Disclaimer: Hmmmm…still not mine… Note to self: do something to rectify this situation

Ginny

Harry had been staying with us for about three weeks when the Hogwarts letters arrived. I was sitting in the kitchen, eating breakfast with Hermione, when the owl swooped in, our letters all attached to its leg. Hermione's face, I swear, actually paled as she reached for her letter – I didn't bother going for mine, as I felt it might detract from the gravity of the situation. She broke the seal, unfolded the letter – all with utmost dignity – read for about half a second, and then screamed.

She, of course, protests, that it was simply a little squeal of excitement (and that under duress) but I know better. After her 'little squeal', which could be heard at the other end of the house, I'm sure, she spent a couple seconds hyperventilating, before turning to me, and saying (really, really quickly),

"Merlin, you'll never believe this, Ginny, but, I can't believe Dumbledore, and Harry and Ron were always saying I would, but I never really thought, I mean there were loads of other candidates, but…" She took a breath. "Ginny, I'm Head Girl!"

I stared dispassionately at my cereal. "Really?" I said, sounding disappointed. "I was hoping Pansy would get it." Possibly one of the biggest lies I've ever told in my life, but it was worth it just to see the look on her face.

"Ginny, you can't be serious!" she sounded shocked and betrayed. I should feel guilty really, but instead I burst out laughing. I suppose I would have got a lecture at that point, had not Ron ran in at that moment, shouting something that sounded embarrassingly similar to "I'll save you!"

Apparently, you really could hear her scream at the other end of the house; turns out that I am the font of all knowledge.

Once Ron had been reassured that there weren't any evil villains attempting to kill us, and that the biggest danger we faced was, in fact, the pointy bit of Hermione's Head Girl badge, he sat down, in a mood. Honestly, you'd think he'd be pleased that, for once, our lives weren't actually in danger, but apparently not.

Ok, I admit, the fact that I was rolling around on the floor laughing at him may not have helped his mood, but what was I meant to do? He had come running in, every inch a hero, except for the fact that he was still wearing his old Martin the Mad Muggle pyjamas. If you were a Death Eater, and my brother, who can be quite a terrifying person (as I know from personal experience, after eating the last of the pumpkin pasties) had charged you wearing those pyjamas, would you be even the slightest bit scared? I thought not.

By the time I managed to pick myself up, Harry had come down as well (but he had the sense to realise that there hadn't been any Death Eaters). After congratulating Hermione and enquiring if I was quite recovered, he helped himself to some toast and sat down next to Ron, whose ears were still scarlet about the whole thing.

This was pretty much how we had spent the holidays – not doing much. It wasn't the most exciting summer I've ever had, but it was fun, just hanging out and talking. We did have the occasional conspiracy against the adults to try to find out what the order was doing, but, basically, I was kind of glad about the whole age limit thing. I didn't really want to risk my life, at least not just yet. Not that I'd ever let any of the others know that, but it was true nonetheless.

We decided to go to Diagon Alley the next day to pick up all our stuff. It was much the same as ever, except with 'Back to School' sales in most of the shops. I usually love shopping, but then again, usually, I'm in Hogsmeade with my friends, loitering in the expensive shops, salivating over stuff that I could never realistically afford, or buying as much from Honeydukes as I think my stomach could cope with. Best of all is the major discounts I'm entitled to at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes though. Not that Fred and George agreed to that without some persuasion (i.e. the threat of Bat Bogey Hexes).

Whereas now I'm buying stationary and wondering whether I need some new school robes, which isn't really that much fun. Especially as it means that the holidays will end soon. Not that I don't love Hogwarts – it's a great place. It's just hard to look forward to going back to homework and time management – things I've never been good at and don't plan to excel at this year, either. Mum must have noticed my not-exactly-joyous expression, because she said (after a long suffering sigh) –

"Ginny, if you're that bored, I'll get your books from Flourish and Blotts and you can entertain yourself somewhere else. In fact," she continued, surveying Ron, Harry and Hermione, "why don't I get all your books for you?"

"You sure?" I asked. I knew she'd say yes, but she likes us to ask – thinks it makes us sound polite or something. She nodded, as expected. "Thanks, mum." It is interminably boring to buy school textbooks, so I was laying on the politeness in the hope that she'd agree to do some other interminably dull activities, such as getting me a new quill.

Hermione apparently disagrees with my view point about buying textbooks, because, when given a choice between friends and bookshop, she didn't think very long. "I think I'll go with you," she said to mum. "You know, to help carry our books and maybe pick up some light reading."

"Only the six books, then?" Ron muttered, but she ignored him.

"We shouldn't be too long," mum said, and with that, she left for Florish and Blotts, Hermione trailing behind her.

"I don't know what you guys want to do, but I need some more owl treats for Hedwig," Harry said.

"Pet shop it is, then," Ron replied, "but only if you make Ginny promise not to feed Pig any." He looked depressed – Pig got even more hyper than usual after owl treats.

"I promise," I said, starting to walk towards the pet shop with them. "But I think he's cute when he's hyper." Which is true – he looks ever so sweet when he's dive-bombing anything in sight.

"It's not your room mum locks him in when he starts breaking things," Ron muttered darkly. "That's one Cannons poster I'll never see again."

