THG7
***
"...so the bloke tells him, 'I need help-- I feel like a pair of curtains!' and the doctor looks at him and says, 'Pull yourself together, man!'"
Ginny and the other girls groaned.
"Please," begged Dolores, "Douglas, no more. For my sanity's sake." The curly-headed boy just grinned.
After leaving Harry and her brother to their own devices, Ginny had managed to find a compartment with some of her fellow fourth year Gryffindors. The four of them-- Ann Dixon, Douglas O'Conner, Dolores Mejia, and she-- had all piled into one of the horseless carriages to make the last leg of the journey to Hogwarts, and Douglas seemed bound and determined to take advantage of his captive audience.
Ann nudged Ginny's elbow and muttered, "Do you think he'll keep it up all the way to the castle?"
Ginny nodded surreptitiously. "He didn't stop the whole train ride," she murmured. "Why would he stop now?" Ann sighed and rolled her eyes, but there was a tiny smile tickling the edges of her mouth. Douglas's jokes were so very bad that you really couldn't help but grin. And that, of course, encouraged him.
"Hey, Ginny-- what do you call a flock of dead birds?" Ginny covered her face with her hands. Make it stop, make it stop....
"I don't know, Douglas," she said dully through her fingers. "What do you call a flock of dead birds?"
"A poltergeese!" Douglas crowed. "Get it? A poltergeese. Like poltergeist, only--"
Dolores did them all a favor and gave him a sharp rap on the head with her wand. "Ow," he said, rubbing his head.
"Next time, I'll hex you," Dolores threatened. "Don't think I won't."
"I'll help," said Ann, twirling her wand through her fingers.
Douglas scowled. "Remind me again why I hang around you guys?"
"Aesthetic reasons, obviously," Ginny deadpanned. "You get to spend time with three of the most gorgeous girls at Hogwarts." She tossed her braids over her shoulders, and Ann and Dolores batted their eyes.
"Ah." Douglas spread his arms atop the back of the seat, looking like the cat that got the canary. "I knew there was a reason."
Ginny enjoyed the rest of the ride to the castle. She didn't have many close friends, but there was an easy camaraderie amid the four of them. Certainly, Dolores was a little opinionated and bossy, and Ann was a bit of a shrinking violet, and Douglas was just-- well, Douglas, bad jokes and all-- but Ginny, joining in with the comfortable banter, realized just how much she had missed her friends over the summer.
Douglas was in the middle of another of his jokes when the carriage finally jolted to a halt outside the great oak doors of the castle. "Thank God," Dolores said, opening the door and leaping out. "If I have to hear about another Japanese golfer--"
Ann and Douglas followed, and Ginny jumped out last, taking a long look at the castle before walking to the doors. There was something just solid and reassuring about Hogwarts-- it was a constant. The grey stone walls were scarred and softly weathered by time: they had stood for over a thousand years, and they would stand for another age at least, if given the chance.
Ginny shivered slightly, wrapping her robes closer around her. There was a sharp edge of autumn on the evening breeze, and she walked quickly to the great doors to catch up with her friends.
"Miss Weasley!"
Ginny turned, recognizing the sharp tones of the Deputy Headmistress and Head of Gryffindor house. Professor McGonagall stood at the doors, her face impassive. Ginny wondered for a moment if she'd already managed to lose house points for breaking some obscure rule before going over to speak with her.
"Is something the matter, Professor?" she asked, trying not to sound too worried. Professor McGonagall shook her head.
"No, nothing is wrong, Miss Weasley," she said, and Ginny relaxed a bit. "I have been asked by Professor Dumbledore to inform you that you are to report to his office after the conclusion of tonight's feast. I believe he wishes to speak to you, Miss Granger, and Mr. Potter. He said it would not take much time."
"Oh." Ginny bit her lip. I wonder what can be this time, she thought. Unless it's just to catch Hermione up on what has happened-- but then, why not ask Ron to come, too?
