A/N: So, I have a lot to say about this chapter. First off, if you're keeping track, the next thing I posted should have been Chapter 10 of Servant of Death. It's in the works. But to be honest, I have that story completely mapped out and I know where it's going, and damn, Harry and Ginny are kind of in a bad place there, so I have to be in the right mind frame to write it. This story, on the other hand, is still kind of a wild card. I realized a couple of chapters ago that this is the first time I've ever written a story in which Harry and Ginny were not either together, really good friends and about to get together, or had been together and were headed that way again. This is totally new and I'm curious to see where they end up (okay, I know where they ultimately end up, but I'm not exactly sure how they're getting there).
Also, I have a child graduating from high school very soon, and all the annoying pomp and circumstance that goes with that, plus I'm starting a new job at almost the exact same time. So I will either be writing a lot because I need the distraction, or else not much because I'm too busy being a proper adult. Let's hope for the former, but without too much stress, okay?
Oh, and I have to apologize. I did not intend to end this chapter where I did, after more than 8,000 words and almost no direct interaction between Harry and Ginny. But I have an enabler, and they convinced me it would be fun to end it where I did. Blame the Slytherin, what can I say?
Also, thank you for the help with Quidditch specifics: you all know who you are.
HPHPHPHPHP
Harry Potter: Arrow or Auror? By Harlow Hayes, Daily Prophet independent contributor
The mystery of Harry Potter deepened further Friday night after the Arsenal Arrows' win – a win now being questioned – over the Tutshill Tornados. Potter performed during the match at a level well beyond what one might expect for a player so new to the professional leagues, executing a final, spectacular dive from over five-hundred feet in the air to catch the Snitch just inches from the ground. Until that moment, the outcome of the game was anyone's guess, with the Tutshill and Arsenal Chasers trading goals back and forth as if determined to give their audience – one of the largest seen in a non-playoff match – its Galleon's worth.
The abruptness of Potter's success in yesterday's match is second only to his abruptness last Spring, when he left his position as a rising start in the newly restructured Auror Corps almost overnight, amidst rumors of sexual misconduct and the rapid deterioration of his mental health. But what is actually true? Could there actually have been an even more nefarious reason, one tied his long years of experience fighting – or so he says – Dark Magic?
"I can't talk about the details of Potter's departure or what he was doing for the Aurors before he left. I can only say that it was top secret and vitally important." Head Auror Gawain Robards, to whom Harry Potter had been directly reporting, remains circumspect about what the young 'Chosen One' may or may not have been doing during the year after Voldemort's defeat. "Suffice it to say that without Harry or . . . others, our task to pull up evil by the roots is going to be much more difficult."
But is Harry Potter actually the right person to fight Dark Magic? Could he in fact be one of the perpetrators, and his antics on behalf of the Light all these years just a ruse? His surprising prowess on a broom is only one clue as to Potter's true nature. The display of magical power this reporter witnessed after the Tutshill match led herself and most of those assembled to conclude that, in fact, Harry Potter may not be the savior everyone thinks he is. And he may not be working alone.
Only two questions into his first true press conference since joining the Arrows, Potter's unpredictability was on display in full form. The Dark and never-before-seen curse that sent this reporter to St. Mungo's came out of nowhere, unseen and unheard. Did he perform it himself, harnessing power over wandless magic learned directly from You-Know-Who? Or was he aided by Auror trainee and longtime family friend Ginny Weasley, as suggested by an anonymous bystander, as she tried to escape the colony of murderous bats that the spell conjured?
We may not have all the answers now, but be assured, this reporter will not rest until she has uncovered every nefarious secret harbored by Harry Potter and those closest to him.
Ginny's stomach dropped when she saw her own name, shimmering on the page of the Daily Prophet as if written in luminescent ink. Next to it, her photo – the one that adorned her Auror trainee badge – looked boldly up at her. She suddenly hated the look on her face; at the time, she had been trying to convey the tough confidence befitting an Auror. Now, she just thought she looked both pompous and guilty.
Harry had been right; her impetuous cursing of the mousy-haired witch had caused much more trouble than its moment of satisfaction had given. Of course, she was a reporter, and of course, she would try to parley Ginny's moment of frustration into as many newspaper sales as she could. Ginny wondered who this Harlow Hayes was. Her article had run above Pansy Parkinson's inept reporting of the actual match, but at least it was still in the games and sports section of the paper and not closer to the front. She clearly wasn't a Quidditch reporter; Harry's dive had been from, at most, three-hundred feet in the air, and quite frankly, most matches ended with a similarly sudden race to the Snitch. Honestly, the very nature of the question the woman had asked should have alerted Ginny to keep her temper. It was too late now though.
Ginny frowned again at the article. An anonymous bystander had apparently revealed her identity; Ginny would bet anything that it had been Parvati. She and Angelina had both been at the DA meeting where Harry had asked Ginny to demonstrate the Bat-Bogey Hex – on a dummy provided by the Room of Requirement. But Angelina would undoubtedly know better than to reveal Ginny as the perpetrator. And now that she thought of it, Ginny wasn't even sure that Angelina and George had bothered to come to the press conference after the game. If she was feeling charitable, she could admit that it may have been an accident. The last Ginny remembered seeing her, Parvati was running after Dam, wand out, as he escaped the bats. She would have known how innocuous they were, and she certainly would have wanted to share that knowledge with the Arrows captain. Ginny could find out more on Monday at work.
