Meaning of One, Part One: Stone and Fire by Sovran
Chapter Nine: Gifts
Original Authors Notes:
Thanks to Moshpit and Jonathan Avery as usual. Thanks also to regdc, who filled in while my usual brit-picker is on vacation.
Special, huge thanks go to Chreechree, who helped with certain portions of this chapter. Those sections should be obvious. WARNING: Please be advised that this chapter has a minor scene involving the natural growth and development of the human body.
Repost Note: I have made a minor grammatical change during the conversation with Dumbledore and McGonagall. Sovran originally wrote 'he explained'; I changed this to 'Dumbledore explained' as it would initially seem the 'he' should be Harry based on the previous paragraphs but in the context of the specific sentence itself, it should be coming from Dumbledore. This does not alter the story in any way but merely clarifies who is speaking.
One week after their midnight excursion, a school owl dropped a small brown parcel next to Hermione's plate. She opened the attached card, and Ginny was sure she saw the other girl flush slightly as she read the card. Hermione placed the package on the seat next to her and resumed eating as if nothing had happened. As soon as she finished her breakfast, she picked up the unopened parcel and left the Great Hall without her usual smile for Ginny.
What's that all about? Why didn't she open her package? Harry asked. He had not noticed anything himself, but he and Ginny were sharing their senses more regularly, so he saw the studious girl's subtle reaction.
I don't know. I don't think she'd have taken the package with her if it was dangerous or anything.
That evening after dinner, Ron invited Harry to play a game of chess, so Ginny went up to her room to get her Defence Against the Dark Arts book. On the way, she passed Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil heading in the other direction and whispering intently to each other.
As Ginny entered her room and pulled the door closed behind her, she looked up and found Hermione standing beside her bed wearing her uniform skirt and a delicate beige bra. It was small and relatively modest, but it was clearly a young woman's garment. Harry frantically attempted to count all the possible moves each of his chess pieces could make, and Ginny reacted to Harry's instinct and slammed her eyes shut.
When she was sure that Harry was completely occupied, Ginny opened her eyes. Hermione had put her shirt back on and was buttoning it up to her neck as usual. Ginny was embarrassed to have interrupted such a private moment, and she knew that Hermione's blush was no deeper than her own.
"I'm sorry, Hermione. I didn't know you were . . ."
"It's alright," she answered, her eyes fixed on the task of straightening her shirt. Ginny was sure that Hermione was lying in an effort to be polite.
She's dressed again, Harry.
Thank goodness. I've never . . . I mean, I didn't think about seeing anyone's . . .
I didn't either, but I should have. You may learn more about, err . . . girls' bodies than you want to know.
Looking around in an effort to find something else to talk about, Ginny spotted a square of bright blue wrapping paper lying atop the brown paper she had seen at breakfast. Guessing, Ginny asked, "Is it your birthday, Hermione?"
The brunette responded quietly without actually looking at Ginny. "Yes. September 19, 1979."
"Well . . . happy birthday," Ginny said, blushing as she turned away from her roommate. "I wish I'd known ahead of time."
"Thanks," Hermione muttered.
After a moment of silence, the older girl glanced at Ginny and asked, "Uhh, Ginny . . . what did you think? Did it look like it . . . fit?"
"What? Oh. I think so. You looked, err . . . great," she answered.
"My mother sent it to me. She said my old one was too small." Ginny thought Hermione sounded almost hopeful.
Ginny could not resist asking a question. "What does it feel like? I mean, to wear one, you know, and to . . . well, to need it."
Hermione flushed slightly and continued to avoid looking at Ginny. "It feels . . . odd. It's slightly uncomfortable, really, but I suppose I'll get used to it," Hermione answered, choosing her words with care. "This one is better than my old one, though. It was a training bra, and it . . . well, I needed a bit more support and more coverage."
"Well, that's good then, right?" Ginny pointed out.
"Yes, that's good," Hermione echoed quietly. She appeared to steel herself a bit before continuing. "It's just that you, Lavender, and Parvati aren't wearing anything at all yet. They saw it in the box and ran off, muttering about the owlery."
"I passed them on the stairs," Ginny nodded. She thought for a moment, and then added, "You're the oldest, right? So shouldn't it happen to you first?"
"I suppose so," Hermione sighed. "I just wish it wasn't so . . . obvious."
"It doesn't really show through your shirt very much, and in your robes or a jumper I don't think anyone would know it's there," Ginny said hesitantly. She could tell that Hermione would rather not draw attention to her new garment or the reason she needed it.
I can't see that she looks any different than she did earlier today, Harry added helpfully.
That's good, Harry. Don't stare at her when you see her in person, okay?
I won't, he promised. It's not really what I expected, and it looks uncomfortable, but that's pretty much all I could say about it.
If you're anything like my brothers, that won't last, she replied wryly.
"That's good, I suppose," Hermione said. "I know I'm going to grow up, and I know it's perfectly logical, but I wish I hadn't started before everyone else."
"Well, this way you can tell me all about it before it happens to me." Ginny flushed a bit and then frowned. "If it happens to me. I'm so short that I wonder if I'll ever grow in any direction."