McGonagall interrupted Ginny's reverie. "You know where the Headmaster's office is, I assume?" she asked. Ginny nodded. She'd been there her first year; it wasn't a place she was likely to forget. "Good," said McGonagall. "You'll find that the password is 'chocolate orange.'" McGonagall twisted her face into a small smile. "Now," she said, "I believe your friends are waiting on you, and I must go see to the first years."
"Thank you, Professor." Ginny shook her head, and, ignoring the questions from her friends, headed in to the Great Hall.
***
"And... there's the new Professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts." Dolores pointed to the dark-haired witch sitting next to Professor Flitwick. "Right on schedule. Although, I can't imagine why Professor Moody didn't come back this year. He was ages better than either that numbskull or the werewolf."
"That's not fair, and you know it," Ginny hissed. "Professor Lupin was a wonderful teacher. He can't help what he is." Dolores opened her mouth to argue, but Ann broke in, eager to prevent the argument that had played itself out between her friends so often she could recite it.
"I'm glad Moody's gone," she said, shuddering. "That eye of his gave me the willies."
"CONSTANT VIGILENCE!" Douglas barked, and Ann gave a little squeal and jumped. Ginny and Dolores snickered.
"For as many times as he did that to you last year, Ann, you'd think you'd learn to expect it," Ginny teased.
Ann sniffed. "Well, I can't help that I don't have holy terrors for brothers, Ginny Weasley. Not all of us are as inured as you."
"A truer word was never spoken." Ginny raised her goblet in a mock salute just as the doors swung open, and McGonagall ushered in a herd of frightened-looking first years.
"Pfft. This lot doesn't look up to snuff," whispered Dolores. "We were never that scared. They all look like they've just seen a ghost!"
"Well, they have," Ann pointed out judiciously. She was right; the ghosts of each house were hovering just over their respective tables, and several of the first years looked utterly terrified by them. "Besides," Ann continued in a low whisper, "You know the Muggle-borns have probably never seen one before." Ginny wondered for a moment how many Muggle-borns were in this group; certainly, it couldn't be too many-- there didn't seem to be as many first years this term as there usually were.
Douglas, it seemed, had noticed the same thing. "There aren't very many of them, are there?" he said, looking puzzled. "I wonder why."
Ginny wondered, too, but didn't have time to pursue the thought as the Hat cleared its throat, and began the Sorting.
***
Douglas slumped forwards and rested his head on the table. "I think you lot are going to have to roll me out of here," he groaned.
Ginny laughed, and hit him lightly on the head. "Well, if you will eat half a turkey--"
"And a ham--" said Dolores.
"And three meat pies," added Ann.
"Right," Ginny tallied it up on her fingers. "Half a turkey, a ham, three meat pies, potatoes, and two puddings. If you will eat like a starving ogre, then you're going to have to live with the stomach pains."
"Heartless fiends," Douglas moaned.
"That would be us," Dolores said dryly, standing up. "We'd better get back to the Tower, before we miss out on the annual prefect power trip. Say, Ginny," she said, turning to her friend. "You know Hermione Granger's a prefect this year, right?"
"Is she?" asked Ann. "Oooooh, she's going to be a strict one, I bet."
"Yes, but Ginny's a friend of hers, right?" Dolores nudged the girl beside her. "Surely you can get her to wave some of those silly little rules for us."
Ginny shook her head. "Hermione's really my brother's friend," she said. "And she wouldn't even wave the rules for him."
"What about Potter, then?" asked Douglas. "Aren't they...?" His voice trailed off, and he raised his eyebrow.
"No!" Ginny said, a little too heatedly. "Honestly, do you believe everything you read?" Her friends exchanged a quick glance. "What I mean is," she said a little more convincingly, "they're just friends. And anyway," she grinned, "I think Ron'd kill Harry if that were the case."
