Disclaimer: Reviewer, exaggerated and slightly scary Darth Vader breathing I AM J.K. Rowling. crickets chirp. Aw man, thought SOMEONE would buy that. Fine, I have not and never will own Harry Potter or the rest of the characters, except in my lovely dreams where Draco is…never mind. This story will not make a profit at all because I am but a poor and lowly teenage writer, not a multi-millionaire by the name of Rowling. Life sucks, don't it? Necromancy and Me is my random creation.

August 5th, 1995.

In my room with a rather large textbook

(Excerpt from 'Necromancy and You'):

Sit cross-legged on a soft surface with your hands lying by your sides, palms up. Close your eyes and take three cleansing breaths, breathing in and out deeply while concentrating on channeling your power and aura that lies inside of you and clearing away the impurities. Light the lavender candles.

What a load of crap. Hey, Trelawney, your mother-ship awaits you. Cleansing breaths? Honestly, since when did magic require this? And are the aphrodisiac candles really necessary? It's not like I'm doing a bloody séance, except that I sort of am, and Jake will throw a fit if he finds out. Well, he DID want us to learn how to use our powers.

Speak the name(s) of the dead with which you wish to communicate out loud, and try to picture their faces.

I didn't know who I wanted to talk to. My family and friends are pretty much all alive. Then the perfect idea came into my head.

Repeat the incantation 'Nekros' in a strong, clear voice to complete the spell. Wait 10 seconds for desired results.

This is it, dear diary, the moment of truth. I can now see why those cleansing breaths might be a good idea once I begin the spell. I already checked with my super-hearing to make sure that everyone had already left for the Quidditch match that I decided against going. You know, it just occurred to me that the comment I made a few days ago about smelling Fred might not be totally off.

Well, here goes nothing. Note to self—DON'T PASS OUT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE SPELL!

Later

A gust of warm wind burst out of nowhere and a bright blue glow filled the entire room. I about nearly wet myself when two distinct shapes began to form. They never turned completely solid, only kept a ghostly quality the whole time. The man, who looked about 19 years old, had messy jet black hair and warm, hazel eyes. The woman beside him had long, deep red hair and familiar green eyes.

I suppose they were at the age that they had died.

Lily and James Potter. THE Lily and James Potter.

Unbelievable. I can't believe that spell worked!!

I was about to talk to the dead.

Lily didn't looked confused for very long, and was the first one to speak. "A Gifted One. Incredible." She smiled serenely.

James stood in silence, running his hand through his hair (a habit of Harry's I find endearing but quite irritating) and darting his eyes around my room. They finally settled on me.

Harry's father spoke.

"You've got to be shitting me!"

I bit my lip a little. What if they didn't want to talk to me? After Lily had expertly whacked James over the head for, what I could assume, his cursing, and James had finished whining childishly ("But Liiiiiiiiilyyyy….I didn't mean it!"), I introduced myself.

"Hello Mr. and Mrs. Potter. My name is Ginny Weasley ("Your future daughter-in-law," I added in my head). Yes, I am one of the Gifted. I just found out about it yesterday, and was seeing if I could really talk to the dead and it looks like I can and yeah…" I trailed off stupidly.

Lily just smiled wider.

"Hey Lils," James addressed his wife, "You always did want a daughter." He glanced at me, "She looks enough like you, all that red hair…" Lily glared at him, and then rolled her eyes.

"Don't mind him, he's a toddler trapped in a man's body."

"You know you love me."

"I suppose I do."

I smiled at the bickering young ghost-y couple. They were so cute together.

"Harry misses you so much, you know." I blurted out. It was the first thing I could think of.

"Yes, that son of ours, he has grown up quite nicely, don't you agree James?"

I blushed at the 'grown up quite nicely' comment. It was all sorts of naughty in my head. I couldn't help it!

James, unfortunately, noticed this.

"Ooo, would you look at that, Lils? Apparently, little Ginny here knows Harry quite well!"

I glared at him.

"I swear to Merlin, all the Potter men fall for women with red hair. It's inevitable. It's like a tradition. THAT'S MAH BOY!" He wiped a pretend tear from his eye and sniffed dramatically.

Drama Queen.

"Isn't Harry a bit young to have a girlfriend?" Lily asked in a motherly tone, despite her being only, in truth, about 4 years older than her son.

"'Course not!" James cut in. "I'd had several girlfriends by the time I was his age!"

Lily snickered. "Yes, well, you had quite the reputation of being Hogwarts' favorite man-sl--"

"Hey! Not in front of impressionable minds!"

"Hey!" I protested.

He chuckled. "Besides, I think that particular honor belonged to Sirius in our day."

"Too true, James. You wouldn't believe how many time Siri hit on me. Then you would get all jealous and snitty, which I found adorable."

James looked at me. "Enough about that, we must grill Ginny. So, what exactly IS your relationship with our son, Harry James Potter?"

It's a miracle in its self that Harry turned out so normal. As normal as one can get with insane parents, that is.

I concentrated on not turning bloody magenta (again), and asked my self why in the hell I wanted to bring them here in the first place. I have no idea.

"Well, I had a mad unrequited crush on him since I was 10 years old. He never was or will be my boyfriend. I sent him a valentine in my first year that involved the phrase 'His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad'. He saved my life when I was 11 and now spends his days avoiding me even though I don't like him…much….anymore!" I said all on one breath. Go me.

Then the horrible words replayed back to me in my head.

Why, Ginevra, WHY did you say that?

Note to self—Never talk.