"Everyone grows up, Ginny, and people who grow in one place are likely to grow in all places. Later on, you may appreciate having started out small," the older girl replied, picking up her hairbrush.
"What do you mean?" Ginny wondered.
Hermione sighed. "Ginny, girls who grow faster up here," she waved vaguely at her chest and blushed again, "tend to gain weight faster, too. My mother's been exercising every day for years to stay healthy. You may never have to worry about that."
"Oh," Ginny replied. She was not sure what else she could say.
Hermione began brushing her hair as she read a book lying on her bed, and Ginny crossed to her trunk.
Harry, I'm going to make Hermione a card. It's the least I can do for her. I'll be down later, okay?
Sure, Gin. Ron won't mind beating me a few more times. He's been looking at me strangely, so I should probably pay more attention anyway.
Why do you keep playing with him? she asked, amused. Everyone but Dad gives up after the first two or three games, and even he hardly ever wins anymore.
He shrugged mentally. Playing any game is better than playing no games at all. Who knows . . . maybe someday I'll lose less spectacularly.
Don't count on it.
Ginny dug out a clean bit of parchment and a jar of blue ink. She set out the supplies on her bed and closed the curtains to keep from spoiling the surprise for her roommate.
Several minutes later, she finished writing the birthday message and decorating the edges of the parchment with books of various sizes. She waved the parchment around in the air to dry, and then she opened her curtains and crossed the room to her friend's bed.
"Here you are, Hermione," she said hesitantly. "Happy birthday."
You're giving her a chocolate frog, Harry, she commanded.
Sure, he agreed.
Ginny reached into her trunk and retrieved a chocolate frog Harry had given her from the batch he bought on the train. "And this is from Harry."
"Thank you, Ginny, the card is very nice." She took the sweet and looked at it oddly. Ginny thought that some of the lingering tension in the room finally faded. "I will be sure to thank Harry, also."
"You're welcome. I wish I'd known your birthday was coming. We could have made something nicer for you."
"Neither of you needed to get me anything at all," Hermione reassured her and watched Ginny closely.
"Of course we did. We're your friend, and friends give birthday presents." It was the most obvious thing in the world to Ginny. The other girl blinked at her in confusion.
Hermione is our friend? Harry asked curiously. He liked the studious girl well enough, but he was not sure when someone became a friend instead of an acquaintance. We really haven't talked to her much, have we?
We have to start somewhere, Harry. She can be a new friend today who becomes an old friend tomorrow.
Err . . . that makes sense, I guess. I've never had a friend except for you, and you're . . . well, you're you.
Ron's your friend, too, Ginny insisted. Boys just don't talk about it very much. At least, my brothers never talked about it when they had friends over.
Hermione thought for a minute, her expression hesitant, and then seemed to come to a decision. "You know, there is something you could help me with, if you wanted. It would be better than any present."
"Oh? What is it?" Ginny asked, still eager to make up for embarrassing her friend.
"Well, I would really like to know what is going on with you and Harry," Hermione said.
Ginny and Harry both froze in their separate locations, while Ginny stared at her roommate with wide eyes.
Oh, no, said Harry.
"You don't have to answer," Hermione promised. "I would never pry, but I am very curious."
She sat on her bed and faced Ginny intently. "First, you appeared in the middle of the sorting ceremony, and the Sorting Hat sorted you with Harry. Not just at the same time as Harry. The Hat shouted Gryffindor once for both of you."
"Later, you said that you had just met him that morning at Platform 9 ¾, but you both behave as though you have been best friends for your entire lives, and Harry seems to know a lot more about your brothers than they know about him."
"At meals, you always eat the same things. At first you chose the same dishes and ate them in the same order. A few days later, you were eating in synchronization. I do not believe that Harry could have copied your movements and gestures that effectively. Since then, you and he have been eating the same foods in a different order, but always with a consistent rhythm. It is subtle, but it is definitely a pattern."
I told you she notices everything, Ginny said nervously.
Like I said, Harry replied, she's nice, but creepy.
Hermione was not finished. She stood up from her bed and began pacing in a precise pattern of four steps in either direction. "In class, you used to share Harry's wand, and it worked very well for you. I know your first wand was second hand, but according to my reading, it is very rare for someone to get any sort of useful results from another witch or wizard's wand. So Harry's wand should not have worked any better for you than the one you had at first. In our second week, you had a new wand that worked much better for you, but you still borrow his wand for new or difficult spells.
"The first weekend we were here, you took Harry back to your parents' house. You said it was because they wanted to ask about the sorting ceremony, but I think they could have asked you the same questions they asked Harry.
"Your curtains are always closed. Before you go to bed each night, you cast a sticking charm on them to keep them closed. Where and why did you learn a sticking charm?
"When we worked on our last History of Magic homework, I saw both of your essays. They were so nearly identical that I would not have been able to tell which of you wrote which essay without looking at the handwriting. The content, structure, and tone were almost exactly the same."
This is amazing, Harry said. We didn't even notice all of this stuff.