"Ohhhh," said Dolores, smirking. "I want to hear more about this later." She glanced at her watch. "But we're going to be late if we don't hurry." She was right-- the Great Hall was nearly empty.
"Oh!" Ginny exclaimed, suddenly remembering that she had somewhere else to be. "I'll meet you all back at the Tower-- I have to go and-- do something." And she sped out the door.
***
Ginny was panting by the time she reached the gargoyle that stood in front of the stairs to the Headmaster's office. "Ch-- chocolate orange," she wheezed, trying to catch her breath. She was lucky Filch hadn't seen her running through the halls; it would never do to earn a detention on her first day back at school.
The gargoyle grated and turned aside, and Ginny stepped up onto the moving staircase. As the stairs wound closer to the top of the tower, she could hear voices drifting down.
"... Ginny to be late. Do you think McGonagall told her?" Hermione's precise voice echoed down the stairwell.
"She looked like she was busy with her friends at supper," Harry's voice answered. "She probably just got distracted." The stairs finally reached the top, and Ginny stepped guiltily into the room.
"Sorry I'm late," she apologized, looking around for Dumbledore.
Harry shrugged. "He's not here yet," he said. "Anyway, you're not late. We were just early."
"Oh." Ginny shifted her feet. "So, any idea why we're here?" she asked, looking at Hermione.
The brown-haired girl shook her head. "I'm not sure. I guess it has something to do with the attack," she ventured, glancing sideways at Harry.
"Why isn't Ron or Fred or George here, then?" Ginny wondered out loud. "Dumbledore said he'd let us all know if there was something going on."
Harry shrugged again. "Maybe it's not very important," he guessed, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Ron's back in the common room, anyway. He seemed a little put out." Harry smirked a little as he said this, and Ginny was amused to hear Hermione give a quiet huff.
"I don't know why he should be put out," she said pointedly, crossing her arms across her chest. Harry's smirk grew more amused, and he glanced at Ginny, who grinned back. Ginny opened her mouth to ask Hermione something more about Ron, just to watch her reaction, when Dumbledore entered the room.
"Ah. Miss Granger, Miss Weasley, Mr. Potter-- thank you for coming so promptly. We shall make this quick so that you may return to your friends," he said in a business-like manner, rustling around in a cabinet next to his desk. He turned brought out a small brass key, and opened a compartment in the back. He brought forth an inkwell, a deep red quill, and a weathered old scroll that Ginny recognized.
Hermione seemed mesmerized. "The Scroll of the Order," she said, her voice hushed.
Dumbledore beamed. "Very good, Miss Granger. You have done your research." He unrolled the Scroll, and Ginny bit her lip as she saw her name stand out on the gold parchment, red as blood. Hermione's forehead wrinkled, and she glanced curiously at Ginny. Dumbledore continued, unperturbed. "This Scroll contains the names and promises of the members of the Order of the Phoenix," he said. "Miss Weasley and her brothers have already signed, as have many others. I would ask the two of you to think long and hard before you add your names," Dumbledore instructed. "This is no promise to be given lightly."
Harry and Hermione nodded, and Hermione stepped forward to take the quill. "It's 'Me Libente Datare' isn't it?" she asked, looking at the Headmaster. He nodded, and Hermione bent her head as she scratched out the words in her neat handwriting. She signed her name, and the words flashed gold and sank into the page. Hermione looked pleased with herself, but Harry just looked puzzled.
"Then why is--" He scratched his head, and Ginny wished she could sink into the floor. He must be wondering why my signature didn't disappear like Hermione's. Harry didn't seem to be too concerned about it, though, as he shook his head and took hold of the quill.
Harry began to write out the unfamiliar phrase-- but paused at the end of the first word. He looked tense, and somehow pained-- his face was pale, and his breathing was rapid in the silent room. Ginny held her breath. He bit his lip, and with a look of concentration, finished the phrase and signed his name.
