Story that influenced/inspired this chapter:
"A Summer Friend" by greywolf (Mugglnet)
Chapter Ten: Becoming the Chosen One
Though the truth was harder to swallow than a stray dungbomb, the Ministry was forced to open their eyes and acknowledge that certain events, the Azkaban breakout, Bertha Jorkin's disappearance, and Cedric Diggory's death to name a few, had been the direct result of Voldemort's return.
And most significantly, Harry "I-Shall-Not-Tell-Lies" Potter had been apparently telling the truth all along.
It didn't take a Seer to understand what our battle at the Ministry meant. If the prophecy was so important that Voldemort risked exposure to acquire it, then it obviously foretold something of immense proportions. The Daily Prophet caught on as well and deemed the Boy-Who-Lived as the Chosen One.
Although I couldn't be sure what was true and what was fabricated, I was convinced it had to be something like that. If anyone knew the reality of the situation, it would be Dumbledore, and I was positive the Headmaster would tell Harry straightaway, especially in light of current events.
Voldemort was unusually quiet during Harry's sixth year. It was apparent when looking back that he refused to act until Dumbledore, the only one he ever feared, was out of the picture. That might have been the biggest mistake Voldemort made. With the hesitation, he allowed Dumbledore to pass vital information to Harry that he needed for victory. It also allowed Harry the opportunity to finally find someone, namely me, that he could love and cherish and be happy with, and when the time came, provide him with something worth fighting for and the hope of a happy life when it was all over.
I couldn't tell you the exact moment that Harry fell for me, but he'd gladly say that he always loved me. Could it have been when he invited me to Hogsmeade in October? Or before that when he wanted to sit with me on the train? Or it might have even been during the summer when we spent every day together? Whenever the moment Harry fell, his love for me slowly crept up upon him, jumping out from nowhere, and surprising even him, I'm sure.
I don't regret being with Michael. He taught me a lot when it came to relationships and I wouldn't trade my time with him. I don't regret being with Dean. He was a wonderful boy, but by the time we broke up, I realized how much I liked being his friend rather than his girlfriend. Neither of them were mistakes, just learning experiences preparing me for who I was destined to be with.
Love, the power that the Dark Lord knew not, was in oversupply after Voldemort returned. Mum said it was just like last time, couples running off in droves to get married, my parents included. The first in our family to follow the trend was my eldest brother Bill.
Bill came home to the Burrow a week after school ended with the Beauxbatons champion Fleur Delacour. He explained that they had been spending a lot of time together and he had been giving her private "Eenglish" lessons. Seeing her standing there in my kitchen with her unnatural beauty, I thought, Private English lessons, my arse.
I was not the only one in my family curious as to why, as a tutor, he brought his student home to meet his family. After a few moments, Bill finally answered all our questions and announced that they would be getting married next summer.
"Oh, you are going to be my leetle seester!" Fleur exclaimed, rushing towards me. In a swift embrace, she scooped me up in her French arms. "You and Gabrielle are going to get along zo well! You must bee about ze zame age."
When she set me down, I smoothed the wrinkles from my shirt. "How old is Gabrielle?"
"She iz ten."
"I'm almost fifteen," I replied, annoyed. I took a quick glance at my body. Did I really look like I was five years younger than I was? Nope, certain feminine attributes still intact. With a strand of hair in my hand, I looked towards Fleur and gave her a disgruntled look.
She didn't catch on. "You are zo beautiful, Geeny!"
Already not liking her, I said, "It's pronounced Ginny." When Mum shot me an angry look, I ignored her. "How do you pronounce your name again?" I asked in my sarcastic expertise. "Floor? Flour? Phlegm?"
But Fleur did not notice that I was making fun of her. She spent the next ten minutes helping me pronounce her name and I entertained myself by coming back to the pronunciation phlegm. Even Mum tried not to be amused.
When Fleur distracted Mum, I quickly escaped the company of my future sister-in-law, leaving a smitten Ron at the table. I slipped outside, wishing that Fred and George had not moved out earlier that year, although I was proud that their joke shop was flourishing.
I found Dad and Bill talking in the garden. Coming around the corner of the house, I stopped out of sight to listen in.
"Are you sure about this, Bill? How long have really known each other?" Dad asked.
"Longer, I think, than you and mother dated before you got married," Bill said, amusement in his voice.
Dad was silent. After a few seconds, he answered, "That was a different time. Your mother and I were meant to be."
Bill laughed. "Different times? You and I are living in the same world two decades apart," Bill said. "I love Fleur very much."
More silence. When I decided to reveal myself, I turned the corner and saw Dad and Bill hug and shake each other's hand. "Then you have my blessing," Dad said. He clapped my brother on the back and left the garden they were walking through.
Bill smiled when he saw me and when I came closer, he scooped me up in his arms and embraced me. I liked this much more than when Fleur had done the same. Bill's arms felt safe and familiar. He smelt like the familiar woody aroma of the Burrow, despite not having lived there for years.
"It's good to have you home," I said as he set me back down on he ground. "How long are you staying?"
"I'm only here until tomorrow," Bill answered. I assumed Fleur was leaving with him but he dashed my dreams. "Fleur will be coming back later this month for a proper visit."
I silently cringed. "Really?" I tried to sound excited.
"She has to get to know her new family," Bill replied. He went into a long story explaining how they had caught each other's eye during the Triwizard Tournament and then how they worked together at Gringotts. He began talking about how amazing she was and I couldn't help but notice how much he loved talking about her.
"You really love her, don't you?" I asked.