Hermione's observations continued to come quickly as she drove her point home. "After your fight with Ron, you and Harry were holding hands on the couch when I came downstairs, and I am not sure that either of you realized it. You always leave rooms together, but I have never seen you talk to or even look at each other to show that you were ready to leave.
"When we found that Cerberus last week, you and Harry cast the exact same spell at the exact same time for the exact same purpose, without saying anything at all. It worked, I suppose, but I cannot imagine that it was a coincidence.
"Sometimes, both of you seem to stop paying attention to what is going on around you. You just stare at each other or at nothing, but you still act like you're talking to someone.
"Finally, you respond to Lavender, Parvati, and I as though you have never seen us before. You were clearly startled when you saw them without their uniforms, and a few minutes ago . . . well, it was very embarrassing, but you looked like you expected to be punished for walking into your own room."
Hermione, who was apparently Hogwarts' most observant student, finished her speech and looked expectantly at Ginny. "So I would like to know what is happening, if you are willing to tell me. If you would prefer not to, just say so, and I won't bother you about it again."
What do we do? Harry said, idly moving a pawn in his current chess game.
Stall? It's all I can think of.
"What do you think is happening, Hermione?" Ginny asked cautiously.
"I have considered two theories," the other girl answered promptly. "First, you may have lied to me about when you met Harry. If you and he have been friends for a very long time, then that might explain some of the odd things you do, but not all of them. You don't seem like the sort of person who would lie just for fun, but I could be wrong.
"Second . . ." she trailed off, choosing her words carefully. "Second, you might be the subjects or victims of some magic I have not yet read about. I find that theory much less satisfying, because it is so very vague. But it does have the potential to address all of the points I raised."
"However," Hermione mused, seeming to speak to herself as much as to Ginny, "I have read a lot of books since I got my Hogwarts letter. My parents took me to Diagon Alley the very next day, and we bought quite a few books in addition to my textbooks. I have at least scanned all of them, and since arriving at Hogwarts I have studied primers for all branches of magic taught here. None of those books mentioned anything like this, but there must be many things I have not yet encountered in my reading."
We need to take her to see Dumbledore, Harry, Ginny concluded after a long moment of silence. It wouldn't be hard for her to talk to one of my brothers to make sure we haven't known each other forever. That means she'll think about her second idea, and it's as close to the truth as anything we've thought of.
You're right. Should we go and find him now?
I'll go. Ron will get suspicious if all three of us leave without him.
"Come with me, Hermione. We need to see Professor Dumbledore," she said aloud.
Hermione was instantly concerned. "The Headmaster? Why? Did we do something wrong?"
Ginny faced her friend with a serious expression. "No, but if you want any sort of answer to your question, we have to see the Headmaster." She grabbed Hermione's elbow and pulled her out of the room.
As the two girls crossed the common room towards the portrait hole, Harry glanced up and looked Hermione in the eye. He was worried, and apparently she noticed his expression, because her face registered surprise for a moment.
Dumbledore had never given them the password to his office, so Ginny took her roommate to the Gryffindor Head of House. She knocked politely and entered the office with McGonagall's permission.
"Good evening, Miss Weasley and Miss Granger. How may I help you?"
"Professor, Hermione and I would like to speak to the Headmaster," Ginny suggested politely.
"Professor Dumbledore is quite busy," McGonagall replied with a small smile. "I would be glad to speak to you about anything you would care to discuss."
Ginny stepped closer to the desk and cocked her head intently at the older woman. "Professor, Hermione and Harry and I need to speak to the Headmaster. We'd be happy if you came along, too."
The experienced professor paused only for an instant before nodding in response to Ginny's emphasis. "Very well. Come with me."
Try to get away from Ron, Harry. I think you might need to join us soon. He agreed and abandoned his third chess game, saying he was going upstairs to read ahead. He climbed into his bed, sealed the curtains, and waited.
Looking surprised and confused at the sudden acquiescence of their Head of House, Hermione followed her friend and professor out of the office.
A few minutes later, the three of them ascended the spiral staircase and entered the Headmaster's office.
"Hello, Minerva. Miss Granger, Miss Weasley . . . it is always a pleasure when students visit for reasons other than discipline. I trust this is the case?"
"They have broken no rules that I am aware of, Albus. Miss Weasley asked to speak to you, and she requested that Miss Granger and I accompany her." McGonagall raised an eyebrow significantly. "I believe Mr. Potter was mentioned, also."
"I see," said Dumbledore. "In that case, Miss Weasley, I am at your service."
Ginny turned to her friend. "Hermione, could you please tell them everything you told me a few minutes ago?"
Ginny decided that the bushy-haired girl must be overwhelmed. Only minutes ago, Hermione had watched her roommate persuade their Head of House to escort them to the Headmaster, and now the Headmaster himself was deferring to her. Without realizing it, Hermione obeyed her friend just as readily as her professors had, though Ginny thought she looked rather nervous.
Haltingly, she listed her observations. This time, she left out any mention of Ginny's reactions to her roommates, for which Ginny was very grateful. She also excluded their adventure on the third floor, and she finished by summarizing her two theories again.
