What's the point of playing a game you're gonna lose?


Hermione Granger had that look on her face again. She was watching Ginny as though expecting some kind of weird disease to manifest itself at any given time. As if sharing her bedroom with the bushy-haired girl wasn't enough, Ginny also had to put up with Granger's nonsense.

"You're not magical, but you can see the Leaky Cauldron, right? Obviously, you'd also be able to see Hogwarts. That's quite interesting. I wonder how the repelling wards work." She eyed Ginny from head to toe, then scribbled some notes on her parchment. "And Ron told me you're an excellent flyer, although you can't summon a broom? Fascinating."

Ginny felt like a lab rat. Of course she had stamped her foot and begged Mum to make Granger sleep anywhere but in her bedroom.

"Please, please, please! I'll do anything! I'll degnome the garden!"

"Ginny, stop it."

"Make her sleep with Ron, then! He's the one who invited her over!"

"Don't be ridiculous!" Mum had said sharply, and this was the end of the discussion.

She didn't want to come to this, but Mum left her no choice. If no one was willing to make Granger go away, Ginny figured she would have to take the bull by the horns. She made it a point to show the girl how unwelcomed she was by leaving the room every time Granger came in. And when Granger wanted to have some 'girl talk' at night, Ginny pretended to be fast asleep. This lasted three days before Mum cornered her.

"I know what you're doing, young lady."

"What are you talking about?" Ginny asked with an innocent smile.

"Stop it! It's not working! Hermione is staying in your room, so you better stop being rude to her!"

Ginny dramatically clutched her chest. "When was I ever rude to her?"

Mum narrowed her eyes. "This is my last warning, Ginny. You be nice to Hermione or I'll make you stay home from the World Cup."

"You wouldn't!"

"Watch me."

And that's how her rebellion against Mum's authoritarian regime failed. It's not like it was working, anyway. Granger couldn't care less if Ginny refused to talk to her; she was too busy following Ron around like a lap dog. As the days went on, these two got disgustingly close. Honestly, you would think they were attached by the hips sometimes. If this wasn't proof Granger was bad news, then what was?

Things got worse when Harry arrived at the Burrow the day before the World Cup. Ginny was only half-surprised to find him in the kitchen that morning. Sitting with Dad, Bill and Charlie, he was chewing on a buttered toast, a cup of tea placed in front of him. The scene felt too natural, as if he had always lived in the Burrow.

"Morning, dear," Dad said upon spotting Ginny in the doorway.

Harry looked up and smiled at her. Ginny's heart skipped several beats. Suddenly, she felt self-conscious of her appearance. Her hair was a mess, she was wearing ugly magenta pyjamas, and she hadn't washed her face yet. A deep flush rose up her neck and she felt like she was eleven all over again. Except she wasn't. She was thirteen now, and she had grown three inches since she last saw him.

Ginny straightened up. "Morning," she managed to say in an even voice.

Feeling bold, she sat right in front of Harry and helped herself to some toast. She tried to dismiss the proud smile tugging at her lips when she didn't put her elbow in the butter dish. You're making progress, Weasley, she mentally patted herself on the back.

Heavy footsteps pounded down the stairs, then the door flew open as Ron and Granger ran into the kitchen.

"You made it!" Ron hugged Harry. "Come on, I'll show you my room!"

Harry gulped down the rest of his tea, then followed Ron upstairs.

"Coming, Ginny?" Granger asked.

She was wearing that creepy, mad-scientist grin again. Ginny suppressed a shudder.

"No, thanks. I've seen Ron's bedroom."

"Oh." Granger's smile faded. "Alright, then."

Ginny watched them go. Harry and Ron were whispering about Snuffles and Buckbeak ‒ whatever the hell that meant ‒ as Granger sneaked between them, taking part in their hushed conversation.

There she goes again! Stealing another boy!

Ginny felt a stab of jealousy. She wondered if she would have been part of their gang if things had been different, if she had gone to Hogwarts. Maybe she would be dating Harry by now, or at least be his friend.

If only I wasn't a Squib…

Scowling, Ginny grabbed Harry's empty cup and refilled it. She turned it around and rested her lips where his had been, gulping down the hot tea. Bill and Charlie looked at her with raised eyebrows from the other side of the table. She shot them her best glare, daring them to say something. They knew better and avoided her gaze.


