Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter belongs to JKR. I'm merely borrowing it.
Spoilers: Up through GoF, No OotP spoilers…
*Important Announcement*
I have an important announcement. (Well…duh, Katie…) I haven't even looked at this in forever, but I was just looking at how many reviews I have and it made me feel guilty. Part of the reason I haven't written anything is because my favorite character of all time was, sadly, killed off in the fifth book. I was, overall, very unhappy at how the whole book was. I felt that Harry had chronic PMS throughout the whole story, and, well, suffice to say, I was just upset. But now I'm back! (From outer space! Just walked in to find you here with that sad look upon your face- Bad Katie! No more 'I will Survive!') and I'm going to finish this story, if it kills me. I'm also going to edit what I already have written. I'll take what some of you said into account. For the most part, I'll leave the A/N's alone, because I like being able to look back at them, but some of the A/N's will probably change. Okay, I'll get on with it.
A/N: Hiya everyone! I'm really bored right now because our internet service isn't allowing me on line right now, which really kinda sucks…Anyway, since this little idea has been tossing around my nearly empty head for the past few days, I thought I'd start writing it. Now I'll stop blabbing and start the fic!
Harry Potter and the Trial of Sirius Black
Chapter One
Breaking into a cold sweat, Harry Potter sat up in bed, shaking. He had been dreaming about the Triwizard Tournament again. The words "Kill the spare!" echoed in his ears during the day and haunted his dreams at night. There was no escaping the horrible finality of Cedric's death and there was no denying the reality of Voldemort's return. Anyone who wasn't completely incompetent would have admitted the truth. Unfortunately, the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, was a complete and utter moron.
Harry looked at the alarm clock on the table next to the bed. Neither the clock nor the table belonged to him and neither did the bed. In fact, they, along with nearly everything in the room, were all hand-me-downs from his wretched cousin, Dudley, who wasn't known for being careful with his possessions, as everything in the room was broken in some fashion. Luckily, for Harry anyway, most things, such as the clock, were salvageable. Harry groaned when he saw the blinking red digits that read 4:00. He knew that it would take him ages to get back to sleep and most likely by the time he would have fallen asleep, his aunt would be ready to wake him up to start cleaning. He thought silently, 'I might as well get some homework done while I can.'
Harry rolled off his bed, reached under the loose floorboard beneath it and pulled out his Potions text, some parchment, a quill, and some ink. His Potions homework was nearly complete, and with any luck, he'd be able to finish it tonight. He set to work. An hour later, as he put the last piece of parchment back under the floorboard, he started to cough. His uncle rolled over in bed. Harry immediately tried to repress the cough, but that just made it worse. He muffled the sound with his pillow.
As he lay back in bed, he thought about his summer so far. It had been the worst summer ever. Not only did his so-called "relatives" confiscate Hedwig the moment he'd returned, but they had also intercepted every letter he had received from his friends, Ron and Hermione. Then they had the nerve to dictate letters to be written to his godfather. After all, if he wrote to Sirius and told him how the really treated him, the lot of them would have been turned into slugs ages ago.
When Harry had first returned from Hogwarts, he had found that the Dursleys had installed a huge metal door in place of the old one in his room. It was made of the newest kind of metal that was virtually impossible to break through. It was locked with a digital code, so it wasn't possible to pick the lock, either. Not only that, but the bars were back in his window, cemented deeper and three times as thick as the old ones. There was absolutely no way for anyone to reach him unless they used magic, but as no one had bothered the previous years, Harry didn't think anyone would now. Besides, it wasn't so bad, as he was let out during the days to do things for Aunt Petunia because he'd become more "docile", "You can see it in his eyes," she said.
Perhaps the worst thing about the summer was that Uncle Vernon had become more violent than ever. Apparently, the Ministry had written to the Dursleys about the Tournament, and they now considered Harry to be a murderer, hence the extra precautions with his room, and Vernon used violence to keep Harry "in line." So far, Harry had had his nose broken and had sprained his ankle twice, not to mention the numerous cuts and bruises he'd received and he'd only been home for a week. The most frightening part about all of this was how much Vernon enjoyed it. Even Aunt Petunia and Dudley were afraid of him when he became that violent. Lucky for Harry, Uncle Vernon was going away on a business trip for the next three weeks.
Unfortunately, Harry also seemed to be getting ill. No one else had noticed anything strange besides the fact that he hadn't been working as much, but he was definitely a bit under the weather.