As she spoke, her expression became more worried, but the Headmaster's face transformed. He smiled behind his beard, and his eyes twinkled madly. He looked fondly at Hermione for a long moment, and then he turned to Ginny.
"Miss Weasley, would you be willing to ask Mr. Potter to join us as soon as possible?" he asked.
Ginny knew what the Headmaster meant. He wanted to know if she and Harry would tell Hermione their secrets.
What do you think, Harry? If we tell her, she might be able to help me make sure the other girls don't find out.
You trust her, Ginny, and that's good enough for me. Besides, she knows already, really.
Okay. Ginny turned to her right, away from Hermione, to give Harry a clear view of the Headmaster's office. A moment later, he appeared in the empty space. He dropped the last inch to the floor, landed lightly, and pushed his fringe out of his eyes as he straightened.
"Hi, Hermione," he said.
She stared at him open-mouthed. "You cannot apparate into or within Hogwarts," she whispered. Ginny thought that her friend was almost pleading.
"Indeed, Miss Granger, apparition is impossible. Your friends seem to have found a viable alternative, however," Dumbledore explained. "Everyone, please, sit down. Lemon drop, anyone?"
Professor McGonagall and the three students each took a chair facing the Headmaster's desk. Hermione accepted a lemon drop and held it between her fingers, already forgotten. Her eyes were clouded, as if she was trying to process too much information, but she quickly regained her composure as her brow furrowed and she began tapping her fingers on the arm of her chair.
Returning Dumbledore's gaze, she listed options quickly. "Portkey, some sort of invisibility, or a very small Animagus form. None of them fit. What did he do?"
The wizard's smile broadened. "There is a very simple answer, Miss Granger . . ." She straightened in her seat. "I have no idea."
Hermione deflated and looked as rebellious as Ginny thought she was capable of. "Well, that is an answer. It fails miserably as an explanation, though."
"The best questions are the hardest ones," he agreed. "Miss Weasley, perhaps you would consent to tell your story once again?"
Ginny told Hermione almost everything she had told the professors, her parents, and Ron. She left out the contents of Harry's nightmare. When she finished, Hermione was quiet for several minutes. Her brow furrowed, and she flicked her eyes at random between Harry, Ginny, and the floor in front of her chair.
She spoke with some of her usual confidence. "You share all five senses . . ."
"Six," the Headmaster offered.
"Five," Hermione insisted distractedly. "You have to count them properly. Taste and smell are really two different mechanisms for interpreting the same information. That leaves proprioception as the fifth.
"You share all five senses," she continued, resuming her summary, "and you share thoughts and emotions. You can access each other's memories. You feel more comfortable when touching, and you have horrible nightmares if you sleep separately. You can transport to each other or to a well-known location any time you like, but only one at a time. Have I left anything out?"
"I think that's all of it," Ginny replied in amazement. She was already familiar with the intelligence Hermione showed in class and during their study sessions, but this aspect of Hermione's personality was very different and more confident than she was accustomed to. At the moment, Hermione was being forceful, direct, and articulate, much like Ginny's eldest brother Bill was when he faced a challenge.
"May I ask questions?" Hermione inquired.
Do you think she'd explode if we said no? Harry wondered.
"Of course!" Ginny smiled slightly. "We don't know all the answers, though," she admitted.
"I suppose that is understandable," Hermione conceded. "Will you tell me what the nightmares are about?"
Ginny shook her head. "We'd really rather not."
Dumbledore intervened with a useful answer. "I know the contents of their nightmares, Miss Granger. I assure you that they are not relevant to this conversation."
Hermione glanced at Harry, but she nodded. "Alright."
We might as well have told her, Ginny decided.
I'd still rather not. If she can figure it out, that's fine, but I don't want to talk about it.
Hermione tapped her fingers in thought for another moment. "Ginny, do you think my hair looks nice today?"
The redhead blinked at the question but answered honestly. "Sure, you did a good job on brushing it out."
"Thank you." Her friend barely acknowledged the response before turning to Harry. "What do you think, Harry?"
"Err . . . it's hair, isn't it? It looks like it does every day. If Ginny says it looks nice, then it probably does."
"Interesting. Very interesting," muttered Hermione. "You said this connection started when you met on Platform 9 ¾. Specifically, you said that it began when you touched for the first time. Did either of you notice anything odd prior to that? Could someone have cast a spell on you, or did you pick up a strange object?"
Ginny reviewed Harry's memory of that day. She had seen it before, but she wanted to be sure. "Neither of us noticed any spells being cast or anything that felt like a spell cast on us. Harry didn't touch anything except his things and his trolley, and I was holding Mum's hand most of the time. We both felt a sort of pull, but we didn't realize we were looking for each other until we were very close together. Other than that tugging feeling, everything was normal until I grabbed his hand. Then we were . . . like this."
"You remember the scene from both points of view?" The younger girl nodded. "There was no other obvious trigger, then." She paused. "What does it feel like when you transport from one place to another?"
"It doesn't feel like much of anything, really," Ginny answered. "We're here, and then we're there."
"Their arrival generates a slight breeze, as you may have noticed, Miss Granger," Dumbledore added.