Wizards' logics were questionable sometimes. Using a Portkey when they were supposed to go incognito; whose genius idea was that?

Ginny squeezed her eyes shut as the Portkey pulled her off the ground. She spun and spun, her shoulders banging into Ron's and Dad's. When she thought she couldn't take it anymore, her feet slammed into the ground and she fell backwards on her bum.

"Ugh!" She got to her feet, wincing. "Can we use a regular plane next time?"

"What's that?" Ron asked. He looked slightly green.

Ginny massaged her sore shoulders. "A safer means of transport."

"Seven past five from Stoatshead Hill!" a man announced.

He was wearing a kilt and a poncho, and looked utterly ridiculous. Dad handed him their used Portkey and their World Cup tickets.

"Ah, Weasley." The man consulted a parchment. "Your campsite is on the first field. About a quarter of a mile over there."

Dad thanked him and they took off towards the campsite's entry where another man was waiting for them. This one was wearing a blue jumper and an old pair of jeans. Ginny grinned. At last, someone who looks like a real Muggle!

"Morning!" Dad greeted. "Mr Roberts?"

"The man himself!"

"Two tents for Weasley, please? We booked a couple of days ago."

Mr Roberts consulted a list; his was printed on a regular piece of paper. Nice touch!

"Weasley, you said? That would be thirty quid. You're paying now?"

Dad's cheeks reddened. "Er...S-sure. Of course."

He pulled a roll of Muggle money from his pockets and stared at the notes nervously. Oh. Ginny understood what was going on now. Mr Roberts was a real Muggle, that's why he blended in so well.

"Here." Dad handed Mr Roberts a note.

Mr Roberts scowled. "That's a fiver. I said thirty."

Dad went crimson. "R-Right. Sorry."

"You're not the first one who tried to cheat me today, ya know?" Mr Roberts looked around with narrowed eyes. "Bunch of weirdos have been coming up to me all day. One tried to pay me with gold coins."

"R-really?" Dad was sweating now.

Ginny acted on instinct. She took the roll of money from his hands and handed thirty quid to Mr Roberts. "Here you go, Sir."

He took the money, but he was still eyeing the campsite behind him. "I heard some of them talk about Bludgers. I think it's a code for atomic bombs. You wouldn't know anything about‒"

"Obliviate!" someone cried.

A white spark shot past Ginny's ear and hit Mr Roberts in full force. Mr Roberts went rigid. His eyes slid out of focus and he looked at Ginny in some sort of daze. She stared back at him in horror.

"Have a good rest of your day, Miss," he said with great difficulty.

Ginny whirled around to face Mr Roberts' aggressor. "What have you done to him?"

A tall wizard dressed in plus-fours looked down at her. "Not here," he said through clenched teeth, then led them into the campsite.

There were more wizards here, all dressed in mismatched Muggle clothes ‒ one witch was wearing a pair of swimming trunks over her jeans.

"I think that's the tenth time I had to use a memory charm on this man," the tall wizard said. "No one is taking our security rules seriously. I will be glad when this is all over." He drew his wand out when they reached an empty spot. "Here is your site. See you later, Arthur." And with that, he disapparated with a soft pop.

"Who was that git?" Ginny asked angrily.

"Barty Crouch," Dad said with a fond smile. "Great wizard, this one!"

"What's so great about erasing people's memories?"

"He did that to protect us, Ginny." Dad hoisted his backpack from his shoulders and pulled a mallet out of it. "Imagine what would have happened if Mr Roberts had figured out we were wizards. Our community would have been in danger."

Dad's words triggered something in Ginny; a memory she had buried deep inside of her…

"Why'd you think they send us away as soon as they find out we're not magical?" Uncle Gaius had asked her once. "To protect us, they say, but in reality, it's to protect them. They think they're above us. Think we're gonna steal their precious little magic."

So Uncle Gaius was right? Wizards thought they were superior to non magical people? Ginny's stomach churned. They were so arrogant that the thought of Muggles being able to function without magic didn't occur to them. Did Dad feel the same way? A strange weight settled on her heart.

"Alright, let's put these tents up!" Dad rubbed his hands together, a giddy smile playing on his lips. "Here, Ginny, where do you reckon we should start?"

