Disclaimer: Unfortunately, my name isn't J. K. Rowling...which means that I own nothing. While you guys read, I'll go cry in a corner about the fact that I didn't create this marvelous world and these amazing characters.


"You'd better get straight on the train, all of you, you've only got a few minutes to go," announced mum, checking her watch. "Well, have a lovely term, Ron, Ginny…"

The platform was crowded with parents saying quick goodbyes to their children and ushering them onto the scarlet steam engine. Parents waved and blew kisses to their kids on the train while smoke from the train curled around everyone's feet on the platform.

"Mr Weasley, can I have a quick word?" asked Harry.

Harry and my dad moved to the side to discuss whatever Harry needed to say while the Auror's kept shooting them suspicious looks.

My mum smoothed down my long, flaming red hair. "Be good Ginny."

"I'm always good," I scoffed.

Mum turned to Ron. "Look after your sister Ron."

"I can look after myself," I said, rolling my eyes.

"Yeah, I'll look after her," agreed Ron.

The shrill whistle signaling last boarding made mum jump. "Harry, quickly!"

Mum and dad helped load my trunk onto the train and then they heaved everyone else's onboard. I clamored up the steps and pulled my trunk to the nearest window. I could hear mum still talking to Harry since he was the last one onboard.

"Now, dear, you're coming to us for Christmas, it's all fixed with Dumbledore, so we'll see you quite soon," mum called through the window. The train started to move but she kept yelling after us. "You all make sure you look after yourselves and be good, and stay safe!"

Finally, the train rounded a corner and the platform was lost from view. I tugged my trunk after me as I made my way down the hallway to find Dean. Hermione and Ron passed me as they left for the prefect's carriage and pretty soon, Harry caught up to me.

He tapped me on the shoulder.

"Fancy trying to find a compartment?"

"I can't Harry, I said I'd meet Dean," I said brightly. "See you later."

I continued down the hallway— my mane of red hair dancing behind me— until I came to a compartment filled with Dean, his best friend Seamus, a friend of mine from Ravenclaw named Adrian and my best friend, Evanna.

"Hi," I said, pulling open the door and lugging my trunk in after me.

"Here," offered Dean. He stashed it in the overhead bin and then offered me the seat between Evanna and himself.

Evanna was small but she was stubborn and lively. She had long, dirty blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She had been my best friend since our first year.

We were all Gryffindor in here except for Adrian but he got along with Evanna and I so well that he was comfortably at ease.

"Had a good summer?" he asked, once I was seated.

Adrian was tall and gangly with mussed up, dark brown hair and thick black glasses. He was the cute, nerdy type but he was mostly too shy to flirt.

"Yeah, it was pretty good. What about yours?" I asked. I wasn't allowed to say that I spent most of my summer at Number 12 Grimmauld Place so I tried to remain vague.

"We took a family vacation to France," he announced proudly.

Dean wrapped an arm around my shoulders as we settled back to talk about our summers. While Dean and Seamus moved on to talk about their O.W.L results, Evanna, Adrian and I started talking about the latest edition of The Quibbler. I had a certain fondness for the magazine since my friend Luna Lovegood's father was the editor.

We had all just moved onto talking about Quidditch when Zacharias Smith strolled into our compartment.

"Hullo," he said, leaning against the sliding door frame.

"What do you want?" Evanna sighed, rolling her eyes.

Zacharias whipped out a copy of The Daily Prophet and opened the newspaper to show us a story about the battle in the ministry that happened two months ago. "Now that we're back at school, will someone tell us what actually happened?"

"Get out of here Smith," said Dean.

"I mean, you were there," said Zacharias, ignoring Dean and looking just at me. "You, your brother, Potter, Granger, Longbottom and Luna Lovegood were all there.

"Don't ask me," I shot back. "If you believe everything you read in The Daily Prophet then you should just write to the writers and they'll tell you what happened."

Zacharias rolled his eyes. "You can't deny you weren't there. What happened at the Ministry? What really happened?"

I stood up and whipped out my wand. "You have until the count of three Smith. I'm not telling you what happened."

Everyone's eyes bounced between us during the exchange. Dean was shaking his head while Evanna was grinning evilly.

Zacharias eyed my pointed wand but didn't back down. I bet he didn't think I was going to hex him. "I'll leave once you tell me what happened."

"One…"

"Just tell me what happened Weasley."

"Two…I'm warning you Smith."

"You aren't going to jinx me," he scoffed.

"I'm not? Hmm…three!"

A jet of red light hit Zacharias square in the face and he went flying backwards into the hallway. Miniscule little bats were flying out of his nose and attacking his face as he screamed and covered his face.

"Git," spat Evanna, slamming the compartment door closed on Zacharias.

"Bat-Bogey Hex?" asked Seamus with a grin.

I twirled my wand in my fingers triumphantly. "One of my favorites."

Suddenly the compartment door opened to reveal a short, portly man with a thick, walrus mustache. His belly preceded him through the compartment door and his buttons on his shirt seemed to be straining.

"May I ask who has hexed this lad out here?"

I hastily wiped the smirk off my face. "I did, sir."