"I'm sure he's really sorry about that," Harry said, unable to keep the laughter from his voice. It was pretty funny, actually – not that I would say that to Ron's face. But then –

"Potter," a cold voice interrupted out conversation. I looked up to find the source of the voice, only to see Draco Malfoy, proud winner of prick of the year since he'd been born. Probably since the womb, actually.

"What, no Mudblood?" he asked, sneering. "But then I suppose Weaselette isn't much better."

I think I'd be right in saying that all three of us shot venomous glares at him. "What do you want, Malfoy?" Harry asked, with no attempt to suppress his anger.

"Me?" Malfoy asked, his voice feigning surprise. "I don't want anything, Potter. I was just counting…" his voice trailed off, leaving silence until Harry spoke again.

"Counting what?" I think he knew that Malfoy would reply with something malicious, but I also know that Harry doesn't like to waste an opportunity to fight him.

"Well," Malfoy looked thoughtful, "there's your parents, of course – that's two – and Diggory makes three. Then there's your godfather – four." He paused then, to look Harry in the eyes – "Are you still angry with yourself about that one, Potter?" he asked, the innocent tone of voice belying the sneer of hatred and contempt on his features. "To be honest, we were all amazed you were dumb enough to fall for it."

Finally, Harry reacted.

Quick as a flash, Harry's wand was in his hand and pointed at Malfoy's temple. "Shut the hell up, Malfoy, or, so help me, I'll…"

"You'll what, exactly?" Malfoy interrupted. "Kill me?" He gave a short, humourless laugh. "There are more than thirteen witnesses here, Potter, which was enough to convict Black and he didn't even do anything."

Harry didn't move.

"Go on then," Malfoy urged. "Kill me. And spend the rest of your life in Azkaban, listening to the voices of everyone else you've killed."

"I haven't killed anyone!" Harry yelled, making everyone in the street who wasn't already gawking at us to turn and look. Suddenly, Harry's voice went quiet, but it was still filled with hatred. "That's the kind of twisted thing you do in your spare time, Malfoy." He paused, before repeating, this time, calmer, "I haven't killed anyone."

"You haven't killed anyone?" Malfoy sneered. "What about the four people I just mentioned? It's your fault they're dead." An exaggerated look of confusion appeared on his face – "Isn't that the same thing?"

"You bastard!" Harry yelled. He was visibly shaking. "You've got no fucking idea what you're talking about!"

Malfoy laughed. He obviously knew he had got to Harry and, merlin, how I hated him for it. "Who's next, Potter?" Malfoy asked, his head cocked to one side, seeming unbothered by Harry's wand. He grinned – "Hope it's the Mudblood."

And, suddenly, Malfoy had two wands pointed at his head. "You're sick, Malfoy," Ron spat, his hand gripping his wand so tightly that his knuckles were turning white.

Malfoy seemed unfazed by this. He must be bloody crazy not to have been scared with two wands pointed at him, particularly when those wands were held by people as volatile as Harry and Ron. I wasn't sure what to do – on the one hand, I didn't want to see my brother and his best friend murder someone, but on the other hand, it was Malfoy.

"Maybe it should be a Weasel," Malfoy said, reflectively. He seemed to like the idea. "Should really be several Weasels to bring them down from plague proportions to just vermin."

Deep breaths, I kept telling myself, take deep breaths. Then his eyes locked with mine and, you know how in books, people's blood runs cold? Well mine actually did. "Starting with Weaselette, I think; by rights, she should have died six years ago."

And, just like that, there was no dilemma in my mind; my wand was pointed at him as well. The bastard deserved everything he got. Unfortunately, Hermione didn't think so.

"Stop it!" she yelled, running towards us out of nowhere, hair flying all over the place. Obviously someone had thought to go to the bookshop and tell her and mum what was happening. If only they had done so a couple seconds later – I had been so close to finishing saying a good curse.

She reached us and stopped. "He's not worth it," she said, panting, shaking her head at us, her eyes imploring us.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, Mudblood?" Malfoy spat, venom in his glare.

She ignored him, looking at us still. "This is what he wants – you'll go to Azkaban if you do anything and then where would we be?" She was looking at Harry specifically, now. And I realised, disappointed as it made me, that she was right, as always. I lowered my wand.

"Come on, guys," I said. "He'll end up dead or in Azkaban by the time this war's over, anyway."

Malfoy laughed condescendingly. "You really think you'll win?" He smiled – "How sweet."

"No, Malfoy," I said calmly, surprising him. "I know we'll win." And I turned on my heel and left, the others following my lead.

"Then you're either dumber than you look or delusional!" Malfoy yelled after us, but we had won.

Just like we'll win this war.

Sorry about the slow update time and that, but had French oral and really should be preparing for German one. Not that anyone cares as there is a grand total of zero reviews – obviously should stick to parodies.

BUT NO! I've already planned this thing, so I'm going to write it and release it on a world of fan fiction undeserving of that level of cruelty.

Even so, just one little review would be nice, just so I know I'm not a total reject sob. (Note to self: there's no point appealing to the emotions of a target audience if there is NO audience even more sobs)

Yeah, it does get slightly more exciting in a couple chapters (gosh, I hear you say, do they do activities as thrilling as watching paint dry?) so hang on in there, little imaginary audience.