"Yes, it disturbs the air but does not make any noise. That detail is not particularly helpful, but it is worth considering. Headmaster . . ." Hermione hesitated before completing her question. "Headmaster, you implied that you do not know how they travel. What are your theories about their connection in general?"
"I have none, Miss Granger," he admitted. "There are spells that can duplicate some of the effects they experience in very limited ways, but those spells are difficult and would not produce such complete results. It seems logical to assume either that some sort of magical connection has been imposed on them, or perhaps that they have some natural magical affinity that we do not understand. That, of course, is the second theory you mentioned initially."
I'd much rather think it's the natural magical affinity, Harry said. Ginny agreed wordlessly.
"There is always a third possibility," Hermione pointed out, furrowing her brow in concentration. "It could be something so alien to us that we are unable to even imagine its existence with the knowledge we currently possess."
"Very astute, Miss Granger. You are quite correct."
What does she mean by that? Harry asked.
I'm not sure. She considered for a moment. I think she means there are things we don't know enough to even dream of. Like . . . I don't know . . . the whole universe we see being the white stuff inside some boy's Remembrall.
That's strange, alright.
"There is another effect that Ginny did not mention," the Headmaster continued. "I believe she hoped to be modest, but I am confident that you will not be troubled by the information.
"Miss Granger, have you encountered the Arithmantic Magical Power scale in your reading?"
"Oh yes," she answered, surprising no one. "The scale is mentioned in chapter four of One, One, Two, Three, Five: An Arithmantic Primer. It sounds very interesting, but I have never seen the power test performed. I have not yet had the opportunity to read the references listed in the primer's bibliography, either, although I did notice that they're in the library here."
"Please allow me to demonstrate." Dumbledore spoke the incantation and cast the testing spell on Hermione. A pale yellow sphere with irregular pastel pink patches extended almost a meter from the girl's body. From within the sphere, Hermione studied the pattern of her magical signature closely.
"A lovely specimen, Miss Granger," the Headmaster complimented her as the sphere faded.
"I'm lucky, I suppose," she admitted. "It looks rather like an Easter egg, but it could have been much worse."
Now I'm sure the colors don't mean anything, Ginny commented. I can't imagine that anything about Hermione is pastel.
"I will spare you the sight of my own sphere," Dumbledore winked. "Miss Weasley, may I cast the spell on you once more?" Ginny nodded, and he cast the spell again.
Ginny's brilliant sphere appeared just as it had on September first. The whorled pattern of red, purple, and green illuminated the room but did not move.
Hermione was startled by the size of her friend's sphere, but it did not distract her from her questions. "Is Harry's sphere similar?"
"An excellent question. I do not yet know the answer," Dumbledore replied. "May I, Mr. Potter?"
Harry nodded. He was curious to see his sphere, too.
Harry's test was disappointing, in a way. His sphere was perfectly identical to Ginny's. Even the whorls and bands matched.
"That has never happened before, has it, Headmaster?" Hermione asked.
"No," Dumbledore replied, though he did not appear to be surprised. "It is generally believed that every wizard or witch has a unique magical signature. However, that is not the last piece of this particular puzzle." He turned to Harry and Ginny. "Together, now, if you please."
Ginny reached out and took Harry's hand. She did not bother to hide the gesture this time. A moment later, their combined sphere appeared and swirled gently as it filled the office.
"It's beautiful," Hermione whispered.
"Yes, it is very impressive in many ways, as are their individual results," Dumbledore agreed as the room returned to normal. "I suspect that Miss Weasley and Mister Potter will have to learn restraint in stressful situations." He glanced at Ginny as he spoke, and the red-haired girl blushed spectacularly.
"We set fire to my parents' dinner table," she admitted in a whisper.
"You did what?" Hermione exclaimed. "Why on earth would you do that?"
"One of them said something that wasn't very nice," Harry said, scowling. "We didn't mean to set anything on fire, though."
"I should hope not." The older girl paused to consider what she had seen. "That explains why Ginny uses Harry's wand for difficult spells. If they have the same magical signature, then it is logical that they would need the same wand."
She made a connection among the information she had heard, and she turned to Ginny. "You transport yourself to Harry's room and sleep there at night, don't you? That's why your curtains are charmed closed." The youngest Gryffindor nodded. "Then you told me all of this so that I could help you keep it all a secret. If the other students found out, the situation would be very difficult."
"We hope you'll agree, Hermione," Ginny said. "Ron knows, and he's watching out for us in the boys' room. If you helped us keep Lavender and Parvati from finding out, we'd be really grateful. But even if you don't want to help, we won't regret telling you. We're your friend."
Hermione's thoughtful expression shifted into a subdued grin. "That sounds much less odd now that I understand your pronouns." She paused, and then her eyes brightened.
"I would be happy to help you," she announced. "You will let me ask you about how it works, though, won't you?"
Harry anticipated Ginny's question this time. Fine by me.
"Sure we will. Maybe you can help us figure out what's going on," Ginny said hopefully.