"What makes you think I know how to do that?" Ginny asked, beside herself. She had never been camping in her life, never even been in the woods before.

"You knew how to count Muggle money. This shouldn't be difficult. Muggles do it all the time."

"I'm not a Muggle!"

Dad flinched. "Of course, dear! I know you're not. I didn't mean‒"

"We'll do it!" Granger said out of nowhere, elbowing Harry.

Ginny had forgotten those two were here.

Harry frowned as Granger gave him a pointed look. Then he seemed to understand what she was trying to convey, and hastily said, "Right. Yes. We'll take care of it, Mr Weasley."

Ginny's anger flared up again. Brilliant! Harry had witnessed her outburst and now he probably thought she was a spoiled brat. And the worst of it all, Granger had managed to save the day. The cow probably did that on purpose so Harry would think she wasn't afraid to get her hands dirty.

Ginny crossed her arms over her chest and watched them build the first tent; the boys' one. That's when it hit her that she would have to share her room with Granger again. Just brilliant!

Dad handed Ron a couple of buckets as Harry and Granger started working on the girls' tent. "Why don't you and Ginny go and get us some water?"

"Why me?" Ron groaned. "Ask Fred and George to do it!"

"I don't trust the twins with my water!" Ginny said promptly.

"Fine! You do it, then!" Ron tried to push the buckets in her hands. "I'll help Harry and Hermione build the second tent."

"Your sister can't carry two buckets of water alone, Ron," Dad said. "Besides, the twins and I are going to fetch some wood for dinner. That's how Muggles make fire," he added with a touch of pride in his voice, as if knowing this simple fact made him a genius.

Granger cleared her throat, a deep blush tainting her cheeks. "Mr Weasley? Ron and I could work on the girls' tent while Harry and Ginny get us water?"

For a moment, Ginny could only stare. She wasn't sure if she had heard it right. Had Granger gone mental?

Ron looked puzzled, too. "What are you on about?"

Granger shot him a dark look in the guise of an answer, her lips setting in a thin line. Whatever message she was trying to send was received at once. Something akin to fear crossed Ron's blue eyes and he swallowed thickly.

"Yes! Let's do that!" He shoved the buckets into Harry's hands. "See you later, mate."

Dad looked sceptical, but he conceded nonetheless. "Alright, then. Everybody meet here in one hour."

Ginny was still pondering what the hell was going on. Not for the first time, she felt jealous of Granger. How close was she to Ron and Harry that they didn't need words to communicate? And why had she done that, anyway? Probably to make herself look like the almighty saviour once again. But something didn't add up. Who was she trying to save here? Unless… Did Granger know Ginny fancied Harry?! Was she trying to help them get closer? Closer. The thought alone made Ginny's heart race.

"Should we go?" Harry asked, looking straight into her eyes.

These beautiful green eyes.

Ginny nodded, unable to make her voice work, and followed him to the campsite's tap. Harry carried the two buckets as a gentleman would. She took this opportunity to truly look at him. He had changed so much in two years, yet not at all. He had grown taller, yet he was still shorter than her brothers. He also looked more confident, yet he was still staring around eagerly like a lost child at King's Cross.

A shriek coming from a nearby tent caught Ginny's attention.

"Leo!" a witch yelled at a toddler. "How many times do I need to tell you? Do not touch Mummy's wand!"

The boy ran away from his mum, laughing at the top of his lungs. He tripped over himself and accidently poked a passing slug with his mum's wand. There was a sizzling sound, then the slug grew bigger and bigger.

"Leo!" The witch hurried after him.

Ginny scowled at the scene. "I guess they won't get punished for that."

"What?" Harry asked.

Her face grew hot. She hadn't meant to say that out loud. "It's just… They aren't supposed to do magic, right? Why isn't Crouch punishing them?" When Harry merely looked at her, his brows drawn together, Ginny shrugged. "I don't think it's fair."

She carried on towards the campsite's tap, determined to avoid his gaze. Shit, shit, shit! Her and her bloody mouth! Why couldn't she stay quiet for one minute? Now Harry definitely thought she was a massive brat who always complained and‒

"You're right," he said behind her, and she was so surprised that she whirled around to look at him.

"You think so?"

"Yeah. Crouch obliviated Mr Roberts, but he didn't tell us off for giving away our wizard statute." Harry shrugged. "It is unfair."

