I Wished For You Once
Chapter Three
"It's not anything permanent, Miss Weasley, so if I were you I'd stop fretting about it."
"But Madam Pomfrey," Ginny said pleadingly, "it's interfering with my flying. Yesterday I almost crashed to the ground and this afternoon I collided onto Jack Sloper. And we're playing against Slytherin on Saturday!"
Madam Pomfrey set the brass instrument she had been holding down and regarded Ginny witheringly. "If you weren't bent on participating in such dangerous games, you wouldn't have this problem at all."
Ginny knew that arguing this point was futile—Madam Pomfrey had always shaken her head at Quidditch, as she'd had a number of patients with Quidditch-related accidents in the hospital wing.
"Can't you do anything about it, though?" Ginny asked worriedly.
Madam Pomfrey picked up the instrument—it was shaped like a tube with a cone-shaped thing on top, upon which a glass disk was fixed—and once again held it over Ginny's right eye. "It's a condition that will heal itself," she said as she stretched the skin around Ginny's eyes and peered through the cone. "No problem here either. I could give you a potion to lessen the pain in your head, but I doubt it will do any good."
"When do you think I'll be able to fly normally again?"
"In a few weeks, perhaps. With a lot of flying, so that your head will get used to it," Madam Pomfrey added, almost reluctantly.
Ginny sat up straight, grinning. "So you'll recommend me playing Quidditch more often to cure this?" she asked hopefully.
"I said flying, not playing Quidditch," Madam Pomfrey snapped. "And no, I won't give you special permission to have the Quidditch pitch all to yourself. In fact I'd say you keep off the pitch till you get tired of the game completely."
Ginny stared at Madam Pomfrey, her grin faltering. Surely she was only joking? She, Ginny Weasley, give up Quidditch for a mere headache?
Ginny suddenly felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. In any case, how am I going to play Quidditch well in this state? she wondered.
Madam Pomfrey let Ginny go after a while, giving her a bottle of potion to take before the match on Saturday. However, Ginny felt hardly any better than when she came to the hospital wing that evening. Every step she took as she walked back to Gryffindor Tower was painfully slow; she was sure to find her teammates there, looking hopeful, asking whether Madam Pomfrey had found an antidote to her headache and double vision. She couldn't let them down, not when they all trusted in her own assurance that she'd be able to help Gryffindor win, even in her condition. Not when Harry trusted her so much that he stood up for her....
Ginny shook her head. It's not just about Harry, she told herself firmly. Practice today had been only a slight improvement from yesterday's and she doubted that it was enough to beat the Slytherins on Saturday. And it's all crapped up because of me, Ginny thought grimly. We weren't like that before I got hit by that bloody Bludger. No, make that bloody Malfoy. Her other teammates had been concerned, but they couldn't take her out of the team now. She knew Katie was now inwardly wishing she had taken a reserve Chaser.
Ginny went into the common room quietly. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were sitting on the armchairs by the fire, barely looking up from a deep conversation. Her roommates were on one of the long study tables, no doubt doing the Potions essay due tomorrow. The rest of the Quidditch team, except for Katie, was on the carpeted floor, hushing from their talk as Ginny approached them.
"What did Madam Pomfrey say?" Natalie asked.
Ginny shook her head in defeat. "She said it'll heal itself in time...it won't be long," she added quickly, seeing her teammates' shocked faces. "It'll be just a matter of weeks, apparently..."
"Yeah, but the match is two days from now," said Andrew.
Don't you think I know? Ginny almost snapped out loud. Taking a calming deep breath, she held up the bottle of potion Madam Pomfrey had given her. "This is supposed to lessen the pain."
"Oh, good," said Andrew.
It was a good thing that Ginny decided to leave out the "I doubt it'll do anything good" part; her teammates looked satisfied enough at her news. Sighing heavily, she headed to her dormitory, took out her parchment, quill, and books, and headed back to the common room to join her friends.
"That potion's no good, huh?" Cathy asked.
Ginny was glad her roommates understood better. "No," she said glumly, spreading out a blank parchment in front of her. "It's a wonder Madam Pomfrey still gave it to me. Are you all done with your essays?"
Agnes took out her three-feet parchment, which was three-quarters filled already. "Almost. Took us all evening."
"Damn. I'll have to stay up all night writing it."
Jane waved her parchment in front of Ginny. "Want to borrow?"
Ginny snorted, remembering the last time her Potions essay looked like one of her roommates'. "No, thanks. I'd rather do it on my own."
Jane, Agnes and Cathy looked at each other, rolling their eyes.
The common room emptied as the night deepened. At eleven o'clock, Ginny's roommates pleaded sleepiness and headed upstairs. By half-past eleven, Ginny guessed that there were only half a dozen people left, judging by the low murmurs behind her. She, meanwhile, struggled to be awake to finish the Potions essay.
Ginny was still lacking five inches when something caught her attention.
"...Resuming D.A., I always thought it's a good idea..."
Ginny's quill stopped above her parchment. It was Hermione. Ginny strained her ears harder. It was her brother who spoke next.
"I think it's a good idea," Ron said a bit uneasily.
Ginny expected Harry to speak next, but there was only silence.
She carefully turned around on her seat. Harry, Ron and Hermione were still on the armchairs by the fire. The only other person in the room was Neville Longbottom who, like Ginny, sat arrested on his seat, listening to the three.
Harry was the first who noticed. He looked up at them sharply, but neither looked away.
"W—well...it's okay if Neville and Ginny hear, right?" said Hermione. "I mean, we're all part of it..."
Neville stared at Hermione for a moment, and then spoke up. "I think it's a good idea, too."
Ginny expected Harry to stubbornly shake his head—which was exactly what he did.