"Very much," he answered. "You know, we want you to be in the wedding."
"I better not be the flower girl," I retorted. I could take Fleur mistaking my age but I refused to hold a child's position during the wedding.
"You would look adorable spreading the rose petals," Bill teased.
I tried my hardest to give Fleur a chance during her stay with us. I held my tongue when she bought me dolls. I didn't say anything when she talked to me like I was five. By the time Hermione arrived, I was desperate for a getaway. When she came through our door, I practically flattened her with glee.
Dragging her to my room, I threw her on the bed and forced to her to listen to my transgressions involving the soon-to-be newest member of my family. She grinned at me and remarked, "Can she really be that bad?"
"You have no idea!" I shouted. If I was going to recruit her for my cause, I needed something drastic. "You should see the way Ron gushes over her."
She scowled and I knew she was on my side.
"Speaking of Ron," I said, not very eager to talk any more of the horrid phlegm that was living in my house. "When can I start picking out my bridesmaid dress for your wedding?"
She blushed slightly. "Ron and I…" she started. "We… oh… I don't know!" She crossed her arms in front of her chest. "I'm certainly not going to make the first move."
"And you shouldn't," I agreed, "but you've been researching the problem for how long now? Isn't it obvious how much you care for each other?"
"Who cares for who?" Ron had just entered the room, munching on an apple. He stood there in the doorway, utterly oblivious to the fact that we had just been discussing him.
Hermione looked at me for a cover-up. "Me and Dean," I quickly said. "We were talking about how I care about Dean."
Ron swallowed the bit of apple that he was chewing. "When I told you choose someone better, I wasn't referring to Dean Thomas."
"And what's wrong with Dean?" I asked huffily.
"Nuffin," he said with apple in his mouth. When he swallowed, he continued, "He's a nice bloke, but I don't think I can allow you…"
"Allow me?" I hissed. "Ronald Weasley, you are in no position to allow me to do anything." I stepped closer to him, my brown eyes boring holes through him.
"I…" Ron said, backing up. "I just think you need someone better…"
"And who exactly does my genius of a brother have in mind?" I hollered at him, thinking back to the train ride home when he has instructed me to choose someone better. He had looked at Harry when he said this. I had been curious about that look for weeks now.
"Just…" Ron said, not knowing if he should continue or change the subject. "I… think Harry and… well… you've fancied him… and…"
"Ron," I said flatly, "I'm over Harry."
"You shouldn't give up so soon," he said, more confident that I had regained my composure. "He's noticing you a lot more lately. I think you're perfect for each other, just he doesn't know it yet."
"Ha ha." I grinned at him, to Hermione, and then back at him. I couldn't help myself when I said, "Reminds me of someone else I know."
Ron, looking quite confused, was about to respond when Hermione, looking quite embarrassed, spoke up at last and guided the conversation in a new direction. "So Harry will be here tomorrow then?"
Ron's face lit up. "Blimey, I almost forgot. He's off with Dumbledore, isn't he?"
"Do you think he's telling him about the prophecy?" I asked Hermione quietly, dreading the answer. Ron and I had already discussed our theories on the whole ordeal and we were both interested in what Hermione had to say.
Hermione looked just as worried as I did and I wondered if she already knew exactly what the prophecy foretold. "After everything Lucius said about the prophecy…" she said slowly. "And Voldemort wanting to hear it so badly…" She sighed heavily. "It has to say something about his defeat…"
"The Daily Prophet's been saying Harry is the Chosen One," Ron informed Hermione. She nodded and confirmed that she had been reading it daily. "The one who can defeat You-Know-Who."
We sat in silence for the next few minutes before Mum called us down for dinner. Walking together, the same thing was running through each of our minds. Dinner that night for the three of us felt like a last meal we'd ever have, for food would never taste quite the same if we learned that Harry really was the Chosen One.
Harry arrived an hour after midnight. After eating breakfast, Mum informed us that Harry was sleeping in the twins' old bedroom. Ron and Hermione rushed out of the kitchen and up the stairs. I stayed one second too late to finish my juice. Mum asked me to stay with her while she prepared Harry's breakfast and then I could take it up.
"We can both take eet up to 'im, I theenk," Fleur said, seemingly excited to see the boy that had beaten her a year ago. "Would that be fun, Geeny?"
Dear Merlin, I thought, it's pronounced Ginny! And I'm not bloody four years old!
"Ginny can manage on her own," Mum said sweetly.
Fleur began to fix up the tray and Mum turned her attention to her. I quickly slipped out before anyone noticed I was gone. I cringed as I heard Mum telling her not to cook the eggs that way. I hurried up the stairs, hoping I had not missed anything of importance.
My bliss without Fleur was short-lived. I had barely been in the room when Fleur entered and delivered Harry's breakfast to him. Her entrance was swift and her exit was desired. When Mum finally left, the four of us were finally able to converse.
When Mum called me down to help her in the kitchen, I swore under my breath. She only wanted someone else so she wouldn't have to be alone with Fleur. I wanted to be with the Trio and learn more of what Harry had been up to in the last couple of weeks.
When I left the spare room, I didn't go down to the kitchen immediately. Though Hermione was the only part of the Trio who saw fit to pass me information, I knew that they still had that nasty habit of keeping me in the dark despite how I had proved myself worthy time and time again. I figured they would take the opportunity of being alone to discuss certain things. And if they weren't going to provide me with the information, I would have to do what I did best.
