Section 1: First Year
Chapter 1: OMG, he visited us!
'Ginny could you shut up about Harry for just one minute. I'm trying to eat my breakfast'
'But Ron! You're his friend; you know all about him! What toothpaste does he use? Does he snore? What does his hair look like in the morning? …'
'Ginny! Muuuuuuuum! Make Ginny stop talking about Harry! She's driving me mental!'
'Ginny, dear, I know it's exciting that Ron's his friend, but let him eat his breakfast, there's a good girl.'
Humph! Why couldn't they see that it was super important to know all the details about him? I'd overheard Mum telling Dad how very sorry she felt for him because he didn't seem very wanted at his relatives' house, and I could tell that they were going to try and get him to come visit. And that meant, of course, as anyone with a brain would realise, that I had to know all the details about him to be prepared. I rolled my eyes but shut up … for the time being. But I continued to quiz Ron constantly on everything to do with the marvellous Harry Potter. Everything he told me just made me more in love with the 'Boy Who Lived' … he was so sweet, so kind, so brave, so heroic. He was of course going to be my knight in shining armour: charging in to save the day. I wasn't sure what I was going to be saved from, but I knew it would be romantic and tie us together forever. It was fate, destiny … why couldn't anyone else see it? Yep, you guessed it: I was still Miss Dramatic. I'm not sure how anyone put up with me that summer.
The idea of knowing everything about the boy I'd dreamed about for so long was intoxicating. Poor Ron put up with it pretty well, but he was really really annoyed. I could tell, but in my zeal I just didn't care. I had a mission, and no-one, especially not the one person who really tied me to Harry Potter, was going to stand in my way. Of course the twins got their share of it too. They were on the quidditch team with him. Oh, how I loved the stories: how he caught his first snitch in his mouth, how he was the youngest seeker in a hundred years … Fred and George tolerated me better than Ron did, but by the end of the holidays even they were getting that glazed look when I walked in the room.
Mum and Dad spent the nights talking in concerned whispers. It seemed that none of Ron's letters or, apparently, their friend Hermione's either, were getting through to Harry Potter. They eventually decided that if Ron hadn't heard from Harry by Friday they were going to go and get him. However, 'Friday' was too far away for my brothers. Towards the end of the summer holiday I heard Fred, George and Ron plotting a 'great escape' from Surrey for my idol. Normally in these circumstances I'd use my position as youngest child and only girl for its ultimate purpose: telling on my brothers. But for this one time I made an exception. After all, this was something I wanted more than life itself: a chance to see Harry Potter in person. I knew how it would be. I was going to be scintillating, fascinating, and altogether charming. He would be blown away by my brilliance. I went to bed that night secure that when Harry arrived I would be ready to dazzle him. I had my outfit picked out, my words carefully rehearsed, my entrance planned. I was ready to wow.
I ran down the stairs next morning ready to have my breakfast quickly so I could hurry and put on the carefully chosen, best outfit I had so I could meet Harry Potter looking my most amazing. Deep in joyous thought I didn't notice the new voice in the kitchen as I ran in. Then I saw … him. He looked up, the green eyes glinted cheerfully, and my mouth gaped open. Mortified to be seen by him in my nightdress I let out a squeal of dismay and rushed back out of the room. Even in my panic and shame I could hear Ron behind me saying 'Ginny. My sister. She's been talking about you all summer.' I let out another sob and mentally kicked myself and cursed bloody Ron to the high heavens. He was so helping me look smooth in front of Harry … not. Maybe I had been a little hasty when I dismissed his glazed look so easily this holidays; he was sure taking the first chance to smash my hopes to the ground. I had never dreamed he would tell Harry how much I had talked about him. Grumbling mightily to myself about the utter unfairness of my life I retreated to my room, determined to make a better impression the next time I met Harry.
I heard voices coming up the stairs and even though I knew it was a silly idea … a really really silly idea, I still decided to take a peek. One little look at my hero wouldn't hurt, right? He wouldn't even notice I was sure of it, so I took my chance and stood the door a little ajar just to see him. As I opened the door Ron arrived on the landing and he was accompanied by none other than the most adorable person I had ever seen. I sighed and he must have either heard me or sensed someone there because he looked over and our eyes locked. Once again I lost myself in the green depths, but as he turned to Ron I quickly came to my senses and snapped the door shut.
Leaning on the door frame my heart was beating far too fast. This was weird … different from how I'd expected it to be. Instead of sweeping me off my feet he was real, solid in a way I hadn't expected. His eyes looking into mine weren't superhuman but what was there, the depths of pain and the glimmer of fun, was so astonishing that he had literally floored me. He was no 'hero' from a story but a real person and that real person was even more fascinating than the one I had made up in my head. Now I wasn't so sure that I would be able to be suave and interesting with him around. My hopes came thudding down to reality. Maybe … maybe if I could talk to him it would be good.
Sadly, my worries were proven to be true. Every time Harry was around (I'd stopped referring to him as 'Harry Potter,' finally realising that he was a person, not a name) I seemed to knock something over. Porridge bowls, butter dishes, all sorts of drinks vessels all went flying whenever he walked into a room. In vain did I curse my idiocy and try to talk to him like a person, but every time those eyes with their mix of pain and fun turned in my direction I became a bumbling fool. In short, I turned from being in love with a romantic hero from a story and became madly in love with the boy I knew. Ron thought it was hilarious and teased me mercilessly whenever we met. I knew I shouldn't have harped on Harry all summer like that. What the heck was I thinking? And now Ron was getting revenge the way only a Weasley can: teasing me about Harry in front of Harry. I was mortified on a daily basis and those last few days of the holidays were a torment for me.
The only relief in sight was the exciting day we were going to Diagon Alley for our school things. This was my first time to school, my first time getting my school books and so finally all thoughts of Harry were driven out of my head, well most thoughts of him anyway. Diagon Alley was all I talked about for days in advance, though never where Harry could hear me. Around him I suddenly became as quiet as a mouse. It still bugged me that I couldn't open my mouth around him, but it was a minor niggle in the excitement of going to Diagon Alley. And of course the day beforehand we heard a rumour that Gilderoy Lockhart was going to be there signing his books. Mum was all in a dither at the idea and her excitement rubbed off on me. It was just a rumour, but we could hope it was true.
Before that day I once again was confronted by Harry. This time I literally crashed into him outside my room. Yeah I was smooth. With the amount of clumsy things I did around that poor boy it's a wonder he survived being in our house at all.
'Oh … um … are you OK?' I stammered out, blushing madly while trying to avoid looking at him.
'Yeah, I'm fine. What about you? I think I crashed your elbow'
'Me? No … I … Ok.'
I ran madly to my room, slamming the door behind me and cursing myself over and over. How embarrassing, I couldn't even get out a whole comprehensible sentence! But he was so sweet. Did you see the way he was concerned about me? The way his eyes crinkled at the edges as he looked worried about my elbow? The drama queen in me revelled in the collision, but the pragmatist (yes I did have one, she just didn't come out much in those days) was horrified that I was such a klutz, and castigated me for my idiocy over Harry. Miss Pragmatic was sure I would do better if I could just talk to him, but Miss Dramatic liked the mystery. I think Miss Pragmatic had the better idea but she was shouted down by the drama queen and I kept on knocking stuff over around him and remained unable to talk with him around.
