owl post
(a harry potter story)
Ginny slept rather restlessly that night, praying her letter was good enough. Did it cover all she wanted to cover? Was she too harsh? Did she even make sense? Thoughts tore at each other, stripping themselves down to one question:
What did Harry even want?
He said he wanted a shoulder to cry on. Was he just going to explain his story and then goodbye! Or did he expect her to actually write to him for a long time? Ginny was extremely confused.
On Sunday, Harry's letter did not arrive. This worried Ginny immensely and she could hardly focus on anything.
On Monday she slept til ten o'clock, nearly missing breakfast.
Running to the Great Hall in scrubby robes and tangled hair, she slid into her seat.
The beautiful snowy owl was back, waiting expectantly at Ginny's seat.
"Oh, it's the owl again!" someone cooed, and soon everyone was all over the gorgeous creature. Ginny felt glowing pride—she knew the owl's name.
Hedwig. Such a lovely, simple name. It suited the owl very well, as the bird was very plain, but very beautiful. Ginny stroked its back, feeding it some of her bacon. The owl hooted attentively, and Ginny smiled.
"Thank you," she whispered. The owl clicked its beak and soared off, great amber eyes visible from a far distance.
"Ginny, this is just weird now. You've gotten three letters in a row and won't tell us who they're from or what they're about!" Angie exclaimed angrily. "I'm your best friend, you know. Corey and I have been worried. For the past week, you're either spitting mad or bubbly and happy. It's odd."
Ginny avoided Angie's pale eyes. "I'm just dealing with some stuff, okay? Private and confidential. Just because I'm your best friend doesn't mean I have to tell you absolutely everything, especially if it doesn't concern you."
Angie nodded sullenly, stabbing a sausage rather angrily. "You're just not yourself, lately."
Ginny fought off an insane smile.
How can I be? Harry Potter—HARRY POTTER—is writing goddamn letters to me! He trusts me with his most private secrets! And I don't know what to do, really, or how to respond! He's just crying on my shoulder right now!
This led Ginny to another fearful question—
What was to come?
Sure, right now things were sailing quite smoothly. But what else did Harry have to say? What if he wanted her to do something for him?
"See, you look terrified again. What is going on in your head?" Angie gently tapped Ginny's forehead. "I do wonder about you sometimes."
Ginny smiled through her angst.
"I do too."
Ginny ran into a bathroom and locked the door to her stall. Unfurling her letter, the sight of Harry's hastily scribbled words made her heart both stop and speed up at the same time.
Dear Ginerva,
I'm going to call you Ginerva because it is a beautiful name. I can only assume that you are a beautiful girl (you might say "you know what I look like!" but really, I don't. I'm sorry—the fleeting glances I caught of you haven't really stuck in my memory.)
(This made Ginny deflate like a balloon—although it was her own fault. She hadn't shown her face much to Harry. He'd been through so much that it was natural to forget an insignificant little girl. And yet—it hurt so much, to know that she'd admired him for so long and he couldn't remember what she looked like. He assumed she was beautiful and she was sorry she had to let him down. Ginny did not believe she was beautiful in the slightest.)
But I do think you ARE beautiful because you chose to help me. Even though you don't have to, you did.
I guess this letter will be short but don't leave, don't leave, please don't leave me. I finally might get—I don't exactly know how to put this—"better". I'm writing this while I'm sad so I apologize if it comes off as blunt and insensitive.
I'm just going to answer your questions and then I have a few of my own if that's okay.
Durmstrang? Durmstrang is awful. I don't belong here! I need out, but I can't leave another school. Hogwarts isn't an option anymore. I also literally can't—once you're signed up, you don't leave. It becomes prison. Durmstrang is the only way, but it's the wrong way. I need to get out—quickly, before I go insane. All they do is teach us how lovely the Dark Arts are, and we practice them on prisoners. PRISONERS. Prisoners of a nearby prison that Grindelwald built. It's terrible, Ginerva.
