Okay, since I invited shipping talk by starting the "shipping" poll, let's get it over with and address the elephant in the room: the recently-revealed quotes about J. K. Rowling's regret that she put Ron and Hermione together. As you might have found out now, those quotes were taken out of context and drummed up, probably for the sake of sensationalism, and in fact Rowling never said Hermione should have got together with Harry. In either case, I'm just going to say that it's not going to affect this story any.
Nor, for that matter, is the poll very likely to. Harry/Ronnie is by far the most popular ship, which really isn't a big surprise since people often seem to expect the main male and female character of a story to end up romantically - but you shouldn't take it for granted that they will. (You can, however, take it for granted that Harry is never going to sing "I Wanna Know What Love Is" for any reason. I hope I haven't totally crushed your dreams with this revelation.) In fact, quite a number of the options on that poll are ships I know won't happen, because... well, let's just say that a few things are going to happen in this story that'll make those pairings very difficult.
A final warning before we start this chapter: There's a bit more swearing in this chapter, largely because Ronnie gets silly.
WEASLEY GIRL: SECRETS OF THE PAST
Based on the Harry Potter books by J. K. Rowling
CHAPTER FOUR
Books
After Harry and Ronnie had been cleaned up a bit (Harry needing it more than Ronnie), and Dad had fixed Harry's broken glasses with a tap of his wand, they all set off for Gringotts.
The white marble building was just as impressive as always. Ronnie had always wanted to explore it properly, but the goblins weren't very accepting of wizards even at the best of times and Bill's rather colourful descriptions of what they might do to "snooping little girls" had pretty much halted any plans to try and sneak off to get any better looks.
She knew, of course, that the goblins weren't likely to attack customers who weren't doing anything wrong, because that would be bad for business, and goblins were nothing if not keen businesspeople. But she still couldn't help feeling just slightly uneasy as they had to pass the goblin guard in the scarlet-and-gold uniform to go through the impressive bronze-and-silver doors and into the great marble hall.
She forgot the goblins almost immediately, though, because there by the counter that ran all along the great marble hall, in between a number of other wizards and witches, was Hermione. She was wearing a Muggle-style jumper and a pair of trousers (which looked a little odd to Ronnie, who was used to seeing her in the Hogwarts school robes) and was standing together with a man and a woman who had to be her parents.
Hermione beamed when she saw them. "Harry! Ronnie! Over here!" she called, waving them over. "It's so good to see you again! Mum, Dad," she added to her parents, "this is Ronnie and her family — and that's Harry! Oh, Ronnie, I didn't know you had a cat!" she added as she saw Crookshanks.
Ronnie had hoped the first Hermione/Crookshanks meeting would go well; after all, she was going to share a dorm room with Hermione for several months at a time, and if cat and girl didn't get along, this might be a more eventful year that she'd liked — but she needn't have worried. One look at the large cat was enough for Hermione to fall just as hard for him as Ronnie had. "Oh, he's gorgeous!" she cooed, immediately beginning to stroke him. Crookshanks half-closed his eyes at her, which is the cat version of a smile, and shifted so that the two girls could properly hug each other hello.
Harry smiled a little awkwardly, but Hermione didn't try to hug him — apparently she felt there were limits to how close she should get to a boy when her parents were watching. Instead, she just smiled at him and said: "I'm so happy you get to stay with the Weasleys now! I got so worried when you never answered my letters!"
"Well, I'm fine now," said Harry, and immediately changed the subject: "Too bad Neville isn't here too, it'd be a Potter's Gang reunion."
"Apparently his Gran still won't let him out of the house because of that cold he had," said Hermione. "I don't think those Muggle remedies I mailed him about did much good."
"He did say in the letter he sent to Ronnie's that he had something to tell me," said Harry, "but since his previous letters had all got lost, he preferred to say it in person."
"Curious, are you?" said Ronnie.
"Well, of course! Aren't you?"
"Never mind," said Hermione. "I'm sure we'll see him on the Hogwarts express in a couple of weeks, and then we'll have several hours to talk."
In the meantime, Dad approached Hermione's parents his most brilliant smile, and held out his hand to shake. "Arthur Weasley!" he introduced himself, and then gushed: "Such a pleasure to meet you! I never get a chance to meet any Muggles — well, not ones I'm allowed to chat much with anyway. Sometimes you just want to hang the entire Statute of Secrecy! What's that you've got there? Oh, you're exchanging Muggle money! Molly, look!"
Hermione's parents seemed a little overwhelmed, but there was a sense of relief as well as they both shook his hand and tried to smile.
"Nice to meet you too — all of you," said Mrs. Granger. "I'm so glad Hermione has made friends. She's always been so shy, the poor dear, never really managed to connect with children her own age..."
"Mum...!" Hermione said in a pained voice.
"Shy?" Ronnie blurted out. "This is Hermione we're talking about, isn't it? I thought she didn't even know the meaning of the word 'shy'! Not that she doesn't know the meaning of every other word in the English language..."
"Ronnie!" Hermione hissed.
Harry laughed. So, surprisingly, did Mr. Granger. "I was just thinking how much Hermione had changed since she found out she was a witch," he said, "but it seems that some things stay the same."
"Dad!" said Hermione.
"Are you going to keep yelling out everyone's names like that, Hermione?" said Fred. "And are you going to do George and me separately, or both at the same time?"
"Fred!" Mum snapped - and then had to laugh along with everyone else.
"We must have a drink," said Dad eagerly to the Grangers. "I've so been looking forward to this meeting! If you could wait here until we've made our withdrawals —?"