The first thing I heard was "What's this?" coming from Hermione. I smiled coyly to myself and thought of the telescope I had borrowed from the twins. I had strategically placed the joke item in there. I figured Harry could use the laugh after such a devastating loss. Although I had expected Ron to be the curious one instead of Hermione, I braced myself for the impact of the tiny fist.
Instead, they discussed the joke shop and Percy. After a few moments, I figured that they weren't going to talk about it, but then Harry mentioned about his future private lessons with Dumbledore and my interest was revived.
I listened intently; they had reached the subject of the prophecy. My heart raced. A bead of sweat fell from my forehead. I dared not breathe because I swore they would hear me.
"The Prophet got it right," Harry said, and my heart sank. I slowly slid down the wall, making only the slightest sound. "It looks like I'm the one who's got to finish off Voldemort… at least, it said neither of us could live while the other survives."
There it was. Harry's destiny laid out flatly inside my house, the words lingering quietly on the rafters, and drifting through my mind like I had been told someone had died. It was true. Harry really was the Chosen One. In the end, it was going to be either Voldemort or Harry, and not both…
"It's about time," Mum said to me as I finally entered the kitchen. "I was about to call for you again…." She turned to me and gasped, dropping the jug of water she had been carrying. "What's wrong, Ginny?"
If I looked like I felt, I'm sure I would have been worried, too. I touched my cheeks with the palm of my hand and felt how cold and clammy it was. Looking back at Mum, I remarked, "Nothing."
"I theenk she just needs zome good food," Fleur said, magically chopping up vegetables. Most of the pieces were flying over the floor instead of staying on the table.
"I told you I'd get that!" Mum said as nice as she possibly could, but it was difficult to hide her annoyance. She sighed heavily and with a flick of her wand, the water she had spilled was cleaned up and the vegetable pieces were back on the counter.
I was grateful for the distraction. I did not feel like making something up to disguise why I was sick to my stomach. I ran the words through my head again: Neither of us can live while the other survives.
Hermione came rushing into the kitchen asking about any Owls. I forgot my dread for the time being when I saw her face. Her eye was black; she had fallen for the bait. I couldn't suppress a giggle.
"You're laughing, too?" Hermione asked. I sincerely hoped that Harry had gotten a kick out the telescope. He needed the good-natured pranks more now than ever.
Mum quickly found her copy of The Healer's Helpmate and tried to remove the bruising but to no avail. When Harry entered the kitchen with his breakfast tray, I saw the amusement on his face and I knew that I had succeeded, if only a little bit.
"It'll be Fred and George's idea of a funny joke, making sure it can't come off," I said casually, playing the innocent party. I caught another smirk coming from Harry's direction. Ginny, you are on a roll today.
And I continued to be on a roll the rest of summer break. I made it my personal goal to cause Harry to smile at least three times a day. To be honest, I had a special talent for making him grin. Some days I would lose count of the amount of chuckles I was able to conjure from the Chosen One.
Ron and I had been taking on the team of Hermione and Harry usually every night of the week out at our Quidditch pitch. Hermione should stick to the books, honestly, she's dreadful on a broom. Without the pressure of a real game, Ron actually looked impressive. Of course, Harry, as the newly-named captain of the Gryffindor team, tried his best not to leave us in the dust.
Since there were only four of us playing, we used only the Quaffle and for the most part, we were evenly matched. I don't want to say that I rivaled Harry's ability but I certainly gave him a run for his gold.
After a long couple hours one August night, our teams had come to a stalemate. Every time Harry would score, I would come back and score, too. I would fly little circles around him, letting him know that I had his number.
Ron dismounted his broom after the third hour and maybe the thousandth time that we were tied. "I call it quits," he said. "Besides there's some cake inside that Mum made and I think I hear it calling me."
Hermione carefully dismounted her broom, too. She looked tired and worn out. She hobbled next to Ron and said, "For once, he's right. I'm exhausted."
Harry and I remained on our brooms and floated towards the ground in disappointment. It had been the first time since we started our games that I was evenly matched with Harry and I think he enjoyed the challenge. I couldn't be sure if he was having an off night or I was improving.
"We haven't won yet, Ron," I said, casting a challenging look towards Harry. "I think I need another five minutes to out fly the Captain."
Harry grinned and my tally was up to fifteen today. "Yeah, c'mon, Ron," he said. "How about it?"
Ron remained steadfast and held his stomach. "I'm tuckered out," he said and then he pointed towards the box with the rest of the balls. "But there's an easy way to settle this."
I gave Ron an approving look. "The Snitch Run!" I said, excitedly.
Hermione repeated what I said curiously. "What is that?"
"Charlie and Bill used to settle arguments this way," Ron replied. He opened the box, placed the Quaffle in its appropriate place, and lifted the Snitch from its container. "Whoever catches the Snitch wins."
"Winner takes all!" I said eagerly. I had never been allowed to play Quidditch with my older brothers, especially the twins and Ron, since they didn't think I even knew how to mount a broom. "How about it, Harry?"
Harry nodded and looked just as excited as I did. Turning to me, he said, "I'll do it."
"But you have to get rid of your Firebolt," I complained. "If you stay on that thing, I might as well just hand you the Snitch."
Harry floated to the ground and exchanged his broom for Ron's. As he returned to the air, he said, "I remember being on Ron's broom yesterday and still beating you."
"I'll have you know that the sun was in my eyes!" I said, pointing a finger at him in mock anger.