"Well then, the first thing we need is more data," Hermione declared. "I'll give you each a roll of parchment. You should start by writing down everything you feel and categorizing it as originating from Harry, from Ginny, or from both. Then you should rate the strength of each emotion. I'll design a scale so that we can measure them consistently. Also, you should write down whatever happened to trigger each emotion. Really, it would be much easier if we had one of those pensieves that I've read about. Headmaster, do you suppose we could . . ."
"Miss Granger," McGonagall cut her off sharply. "Please remember that Mr. Potter and Miss Weasley are friends and classmates, not laboratory specimens."
Hermione's face fell and she spoke quietly. "Yes, of course. Ginny, Harry, I'm so sorry. I got carried away. Just let me know if you want my help, alright?"
"It's okay, Hermione," Ginny smiled. "We really do want your help, but we want to have normal lives and keep this secret from everyone else. We can't do that if we write everything down all the time."
"We'd end up spending all our time writing about how much we hate writing about things," Harry added, grinning.
Hermione frowned at Harry's remark, but she nodded reluctantly.
"Please tell us if you learn something or if anything new occurs," Dumbledore requested. "For now, you should return to Gryffindor Tower. Remember that Miss Granger and Miss Weasley should walk, and Mr. Potter should return directly to where he was before this meeting. Miss Granger, please remember that this must be kept utterly secret. Discuss it with Mr. Potter or the Weasleys only if you are absolutely sure that you cannot be overheard."
"Yes, Headmaster, I understand," Hermione agreed.
"Harry, we'll meet you in the common room, okay?" Ginny asked out loud for Hermione's benefit.
"Okay."
A moment later, Harry was back in his bed in Gryffindor Tower. Ginny and Hermione talked as they walked through the castle, and Harry stayed where he was so that he could focus on their conversation.
The girls started by discussing their classes and homework, but when they reached a deserted corridor, Hermione leaned closer to whisper in Ginny's ear. "Harry saw me this evening, didn't he?"
Harry was mortified. I'll never be able to talk to her again. She must hate me.
It wasn't your fault, Harry, but I don't know what she'll think of it.
Without looking at her friend, Ginny nodded.
"What did he say?" Hermione demanded.
Ginny hesitated, but she knew that Hermione needed an honest answer if she was to remain friends with Harry. "He only saw you for a moment before I shut my eyes, but he said it looked uncomfortable."
The older girl pondered this for a moment. "Is he listening now?"
I'm not sure it would matter, but I won't if she doesn't want me to, Harry offered.
"Yes, but he says he'll stop if you want."
"There's not much point in that, is there?" Hermione pointed out. "He could just remember it later, even if he didn't want to." She was quiet for a minute and then came to a decision. "Ask him to meet us in the alcove across from the statue of the tall fellow outside the common room. That's where Neville was waiting for us last week, if you recall."
Ginny knew Harry was nervous about seeing Hermione, and she could see that Hermione was just as nervous about talking to Harry. You need to talk to her, Harry, or at least let her talk to you.
He sighed. If you say so, Ginny.
"He's on his way there."
Harry left his room and went downstairs to the common room. He spotted Ron and skirted the edge of the room behind the red-haired boy to avoid having to explain his departure. Stepping out of the portrait hole, he spotted the secluded alcove and stepped into it. A minute later, Ginny and Hermione emerged from the staircase and joined him. Harry stared at the floor, unwilling to meet Hermione's gaze.
The three students stood in awkward silence for several long moments. At last, Hermione took a deep breath and said, "Harry, look at me."
Please, Harry?
Reluctantly, Harry raised his head and faced the bushy-haired girl, who blushed but kept her head up and her back straight. He watched her expression as she returned his gaze. At first, she looked nervous, but her face relaxed as she looked into Harry's green eyes.
As usual, Ginny knew what was happening. "Harry," she asked, "do you think any differently of Hermione today than you did yesterday?"
"Not really," he replied, embarrassed. "I mean, she's still Hermione, isn't she?"
Ginny turned to Hermione and raised an eyebrow. The older girl sighed and said, "Thank you, Harry."
"Err . . . you're welcome," he answered, though he was not sure what he was being thanked for.
I'll explain it to you someday, Harry. For now, just accept it, okay?
He nodded as Ginny addressed her roommate. "We need to be careful, Hermione. Harry and I can't keep our vision separated all the time. I'll try to keep my curtains closed when you and the others are changing, and you should remember not to get dressed when I'm there. Is that okay?"
"That's fine. I don't fancy having Lavender and Parvati stare at me, anyway." She paused as another thought occurred to her. "What about you, though? You can't very well hide from yourself."
"We decided to stop worrying about that," Ginny muttered, blushing slightly.
"But what about when . . ." Hermione began slowly.
The younger girl cut her off. "We'll figure that out when we get to it," she stated.
What? Harry asked.
Ginny sighed. We talked about this earlier, Harry. Someday the things that are happening to Hermione will happen to me. Your body will change, too.
His only answer was a deep scarlet blush. He did not entirely understand why, but he was well aware that such things would be considered inappropriate.
"You had to tell him, didn't you?" Hermione asked as she noticed Harry's reaction.
"Yeah."