I'm not asking you to help me get out of Durmstrang. I'm asking you to help me get out of my head. I need to be sane again.
Okay. I'm seventeen—which you should know, you goofball, since you've met me before.
And the last question troubled me for so long. I thought for about twenty minutes after I wrote that last sentence.
I do, Ginerva.
I trust you.
The letter ended right there, and it worried Ginny immensely. It was as though he was purposely trying to rip her to shreds. Her heart both soared and fell at the same time. She was fighting an internal battle. She really didn't think she was the least bit qualified to help a mentally challenged, depressed, alcoholic seventeen-year-old wizard. She half-wanted him to say Oh, never mind. I don't need your help. But another part of her remembered the Harry she fell for. He was a virtual stranger, but she knew the ghost of him was still there somewhere. And it both gave her despair and wild, wild hopes.
"Ginerva, please demonstrate a successful Vanishing Spell," Professor Flitwick squeaked, "seeing as you are the only one who seems to have an inch of sanity today!"
True, the class had been more chatty than usual. But Valentine's Day was fast approaching, and all the buzz was about the "Enchanted Ball"—a less sophisticated version of the Yule Ball, you could say. The Great Hall would be decorated with cherubs of angels, floating hearts, and singing roses. It'd be "pinked out", as Corey so rightly put it. Ginny wasn't so excited about that—pink, after all, did not suit her. She did enjoy attending with Angie last year, however, and was frequently asked to dance by boys she didn't know very well. Naturally, she said yes—only so as not to hurt anyone's feelings (she knew what it was like to be wistful about someone).
Ginny pointed her wand at the old mannequin they were practicing on. "Evanesco!" she said clearly, and the mannequin disappeared from sight.
"Very good!" Flitwick cheered, clapping his hands. "You follow in Miss Granger's footsteps, I see!"
Ginny blushed slightly. "Hermione is ten times the witch I am," she admitted.
Flitwick shook his head. "Nonsense. You are both very bright girls. Hup, hup, class! Back to work!"
Everyone returned to their mannequins, varying voices calling out "Evanesco!" to no avail. By the end of the hour, only Ginny was able to fully vanish an object. Clarissa Wallwinder, one of Ginny's fellow Gryffindors, came close, but could not get the mannequin's head to disappear—in the end, she got so frustrated that she accidentally set the head on fire and it chased Flitwick around the classroom.
"That was an interesting lesson, Hermione Granger 2.0," Corey said teasingly.
"Shut up, Ron. You're no help," Ginny poked back. "I was right, though. Hermione's a thousand times better at magic than I am. Just because I can wave my wand and make a dummy go who-knows-where doesn't mean I'm the next Hermione."
"Don't say that about yourself, Gin," Corey said reasonably. "You're the best in our year."
Ginny gave a little sigh-laugh and shrugged. "If you say so, Core." Her eyebrows furrowed and she looked at Corey. "Angie told me you two have been worried about me."
Corey looked uncomfortable. He stared at his feet.
"We have."
"Why? I'm perfectly fine!" Ginny bit back her temper. It was just so irritating that they needed to know everything. "My life is not your book to open at will and read."
"Gin, I never said that—"
"But you keep asking!"
Corey backed away, hands in the air. "Okay. We won't ask anymore."
Ginny felt terrible for exploding like that, but she couldn't help it. The last week had been mixes of heaven and hell—all having to do with Harry.
she'd only gotten three letters was the worst part
so much drama and only three letters.
Ginny knew Harry was somewhere close to her. But that didn't add up with his Durmstrang story—how was Hedwig arriving so quickly? She didn't dwell on the topic, but it certainly bit at her. She was more concerned with Harry, not his means of letter-delivering.
He doesn't want help breaking out of Durmstrang, just breaking out of his own head. He called me a goofball. He's seventeen. He's an alcoholic. He destroyed the Dark Lord for good. He practices the Dark Arts on prisoners. He needs help. He trusts me.