In the end, Ronnie offered to stay behind with Hermione and her parents while everyone else went down to the vaults, partly because it would be nice to spend some more time with Hermione and partly because if Ginny was down in the vaults with Scabbers, Crookshanks wouldn't try attacking the rat for that long.
And so, they watched as Harry and the rest of the Weasleys followed one of the goblins through the door leading to the rollercoaster ride that led down to the vaults.
Once Ginny (and Scabbers) was out of sight, Ronnie decided to let Crookshanks down for a bit - though she kept an eye on him to see whether he decided to sneak off. However, he didn't. He just stretched rather nonchalantly before sitting down next to her and starting to lick his paws.
"Dad's really enthusiastic about Muggles," said Ronnie, turning to Mr. and Mrs. Granger again. "When you go for that drink, he's gonna be asking you all sorts of questions. Y'know, just so you're prepared."
"Thank you," said Mrs. Granger. "Hermione told us as much too. Really, it's just a relief to notice that —"
Whatever it was a relief to notice, Ronnie never found out, because at that point a sharp "Hey! Muggles!" sounded from further inside, and the source turned out to be a very angry-looking wizard with long brown hair. He ignored Ronnie and Hermione completely, instead focusing on Mr. and Mrs. Granger.
"Can we help you?" said Mr. Granger politely, but the wizard was in no mood for politeness.
"What were you doing talking to Harry Potter?!" he hissed. "I didn't want to cause a scene while the boy was here, because he's had enough horrible things happen to him thanks to your kind, but —"
"Our kind?" Hermione's parents looked absolutely flabbergasted.
"Muggles," the wizard repeated. "Don't think that wizards don't pay attention to the world around them! Harry Potter was abused by Muggles! Harry Potter! Do you have any idea who that boy is? What he means? He's worth a million of you stinking Muggles!"
"My parents haven't done anything!" said Hermione, who suddenly had her wand in her hand and looked murderous. "You have no right to talk about them like this!"
Now the wizard turned to look at her, but when he saw the wand in her hand his expression changed; all of a sudden he had a sad smile on his face, his eyes filled with pity. "Muggle-born," he said. "Of course, I don't blame you, dear child. We can none of us help our parentage, and you're young. You don't understand."
"Hey, sod off, you wanker!" said Ronnie, taking a step towards him. "Who d'you think you are anyway?!"
He looked at her now, and his expression turned into one of vague annoyance - the hostility he'd displayed towards Mr. and Mrs. Granger remained absent, but it was clear he didn't have too much sympathy or pity to spare for young witches who called him a wanker and told him to sod off. "That's really none of your business, is it," he said.
"It's my business if you start threatening my friend's parents!"
"Your friend's parents are Muggles. Haven't you heard what they've done to Harry Potter? And they dare show their faces in his company!"
"Do you have dragon dung for brains or something?" Ronnie raged. "These Muggles haven't done anything to Harry Potter! They've never even met him before just now!"
"How do you know?!" The wanker didn't wait for an answer; he just turned back to Mr. and Mrs- Granger, hostility fully back. "If you had an ounce of shame, you would grovel at the boy's feet and beg for his forgiveness! I'm warning you, there are lots of us who think that wizards have been much too soft on Muggles! It's going to be different in the future, mark my words!" With that, he turned and walked out of the bank, right past the goblin guards who had noticed the commotion but not bothered to do anything about it. (Of course they hadn't; the wanker hadn't given any inclination that he was here to steal, or that he'd get violent, so why should they care if one human was talking unpleasantly to another?)
Ronnie's heart was pounding furiously in her chest, and she knew without having to look in a mirror that she'd turned that embarrassing pink colour again. Several of the other patrons of the bank were looking at the Grangers. Some of them were looking apologetic, others were nodding in agreement with what the wanker had said, but none of them made a move to come over.
Nobody else was going to say anything, so she did. "What a complete and utter bastard."
Hermione looked furious and her parents uncomfortable, but Crookshanks, who had been sitting on the floor and glaring at the wanker, suddenly raised himself and began stroking himself against Mrs. Granger's legs, purring and apparently trying to comfort her, before giving Mr. Granger's legs the same treatment.
"We're very used to people hating us for what we are," said Mr. Granger dryly, leaning down to stroke Crookshanks. "We're dentists, after all."
"That's not funny!" Hermione and Mrs. Granger both said in a reproachful tone.
An awkward silence fell between them all. There was so much Ronnie wanted to say to the Grangers. She wanted to apologise for that wanker, to tell them that that sort of attitude towards Muggles wasn't common and they shouldn't pay attention to it. But she had no idea how to say any of these things, especially not to a pair of adults, without it just getting embarrassing.
Finally, Mr. Granger said, with an air of forced cheerfulness: "Interesting banking system you have. I still don't understand the currency, though." He held up one of the Galleons that they had exchanged for their Muggle money. "Using actual gold to pay your way seems awfully inconvenient — is this even real gold?"
"Er — shouldn't it be?" said Ronnie, a little nonplussed.
"It certainly looks like it, but given that the exchange rate is only about five pounds to the Galleon, I was wondering. Even ignoring that gold seems a lot more plentiful in the wizarding world, how can anyone carry around any amount of money with these? I'd imagine it gets very heavy very fast."
"Oh, you just place a Feather-light Charm on your money pouch or your pocket," said Ronnie, eager to talk about something other than wankers. "It's dead easy, even first-years can do it... what's the matter?" she added when she noticed that Mrs. Granger was looking at her a little strangely.
"Oh, nothing, sorry," said Mrs. Granger. "I was just marveling at how much your people seem to take magic for granted. I had never even heard of a Feather-light Charm before now."