But until then, the most important thing was to find Harry and apologize – again – for her hasty actions. He'd brought her to their building's back entrance before pulling off his invisibility cloak, and then declined her offer to come to her flat for a drink, saying that it was probably best if the two of them weren't seen together for a while. Ginny had been about to protest that her flat was hardly a place the two of them might be seen when an owl arrived, carrying a golden Arrow in its talons. Harry had taken it, and with a quick, "sorry," disappeared in a swirl of Arsenal red.
Still holding the paper, Ginny knocked firmly on Ron and Harry's door. Then she knocked again. It was nearly 9 am; certainly Harry would be awake.
But it was Ron who answered the door, looking from her to his watch with bleary annoyance.
"It's not that early, Ron," she said impatiently. She looked past him into the flat. If she'd woken him up, he wouldn't have seen the article yet, and she could talk to Harry about it without interference.
"He's not here," Ron said. He gave a big yawn. "That Hayes witch sent him 'pre-release' draft of her article in the middle of the night. He went straight to the Arrows' office for damage control. Allegations of using magic – especially Dark magic – to cheat are serious."
Ginny's guilt racheted up another notch. "But he didn't cheat, not even a little bit," she said. "He's really that good. All they have to do is talk to anyone who played with him at Hogwarts. And the Bat-Bogey Hex isn't evil, just annoying. That reporter practically made it sound like an Unforgiveable."
Ron sighed and flopped on the sofa. "I know that, and you know that, and anyone who knows Harry knows that," he said. "But the thousands of Prophet readers who've been reading its lies for years are happy to believe the worst; it's much more interesting."
"As if single-handedly killing Voldemort and saving all their arses isn't interesting enough," said Ginny hotly.
Ron shrugged. "Most of them didn't experience it personally, and only read what the Prophet wrote. They were properly scared about Voldemort, but Harry's role in his defeat was never quite as . . . public, you know? And that's all old news. Now they'd much rather think Harry used Dark Magic to enslave a helpless witch in his sex games or something. Harlow Hayes writes for Love Cauldron, usually, and that's a rag. If she's gotten the Daily Prophet to publish her stuff, that means a lot more people are going to believe her."
"And it's my fault," said Ginny flatly. She leaned back against the sofa. "Harry must hate me."
Ron gave her an odd look. "I don't think he does," he said. "You had no idea what he's been going through these past years. You didn't know better."
That rubbed Ginny almost as wrongly as her guilt at casting the hex in the first place. "And how would I?" she asked. You lot never included me in anything important."
"When we were kids, maybe," said Ron. "But that was your own choice, remember?"
Ginny stared at him. "Not really, no," she said. "I just remember you and Harry off in corners at the Burrow whispering and ignoring me."
"It wasn't on purpose. You didn't want to . . . and anyway, you were always trying to hex us! Remember the watering can?"
Ginny giggled. "Oh yeah, that was funny. But I only did it because you spent all Christmas break not telling me anything about Sirius Black. And if I remember, you and Harry got me back by growing ivy in my bed." That had been a particularly annoying holiday. Harry and Ron had alternated between ignoring her and teasing her mercilessly, often ganging up with the twins to do it. Her mum had seemed oddly pleased at their behavior, telling her that "boys will be boys" whenever Ginny complained. Getting back to school had actually been a relief that year.
"And that's all old news, Ginny. We included you in the DA, and the Department of Mysteries, and when the Death Eaters invaded Hogwarts, didn't we?"
"And then left me again to go traipsing all over England and then tried to lock me in the Room of Requirement instead of fighting at the final battle!" This was a tired argument, and both Ginny and Ron knew it. He wisely ignored her.
"We've talked about all this, Ginny," said Ron instead. "What matters is now. Why do you think I told you to watch out for people gossiping about Harry?"
"And I have," she said, with a touch of petulance. "I even shut down Robards, remember?"
"I remember," said Ron. "But you have to be on your guard all the time. Witches like Harlow Hayes are everywhere, just waiting to grab any tidbit of information they can and exploiting it."
"I'll be more aware from now on," Ginny promised. "Will you let me know when Harry gets back? I'd like to apologize again."
"I will," agreed Ron. "But I don't know when that will be. I heard Harry was going to have to talk to the Department of Magical Games and Sports and everything. Until then, I'd lay low. Stick around your flat. There are a bunch of reporters outside, wanting a word with you."
Ginny groaned. "Really? I was going to go for a run."
Ron shook his head. "I wouldn't, not today. Or tomorrow. Hopefully by Monday it will have all died down." He gave her a more sympathetic look. "And I'll send Harry over when he gets home so you can grovel at his feet and he can tell you it's all fine. 'Kay?"
Ginny rolled her eyes. "Whatever, Ron."
HPHPHPHP
No one contacted Ginny for the rest of that Saturday. She tried jogging in place and doing sit ups in her flat, but eventually got so antsy that she decided to brave the outside world. But even from the front lobby of her building, it was obvious that more than the usual number of fan-witches had set up camp. There was a rush of noise as soon as the reporters in front saw her, peering through the glass. As much as Ginny wanted to confront them, and she had to admit that the desire to yell, hex, or both was strong, she managed to hold back this time.