"We had D.A. last year because Umbridge didn't teach us anything," said Harry. "We get on well with Professor Shacklebolt, we don't need D.A.—"
"It's not the competency of the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor that's in question now," Hermione said patiently. "It's—it's the situation around us—"
"The Order is working on it," Harry said with finality. Ginny, however, noticed a certain bitterness in his words.
For a while, the five of them didn't say anything. Ginny had tried to forget about the incident in the Department of Mysteries—it was no use dwelling on it. But now that they were all here, save for Luna Lovegood, it was as though they were all together again, with one mission.... They all knew what happened last June...what they found out...who they saw, and who died...
...And she saw Harry, eyes aflame, with a terrible fury emanating from him, chasing after that woman who killed Sirius....
"So you're just going to stand back and let the Order do all the work?" Ginny spoke up so suddenly that she surprised even herself. "I'd have expected a lot more from you."
Harry looked up again sharply; this time, he fixed a steely gaze on Ginny, as if daring her to speak.
"What are you talking about?" he asked coldly.
"I'm only saying that just because the Order is well-established now doesn't mean you don't have to recall D.A. anymore," Ginny said calmly. She glanced at Ron, Hermione and Neville; they were all staring at her, mouths agape. "And I'm not talking about revenge either—"
"This isn't about Sirius," Harry interrupted. Each word was spoken with a hardness Ginny had heard many times before. His voice was dangerously close to rising.
Ginny bit the insides of her mouth. Of course Harry would deny it. He was looking at her, his eyes narrowed. There was a glint in them that almost scared her.
She decided to remain calm. Taking a deep breath, she went on. "Put it this way, Harry. It's not about anything but giving the rest of us tips on how to defend ourselves out there. It's more imperative that you teach us how to now. It's all there is, nothing more."
She said all of this without breaking contact with Harry's icy ones. Ginny knew that she had lied; she knew that there was a deeper reason as to why Harry didn't want to resume D.A. But she didn't say it aloud. That would have to wait.
It was Harry who first looked away. His gaze fell onto the fire; his chest rose and fell in quick successions as though simply thinking of the D.A. tired him.
"Harry—" Hermione began, but Harry had stood up, snatching his books.
"I'm going."
Without another word, and without looking at any of them, Harry made his way up to the sixth-year boys' dormitory, leaving Ginny, Hermione, Ron and Neville staring after him.
Before Ginny knew it, it was Saturday.
Last year, when she replaced Harry as Seeker for Gryffindor, she was unable to eat before the match.
This year, it was worse. If she couldn't eat before, she wanted to throw up badly now, even if there was nothing inside her stomach. Maybe I'd just hurl everything up, including my guts, she thought. Her plate lay empty in front of her. And then they'd carry me off to the hospital wing. The team would move to postpone the match. But Madam Hooch wouldn't have it. And besides, I'm going to face Slytherins if it's the last thing I do, and even if they start singing "Weasley Is Our Queen".
"I'm telling you, it's times like these when you just have to do things for this one to make her move," Ginny vaguely heard Jane saying. Jane was already placing bacon on Ginny's plate.
"Not hungry," Ginny mumbled.
"You need it," Cathy insisted.
"I'd be dizzy on air if I eat."
"You'd faint on air if you don't," Jane said pointedly.
Sensing defeat, Ginny reluctantly forked a strip of bacon and placed it into her mouth. She might as well have chewed on her napkin. As she did, she cast a surreptitious glance to her left. Ron and Hermione sat side-by-side, making polite conversation with Harry, who sat in front of them. Ron seemed a lot less edgy before the match than last year. Meanwhile, Harry ate his breakfast slowly, apathetically, just as he did the last time she watched him.
But he didn't look her way this time. Neither did they speak to each other since Thursday night. Come to think of it, since then, she never saw Harry act the way he always did around Ron and Hermione anymore.
For some reason, the gnawing sensation in her stomach seemed to worsen. She looked back at Jane, Cathy and Agnes distraughtly. "What's wrong with me?"
"Beats the hell out of me," said Jane. "You were desperate to remain on the team just last Wednesday."
"Now it's like you want to back out," said Agnes.
"I still don't," Ginny muttered.
"I knew it," said Jane, smiling impishly. "I knew that Bludger did something worse to your head."
Ginny normally would have retorted, but she found that she didn't have the energy left to do so. "Maybe you're right," she said weakly. And then, "I need a drink. Chocolate. Make that two mugs." I should have asked Fred and George to smuggle Firewhiskey last night.
Ginny drank the potion Madam Pomfrey had given her in the Gryffindor locker room. Throwing the bottle aside, she fell back on one of the benches, feeling dizzy.
"You all ready?" Katie asked.
"Ready!" Natalie yelled enthusiastically.
"You bet we are," said Jack.
"Ginny?" asked Katie.
Ginny forced an excited look and gave her a thumbs-up.
"No more headaches?"
Ginny shook her head.
"Great. All right, huddle up," said Katie, motioning for everyone to form a circle around her. Ginny dragged herself to the others. "I know the last two practices weren't as good as we had expected"—Ginny felt her ears grow warm as she looked at her feet—"but we've always been good, we've done better than our best...."
Oh, save it for the next game, Katie, Ginny thought, not hearing the rest of Katie's speech. Then, mentally slapping herself, she thought, No, I am going to be good at this...so good that the Slytherins won't know what hit them.
"By the way," asked Andrew, "who's the new commentator?"
"Some Ravenclaw bloke named Michael Corner," said Katie offhandedly.
Ginny looked up, eyes wide. Ron and Harry stared at her.
It's a premonition, Ginny thought, staring back, horrified. This isn't going to be good.
Notes: Quidditch match and a talk coming up. :-)