"There are a lot of things that Muggles take for granted that wizards don't know about too," said Hermione. "Television! Computers! Even telephones, Mum! Could you imagine a life without telephones? By the way, Ronnie, I'm still planning on introducing you to television one of these days!"
"Introducing?" said Ronnie, trying to keep up. "I thought television was supposed to be a thing, not a person. Am I supposed to say how d'you do to it?"
Mr. Granger laughed, and Hermione rolled her eyes. Ronnie suspected she'd said something stupid. Then again, that was a lot better than just being awkward about Muggle hatred, and so she continued: "Mind you, I know I did take, you know, potions for granted before, and look at how things are now, poor Neville is stuck at home because Pepper-up Potion doesn't work on him anymore, and as for me, what wouldn't I have given for a Dreamless Sleep potion to work on me when I -" She stopped herself mid-ramble. No. Don't go there.
"Maybe we can talk about this another time!" said Hermione, giving an oddly nervous look to her parents.
Ronnie might have questioned this (surely Hermione must have told her parents about the potion immunity by now?), but certain memories were suddenly flooding her brain, and she was suddenly quite busy telling herself: Don't talk about the Imperius, don't think about the Imperius.
"Are you all right?" Hermione looked at her with concern. So, to Ronnie's surprise, did her parents.
"Er, yes," she said, swallowing.
"Are you sure? You've gone pink again."
"Bloody hell," Ronnie swore. "I'm fine! Who're you gonna trust, me or the colour of my face?"
"Hmm." Hermione looked dubious, but didn't press the issue.
All in all, it was a bit of a relief when the others returned from the vaults. Harry looked vaguely uncomfortable for some reason (Ginny later confessed that he'd got a really guilty look on his face when seeing the sadly-empty Weasley vault and compared it to his own overflowing one), but the rest of them seemed in good spirits. Ronnie decided not to mention any encounters with Muggle-hating wizards, and apparently, Hermione and her parents felt the same way; at least none of them said anything as they joined the group in walking out of the bank and out onto the marble steps.
Well outside, after agreeing to meet at Flourish & Blotts in one hour to get school books, and after Mum had forbidden everyone to set foot in Knockturn Alley again, they all separated once more - Mum to take Ginny off for the few first-year supplies that she couldn't inherit from her older siblings, Dad to take Hermione's parents for a drink at the Leaky Cauldron, and Fred, George and Percy scattering in separate directions, leaving Ronnie alone with Harry, Hermione and Crookshanks.
Hermione looked at her parents as they followed Dad off. "I'm not altogether sure that the total separation of wizards and Muggles is such a good idea when it comes down to it," she said. "Look at how all those wizards are condemning all Muggles because they learn of Harry's relatives, maybe if they actually knew more about Muggles they'd show a little less prejudice —"
"You wanna make Muggle Studies mandatory at Hogwarts?" said Ronnie.
"It would be a start," said Hermione, "instead of making it just a third-year elective. I've already decided that I'm going to sign up for it in third year."
"But you're Muggle-born," Harry pointed out. "You don't need Muggle Studies."
"Maybe not," said Hermione with a characteristic lack of modesty, "but imagine how fascinating it'll be to study them from a wizarding point of view!"
Ronnie paused. Yes, that certainly seemed like a valid reason — if you happened to be Hermione and obsessed with — but something told her that Hermione wasn't being entirely honest here. "Come on," she goaded, "what's the real reason?"
"That is the real reason!"
"The hell it is."
"It is!"
"Er — girls," said Harry, who seemed to be worried they'd start an argument. "How about we go for an ice cream? My treat!"
And so, with Crookshanks proudly following, they went off to Florean Fortescue's ice cream parlour, where Harry bought them all giant strawberry-and-peanut-butter ice creams. Ronnie, who was still a little overwhelmed that he'd bought her a cat, tried to insist on paying for her own, but Harry wouldn't hear of it.
They spent a pleasant enough hour going around with their ice creams (Ronnie offered Crookshanks a lick of hers, but he didn't seem to like the strawberry flavour), as Hermione stocked up on quills and ink, and Ronnie spent some time looking at the window displays of Quality Quidditch Supplies, and got into a lively discussion with Harry about what kind of broomstick they'd want if and when they got on the Gryffindor Quidditch team.
They met Fred and George together with their friend Lee Jordan in Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop, where they were stocking up on wet-start fireworks, and spotted Percy in a small shop filled with second-hand junk, where he was checking out a small (and probably boring) book.
And soon enough, it was time for everyone to gather at Flourish & Blotts. To their surprise, a big crowd had already gathered there and were shoving at one another to get inside. The reason for this could be read on a large banner stretched across the upper windows:
GILDEROY LOCKHART
will be signing copies of his autobiography
MAGICAL ME
today
12:30 PM - 4:30 PM
"Isn't he the one who's written all the books for Defence this year?" said Harry.
"We can actually meet him!" Hermione squealed. "Oh, all those books he's written — all the things he must know!"
Most of the crowd, it seemed, was made up of witches around Mum's age (and a very stressed-looking wizard Ronnie vaguely recognized as one of the workers at Flourish & Blotts was trying to organize them without much luck), and after one woman had accidentally stepped on Crookshanks's tail, Ronnie decided to pick him up and carry him.
Without much fuss, the cat climbed up on her shoulders to drape around her neck like a gigantic ginger fur stola, and there he stayed. He was a little heavy, and it got awfully warm, but at least now Ronnie had her hands free and didn't have to worry about anyone treading on him.