Her decision was reinforced when she got back up to her flat to find a Ministry owl waiting for her. The summons for Monday morning was short and to the point: Ginny was expected to appear at the Office of the Department of Magical Games and Sports to answer questions about an "incident" Friday night at the Arsenal-Tutshill Quidditch match. Members of the Aurors would be present as well. Ginny sighed. She'd been expecting to be questioned about her actions from the minute she saw her name in the Daily Prophet, although the addition of what sounded like her boss caught her a little off guard. She didn't think she'd broken any Auror rules with her actions, but now she wasn't so sure. Maybe one of the long-winded morning lectures had been about when it was and wasn't okay to hex annoying, bitchy reporters.
She'd have to ask Harry what to expect when she saw him on Sunday.
But Harry never stopped by at all that weekend, leaving Ginny to wonder if Ron had been wrong and Harry actually was angry with her. The only bright note was the message she got from the building manager, approving her to enter and exit through the private back alleyway, and so Sunday afternoon she finally was able to slip away for a run and groceries. It wasn't time for laundry again, but Ginny even took a small basket of dirty clothes down to the laundry room on the off-chance Harry would be there. He wasn't, and instead Ginny had to endure a thirty-minute story about the proper way to grow and care for magical flower boxes from the dotty old woman who lived in one of the rent-controlled flats on the second floor.
She escaped as quickly and politely as she could, and then spent half the night pacing around her flat, wondering what was going to happen in the morning. During her lucid moments, she didn't think they'd actually kick her out of the Aurors, but around 2 am she had a bad patch of worry that almost sent her flying down the hall to seek reassurance. Only the fact that Harry hadn't sought her out himself, not to mention the hell Ron would give her for waking him up, kept her at home. She finally managed to capture a couple of hours of sleep near morning, but was nowhere near top form the next day as she flashed her badge at the Ministry security guards and walked to the lifts.
"Wait up . . . wait . . . hold the door!" Ron's voice was unmistakable as it panted closer from the direction of the entrance Floos. Damn, she was later than she thought.
Ron must have thought so too because he took in the circles under her eyes and messy ponytail and raised his eyebrows at her. "Rough night?" he asked.
"You'd know," she said testily. Ron looked confused. "Know what?" The lift stopped at floor seven and Ginny got out. "Where are you going?" he asked. "We've got five more levels." He looked out of the lift at the large posters of the Irish and British national Quidditch teams and comprehension dawned on his face. "Ohhh, is this about what happened . . . ohhh." To Ginny's relief, Ron stopped talking
She nodded tersely. "I'll be up to training as soon as I can," she said. Unspoken was her worry from the night before: I hope.
Ron nodded. "I'll let you know what you miss." The lift closed and Ron gave her a last, worried look through the grates before it rose away.
Ginny was determined not to show any fear, and marched resolutely down the hallway to the closed door marked with a shiny brass nameplate. Willa Corking had taken over as the head of Magical Games and Sports after Ludo Bagman resigned in disgrace after one too many gambling debacles. She didn't know much about her, she wasn't nearly as flashy as his predecessor, and after playing for her house team at Hogwarts (Chaser for Ravenclaw), had started working in the Rules office for the department immediately after graduating, rising steadily over the past twenty years. Her father called Willa a fair woman, though, and that was all Ginny needed to know. She knocked firmly on the door and it opened inward almost immediately.
"Ahh, Ginny, good, right on time. Please, have a seat." The voice that spoke was measured and calm, and seemed like it would be much more at home in a meeting room than at a Quidditch match. Corking was slim and wiry; she still had a Chaser's build, Ginny noted. She sat down.
"Don't worry, this is a mere formality." Although she had expected him to be here, Robards' voice still gave Ginny a small jolt of surprise. She gulped and nodded at her boss and the realized that sitting next to him was the Minister of Magic himself, Kingsley Shacklebolt. Ginny's forced her breath to slow. Despite her great familiarity with Kingsley, he was still the Minister, and his appearance at a meeting over something as silly as a small hex was foreboding. Ginny sat ups straighter and wished she'd taken the time to fix her hair that morning.
"Hello, Ginevra," said Kingsley calmly.
Ginny relaxed. Kingsley Shacklebolt had taken to calling her 'Ginevra' the first time he'd met her – saying that it was much too formal of a name for a spitfire like Ginny. It had become rather a joke between them, as was the fact that the Minister of Magic was the only person Ginny allowed to use her full name without risk of being hexed – aside from her parents when they were angry, of course.
She risked a smile and saw Kingsley's eyes twinkle. "Hello, Minister," she said formally. "I didn't expect to see you here."
"Yes, well, as former head of the Aurors, I thought it was important," said Robards. "Harry's already explained most of what happened, this shouldn't take long." The man sat forward. "Although as recent . . . events have proven, there is great opportunity and benefit to be gained through the collaboration of our two departments. He gestured to himself and then to Corking.
Kingsley cleared his throat but didn't say anything.
"The Aurors and the department of magical sports?" asked Ginny. She was confused. "I thought I was here because I hexed that bitch of a reporter."
This time, she was certain she heard Kingsley chuckle. Corking nodded seriously. "Well, officially, yes, that is the reason for this meeting. But Harry has already explained to us that he and that particular . . . reporter have had interferences in the past, and that you have a bit of a temper and tend to act without thinking when a member of your family is being threatened." She waved her hand away. There is no evidence at all that Harry or anyone else used any illegal spell or other material to gain advantage during the match, and quite frankly, our departments aren't particularly concerned at the attack on, as you called her, 'that bitch of a reporter' with what really amounts to little more than a child's hex." She smiled at Ginny, obviously expecting she would be pleased at the outcome.
