Ginny's Story
By Frog-Princess
(ginny@darkcastle.com)
Chapter Two
As always, the Great Hall looked spectacular. A few first year students marveled at the candles hanging suspended overhead; others sat gaping, in awe, at the enchanted ceiling, which showed countless numbers of glittering stars in a velvety blue-black sky.
Ginny Weasley remained hunched over her diary, filling up page after page. She was hardly paying attention to the ongoing Sorting ceremony. "GRYFFINDOR!" bellowed the hat, as the others at the table exploded with cheers and applause. To Ginny, immersed in her own thoughts, it all seemed irritating background noise.
The applause subsided as Blackmoore, Emma took her seat at the Gryffindor table and Candlewick, Bruno nervously approached the Sorting Hat. Harry stole a glance at Ginny, who seemed to be avoiding him.
He wished she would at least try and watch the ceremony. Still, she had stopped crying much earlier, which was in itself a slight improvement. Harry hated seeing girls cry. Maybe, during the feast, he would try to make Ginny smile - just to see if he could. After all, she had such a nice smile.
Ginny was beginning to have that strange feeling one gets when they know they're being watched. Probably Colin Creevey. Ginny smiled weakly at the thought of her old acquaintance and looked up. But to her surprise - and horror - it was not Colin who was watching her, but Harry.
Their eyes met, and Ginny turned slightly pink. Ron was watching, unsure what to make of it, though he seemed slightly amused.
Harry grinned and winked at Ginny, who allowed herself a small smile in return.
The feast begun shortly. Within a few minutes, Professor McGonagall made her way to where the Gryffindors sat. The head of Gryffindor house, McGonagall was a rather stern-looking woman in emerald green robes. "Pardon me, everyone," she said. "Miss Weasley?"
Ginny turned, looking up at her. "Yes, Professor?" she asked curiously.
McGonagall's severe expression vanished as she replied, "Your course schedule" (which she handed over to Ginny). "You haven't forgotten our discussion, I presume?"
"Oh!" said Ginny. "Er, of course not, Professor McGonagall."
Hermione was already examining Ginny's schedule. "Oh, Ginny, you're taking advanced classes this year!" she exclaimed.
"Not exactly," Professor McGonagall explained, her eyes shining with an emotion that must have been pride. "You see, Miss Weasley has shown much promise in her classes. We have arranged, upon her parents' request, for her to move up in a few of her courses to fifth year level--"
She stopped for a moment, now smiling. "Perhaps you've had a good influence on her, Miss Granger."
Ron gave a great sigh, causing everyone to turn and stare at him. "Oh - no, no!" he said suddenly. "It isn't about you, Ginny. I was just thinking... about something else." He absent-mindedly muttered something that sounded like, "Er... congratulations, Gin."
McGonagall waited impatiently with her hands on her hips. "Miss Weasley, I'd appreciate it if you stopped by my classroom after the feast. I've got to prepare for class tomorrow, but I'd like to be able to discuss the changes in your schedule with fewer interruptions."
But no matter how hard McGonagall tried to conceal it, she couldn't hide the fact that she was happy about having two Gryffindor students who were interested in taking higher-level courses. Maybe she'd had a little too much iced pumpkin juice, Harry thought to himself. Still, he was proud of Ginny too.
Hermione picked up her knife and began buttering a dinner roll. "I think it's good for Ginny to challenge herself a little acedemically," she said to Ron. Her voice was quiet and sweet, yet she spoke with her nose in the air, in such a manner that Ginny was reminded of Hermione's cat, Crookshanks. Hermione continued, in a sort of agree-if-you-know-what's-good-for-you tone, "A girl has the right to do what she wants, you know."
Ron buried his face in his hands. "You're taking this the wrong way. I never said Ginny doing well in class would be a bad thing." There was something he'd been wanting to tell Hermione, a certain something he'd been practicing in front of the mirror all summer long. Something he hadn't revealed to anyone - yet somehow, Harry must have suspected him, because every time Ron got up the courage to speak with Hermione, Harry began to smirk...
"Ron," said Hermione, now trying to cut a bit of steak. "What is it you were thinking about, then?"
"Nothing," he said quickly.
Ginny glanced from one to the other; it certainly seemed very tense. Hermione sighed. "Ron, I'm only--"
"Just put the knife down, okay?" Ron said uneasily.
"You two," Ginny said, giggling for the first time that day. "I can tell where this is going. Honestly, I think you just argue for the sake of arguing, and everyone knows why. Now apologize before it goes any further." And with that, she took a drink from her goblet and pretended to be preoccupied, writing like mad in her diary again, although her quill didn't touch the page once. Every now and then she'd glance up at Ron and Hermione.
Hermione raised her eyes to the ceiling, but she did put the knife down, and she was obviously considering what Ginny had said. Her face was very pink, and she didn't meet Ron's eyes as she spoke. "Alright, alright, just let me start over..." She took a deep, steadying breath. "What I meant," she said to him, "was that you were... er... you were very nice to your sister on the train today, Ron. I was... um, that is, I'm sometimes, er..." She gulped, took another deep breath, and finished hurriedly, "Proud of you."
At that moment, the headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, put up a hand to silence the crowd and began to speak. "If you please, everyone," he said. "Might I make a few additional announcements?"
The "additional announcements" included that the Forbidden Forest was still off limits to all students; that those interested in trying out for available positions on the Quidditch teams should speak with the head of their respective houses within two to three weeks; and finally, that Defense Against the Dark Arts classes (which were originally to be postponed until further notice) would commence the next day. Students groaned and sighed, except for Hermione, who payed close attention to Dumbledore's speech.
"The reason for this," the headmaster continued, "is that we have managed to find a new teacher willing to fill the position as Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."
A few students whispered to their friends, or sniggered quietly. For the past few years, no one had lasted more than a year as teacher for that particular class, so they had good reason to believe that the position was jinxed.
"I have been informed that she has just arrived, and I'd like to take this opportunity to introduce you. Let us all welcome her back. Professor Delacour?"
Harry and Hermione stared. "Fleur?"
Hermione's face fell. "Oh," she said. "I remember her. She was very... nice... towards the end of the year, anyway..."
Nearly the entire male half of the student body stared unblinkingly as she passed, blond hair flying behind her. She smiled, waving happily at her students-to-be. Hermione looked sadly at Ron, expecting him to be gazing at the part-girl, part-veela that was making her way to where Dumbledore stood. Ron, however, was gawking at Hermione.
Going red as Hermione noticed, Ron looked away quickly, though every so often he'd continue shooting sideways glances. Hermione was blushing.
Ginny suddenly noticed the wide smile that was on her own face. She was quite satisfied with what she saw, and felt even more so upon remembering that she had done her part to encourage it. She'd completely forgotten about the events of the day when her gaze fell upon Fred and George, sitting further down the table.
She managed to catch Fred's eye, and after a moment Ginny could have sworn he looked at her apologetically. "I'm sorry," he mouthed. But she must have been imagining things, because the next thing she knew, he was talking and laughing with Angelina Johnson again.
"What's wrong, Ginny?" Hermione asked.
"Oh... nothing," Ginny lied.
Ron was catching on. "Lighten up, Gin, I don't think they'll mention it again," he said cheerfully, although the look on his face told Ginny that he didn't fully believe that statement. Then Ron did something he hadn't done in a very long time; he put his arm around his sister and forced a grin.
Ginny, too, smiled again - a task that somehow required so much more effort than it had just moments ago.