After a rather tiring few minutes of navigating the excited crowd they managed to find the rest of the Weasleys, together with Hermione's parents, inside the shop and in the middle of the longest line.
"Oh, there you are," said Mum, sounding breathless and patting her hair.
"Nice scarf, Ron," said George, nodding at Crookshanks. "Starting a new fashion?"
"Oh yes," said Ronnie, trying to sound posh. "It's the latest thing, you know, living scarves..."
For once, George didn't try to answer her joke with an even better one; he just grinned at her.
"We've already picked out your books," said Mum, "so we're going to have them signed... we'll be able to see him in a minute."
"Mum fancies Lockhart!" Fred sang under his breath.
"Don't be silly, Fred. Look, there he is!"
Everyone looked — and there, at the end of the crowd, he was. he man of the hour, seated at a table and surrounded by pictures of himself. Of course Ronnie already knew what the man looked like. It was difficult not to know, with how his pictures were everywhere around the shop, smiling with brilliant white teeth and winking cheekily at any girl who happened to catch their eye. But there he was, in real life, right at the end of the line, dressed in perfectly-fitting blue robe and a pointy hat that had probably taken ages of tweaking and adjusting in order to look so perfectly casually-thrown-on.
Ronnie thought he looked rather silly, really, but Hermione was watching him with rapt attention and looked about as starstruck as Ginny had the first time she'd met Harry.
"Oh no," Ronnie groaned. "Not you too!"
"Not me too?" Hermione blinked and gave her a half-confused, half-annoyed look. "What are you talking about?"
"Never mind — hey, watch where you're going, will you?!" Ronnie snapped at the grouchy-looking photographer who had almost stepped on her foot.
"Out of the way," he snarled. "This is for the Daily Prophet -"
"Daily Prophet!" The voice came from Ginny, who was now joining Ronnie and looking murderous. "Do you have any idea what you've done to Dad?! Or to poor Harry?!"
"What? I have no idea what you're talking about! If you have a complaint, send an owl like everyone else!" The photographer tried to move closer to Lockhart, but Ginny was blocking his path.
"All the nasty letters we've got — I ought to kick you right in the —"
In a flash, Harry was over by Ginny and placing a hand on her shoulder. "Ginny, please don't," he said. "He's not worth it! If you cause a scene here, they'll only write more nasty things!"
"But he's so... so..." Ginny fumed — and then stopped, her expression going from angry to shocked as it apparently reached her brain that Harry was touching her. "Squeak!"
"What's going on back there?!" called a voice that Ronnie thought belonged to the wizard who was trying to control the crowd. "If you ladies can't control yourselves, I'm going to —"
"Bless my soul, if it isn't Harry Potter!" Gilderoy Lockhart had leaped to his feet and was hurrying towards them, the awestruck crowd parting around him. "My dear boy, I have so been looking forward to meeting you!" Without waiting for a reply, he grabbed a very surprised Harry and dragged him up to the front of the crowd. Harry was so surprised that he apparently forgot to let go of Ginny, who ended up being dragged along.
The photographer hurried after them, and Lockhart made a big show out of shaking Harry's hand for the camera, and over the applause of the crowd Ronnie could just make out the man's words: "Such a pleasure — heard about your unfortunate situation, of course, so glad you're among wizards again — turn a little more to the left so the camera catches my good side — and who is this charming young lady?"
"Squeak," said Ginny, with a frozen and wide-eyed expression not unlike that of a Mooncalf caught in the sun, as Lockhart patted her on the head in what he probably thought was a friendly way.
Ronnie tried to get past the crowd to come to her sister's rescue, with Crookshanks's tail lashing irritably against her shoulder, but the number of fans blocking the way was too great, and she was suddenly and unexpectedly held back by Hermione, who hissed: "He's not going to hurt them! He's Gilderoy Lockhart! Don't make a scene!"
"You should listen to the Mudblood, Weasley," came an all-too-familiar sneering voice from behind them. "Even an abomination to wizardry like her has more sense than you."
"Sod off, Malfoy!" Ronnie snapped without even turning to look.
Not bothered by the crowd. Draco Malfoy stepped into view with a smug look. "I've got as much right to be in this shop as you do, Weasley. Besides, it's much too fun to watch Potter."
Oblivious to all this, Gilderoy Lockhart placed an arm around Harry and one around Ginny, and turned to the crowd to announce: "Ladies and gentlemen! What an extraordinary moment this is! The perfect moment, in fact, for me, to make a little announcement!"
Harry looked like he would rather be anywhere else than there right now. Ginny was coming out of her stupor and blinking at the camera; even Scabbers was peeking out of her coat pocket to see what was going on.
"When young Harry here, and his lady friend —" (Ginny's face was extremely red at this point) "— stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, they only wanted my autobiography, and I shall of course be happy to present them each with a copy, free of charge!" The crowd applauded and cheered. "What they didn't know," Lockhart continued, "was that in a few weeks' time they will be getting much, much more than my book Magical Me! They, and their schoolmates will in fact be getting the real magical me! Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have great pleasure and pride in announcing that this September, I will be taking up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"
The crowd went wild. Clapping and cheering and hooting, with the photographer taking so many pictures that he would have enough to fill an entire album soon. Harry and Ginny were both presented with the entire works of Gilderoy Lockhart, which consisted of a great many books, and pretty much stumbled back towards Ronnie and Hermione weighed-down by the books, as Lockhart went back to his chair and most of the crowd returned their attention to him.
A number of people, however remained focused on Harry and Ginny, and particularly Harry.