Ginny forced herself to smile. "So Harry told you all this, when, yesterday? Last night?"
"Friday evening," Corking said. "We convened a meeting immediately after the incident and were able to determine, with the help of the Tutshill security forces as well, that nothing untoward had occurred. One of the Tutshill players who used to play with Harry – Katie Bell, I believe – was particularly helpful.
Ginny nodded stiffly, but inside she was seething. Harry had apparently saved her arse with her boss and the entire Ministry by making her sound like a tantrum-ing child who couldn't control her wand. What's more, he'd known since Friday night that she was off the hook and yet hadn't bothered to tell her anything, leaving her to wonder and worry for two more days. She stifled a yawn. And now she had to go sit through an entire day of Auror training on almost no sleep. She shifted in her seat.
"Is that all? I should really get back to training."
Robards shook his head. "Actually, as I mentioned earlier, regardless of what we tell the public, and the press, there is no denying that you and Mr. Potter have a unique relationship." He raised his hands and Ginny opened her mouth to protest. "Now, I understand you told me several weeks ago that you weren't interested in talking to Harry, but I daresay, he may see things differently now. At least, he didn't storm out of the meeting we had Friday where your name and role in the press conference were being discussed."
"I don't think . . ." began Ginny.
"Don't worry, you don't have to think of anything right now, or make any decisions." Robards looked up as Kingsley cleared his throat again. "Indeed, the Minister of Magic and I have rather . . . divergent views on the subject."
Ginny glanced up. Kingsley's face was impassive. "It's a waste of time, Gawain," he said. "As I told you, I know that Ginny would never ask Harry to do something he didn't want to." His eyes flickered, and Ginny gave him the barest nod of understanding. Don't agree to anything.
"Yes, yes, you've made your opinion perfectly clear," said Robards. "But if Harry himself changed his mind, well then, I think we could all agree there would be no harm done, correct?"
"Harry won't change his mind," said Ginny flatly. She still didn't know exactly what Harry had refused to do, but that didn't really matter.
Robards didn't seem upset. "Well, we'll see about that. You're going to be starting a very interesting segment of training later in the week, one that was of particular interest to Harry. I suspect that between you and your brother, Harry will be quite interested to hear what it is you're learning." He stood up. "Feel free to share with him; ordinary rules of secrecy don't apply in this case.
Ginny sensed Kingsley wanted to say something else, but he merely closed his eyes for a moment. She stood up. "I'd really better get back to class." She walked to the door. If Robards or anyone else thought she was going to spend any time talking to Harry about what she was doing for the Aurors, they were crazy. After hearing what he'd said about her and her behavior, she didn't even want to be in the same room with him if she could help it. Temper indeed. I'll show him how I act without thinking when I hex his arse all the way to Ireland.
At the door, she turned back. Despite everything, these people were her superiors, and since she wasn't getting sacked, at least she could acknowledge that. "Thank you for the meeting. I'll try to . . . control my temper in the future." Robards and Corking nodded, but Kingsley chuckled. "Not on my account I hope, Miss Weasley."
Ginny gave the Minister of Magic a small smile before leaving. He'd barely spoken at all, but somehow, Ginny didn't think his presence was an accident. She sighed, trying to will herself awake and thinking to herself exactly what she was going to say to Harry the next time she saw him.
Back upstairs, Ginny hushed Ron when he tried to ask her what had happened. "Later," she muttered under her breath. "No one else needs to know." Ron, to his credit, merely nodded and tapped the parchment in front of her, copying the ten minutes of notes he'd already taken to her. The lecture was on the various colors spells and curses might take, and what each meant, going into much greater detail than had been taught at Hogwarts. Still, the topic was familiar enough that Ginny could listen with half her brain and think with the other. One thing was certain: she needed to talk to Harry, but whether to warn him, question him, or throttle him, Ginny wasn't sure.
Ginny kept expecting one of the other trainees to mention the article or ask her about what had happened, but they were all oddly silent on the matter. She mentioned it to Ron on their way home. He chuckled. "If you could seen the look you've had on your face all day, you wouldn't wonder," he said. "I think you've gotten everyone all properly scared that they might be the next one hexed.
Ginny frowned at that. "I would never . . ." she began hotly. Ron raised his hands in supplication.
"I know, I know," he said. "And I think that at least the other DA members know too. Lee thinks its properly hysterical, actually. And Angelina just wishes she'd seen it; she and George left before the press conference." His voice dropped. "I think they might be shagging."
Ginny rolled her eyes. "Of course they're shagging," she said. "And Fred and Katie too."
Ron looked at her in surprise. "Fred and Katie? Really? How do you know?"
"How do you don't know?" Ginny retorted. She sighed. "I think the only one not shagging these days is me."
"And I'll thank you for not telling me when it happens," said Ron promptly. He shrugged. "Harry isn't either. The poster of him in our flat hasn't changed."
Ginny didn't know that Harry would have wanted Ron revealing that to anyone, but she didn't bother saying so. "He really should insist on taking that down. What is a witch going to think when she sees it and knows what it means?"
Ron laughed. "I think the point is to not have her stick around long enough to find out."
