The Scarlett Secret
Presents
Seventeen
Secrets
:Chapter One: Secret Surprise
Ginny stared at her tired reflection as she held her head in her hands, elbows resting on the chipped white vanity in her bedroom. Auburn bangs grown out to her cheeks and softly brushed to the side of her face accented the freckles that danced there. She blinked, and slowly her eyelids became heavier with each movement. Just as they were about to close, a loud crash came from downstairs followed by a colorful string of words her mother spoke when she thought no one could hear and quickly jolted her awake. Groaning, she quickly shoved what was left on the vanity into the bag on the floor, chipping away another scrap of the old white paint in the process. Charlie kept promising he'd repaint the thing, but every year he put it off. Not that Ginny minded any. It'd been her great grandmother's, and she rather liked it in itsoriginal state. She'd feel terrible if it were painted over.
Standing up, she looked around the room for anything she might've forgotten to pack away. Pondering momentarily, she twirled around to face her bed, and laughed as her eyes fell on a wooden frame by her bedside. Fred and George were back to back with a single finger over their mouths, signaling for quiet, but the two figures kept bumping each other with an elbow or something equally as obnoxious. Ginny picked up the photo and shoved it into her already-full bag.
"I've got your shampoo, Gin," Hermione said as she slipped into the room, a towelbalancing precariously on her head, holding her sopping wet hair.
"Thanks, Hermione," the redhead replied, relieved that at least Hermione had paid attention to the basics. Tossing the products next to the photo, she looked at the blank wall in front of her, and wondered what was going on on the other side.
"Hey, Hermione?"
"Mm, what?" the older girl asked, tearing herself away from one of their new textbooks.
"You didn't happen to see Ron or Harry awake yet while you came back from the shower, did you?"
"Can't say I did… Wait a second… Ginny," Hermione warned, already knowing what was going on in the other girl's mind.
"Are you accusing me of something already, Hermione?" Ginny asked with a sugar-coated smile. "I'm just going to wake up my dearest Ronnikens…" She started out the door, leaving a teetering Hermione in her wake. Hermione looked at the book sadly before putting it down to follow Ginny.
"Ginevra Weasley!" she stage whispered, jogging to catch up to the steel-minded girl, who was already kneeling on the floor in the bathroom. "Just let your mother wake them up! They've still got time to sleep."
Ginny ignored her, and grinned as she quickly filled up a bucket of water from the bathtub's tap.
"Just because we got up early doesn't mean they have to!"
She grabbed another bucket and moved the full one aside, careful not to let it spill.
"Oh, come on, Gin! Please!"
Standing up, she held one bucket in both hands and looked at Hermione. "We could let them sleep… but this would be much more fun." She shoved the brown bucket firmly into Hermione's hands, and bent down to pick the other one up. "Besides, if they both want to take showers, they should be up anyways." Looking into Hermione's eyes with a pleading look, she added, "Please?"
The two girls stood there for a minute as the newly appointed Head Girl mulled it over.
"Alright. But I get to do Ron."
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One word. Cold. Ass-Freezing, Bottom-Of-The-Lake, God-I-Hope-This-Never-Happens-Again, Hell-Must-Have-Frozen-Over COLD. I mean, one minute I was having this perfectly happy dream somewhere on a bikini-filled beach, and another I'm freezing and screaming out the name of my two older brothers. Over time it had become too long to scream at the top of your lungs "FREDRICK AND GEORGE WEASLY YOU DIRTY LITTLE RATS GET BACK HERE" so I'd shortened it to "FOOOORRRGGGEEE!". See how clever I am? Combining their two names into one. Much easier to scream at the top of your lungs. You need less breath support, too. Of course, it was just after I'd screamed "FOOOORRRGGGEEE!" that I realized, wait, 'Forge' isn't (aren't?) here. That must mean… wait, wait. It's on the tip of my tongue. Almost… almost there… wait… pink ponies… off subject… what was I thinking about? Oh yeah, the COLD… AHA!
"GIIIINNYYYYYYYY!"