"Couldn't resist, could you, Potter?" said Malfoy. "Always have to be the center of attention. Of course," he added with a mock expression of pity, "I understand that, being raised by Muggles, you know nothing of dignity, much less of behaving like an actual, civilized person. I did tell the readers of the Daily Prophet not to judge you too harshly."
"Shut it, Malfoy!" said Harry hotly, more or less dropping the books into Ronnie's available arms. "Here, you take them, I'll buy my own."
"Oh, really, what is it with you and those darling Weasleys of yours, Potter?" said Malfoy, the very picture of smug superiority. "Such limited vocabularies. It's 'shut up, Malfoy' this and 'sod off, Malfoy' that. Don't you ever have anything original to say?"
"How about 'I suspect you of cheating on your Potions exam, Malfoy, and am considering writing to the Headmaster about it'?" said Hermione sweetly.
Malfoy went paler than usual. "Shut up, Granger," he hissed.
"Draco, please, don't mingle with the riff-raff." It was of course Lucius Malfoy, who had approached them all, and nonchalantly picked up one of the books Ginny was holding, almost toppling the rest of the pile so that she had to struggle to keep her balance. "Dear me, a signed first edition Lockhart book... this must be worth more than your father makes in a year. I see being in the famous 'Potter's Gang' pays off."
"Not as much as selling Dark artifacts and illegal poisons," Ronnie snapped.
Mr. Malfoy took a sharp breath and raised his hand as if to strike her, causing Ronnie to flinch and bump into Ginny, who lost her balance and fell on her arse as books hit the floor around her. But before Ronnie could even apologise to her sister, Mr. Malfoy let his hand fall without striking the blow, just glaring at her instead.
"I'll tell you this only once, little girl," he said in a voice soaked in cold fury. "You will pay for that big mouth of yours. Not from me, and not today, but you will regret your lack of -"
"Scabbers!" Ginny sudenly cried.
Ronnie turned around just in time to see the rat, having fallen out of Ginny's coat pocket, making a dash for freedom. Something must really have spooked him, because he was running faster than he had ever done before, easily evading Ginny's attempts at catching him. An elderly witch shrieked as he ran between her legs, and the nearest crowd members were moving aside to avoid stepping on him, and then he was out of sight.
Just then, Crookshanks jumped off Ronnie's shoulders and set off after him ("Crookshanks, no!"), causing an even bigger commotion in the crowd.
The Weasley sisters exchanged horrified glances and, Ronnie shoving the Lockhart books over to Hermione with such speed that several of them joined Ginny's copies on the floor, they both tried to get in between the crowd to find their pets, to encouragement from several crowd members who had seen what happened and loud protests from several who hadn't.
"He went that way!"
"Young lady, don't push!"
"Has anyone seen a rat?"
"What's all the fuss about? I just want Lockhart to sign my book!"
"Kitty, kitty!"
"Er — ratty, ratty!"
"Children today! I blame the parents!"
After who-knows-how-many-minutes of this, a surprised crowd parted as a huge figure appeared, and for the second time that day Hagrid was coming to the rescue. Just like always whenever he was indoors, he looked much too big for everything — but he had somehow managed to catch Crookshanks, and now he was holding the grumpy-looking cat in one enormous hand, keeping his face turned away.
"Take 'im, take 'im!" he said.
Ronnie (though she was tall for her age) had to stretch in order to reach her pet. "Thank you, Hagrid!" she said breathlessly, burying her face in Crookshanks's soft fur.
"S'all righ'," said Hagrid. "Managed ter sweep 'im up, so — so —" He interrupted himself with a gigantic sneeze, and pulled a handkerchief the size of a bedsheet out of his pocket to wipe his nose. "Sorry abou' that," he murmured. "Told yeh cats make me sneeze."
"Did you see Scabbers?" Ginny had come up to them, looking about ready to cry.
"Sorry, no," said Hagrid. "Findin' a rat in this crowd...!"
The other Weasleys and Grangers had gathered now, by Harry and Hermione, but the Malfoys had vanished (maybe Mr. Malfoy wasn't very keen on another meeting with Hagrid). The books that had been dropped had been picked up again, and the commotion was dying down around the crowd, most of whom seemed to take the view that now that one of the missing pets were found, the crisis was mostly over. Even Lockhart had gone back to signing books and looked quite unconcerned with the disturbance.
"I'm sorry, Ginny," said Dad. "He could be anywhere by now. I'll talk to the shopkeepers and ask them to keep an eye out for him."
"Mum," Ginny pleaded. "Can't you Summon him?"
"Ginny, sweetie, you know the Summoning charm hardly ever works on living creatures," said Mum sadly. But she did pull her wand out and flicked it with an "Accio Scabbers!"
Nothing happened. Ginny burst into tears.
There wasn't much to be done. Mr. Granger wondered if they could try "scrying" for the rat, but as nobody knew what that was, and his explanation about some dungeon-centered game he'd played while in university didn't make much sense, that plan immediately died. Crookshanks would probably have been able to locate Scabbers like he had Harry, but sending a cat out to find a rat didn't seem like a very good idea, especially when said cat has already tried chasing after the rat.
Nevertheless, everyone spent hours trying to find Scabbers. They searched the shop, they talked to the staff, and to several members of the crowd, but to no avail. Though many had seen Scabbers running past, nobody could say where he'd got to in the end.
All in all, it wasn't a happy crew that eventually parted ways (though with hugs and fond "see you on the Hogwarts Express" from Hermione); Hagrid to return to Hogwarts, the Grangers to go back to their Muggle home, and Harry and the Weasleys back to the Burrow.
