DURING

Colin's gone. Nobody knows where. Ginny isa bit worried. Tom told her not to be, he's sure that he'll be back for Transfiguration first thing in the morning, camera and all.

Ginny isn't so sure.

She hasn't told Tom this, which is unusual. She tells him everything. But sometimes Tom doesn't listen to her.

Not all the time. Just sometimes. But Ginny tells herself that that's all right. After all, he's really quite nice most of the time; he should be entitled to the odd grumpy mood every now and then. Merlin knows Ginny has plenty of them herself.

Colin still isn't back and it's morning break already. She's sitting with Hermione because Harry's still in the hospital wing and Ron . . . well, Hermione won't tell her where Ron is, which would normally annoy Ginny, because he is her brother and even if he's head over heels in love with Hermione, Ginny still matters, doesn't she?

Selfish prat, running off just when she wants to talk to him. And where is Colin?

Hermione isn't worried either. "He's probably in the hospital wing. There's a stomach bug going around, you know." Hermione isalways sensible at times like these. Ginny wishes she could be sensible about these things too.

A huddle of fourth years goes by, talking loudly about Mrs. Norris, who apparently doesn't blink even if you wave a fish under her nose. Ginny doesn't ask them how they know this. She doesn't really want to think about Mrs. Norris.

I was doing my homework that night, she tells herself firmly. I was . . . . somewhere, doing my homework. Yes. That's right. And last night I was . . . .

She stands in the corner of the courtyard, the light drizzle making her hair damp, staring at the ground and wishing she was sensible about these things. She doesn't know many people who black out at regular intervals. And don't tell anyone about it but a stupid diary that can't even bring itself to be worried about all the mad and creepy things happening around it. Tom's an idiot, she tells herself, and feels a bit better.

Hermione is staring at her rather oddly. "Ginny, are you all right? You don't look . . . yourself," she hazards.

Ginny opens her mouth to say – what?

"No Hermione, I rather think that I'm the one behind the attacks."

"Yes Hermione, I'm perfectly fine."

"Would you shut up and leave me alone?"

She closes her mouth and shrugs.

Hermione doesn't look convinced. "Do you want to go inside? It's a bit chilly out here and it would be awful to catch a cold at the beginning of the week, you might have to miss some classes."

Ginny wants to laugh, to throw her arms around Hermione and sob. But that sort of thing tends to put people off. So Ginny nods and Hermione leads her back into the entrance hall. As they stand near the marble staircase, surrounded by other students sheltering from the cold, a skinny third-year sprints down the stairs and shrieks, "Colin Creevey's been Petrified!"

The hall is suddenly filled with shouts and groans and questions. The messenger is quickly mobbed and hounded for more details. Hermione's hand flies to her mouth and she turns wide eyes on Ginny.

Ginny feels ill.

Hermione manages to say in a faltering voice, "I'm sure he'll be all right, Ginny."

Ginny doesn't want to say, "It's not him I'm worried about, Hermione. It's you. It's every other Muggleborn in the school. It's me, Hermione. Please curse me and save the world while you're at it."

She wonders if she's overreacting. There might be a perfectly logical explanation for the black-outs, the fits, the disappearances, the missing days, that red paint all over the place and the attacks. Hermione could probably explain all of it, given ten minutes, a star chart and Hogwarts: A History.

Ron appears through the crowd and Ginny has never been so glad to see him or so eager to slap him.

Hermione beats her to it, though. "Where have you been?"

Ron glances at Ginny and says, "I've, uh, been, you know, working." He stares fixedly at Hermione and waggles his eyebrows. Hermione sighs and rolls her eyes, obviously getting the message.

Ron turns to Ginny now and says, "Gin, you're as white as Nearly Headless Nick. What's the matter? You don't look well." He's got that casual-but-concerned look that their father gets sometimes, when he's worried but too manly to show it.

But Ginny can't say anything. What's there to say?

Wonderful, magnificent Hermione comes to the rescue again. "Colin's been Petrified, Ron," she says in a hushed voice.

Ron turns pale and his freckles stand out even more. He starts to make a movement with his arms, but stops. Ginny looks at him and he reaches out and touches her arm lightly. She nods and forces a smile. Hermione looks between them, probably lamenting the Weasley inability to verbally communicate.

McGonagall sweeps down the marble stairs and claps her hands once. Silence falls like an executioner's axe. Ginny wishes she didn't just think that.

McGonagall doesn't say anything, just surveys the students with a funny look in her eye. A small voice breaks the silences and asks, "Will he be all right?" It takes a minute for Ginny to realize that it's hers.

McGonagall looks at her for a moment and nods. The bell rings suddenly and everyone jumps. McGonagall sweeps off again without a word. Useless woman, Ginny thinks sullenly.

She feels Ron and Hermione exchange glances over her head. Ginny doesn't like them either, come to think of it. Sneaking off with Harry, ignoring her, telling her she's too young . . .

Ron touches her arm again and says with difficulty, "It'll be OK, Gin. He'll be OK."

Ginny doesn't ask him, "What about me? What if I did it?" She nods at him and walks off. She returns a minute later and Hermione hands her the schoolbag she's forgotten again.