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A dry-haired Ron was still glaring at his little sister as the Hogwarts Express sped off to its magical destination. Sure, he knew that it was Hermione who dumped the bucket, but nothing either of them could say would get him to believe the frizzy-haired girl was behind it all. Luna and Neville didn't understand why he was so mad. Whatever. They weren't the ones who woke up with Ass-Freezing, Bottom-of-the-Lake, God-I- er, you get the point- COLD water splashed on them.
"Oh, come off it, Ron!" the devil-in-disguise-as-a-Weasley said, it's words accompanied by an eye-roll. Ron studied the figure some more. Dang The devil sure was good at imitating his sister… had that stupid eye roll down and everything. Even the irritated tone!
"Harry's gotten over it!" she nodded her head towards the aforementioned boy, as if Ron wasn't capable of figuring out which one of the five others in the cart was his best (guy) friend. Ron took her advice and looked at the boy-who-lived, who merely shrugged. But Ron could tell the smile he was hiding. The devil must've gotten to him, too. Great. Now he was all alone in a room full of evil-devil-reincarnations. He'd decided seconds ago that Neville and Luna were also reincarnations since they didn't understand his fury. He went back to glaring at his shoes, which were wet, seeing as they'd been resting by his bedside where they'd been tossed the night before.
"Ron, I said I was sorry!" a guilt-stricken-devil-in-disguise-as-his-former-best-friend-Hermione said. "I didn't mean to get your shoes wet…"
Harry stifled a laugh, being the only one other than Ron in the cart who realized that she'd only mentioned being sorry about his shoes, and not the rest of him.
"Well, you know what? You did." Ron would've felt bad if it was merely Hermione speaking. But, no, it was the devil-in-disguise-as-Hermione. He was muttering something about devils and reincarnations when the rest of the cabin laughed to themselves and went back to whatever it was evil-devil-reincarnations did.
Much apologizing later, Ron walked into the great hall smushed between Harry and Ginny. He'd decided along the train ride that the devil must've left his friends, seeing as they were acting normal with any subject other than that of COLD water. And it was easier to live with friends when you weren't worried about them dragging you down to Hell every other minute.
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Ginny sat down at the Gryffindor table and felt her eager summer self drip slowly away. The walls of the castle held promises, but only if she made them. She knew that if she didn't put her foot in, nothing would ever happen in the castle. Especially now that Fred and George were gone. Oh, how she missed them. They'd let her visit the shop during the summer, so she stayed with them for a couple of weeks, but most of the time they were shut up in the workshop, and it was rare that she was allowed in. Needless to say, thanks to the loud noises downstairs, it was a very sleepless couple of weeks.
"Please, please, settle down, settle down," Dumbledore said, motioning for quiet with his hands. "As always, a few announcements first."
Ginny felt herself droning out as she stared absentmindedly at an empty plate, and allowed herself to do so momentarily. It was an art at which she had perfected. You have to learn just what to not listen to, but keep some key words in mind to let you know when to tune back in. Came in very useful if Dad was on another of his rants, or Mum was reprimanding one of her brothers. I mean, you want to know what it was that they'd done, but you don't really want to hear her spit out twenty different synonyms for "don't do that again", do you?
One of those words with Dumbledore was "new". By now, Ginny knew that in every one of his speeches at the beginning of the year, there would definitely be something "new". Dumbledore simply could not function without that word in his Welcome Home Speech. It was like losing the twinkle in his eye, or running out of lemon drops. It simply did not happen.
"There will be-" the headmaster droned on.
'I wonder how old that plate is,' Ginny thought to herself in her current state of oblivion. 'Probably pretty old. I mean, Hogwarts has been around for a while. I wonder how many thousands of kids have eaten off it. Eew.'
"-a-"
' I wonder if Crabbe has eaten off it. Double eew.' That was about when her Ron-sized appetite started going. Luckily, she didn't have to think about it long before Dumbledore spitted out the sought-after word.
