Disclaimer: none of it is mine. If it was, I'd go insane out of fear that
rabid fans would kill me for writing Harry OOC. Yes, I admit it. I can't
write the main character. Why do you think I write about OCs?
Harry-Potter-Boy-Who-Lived
I don't know the first time I heard the story of Harry-Potter-Boy-Who- Lived, but Charlie says he remembers Mum whispering it to me just a few hours after I was born.
To me, Harry-Potter-Boy-Who-Lived was immortal, our one-year-old savior, so one day when Mum mentioned that He would be about Ron's age, I was shocked. The cute little baby with a lightening scar disappeared. At first, I couldn't imagine him at all!
When Mum wanted me to do something, she would say, "Go on, Ginny. Harry Potter would do it," and then I'd obey her. I couldn't see Him as Ron – Ron had faults! Ron would lie about sneaking candy before meals and one time he stole Charlie's broomstick and when he tried to ride it he fell off and skinned his elbows! Harry-Potter-Boy-Who-Lived couldn't skin his elbows! Even the idea was preposterous!
For a while, I was disenchanted with the myth of the perfect Harry-Potter- Boy-Who-Lived. I was angry at him, but mostly at Mum, because she insinuated that He wasn't perfect, wasn't who I thought He'd be. But then, one day, I saw my Mum, the other perfect person in my world, scold Ron for something Fred and George had done, and then it clicked. If Mum had faults, then Harry-Potter-Boy-Who-Lived would have faults. But he would, of course, have fewer faults than everyone else.
I used to imagine Him just like the people I saw all around: with red hair and tons of freckles. I decided He would have brown eyes, like me, and be tall like Bill, my favorite brother, who I imagined Harry-Potter-Boy-Who- Lived would be just like. He was Head Boy, he was cool, and he always had something flattering or funny to say to me.
I was disillusioned once again when we went to the train station to drop Ron off for Hogwarts – his first year. When I saw the scar and I realized who That Boy was, I was shocked! Harry-Potter-Boy-Who-Lived couldn't have black hair and green eyes! He just couldn't!
And so, while Ron was enjoying his first year at Hogwarts, dodging giant, three-headed dogs and doing detentions with Snape, I was adjusting to the fact that Harry-Potter-Boy-Who-Lived didn't look like my family. By the time summer came again, I was once again, infatuated with my idea of what Harry-Potter-Boy-Who-Lived should be like. Even when He came to our house – our house! – to stay for part of the summer, because I was too shy to talk to Him, I held on to my romanticized ideas.
I know now that Harry-Potter-Boy-Who-Lived was horribly embarrassed by my obsession, but if He wanted me to stop, He should have left me down in the Chamber of Secrets. Or at least, He should have sent Ron through to get me instead. From that moment on, my head was filled with fantasies of Harry- Potter-Boy-Who-Lived saving me again, and again, and again. And so that phase continued until the middle of my third year at Hogwarts.
In my third year of Hogwarts, there was a Christmas Yule Ball, and I fully expected Harry-Potter-Boy-Who-Lived to ask me. I didn't realize that He might not think that same as I did about our non-existent relationship, so when I heard He asked Cho, I was crushed. I was horribly, terribly crushed! I was depressed and miserable. The only upside of the ball was that I met a very nice Ravenclaw boy named Michael Corner.
That summer, my family stayed at the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, and one night, for some reason, I decided I wanted to tell someone about how I'd been let down by Harry-Potter-Boy-Who-Lived. Unfortunately, the only convenient person around was Hermione Granger, who is nice, but not necessarily a good person to talk to about boys.
Nonetheless, I went to her, and poured out my heart. I told her about everything; from the first time I'd decided that Harry-Potter-Boy-Who-Lived was right for me, up until the Yule Ball. When she heard about that, however, she softened instantly. I guess we both had our troubles at the Yule Ball, so she was more than ready to give me advice.