Ginny felt like she had been relieved from a burden. "I know, right! I mean, look around you! No one's respecting the Statute of Secrecy. Take these blokes over there." She pointed at a group of wizards who were smoking long cigars emitting purple smoke. "They're smoking shrivelfig in broad daylight. And who's going to be obliviated if they get caught? Muggles! Why should Muggles pay for their stupidity?"

Harry nodded, but Ginny wasn't done. She couldn't help it; the swamp of words just flew out of her mouth.

"And Jesus Christ! Do you see what they're wearing? It's so insulting! Is that really what they think Muggles look like? Don't they teach you about Muggles' lives at Hogwarts?"

"They do," Harry said. "It's not a mandatory class, though."

"It should be!" Ginny hissed. "I can't believe Dad doesn't know how to count Muggle money. He's supposed to be the head of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts office, for God's sake!"

They had reached the tap now. Ginny was slightly out of breath, her cheeks flushed with anger.

"Well," Harry said as he filled the buckets with water, "I'm glad you're not magical. You'd have hexed the shit out of me."

He handed her one of the buckets, eyes alight with humour. It was the first time a wizard had mentioned her Squib statute in such a casual way, without tiptoeing around his words. Ginny should have been insulted by Harry's joke, but instead she felt comforted. For a brief moment, being a Squib was something normal, something she was allowed to laugh about. So she did.

"Now you know not to cross me, Potter!"

Harry grinned, making Ginny's stomach flutter, and a silly smile spread on her lips.


Bill, Charlie, and Percy had arrived by the time Harry and Ginny got back to their campsite. Ron and Granger had done a surprisingly good job on the girls' tent, too. A group of drunk fans stopped by and started chanting the wizarding version of the Bulgarian anthem. Fred and George wasted no time joining in. They sang terribly off key and made up the lyrics as they went, much to Ginny's amusement. After a quick lunch, everybody headed to the Quidditch stadium.

When they reached the top box, all Ginny could do was gape around in wonder. She had never seen a pitch so wide and so green. And good Lord, the stadium! There were people everywhere, sporting green and red, and waving their flags around.

"Holy shit!" she said in awe.

"I know, right?" Harry said next to her. His grin probably matched hers.

"Merlin! Is that Arthur Weasley?" a drawling voice suddenly said.

Ginny turned around. A tall, white-blond haired man had just entered their box. He was accompanied by a blond woman and a blond boy.

"Lucius Malfoy," Dad groaned.

A chill went through Ginny. So this was the infamous Lucius Malfoy. Which meant the blond boy was Draco Malfoy. She glared at him.

"What did you have to sell to get these seats?" Mr Malfoy asked. "Surely your pathetic house wouldn't have fetched this much?"

"This isn't the time nor the place, Lucius," Dad said through clenched teeth.

Mr Malfoy's grey eyes swept over them, and stopped on Ginny and Granger. His lips twisted in disgust. Ginny stared determinedly back at him, despite her drumming heart. There was something dark in this man's eyes.

Pure hatred.

"How low have you fallen, Arthur," he drawled. "A Mudblood and a Squib."

Ginny recoiled, but Dad held firm. "At least we don't kill ours!" he spat.

Mr Malfoy flinched at the accusation, then drew out his wand. "How dare you!"

Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic himself, entered the box at this precise moment, putting an end at their altercation. "Arthur Weasley! Lucius Malfoy! It's so good to see you!"

Mr Malfoy discreetly pocketed his wand and they exchanged forced pleasantries. Ginny drifted out of the conversation. Dad's words echoed in her head. At least we don't kill ours! Ours? Was he talking about Squibs? Did the Malfoys…? She felt the colour drain from her face.

It was impossible to know for sure one was a Squib until they reached the age of eleven. Did the Malfoys wait until then to kill their Squibs? Ginny's mind was suddenly filled with images of children begging for mercy, as their own parents slaughtered them for not being magical. Was being a Squib so shameful?

This wasn't a hidden practice if even Dad knew about it. Ginny looked at him from under her lashes, and her blood turned ice cold. Apparently some families sent their Squibs away while some killed them.

Ginny hugged herself. She should be grateful they didn't cut her throat as soon as she turned eleven, right? Wasn't it a blessing to be born a Weasley? Her hands squeezed into fists at her sides.