For the rest of the day, while Crookshanks was eagerly exploring his new home, Ginny was lying on her bed and crying over her lost pet. "Why did I take him along?" she sobbed. "I should have left him at home! He's probably dead already!"
Ronnie felt guilty. She was grateful when Fred and George offered to take Harry out broomstick flying "to show him a few moves" so that she could be alone with Ginny for a bit.
"You know," she said, sitting down on the edge of Ginny's bed, "it's my fault too. If I hadn't brought Crookshanks...! I didn't even think about Scabbers!"
Ginny just sobbed.
"But, you know," she repeated, in the hope that her new thought might cheer Ginny a little. "Scabbers was a wild rat when Percy found him. He's fended for himself before. Besides, he's smart. I bet he'll manage just fine."
Ginny lifted her tear-streaked face. "You don't even believe that yourself," she said accusingly.
Ronnie felt herself turning pink. Ginny was right, of course; deep down, she severely doubted that Scabbers would last as much as five minutes on his own. He'd probably been a tough rat once (the missing toe at least hinted that he'd been in a few fights), but now he was old, much older than any other rat she'd heard of, incredibly lazy, and no doubt softened by a long life as a pampered pet. "It could happen," she said feebly.
"Besides, what do you care?" said Ginny. "You never liked him! You love all animals except him!"
"I liked him! ...well, okay, but you liked him."
"Ron, if you love me at all, stop trying to make me feel better!" Ginny rolled over on her side to face the wall and not looking at Ronnie - her classic 'I'm-going-to-ignore-you-now' signal. Usually Ronnie hated this, but today she couldn't really blame Ginny for not feeling social.
Sighing slightly, she raised herself. "All right," she said. "I'm gonna go look through the school books then. Hermione'll kill me if I don't at least look at them before school starts. Maybe I'll ask Harry if he wants to go through them together with me when he, Fred and George come back?" When Ginny didn't react to this, she continued: "Want to join us if I do? I'm sure Harry can tell you a lot about what the first year of Hogwarts is like..."
Ginny rolled around again and pulled the bedcovers over her head.
Ronnie gave up. It had been a long shot anyway. She went over to the desk where her and Ginny's books were gathered in a pile, still all mixed up from the tumble at the book shop, and picked up the first book she could grab. It turned out to be Year With The Yeti, one of the many books that Lockhart had given to Harry and signed.
She was about to take it out of the room when she noticed that something was wedged in between its pages, like an unusually large and thick bookmark. Upon opening the book, she found that the "bookmark" was in fact another book; a small, thin, black and very old-looking book. It looked like a notebook, or — no, it was a diary.
Carefully, she removed it from the pages of Gilderoy Lockhart and held it up to get a better look. On the front cover she could just barely make out the number 1943, and the back cover proudly if somewhat fadedly displayed the almost unreadable name of a variety store on Vauxhall Road, London. Ronnie had no idea where Vauxhall Road was, but vas fairly certain that it was in the Muggle part of London.
Ronnie had heard a lot of nice little stories about unpleasant things that happened to people who read unknown books — books that made you talk only in limericks, books that burned your eyes out, books you could never stop reading. But this was a Muggle book; it couldn't be too dangerous, could it?
To her relief and disappointment, the pages were completely blank. Only on the first page was something written, in faded letters: T. M. RIDDLE. Which was either the name of the original owner, or possibly a hint that said original owner had intended on writing a riddle on that first page but never got around to it.
Was this some sort of campaign stunt by Gilderoy Lockhart to sell more books? Buy all my books, get a really old Muggle diary for free? Or maybe it had got mixed up without anyone noticing — maybe Percy had bought it; he'd been looking at an old book in that second-hand shop, hadn't he? It could have been this one.
"Hey, Ginny!" Ronnie held up the book. "Have you seen this before? It's a Muggle diary."
Ginny still refused to come out from underneath her covers.
"Must be Percy's then," said Ronnie. Now she regretted not having gone out with Harry, Fred and George, but at least now she had an excuse to leave. "I'll just go and give it back to him, okay?"
When Ginny didn't answer, Ronnie went off to Percy's room, where he'd shut himself up, as usual — he'd barely been out of his room all Summer, and refused to say what he was doing in there.
Ronnie knocked on the door. "Percy! I've got your diary!"
"You've got my what?" came Percy's voice from the other side of the door.
"Didn't you buy a diary in that junk shop at Diagon Alley?"
"Of course I didn't! What a question." Percy's voice sounded annoyed. "I only bought one book in that shop, and that's a study of Hogwarts prefects and their later careers."
That did sound like something Percy would find interesting, Ronnie had to admit, as she looked at the diary. Nothing about prefects there. "Where did this diary come from, then?"
"How should I know? If you're going to talk nonsense, could you please find someone else to do it with? I'm busy!"
"You're always busy lately! What are you —" Ronnie stopped herself. No point in asking that again. Instead, she said: "If this isn't your diary, I suppose you won't mind if I scribble all over it?"
"I honestly don't care, Ronnie! Do what you like, just go away!"
"I'll write dirty words in it! On every page!"
"Goodbye, Ronnie!"
Ginny had thrown the covers aside again when Ronnie returned to their room — it must have got too warm to lie under them in the August afternoon. Her face was still streaked with tears, but she had stopped crying, and it was with a certain curiosity she watched Ronnie march up to the desk, put the diary down and began searching for her quill.
"What are you doing now?" she finally asked.
"I'm going to write all the dirty words I know down in this diary!" said Ronnie, finally locating the quill and the ink-bottle, opening the diary on the first page.
Ginny blinked. "Why?"
"Because I told Percy I would."
"Right. That makes perfect sense."