"So one of the cows on the front walk, you mean." They'd arrived in the back alleyway. "I'm glad I don't have to see them every day anymore."
"There's still quite a bit of press out there too," said Ron. "I'm not sure they'll leave until they catch sight of you at least."
"They'll wait quite a while, then," she said.
HPHPHPHPHP
For the next few days, Ginny kept to her word, only taking the back entrance in and out of her flat, and confining most of her comings and goings to work. By Thursday morning, she was more than a little cranky about her self-imposed isolation. She'd been avoiding the shops closest to her flat, including the bakery with her favorite pastries and the substitutes she picked up near the Ministry were dry and tasteless. She'd run out of tea at home too, a fact she didn't realize until she was already running late, and that meant drinking the boring bagged stuff at work. So it was with an air of one quite aggrieved that she arrived in the training room that morning, clutching her paper cup of insipid tea and thankful for the small mercy that tomorrow was a bank holiday for both wizards and Muggles alike, and they all had the day off.
A few of the other trainees were huddled around a desk, muttering. Angelina looked up when Ginny walked in and pointed to something in front of her. "Have you seen this yet?" she asked.
Ginny walked over. It was that morning's Daily Prophet, which Ginny had not had time yet to read, occupied as she'd been tearing her kitchen apart looking for tea. The article was below the fold, but still on the front page, and Ginny winced to see her image again in black and white. This time, it was a shot of her walking towards the Ministry's employee entrance. She was clutching a bag and looking tense. The mysterious Ginny Weasley – friend or foe? said the headline.
"Oh for Merlin's sake, I'm in the Aurors," huffed Ginny. "I thought the Prophet was trying to become more respectable."
"For them, this is respectable," said Angelina. "Want to read it? It's not long." She held out the paper.
Ginny sighed. "Can you read it to me? Might as well let everyone know at once."
Angelina gave her a bracing smile and picked up the paper. "It's not terrible, she said.
Auror trainee Ginny Weasley, still under a cloud of suspicion regarding her role in the cursing of a reporter at the Arrows-Tutshill match, has been seemingly hiding out in recent days. While records from the Ministry confirm that Miss Weasley has been going to work regularly, several of her friends confirm they haven't seen her anywhere else, an unusual occurrence for the normally social and gregarious witch.
"They make me sound like all I do is party," grumbled Ginny.
"That's the Prophet for you," said Lee. "Don't believe a word of it."
Angelina continued.
"It's so odd, we're used to sharing a joke or laugh with Ginny outside her apartment building, but we haven't seen her at all lately" said Katerina Bellows a local influencer in the social scene. "I wonder if it has anything to do with that mess at Quidditch, you know, Ginny sticking her wand where it didn't belong." Miss Bellows would be one to know; she was most recently paired with Harry Potter, although she demurred when asked about the current status of their relationship.
Ginny groaned. "Relationship? There's no relationship there!"
"We know, Ginny," said Ron. He'd apparently just arrived. "Those fan-witches are just sorry you aren't using the front entrance anymore and they have one fewer chance to catch a glimpse inside."
Miss Weasley's appearances at home aside, the bigger question of course, is what exactly she meant to do in hexing that reporter. Because we have it on good authority that in fact, she was the perpetrator of the so-called Bat-Bogey Hex, a nasty, but not permanently damaging, curse that has apparently been taught at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Indeed, Harry Potter himself has been identified as having taught the hex to a group of students, and he was formally questioned about its use at the press conference. Although he declined to comment for this article, a trusted source confirmed that Mr. Potter told Ministry heads, including Willa Corking and Gawain Robards, that Miss Weasley's temper had gotten the best of her, but that he was sure she'd learned her lesson. But what lesson, exactly? Has Miss Weasley turned over a new leaf and is now dedicating herself anew to the Aurors? Or is she merely going to be more careful not to get caught, next time?
"What the fuck?" said Ginny, louder than intended. "Who wrote this rubbish?"
Angelina looked at the top of the article. "It just says 'Prophet staff,' she said. "Which is what they do when they know they're writing something inflammatory.
"It's not that bad, Ginny," said Parvati. She looked nervous, and Ginny's suspicion that she was the one who'd originally revealed Ginny as the caster of the hex was confirmed. "It looks like Harry fixed everything, at least at work. Who cares what the crazy people who believe the Prophet think?"
Ginny cared that the entire wizarding world apparently now thought she was a hot-headed child who needed to be saved from her own bumbling by Harry Potter, but she kept that thought to herself. At the very least, she'd learned that the more she protested, the more no one was likely to believe her.
"You're probably right, Parvati," she choked out, relieved to see their instructor enter the room. For the first time, Ginny was actually looking forward to the distraction of a dry lecture on some obscure theory of Dark Magic. Of course, that didn't happen.
"Now that you all have a thorough foundation in the principles of the Aurors, the focus of our morning lectures is going to shift a bit." Their lecturer, a tall, thin wizard, was one they'd had several times in the past, and he tended to be more interesting than most. "Organic roots of evil," he announced. "And how to identify them." He peered carefully at each member of the class.
"We've talked about the external factors that cause wizards to go dark, but what about those who develop a penchant for evil much earlier in their lives? Is it possible that certain factors in one's upbringing could even cause a child to be born with the propensity for the darkness?"
