Disclaimer: I was not christened Joanne Kathleen Rowling, so I own nothing.
Chapter One: The Final Beginning
The morning of September first dawned leisurely and peacefully, spreading warm beams of pink sunrise across all of Britain.
A late summer breeze wafted from seaside, bringing with it the faint scent of brine. The cloudless rose sky was stabbed brilliantly with reds and oranges, bathing the ground in a saturated glow. All across the countryside, roosters were crowing, awakening the comfortably sleeping forms inside the farmhouses.
The accents of dew on the grass trembled as little children raced to their sheds, pulling out battered Cleansweep Sevens, Bluebottles, and Comet 260s for a final game of Quidditch with their older siblings before the Hogwarts Express departed from King's Cross Station in four hours.
Ginny Weasley shifted in her soft downy blanket, refusing to open her eyes. The new sun had peeked its rays into her bedroom window, but she was thinking about the prospect of the tedious train ride later that morning, and she wanted to savor these first few moments of early day.
A bird twittered happily outside, singing its song for the world. With each passing moment, Ginny could hear her parents awakening and preparing for the day ahead. Soon the smell of eggs and her mother's delicious scones drifted from the kitchen into Ginny's bedroom directly above. The soft hum of Molly's voice, directing the eggs to scramble and her father's muted early morning debate with the Daily Prophet (which he still received precisely, Ginny believed, for these matutinal disputes), along with the mouthwatering aromas, finally propelled her out of bed.
Yawning as she threw a an old Chudley Cannons sweatshirt of Ron's over her plain gray tee, she padded in her slippers out of her bedroom, down the stairs, and into the kitchen.
The Weasley kitchen was a sight to behold. It was a cramped room, filled predominantly with a rickety wooden table, meant to hold nine. These days, however, it only held three. Her mum was busy directing the pots to scrub themselves and did not notice Ginny's arrival immediately.
Arthur Weasley, however, vexedly pushed the paper aside, stood to greet his daughter. The tall man, whose vivid red hair did not fully cover his shiny pate, bent down to tightly hug Ginny.
"Morning," he whispered into her ear.
"Morning, Dad," she answered, hugging him back.
"How's the Prophet this morning?" she asked, laughing slightly.
"Oh, Merlin!" he groaned, his forehead wrinkling in disgust. "They've got some crackpot story about Moody, going on about his involvement with the Order, saying he was the best Auror of all time- which he was, mind you- but they seemed to have forgotten that when he died, they covered it up! Even with Kingsley as Minister, the Prophet hasn't become any more ethical…"
He trailed off, muttering to himself.
By this time, Molly Weasley had finished the pots, and turned around to greet her youngest child. Mrs. Weasley, while still pleasant and motherly, was mourning the loss of her son Fred. Her plump frame was a bit diminished, leaving her normally pulvinated figure rather gaunt looking. Dark circles ringed her warm brown eyes, the color of which she had passed down to Ginny. She was considerably more exhausted, yet embraced her daughter fondly.
"Good morning, dear, why don't you sit down? Stop getting your father so worked up! Arthur," she addressed her husband. "You know very well that the Prophet is hogwash, I don't know why you still receive it!" Shaking her head in a maternal fashion, she turned back to Ginny.
"Now, you've got a busy day ahead of you. We've got to get to the station by 10:45 in order for you to get settled." She explained the schedule while dishing out flavorful plates of scrambled eggs and arranging the freshly baked blueberry scones on a serving platter.
"Which means we'll need to leave here by… oh, let's see, 10:30. We'll Floo to the Leaky Cauldron and walk to the station. It's only a short walk, the trunk won't be too cumbersome… You've packed all your books and clothes, Ginny?"
Ginny nodded her affirmation, considering that her mouth was full of piping hot eggs.
"Good. You'll need to clean out Pigwidgeon's cage and your cauldron… and bring your broom, too." At the mention of Ginny's broom, a pleased note came into her mother's voice.
In Ginny's sixth year, in the midst of the Second Wizarding War, Quidditch at Hogwarts had been cancelled. She hadn't ridden a broom since she had gone into hiding after Easter Break. Last month, when Ginny received her Hogwarts letter containing a list of supplies she would need, a silver badge slipped from between the pages of the missive. Her parents had been overjoyed at the news, and immediately owled their sons with the announcement that Ginny was the second Quidditch Captain in the family.
As a present for her birthday three weeks ago, George had given her the newly released Nimbus 2002, one of the best brooms on the market. It only pained Ginny slightly that she did not have a Firebolt like Harry did when he was Captain, because the Nimbus 2002 was a phenomenal broom.
When she rode it for the first time on her birthday while her parents and brothers were asleep, she was the happiest she had been in months. It was a beautiful broom: the Nimbus's chestnut handle shone even in the starless night. At the slightest tilt of her body, the Nimbus fluidly turned, allowing her to try daring new stunts she had never tried before on her old Cleansweep Seven. The rest of her summer break was spent flying, starting in the early morning and sometimes lasting until dinnertime.