Ronnie dipped her quill in the ink and wrote, right underneath the faded name of T.M. Riddle, and in large letters: ARSE.
TITS, she added after a second's pause.
FUCK FUCK FUCKING WANKERS, was the next line, followed by BUGGER THOSE ARSEHOLES! and then TWATS AND WANKSTAINS!
Weirdly enough, she felt a little better after having written this, and felt better still when she heard Ginny giggling and realised she was now standing behind her and reading over her shoulder. "Percy told you to write that?"
"He didn't tell me not to."
"Good luck getting Mum to buy that explanation if she ever sees this." But despite her words, Ginny did look a little more cheerful than before.
Encouraged that she seemed to have taken Ginny's mind off Scabbers for the moment, Ronnie wrote SHAG ME WITH MY KNICKERS ON, and burst into giggles. All right, it was childish, but it felt good to laugh. She was just about to start writing down the really dirty words, the ones nobody even knew she knew — when all of a sudden, quite without warning, all the words she had written completely vanished from the page, as if the paper simply absorbed them.
Ronnie pulled the quill back so fast that a small drop of ink dripped onto the page, and that too vanished, leaving behind a page as blank and empty as it had been before she had started writing.
And then, quite on their own, new words began forming on the page, in Ronnie's own ink, words she'd never written:
You have an impressive vocabulary, but perhaps a little crude?
"Fucking hell!" Ronnie blurted out, staring at the page.
"Didn't you say this was a Muggle diary?" said Ginny.
"Well, it looked Muggle!" said Ronnie. "Got the name of a Muggle shop on the back cover and everything!"
"Muggles don't have books that write by themselves," said Ginny, and then added in a slightly more uncertain tone: "Do they?"
Ronnie had to think a bit about that. Dad always did say that Muggles could do more than wizards gave them credit for, but did that include self-writing diaries? Probably not, she decided. It was more likely, then, that this T. M. Riddle had bought the diary in a Muggle shop and enchanted it afterwards.
Just as she was about to tell Ginny her conclusion, the text on the page vanished. Moments later, it was replaced with: Hello? Are you there?
"I don't think it can hear us," said Ginny. "Or see us."
"It's a book. It doesn't have eyes or ears. Probably doesn't even know there are two of us." Ronnie looked at the quill in her hand and re-loaded it with ink. "Well, one way to find out. Watch this." And with that she put quill to paper and wrote: My name is Draco Malfoy.
This time, the ink seeped into the page and vanished almost immediately, and more words formed on the page: Hello, Draco Malfoy. My name is Tom Riddle. How did you come by my diary?
Ronnie giggled. "See? It thinks I'm Malfoy."
"He thinks you're Malfoy," Ginny corrected. "He said his name was Tom."
"Oh, yeah. Tom." Ronnie paused. There was something strangely familiar about that name. She'd heard it before somewhere, but couldn't remember just where or in what context. (What she wouldn't give to have Harry's memory; he always seemed to remember even the smallest details of the past.) Wait — the old barman at the Leaky Cauldron was named Tom, wasn't he?
"Write something more!" Ginny urged. "Pretend you're Malfoy! How would he have come by the diary?"
"Oh, I know!" Ronnie giggled and wrote: I stole it. The previous owner was complete scum and clearly unworthy of owning a diary.
Unworthy? Tom wrote back. The letters looked slightly shaky, as if he was writing in a hurried way. Who was the previous owner? Where did you get the diary, Draco? Tell me!
Sod off, Riddle, Ronnie wrote, still in character as Malfoy. I do not take orders from a lowly Muggle book! I am from the most Pureblooded of all Pureblood families, and I'm going to tell my father on you!
Ginny broke down laughing.
The words vanished, and the page went blank for several seconds. Then, when the text appeared again, it was far less shaky, as if Tom was forcing himself to be calm. I do apologise, he wrote. That was very rude of me. But I do not think you understand how important this diary is. It mustn't fall into the wrong hands. Please, tell me where you got it.
Ronnie exchanged glances with Ginny. The text seemed so serious that she dropped the act and wrote: I don't understand. What do you mean, wrong hands? Why is this diary so important?
Secrets, Draco, Tom answered. Powerful secrets. Secrets that could change the entire world if they were known. I preserved them in this diary. Now, please tell me where you got it.
The Weasley sisters looked at one another again.
"What's a diary with secrets that could change the entire world doing inside a Gilderoy Lockhart book?" said Ronnie.
"Ir's a lie," said Ginny. "It must be." But she didn't sound so certain.
Hesitantly, Ronnie wrote: What secrets?
I don't dare to tell you, at least not yet, came the response. No offence to such a great Pureblood, of course, but I don't even know if I can trust you. You admitted to stealing the book and won't tell me who from.
I got it from Gilderoy Lockhart. Well, Ronnie thought as she wrote this, it was technically true.
Lockhart... If text could ever be said to look thoughtful, Tom's certainly did. I don't know the name.
You don't? Ronnie wrote. He's famous!
Surprisingly, Tom responded to this with: What year is it, please?
1992, Ronnie replied, almost automatically. Why?
That long... Again, Tom's writing seemed to take on an inexplicably thoughtful look. That explains it. It's been more than forty years since this diary was first enchanted, so i hope you will forgive me that I'm not up-to-date with the latest celebrity gossip.
Ginny stifled a giggle. "What?" she said, a tad defensively. "That was kinda funny."
All I know is that this Gilderoy Lockhart is certainly not on the list of the very few people I would have trusted with this diary, Tom continued. If you say he is scum, then he probably got it through dodgy means. I usually don't condone stealing, Draco, but you may have done a very good thing when you stole my diary from him.
