better as Tom Riddle, had been from the bone-littered floor of the Chamber of Secrets. He had been pretty powerful then--although it was Ginny's strength he'd been using.
"I don't know," admitted Colin, shrugging. "I would've guessed he was a lot stronger--after all, everyone's afraid to even say his name--but maybe he wasn't. You would know better than I would."
"Not really." Ginny brushed a strand of hair from her face and propped her head up on her fists. "You're talking about the diary, right? Riddle didn't write about himself at all. It was just me and my whining." She frowned down at the table. "I can't believe I was so stupid. You'd think, with a father that investigates enchanted Muggle stuff for a living, I would've known better."
"Don't be so hard on yourself, Ginny," said Colin, trying to be comforting. "It wasn't your fault Riddle enchanted you. And anyway, he's dead now, right?" He flipped open the paper and pulled out the comics section, sliding it over to Ginny. "The comics are really funny today. Do you read Martin Miggs?"
"Um, no," said Ginny absentmindedly, wondering at Colin's sudden and inexplicable topic change, which was most likely an attempt to cheer her up. "I don't."
"You should, it's hilarious." Colin leaned over the table and pointed out the strip. "It's all about this Muggle and his misadventures, but today the cartoonist changed it a bit...just read it."
Reluctantly--she wasn't much of a cartoon girl, nor was she in the mood--Ginny looked down to the five-frame strip labeled The Adventures of Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle. In the first frame was a tiny baby pointing a wand at a shaking man in a dark cloak. The baby wore glasses and had a lightning-bolt scar. Rolling her eyes, Ginny read the caption below: "1980--Young Harry Potter defeats the Dark wizard Voldemort." She went on to the next frame, which showed Harry holding a glittering Sorceror's Stone in hand. Below was: "1992--Harry thwarts Voldemort, yet again." The third frame's picture was one of Harry smiling and riding a basilisk, with Riddle shaking his fist in a threatening sort of way. Caption: "1993: And again..." Next was a frame filled with large text: "Now that Voldemort isn't making another comeback, the question is..." In the last frame, Harry was back, with a confused expression and shoulders shrugged, saying, "What will I do for a hobby now?"
"What do you think?" asked Colin. "Funny? I thought so." It was still slightly surprising to Ginny that he wasn't scandalized. The same cartoon back in his first and second year most likely would have spurred a semi-hostile Daily Prophet boycott. But about the time Ginny's hero-worshipping of Harry had escalated to an all-time high, Colin's had dropped to a dull admiration. She wasn't even sure if he still had his picture of Harry and Lockhart from first year. He probably did.
"Um, yeah, funny," she said listlessly. The comic wasn't very amusing, and the Daily Prophet's headline was still screaming in her ears. How could Tom--she quickly changed that to Riddle--possibly be dead? The frail and ghostly man that was Voldemort seemed such a far cry from the young man she'd first seen in the Chamber of Secrets but known for a long time before that. Thought she'd known, that is. Ha. She drew a squiggly line in the dust on the table. With a few more strokes and two thumbprints, it had fangs and huge bulbous eyes. How could she have trusted him? Stupid. He must have been laughing at her the entire time she wrote to him, laughing when she told him of her petty troubles with her brothers, laughing when she confided her crush on Harry to him, laughing because he knew she would deliver Harry right into his hands.
And all the time, he wrote such sweet, thoughtful, kind replies, sympathizing with her and supporting her, telling her what a marvelous girl she was. And she loved him for it. Stupid. Even when she knew that he was using her, sapping the strength out of her body, she still did nothing, because she thought he cared. That he was the only one who did. Harry surely didn't care. Of course, Harry had saved her life in the end. Stupid.
When Tom--no, no, Riddle--manifested himself, her first thought had been that he was handsome--yes, handsome. Stupid, stupid, stupid!
Ginny slammed her fist down and erased the tiny dust basilisk with a furious vengeance. This time she was the one laughing. Ha, ha, ha! Riddle was dead, and he wouldn't be coming back! She pounded the remains of the basilisk again.
Suddenly Colin lowered his section of the paper to peer over at Ginny, specifically her gleefully angry face and her clenched fist. He cleared his throat nervously. "Look, Ginny, I'm sorry for offending you, don't think I was trying to make fun of you or anything. I should have known you wouldn't find a strip with Harry in it funny, seeing as how you..." Again he cleared his throat. "Sorry."
Ginny stared at him for a long and bewildered moment. Why was he so apologetic all of a sudden? Understanding finally came when she noticed the comics had fallen to the floor, obviously from her table beating. She buried her face in her hands. That was Colin for you. Much too nice, aiming to please, and always clueless. "Colin," she sighed, "just because I like Harry"--Colin got a slightly bemused expression on his face, the way he did whenever she talked about Harry in an affectionate way (she chalked it up to overprotectiveness; he must've spent too much time with Ron)--doesn't mean I'd freak over a comic that pokes a little fun at him. You didn't do anything. I wasn't even thinking about it."
"Oh, well then, all right." He still looked a bit worried; Ginny decided to change the subject before he tried to apologize again.