Ginny finished her eggs, and left her parents in the kitchen to get ready. An hour later she was freshly showered and dressed like a Muggle in a pair of denim trousers and a green tee which created a lovely contrast with her fiery red locks.
She was sweeping out the droppings in Pigwidegeon's cage when an owl tapped on her window. Pig was flittering about the room, so she carefully opened the window and allowed the great horned owl in.
It settled on her arm, completely ignoring Pig, who was twittering wildly at the new guest, and turned its great yellow eyes on Ginny. She untied the letter it offered from its leg, and it hopped on top of Pig's carefully cleaned cage. Ginny unfolded the parchment, curious as to the writer, since she had never seen the bird before. She read:
Dear Ginny,
Sorry I haven't written in a while, I've been awful busy. As you know, both Ron and I are studying hard for our tests, especially since we need all the help we can get after skipping last year. We test in late October for acceptance into the official Auror program. Hopefully both of us will be accepted and then I can write to you more often instead of worrying about these tests.
I hope this gets to you in time, before you leave for Hogwarts. Archimedes (that's my new owl, do you like him? No owl's going to be as good as Hedwig, but he's still a superb flier) is really fast, so I'm certain you'll read this in time. I hear you're Quidditch Captain! That's really great, Ginny. You'll have to tell me all about your season. I think with you as Captain, Gryffindor will win the Quidditch Cup!
Anyways, I'd best make this short if it will get to you on time. Good luck at school, study hard. I'll write when I can. Owl if you need anything.
Harry
Ginny smiled, folding the letter and putting it in her pocket. She hadn't heard from Harry since her birthday party in early August, and her whole family had crowded around their youngest member, so she hadn't had much of a chance to talk to him.
She scribbled a quick answer that she would write once she was settled at Hogwarts, and Archimedes extended his leg for her to tie her reply on. He took off through the window, his wings spreading into the air. Ginny watched him go, a small ache in her chest as she missed the majestic sight of Hedwig.
Pig was still flitting about the room, but she managed to capture him. Once he was all settled inside, hooting reluctantly, she grabbed his cage in one hand and her trunk in the other. Her trunk had been charmed with a Portability Spell, but even so, it was rather unwieldy managing it down the stairs. She set her trunk and Pig's cage next to the large brick fireplace that was to be their transportation and glanced at the clock in the living room.
The Weasley clock was quite different from normal clocks, in the fact that it had numerous hands, one for each member of the Weasley family. Fred's hand had disappeared completely, leaving eight hands. Currently, Ginny's and her parents' hands were pointing towards 'Home'. Her brothers' were directed at 'Work'.
Her parents were nowhere to be seen, and Ginny decided she had enough time for one last flight around the Burrow before they left for King's Cross. She headed to the broom shed and grabbed her Nimbus. Its natural elegance and lightweight design still made her smile a little with delight, even after a month of flying.
She kicked off from the ground and flew two easy laps around the Burrow's orchard, letting the cool air erase any of her stress. Ginny's thoughts wandered from school to Harry and back.
She didn't know why, but she was dreading the thought of the train ride, Sorting ceremony, and the start of term. Maybe it was the notion that the only close friend she would have to confide in was Luna, who had been unusually distant over the summer months, or maybe it was the fact that she would be whispered about and watched, because she was so closely entangled in the events the previous May, in which Fred and Colin had been killed. Not to mention the fact that Ginny was romantically linked to Harry, who was an attraction all by himself.
As she completed a complicated set of twists and maneuvers, she sternly told herself that if Harry, Ron, and Hermione were able to ignore the gossips, she could as well. She owed it to Harry, if nothing else.
She felt a small pang in her chest at the unfortunate reality that he would not be at school this year, and they could only communicate through owl post. She wouldn't be able to study with him in the library or naughtily pull him behind a deserted statue for a snog before class. She wouldn't be able to entwine her hands in his thick black hair or gaze into his clever eyes, which were the perfect shade of green. No more early morning flights or late night conversations. He would become as distant and closed to her as Luna had. Ginny knew she could not survive on letters alone. It would be exactly like last year, except for that she wouldn't be living in constant fear for his life. The certainty that Harry was not going to die anytime soon only exacerbated her unhappiness. He was so near, and yet it seemed she could never quite reach him.
A feeling of anger suddenly came over her. Disgustedly, she turned her broom swiftly in the opposite direction. How could she, a Weasley, a Gryffindor, think such things? She had survived the Second Wizarding War and had fought in the Battle of the Department of Mysteries and the Battle of Hogwarts. She was brave and strong, like her friends and family before her and she would not let a silly thing like not being able to see her boyfriend for a few months make her miserable. She alighted on the ground and strode toward the paddock fence.
With this new attitude and a stubbornly determined gait, she returned to the house.
Her father was lounging in the living room next to her trunk, calmly reading the new issue of The Quibbler, (which had returned to its usual far-fetched and highly entertaining content after last year's brief stint into anti-Potter propaganda) and from the faint but frantic noises coming from upstairs, she guessed that her mother was rushing around in her room. Ginny pulled out her Broom Servicing Kit and painstakingly groomed all of the Nimbus's perfectly placed tail twigs back into position.
