Chapter Two
Ginny Weasley, Prefect, 6th year
Gryffindor Quidditch Captain and Seeker
It was not pitch dark, but it was pretty close and Ginny, with Harry's old Firebolt resting on her shoulder, stalked down to the Quidditch pitch, knowing the way by heart even though she hadn't been down there since the previous year. It was not yet five am on Wednesday of the first week of the first term of the new school year and the long dewy grass was soaking the bottom of her Quidditch robes.
Hogwarts students had arrived the previous Sunday but this had been the first chance she had really found to have both a moment to herself and to enjoy a really good flying practice session. From the minute Ginny had stepped onto the Hogwarts Express she had been completely swamped, what with her Prefect responsibilities, supervising the younger students, catching up with her friends, meeting new students and talking Qudditch with interested parties.
Then there was the Sorting Hat tradition and The Start of Year Feast, she was responsible for escorting Gryffindor first year students to the common room, introducing the Fat Lady, telling them the password and in general welcoming them and introducing them to life at Hogwarts. The following morning Ginny had to meet with Professor McGonagall, who was serving as both Gryffindor Head of House and Hogwarts Headmaster, to finalise her subjects and timetable.
As busy as she had been, she had felt the absence of her brothers, she had missed her brothers on the train, in the common room, at meal times and in preparation for Quidditch. She missed the camaraderie, the laughter, the general noise and the knowledge that she had always been part of a larger whole - the Weasley clan. In addition, her ex-boyfriend and close friend Harry Potter had not returned for his final year, she didn't yet know whether that was a blessing or an affliction. However, Hermione Granger was back, like an older sister she was a great source of friendship and comfort.
Most of the changes at Hogwarts could be attributed to the combined effects of the war in general and the Battle of Hogwarts specifically. Some students and Professors had been injured or killed, and of those who remained not all returned to Hogwarts, leaving the student population rather thin, sparse in number and vulnerable in spirit. No one referred directly to either the battle or the war as though by consensus, and all struggled eagerly to participate in and contribute to a strong school spirit.
Ginny's parents were thrilled to have another prefect in the family and Ginny had been selected as Prefect and Quidditch Captain. They would have been chuffed to bits anyway, of course, but it had been a rather difficult few years; with the war, the falling out with one son, Percy, and the death of another son, Fred, there had been precious little to smile about.
Ginny had also experienced these troubles and grief, as well as the end of her relationship with Harry. He had broken it off long before, following the murder of Headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, but Ginny had held firm to the belief that he would come back for her. They had shared a few stolen kisses during the final battle but when it was all said and done she knew it was over, she just knew it. But this year was going to be better, Ginny reaffirmed to herself for the hundredth time. She was anticipating a somewhat lonely year, the thought of which was not as unpleasant as it might have been. She had a lot on her plate; what with studying to maintain her high grade average, her Prefect and her Quidditch responsibilities.
At least four inches of the hem of her robes were now quite wet, rather than flowing freely around her legs with her movement, they alternately slapped her legs and hung heavily unmoving with the weight of the moisture. When she arrived, Ginny placed her sports bag and broom on the front bench and through the mist she noticed another bag and broom just a couple of feet further along. She was not alone, someone else was at the pitch. Damn. Ginny had hoped a five am start would have guaranteed some privacy and alone time, she would have to try for four am next time.
The sound of irregular heavy breathing could be heard approaching and Ginny peeled her eyes, someone was running toward the spot where she was now standing. The squelching of the wet turf under foot could now be heard and the warm clouds of breath could be seen, both were getting closer, and then she saw Cho Chang running over to the bench and grabbing for her water bottle.
Cho began sucking in water between hard won breaths, she turned slowly looking around, still drinking, thinking herself completely alone, when she suddenly caught sight of Ginny Weasley standing surprisingly close by. Ginny understood Cho's response, there was not a person for nearly a square mile, and suddenly here she was, silent and almost within arms reach of the Ravenclaw student, the shock causing Cho to choke on her water.
"Sorry, Chang. I thought I would be alone, but it looks like you beat me to it. Running?" Ginny asked, unpacking her bag, giving Cho a chance to recover.
"Scared the life out of me, Weasley. Yeah, I've got more laps and I was hoping to get some flying in."
"I will try to keep out of your way. Hey, back again? Weren't you in seventh year last year?"
"Yeah, feels weird to be back, but I had a pretty crap couple of years and my marks were poor, so…" she shrugged, looking as awkward as she probably felt.
"I get it," Ginny put her at ease at once, "Well, I guess I will see you up there!" She pointed her index finger straight up and gave what she hoped was a supportive, friendly smile.
She had never been particularly friendly with Cho but she had always liked her despite their overlapping romantic interest in Harry Potter. Ginny had liked him since she was a skinny, wordless ten year old on Platform 9¾, begging her mother to let her board the train to get a closer look at the handsome boy with the famous scar. Harry had smiled at her in genuine friendship, not the look of either pity or derision her brothers so often bestowed upon her, and from that moment her heart had been his.
She continued to crush on Harry in her first and second years at Hogwarts but he had never shown any interest beyond friendship, not until much later. In between he had developed a rather obvious crush on Cho Chang, which had been devastating for a prepubescent Ginny, but Cho had shown very little interest in Harry until after the death of Cedric Diggory. Any competition between the girls had not been personal; they had been two years apart in classes, had been in different Houses and had moved in different social circles. Had they spent more time together, they would have found that they had plenty in common; they were friendly, clever, social women and both were obsessed with Quidditch.
Ginny grabbed her broom and a small pouch of clinking muggle marbles and walked out to the middle of the pitch, she reached a leg over the broom handle and pushed off of the spongy wet surface. It had been ages since Ginny had been on a broom and the feeling of joy that swelled up inside her as she rose high into the air was an unfamiliar feeling. The feeling of freedom - achieving speed and height, the wind in her hair, a needed reprieve from responsibility and a respite from grief.
She pressed pause on her thoughts, closed off her mind, pushed her ideas and memories to the edges and she leaned forward, squeezing her body along the handle she circled the outside perimeter of the whole pitch at a very swift pace. She rounded the corners so sharply that the broom turned up on its side and made her stomach lurch pleasantly. In the straights she turned left and right, left and right, making fish tails with the back of her broom and followed that up with lifting and dropping the front of the broom handle which she imagined riding a wave at the seaside might feel like.
Ginny had forgotten how good Harry's Firebolt was to ride. He had given it to her after telling her that their being together was a risk to her life in relation to Voldemort, one he was not willing to take. He, Hermione and Ron had gone on some sort of Hero's Journey, following the clues and plotting the downfall of Voldemort. Harry didn't know how long he would be, or whether he would still be alive at the end of it all, the chances of his surviving the final confrontation with Tom Riddle were slim.
Not that he thought she could be compensated with a racing broom, even a very good, top of the line, near to new racing broom, but there was no need to let it go to waste. The broomstick was light, it's weight evenly distributed from the tip of the handle to the whiskery, twiggy ends. Ginny had yet to push the broom to its top speed although she felt sure she would at some point throughout this Quidditch season. The broom would stop on a dime which was handy, particularly when speeding toward the ground and pulling up at the very last moment and it cornered amazingly.
Still denying her mental activity, Ginny focused all of her energy and effort on her training. Her plan was to hurl the marbles into the air as far as she possibly could, spin twice on the tail of her broom to disturb her equilibrium, then spot, chase down and catch the marble before it hit the ground. A marble is not a snitch but it's something.