"-new-"
There, he'd done it. Said the secret, unlocking word. Ginny slowly pulled herself back into the real world now that it was worth listening to the headmaster's speech. Before totally tuning in, she realized that she was not the only person who had perfected the Art. Although, glancing at her classmate Rachael, it was apparent some needed to work on when to tune it. Dangst. She'd probably end up telling Rachael later. She hated doing that.
"-program. This year we will be starting up a sort of- game- amongst students of different backgrounds. We have talked to the headmistress of Beauxbatons and the headmaster of Durmstrang, and they have agreed to join us in this game. It is a game of… secrets." The dramatic pause between "of" and "secrets" gave him the effect he was going for: the students' full attention. However long their spans in such may be. Even Rachael joined in.
'Oh, good. Maybe I won't have to explain it to her later on after all.'
"In fact, your identity itself will be a secret unless you choose to share it. We suggest not doing so until the last step of the game, however. You see, you have each been assigned a number," Dumbledore explained, once again using his hands and allowing himself to get into it. If Ginny's mind had been on anything besides this new game, she'd have been sure that the headmaster wouldn't have noticed if they all turned their heads to the back of the room and completely ignored him.
"But you don't know what number you are. Each of the students in the other schools have also been assigned. When you leave the great hall today, there will be a cup similar to that of the Tri-Wizard Tournament's. There you will draw one number from the cup, and that will be your correspondent. When your new correspondent picks up a number from the cup, it will be yours. We have made sure that you and your correspondent are different in at least two ways, and by no means will it be your best friend or someone you already know all about.
"But, alas, I am out of time for the moment. Tonight when you enter your dorms there will be a drawn out explanation of the game upon a sheet of sealed parchment. I'm afraid you must wait until then to know all the details. In the meantime," Dumbledore said, spreading his arms out wide. "Dig in."
Food appeared on the plate Ginny had previously been contemplating, distracting her from the last word of Dumbledore's speech. One that had been very little use paying attention to anyways. She'd be getting all the information tonight after all. Oh, well. Food was here, and as it appeared, so was her Weasley-like appetite.
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Ginny raced up the flights of stairs two at a time, elated at the feeling of air rushing through her hair and blood pumping through her veins. The talk at dinner had been on nothing but the new Game. Capital G, she'd decided, after hearing how people pronounced it. And after all, anything that starts with a G ought to be capitalized.
It was after dinner, walking through the halls with the Golden Trio (another capital G) that she ended up full sprint for the commons. Somehow after tracing their way through a few minutes of deeply enticing conversation, Harry had challenged her to a race to see who could get to the commons fastest. The original challenge had been the first person to get to the parchment, but it was quickly realized the difference between the girls' and boys' dorms.
Adrenaline rushed as fast as the blood did, and she knew without looking that her face was currently a flushed red that clashed horribly with her hair. She also knew without looking that Harry, fit as he may think he is, was currently at least three paces behind her. She was unaware whether or not this was to throw her off. He could be getting ready for the last homerun sprint. But then again, so was she. And if there's one thing anyone should know about Ginny (other than that she ought to be queen of the world), it was that she was stubborn. And in no way was anyone going to beat her. Especially, and specifically, the boy who challenged her in the first place.
Body ready to give out, she flung herself around the corner and used the force of the turn to quicken her pace. One more turn and she saw the Fat Lady sitting lazily about at the end of the corridor, carefully picking the petals off a daffodil that happened to match perfectly with her golden frame.
'No way am I going to let Harry beat me!' she smiled to herself. 'I can totally do this. Can't have him thinking I'm just Ron's little sister all my life! Besides, it'd be a pretty nice thing to hold over his head for all eternity.' If Ron had heard that, no doubt he'd be sure the devil was once again reincarnated. And in a way, it was.
The home sprint came barreling at them, and the two of them were off at a breakneck speed. Ginny had been right in her thoughts that the older boy was saving up energy for the last few meters. He quickly passed her by, but she was only fueled by his thoughts of outdoing her, and soon they were neck and neck, testing each other as they both ran for the last flight of stairs. The Fat Lady came closer and closer, closing in on them. A gasp and small whimper ran through the corridor and down the steps as she realized what was happening not all too far from her.