The man turned to me and I was surprised to see glee on his face. "Why, that's a fine bit of magic there young lady. Who might you be?"

I stuck my wand in my pocket and held out my hand. "Ginny Weasley, sir."

"Ah, a Weasley," he chuckled, ringing my hand.

"Ah, may I ask who you are?"

He puffed out his chest importantly which only strained his buttons more. "Professor Horace Slughorn at your service."

Everyone murmured their greetings.

"So, I suppose I'm going to get into trouble before school even starts," I huffed.

Slughorn looked surprised. "In trouble? Oh no, dear girl."

"Ginny's not in trouble?" asked Adrian.

"No, of course not. In fact…" Professor Slughorn appraised me. "Why don't you come to a little party I'm having in my compartment."

I didn't know how to refuse without sounding rude so I nodded my agreement.

"Excellent," clapped Slughorn. "I have already sent out invitations to others so let us be on our way."

I shot a confused look to my group of my friends before being ushered out of the compartment by Slughorn. Someone had picked up Zacharias Smith, leaving the hallway empty. I followed Slughorn all the way to the front of the train and was ushered into his compartment.

There were already three other people in the compartment; a sixth year Slytherin boy, a seventh year Ravenclaw boy and a seventh year Gryffindor boy. They were all sitting together on one bench so I took the bench on the opposite side.

At my appearance, the Gryffindor and the Ravenclaw boys waved at me while the Slytherin boy just nodded in my direction.

Slughorn settled beside me, effectively squishing me in the corner by the window. "Now do you know everyone?" Without waiting for an answer, Slughorn shook his head. "Of course you wouldn't."

"Blaise Zabini is a sixth year Slytherin," announced Slughorn, indicating the tall black boy with high cheekbones and slanting eyes. He then gestured to the Ravenclaw boy who was nervous looking. "And this is Marcus Belby, a seventh year Ravenclaw."

"And this is Cormac McLaggen; perhaps you've come across each other—? No? Well, I suppose not all Gryffindors know each other."

Cormac McLaggen was a very large, wire-haired young man that I recalled seeing now and then in the common room.

"And lads, this is Ginny Weasley. I just saw her marvellous wand work," laughed Slughorn, wagging a finger at the boys.

"Is this everyone that's coming?" I asked.

"I daresay no," said Slughorn. "Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom should be on their way shortly."

"You invited Harry?" I asked.

The mention of Harry seemed to perk Slughorn up even more. "Do you personally know Harry Potter?"

"Yeah, sure," I said, shrugging my shoulders. "He's best friends with my brother so he spends almost every summer with us."

I was spared from Slughorn's excitement by the arrival of Neville and Harry himself. "Harry, m'boy!" boomed Slughorn, jumping up so that his belly filled up the remaining space in the compartment. "Good to see you, good to see you! And you must be Mr Longbottom!"

Neville nodded nervously and he and Harry took the remaining seats closest to the door. I stared out the window as Slughorn made introductions all over again but I was pulled out of my reverie by Slughorn mentioning me.

"—and this charming young lady tells me that she knows you!"

I grimaced at Harry and Neville from around Slughorn's back.

"Well now, this is most pleasant," said Slughorn cozily. "A chance to get to know you all a little better. Here, take a napkin, I've packed my own lunch: the trolley, as I remember it, is heavy on licorice wands, and a poor old man's digestive system isn't quite up to such things… pheasant, Belby?"

Marcus Belby started and accepted what like half a cold pheasant.

"I was just telling young Marcus here that I had the pleasure of teaching his Uncle Damocles," Slughorn said, mainly to Harry and Neville, now passing around a basket of rolls.

By the look on Marcus's face, he had no idea that they had been talking about his Uncle Damocles before the arrival of Harry and Neville.

"Outstanding wizard, outstanding, and his Order of Merlin most well-deserved. Do you see much of your uncle, Marcus?"

Unfortunately, Marcus had just taken a large mouthful of pheasant: in his haste to answer Slughorn he swallowed too fast, turned purple, and began to choke.

"Anapneo," said Slughorn calmly, pointing his wand at Marcus, whose airway seemed to clear at once.

"Not…not much of him, no," gasped Marcus, his eyes streaming.

"Well, of course, I daresay he's busy," said Slughorn, looking questioningly at Marcus. "I doubt he invented the Wolfsbane Potion without considerable hard work!"

"I suppose…" said Marcus, who seemed afraid to take another bite of pheasant until he was sure Slughorn had finished with him. "Er… he and my dad don't get on very well, you see, so I don't really know much about…"

His voice trailed away as Slughorn gave him a cold smile and turned to Cormac McLaggen instead.

"Now, you, Cormac," said Slughorn, "I happen to know you see a lot of your Uncle Tiberius, because he has a rather splendid picture of the two of you hunting Nogtails in, I think, Norfolk?"

"Oh, yeah, that was fun, that was," said Cormac. "We went with Bertie Higgs and Rufus Scrimgeour— this was before he became Minister, obviously—"

"Ah, you know Bertie and Rufus too?" beamed Slughorn, now offering around a small tray of pies; somehow, Marcus Belby was missed out. "Now tell me…"

It suddenly dawned on me why everyone here had been invited. Everybody here seemed to be invited because they were connected to somebody well-known or influential— everybody but me.