"Ginny," she said, "I think that you've been thinking about Harry way too much. Obviously, you can't just forget about him, but why not just try to be friends with him? There's no way you can be his girlfriend if you're not friends with him, and maybe once you discover what he's really like, you'll find out that you don't really think you're right for him after all.
"You need to experience more; you shouldn't center your entire life on Harry."
I shrugged my shoulders weakly. Although I agreed with most of what Hermione was saying (I highly doubted I'd discover he wasn't right for me), it's not easy to let go of ten years of dreams.
"Let's make a deal," suggested Hermione, seeing I needed a bit more persuasion. "If you can forget about your Harry-related fantasies"—here she giggled—"for an entire year, I'll let you go back towhat you've been like around him for the past four years, although you may decide you don't want to go back."
I made the deal, and now it's the summer before my fifth year at Hogwarts. He's not Harry-Potter-Boy-Who-Lived anymore, he's Harry-Potter-Ginny's- Friend, and I like it that way. He went out with Cho for one date, and then they weren't together anymore. I don't know what happened, but I'm a little bit ashamed to say I'm glad that they broke up. Cho wasn't right for him anyway.
I think I'll always have a little part of me devoted to Harry – although, now that I know him better, I know he'd practically die if I told him that. I also know he'd fall over in a dead faint if I showed him the box I keep under the bed in my dormitory. It's filled with Harry Chocolate Frog cards, Harry posters, Harry newspapers, and anything else I was able to get my hands on for those ten years.
Ron shocked me when I mentioned Dean Thomas on the train ride back from Hogwarts, and he mentioned Harry right back at me. For the rest of the trip, I was in a state of shock. I hadn't thought about Harry and me – together – for so long! It was on that train ride that I realized with surprise that Hermione had been right when we'd talked at the beginning of the summer: I didn't think Harry and I were destined to be together anymore. If it's going to happen, it will happen, but if not, I'll still be happy, because I'm Ginny-Weasley-Girl-Who-Survived-Her-Unhealthy- Obsession-With-Harry-Potter-With-Personality-Intact. That title's a lot longer that Harry's is, but I like it, and I mean to keep it that way.
Harry-Potter-Boy-Who-Lived
I don't know the first time I heard the story of Harry-Potter-Boy-Who- Lived, but Charlie says he remembers Mum whispering it to me just a few hours after I was born.
To me, Harry-Potter-Boy-Who-Lived was immortal, our one-year-old savior, so one day when Mum mentioned that He would be about Ron's age, I was shocked. The cute little baby with a lightening scar disappeared. At first, I couldn't imagine him at all!
When Mum wanted me to do something, she would say, "Go on, Ginny. Harry Potter would do it," and then I'd obey her. I couldn't see Him as Ron – Ron had faults! Ron would lie about sneaking candy before meals and one time he stole Charlie's broomstick and when he tried to ride it he fell off and skinned his elbows! Harry-Potter-Boy-Who-Lived couldn't skin his elbows! Even the idea was preposterous!
For a while, I was disenchanted with the myth of the perfect Harry-Potter- Boy-Who-Lived. I was angry at him, but mostly at Mum, because she insinuated that He wasn't perfect, wasn't who I thought He'd be. But then, one day, I saw my Mum, the other perfect person in my world, scold Ron for something Fred and George had done, and then it clicked. If Mum had faults, then Harry-Potter-Boy-Who-Lived would have faults. But he would, of course, have fewer faults than everyone else.
I used to imagine Him just like the people I saw all around: with red hair and tons of freckles. I decided He would have brown eyes, like me, and be tall like Bill, my favorite brother, who I imagined Harry-Potter-Boy-Who- Lived would be just like. He was Head Boy, he was cool, and he always had something flattering or funny to say to me.
I was disillusioned once again when we went to the train station to drop Ron off for Hogwarts – his first year. When I saw the scar and I realized who That Boy was, I was shocked! Harry-Potter-Boy-Who-Lived couldn't have black hair and green eyes! He just couldn't!