Ron motioned for us to come down beside him. I landed to Ron's left and Harry on his right. Ron held the Snitch up in his hand and said, "First one to capture the Snitch for their team wins tonight's game. I will count to three and release the Snitch. There will be no hitting, punching, biting, hair pulling, pushing, snogging-"
"RON!" I shrieked.
He grinned coyly. "Right," he said, clearing his throat. "… one… two… THREE!" He let go of the golden ball and the little thing rocketed upwards.
Harry and I were immediately into the air and following the glint of gold. Neither one of us had the advantage so side by side we raced. I laughed aloud and stole a glance at Harry. He looked so free with the wind in his face, his hair sticking straight out, and a look of determination in his eyes. You're not beating me today, Harry!
He glanced to his left at me and we locked eyes for several seconds. With the wind billowing in my hair, I felt a certain sensation wash over me that I had grown so familiar with. Without a moment's hesitation, Harry said, "It's mine!" He cut me off and sped towards the left.
I swore. I should have been watching for the ball, not making eyes at someone who wasn't my boyfriend, even if he was Harry. I thought Harry was looking at me when in reality, he must have been following the Snitch's path. I mentally smacked myself.
Recovering from the mistake, I followed Harry as fast as I could. Ahead the Snitch glistened in the setting sun. I was too slow to catch up and Harry's hand was outstretched, his grasp only inches away.
The interesting thing about the Weasley Quidditch set is that it's rather old. I don't think we've had a new one since before Charlie was born so you can imagine how the magic has worn over the years. The Quaffle sometimes doesn't have the sticking power it should. The Bludgers don't fly as far as they used to. And the Golden Snitch? It tends to make an unexpected left turn when being chased.
I flew left. Just as Harry's hand was about to close, the Snitch followed me, right into my waiting palm. I heard Ron cheer in triumph below and I flew towards the ground, Snitch held high and beaming.
Harry landed beside me. "Sneaky little trick," he muttered, but he was obviously amused. "You knew it was going to do that, didn't you?"
"Maybe," I said throwing my hair around my shoulders. "You have to be prepared for anything… defective Snitches, even your occasional bewitched, Harry-seeking Bludgers…"
He nodded, remembering how Dobby had sabotaged one of his second year Quidditch games. "Don't forget dark wizards trying to throw you off your brooms…"
"Or dementors," I added.
"You're trying out for the team, aren't you?" he asked hopefully. "I could definitely use you as a Chaser."
"I was thinking of trying out for Seeker," I teased.
Harry's eyes twinkled as he enjoyed our playful banter. From the looks of it, he thoroughly enjoyed taking and receiving the mickey. It appeared to be a new discovery for him since his female interaction was limited. There was Hermione, but I doubt he viewed her as anything other than a sister. There was Cho, but she barely was happy enough to make a joke around. There was me, and I seemed to be doing a wonderful job keeping the boy on his toes.
"What do you think, Ron?" he asked my brother, but when we turned to address him, both Ron and Hermione were gone. He frowned and wondered aloud, "Where did they run off to?"
We had been so immersed in each other's company that neither of us had noticed the disappearance of our best friends. For the first time, I realized how much Harry seemed to enjoy himself with me, and for the first time all summer, a thought entered the back of my mind, maybe Dean was a mistake…
Taking my free hand, I stuck it into the messed up tangle of Harry's hair and ruffled his locks. "Come on, Captain. Let's put the brooms away and go inside."
The crowds at Diagon Alley were scarce this year and understandably so. The news of Voldemort's return had spread quickly. Florean Forescue's ice cream shop had been deserted and Ollivander, the best wand maker in England, had disappeared. The only place that seemed to have any kind of hope that day was my brothers' joke shop.
Sitting on my bed hours later with my new Pygmy Puff, I contemplated the events of our visit. The twins had given me an unusually hard time concerning my dating life, but that wasn't what was on my mind. While discussing my current and past boyfriends, I noticed Harry was unusually attentive for something so insignificant to him.
"What're you thinking about?" Hermione said, entering our room and noticing my inner turmoil. She set herself on the bed with a new book she had purchased earlier that day.
"Nothing," I answered, not really knowing how to explain what I was feeling.
Hermione studied my face for a second before saying anything else. "What's that?" she said, pointing to the paper I had been holding in my hands.
I looked at it despite knowing exactly what it was. "A letter from Dean," I answered. "He wants to sit with me on the train." I folded the letter up and placed it into the drawer beside my bed. "He said he really misses me."
"Do you miss him?"
"Of course I miss him," I answered. I wasn't lying, but I felt ashamed that I didn't miss him as I knew that I should be. I wanted to see him as a friend would want to see another friend, not as a girlfriend would want to see her boyfriend.
"You and Harry seem to be getting along quite well this summer," Hermione said innocently. So she hadn't been too caught up in her "relationship" with Ron to notice that Harry had been treating me far different than he had before.
Although I was delighted to experience the change in this attitude towards me, I was not ready to admit that it meant anything more than a friendly adjustment in our relations. Besides, just because he enjoyed spending time with me and listened in when I spoke of Michael and Dean was not reason enough to think he had fallen head over heals in love with me. I was not arrogant.
Hermione and I had spent too much time talking about the subject and I was convinced that recent events did not warrant further discussion. I opted to guide the conversation differently.
"Speaking of Harry," I said, "where did you three run off to while Mum was buying me Arnold." The purple puff hopped up and down behind me on the bed, seemingly aware that I had just spoken its name.
"Harry suspects Malfoy is up to something," Hermione answered. "We followed him to Borgin and Burkes. It was suspicious, of course, but I don't think we have to worry."
"Harry is usually pretty perceptive of these things," I replied.
