Harry is still depressed, Hermione and Ron still live to bicker, and Ginny and Dean are still together—or are they? Ginny gets an important letter along the way to Hogwarts, which may turn things around for her, if she has the courage to speak up about how she feels, and if she figures out, how she feels. But will she even do it? Not yet unfortunately.

Chapter Thirteen.

Cauldron of Emotion

Ginny's point of view

The carriage bumped and jiggled around as we traveled, making me sick of the motion. Why did we have to travel this way? Why could we not just use a portkey or some other magical kind of transportation? And another thing, had it really been just under a week since Harry's birthday? And just under a week until my own? I had hardly seen him at all. And now, we were all headed back to Hogwarts, for a reason only Dumbledore, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and the rest of the Order know about.

And to make things worse for me, none of then would tell me why we were leaving Number Twelve Grimmauld Place so soon. Not that I was complaining, mind you. You could get the foulest temper, just by looking at that place for Merlin's sake, not to say what you will get living there day after day, week after week. And that ghastly portrait of that horrid Mrs. Black!

I shuddered. That was one part of Grimmauld Place that I was glad to be leaving. Actually, I would not miss it at all. Well, maybe I would miss some aspects of the house. Well, actually the only part of Grimmauld place that I actually would miss, was that brook in the enchanted back area, where I had spent so many hours with Sirius last year, and where I had spent much of my time pouring out to him my emotions about a certain black haired boy who had had a special place in both of our hearts, but who now had to find his special spot only in my heart—Harr— No!

I stopped myself, stunned at the direction that my thoughts were headed. Surly I could not still care for him in that way, now that I had a boyfriend, now, could I? Could I? I was very puzzled. My thoughts, and eyes for that matter, kept on straying to the sleeping form in the corner of the carriage. For in the corner, of the carriage—lay the sleeping form of Harry Potter. And that confused me… a lot. And not for the first time in my life either, mind you.

And anyways, I had sworn to myself to get over my childish crush on him a long time ago. Besides, it is not as if he would fancy me… now would it?

Unbidden, the memory of a warm day passed through my mind. And Harry had seemed so happy then… at least until he had shared with me the prophecy… which said that he had to get rid of Voldemort— or Tom as I called him—by himself, if—and always if—Voldemort, Tom, were to be brought down from his self made powerhouse.

My thoughts fell silent again. Thankfully. I would simply die from embarrassment if any of my brothers—especially Ron—were to find out about my strange dilemma. Well maybe I would not mind if Bill knew. He would understand, I am sure about that.

"What's the matter, Ginny?" I started and looked up from my journal, not diary, I could never write in one of those after my first year. I had been pretending to write in it, my quill held limp in my hand. Well anyways, I looked up to find a bleary eyed Ron looking at me with a queer expression on his face.

"Noth—nothing, Ron." I answered as carelessly as I could muster. He looked at me, unbelieving.

My brother had been acting very oddly for the past couple of weeks, ever since Harry's unnecessary apology in the library of Grimmauld Place. He would glance at me at the strangest of times, and if I were paying attention, he would practically gesture in Harry's direction. Of course, this strange behavior never happened when Harry was not in the room at the same time, or when he was paying attention to what was happening around him—which was not that often anymore.

And speaking of Harry… he is waking up now.

Ron glanced between Harry and me, cautiously, before jerking his head in Harry's direction and mouthing to me a message.

"I'll talk to you about him later."

I sighed. "Here it goes again," I muttered to myself under my breath, "The protective older brother strikes yet again."

I looked at Ron, expectedly only to see something strange. It seemed as if he had forgotten that either Harry or me were in the carriage with him. He was staring almost longingly at the sleeping form of Hermione. It was sweet to see. But suddenly the peaceful calm of the moment was broken.

Hermione was starting to wake up. She stretched her arms out, and sighed, making Ron start suddenly, and look away, almost sadly, out of the window. And, for some reason, his ears had started to turn a pale pink, which only happened when he was embarrassed, of caught doing something that he was not suppose to be doing.

I was puzzled. It almost seemed as if my prat of a brother might actually have it badly for his, Harry's, and of course my friend Hermione.

"But that is almost imposable," I reasoned to myself. "If he did like her, then why, would they bicker all the time? As if they could hardly stand to be in each others company?"

I was confused. "Why, if it were true, would my brother act out the opposite of what he feels? Unless… of course, he thought that she would never like him. Although I was certain that that was not possible, I decided to leave that matter alone. After all, didn't I have some problems of my own to puzzle through?"

By now, both Hermione and Harry were awake, and Ron was once again acting like his usual self. He was acting totally ignorant of the ways of the opposite sex. Hermione had a book in her hand, and Harry—Harry was staring dully out of the window.

And so with such companions as I had, at that point, I decided to write a letter to Dean.

"Now…" I pondered, "What should I say?"

So I started to write... well, at least I tried to, but I just could not think of anything to say. And that was quite unusual on my part...

"Dearest Dean," I began.

I scratched the beginning of my letter out. It just did not seem quite right. I tried again. And I tried yet again. But nothing worth sending came out of my quill and onto my parchment. I was frustrated.

"My Dear Dean,

How has your summer holiday been treating you?"

No. That was not going to work. I crumpled the sheet up. Why couldn't I think of anything to write to him? I mean he was my boyfriend after all.

I was practically screaming with frustration by the time that I had several crumpled sheets of paper scattered around where I was sitting.

Finally, I had found an approach. And so I began writing.

I was so engrossed in my letter that I did not see the owl struggling to keep up with the carriage.

And I was so engrossed that by the time I had finished my letter, signing it—"Love Ginny."—That I had not noticed the letter sitting serenely by my side. I also did not notice my brother, Ron, edging over to where it was laying. All that I knew was that he had written to me. But before I could attach my own letter to Dean's owl, it had flown away.

I suppose that I could send it when we are at Hogwarts.

Suddenly, Hermione spoke up.

"Ronald. I don't think that you should be reading Ginny's mail. I mean Dean is her boyfriend you know."

I started. And what I saw made me boil inside. My idiotic prat of a brother was about to open my letter. My letter.

"Ron…" I began, but Hermione finished for me.

"Ronald, don't you know that it is extremely rude to read another persons mail like that? Don't you know that that is Ginny's? And don't you know that she has not even read it herself? Why don't you just hand it over to her now?"

"But Mione…" he started, "I just wanted to know what that git would write to her."

"Dean Thomas is not a git!" I protested loudly.

Sighing, Ron handed me the letter.

Unhurriedly, I unrolled the parchment… savoring every moment of it. As soon as I had it unrolled, I began to read. Slowly.

"Dear Ginny,

I am sorry to have to inform you in this manner, but…"

Surely it was not going to be something bad. I thought to myself. But as I continued reading, my blood began to run cold. Bits and pieces of his letter jumped out at me.

…You see, there is someone else…my neighbor…a very sweet girl…she's a muggle…so Ginny, don't you see? I just cannot possibly continue seeing you… how about we just call our relationship quits. Maybe we could even still be friends…

Sincerely, Dean

I did the only thing possible. I crumpled both my letter to Dean, as well as his own letter to me into a very small ball. And hurled it as hard as I could manage in the opposite direction. And for the first time in my life… well almost the first time, I cried. And for the practically the first time in my life, I had to admit something to myself. Ron was right… at least this time. Dean Thomas is a git.

I was so worked up with myself, and my cauldron of boiling emotions, that I did not see the quiet form in the corner bend down and pick up my letters, and tuck then quickly into his front pocket.

All four of us were silent for the rest of the trip to Hogwarts.