Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, places, etc. They all belong to JK Rowling. If I did own Harry Potter and any of the characters from the books, they would all be less entertaining, less well-known, and all about the Weasley twins, especially George.
Author's Note: I know Ginny's a bit off character here, but I picked up from the first book a sense that Ginny had been looking forward to this for a long time. The whole 'grown women do this' thing is really inspired by my personal experiences. See, I'm only a freshman and it seems that the second you step onto the high school side of the school, it's all 'high school girls do this' and 'that is so middle school'. But Ginny won't be this way forever. After the first few weeks, you really start to see that you don't have to do this or stop doing that. After all, no one likes a freshman with an ego. I really see first years at Hogwarts like the freshmen of the magical world, especially for wizard children. And eventually Ginny'll find out that no one likes a first year with an ego. Just give her time.
Red Cover, Red Hair, Red Tears…
Red Year
By Weasley Gurl
Chapter 2: My Scarlet Chariot
It was scarlet, Ginny's own chariot into a new life, a life she had wanted forever. It was scarlet, and it spewed steam in great poufs out the top of the equally scarlet tower which adorned its front end. It was scarlet, and on it were written in curvy writing the words Hogwarts Express.
Ginny stood with her mother, barley restraining herself from simultaneously collapsing and making a mad dash for the steam engine in front of her. It was just as she had dreamed; and rightly so, since she had seen this train every year since before she could remember. Bill had climbed aboard and become Head Boy, Charlie had followed and in his turn come out a Quidditch Captain and master of dragons, Percy and Fred and George had all entered it, and all had returned eagerly awaiting the return of that scarlet engine. Ron had left only last year, and come back the best friend of a historical figure. And this year, it was her turn. It was her fiery engine, her black boarding steps, her steam. And there was something different in the air this year, and the smoke seemed to form special and more intricate patterns than in years before, and suddenly, Ginny felt a fresh surge of pride, and joy, and triumph. This was her year.
She clutched her trunk in a death grip that no manticore would have been able to escape and grinned so broadly that she though her face might split in two. Her mother swooped down on her, engulfing her in a powerful hug and muttering about her baby. Ginny didn't mind, for today was her day, and if her mother wished to call her a baby one last time, so be it. After all, today was her last day as a baby. When her mother next saw her, she would not be little Ginny Weasley who sits with her mother and knits while her brothers are away at school, but Virginia Weasley, changed girl, no, that wouldn't do: changed woman. Her grin broadened; she couldn't wait another second.
Mrs. Weasley pulled away reluctantly, her eyes tearing and her grip lingering just a second longer, then turned to each of her sons in turn. Ginny faintly heard mention of Ron, and Harry, but for the first time that summer, she paid it no mind. She was bobbing on the balls of her feet, George's old sneakers collapsing and reforming as the high tops met ankle and parted again. Another second, another, then-
"Well, then," said Mrs. Weasley, her voice croaking and her eyes puffy, "You be good, and study hard. And Ginny, I love you."
"You too, Mum," said Ginny distractedly as she bobbed up one last time and kissed her mother's cheek. 'After all,' she thought, 'I won't be doing that once I've become a changed woman.'
And at that point, Ginny Weasley lost every bit of her self-control and dashed off to the train. She was leaving behind childish things and trading them in for texts of foreign theories and sports played by seventeen year olds. She was leaning and leaning and suddenly she realized that she was ready to jump the fence. She was mature, and independent and-
"Need help with that trunk, sister mine?" It was Fred. Fred and George, George and Fred, Weasley twins and Ginny's ankle weights. How could they expect her to be independent and allow them to carry around her trunk as if she were some hopeless, helpless… child?!
Ginny bit her lip and threw back the thought of glaring at them just as easily as she threw back a clump of red hair over her shoulder. 'After all, women don't glare. Mature women toss their hair and sniff haughtily as if it were obvious that they were no weakling child. I'm so getting the hang of this.' Ginny threw her head to the side and balanced her free hand unnecessarily on her hip, then sniffed haughtily, or at least tried to sniff haughtily. She sneezed: a great blast which she was positive the group of fifth years a few feet off had heard. 'Darn, stupid, allergies!'
And of course her loving brothers laughed in her face, as she blushed a deep scarlet in a mixture of fury and humiliation. Ginny grabbed her trunk fiercely and heaved in up the steps, throwing it into the first empty compartment she saw. She immediately reached into the pockets of her Muggle jeans and pulled out the old diary; it's black cover felt somehow right in her hands and she opened it gently and retrieved writing utensils from her trunk. It was on July the 16th where Tom happened to pop up on this day, and she immediately scribbled down her thoughts. She stopped, paused for a second, awaiting his reply. Suddenly her black ink seeped back up through the pages in reformed words just screaming for her to read them.
'I see you're ready for a big change, then.'
Ginny sighed, then immediately checked herself. Sighing was not permitted unless it was in flirtation. That's how it went in all the witching hour soaps on the WWN. No one ever sighed in frustration there.