Harry had just about drifted off to sleep, when he noticed that something seemed to be on top of his chest. His eyes snapped open and he grabbed his glasses of the table next to his bed, shoving them on the end of his nose. Harry sighed in relief. It was just Pig. Harry's eyes widened.
"Pig! What are you doing here?" he whispered incredulously. Then he rolled his eyes. "Look at me. I'm talking to an owl!" Harry carefully removed the letter from Pig's leg and unfolded it.
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Earlier that day:
Ginny Weasley, youngest of seven children, and only daughter of Arthur and Molly Weasley, was furious. Her mother had decided that it was about time that Ginny stopped "playing with the boys". She had "started to become a woman" and it was "high time she acted like one". That meant no Quidditch, no swimming, no roughhousing, nothing fun. Her mother had started teaching her to knit and cook and other "womanly" things. Those were the only activities she was allowed to do and Ginny hated it. She was slowly going crazy, wistfully watching her brothers outside as she knitted or cooked, etc. It was turning into the worst summer ever.
The worst part about it was that her brothers didn't realize that she wanted to play with them. They thought she'd just up and decided to stay inside and learn how to knit. They were dreadfully confused and kept inviting her to come, trying to wheedle and cajole her into joining them in a quick game of Quidditch. She yearned to say yes, toss her apron into the garbage, grab her broom, and run out after Ron.
It was always she and Fred vs. Ron and George, only Chasers, nothing else. Now there were only three players, so Fred and George shot on Ron, who was practicing to be Keeper. He was good; there was no doubt about that. He had to be. He was a Weasley; it was in his blood. The Weasley family got progressively better at Quidditch because they had all of their older siblings to pass on the knowledge of those that came before and their own knowledge. Even Percy was great at Quidditch, he just chose not to play at school. Ginny was better than all of them combined. At least, according to Fred, George and Ron.
Ginny loved Quidditch; it was one of her favorite things in the world. Ever since she had seen her first match, when she was three, she had been fascinated with it and it was her dream to become the first woman to play for England. It was a realistic goal, according to her brothers. After all, there were many wizarding laws about equal rights for women, and if she was good enough, and she tried out for a team, she could sue if they didn't let her on because of her gender. Not that she would, but it was nice to know.
That didn't seem very realistic anymore. Now that her mother had decided to take over her life, she would never play Quidditch again. But that didn't mean she had to like it. In fact, every night, Ginny would climb out her window and fly to the field behind her house to practice. After all, what could her mother do to her at school?
The only thing was, Ginny had to keep herself awake until her parents fell asleep. She had already read all of her books, and that was saying a lot. So she had started asking Hermione if she could borrow some books. Hermione was very eager to help and sent Ginny some with her new owl, Mercutio. The only thing she wanted in return was to borrow some of Ginny's novels. She was very curious to find the difference between muggle novels and wizard novels. Ginny was happy to oblige and sent some of her favorites off with Mercutio.
The only problem was, she'd finished the last of Hermione's books the night before. After all, she had a lot of free time. She spent all her time, besides that which she spent knitting and cooking, reading in her room. So now she had nothing to do. *Maybe* she thought *maybe I can write a letter… But who should I write to? *
Ginny didn't really have a lot of friends. Her closest friend was Hermione, who was really Ron's friend. She was a very shy person and everyone had bonded during her first year while she was under the influence of an enchanted diary, so she was very lonely. Her brothers were normally very good about this and they tried to include her now and then, but she was sure that they didn't really like it when she hung around them, so she didn't do that anymore. Occasionally, Fred and George would consult her about a prank, and rarely they asked her to join them, but she didn't blame them for not wanting her around.
Ginny thought to herself *Now who would want to get a letter from me? I've already written to Hermione. Colin's away, but he and I only have one thing to talk about and that's… Harry. What about…Harry? *
Ginny was always thinking of Harry Potter, if not consciously, he was always in the back of her mind. She was enthralled with his story and had been ever since she had first heard about him. The fact that a boy defeated the wizard that everyone feared most was so wonderful, that it belonged in a fairy tale. The first time she saw him, she felt a sort of connection to him. He looked absolutely nothing like the dashing boy she'd imagined, but she knew it was him anyway. Of course, she didn't think she was right, but she had this feeling.
When she found out Ron had become his friend, she was very excited until she realized that it was no use. She didn't want to impose on Ron's friendship because Ron was her best friend growing up and she knew that he didn't like sharing his friends. He had to share everything else and Ginny knew he was sensitive about this so she didn't want to ruin it. Of course, later she found it wouldn't have mattered anyway, because every time he looked at her, she blushed and lost her tongue.