And so, while Ron was enjoying his first year at Hogwarts, dodging giant, three-headed dogs and doing detentions with Snape, I was adjusting to the fact that Harry-Potter-Boy-Who-Lived didn't look like my family. By the time summer came again, I was once again, infatuated with my idea of what Harry-Potter-Boy-Who-Lived should be like. Even when He came to our house – our house! – to stay for part of the summer, because I was too shy to talk to Him, I held on to my romanticized ideas.
I know now that Harry-Potter-Boy-Who-Lived was horribly embarrassed by my obsession, but if He wanted me to stop, He should have left me down in the Chamber of Secrets. Or at least, He should have sent Ron through to get me instead. From that moment on, my head was filled with fantasies of Harry- Potter-Boy-Who-Lived saving me again, and again, and again. And so that phase continued until the middle of my third year at Hogwarts.
In my third year of Hogwarts, there was a Christmas Yule Ball, and I fully expected Harry-Potter-Boy-Who-Lived to ask me. I didn't realize that He might not think that same as I did about our non-existent relationship, so when I heard He asked Cho, I was crushed. I was horribly, terribly crushed! I was depressed and miserable. The only upside of the ball was that I met a very nice Ravenclaw boy named Michael Corner.
That summer, my family stayed at the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, and one night, for some reason, I decided I wanted to tell someone about how I'd been let down by Harry-Potter-Boy-Who-Lived. Unfortunately, the only convenient person around was Hermione Granger, who is nice, but not necessarily a good person to talk to about boys.
Nonetheless, I went to her, and poured out my heart. I told her about everything; from the first time I'd decided that Harry-Potter-Boy-Who-Lived was right for me, up until the Yule Ball. When she heard about that, however, she softened instantly. I guess we both had our troubles at the Yule Ball, so she was more than ready to give me advice.
"Ginny," she said, "I think that you've been thinking about Harry way too much. Obviously, you can't just forget about him, but why not just try to be friends with him? There's no way you can be his girlfriend if you're not friends with him, and maybe once you discover what he's really like, you'll find out that you don't really think you're right for him after all.
"You need to experience more; you shouldn't center your entire life on Harry."
I shrugged my shoulders weakly. Although I agreed with most of what Hermione was saying (I highly doubted I'd discover he wasn't right for me), it's not easy to let go of ten years of dreams.
"Let's make a deal," suggested Hermione, seeing I needed a bit more persuasion. "If you can forget about your Harry-related fantasies"—here she giggled—"for an entire year, I'll let you go back towhat you've been like around him for the past four years, although you may decide you don't want to go back."
I made the deal, and now it's the summer before my fifth year at Hogwarts. He's not Harry-Potter-Boy-Who-Lived anymore, he's Harry-Potter-Ginny's- Friend, and I like it that way. He went out with Cho for one date, and then they weren't together anymore. I don't know what happened, but I'm a little bit ashamed to say I'm glad that they broke up. Cho wasn't right for him anyway.
I think I'll always have a little part of me devoted to Harry – although, now that I know him better, I know he'd practically die if I told him that. I also know he'd fall over in a dead faint if I showed him the box I keep under the bed in my dormitory. It's filled with Harry Chocolate Frog cards, Harry posters, Harry newspapers, and anything else I was able to get my hands on for those ten years.
Ron shocked me when I mentioned Dean Thomas on the train ride back from Hogwarts, and he mentioned Harry right back at me. For the rest of the trip, I was in a state of shock. I hadn't thought about Harry and me – together – for so long! It was on that train ride that I realized with surprise that Hermione had been right when we'd talked at the beginning of the summer: I didn't think Harry and I were destined to be together anymore. If it's going to happen, it will happen, but if not, I'll still be happy, because I'm Ginny-Weasley-Girl-Who-Survived-Her-Unhealthy- Obsession-With-Harry-Potter-With-Personality-Intact. That title's a lot longer that Harry's is, but I like it, and I mean to keep it that way.