'Of course I'm ready, Tom. Don't you see what I'm telling you?! I'm going to Hogwarts and I'm not going to be a kid anymore! I'm simply bouncing with excitement. Were you, when you went to Hogwarts?'
It took longer for him to respond, and Ginny wondered faintly if maybe Tom hadn't gone to Hogwarts. But that was impossible. After all, all the best and brightest of the magical community went to Hogwarts and Tom was certainly bright.
'I was in the same state exactly. It looks like not much has changed since I left school. When you get there, you'll have to check some things for me, and I'll tell you some of my memories from school. I could show you some exciting places, Ginny.'
Ginny squealed with excitement and this time didn't bother to stop herself. Exciting. He had said it: the magic word. And there was no way Ginny was letting adventure away from her. Excitement was very grown-up. Children never did exciting things.
Suddenly the compartment door slid open and George walked in, closely followed by Fred. Ginny promptly shut the diary and looked at them, silently asking what they wanted.
"'Ve you seen Ron anywhere?" Fred asked, shooting an annoyed glance in the direction of her diary.
"We can't find him or Harry anywhere and Hermione Granger's looking for them," finished George, looking nervously towards the hallway. "I think she might be a bit, well… ticked at them, to say the least. She thinks they're either hiding from her or they've gone off to do something odd to Malfoy."
"No," said Ginny, "I haven't seen either of them. Try the other compartments."
George shrugged and turned around and Fred reached over to ruffle Ginny's fiery hair. "You're finally going, kid. We'll have to show you a toilet or two, spend some time showing you the sights." He grinned and tossed her a Fillibuster Firework from his pocket, winking as he closed the door.
Ginny couldn't help but smile. The twins both understood what she had gone through. After Percy had left for Hogwarts, they had both waited just as anxiously for their turn as Ginny had for hers. She looked at the firework, but suddenly her grin melted into a look of horror as she noticed the fuse had nearly reached the detonation point. It went off in a blast of lights, singing her eyebrows and the tips of her hair. She ruffled and huffed out a great sigh, a 'should have known' sigh, then returned to the diary which, she noticed, had not a mark from the explosion.
July 16th
Fred is a butt.
Really? I never knew you came from such an unusual family.
He gave me a firecracker and it blew up in my hand. Honestly, Tom, he's such a boy!
Ginny? I'm a boy.
Oh, but you're not a stupid boy, though, Tom. You understand me. This diary is the best-
Wait! I meant to ask you, why didn't the diary have any markings from the firework? It blew up right on top of it.
One of my many secrets, dearest Ginny. All of which will be revealed to you in time, when you are ready.
Author's Note: I know Ginny's a bit off character here, but I picked up from the first book a sense that Ginny had been looking forward to this for a long time. The whole 'grown women do this' thing is really inspired by my personal experiences. See, I'm only a freshman and it seems that the second you step onto the high school side of the school, it's all 'high school girls do this' and 'that is so middle school'. But Ginny won't be this way forever. After the first few weeks, you really start to see that you don't have to do this or stop doing that. After all, no one likes a freshman with an ego. I really see first years at Hogwarts like the freshmen of the magical world, especially for wizard children. And eventually Ginny'll find out that no one likes a first year with an ego. Just give her time.
Red Cover, Red Hair, Red Tears…
Red Year
By Weasley Gurl
Chapter 2: My Scarlet Chariot
It was scarlet, Ginny's own chariot into a new life, a life she had wanted forever. It was scarlet, and it spewed steam in great poufs out the top of the equally scarlet tower which adorned its front end. It was scarlet, and on it were written in curvy writing the words Hogwarts Express.
Ginny stood with her mother, barley restraining herself from simultaneously collapsing and making a mad dash for the steam engine in front of her. It was just as she had dreamed; and rightly so, since she had seen this train every year since before she could remember. Bill had climbed aboard and become Head Boy, Charlie had followed and in his turn come out a Quidditch Captain and master of dragons, Percy and Fred and George had all entered it, and all had returned eagerly awaiting the return of that scarlet engine. Ron had left only last year, and come back the best friend of a historical figure. And this year, it was her turn. It was her fiery engine, her black boarding steps, her steam. And there was something different in the air this year, and the smoke seemed to form special and more intricate patterns than in years before, and suddenly, Ginny felt a fresh surge of pride, and joy, and triumph. This was her year.
She clutched her trunk in a death grip that no manticore would have been able to escape and grinned so broadly that she though her face might split in two. Her mother swooped down on her, engulfing her in a powerful hug and muttering about her baby. Ginny didn't mind, for today was her day, and if her mother wished to call her a baby one last time, so be it. After all, today was her last day as a baby. When her mother next saw her, she would not be little Ginny Weasley who sits with her mother and knits while her brothers are away at school, but Virginia Weasley, changed girl, no, that wouldn't do: changed woman. Her grin broadened; she couldn't wait another second.