Everyone knew he was talking about Voldemort, although Ginny suspected that few knew as much about his early years as she and Ron did. Although, to be fair, Ron knew more; Harry had shared what he'd learned from Dumbledore directly with him and Hermione. Ginny had had to eavesdrop and cajole to get the knowledge she had about the orphanage where Voldemort had grown up, and what was known about his parentage. Still, she was surprised when the lecturer turned to her.
"Ginny, you had personal interactions with the young Voldemort, so to speak. Would you say that you were able to sense his darkness when he was just sixteen?"
"He tried to kill me, what do you think?" The words came out more sharply than was probably wise, but still, what did anyone think, springing a question like that? Ginny took a deep breath. She'd known this would come up eventually; there was no use trying to hide it. "I mean, yes, I could feel how evil he was, but not at first." Around her, Ginny was aware that it had gotten very quiet. "At first he was just, friendly and charming, you know? He always seemed to know exactly what to say to make me feel better."
"What were you upset about?" The question was mild, and Ginny wondered exactly how much the lecturer knew. Dumbledore had promised her parents that he'd keep most of the details private, and he had, but there had been a few stories in the press and Ginny harbored no illusions that there hadn't been gossip or spilled secrets along the way.
She sighed, and hoped Ron had the sense to keep his mouth shut. "I was mad," she admitted. "That my brother and his friends were still treating me like a little kid." She carefully ignored her brother, but she could feel his gaze on her. He'd already been teasing her on the train up to school, warning her that she'd have to wrestle a troll or risk being sorted into Slytherin. She hadn't really believed him, but the and Harry had both laughed, and her worry about possibly not being in Gryffindor ratcheted up a notch. And later, Ron had come back from the loo and heard Ginny asking Harry how he'd gotten picked for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Ginny knew that her chances of following suit were slim, but she wasn't sure what was worse, Ron's shout of laughter or the way Harry had patted her arm and told her the team was already full, as if she was too stupid to know who played for Gryffindor, when half her family had already been on the team. That very night, relieved to have been sorted into Gryffindor, Ginny had nonetheless pulled out her diary and began writing.
And Tom had written back.
It was an abbreviated story she told the class; in truth, she still had very little memory about what she'd done every time Voldemort had possessed her and she had never wanted anyone to tell her. But she tried to convey his power to everyone the best she could.
"I remember seeing him come out of the diary," she said. "And yes, at that point, I could almost feel how Dark he was. I knew he wasn't my friend, and that he'd been lying when he told me that Ron and Ha . . . his friends were ignoring me on purpose, because I was too young and stupid to keep up with them." Ginny didn't know why she bit back Harry's name; surely everyone knew who she was talking about. She shook her head. "And then, everything went dark again, and when I came to, Ron was there, and Harry, and they had a great phoenix with them. Ron had fought the Basilisk and killed it, and I think he battled with Voldemort's memory too, didn't you?" Ginny turned and looked at Ron. "You destroyed him? Before Harry broke through the collapsed tunnel and brought the phoenix to get us out of there?"
Ron looked uncomfortable, as he did on the rare occasions that the Chamber came up in conversation. "Something like that," he mumbled. "It was a long time ago."
The lecturer found his voice. "Well, you are certainly lucky you have such a brave brother," he said. "And that he had a friend willing to venture into the Chamber of Secrets with him. I believe that Gilderoy Lockhart is still in St. Mungo's isn't he? Hit on the head by falling rocks? You were all very lucky." He turned to the class. "This is what we'll be discussing next, how to identify evil as early as possible, before the . . . perpetrator becomes as powerful as Voldemort. We'll be looking at spells, objects, magical signatures, and other means to find darkness in its nascent form and extinguish it as quickly as possible.
The lecturer's words gave Ginny an odd feeling. Something Harry had said, about why he'd quit, the thought niggled at the back of her mind but she couldn't quite grasp it. Next to her, she saw that Ron's lips had gone tight. He knew.
No one else seemed particularly disturbed though, and when class ended a few minutes later, Ron seemed to have shaken off his disquiet, and began joking with Lee and Copernicus and Ernie about some joke he'd gotten from Fred and George. He didn't say anything to Ginny. She knew it would do no good to question him, especially in front of everyone else, and so she allowed herself to be swept up by Parvati, who was nearly bouncing with excitement.
"You need to come out with us tonight, Ginny. You too, Angelina. The pub is supposed to be fantastic."
Angelina made a face. "Wand-or-lust?" she asked. "Isn't that supposed to be another one of those places to get drunk and shag in the corners?"
Parvati giggled. "Much more upscale than the Troll Hole or those sorts of places. They have high-end drinks and the space was designed by WHO. And yes, if you do happen to be in the mood, there are private nooks and corners for certain . . . activities, but that's not what it's all about. Her voice got rather casual. "All the Arrows will be there, I think it will be fun."
Ginny laughed. "You mean Dam will be there," she said.
Parvati shrugged. "Actually, I find Adam Ramsey quite interesting." She looked at Ginny. "Dam seemed to only want to talk about you. When he wasn't screaming about whether he had bat droppings on him."
Ginny sighed. "He just won't give up, will he?"
"So are you two coming?" asked Parvati.
Angelina shook her head. "Count me out, George and I are going somewhere a little more . . . down to earth. But you two have fun."
Ginny sighed. It wasn't like she had any other plans anyway. "Do you think my brother and Hermione will be there?" she asked. At least that way, she'd have someone to talk to, as long as she could keep them out of one of the private corners.
