Disclaimer: Oops, I forgot to do this for the first chapter… Anyways, no, I do not own Harry Potter, nor castles, though I do have some driftwood…
Thank you to everyone who reviewed/favored! They make me feel so great about writing. Also, these chapters have not been beta'ed, so please review and point out any mistakes I have missed.
Harry James Potter, 15-year-old student and back room worker at "Dursley's Driftwood Emporium" was not having a very good day. It had all started this morning, when Petunia, Harry's aunt, had knocked on his door and demanded that he start breakfast. Upon looking in the mirror as he brushed his teeth, Harry had discovered an alarming fact about his person; his hair had been turned blue.
Not that any of the Dursleys could have done it on their own, of course. True magic wielders, like Harry, were not born very often, maybe ten or so a year. Otherwise, when magic did appear, it was usually a very faint ability, like being able to make fruit stay fresh longer or something of the sort. The only time magic was counted on to appear was when it was confined with in a family. Those families blessed with magic were usually nobility, or in the very least enormously wealthy. For instance, heirs to the throne were nearly always magical. There was no other way for them to keep their position.
Because of this, magical jokes were usually rather rare. That is, unless there were two royals who had an insane obsession with them. Fred and George Weasley, the Twins of Trouble, as "The Daily Prophet" once nicknamed them after they had magicked the whole of Hogsmeade pink, had caused the scandal of the year when they had decided to leave Hogwarts immediately after their 17th birthday, and open a joke shop in town. After its opening two years prior, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes' magical pranks had slowly become a part of everyday life. It was no longer uncommon to hear odd booms and turn to see canaries chasing friends, or children mysteriously getting fevers on test days.
Nor was it unusual to wake up and find one's hair, or any other part of the body, multicolored. Unfortunately for Harry, the Dursley's were not nearly as understanding as most citizens of Hogsmeade were. It was no matter that Dudley Dursley had probably been the one to pull this prank (Harry was, in fact, quite impressed. Harry had not thought Dudley the brain capacity to sneak up on him). Harry would be blamed, and punished, probably with extra chores or some other mindlessly annoying job.
Harry had been quite right. After being yelled at by his aunt for 20 minutes about his "no-good-attitude" and his "blatant disregard of others people's feelings" by having the gale to attempt to perform a prank which had "obviously backfired", Harry was left with 10 minutes to run the three mile trail to the castle. The reason his school was at the castle was very simple in principal, and extremely complicated in practice. Harry could do magic. He didn't know how he had gotten this ability, and he didn't know how the school of magic Hogwarts hosted had found out, but on Harry's 11th birthday, a thick envelope that changed Harry's life arrived in the hand of a very large man named Hagrid. Hagrid had explained about the school rooms located a in a secluded area of the castle grounds, and about how every magical student was needed for training, seeing as there were so few of them.
Of course, Harry's aunt and uncle had not been happy. In fact, they had been furious. However, after a few carefully chosen words from the court wizard/ Headmaster, Dumbledore, they had had to concede. Harry had actually been surprised they argued at all. Nine months with Harry gone, and the bill mysteriously being taken care of, his relatives should have jumped at the chance! Instead, Aunt Petunia had insisted on Harry just being a day student, instead of taking board in the castle with the rest of the students. He can walk, she insisted.
Harry had made it through the gates 30 seconds after the bell which, had this happened on the field, would have gotten him a new record. However, being that this was before school, it was not nearly good enough, and Harry was awarded another lecture, this time about how punctuality was a virtue, and how tardiness was the mark of the devil.
From there, the day spiraled downward. He discovered that, in his haste, Harry had left both his Potions and Defense notebooks at home. This rewarded Harry with a detention from his Potions teacher and a bonus assignment from his Defense teacher. Then, the coach of his Quidditch team, told him that there would be no practice that day, because their captain had gotten caught in a cauldron explosion resulting in her skin, eyes, hair, and tongue changing color (Harry felt quite bad for Katie, but Quidditch was the only bright spot in his day, and to lose it put him in a very bad mood).
In fact, the only good thing that happened at school was that his best friend Hermione was able to lift the hair charm. Hermione too was a witch from a non-magical family. Her parents were dentists. However, this did not stop her from being one of the top magic students in the country. She was so smart, in fact, that recently Dumbledore had had to move her into classes with royalty, who had been trained from birth, from the normal classes, which were quite a bit behind. This meant, of course, that Harry didn't get to see her as much, and while he was extremely please for her success, he was a bit put out about it. The fact that today, of all days, was Harry's first day primarily without Hermione did nothing to brighten his mood.
"So, are your classes over for the day?" asked Harry. He hoped Hermione still ended her day at the same time as he did.
"Well, actually, I, well, I agreed to help my study partner. Ron didn't understand something from one of my classes," said Hermione apologetically. "He was really sweet about it, and he really needs help and—"
"Hold on," interrupted Harry. "Did you just say Ron? As in Ronald? As in Prince Ronald? That's who you've been meeting up with all summer?" Hermione's blush said everything. "Oh," said Harry rather blankly. He muttered good bye and took off in the opposite direction.
