Description: Ginny Weasley is forced to attend her seventh year at Hogwarts when all she wants to do is join her favorite Quidditch team and play internationally; when she sees the chance of securing herself a place in the team by attending the annual Ball, she's ready to cross any limits and claim her right in the air. But will she return safely before midnight strikes? More importantly, will she be the same Ginny she was when she left?
Note: It's my first time writing a GW fic. Please leave reviews?
Chapter 1: Prehour
There was a hag in Ginny's window.
Bright, insect green eyes peered through the dirt on her window – eyes that belonged to disfigured face covered in warts that leaked yellowish pus onto an upturned nose. The hag bared its sharp, razor teeth and Ginny realized with a jolt, it was smiling.
Her first instinct was to reach for her wand. She patted furiously on the sewed-on pocket of her nightgown before she remembered that her mother had confiscated it just hours ago. With the first instinct out of the way, her body urged her to scream.
Unfortunately, everyone was at the Ball.
The hag – how did she manage to cling to Ginny's window like that? – was now pointing a long finger with stretched, broken nails at the window. She mouthed something, but with the teeth and the slimy green lips, Ginny couldn't actually make out anything.
A second passed.
Ginny's heart was beating wildly now. Is this a dream or…?
"Open!" The hag said again, her voice a rasp, as she pointed at the window again.
Ginny just stared.
"Are you afraid?" Said the rasp. "I won't hurt you!"
Nope, definitely not a dream. Ginny's dreams weren't this grim. Tentatively, she approached the window. It was locked from inside, a rusty old Muggle lock Arthur had insisted on using ever since the dark times started – it's been a year since the Battle, now, but she never forgot to put it in place each time. Fred had enchanted it to unlock only by Ginny's touch. And, despite everything, she wasn't ready yet to dispose of something – the only thing? – Fred had given her, a token of love and concern.
Today, she sent silent thanks up to him.
Ginny cleared her throat. "Look, Ms Hag." She began, unsure of her words. "If you are looking for food at the moment, I must tell you that I am seventeen now, and no longer qualify as a child."
The hag's shaggy brows pulled into a frown, as if confused – and then its features relaxed and it released a slow cackle. "I am not here to eat you! I am only half a hag!" It – she? – shook her head, grinning from ear to pointed ear. "I am here to get you to the Ball."
The Yearly Pureblood Ball was all the magical womenfolk talked about once winters blessed upon the world its first snowflakes; the greatest party of the year even captured the males' attention with the promise of the Yearly Challenge that lasted until midnight and awarded the winners with priceless Trophies to adorn their Family Shelves with.
The Ball, themed different every year, had opened for the muggleborns and the 'blood-traitor' families only this year as the Wizarding World learned to set aside their prejudices after the epic fall of Voldemort.
The first time the Weasleys could attend, Ginny was left out.
As soon as Ginny had heard that this year's Ball would be graced with the presence of Gwenog Jones, captain of the Holyhead Harpies Quidditch team, she had revoked her plans to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas and came sprinting home – unfortunately, luck decided to act against her.
After the Battle of Hogwarts, there was nothing left for Ginny back at the castle – Hogwarts wasn't Hogwarts without her brothers there to annoy her at all times, without Harry who was always there, without Hermione or Luna or any of her friends – but Molly Weasley wasn't contented.
"Attend your final year," She had instructed, lips thin. "Pass your NEWTs. Then you can do whatever you decide."
Despite all the encouraging smiles and approving nods, her mother didn't really believe Ginny to get selected for Holyhead Harpies and play Quidditch internationally. She was hell-bent on back-up plans when Ginny returned from the try-outs, ready for another go at life. Molly was determined that her NEWTs would appear in the distressful times as her knight-in-shining-armor.
At the rate her NEWT practice was going, Ginny seriously doubted that.
And the punishment for her rapidly falling grades? She gets barred from perhaps the only opportunity she'll ever have to impress Gwenog Jones and get into Holyhead Harpies.
Sometimes, Ginny thought, Molly was as evil as Bellatrix herself.
After the hag had made herself comfortable on Ginny's bed and warmed herself with a steaming mug of coffee Ginny muggle-made for her, she got to business. Aptly introducing herself from the Society of Primed Assistants No-one Knows (or SPANK for short), she made her intentions very clear.
"I can help you escape." She said, her rasp a bit lightened from the coffee. "I can get you a dress, a wand, a transport to the Ball. But," She held up a crooked hand. "On one, sole condition."
Ginny blinked rapidly. "And what might that be?"
The hag smiled, razor teeth stained with coffee. "Enter the Challenge and bring me back the Trophy."
Every year, alongside the Ball, a Yearly Challenge was hosted for the attendees' entertainment; the Challenge required them to find a different Trophy each year based on a set of clues. If you found it before midnight, it was yours.
"If you failed to do so," The hag continued. "It will be upon SPANK itself to uproot you and destroy your whole life in our secretive, powerful ways." She looked smug. "Now, what do you say? Do you want to attend the Ball?"
Ginny took a deep breath. It had been a long, long time since any action in her life. The only times she felt like her old, vibrant self was when she was high in the air with a red ball in hand. The calm after the excitement – dangerous, yes, but excitement nevertheless – of the Battle was absolutely dreadful.
Here she had the perfect opportunity: bring some of the spice back in life while securing her future in the Holyhead Harpies.
It was too good to miss.
"Yes. I do."