Parvati nodded. "I asked them," she said. She seemed pleased that Ginny wasn't angry at her for her role in the Prophet article. "I think they're all planning to get there around eight. Should I come to you or meet you at the pub?"
"Meet at the pub," said Ginny quickly. She most definitely did not want to get caught up in a big group of Arrows and groupies all arriving together. If there was any way to get her photo back in the paper for a third time that week, that would be it.
HPHPHPHPHP
So it was by herself that Ginny finally slipped into the alley behind her building and concentrated on the destination of the pub. She felt a little silly, thinking 'wand-or-lust' over in her head, but there was nothing for it. She just hoped the place wasn't as bad as Angelina had made it sound.
In fact, the pub itself appeared much more tasteful than its name, with comfy, overstuffed chairs and sofas in muted colors and a lot of fancy wooden tables and shiny hanging lamps creating small patches of light around the space. Ginny relaxed a fraction when she caught sight of Ron and Hermione sitting with Neville Longbottom and Hannah Abbott in a booth. There was a free seat, and Ginny sat down with a grateful sigh.
"Thank the Muggles for having that bank holiday tomorrow," she said. "I really needed the long weekend."
Hermione gave her a sympathetic look. "A bit too much attention this week?"
Ginny rolled her eyes. "A bit," she said. A server appeared and suggested one of the pub's "end of week" specials to start. The drink was bright yellow and steaming slightly; the server promised things would get "darker" as the night went on. Ginny took a tentative sip and felt herself immediately begin to relax. She sunk into the cushions of her seat. "This is really good!" she said.
Ron gave her a warning look. "Just watch out, I hear the drinks here are stronger than they taste."
"I can take care of myself, Ronald," said Ginny. She took a bigger sip and looked around. "I thought . . . the others were coming," she said carefully."
Ron nodded. "It took them a little longer to get going than planned," he said. "One of the fans recognized Parvati and tried to use her to get into the building. Everyone went into hiding. Dam didn't want the entire Harry Potter fan club showing up this time."
Ginny waved the server over for a second drink. "Really? I'd think he'd want the publicity."
Ron shook his head. "Dam's a good guy, Ginny. He knows what Harry's had to put up with this week and wanted to give him a break."
Ginny mood fell a bit at the reminder of exactly why Harry had had anything to put up with. She took a larger pull out of her glass. "Well, I think we're all glad that week is over," she said. She turned to Hannah and Neville, intent on changing the subject to something completely boring, like Herbology. But before she could even open her mouth, there was a commotion near the door, and what seemed to be the entire Arrows' team – starters and reserves – and at least a dozen witches, all arrived at once. Ginny saw Parvati among the crowd, holding tightly to the arm of Adam Ramsey, who looked rather pleased.
"I guess they decided to bring some of their fans along after all," said Ginny dryly. Although many of the faces were unfamiliar, she recognized Katerina and a couple of her cronies from the Harry Potter fan club; all of them were quite dressed up, with plenty of makeup and clothing that Ginny suspected was rather expensive. Not for the first time, she wondered what these witches did for a living; sitting outside an apartment building all day certainly didn't pay anything.
The crowd parted, and Ginny saw Harry, an unfamiliar witch hanging on his arm. He was turned away, so Ginny couldn't tell if the attention was unwanted or not; he wasn't pulling away though, and when someone handed him his own yellow drink, he knocked cups with someone she couldn't see and tilted his head back to drink.
"Ahh, you're on red already, excellent!" Dam's voice was unmistakable even in the din of the pub. He knocked his hip against Ginny's shoulder. "Let's get you all the way to blue, shall we?" He bent down. "Scoot over, introduce me to your friends, Ginny."
Ginny laughed and made room. "Well, this is my brother Ron, and his girlfriend Hermione," she said with a smirk, pointing across the table.
"What? No, I know them, I was asking . . . ohhhh. Taking the mickey already, are you?" Dam grinned at the joke and leaned across Ginny, hand out. "Damacles Clarke," he said, shaking hands first with Neville and then with Hannah. "Longbottom, huh? Rather unusual name. How do you two know Ginny?"
Ginny was impressed how well Neville hid his surprise, but he'd always been quite modest. "Hogwarts," he said finally. "I was in Gryffindor with Ron and Harry."
"Ahhh, right," said Dam. "Never went myself. Learned everything I needed to at home, I did." He threw his arm around Ginny. "I haven't yet had the chance to show you what I know, have I? He nudged her drink closer. "Finish up and maybe I'll get my chance."
Ginny rolled her eyes. "Don't hold your breath," she said. She was feeling quite relaxed and happy, but completely in control.
He waggled his eyebrows. "I never say never, Weasley," he said, drawing out her name. He looked around the pub. "I think even Harry's enjoying himself. He was getting cozy in a booth with one of those fan-witches and I'm not sure I could see exactly where both of his hands were."
Ginny rolled her eyes again. "And when did you tell the press to show up, to get photos of it all?" she asked.
Dam laughed. "That's one of the things I like about this pub, in addition to its great drinks and cozy activity corners," he said. "Strict 'no press' policy. It's warded so camera won't even work inside."
Ginny was impressed despite herself, and she suddenly felt even more cheerful. She raised her glass. "To no press!" she said happily. Dam clinked with hers and then frowned. "You need another, and I need the loo." He stood up. "Meet you back here?"