He knew that he was being silly, and that just because they weren't in the same class didn't mean they couldn't be friends, but Harry felt as though this was but another wall that had sprung up between the two of them lately. Hermione had been his best friend, his sister, since they had been 11. He didn't want to lose her.
Harry had almost made it past the gates when Professor Termaine caught him.
"Mr. Potter," said the Potions teacher sternly. "Did you forget the detention you have today?"
Harry groaned. He had forgotten. The professor frowned.
"Come with me, Mr. Potter."
###
Harry left that day trying to rub the circulation back into his fingers. Professor Termaine had made him clean out the used potions bin; in other words, Harry had spent the last two hours picking frog guts out of gutters and washing slime off of shards of glass left from broken potions bottles.
Harry was not feeling very cheerful. He took a malicious sort of pleasure walking home. He took nearly twice as long getting home as he usually did, just to annoy the Dursley's. It was not like they could, or would do anything, he thought viciously. Besides needing Harry's help too much, the fact that he could do magic placed him into a position of fear in their lives.
When the hour had finally grown so old that Harry could not excuse his absence any longer, he wearily began to trudge home. The long walk had washed away all of his anger, and all that was left was a resigned sense of fatigue. He knew that he would probably be in for a long and boring lecture from Vernon, and he was really not in the mood.
The streets of Hogsmeade were still alive and bustling when Harry arrived. The fairy light adorning the shops, and the floating candles that were just beginning to be lit gave the street a magical feeling, though the mad masses of people helped dispel that notion, thought Harry rather bitterly, as a well dressed man crashed in to him, knocking Harry's books to the floor. The man sent a sneer Harry's way, his "watch where you're going" drowning out Harry's polite "excuse me". Harry sighed. Bending down to gather his books back up, a small, dainty foot landed on one. Harry resignedly looked up to address the person. The minute he saw her face, he forgot what he was going to say.
Looking straight ahead, not even noticing him, was a goddess. Her silhouette was shadowed, outlined by the setting sun's colored rays, her fiery hair like fire and silk, intricately dancing around each other. Her eye's, much, much too large to be real, were the lightest chocolate, the sparkle held within them both kind and amused.
She seemed to be thinking rather hard about something, noted Harry. Her lips curved in the slightest of frowns, and she had a lock of that glorious hair between her thumb and fore finger, rolling back and forth, back and forth.
"Excuse me," said Harry yet again. His voice seemed to come from a very distant place. The goddess girl looked down. "I, ah, I think you're standing on one of my books."
She sent a bright, apologetic smile his way, nearly leaving Harry blind, and then she bent down to help him pick them up. Harry felt shivers run across his spine when their hands meet.
"Hi," she said, gathering the last of his belongings. "I'm Ginny. What's you're name?"
Her voice was just as beautiful as he had imagined.
"Oh, I'm Harry," said Harry, a shy smile of his own creeping onto his face. "Thanks," he added, reaching down to help Ginny up. She allowed him to help her to her feet, giving Harry's hand a little squeeze before intertwining her fingers through his. Harry could feel a traitorous blush spread across his face.
"I thought I knew all of the kids in Hogsmeade. Are you new?"
"Oh, no, I've lived here my whole life. I work at the Dursley's Driftwood Emporium," Harry said, waving behind him and biting his bottom lip. Stop babbling! He thought to himself furiously.
"Potter!" roared a painfully familiar voice.
Oh, Merlin, thought Harry. Not him! Please not him! Not now!
Harry's prayers were ignored, and Uncle Vernon sent Harry inside. He listened at the door, mortified, as his uncle prattled on about his two favorite subjects; sales, and what a bad influence Harry was on everyone around him. Harry closed his eyes, even though he knew no one could see him. What a prat Ginny must think him! He could already hear her melodious voice go cold, and could just imagine those bright eyes shimmering. Harry cringed, hoping Ginny wouldn't think too badly after his uncle was through.
Harry's heart gave an odd sort of leap as he heard Ginny defend him. He nearly cheered when she effectively shut his uncle down, mid-sales pitch. She had one of the most authoritative voices Harry had ever heard! He knew there would be hell to pay later, but for now it was completely worth it.
Harry was completely right. After Ginny had marched away, Vernon had stomped in, sending his customary glare Harry's way. Harry thought Uncle Vernon was very lucky there weren't any potential buyers in at that moment. They would have scuttled away from a glare a fourth the intensity. As it was, Harry was quite glad to duck down under the counter.
"So, boy, what's your excuse this time?" growled Uncle Vernon. "You're hours late! Did you stop to talk to every girl on you're way home? Are you really that desperate?"
Harry said nothing. These rants of his uncles' were very common, and they all seemed to be centered on topics Harry would never want to discuses with Hermione, much less Uncle Vernon. Harry had never seen his uncle last more than a few minutes, but they were rather uncomfortable minutes.
"Here," grumble Vernon after he had finally wound down, holding out a piece of paper filled with writing. "These are your chores."
As Vernon stalked off, muttering something about needing a strong brandy, Harry stared at the 14 item list in dismay. He had mere hours to complete his chores, or else he would most likely not be getting dinner. Harry sighed for what seemed like the millionth time that day. He knew he should have stayed in bed this morning.