"No, he's not," Hermione said. She listed off all the innocent people Harry had suspected during their five years at Hogwarts. "He thought Snape was trying to steal the Sorcerer's Stone, he thought Karkaroff might be trying to kill him, he thought Umbridge was a Death Eater, and even suspected Malfoy to be the Heir of Slytherin…"
"I get it," I cut her off, trying to find a way to save Harry's suspicions. "Maybe V-Voldemort…" I had been trying to use the name since we escape unscathed from the Ministry. "…is pissed that Lucius failed and is passing the torch to Draco."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh God, you sound just like Harry."
"But wouldn't it make sense?" I asked. "Voldemort really wanted to hear that prophecy." I eyed her up, looking to see her reaction. "It did smash before Harry heard it, right?"
Hermione once again studied my face and shook her head. "You know, don't you?"
I nodded and the mood changed in the room. I had not thought about the depressing fate that Harry was forced to face. I had stored the news in the back of my mind and distracted myself with the events of the summer, thinking that if I could keep him here, maybe it wouldn't be true.
"I'm scared," I whispered.
"Me, too," she replied.
I wiped the growing water from the corners of my eyes. Hermione looked as if she was about to cry, too. I placed my arms around her and let her cry into my shoulder as I refused to allow myself to let more tears shed over the matter.
Though the nightmares were pleasantly absent from my sleep schedule for two months, they invited themselves back into my mind on the last night before Hogwarts began. It was a vicious dream and I awoke in my usual cold sweat.
Hermione stirred, but did not wake. Her slumber must have been deep since she usually was fine-tuned to my nightmare patterns. Unlike Delia, Hermione never grew accustomed to my problem and never failed to be by my side except for his particular night, and that's because fate might have been playing a hand tonight.
Light filtered in through the window, signaling the approaching dawn. Returning to my dreams never seemed enticing after horrid nighttime images and since we would be leaving in a few short hours, I didn't fancy myself trying to go back to sleep.
As I've done so many times before, I shoved the covers off my body. I managed to find a pair of slippers beneath my bed, but they weren't the ones I normally wore. I pulled a robe over my pyjamas and tiptoed out of the room, careful not to disturb Hermione or anyone else that was still asleep in the house. I quietly took each step to the lower floors, through the kitchen, and out the door to the back porch.
Just as I have a Hogwarts place to sort out my emotions, I have one at home as well. On the back porch, there's a swing that overlooks the valley. When the sun rises over the hill and hits our house, it's picture perfect. Being alone there soothes my troubled mind.
Except I wasn't alone. Exiting the back door, I stopped. There I was standing in my housecoat, hair mostly disheveled, and wearing pony slippers. There, sitting upon the swing, was Harry, staring at my slippers and grinning.
Well, I thought, there's number one for the day.
He motioned for me to have a seat next to him. Studying his face, his cheeks were damp and his eyes were red. He was quiet when I sat down. The only noise was the creak of the swing as it swayed beneath my added weight.
"Why are you up so early?" he asked softly, breaking our silence and quieting the chirping crickets.
"Couldn't sleep," I muttered. I stared into the horizon, watching more of the sun reveal itself. The sky was dancing with vivid colors of red and orange. It was beautiful and I might have appreciated it more if I hadn't just escaped a nightly terror. I saved him the trouble of asking my reasons for lack of rest and said, "Nightmare."
"I know what that's like," he said. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"Not much to tell you that you don't already know," I said, looking at him now. "You've already saved me from it once."
"You dream about the Chamber still?" he asked innocently.
"All the time," I said. I relaxed in Harry's presence, noting that we had never spoken to each other about the events of my first year. What a shame that it took me so long to be sitting here with him and talking to him like this.
Continuing, I said, "When Riddle comes to me at night, I feel so… so violated." I shuddered when I thought that I had not even talked to Hermione like this. Sighing, I asked Harry, "Why did you come after me?"
Harry's eyebrows moved slightly in a curious way. "I just did what anyone would have done."
Shaking my head, I patted Harry on the knee and asked, "You don't honestly believe Malfoy would have come after me, do you?"
He grinned again. Number two. "I guess not."
"For whatever reason you came after me, I don't think I ever thanked you."
"Ginny, you don't have to…"
"I know," I said, cutting him off. Even at his young age of 16, he was the same modest man I would later marry, never taking credit for the things he was able to accomplish. Always lucky, he would claim. "But I am…" I smiled at him sweetly. "Thank you for being my hero."
He sat there awkwardly.
I nudged him playfully. "This is the part where you say you're welcome," I whispered with my hand shielding my mouth from the eavesdroppers that weren't there.
"I just don't want you to think I'm bragging because…"
"You're not," I finished for him.
"Exactly," Harry said softly.
We sat there for another couple minutes without saying anything. It was a comforting silence, something he and I were always able to enjoy. The stillness we would later share as a couple always felt right, and was more meaningful to me than five conversations with Dean.
I broke the silence when it felt appropriate. "You asked me what I was doing out here," I said, "but you never told me what your reasons for being up so early."
"The same," he replied, though I didn't expect him to elaborate. Nightmares were a regular occurrence with him as well. Imagine my surprise when he did go on. "I keep seeing Sirius falling through the veil and…"
He stopped before saying anything else, but I had a feeling I knew what he was thinking. He was thinking how it was his fault that Sirius was dead, how it was his fault that Cedric had died, how it was his fault that his parents had died, and how, in the end, he would have to face Voldemort as the Chosen One and kill him, or die in the process.
