Hurriedly Ginny manoeuvred her way through the sea of students, glancing up every now and then to make sure she was going in the right direction. As she was hustled and jostled by the crowd a wave of claustrophobia spread through her body and she clutched even more tightly to her bag, the metal buckle of which was forced even more deeply into her trembling hand.
At long last Ginny found herself standing opposite a large wooden door, which stood behind a mass of children who were huddled in groups. Ginny's eyes swept the scene before her, in hope of seeing a familiar face or perhaps just a smaller and more welcoming group. No such luck. The young girl bit her lip as she watched her classmates chat with each other, some eyeing her suspiciously, others shuffling closer to each other preventing anybody else from joining their little circle of friends. The unfriendly and unwelcoming attitude of Ginny's new class only worsened the dull pain in her stomach, which was getting steadily stronger.
As her mind started to wander the classroom door sprang open and a woman, tall and wearing a beautiful emerald set of robes, barked at the first years to form a line and enter the classroom.
The atmosphere changed instantly and the small babble of the class subsided into complete silence. Slowly and silently Ginny and her classmates marched through the gaping doorframe and stood in a circle at the end of the classroom, awaiting further instructions. The woman then called their names, motioning for the first years to take their seats as she did so. There was a quick scramble as children rushed to desks, saving some seats for their friends, pushing and shoving Ginny as they went. Her eyes skimmed the dark room until she spotted a single desk, the only one available, located next to the window of the classroom far on the right-hand side. Head down, the redhead walked briskly to her seat and sat alone in a new room full of strangers.
The woman she came to learn was the strict Professor McGonagall who had a knack for catching Ginny's brothers, Fred and George when they were getting up to mischief. Ginny smirked slightly, hardly listening to the transfiguration professor as she explained that no foolishness or idleness was tolerated in her class and if ever someone misbehaved they would be sent out immediately.
"Miss Weasley pay attention if you please!" Professor McGonagall's voice sliced through the air like a sharp knife. Ginny who had been thinking of the small black diary stowed in her bag jumped up in her seat and faced the older witch whose lips formed a tight straight line.
"Sorry Professor," croaked the youngest Weasley, horrified that she had been told off in her first week at Hogwarts.
With a small nod, Professor McGonagall strode to a brown wardrobe and collected two boxes of matchsticks, which then she put on her desk.
"Transfiguration enables a witch or a wizard to change an object into another. It is one of the most complex types of magic, which requires a witch or wizards full attention and concentration. Today we will begin with a simple spell to transfigure a matchstick into a needle. I will need all of you to turn to page 10 of your Beginner's guide to Transfiguration and Mr Creevey would you please hand out three matchsticks to each student." McGonagall motioned at a young boy, whom Ginny recognised to be a fellow Gryffindor, to come to the front and handed him a box of matchsticks to give out to the class.
Ginny spent the rest of the hour struggling to turn her matchstick into a needle. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the bell rang to mark the end of a lesson and the room was left empty in a matter of seconds, all students having scurried rapidly out of the classroom and into the hallway.
The morning passed quickly and soon it was lunchtime, the time of day Ginny Weasley had been dreading. She marched silently and solitarily to the Great Hall which was filled with students of all ages and was relieved to see her brother Ron and to her slight embarrassment Harry Potter, sitting at the Gryffindor table.
Self-consciously she smoothed her red fly-away hair down and walked eagerly to the long table, anxious to perhaps make conversation with the Boy-Who-Lived. To her great disappointment, the only seat available was one next to a second-year girl, whom she could only presume was Hermione Granger. It was shortly after she had settled down at the table that Errol landed albeit clumsily on the mahogany table, a red letter in his beak.
Never, she thought, was she ever, ever going to forgive Ron for what he had done.
Angrily she stomped to the library her bag swinging madly on her shoulder, tears of humiliation and anger spilling down her burning cheeks, which she wiped off viciously with her sleeve. A Howler of all things! With one lance violent sniff, she tried to regain composure and then walked briskly to a table in the library pulling a small black diary out of her satchel as she did so. Tom would cheer her up she thought. He was kind and he cared about her feelings. He understood what it felt like to start at a new school after 6 older brothers who were all known for something or other. As Ginny opened the small black book, her quill millimetres from the cream pages, the same blond haired boy whom McGonagall had asked to hand out the matchsticks during Transfigurations interrupted her.
"Um, exc-excuse me? Uh, do you mind if I sit here?" he said nervously, an anxious smile on his face.
Jumping as though scolded, Ginny quickly closed the diary and hid it back in her bag.
"Sorry," apologised the boy, "I didn't mean to scare you."
"Not at all, not at all. Um, it's Creevey if I remember right?" Ginny pulled a face as she tried to remember his first name.
He smiled awkwardly. "Colin Creevey, and you are?"
"Ginny Weasley," she answered, extending a pale freckled hand which Colin shook enthusiastically.
Sorry but just another wee note just to thank those who reviewed Obliviate. Thank you so much, I really appreciate it! They really made my day. :)