"Well, that's good, in a way, isn't it?" the older girl asked cautiously.
Ginny smiled crookedly. "Yeah," she repeated more quietly. Even with his insight into Ginny's thoughts and feelings, Harry was unsure what had just been said. He knew the words, he knew that Ginny was happy with him in some way, and he knew that it had to do with the changes Hermione was experiencing. Given all of that, though, he still could not understand how it all connected. Ginny chose not to explain it to him, but he decided that he did not mind based on how calm she felt about it.
The three friends returned to the common room and joined Ron on a long couch where he was reading Quidditch Through the Ages. Ginny turned to her brother and whispered, "Hermione knows, okay?"
"Knows what? The middle names of all the Headmasters of Hogwarts?" Ron asked at a normal volume.
Ginny whacked him solidly on the arm. Hermione huffed and got up from the sofa. She stomped up the stairs to her room without looking back.
She probably does know the middle names of all the Headmasters, but he shouldn't say things like that, Ginny told Harry.
"She knows about Harry and me," Ginny continued. "She's going to help us in my dorm like you do in Harry's. So we can talk about it around her, okay?"
"Yeah, alright," Ron agreed.
"And stop being a complete prat when she's around," she added. "Just because she's smart doesn't mean she's boring."
Ginny went up the stairs after Hermione and found the older girl sitting on her bed and reading her Transfiguration textbook. "Hermione, I'm sorry for what Ron said. He's not that bad, really . . . he just hardly ever says the right thing."
"Yes, well, he's your brother, so I suppose he cannot be completely awful," Hermione admitted. "But that does not mean I have to sit there and listen to him."
"No, I suppose it doesn't," Ginny said with a sigh.
After the three Gryffindors left the Headmaster's office, Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and smiled broadly.
"Why are you so happy, Albus?" Minerva wondered, perplexed by his casual attitude.
"I am always happy to have worked out the answer to a difficult puzzle," he replied.
"Oh? What would that be?"
"The question of what has happened to Mr. Potter and Miss Weasley, of course," Dumbledore explained.
McGonagall frowned. "I fail to see how we have found the answer to that question."
"Ah, but we have, Minerva," he said, beaming. "We've delegated the question to Miss Granger. Now all we have to do is wait."
She sniffed. "You may well be right about that. I sometimes wonder why exactly she was sorted into my house."
"There are many kinds of courage, Minerva," he said solemnly. "I suspect that it takes quite a lot of it for someone like Miss Granger to participate in society at all. Leaving her family and culture behind to explore an entirely new world must have been very difficult for her."
The Sorting Hat spoke from his shelf behind the headmaster's desk. "He's right, for once, Minerva. Let's hope it doesn't go to his head, shall we?"
The next morning, it was Harry's turn to receive a mysterious parcel. Hedwig and a brown school owl brought him a long, narrow package and a note. He opened the note and read it quickly.
Mr. Potter,
Enclosed is a new Nimbus Two Thousand racing broom. Do not open it at the table. Please understand that this is not your broom. It is a Gryffindor house broom purchased for the use of the Gryffindor Seeker. As you currently hold that position, I request that you keep it in your possession. I trust that you will care for it properly.
Mr. Wood will meet you at the Quidditch pitch at seven o'clock tonight for your first training session.
Sincerely,
M. McGonagall
Head of Gryffindor House
Ginny was beaming as he passed the note to Ron.
"Wicked!" Ron declared and then gave the note to Hermione at Harry's nod.
Hermione scanned the note and sniffed. "Sophistry has its uses, I suppose." Harry, Ginny, and Ron gave her an odd look but let the comment pass.
After dinner, Harry and Ginny made their way to the Quidditch pitch to meet Wood for Harry's first practice. The burly fifth-year was waiting for Harry with a crate of Quidditch balls.
"Hello, Potter. Who's your friend?"
"This is Ginny," Harry introduced her. "She wanted to watch the practice, if that's alright."
Wood glanced at the Gryffindor crest on Ginny's robes and then at her hair. "You're Ginny Weasley, then? Should have recognized you after the sorting. Don't distract us while we're practicing, and you can stay, right?"
Ginny nodded and crossed to the stands to find a seat. All she really wanted to do was to enjoy flying with Harry without making excuses for her distraction.
"Alright, Potter. Do you know how Quidditch is played?" Wood asked.
"I think so," Harry replied. "Ginny and her brother Ron told me all about the players and balls and rules."
"I've heard about Ron Weasley from his brothers," Oliver nodded. "Knows his Quidditch, but I can't say much for his choice in teams."
"Right, then," he continued. "If you know that much, we'll get started practicing. It's too dark to release the Snitch, but McGonagall gave us these white balls to practice with." He gestured toward a basket of Muggle golf balls. "I'm not sure what they are or where she got them, but they'll do."
Wood mounted his broom and hung the basket from the shaft in front of him. Harry climbed onto his Nimbus Two Thousand and took off into the air.
"Here, Potter, try to catch this," Wood shouted from below him. The older boy threw a ball high into the air in Harry's direction. He had no trouble steering to catch it in his right hand. He tucked the white orb into his pocket, and Wood threw another. This time, the ball went away from him in a shallow
arc towards the ground.
