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Chapter 2

    Ginny walked hastily down to the kitchen where she found Mrs. Weasley standing with her arms crossed. "Hi, Mum." She greeted, half-looking at her. The rest of her family was sitting down at the breakfast table. Ron was eating his bacon and eggs while Fred and George were looking at the new issue of Mad Hatter's Weekly while Mr. Weasley was skimming through the Daily Prophet.

     "My, you're up quite late," Mrs. Weasley stated dryly. Fred glanced up.

     "Watch out, Ginny. She's in one of her moods." he whispered—loud enough for Mrs. Weasley to hear him intently while she gave him a cold stare.

     "I got up early! I just, um, I couldn't find my favorite socks. The ones you gave me for Christmas, Mum!" she lied.

    George looked up and said, "But I thought you said they felt like fire slugs have inhabited your feet," just as Fred was taking a sip of coffee and then spit it out as he burst out laughing.

    Ginny granted them a look that read, you two just don't know when to stop, do you?

    Mrs. Weasley didn't change the livid look on her face which was noticed by the twins.

     "I think it's about time we get going to work!" said George.

     "Yes, it's a Friday after all. Lots of costumers today!" Fred agreed. They both disapparated out of the room to their joke shop Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

    Ron had finished enjoying his breakfast. "Mum, aren't you going to tell Ginny to clean up her glasses of water? She's treating the place like she's that little girl in the mooovie Dad took us to last Thursday." he said.

     "No, I'm not, Ron! Shut it!" she shouted, but also reminisced about the alien movie Signs.

     "Oh, that one was a very engaging!" Mr. Weasley was still very keen in his interest with Muggles. Of course, working in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts department, he felt a need (or desire) to "inspect" movie cinemas with his family even if Mrs. Weasley had long debated about the senseless scheme—"Your children and I have no place being there!"—"But Molly, it's a brilliant plan! And how many wizarding families ever get to experience it?"—Of course, Mr. Weasley took the initiative into convincing Mrs. Weasley to embrace the idea.

     "Do aliens really exist, Dad? Perhaps they could get rid of the gnomes--" Ron asked.

     "Ask me when I work for the Department of Mysteries," he replied sarcastically, "Well I better make a move on! Good-bye, dear!" he moved closer to give Mrs. Weasley a peck on the cheek, but she still didn't seem too inviting with her stoic expression, "Very well then! Cheerio!" he vanished.

     "Anyway, Ginny, I want you to clean everything up after you've had your breakfast." Mrs. Weasley said sternly.

    Ginny looked around and saw that she did leave a hefty amount of water glasses lying around the kitchen and she could see beyond through the hall, that there were a few more. What has gotten into me? she wondered. Perhaps it was the fact that ever since she got back home to the Burrow, there wasn't much to do except mope around and deal with the basics of life. Once in awhile, she and Ron would have Quidditch practice, but he suddenly established a curiosity for aliens and outer-space. She could recall a few times where Ron would whine about how he should have paid more attention in Astronomy. So Ron wasn't always available to chat with, especially when he was trying to make his own aluminum foil hats. Fred and George weren't around to entertain either, ever since they started their joke shop on Diagon Alley.

     "I'll just clean it up now," said Ginny. She picked up her wand, "Wingard--" she was about to cast until she noticed the stunned looks on Ron's and Mrs. Weasley's faces.

     "Underage magic!" Ron yelled and pointed.

     "Ginny, you know that's illegal!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed. "Or do you still think you're at Hogwarts? The house elves aren't coming to pick everything up after you either!"

     "I'm sorry! I just don't know what has gotten into me!" she ran upstairs to her room in tears. She was usually so strong too. A slight smile crept up on her face when she reminded herself of Cho Chang—who was notorious for crying over spilled potion. But Ginny was still uncomfortable with her modified ways. She looked into her vanity mirror and didn't see the usual strong and alert girl she was used too, but fathomed someone feeble and dense. Her outward appearance wasn't much of a change except for a tiny pimple appearing on the tip of her nose, but that was the least of her concern. Was she depressed or merely perplexed?