"So, are you going to any of the celebrations?" she asked. "There must be fifty going on right now--at least it sounds like it!"
"Any excuse for a party, right?" Colin laughed. "That's the Gryffindor motto. Um, actually, I have an assignment due tomorrow for Photography Club that I haven't started yet, and since I'm the president it wouldn't look good if I didn't do it, so...I think I might just stay behind--"
"I don't want to go by myself!" exclaimed Ginny. "You have to come!"
"You could get Ron to take you--"
"Oh, that's a good idea," Ginny said sarcastically. "If I'm going to do that, I might as well just bring all my older and overprotective brothers along with me too. They don't like me even spending time with you, and it's not like you're my boyfriend or anything. Remember what Ron did when he found out Seamus was going to ask me out?"
"Does he still have the black eye?"
"Mm-hmm. Ron would probably even beat up Harry if he thought he liked me. I think..."
A cartoonish image of Ron and Harry in a wrestling arena popped up in Ginny's head, along with Lee Jordan's familiar voice: "Hello, wrestling fans, and welcome to the bout of the season! Oh yeah, it's the one you've been waiting for--let's bring out our fighters! First, this Hogwarts seventh year is a hero and a poster boy for the Light side--yes, it's none other than HARRY "THE LIGHTNING BOLT" POTTER!"
Clad in a long red cape embroidered with a golden lightning bolt, Harry strutted out into the ring. He flung a bouquet of red roses into the crowd, at which point all the females promptly fainted.
"Ooh, a ladies' man!" crooned Jordan. "And still undefeated! But will his competitor be the one to break that streak? Known for extreme hostility toward his little sister's suitors, he's a fellow Hogwarts seventh year, overprotective big brother, and Quidditch water boy, it's RON "THE WEASEL" WEASLEY!"
From offstage came Ron's outraged voice: "What kind of nickname is that?" He ran up to join Harry in the ring. "'The Weasel'? If you're going to put me in your dream sequence thingy, Ginny, at least give me a cool name, like 'The Destroyer' or 'The Annihilator' or something. And I'm not going to fight Harry either, it's not like you're dating him anyway. Can I fight Malfoy instead? I'll do that!"
"Ack! He even bothers me in my daydreams!" said Ginny, annoyed. She looked over at Colin pleadingly. "Can't you do the project later? I need someone to go with me and sidetrack Ron--you're good at that."
Evidently spending the night playing a game of keep-away with Ron wasn't Colin's idea of fun, judging from the expression he wore. Ginny could tell he was considering it, though. "Um, well, I don't know if I'll have enough time to finish it if I go...."
"Please?" begged Ginny. "I can't go by myself--it'll be too lonely without you! Who will I whine to?"
Colin smiled. "All right, then. If you so desperately need me, I can't refuse." He got up from his chair, beginning to walk toward the picture hole, when Ginny grabbed him by the arm.
"Stop! I'm not ready!" She dashed up to her dormitory, dragging Colin along with her. "I haven't even combed my hair yet--"
"It looks fine, really--" began Colin.
"No, it doesn't!" Ginny rapped the sixth year girls' dorm room door sharply. "Is anyone inside?" There was no answer, only silence. "Guess they all must be at the party. You can come in, if you want. I don't mind."
"Um, well...." Peeking inside the room quickly to make sure he wouldn't be put in any awkward situations, Colin tentatively stepped into the dormitory. Meanwhile, Ginny ran into the bathroom and yanked open her drawer, which was filled with combs, brushes, hair potions, and an array of yummy-smelling things. Choosing a brush, she pulled out her pigtails and began the arduous job of combing through her long hair. Too bad there isn't an instant-detangle spell, she thought, struggling with an especially stubborn knot. The hard work paid off in the end, though; her waist-length, coppery hair gleamed.
While looking at herself in the mirror, waving her hair back and forth to watch the way it shimmered under the fluorescent lights, a thought formed in the back of her mind. I wonder if Harry will be at the party? Of course he would be, he usually wasn't one to pass up a celebration. Most likely, he would come with Hermione Granger at his side. She'd been his sort-of girlfriend for a long while now.
Hermione triggered another thought: She's not right for him. They were compatible, sure, but the point seemed to be in another idea, one that kept floating up to the front of Ginny's mind, no matter how many times she tried to shove it back down with the flotsam and jetsam of other ill-fated ideas: I'm right for him.
No, no, stupid thought, go away. It was inevitable--any thought that she tried to wipe from her mind was then lodged in there permanently. All the embarrassing moments of her life--which were innumerable and mostly centered on her relationship with Harry--were kept in spotless perfection, to recall whenever she needed a little self-esteem downer. They only came in handy to steer her away from reckless attempts at telling Harry how she felt about him.
Remember when you wrote that poem, "Fresh Pickled Toad", and the dwarf sang it to him? He was so mortified, probably because your poem was horrifically bad...
I was only a first year! Besides, I'm right for him; Hermione's not! Even if she can write poetry!
How about when you sat next to him at lunch, but you got so nervous you spilled tomato soup all over him?