Mrs. Weasley pulled away reluctantly, her eyes tearing and her grip lingering just a second longer, then turned to each of her sons in turn. Ginny faintly heard mention of Ron, and Harry, but for the first time that summer, she paid it no mind. She was bobbing on the balls of her feet, George's old sneakers collapsing and reforming as the high tops met ankle and parted again. Another second, another, then-
"Well, then," said Mrs. Weasley, her voice croaking and her eyes puffy, "You be good, and study hard. And Ginny, I love you."
"You too, Mum," said Ginny distractedly as she bobbed up one last time and kissed her mother's cheek. 'After all,' she thought, 'I won't be doing that once I've become a changed woman.'
And at that point, Ginny Weasley lost every bit of her self-control and dashed off to the train. She was leaving behind childish things and trading them in for texts of foreign theories and sports played by seventeen year olds. She was leaning and leaning and suddenly she realized that she was ready to jump the fence. She was mature, and independent and-
"Need help with that trunk, sister mine?" It was Fred. Fred and George, George and Fred, Weasley twins and Ginny's ankle weights. How could they expect her to be independent and allow them to carry around her trunk as if she were some hopeless, helpless… child?!
Ginny bit her lip and threw back the thought of glaring at them just as easily as she threw back a clump of red hair over her shoulder. 'After all, women don't glare. Mature women toss their hair and sniff haughtily as if it were obvious that they were no weakling child. I'm so getting the hang of this.' Ginny threw her head to the side and balanced her free hand unnecessarily on her hip, then sniffed haughtily, or at least tried to sniff haughtily. She sneezed: a great blast which she was positive the group of fifth years a few feet off had heard. 'Darn, stupid, allergies!'
And of course her loving brothers laughed in her face, as she blushed a deep scarlet in a mixture of fury and humiliation. Ginny grabbed her trunk fiercely and heaved in up the steps, throwing it into the first empty compartment she saw. She immediately reached into the pockets of her Muggle jeans and pulled out the old diary; it's black cover felt somehow right in her hands and she opened it gently and retrieved writing utensils from her trunk. It was on July the 16th where Tom happened to pop up on this day, and she immediately scribbled down her thoughts. She stopped, paused for a second, awaiting his reply. Suddenly her black ink seeped back up through the pages in reformed words just screaming for her to read them.
'I see you're ready for a big change, then.'
Ginny sighed, then immediately checked herself. Sighing was not permitted unless it was in flirtation. That's how it went in all the witching hour soaps on the WWN. No one ever sighed in frustration there.
'Of course I'm ready, Tom. Don't you see what I'm telling you?! I'm going to Hogwarts and I'm not going to be a kid anymore! I'm simply bouncing with excitement. Were you, when you went to Hogwarts?'
It took longer for him to respond, and Ginny wondered faintly if maybe Tom hadn't gone to Hogwarts. But that was impossible. After all, all the best and brightest of the magical community went to Hogwarts and Tom was certainly bright.
'I was in the same state exactly. It looks like not much has changed since I left school. When you get there, you'll have to check some things for me, and I'll tell you some of my memories from school. I could show you some exciting places, Ginny.'
Ginny squealed with excitement and this time didn't bother to stop herself. Exciting. He had said it: the magic word. And there was no way Ginny was letting adventure away from her. Excitement was very grown-up. Children never did exciting things.
Suddenly the compartment door slid open and George walked in, closely followed by Fred. Ginny promptly shut the diary and looked at them, silently asking what they wanted.
"'Ve you seen Ron anywhere?" Fred asked, shooting an annoyed glance in the direction of her diary.
"We can't find him or Harry anywhere and Hermione Granger's looking for them," finished George, looking nervously towards the hallway. "I think she might be a bit, well… ticked at them, to say the least. She thinks they're either hiding from her or they've gone off to do something odd to Malfoy."
"No," said Ginny, "I haven't seen either of them. Try the other compartments."
George shrugged and turned around and Fred reached over to ruffle Ginny's fiery hair. "You're finally going, kid. We'll have to show you a toilet or two, spend some time showing you the sights." He grinned and tossed her a Fillibuster Firework from his pocket, winking as he closed the door.
Ginny couldn't help but smile. The twins both understood what she had gone through. After Percy had left for Hogwarts, they had both waited just as anxiously for their turn as Ginny had for hers. She looked at the firework, but suddenly her grin melted into a look of horror as she noticed the fuse had nearly reached the detonation point. It went off in a blast of lights, singing her eyebrows and the tips of her hair. She ruffled and huffed out a great sigh, a 'should have known' sigh, then returned to the diary which, she noticed, had not a mark from the explosion.
July 16th
Fred is a butt.
Really? I never knew you came from such an unusual family.
He gave me a firecracker and it blew up in my hand. Honestly, Tom, he's such a boy!
Ginny? I'm a boy.
Oh, but you're not a stupid boy, though, Tom. You understand me. This diary is the best-
Wait! I meant to ask you, why didn't the diary have any markings from the firework? It blew up right on top of it.
One of my many secrets, dearest Ginny. All of which will be revealed to you in time, when you are ready.