She was not at all surprised when the writing flashed gold, but did not fade.
Harry looked down at his scarlet signature, crossing his arms quickly across his chest. "Why is my name still there?" he asked. "Hermione's..." he trailed off, looking to the Headmaster for an explanation.
Dumbledore smiled slightly, "I believe Miss Weasley can answer that question for you, if you wish," he said easily, rolling up the Scroll. Harry looked over at Ginny, and she once again wished the floor would open up and swallow her. "Miss Granger," the Headmaster said, turning to Hermione after placing the Scroll back in the cabinet. "I trust that you have duties to attend to in Gryffindor Tower?"
Hermione straightened her back. "Yes, sir," she answered. "Shall I go on back, then?" she asked, taking the gentle hint.
"Yes, thank you," Professor Dumbledore said politely. "Miss Weasley and Mr. Potter will not be far behind you." Hermione nodded and bid the Headmaster a good night before leaving.
"Now," said Professor Dumbledore, turning to face the two remaining students, "we come to the point. I believe that I earlier mentioned the connection to the Balance each of you has." Ginny nodded, feeling somehow awkward that this had to be discussed in front of Harry. "You both understand how very rare it is that there are two conduits at once, and how important it is that we understand more about what this means in relation to Voldemort's return." Dumbledore paused. "Particularly as each of you is in some way connected to him." Ginny thought of the two scarlet signatures side by side on the Scroll..
"I would greatly encourage the two of you to compare class schedules and determine a regular time that is convenient for the both of you to meet, and spend that time studying what you can find about the Balance. It may be important that we know about any previously recorded cases similar to this."
"Sir," Ginny interrupted, "Will there be a professor there to help us?"
Dumbledore shook his head. "I am sorry, no." Ginny could feel a flush rising in her cheeks. All right. This is going to involve being alone with Harry for extended periods of time. No problem. She willed the blood in her cheeks to go away. I can do this. "If you have any questions, of course," the Headmaster continued, "I am certain that members of the staff would not object to aiding you-- but I would prefer it if you did not mention the reasons behind your studies. If you have any concerns that no one seems able to respond to, you might try writing to Professor Lupin, however," he added. "I believe he did some reading on the Old Ways after leaving Hogwarts."
"And Harry," Dumbledore said, turning to face the pale-faced boy, "I'm afraid you will have a difficult term, as far as your schedule goes."
"Why, sir?" Harry asked, absentmindedly playing with his right sleeve.
"Well, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said with a smile, "I assume that Gryffindor will want their Seeker in top shape, and I understand that means many practices." Harry's eyes lit up, and Ginny fought to keep herself from grinning at his obvious joy.
"Quidditch? It's starting up again? Really?" Harry's face nearly split in two with the first real smile anyone had seen for weeks. "Does everyone know already?" he asked.
The Headmaster chuckled. "Yes, Quidditch matches are to take place as usual. And the Heads of House have no doubt told their students that by now." He glanced at his watch, and Ginny saw that it read Jupiter and Io a quarter past Mars. "And it is time for the two of you to return to Gryffindor, I believe." Dumbledore walked them to the staircase. "Have a pleasant evening, and good luck on your studies."
***
They were halfway back to Gryffindor before either one said a word; Ginny because she was trying desperately to think of something to say that wouldn't be inane, and Harry because he was already busy devising Quidditch strategies in his head.
I haven't really played in a year and a half, he mused. And there's no Oliver this year. Weird. I wonder who'll be Captain? And we don't have a--
"Keeper," Harry groaned. There was a slight echo, and he blinked. That was out loud? Apparently it was, because Ginny, walking beside him, smirked.
"You're as bad as Ron," she said, shaking her head.
"What?" Harry asked, perplexed.
"Ten to one you've been thinking about Quidditch this whole time."
Harry blinked. "And how would you know that?"