Her father, glancing up from the magazine, chuckled.
"Ginny, your tail was just fine when you started. There's no reason to brush them back into place if they're already there!"
Ginny rolled her eyes at the ceiling, letting out a sigh. "Dad, it needs to look perfect!"
"If you say so…" he answered jokingly, returning back to the Quibbler's article on the current infestation of Germanic Bowtruckles and the apparent mites that they carried over into Britain, causing the present outbreak of Scrofungulus.
Her mother clattered down the rickety stairs, holding a jar tightly in her hands.
Huffing and puffing, she reached the fireplace and held out the fresh container of Floo Powder.
"I found it!" she exclaimed. "Hiding up in the closet… don't know why it was there. Here, Ginny, grab your trunk and broom, Arthur'll take Pig, quick, hurry, we're going to be late!"
Ginny hauled her trunk and broom into the fireplace, took a large handful of the powder, and flung it into the grate, yelling, "The Leaky Cauldron!" The green flames immediately leapt up, and Ginny felt an unpleasant squeezing feeling in her stomach. She clenched her eyes shut, but her organs still lodged themselves in her throat.
In a few seconds, she had stopped manically spinning and was hurled out of the Leaky Cauldron's rather dusty fireplace along with her trunk and broom. She barely managed to keep a hold of her baggage and, with characteristic Weasley grace, narrowly missed crashing headlong into a group of elderly witches, who stepped back quickly, twittering with indignation.
Ginny mumbled an embarrassed, "Sorry," and dizzily headed for the bar to wait for her parents. She had Flooed many times in her life, yet she never managed to get used to the feeling.
Less than ten seconds later, her mother waltzed out of the hearth, steady and unruffled. Her father appeared, carrying Pig's cage, which was hooting resentfully, and they made their way to the bar. Ginny breezily declared that her trip was uneventful, editing out the awkward parts, and the three exited the pub with a cheery wave to Tom, who was furiously scrubbing a pair of murky glasses.
The street was quite active with Muggles, who were paying very little attention to anyone else. They did get a few glances at the miniature owl, but the Nimbus had previously been charmed with a Disillusionment Spell, so there were no suspicions aroused. Her father was looking around curiously, excitingly pointing out various modern marvels, like "cellyphones which had telly screens".
Ginny enjoyed the walk to King's Cross and observing the disorderly interactions. Several little children had to be pulled by their annoyed guardian out of the road after taking notice of Pig and standing transfixed. Ginny spotted an attractive Ravenclaw fifth year by the name of Diane walking with her father, and Andrew, a hefty Hufflepuff fourth year trudging behind his mother, all looking very odd in their Muggle apparel.
They reached the station with plenty of time to spare. Inside, Ginny fetched a trolley and nonchalantly strolled through the brick barrier, the entrance to Platform 9 and 3/4 and was greeted with the familiar sight of the Hogwarts Express, its vast scarlet body belching large amounts of smoke and occasionally emitting screeching whistles.
Ginny sighed pleasantly. It was nice to know that some things stayed the same, even after everything had changed.
Students and parents were milling around, hailing friends, searching for missing belongings, and calling their farewells. Hannah Abbott, a former Hufflepuff, gestured enthusiastically from across the platform where she was saying goodbye to her younger sister Nancy, a Hufflepuff third year.
Ginny nodded and smiled in answer to Michael Corner's polite greeting. He was escorting his little sister, Maria, a second year Ravenclaw. His handsome face was slightly marred by the twin slashes on either cheek, sinister reminders of the Carrows' reign of terror.
Dennis Creevey yelled eagerly from a compartment. He looked unchanged, even after his brother's death the previous May. However Ginny had known Colin intimately and Dennis was very much like his brother; he was obviously putting up a front. She would talk to him once school started. A loose owl soared close to her face, startling her out of her thoughts. She pushed through the mass and loaded her trunk, broom, and Pig's cage onto the train.
As she emerged to bid farewell to her parents, her mother hugged her tightly.
"Study hard. Behave. And write often," her mother commanded, releasing Ginny from her smothering embrace.
Mr. Weasley enveloped her in his arms.
"Yes, concentrate on your schoolwork and Quidditch. And we'll try to write too. Don't get too caught up with friends." Molly added an affirmative noise. His blue eyes twinkled mischievously, and he added in an undertone, "But it's all right if you get a little caught up. You're seventeen." Then a little louder, so his wife could hear, "Have a good term, dear. We'll see you at Christmas."
Ginny smiled lovingly and boarded the train with a slight pain in her heart. She spotted Luna in a Ravenclaw section but decided not to intrude.
She found an empty compartment in the back of the train and settled in the quiet window seat, pulling her legs up under her and resting her head against the cool glass. As the whistle shrilly announced their departure, Ginny gazed out of her lonely compartment's window, watching her parents on the platform. Amidst the horde, they looked like two fragile and bent figurines, her mother wiping tears from her eyes.
She stared at the blurring and shifting landscape out the window, only looking away to refuse the offer of food from the stout witch rolling the trolley, and against her will, eventually slid into a slumber.