"You're alright, Ginny?" Granger asked, and Ginny jumped out of her skin.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she lied.

Granger studied her for a second, her forehead creased. Ginny faked a smile. The girl clearly didn't buy it, but she didn't press.

"Ireland brought leprechauns. Look!" Granger grinned, linking her arm with Ginny's.

Ginny wasn't sure what to make of this sudden show of affection. Granger was laughing at the thousands of tiny bearded men shooting glittering rainbows in the sky. There was no trace of pain in her eyes. It was as if she hadn't been insulted just a moment ago. Ginny couldn't help but be impressed.


It was late at night when they went back to their tents. Lying on her bed, Ginny could still hear the singing and celtic music coming from the other side of the campsite. The Irish would be celebrating their victory until sunrise, no doubt. They had earned it fair and square. It was a great game. Quidditch like Ginny had never seen before. Yet, despite the spectacular moves the players had made, she couldn't stop thinking about what Mr Malfoy had said.

"A Mudblood and a Squib."

Ginny felt a knot in her stomach. "Hermione?" she called before she could stop herself.

Granger shifted on the other bed. "Hmm?"

Ginny blushed. She was so sure Granger was sleeping, she hadn't meant to have an actual chat with the girl.

"I… er… I was just wondering if you're alright?"

She cringed. That was the lamest thing she could have come up with.

To her surprise, Granger answered, "I'm fine."

"Cool. Fine is cool."

Seriously, shut up, Weasley!

Ginny was about to bid goodnight and try to get some sleep, when Granger propped her head on her right hand. "Is something wrong?"

Ginny couldn't quite see Granger's face in the darkness of the tent, but she was certain the girl's forehead was creased again.

She played with the hem of her pyjamas' sleeve. "I wanted to ask how you do it?"

"How do I do what?"

"You know," Ginny shrugged, "earlier with Mr Malfoy. He called you a Mud‒" The slur got caught in her throat. "He called you that and you didn't even flinch. How do you do that?"

Granger shifted on her bed again. After a pause, she answered, "If I had insulted him back or caused a scene, it would have proved his point. This man thinks Muggle-borns are savages who shouldn't be magical."

"But if you don't say anything, he's going to think it's okay for him to call you that."

"Remember what your dad said? It wasn't the time nor the place." Then, to Ginny's surprise, Granger scoffed. "Don't worry, I have a special hex in store for him next time he calls me a Mudblood."

Ginny gapped at her. "You said it. You said the word."

"Why shouldn't I? He uses it against me."

And just like that, Ginny understood why Ron was friends with Hermione.

"I'm sorry," Ginny said sincerely. "I shouldn't have treated you the way I did. It wasn't fair of me."

There was a moment of silence, then Hermione said, "I forgive you."

She sounded like she was smiling, so Ginny smiled back. And for the first time this summer, she wanted to have one of these girl talks with Hermione.

That's when they heard it; the screams and explosions, mixed with unsettling roars of laughter.

Ginny jumped out of her bed, Hermione hot on her heels. They hurried out of the tent and stared in horror at the chaos before them. People were running in all directions, causing stampedes, as hooded wizards were shooting hexes at them. Above them, floating bodies were being distorted into grotesque shapes. Ginny screamed when she recognised one of them; Mr Roberts, the campsite manager.

"Ginny! Hermione!" Dad ran towards them, wand in hand. "Get into the woods! Now!"

"Come on!" Fred grabbed Ginny's hand, pulling her towards the woods.

Ginny looked up at the dark sky; Mr Roberts' head was bent at a weird angle, blood pouring out of his nose.

"Keep going, Ginny!" George shouted next to her.

She wanted to ask what was going on, but she couldn't make her voice work. Instead, she focused on her legs, begging them to keep going. People were screaming, the air smelt of fire, and a sob broke through Ginny's mouth.

"Fucking Death Eaters!" Fred spat.

Ginny's heart leaped. Dad had told her about Death Eaters. They were You-Know-Who's followers, but more importantly… They are after people like me! Ginny gasped as she realised this could have been her up in the sky, and she would have been as helpless as Mr Roberts.

"Here!" George pointed at a large tree, and the three of them crouched down behind it.

Shaking with fear, Ginny focused on holding back her tears. Morbid images of Muggles being dismembered by hooded wizards raced through her mind.