She gave a half smile. "You haven't stopped grinning since Dumbledore mentioned it." Oh. So I need to work on my poker face. She sped up her pace a little. "You know," she said, "Douglas O'Conner plays Keeper."
"The fourth year?" Harry matched his pace to hers. "Is he any good?"
Ginny shrugged. "Douglas is a lot of talk," she said. "But I've heard he's pretty decent."
Harry shook his head. "We need better than pretty decent," he said, frustrated. "We need someone great, someone with skill, someone who makes it look easy--" He punctuated the words with emphatic gestures.
Ginny stopped. "Harry--" She sounded horrified.
"What?" Harry began to ask, and saw where her eyes were drawn. His left hand, which until now had been held firmly over his right elbow, was slick with blood. Damn. Harry smiled uncomfortably, and recrossed his arms. "It's okay, really, Ginny," he tried to convince her.
"No, it's not," she said, going pale. "It's all over your robes-- Harry--" Her eyes met his searchingly. "It's from the curse wound, isn't it?" she asked. And, not waiting for an answer, she bent closer to his arm and tried to draw the sleeve of his robe away.
Harry jerked his arm back. "I'm fine," he said sharply. Ginny looked up, and for a moment Harry thought he was in for a tongue-lashing to rival Mrs. Weasley. But instead, Ginny stepped back, her face falling. She didn't say anything-- just began walking steadily down the corridor.
Harry felt like banging his head repeatedly against the stone walls, for some reason.
He sighed and followed her. "Ginny--" he attempted, but he wasn't sure what to say after that. And she didn't seem to have any great ideas, either. She just made a sort of sniffing, swallowing sort of noise, and Harry wondered for a moment if she was crying. It was hard to tell in the torchlight.
"I'm sorry," he heard her say clearly, turning to face him. So she's not crying then. Harry was relieved. He had no idea what to do when Hermione cried, and even less of an idea when it came to other girls.
He shook his head. "It's my fault," he said. "I shouldn't have yelled at you." There was a long silence as they went up the staircase to the seventh floor. Well, isn't this awkward. Mutual apology club, anyone?
"Don't get mad at me, Harry," Ginny said suddenly, "but--- when did it start bleeding again? When you signed the Scroll?" she asked.
Harry stared. "How did you know that?" He gripped his injured arm a little tighter.
Ginny shrugged, not looking at him. "You looked like it hurt when you signed, and you'd had your arms crossed since then." Definitely have to work on the poker face. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "And your signature was like mine." She said this quickly and quietly, almost as though she hoped he wouldn't hear.
They stopped outside the common room entrance. "You know why it didn't fade, then," Harry said. It wasn't a question.
She nodded, and told him briefly what Dumbledore had explained to her. "So part of-- Tom-- is still in me," she said quietly. She didn't meet his eyes, and Harry wasn't quite certain of what to say. Thankfully, he didn't have to worry about it for long, as Ginny straightened her shoulders and continued. "I'd bet that the reason your name didn't fade is because He-Who--" she corrected herself, "because Voldemort tried to kill you and couldn't, and he's somehow still there, in you."
Harry nodded; it made sense. Dumbledore had told him at the end of his second year that Voldemort might have transferred some of his powers to him inadvertently when he attacked the Potters at Godric's Hollow-- it was very likely that the Scroll could sense that in him.
The Fat Lady coughed discreetly in her frame, and Harry came out of his reverie.
"Well--"
"I guess--"
"You first," Harry said.
Ginny chuckled and shook her head. "Do you know the password?" she asked. "I sort of wasn't listening when the prefects mentioned it at supper."
"Hermione'll hate to hear that." Harry grinned, and shuffled around in his pockets. "I wrote it down, somewhere-- Ah. Here." He glanced at the slip of paper and handed it to her, turning to give the password.