Blaise Zabini was interrogated after Cormac McLaggen and he turned out to have a famously beautiful witch for a mother. From listening to their conversation, I picked up that she had been married seven times; each of her husband's dying mysteriously and leaving her mounds of gold.

It was Neville's turn next after Blaise. I could see that is was a very uncomfortable ten minutes, for Neville's parents, well-known Aurors, had been tortured into insanity by Bellatrix Lestrange and a couple of Death Eater cronies. At the end of Neville's interview, I got the sense that Slughorn was reserving judgement on Neville to see if he had any of his parent's talent.

"And now," said Slughorn, shifting is massive weight in the seat with excitement crackling under every word. "Harry Potter! Where to begin? I feel I barely scratched the surface when we met over the summer!"

I watched Slughorn contemplate Harry for a moment as though Harry was a particularly large and succulent piece of pheasant, then said, "'The Chosen One,' they're calling you now!"

Harry said nothing even though everyone was staring at him, waiting for him to speak.

"Of course," continued Slughorn. "There have been rumors for years…I remember when—well—after that terrible night—Lily—James—and you survived—and the word was that you must have powers beyond ordinary—"

Blaise Zabini gave a tiny little cough that was clearly supposed to indicate amused skepticism.

"Yeah, Zabini, because you're so talented…at posing…," I burst out.

"Oh dear!" chuckled Slughorn comfortably, looking around at me. I was too busy glaring at Zabini around Slughorn's belly to pay Slughorn any attention. "You want to be careful, Blaise! I saw this young lady perform the most marvelous Bat-Bogey Hex as I was passing her compartment! I wouldn't cross her!"

Zabini merely looked contemptuously back at me.

"Anyway," said Slughorn, turning back to Harry. "Such rumors this summer. Of course, one doesn't know what to believe. The Prophet has been known to print inaccuracies, make mistakes—but there seems little doubt, given the number of witnesses, that there was quite a disturbance at the Ministry and you were there in the thick of it all!"

Harry simply nodded and Slughorn beamed at him.

"So modest, so modest, no wonder Dumbledore is so fond—you were there then? But the rest of the stories—so sensational, of course, one doesn't know quite what to believe—this fabled prophecy for instance—"

"We never heard a prophecy," said Neville, turning a bright pink as he said it.

"That's right," I said. "Neville and I were both there too, and all this 'Chosen One' rubbish is just the Prophet making things up as usual."

"You were both there too, were you?" said Slughorn with great interest, looking between me and Neville. I said more than I meant to so I clammed up against Slughorn's encouraging smile.

"Yes…well…it is true that the Prophet often exaggerates, of course…" Slughorn said, sounding crestfallen. "I remember dear Gwenog telling—Gwenog Jones, I mean, of course, Captain of the Holyhead Harpies—"

Slughorn meandered off into a long-winded reminiscence but I had the impression that Slughorn wasn't convinced at all by me and Neville.

That afternoon wore on with more anecdotes about illustrious wizards Slughorn had taught, all of whom had been delighted to join what he called the "Slug Club" at Hogwarts.

I wanted to leave but I couldn't think of how to do it without being overly rude. Finally, the train emerged from yet another long misty stretch into a red sunset, and Slughorn looked around, blinking in the twilight.

"Good gracious, it's getting dark already! I didn't notice that they'd lit the lamps! You'd better go and change into your robes, all of you. McLaggen, you must drop by and borrow that book on Nogtails. Harry, Blaise—anytime you're passing. Same goes for you miss," he said, winking down at me beside him.

Zabini was the first to push himself out of the compartment and into the darkening corridor. Harry, Neville and I followed Zabini back along the train.

"I'm glad that's over," muttered Neville. "Strange man, isn't he?"

"Yeah, he is a bit," agreed Harry, his eyes glued to the back of Zabini's head. "How come you ended up in there Ginny?"

"He caught me hexing Zacharias Smith," I said, flipping my hair. "You remember that idiot from Hufflepuff who was in the DA? He kept asking about what happened at the Ministry and in the end he annoyed me so much that I hexed him—when Slughorn came in I thought I was going to get detention, but he just thought it was a really good hex and he invited me to lunch! Mad, eh?"

"Better reason for inviting someone than because their mother's famous," said Harry, scowling at Zabini's head. "Or because their uncle—"

Harry suddenly broke off. "I'll see you two later," said Harry under his breath, pulling out his Invisibility Cloak and flinging it over himself.

"But what're you—?" asked Neville.

"Later," Harry hissed from somewhere I couldn't see.

Neville turned to me and I just shrugged. "Well, I'll see you later Neville. I have to go find Dean."

Neville waved to me as I retreated down the hallway the way I assumed Harry had went. A clenching in my stomach told me that Harry was up to something. I shook my head, ignoring the feeling in my stomach. Harry would be fine.


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I've taken passages and conversations from Half Blood Prince to try and make this story follow the real plot as best as possible :)