"It's not your fault," I said to him. "It's his. That's what it comes down to, Harry. There's no one to blame but V-Voldemort. You didn't choose this life. It was chosen for you."
"As long as he lives, everyone I love will die."
My insides turned icy because of what he was implying. My eyes darted towards his hand and I felt the sudden strong urge to hold it, and I was strangely confident that he would have allowed me. Although my intentions were purely innocent, I held back because I wasn't sure if I'd be able to separate the romance from the friendship. Instead, I leaned closer and carefully placed my head on against his shoulder.
"Then I'm glad you're still here to protect me," I whispered to him.
More silence followed, sweet comforting serenity, time to take what was just said and process it. The sun was higher now and the morning dew was beginning to evaporate into the pinks and yellows.
"Do you remember how you could never talk to me, Ginny?" he asked, breaking the silence himself this time.
All the colors of the sunrise had faded into the wild blue above us. My head was placed strategically on his shoulder, the swing creaked as it swayed forwards and backwards, and I sighed heavily to myself. Breathing in his scent, I thought to myself for the second time that summer: Dean was a mistake.
Thinking about his statement to me, I didn't say anything but merely nodded. How could I forget, Harry?
Quietly, he said. "I'm glad you got over that."
We sat together on the swing, talking, laughing, reminiscing, and sharing. Something odd was happening with Harry, and I was determined to keep an eye out for whatever that was. Not that I needed another excuse to keep Harry in sight. When the first sound came from the kitchen, we went inside and got ready for the train ride.
"Fancy trying to find a compartment?" Harry asked me on the train after Ron and Hermione went on Prefect duties.
"I can't," I said, trying hard not to read into his request as more than what it was. After all, last term I had saved his lonesome self and dragged him into a compartment with Neville and Luna. He must have been trying to repay the favor. Despite my reasoning, I explained, "I said I'd meet Dean. See you later."
Disappointed, I turned from him with a swing of my hair. I could feel his eyes watching me leave. I dared not turn back. It was time to stop interacting with Harry so much and start interacting with my boyfriend, who I had not seen all summer, and who I was supposed to drastically miss.
Wandering from compartment window to compartment window, I peered inside each one, looking for Dean. Nearing the end of the corridor, I leaned into the window to check and saw Zacharias Smith sitting with his friends. I cringed at the sight of the foul boy and backed up.
Two hands covered my eyes. "I'll give you two guesses," the hand's owner said. "But I bet you'll only need one, Little Sis."
Grabbing his hands, I spun around in a position where he was hugging me instead of hiding my eyes. "Back to being Ron's Little Sister, am I?"
"Of course not," Dean replied, locking his dark eyes with me. He leaned a bit closer and planted a small kiss on my lips, the first actual kiss we had shared, despite dating for the last two months. I'm sure he had been itching to do that all summer.
After careful inspection, I was relieved that Dean Thomas did not resemble Harry Potter in any way, shape, or form. The hair was the same color, but fundamentally different. The eyes were completely different shades. And Dean was significantly darker than Harry. Nope, I wouldn't expect to see a lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead. For this, I grinned mischievously.
He pulled me into his compartment. Seamus sat there waiting for us. Across the small aisle, Lavender and Parvati sat there, too, happy to see me in their compartment. I greeted each of the Gryffindors with a hello and a smile.
"How was your summer, Ginny?" Dean asked.
"I practiced Quidditch a lot," I answered. I automatically left out that I had been practicing with Harry. I suddenly felt guilty for enjoying so much time with him. Without faltering, I continued, "I am definitely going to try out for the team this year."
Dean's hand slid gently into mine. "I was thinking I'd try out, too," he said.
"Oh?" I said. "I've never seen you fly."
Seamus interrupted. "That's because the idiot couldn't fly before the summer." He prodded his friend in the ribs jokingly and then pointed to himself. "I had to teach this bloke all I knew."
"So that was one hour of summer break taken care of," I said in a humorous manner, hoping that Seamus would catch on that I was only joking. I didn't have too much experience with Seamus and I hoped he would be cool with me. Lavender and Parvati shared a giggle at my jab and Seamus smiled.
"I got pretty good," Dean said. "And I heard Harry is captain this year. Think that might improve my chances?"
"Harry isn't like that," Lavender said. "He'll choose fairly." She looked at Parvati and then to me. "Do you think your brother will try out again?" She immediately turned a light shade of pink and Parvati broke out into giggles again.
"Er," I said, slightly confused as to why she was blushing and her friend was giggling. "He's planning on it, I think…" More giggles and nudges. "…I don't know if Harry will choose him though…"
Parvati nudged Lavender harder and muttered rather conspicuously, "I bet you'd choose him, Lavender."
Lavender glared at Parvati and whispered, "Shut up."
"Ask her then," she retorted.
"Ask me what?" I questioned, growing more and more annoyed by these giggling girls. I had never been good with dealing with their kind for long periods of time. It was the whole growing-up-with-brothers thing.
Lavender blushed again and refused to speak. Parvati rolled her eyes and said, "Fine. I will if you're too embarrassed." She took a deep breath and I waited for the coming question. "You spend a lot of time with Hermione, right?"
Oh no. I see where this was going. "That's obvious, Parvati. What's your point?" I asked.
"Does she fancy your brother?"
I was not sure how to answer that question. I knew she did, of course, but I didn't think Hermione really wanted the information spread around the school. Not that half of the Hogwarts population didn't already think they were an item.
"She's expressed some interest," I said, thinking that was a safe statement.