Harry raced after it, darting under its arc to catch up with it. Several meters off the ground, the ball smacked firmly into his palm.
You need gloves, Harry.
They're part of the uniform, aren't they? he asked.
Yeah, but that doesn't help you now, she replied, rubbing her hand.
Wood's next projectile flew in a high arc, and it was too far from Harry for him to catch it before it began falling rapidly to the ground. He concentrated on tracking its progress and flying fast enough to catch it without hitting the ground. Ginny followed the ball with her own eyes, and for a moment Harry saw himself and the falling ball from her point of view.
With that added perspective, Harry realized that he was not as close to the ball as he thought, so he sped up even more. Barely a foot from the ground, he snatched the ball out of the air.
"Well done, Potter. I thought that one was a miss for sure," Wood remarked.
Harry chased golf balls for another twenty minutes, at which time Wood declared that he was ready to chase the snitch during team practices. The Quidditch Captain shook Harry's hand and walked off towards the broom shed with the crate holding the balls.
Want a go, Gin? Harry offered, knowing already what the answer would be.
Thanks, Harry! She scampered down from the stands and ran to where he was standing in the middle of the pitch. He handed over his broom with a grin, and Ginny took off.
Harry had pursued the golf balls diligently, but Ginny faced no such requirement. She soared above the pitch in loops, dives, and rolls. Both of them rejoiced in the speed and agility of the high-quality broom Ginny rode. Harry sat in the grass and closed his eyes to focus on the sensations of flying.
This is wonderful, Ginny! Harry exulted. I wish we had two brooms so we could play together.
We'll go flying next time we're at the Burrow, she promised. Maybe we can show my brothers a thing or two. Do you want to fly again now?
You go ahead. I'll have lots of chances at Quidditch practice.
Harry could feel her appreciation clearly even though her grin was invisible above him.
This is what we need, Harry. Nothing matters while one of us is flying. Can you feel how free we are?
There's nothing like it, he agreed.
Wood emerged from the broom shed and spotted Ginny flying above him. He walked up behind Harry and startled him out of his reverie. "Well, now . . . the twins never told me their sister could fly like that."
Harry grinned. "They don't know."
"She does play Quidditch, I hope?"
"She wants to," he confirmed.
"Don't let those brothers of hers stop her, then. We'll need her in a few years." Wood glanced appreciatively up at Ginny one more time, and then he set out for the castle.
As the autumn progressed, Ginny attended all of Harry's Quidditch practices. The twins assumed that she was there to watch them, but she really flew along with Harry. After every practice, Ginny borrowed Harry's broom and soared around the Quidditch pitch until it was too dark to see properly.
The first time Fred and George saw her flying, they just stared at her. After a few minutes, George turned to Fred. "She's been at it for years, Fred. Probably knows my broom as well as I do."
"What do you think she's doing on Harry's broom, then?" his twin asked.
They both turned to look at Harry expectantly. He was less nervous about the twins than about Ginny's other brothers, so he answered honestly. "She knew I'd let her use it. You two wouldn't have believed she could fly," he grinned.
George winced. "He has a point," he admitted.
"When she comes down . . ." Fred began. Then he looked up at his baby sister soaring above him. ". . . if she comes down, tell her she can borrow our brooms anytime."
Nice of them, but not terribly likely while you're around with this broom, Ginny commented.
Harry grinned broadly. "I'll tell her. Maybe if you're nice she'll give you a few pointers."
"Oi!" exclaimed Fred in mock indignation. "Are you sure you don't have red hair, Potter? You sound just like her, and she's got the reddest hair of us all."
In other words, good one, Harry.
"Good one, Harry," George said. High in the air, Ginny laughed out loud at George's unconscious echo of her words.
As the twins left to return to the castle, Harry heard Fred say, "Do you think we could teach her to throw a Quaffle? We'd have better games in the paddock."
That'll be loads of fun, Ginny predicted. After Mum found out I was flying at night, she showed me a few old Chaser moves. The twins won't know what hit them.
Why haven't we told them yet? Harry wondered.
Because I'm not at all sure what they'll say, she admitted. Ron and Percy were easy, but the twins . . . I don't know what they'll think. Mostly they're carefree and easy to get along with, provided that you can put up with their pranks. Sometimes, though, they're . . . a bit intense, I guess, and I don't always know what they'll do when they're like that.
Well, we don't have to tell them any time soon, do we?
No. Let's worry about it later, okay?
Harry agreed, and he closed his eyes to join Ginny in flying above the pitch. For these few minutes, three times a week, they were truly united and truly happy.
Original Authors Notes2: A few readers have expressed concern about future experiences, so here's my explanation. Physically, Harry and Ginny will develop normally for children of their ages, and they will face many challenges along the way. That does not mean that they will be sexually active at an indecent age. Teenagers will be teenagers, and all that, but there is a line that I will not cross. Where exactly that line is will remain my secret for now, but I am confident that no one will be bothered by it. If you have concerns about such things, feel free to send me a private message.