"Sure," she said. She stood up too and walked to the bar.
Her drink this time was green, and the bartender gave her a knowing look. "Third one already, huh? I guess you're looking to have a good night."
Ginny laughed. "I hope so," she said. "It's been a long week." This drink was spicier, and Ginny vowed to take it more slowly now; she was definitely starting to feel the effects, although her mind was still clear.
As she turned around, drink in hand, Harry was suddenly there. He was also holding a brightly colored, smoking flagon; by its color, Ginny could tell it wasn't his first either. The witch who'd been hanging on his arm – and whom Dam had said was with Harry in a booth – was nowhere to be seen.
"Where's your friend?" she asked.
Harry shrugged. "I don't care," he said. "I think Wilder's talking to her now."
"I'm surprised the team brought so many fans with them," remarked Ginny. "Ron said Dam wanted a quieter night out."
Harry barked a laugh. "This is quiet," he said. "Maybe one fan per player, instead of a flock of them. Less chance for a brawl that way."
"So now Wilder has two?" asked Ginny with a laugh.
Harry shrugged again. "He can handle himself. He'll probably enjoy it." He looked seriously at Ginny. "No one's bothered you, right?"
"Who would bother me? I'm sitting with Ron and Hermione and Neville and Hannah."
Harry nodded. "Good," he said. "That's good."
Ginny frowned. "Why's that good? I can handle myself, you know." Irritation flared suddenly, not quite dulled by her buzz. "Not that you think so."
Harry stared at her. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Ginny rolled her eyes. "You know exactly what I mean. Telling people, like my boss no less, that I'm still to be treated like an impetuous child who can't control her emotions, but don't worry, you've got it sorted and it won't happen again." She shook her head. "I can't believe you'd say that. What's wrong with, 'yeah, Ginny recognized a danger and she reacted. You know, like Aurors are supposed to?" She glared at him and took a big sip of her drink, hoping that he couldn't notice she was swaying slightly.
"Honestly, Ginny, for someone who's as smart as I know you are, and who seems to see through the Ministry better than most, I'd think you'd understand." Harry ran his hand through his hair in frustration.
"What's that supposed to mean, now you're calling me dumb?" Ginny knew that was the opposite of what Harry was saying, but the alcohol had lowered her inhibitions just enough that she didn't really care.
Harry's voice took on the overly patient tone Ginny hated. "What it means, is that telling Robards and Corking you let your childhood temper get the best of you, and you were just protecting your brother's best mate, was the best way to get them off your back. No questions asked." Harry grabbed her arm. "You don't need anyone thinking you know any dark magic, Ginny. Especially not after . . ." he trailed off.
She shook off his hand. "After what, the Chamber? I already told everyone about that." Harry didn't look surprised and Ginny huffed. "But I'm sure you know that already, that Ron told you." Harry didn't say anything, and she huffed again. "You could have come to me, you know. You could have asked me what I told everyone or why I hexed that reporter. You didn't have to speak for me." Ginny felt herself getting worked up. She expected Harry to respond, but he just stood there, arms crossed, watching her. She continued her rant. "Or am I going to read about it in the paper tomorrow? Maybe a story about how unstable I am? First, I can't control my temper, and then I tell all kinds of tales about what it felt like to be possessed, not that I even remember." Her voice turned bitter. "Why do you always have to treat me like I'm a dumb kid, Harry? I'm not, you know." He opened his mouth then, but Ginny plowed on. "I know what I'm doing, and I don't care what the Ministry thinks. I'm going to be an Auror, no matter what." Her voice had risen and a few people looked in their direction. She gulped more of her drink, trying to calm down.
"Of course you're going to be an Auror, Ginny. That's not what this is about. But you need to watch out for . . ."
"IT'S TWO OF MY FAVORITE NEIGHBORS!" Depending on how Ginny looked at it, Dam had picked either the best or the worst time to interrupt. She wanted to know what Harry had been about to say, but at the same time, she just didn't want to deal with something so deep right now. She was at a bar, supposed to be having fun after a tough week. What was Harry thinking, accosting her like that, now? He knew what she'd been dealing with, and he could have come by any time this week. But he hadn't. He'd waited until they were both half drunk to talk to her, and that was just stupid.
"Stupid," she said out loud. She looked down at her empty glass. "I need another."
"What's stupid?" asked Dam. "Not me, I hope." He elbowed Harry. "Is she calling me stupid?"
Harry gave his captain a tight smile. "I don't think so."
"People who try to have serious conversations when other people are drunk are stupid," explained Ginny. "When there are things to talk about, they shouldn't wait until you're in a pub. You go to a pub to have fun, and I wanted to have fun. You don't start talking about important things instead. Especially when they could come by your flat." She shook her head. "Stupid."
Dam grabbed her hand. "I think you're ready for the famous Wand-or-lust Magic Blue Potion," he said. He held up his empty glass. "And I'm ready for my second. Mind if I borrow Ginny?"
Ginny had a sudden thought that Harry probably did mind, but he shook his head. "No, go on," he said. "I need the loo anyway." He touched Ginny's arm. "Let me know if . . ." he stopped and shook his head. "You're right, you can take care of yourself," he said. "I'll, umm, be sitting with Ron, okay?" He smiled. "Have fun, I know that's what you want."
Ginny nodded. "I do. I do want to have fun," she said. She leaned against Dam. "So, where's that blue drink you promised?"