"But they aren't a couple?" Lavender said quickly.
I slowly shook my head, resulting in another giggling fit from the girls. I rolled my eyes, thinking that Hermione might want to know about this. Perhaps it would inspire her to finally make a move.
Seamus reached over Dean's body and tapped my leg. Turning my attention towards him, he began, "I've wanted to ask…" but before he could finish, the door slid open and our attention turned towards the entrance.
Standing there in the open compartment door was Zacharias Smith. The room shifted uncomfortably. Despite the fact that all of us were members with Smith in the DA, not one of us was very fond of him. In my opinion, he was a stain upon the Hufflepuff legacy.
Not to mention that he seemed to have a mild obsession with me. You remember back in our third year when he tried to win me as Summerby's date so he could dance with only me at the Yule Ball? The thought of him fancying me almost made me lose the little breakfast I had that morning.
My suspicions were once again confirmed when his eyes shifted towards Dean and me and then to our entwined hands. He frowned and then proceeded to say, "I'm hurt, Ginny. After you dumped Michael, I thought you'd look for me."
Dean started to say something but I quieted him. Turning back to the foul Hufflepuff, I replied, "You're not my type, Smith. I prefer my men to not be complete prats."
"Then you settle for only partial prats?"
If it had been anyone else, I would have had to admit that it was a decent comeback, but it was Smith and I wasn't about to inflate his already large ego. Instead, I said, "Why are you here, Smith?"
Zacharias snorted in laughter. "You get to the point fast," he said. He leaned egotistically against the frame of the door and twirled his wand in his hand. "Everyone is talking about what happened at the Ministry. I thought you could clear up for me what's fact and what's fiction."
"I don't want to talk about it," I replied. "Especially with you."
He ignored the statement as if he had heard the with you part and thought that I was interested in furthering the conversation. "Is it true there was a prophecy that named Harry as the Chosen One?"
"I said I don't want to talk about it," I repeated.
"We all know your family is close with Harry," Zacharias said, "so is he the one that's going to kill You-Know-Who?"
I trembled in anger. How could he be so casual about something so important? How could he stand there and want me to talk about it like it was the special at lunchtime?
While I was growing in anger with his insistence, he was growing the same way with my reluctance. Bitterly, he said, "Or is he going to let us all die like he let Cedric die?"
Lavender and Parvati gasped, covering their mouths at the rudeness. Seamus and Dean rose from their seats, angrily protesting the remark from Smith's foul mouth.
I had my wand drawn as fast as I could and the hex flying towards him even faster. As my beloved bats beat him senseless, his compartment door opened and I watched Summerby grab his friend and pull him through. He and the rest of their compartment began to swat at the bats with amusing results.
Before anything could be uttered inside my compartment, a large man had replaced Zacharias. He bore a striking resemblance to a walrus and I recognized Harry's description. This must be the new DADA professor… Slughorn, I think he called him. The professor motioned me outside and closed the compartment door.
My wand was still in my hand. I had been caught and I had not even reached Hogwarts yet. I hoped he wouldn't schedule my punishment during Quidditch tryouts. That would mark the second year in a row I had missed it because of punishment. Preparing for the worst, I placed my wand away.
Slughorn studied me for a second, looking over my face and hair. Finally, he said, "You must be Arthur Weasley's daughter."
"Ginny," I said softly. "Listen, Sir, I'm sorry about the hex. In my defense, he deserved it."
Slughorn laughed. "Deserved it, did he?" he patted me on the back. "Well, then you shouldn't be sorry, should you? That was a fair piece of magic you did there."
"Thank… you…?"
"Tell me, Ginny," he said, "what is your father up to these days? Is he still in that department he loves so much?"
"He was promoted but I can't begin to tell you what his new title is. I don't have enough breath in me to say it."
Slughorn laughed again. "I can't believe they convinced him to leave his old job behind. He was always fascinated with Muggles, even when I taught him. I never quite understood it, him being a pureblood and everything."
As Harry had relayed, I was not sure how I felt about this new professor. He was a nice man but he was overwhelming. "Being pureblood isn't everything," I replied. "My best friend is Muggleborn and she's a genius."
"Muggleborn genius?" he repeated, transfixed by the words. "Would you be talking about the same Muggleborn that Harry was talking about?"
"The same," I replied.
"Oho!" He guffawed and his belly shook viciously. "Am I right to assume you know young Mr. Potter as well?"
"He stays with my family often," I replied.
"He did not mention he knew such a charming young lady," he said. "You must know if the rumors are true then."
I flinched. Was I really going to have to deal with these questions all year, just as Harry was going to? Just as Ron and Hermione would, too? I honestly didn't want to be hexing every curious person. Instead, I changed the subject.
"It's almost lunch, Professor," I said. "Would you mind if I got back…"
Slughorn stopped me. "Why don't you come to my compartment for lunch?" he asked. "I invited several students and it would make my day if you came. What do you say?"
Once again, I was unaware how to take this new teacher. I couldn't be sure if he would be offended if I said no. I couldn't even be sure if this was a request and I was allowed to say no. With much hesitation, I agreed.
He led the way towards his compartment. His body took up most of the corridor so I strolled behind him and listened to him drone on about who was going to be at the lunch.
It was obvious from the get-go what this little lunch was for. Every single one of the students that were packed into the compartment, excluding me, had a family member of great influence in the past or present or, like Harry, had already done so many extraordinary things. Slughorn spent most of the time acquainting himself with each of these students.