Well, at least it matched his Quidditch robe! Just because Hermione's more graceful than I am doesn't mean anything!
Think you can outsmart yourself, eh? What about the day when you thought you'd tidy up his broom as a favor, but you slathered on super glue instead of broom polish--
Shut up, shut up, shut up!
Hahaha! His robe was stuck to the broom, and McGonagall had to cut him out!
It was an accident! It could have happened to anyone!
You're having a conversation with yourself again. Harry prefers girls who still have their sanity. Think about it.
About what?
Even if--by some freak miracle--Harry was interested in you, you'd still be as neurotic as you are now.
"I'm not neurotic!"
Oh yes, you are. You argue with yourself, out loud, may I mention--"
"What?!" Ginny clapped a hand over her mouth and pivoted around. Fortunately, Colin was on the other side of the room. She turned back to the mirror and had just started to brush her teeth when the pesky little voice started up again.
You only did it once. But that's bad enough. It's not like you don't already act like a hopeless ditz around Harry--
No, I don't... Her brain threw a wad of blush-worthy memories at her and laughed. Well, maybe I do, but it's justified. He's Harry!
--and if you start talking to yourself around him, they'll probably throw you in the loony bin with Lockhart. You get nervous enough just sitting next to him, what if you actually had to, God forbid, start a conversation with him?
I started a conversation with him before!
A conversation consists of more than "Hi, Harry!"
"Oh, shut up! I don't want to hear it!"
You talked out loud again, you think Harry might actually have a romantic interest in you, and now you're telling yourself to shut up--you really are crazy.
"I'm not listening anymore!" She looked around for something distracting, then remembered Colin.
"Hey, Colin, where'd you go?" When the door was open, the bathroom mirror reflected an image of the bedroom. Ginny searched in the mirror to catch a glimpse of Colin and found him, sitting on the edge of her bed. Suddenly, as if remembering that he was committing some great, scandalous crime, he leapt up to his feet, looking around anxiously. "Colin, I don't care if you sit on my bed," Ginny reassured him. He was blushing madly, and--like Ron--his ears had turned an amazing shade of scarlet.
"No, no, I think I'll just sit on...the floor, er, I guess--maybe I shouldn't be in here, what if someone comes in?"
"Trust me, no one's going to care if you're in here. Everyone's at the party anyway," said Ginny. "Which is why we need to hurry up and get going."
Just then the pesky voice began whispering in her ear again: Why would you need to hurry, there's no reason for you to go anyway? You'll just be standing in the corner, sipping punch made by first years and watching Harry and Hermione burn up the dance floor...
"All right, I'm ready," said Colin.
...hoping that maybe he likes you. Then he'll come up to you and you'll think he's going to profess his secret love for you, but he'll just be wanting a punch refill...
"Ahem, Ginny?"
You're the crummy first year punch, and Hermione's the champagne. See, you can't even think of good analogies! How could Harry ever like you?
"Ginny?"
She swiveled around suddenly from the mirror and fixed Colin with an intense, serious stare. "Colin, am I the crummy first year punch?"
Absolutely bewildered, Colin gawked at her, thanking the gods that he was not female. "Um, Ginny, I think I missed something here..."
"Am I the crummy first year punch? You know, the kind that has chunks of old, rotting fruit in it, the kind that leaves a really bad taste in your mouth after you drink it? Am I that, or am I the champagne?"
"Um, I don't really know what you're talking about," said Colin, in an almost desperate voice. "I don't think you're any sort of beverage...."
"Oh, come on, don't be so daft! Am I the stupid, whiny, not-good-enough-for-Harry punch or the intelligent, witty, beautiful, perfectionist champagne?" she repeated.
"Well, um, I guess you're champagne, then--is that the right answer?"
"No," she said, while shaking her head up and down. "Oh, cripes, I think I'm going mad. Do you think I'm going mad?" Ginny looked up at him pleadingly. "I'm not, am I?"
"Of course not.... I think you should probably get out of this room," said Colin, with an offhand look to Ginny's cosmetics drawer. "The perfumes might be going to your head...." He took her by the hand and led her out of the bathroom, down to the common room.
"That doesn't sound very convincing, Colin," said Ginny. She planted her feet firmly on the steps leading to the common room. "Do you think I'm crazy?"
"Boy-crazy...no, make that Harry-crazy," he muttered softly. What Ginny heard was, "No, you're not crazy, you're probably just still shocked about Voldemort's death, and that's why you're acting a bit strangely. I talk to myself, too--just not out loud."
"Maybe that's it," said Ginny. "I usually don't think out loud either. Thanks, Colin. You're probably right, it was Riddle..."
That reminds me, I can't believe you actually trusted Riddle, came the pesky, accusing voice. Harry almost died because of you--
Shut up! Riddle's dead now, remember? And Harry's still alive! Don't ruin my night! Ginny blocked the pesky voice from her mind and smiled over at Colin. She linked her arm in his. "Are you ready to do some celebrating?"
His eyes darted from their arms back to Ginny's face. "Um, yes! Absolutely! Let's go!"