*author's note: I obviously own neither HP nor Jumper, so, you know... well, that's enough disclaimer. This is just something I got the itch to do. I always thought Ginny had way more potential than she was given in the HP books, so I like the idea of doing other stuff with her, and I thought it would be fun to throw her with Griffin and see what happens. These will all be one-shots, but will weave themselves into a bigger picture of a story as I add more of them. I have a hard time writing young Ginny, but I wanted to have them meet in Egypt when the Weasleys went after CoS and before PoA. I figured that could be around the time that Griffin was scouting out locations for his lair. Anyway, I wanted to get the meeting out of the way so the next encounters can be more fun. If you enjoy, let me know, if you don't, then just don't read it, k?

Griffin Meets Gryffindor

August 1993 ~ Egypt

Ginny Weasley knew she had no business being out of her tent at this time of night. Well, technically, it was morning, but that was beside the point. The point was that the night air was crisp, and cool, and Ginny was suffocating under the attentions of her family. Every waking moment, her skin crawled with the sensation of eyes, watching her.

They were afraid.

Ginny had been touched, and no one was quite sure if there would be any lasting taint. Maybe there was, she thought, as she reveled in the inviting night, away from the smothering hover of those that loved her most.

Ginny sighed, supporting herself against a slab of carved rock protruding from the sand. She had wandered so far she could barely see the tent in the darkness. The sand felt cool and she dug her bare toes in it, burrowing down as she leaned her head back and closed her eyes. For a moment, a cocoon of total contentment enveloped her.

Then, like a balloon, it burst, with an audible *pop*.

In a flash, her wand was in her hand and her eyes were open and alert. She stood straight and threw her head and shoulders back, finding herself face to face with a teenaged boy whose look of indignation was morphing into a bemused smirk at the sight of the little girl standing in front of him, brandishing a stick and looking very nervous.

"What are you gonna do with that, then, love?"

The voice with the slight Cockney lilt drew her focus from its owner's face to the wand in her hand. She pulled it back towards her, but did not lower it.

"I'll… gouge your eyes out with it." She mentally rolled her eyes at herself for her inferior comeback, but she was still in a state of shock. He appeared out of nowhere, so he must have Apparated, right? Meaning he was a wizard.

So where was his wand?

He took a step closer to her, then another. He looked down on her, his keen eyes piercing through her. "Kinda far away from home, aren't you, little girl?" His whisper tickled the length of hair that covered her ear, but when her eyes flashed upwards he was standing back from her, several steps away. She pooled all her courage and set her jaw, jutting her chin forward. "I just went for a walk. What business is it of yours? You don't own the desert." For a split second, he looked both incredulous and irritated, then finally confusion washed over his features. His gaze penetrated her, as though he was trying to bore into her mind, see who she really was.

Or who she wasn't.

What was this little girl doing out here? Better yet, how did she get out here to begin with? There's nothing out here, not for miles. And what's with that stick she's holding? What does she really think she's going to do with that?

Ginny watched the various expressions that flit across the boy's face. Finally he arches one satirical brow, but the expression is betrayed by the tremor of caution in his voice. "So, love, you never did say where exactly it was you walked here from." Using her wand, Ginny points behind the boy towards her tent, but when he turns back to her with a blank stare she remembers the Illusionment charm around their campsite, making it appear like a sand dune to anyone except a Weasley. Rolling her eyes, she shrugs and again lowers her wand. "Trust me, there's a tent over there. Anyway, you don't hear me asking where you came from, do you?"

They locked eyes for a moment, one sizing up the other. Then the boy shook his head, laughing. "Fair enough, love." Ginny scooted over a bit as he plopped himself down beside her, landing with a thump as he sat down. She slid down the rock, slowly, until she was sitting next to him. Inherently, Ginny knew she should be wary, but more than anything she was curious about his presence. Besides, it was kind of nice to be around someone who was studying her for more than signs of an imminent freak-out.

He watched her brow contract as the girl seemed to lose herself in her thoughts. Obviously, she wasn't a Paladin, and he could tell instinctively she wasn't a Jumper, but there was definitely something about her. He could feel it in her aura, her presence. She was definitely young, although he'd been on his own at a much younger age, and she didn't seem to be at all afraid to be in the middle of nowhere, in the dead of night. He wondered briefly if this place had called to her as it had to him, brimming with that sense of isolated security that he so desperately needed.

That she needed, as well.

"Oi," he nudged her gently with his elbow, extracting her from her silent soliloquy and placing her back in the present, "got a name, do you?" She pondered his request for a moment, and as if settling some internal debate she nodded, and stuck out her hand. "Ginevra. Ginny. People call me Ginny." She pulls her hand back and runs it through her hair, looking over at him inquisitively. "Well?"

"Well, what?"

She just continued to look at him expectantly. "Come on. Fair's fair. I told you my name. You tell me yours." For a split second the look on his face turns so sour Ginny thinks he might not actually tell her, but then he sighs and looks out over the moonlit desert.

"Name's Griffin."

A childish snort escapes her before she can stop it. "You're not serious," she mutters without thinking, not minding the offended expression on Griffin's face. "Think my name's funny, do you? At least my name doesn't sound like some wannabe Camelot, mists of Avalon throwback." At this Ginny's hand flies over her mouth, and she turns away to stifle her giggles. "I'm sorry," she chokes out as she attempts to regain control, "you would be mythical, too, wouldn't you?" Her fingers pull under her eyes, wiping away the tears that forced their way out with her laughter. Griffin turns away from her, looking rather miffed. "Oh, come on. I ignored your little Camelot comment." Ginny leans over, brushing against his arm with her shoulder. "I like your name. I'm sure it's…. fitting. Griffin; of earth and sky, human and divine."

Griffin couldn't tell if she kept talking. He had never thought of it before, the mythical implications of his name. Sure, he knew what a griffin was supposed to be, but he had forgotten what they symbolized.

Only God should have that power.

But maybe, they were the gods, after all. Divine will; divine right. Theirs to exercise. Suddenly Griffin felt an urgency overtake him. He wanted to set up shop, get ready.

Get moving.

He stood up abruptly and put out both his hands. Without thinking, Ginny put her hands in his and felt up haul her upwards, lifting her back to her feet. "Well, then, it's been lovely, but I really must be off. Where did you say your tent was again?" Ginny motioned with her chin towards the site, but before she could open her mouth to speak she felt a slight pull around her and squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them, she was standing not two feet away from her tent. She looked at Griffin, her unasked question in her eyes, but his smug look was her only response, so instead of pressing the issue, she just smiled. "Thanks for the lift," she whispered, walking towards her tent, ignoring the look of disbelief on Griffin's face when he saw what appeared to be a dark expanse, like a hole, form over the curve of the dune, swallowing Ginny inside it, then disappearing. He walked over and gingerly touched the dune with the tips of his fingers, feeling nothing but sand beneath them. He took a few steps back, still watching the dune, then jumped, leaving nothing but a whirl of sand behind him on the early morning breeze.