What could he have done with it? Ronnie wrote.
Terrible things. Or wonderful things. As I said, this diary contains powerful secrets. Once again, I'm not certain it's safe to go into details. But tell me, Draco, do you know Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?
"Is he serious?" said Ronnie, looking back at Ginny. "Everyone knows Hogwarts! What sort of bollocks question is that?"
"The sort of question someone who's forty years out of date would ask, I suppose," said Ginny sagely. "A lot of things must've changed in forty years."
Yes, I do, Ronnie wrote. I'm about to start my second year there. Gilderoy Lockhart's about to begin as Defence against the Dark Arts teacher there too, she added after a moment's hesitation.
Are you perhaps at Hogwarts right now? Tom's question came quicker than any of the others had; it was hard to tell from the text, but he almost seemed excited.
No, it's Summer. School starts in about two weeks.
This time it took a little longer for Tom's next line to appear. Draco, I realise that it's very forward of me to ask, but will you do me a favour? When you go to Hogwarts, will you take my diary with you? If Gilderoy Lockhart had my diary, and was going to Hogwarts, that can't be a coincidence. He may be up to no good, but I can't stop him on my own. I'm just an enchanted diary. I will need the help of a talented Pureblood like yourself.
"This," said Ronnie, "is starting to become seriously effed up."
"But why would Lockhart give you the diary if he was planning to use it for bad things at Hogwarts?" said Ginny.
"He didn't! He gave the books to Harry, remember? He must have wanted Harry to have the diary!"
"All right, why would he give Harry the diary? Was it just a mistake, or...? No, that doesn't seem likely."
Please, Draco, Riddle wrote when Ronnie didn't reply to him. I really do need your help. The entire world may need your help.
Ronnie swallowed. She had no idea what to do, or what to believe. What can I do? she wrote.
You can spy on this Gilderoy Lockhart for me. Try to find out what he does, if he acts suspiciously, and then tell me about it. If I know what he's up to, I might be able to figure out how he can be stopped. There was a slight pause after the text faded, and then Tom added: It is, of course, possible that I'm wrong. That he just had my diary through some strange coincidence and that nothing untoward is going on. But I need to know. I beg you, Draco. Help me.
Ronnie looked at Ginny again. "What do we do?" she asked.
"Why are you asking me?!"
Shakingly, Ronnie put quill to paper again. Can I think about it for a bit?
Of course, Tom answered. I don't want to force you to do anything. I can only appeal to your better nature and Pureblood honour.
"Good thing it's not the real Malfoy you're talking to then," Ronnie muttered. "He doesn't have a better nature. And Pureblood honour? First time I've ever heard of that."
Also, if you help me, I might be able to help you. I know a lot of interesting magic you might find useful. And, not to brag, but I have been known to give good advice in the past. I could help you with all sorts of problems you might have. I could be like a sage friend you can carry around in your pocket.
"He does know how to make an offer tempting, doesn't he..." said Ginny.
But sleep on it, Tom suggested. Think about it for a while. There's not much you can do before school starts anyway. By the way, does anyone else know about me?
Ronnie looked at Ginny again, but the younger girl shook her head furiously. "Say no!"
No, Ronnie answered.
I see. I beg you to keep it that way then. Don't even tell your family or closest friends. I'm sure they are trustworthy, but there are such things as truth serums and other ways of getting people to talk. The fewer people who know about me, the safer we all are.
Ronnie took a deep breath and closed the book. To her surprise, her heart was pounding in her chest and she felt cold shivers down her back, even in the heat of the room. Ginny was looking uncertain and a little pale.
"What do we do?" Ronnie repeated. "Can we even trust Tom? I'm not sure he was completely honest with us. A little too much on about Purebloods for my liking."
"We weren't completely honest with him either," said Ginny. "He still thinks we're Malfoy."
"Well, yeah. If I was trying to get a Malfoy's help in anything, I'd probably lie my arse off too," Ronnie admitted. "And talk about Purebloods."
Just then, she heard the front door downstairs slam, and Fred's cheerful voice announcing: "We're home!"
"Oh," said Ronnie, looking down at the diary, then at Ginny, then towards the door, through which the voices of Fred, George and Harry could now clearly be heard. "How about we talk more about this tonight, after we've gone to bed? We can plan what to do then!"
Ginny nodded. "Better hide the diary in the meantime," she said, snatching it up from the desk and then hurrying over to her bed to hide the small book under her pillow. "And let's not tell anyone about it until we're certain what to do!"
"Agreed," said Ronnie, looking at Ginny's pillow. It looked completely normal, with no sign that an enchanted diary was hiding under it. "C'mon, let's go find out how many weird tricks Fred and George have taught Harry on that broomstick."
TO BE CONTINUED...
Author's Note: Uh-oh. Ronnie and Ginny may be heading for trouble... Tom Riddle takes a slightly different approach with who he thinks is Draco Malfoy than he did in canon with Ginny. With Ginny, he found it more convenient to pretend just to be her diary - here, he's trying to appeal to a different mindset.
And why did Scabbers run off? Was it Crookshanks, was it Lucius Malfoy... or was it something else?
Oh, and on a slightly lighter note: It may seem kind of strange that Hermione's mother thinks of her as "shy," but I think it fits. Hermione isn't a particularly social person and before Hogwarts probably kept to her own for the most part. Mr. Granger apparently played Dungeons & Dragons in his youth, proving that even dentists can be proud geeks. Next chapter, Neville returns, and a certain blonde, "loony" girl is waiting to make her first Weasley Girl appearance.