It was just then, just below the stairs that Harry dropped out of her sight completely and she heard him stumble a bit. She made it to the top of the small flight, assuming he was merely behind, before she turned around completely, only to find the black-haired boy in the arms of Dean, who'd been turning around a different corner just in time to catch the wizarding world wonder.
"Harry!" she raced down the stairs filled with guilt and worry. If only she'd been paying attention…
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Ginny sat by Harry's bedside in the hospital wing, her face in her hands, peering out every minute or so to check if he was awake yet. According to MadamPomfrey, he was fine. So what on earth had happened in the corridor? He'd ended up falling backwards, so he couldn't have tripped… Dean hadn't been able to supply any information, either, having just turned the corner. He'd seen nothing but the boy actually falling.
"Ginny?" Hermione asked, her words cutting the silent air.
"Hermione!" Ginny stood up quickly at the familiar voice, and preceded to fill in her worried friend who'd skipped off to talk to McGonagall about something to do with her Head Girl status after the race had begun. She was just finishing up when the two of them heard a rustling of bedsheets.
"Harry?" The two girls rushed to his side anxiously.
Harry rubbed his eyes slowly, blinking furiously to get used to the bright lights. It took him a minute to realize the pain in his head, and he let out a low moan. Memories flooded back to him like someone opening the door on a cold winter day. Grinning weakly, he looked up at Ginny.
"I guess this means you win, eh?"
But before Ginny could respond protest, Madame Pomfrey was between the two of them, fussing about and quickly ushering the two girls out the door as she told them Harry would indeed be staying the night. The poor boy's protests could be heard as the door swung shut, quickly shutting out any noise from the sterile room.
The soles of the two girls' shoes padded softly down the corridors in anxious but comfortable silence. Harry'd been through worse, he'd be alright, but that wasn't enough to stop the buzz of worry.
"Did you read that letter Dumbledore sent to everyone?"
"No, I didn't get a chance to, what with Harry fainting and all."
A smile played on Hermione's lips as she dug in her pocket for her own letter.
"I went to my room to check out the letter before looking for you guys. I figured you were in your dorms or something. Here." She handed Ginny the letter, still in that pristine, firsthand shape that only Hermione could accomplish.
Opening up the letter, and relying on Hermione to steer her away from any dangerous cliffs or mysterious potholes, Ginny began to read it to herself.
"The rules are simple: Every week you must write a letter, ready to be sealed and sent by Monday morning. And in each letter must be a secret.
"Surely you still have the number you drew from the goblet this evening. If, in fact, you do not have this number, please go to Ms. McGonagall for your number. When you are done with your letter on the parchment provided and have sealed it with the provided stamps, write the number on the parchment and place it atop your pillow ever Monday morning for delivery, starting next Monday. By Monday evening you will have a letter of someone else's waiting on your pillow, for your eyes only. You will be the only one who can open it.
"You will not know who is writing to you, and vice versa. If you do, however, decide you wish to disclose your name, you will not be able to do so until the end of the game because of the spells placed upon the parchment. If you do, by chance and cunning, manage to figure out the identity of the other person, it is chivalric to let them know, and you will be allowed to tell them your own name, but it cannot be helped if you chose not to.
"The point of this game is to see how similar you and a person of different background can be, and also to hear different takes and views on life. You have been paired with someone mostly likely of a different school, but at least with someone with whom you do not share a close past, a similar life, or many traits.
"We ask that these secrets are things you've never told anyone else, thus the point of the correspondence. You may seek advice on things without disclosing your identity, and release pent up fears and long hidden thoughts. Since you do not have to ever reveal your self, you can say anything you wish, anything you want to.
"Welcome to the game.
"Seventeen Secrets."
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A/N: I had the idea a long time ago, and since I already had the plot down, decided I would write it. Merci to my wonderful beta Elise Bentwin, who's L/J fic is cute and ongoing. Please review with thoughts and comments. I'm pretty sure they're the only things keeping the Earth spinning.