Ginny bit her lower lip and breathed through her nose. Uncle Gaius hadn't been totally right. Yes, wizards thought they were superior to non magical people, but in essence, they had every reason to think so. As Ginny watched the chaos around her, she could no longer deny it. Wizards were powerful beings, and Squibs were beneath them.


Uncle Gaius was waiting at the Burrow when they got back. A deep scowl on his face, he watched as Mum ran towards Dad and flung her arms around his neck.

"Oh, Arthur! I was so worried!" she cried. "I thought… I thought… Oh, Merlin!"

"We're all alright, Molly," Dad said, patting her back. "But how did you know‒"

"The Daily Prophet," Mum said, releasing him from her grip.

That's when Ginny spotted a copy of the Daily Prophet clutched in Uncle Gaius' hand. She raised a brow at him and he gave her a shrug. This confirmed her suspicion, though. Mum had written to Uncle Gaius upon reading about the attack.

"I'll get my things," Ginny said at once.

Uncle Gaius nodded. "I'll wait for you in the car."

She took the stairs two at a time and wasted no time packing her trunk. In her hurry, she almost tripped over Hermione's camping bed. Ginny paused. The flimsy thing could barely be called a bed, and its mattress was falling apart. She had been so focused on hating on Hermione all summer, she hadn't noticed how uncomfortable the girl must have been at night, sleeping on this crappy bed. Not for the first time since her apology, Ginny's cheeks burned with shame.

There was a knock at her door. "Do you need help packing, dear?" Mum asked, voice croaky.

She looked rather pale and shaky. In the sitting room's dim light, Ginny hadn't noticed the bags under her eyes, her dishevelled hair, and her mismatched socks. For some reason, she found Mum's unkempt appearance unnerving.

"I'm fine, thanks," she answered flatly.

Mum helped her fold her robes nonetheless. Ginny scowled. Mum was hovering and Ginny hated hovering.

"I'm not taking those. Don't bother."

"What?" Mum startled, as if Ginny's voice had tugged her out of a daydream.

Out of a nightmare, that's more like it!

Ginny pressed her lips together. "My robes. I don't need them in the Muggle world, and they take up too much space in my wardrobe. Leave them here."

Mum's breath hitched in her throat. She looked down at the faded pink robes in her hands and whispered, "I suppose you're right."

When the silence between them became unbearable, Ginny turned around and finished packing.

"Tell Hermione she can have my bed," she said, closing her trunk with a thump. "She'll end up with awful back pain if she keeps sleeping on this garbage."

"Ginny?"

Mum's voice was so quiet that Ginny was almost too scared to turn around and face her. When she finally did, she saw the tears in her eyes and the pain clouding her features. Ginny swallowed hard.

"Yes?"

Mum was gripping the pink robes as if her life depended on it. "I want you to be safe. You know that, right? And I think you'll be safe with Gaius."

Ginny felt her own eyes well up and blinked furiously. "I know."

Mum nodded. She looked as though she wanted to say something more, something Ginny wasn't ready for. So before she could utter another word, Ginny took her trunk and headed for the door.

"I'll see you at Christmas."

She was on the road with Uncle Gaius a few minutes later.

"Those wizards." Uncle Gaius shook his head. "They can't help it. Always have to show off."

Ginny looked out the window. Houses and various herds of goats flashed past them. The peaceful sight felt out of place, almost mocking.

"You're alright, though?" Uncle Gaius asked.

"Can we eat at the chippy tonight?"

His eyebrows shot up at the abrupt change of subject, but he played along. "Sure! What do you fancy?"

"One cheese burger, one large chips, one small onion rings, and three fish fillets."

Uncle Gaius scoffed. "Ambitious."

"I've learnt from the best." Ginny smirked.

"Come on, now! That was just one time!"

She yelped as he reached over to poke her side. "Focus on the road, silly! You're going to get us into an accident."

Uncle Gaius grinned, and Ginny reckoned it wasn't so bad to sit there, next to him. The car smelt of lemon freshener, the weather was nice, and he had given her yet another comic book for her birthday. She liked the familiarity of it. It gave her a sense of safety.

Smiling, Ginny leant back in her chair and allowed herself a little kip. She was safe with Uncle Gaius.