When it came to Harry, it was clear that Slughorn viewed him more as a trophy for his little club than anything else. We spent an uncomfortable few minutes listening to Slughorn praise Harry and talk about the rumors. Harry looked like he wanted to crawl under a rock and die. He simply sat there, not saying anything.
Neville bailed him out. "We never heard a prophecy," he said, which was the truth. It might have been accurate that there was a real prophecy but it had smashed before he heard it.
I spoke up this time and came up with a pretty good lie. "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." I prided myself there in keeping my cool and not faltering in my voice. I looked at Harry who was relieved that we had covered for him.
Finally, the end of the "lunch" had come and Slughorn let us leave. Following Zabini back towards the student section, I informed Harry about how I came to be part of the festivities. He started to say something but broke off, pulled on his Invisibility Cloak, muttered a farewell, and was gone.
"What is he doing?" Neville asked me.
I shrugged. "Who knows?" I muttered, also trying to figure it out. "There is no rest for people like him."
"You reckon the Prophet's right about him?" Neville asked quietly as he passed into the student compartments. "Do you think he is the Chosen One?"
I didn't like to lie to Neville but if Harry hadn't told him, it wasn't my place to say. "I don't like thinking about it," I said softly.
Neville nodded. "If Harry is the Chosen One, he won't be alone. I'll help him."
"I know you will, Neville," I said, patting him on the shoulder. When we arrived at my compartment, I hugged Neville before returning back inside. He continued down the corridor.
Lavender and Parvati had already changed into their robes and the boys were in the process. Everyone looked surprised to see me still in one piece.
"We didn't think he would let you back," Seamus said.
"I didn't get in trouble," I replied, explaining the situation.
"Instead of detention, you get lunch?" Dean asked amused. He put an arm around me and looked around the compartment. "That's my girl!" He kissed me on the cheek and grinned.
When the train reached Hogsmeade station, we unloaded quickly. Stepping off the vehicle, I noticed Tonks standing off to the side, intently watching the students unloading. Since her usual vibrant hair was now a simple brown color, I almost didn't recognize her.
I told Dean that I would meet him in the Great Hall and I strolled over to visit my older friend and mentor. As I came closer, I noticed how miserable she looked as she scanned the crowd. She didn't even notice me until I stopped and greeted her.
"Wotcher, Ginny," she said, glancing at me and back to the crowd. Her face was stony hard and showed little emotion except a deep sadness inside of her.
I wondered if she missed Sirius? Did she think she could have done something to stop his death. "What are you doing, Tonks?" I asked finally.
"Watching for Harry," she replied. "I saw your brother and Hermione exit but he wasn't with them. Do you think he had his Cloak on?"
"He had it on earlier," I replied, "but do you think he needs it out here?"
Tonks didn't answer. I stood with her in awkward silence watching the students pile out. As the crowd dispersed, she pointed to a window where the blinds were down. "I'm going to check it out."
"Do you want some help?" I asked.
"No," she said. "You better keep moving." Without another word, she left my company and walked onto the train, followed closely by her newfound personality.
Before I turned to leave, I stole another look at the compartment. It was where the Slytherins usually sat. I turned my attention back to Hogwarts and jogged towards the carriages, but the last one had already rolled away. I sprinted as fast as I could towards the castle entrance, slipping in just as the gates were closing, and watched the last two students enter the castle. When I reached the doors, I was out of breath. Leaning against the wall, I stopped to regain my composure.
"Been up to something, Weasley?" a cold voice said. Looking up, Snape was standing at the door. "The First Years have already crossed the lake and are about to begin the Sorting. What was so important that you are so far behind your peers?"
"I was talking to Tonks."
"Your friendship with Nymphadora does not give you free reign when it comes to school rules," Snape sneered.
"I don't…"
"Since you feel so privileged, maybe you could tell me how many points I should take away for your tardiness? Five points per minute, would you say? That would put you up to fifty points."
I cringed. If I agreed or disagreed, I was reinforcing his accusation that I was feeling privileged. Instead of humoring him, I took the silent approach.
Luckily, we were interrupted. Snape glared at the silver wolf that was running towards us. He pointed his wand at it and the wolf stopped and spoke the message in Tonk's dull tone, "I have Harry. Come to the gates and let him in."
Snape's sneer was even bigger. If there was anyone he enjoyed taunting more than a Weasley, it was Harry. As the Patronus faded, he completely ignored me and set off towards the gates.
Hurrying quickly through the school, I slipped into the Great Hall relatively unnoticed. The Sorting had just begun and I found my empty seat next to Dean. I looked up to the stool and saw a young girl being Sorted into Ravenclaw.
"What happened?" Dean whispered to me.
"Snape stopped me," I replied. "We had a nice chat."
"Did you lose us points already?" Seamus interjected in.
"No, he got distracted," I replied.
Hermione was several seats away and she motioned for my attention. Next to her was an empty place and she whispered to me, "Where's Harry?"
"With Tonks," I whispered back.
"Is he okay?" Ron asked.
I shrugged.
When the Sorting ended, the eating began. Munching through chicken legs and chips, Dean was asking me if I could give him a couple Quidditch pointers before the tryouts. Eventually he started talking about some Muggle sport called football that he and his stepfather watched all summer.
The doors banged open and Harry had entered. From the distance, it looked like something had covered his face and it looked like… it was…. Harry's face was covered in dry blood. When he sat down, Hermione cleaned him off and I tried to listen intently to the story he was about to tell but he hushed Ron and Hermione's questions.
Any hope that this year would be quiet was immediately dashed.