She had gotten over that, but now she realized that Harry was uncomfortable around her because her brothers had told him about her crush on him. Originally, she really did have a huge crush on him. It wasn't her crush that made her blush; she would have blushed even if it hadn't been Harry. It was her affection, however, that made her put her elbow in the butter dish. Now, however, it had developed into something deeper. It had turned from a silly schoolgirl crush into a deep and unrequited love. She wasn't in love with Harry Potter the celebrity, she was in love with Harry Potter, the imperfect fifteen year old boy with serious self-esteem issues, who made up his divination homework, and who happened to be her older brother's best friend.
Getting back to the present, Ginny thought of all the reasons she shouldn't write to Harry, which we have already gone over. But then she thought *He hasn't written to Ron at all yet. What if something's wrong? Ron really hasn't noticed, but then, he's a guy. Guys don't notice things like that, do they? Besides, even if Harry has read Ron's letters, he doesn't get much other mail. The poor guy has a hard life with the muggles. Okay, I've decided. I'll write to Harry right now! *
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Dear Harry,
How are you? Is your summer going all right? The muggles aren't treating you badly, are they? I was just wondering because you haven't responded to any of Ron's letters and I was getting worried that something had happened. Of course, that's probably because you've been busy or something and it's really none of my business, but I can't help it. You're one of my brother's best friends and it takes Ron longer to realize if there's something wrong, so he won't have noticed your lack of reply. In a few more weeks, he'll wonder, and then he'll go to Mum or Dad. I would have, except Mum and I aren't on good terms right now and I don't want to worry Dad. So I would appreciate it if you'd send me a letter with Pig that says you're alive. You don't have to write anything else, and if you don't want me to write to you any more, that's okay. I'll see you at King's Cross on the 1st. Have a good summer,
Yours truly,
Ginny Weasley
Harry sat there stunned. Ginny Weasley cared enough to send him a letter. She was worried about him because he hadn't written to Ron. Guiltily, he realized how little he actually knew about the youngest Weasley. 'Well,' he thought, 'Now is as good a time as any to get to know her.' He picked up a quill and a piece of parchment and started to write.
~~~~~~~~~~
Dear Ginny,
Thanks for the letter. You're the first wizarding person I've heard from since I got home. It's always a relief because sometimes I wake up and think it's all a dream.
I'm fine, but the Dursleys have confiscated Hedwig and intercept all my letters from Ron and Hermione. Luckily, they're asleep right now. If you tell Ron to owl me at night, then there's a good chance I'll get his letter.
Don't be silly! Of course you can owl me. The more people who write me, the better, that way I'll be able to keep telling myself that the wizarding world isn't just a figment of my imagination. Just out of curiosity, why aren't you and your mum on good terms?
I'd better finish this up, the Dursleys are starting to wake up. Remember to send your letters at night. Hope your summer is going well.
Yours,
Harry Potter
Ginny looked up from the letter. He mind was whirring. *He wrote me back! He's okay! Those horrible muggles! He says I can write to him! * Her thoughts flitted from one thing to the next. She reread the letter for the third time, carefully placed it into a small cardboard box filled with newspaper clippings that had Harry in them, pictures she'd got from Colin and other things that pertained to Harry. Then she put the box into the space under a loose floorboard beneath her bed so none of her nosy brothers would find it. Her heart soaring, she jumped on her broom and flew a few laps around the field before returning inside. Perhaps the summer wouldn't be so bad after all!
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A/N: So, how did you like it? Good, bad, ugly? Tell me please! Near the end, my Internet came back. I've been writing since like four o'clock and now it's ten. Damn! Today was the last day of April vacation! I have to go to school tomorrow! I'll write more after school probably. It's going to be a H/G romance obviously. My parents were watching the Bruins second game in the playoffs. They're playing the Canadiens. What kind of name is that, anyway? They need to be more original. My parents are very loud when they watch hockey. The Bruins won, by the way. Go Bruins! The Red Sox won both of their games today, too. My mum was wicked disappointed because she had to go bring my brother to get his MRI on his knee. He hurt it playing lacrosse on Wednesday. I should probably shut up now and go post this. I think I will…Ttfn! Pllleaaaaaase review! I beg of you! Sirius will appear in the next chapter or so. There'll be some Snape and some Remus too! Stay tuned! Ttfn!
~ Kranberries
Updated A/N: Okay, I've fixed a few of the plotholes and some of the OOC-ness. Harry no longer immediately likes Ginny and the Dursleys have a better reason to mistreat Harry. The reason Mrs. Weasley is OOC is explained in the next chapter.