"Wait a moment." Ginny laid her hand on his good arm, stopping him. "Please," she said, "if your arm hasn't stopped bleeding by tomorrow morning-- or it gets any worse-- go see Madam Pomfrey. Please?" She looked very serious, and didn't look away until he nodded. "All right, then," she said, and let go.
"Kneazle," they said together, and the portrait swung open.
***
Ginny barely paused to say goodnight to Ron and Hermione, who were glaring openly at each other across Ron's chessboard, and went straight to the fourth year girls' dormitory. She needed some time to think, and not listen to the Amazing Bickering Duo. She had just spent nearly an hour in Harry's company and, aside from the rebellious flush of her cheeks and that silly thing where she nearly cried-- (Stupid, stupid, stupid thing to do, Ginny.) --aside from that, she really hadn't behaved badly.
I think.
The girls' dormitory was bright and cheerful, and full of the sound of girls laughing. Ginny pushed the door open, only to be promptly hit in the head with a flying plush dragon.
"She returns!" Dolores smiled. "We thought you'd got lost, or stuck in a trap stair, or abducted by Slytherins," she said.
"Good to see you were sending out a search party, then," Ginny said, picking up the fuzzy green dragon. "What's his name?" she asked as she tossed the toy back to Dolores.
Ginny heard a snicker from the first bed on her left, where two more of her roommates sat. Jillian Scott and Emily Westing were both Very Grown Up And Important, and Ginny tolerated them the way one ignores some particularly garish wallpaper.
Ann rolled her eyes, and patted a spot on the mattress next to Dolores and her. "I don't think he has a name," Dolores mused as Ginny sat down. "Poor old thing."
"He has to have a name," Ann declared. "It isn't fitting for a dragon to be nameless. The others would laugh at him."
"I agree," Ginny said solemnly. "Any ideas?" The girls thought for a moment.
Finally, Dolores gave a sly grin. "I know. His name is Charlie."
"Perfect," said Ann, smiling mischievously.
Ginny waited a beat before saying, "You're naming him after my brother?" Her friends nodded. "I'm somehow disturbed by this," she said, raising an eyebrow. Ann and Dolores had pestered her about Charlie for months after meeting him at the First Task, dropping hints that she should invite them both over to the Burrow the next time he was home.
"His name is Charlie, and that's that," Dolores said, hugging the dragon tight enough to make the button eyes bug out. "Anyway, where were you? You just ran off after dinner," she observed.
"Is everything all right?" Ann asked, concerned. "You seemed a little frazzled." It had been Ann, during Ginny's first year, who had noticed her gradual withdrawal, and it was she who woke Ginny up from the nightmares, still. Ginny had never told Ann the real reason behind her restless nights, but she seemed content not to press for details, for which Ginny was profoundly grateful.
"Everything's fine, Ann," Ginny said, very nearly meaning it. "I just had to meet with Dumbledore about something, and I almost forgot to go."
"About what?" Dolores asked. Erm. Good question.... Think fast, Ginny.
"Oh...." Ginny said vaguely, "Just something about my schedule." Inspired, she added, "I'm supposed to tutor someone this term, and I had to figure out when I could fit it into my class schedule." That's not completely a lie, anyway.
"Who are you tutoring?" Ann asked, grabbing a blanket and wrapping it around her shoulders. "And what subject?"
"Obviously not Charms," Dolores snickered. Ginny rolled her eyes. Honestly. Make one simple mistake with an Incendio charm, and you'll hear about it for the rest of your life.
"Very funny, Mejia." Ginny glared. "If you must know, it's History of Magic. And I think the student's in Hufflepuff."
Dolores wrinkled her nose. "Sounds thrilling beyond belief."
Ginny shrugged. "I really don't mind."
Their conversation was cut short by a sudden outbreak of high-pitched giggles-- Emily and Jillian were pouring over the latest issue of Witch Weekly, and had apparently found the results of the quiz they had taken entertaining.
"Ah, but it's good to be back," Ann said, smiling and shaking her head. And Ginny had to agree.