Ginny tossed these things around her head, trying to form a person out of them. All she could picture was a tiny second-year Harry, sheepish and still so new to the wizarding world. She wished he still went to Hogwarts. She wished it so dearly.
Ginny hopped onto her poor excuse for a broom. "Okay, Weasley! We're letting out the Snitch!" Ginny kicked off the hard, frozen ground, her red-and-gold scarf trailing behind her as she flew around on her Nimbus Two Thousand. She'd finally been awarded a better broom—although the Nimbus Two Thousand and One was the broom she really wanted. Her Two Thousand would have to do for now.
She saw the Snitch being released from the crate—a tiny flutter of gold against the dark ground. She watched it zoom around the pitch. Ginny tore after it, making sharp turns and never taking her eyes off the prize.
Within seconds, she was right behind it. Her fingers brushed its delicate wings—
Harry was a Seeker too.
She let out an involuntary gasp. She halted her broom, feeling her hands tremble.
FOCUS, YOU DUMBASS
Ginny shook her head. She flew after it, Harry still occupying her mind.
How are you already so distracted by him? He's sent you THREE LETTERS! You're pathetic!
She was angry. She was angry at herself, angry at Harry. And she flew like a goddamn comet, so fast she almost fell off of her broom. Her still-shaking fingers closed around the Snitch. Its tiny wings beat helplessly against her palm.
"I'VE GOT IT!" Ginny screamed.
She returned to the ground.
Katie Bell put a hand on Ginny's shoulder. "You okay? You stopped pretty suddenly up there."
Ginny nodded vigorously. "Oh yeah. Just a sneeze."
"Well, you better not sneeze in the upcoming match. You almost didn't catch that thing—although I am glad you perked up and flew after that thing like it'd set your broomstick on fire."
Ginny laughed weakly. "Yeah. I got mad that I stopped like that—decided to do something about it."
"Okay, team. I'm going to teach you a move called the Sloth Grip Roll…"
Ginny walked stiffly back up to the castle with her team: Dean Thomas, Katie Bell, and Demelza Robins (the Chasers); Jimmy Peakes and Ritchie Coote (the Beaters); and Ron (the Keeper). Ginny was the Seeker, and she was damn good at her job. Some called her the best female Seeker in a very long while. Ginny hadn't lost a match yet.
"Alright, team. Saturday it is! We'll have practice tomorrow, same time." Katie was the Captain this year, and she was a very good Captain.
But Ginny remembered watching Harry fly—and he could fly like no other. She wondered if he would still be as good even though he hadn't flown in over a year, and it made her sad. Quidditch was Harry's passion. Even she knew that.
Her mind reeled with what she was going to say in her next letter.
Dear Harry,
I'm happy to hear that you trust me—because I trust you too. And I'm sorry to say that I'm not beautiful. I've got stark-red hair just like Ron's and boring brown eyes. You remember what I looked like as a young girl. It's all been downhill from there.
I can't believe they're making you practice on prisoners.
That's sick, Harry, that's really sick. You should just try and fly off on your broomstick.
By the way, I practiced Quidditch today and it reminded me of you. You were the best Seeker in a century, Harry. I wish you still flew for us. I'd much rather play Chaser. We'd win for sure, with you and I on a team.
I guess I just miss you, Harry. You knew I had a crush on you. I must say, I don't anymore, but I miss you. I miss how happy Ron was when you were around. I miss you coming over to stay. I miss watching you play Quidditch and win us matches. A lot of things changed at Hogwarts when you left. A lot.
I have another question.
Why are you writing to me? What do you want from me? I know you said you want help "breaking out of your own head". But I'm afraid I don't quite understand what that means. I don't see why you chose me, of all people. Harry, I don't get anything. I'm confused. Are we just going to write back and forth like pen-pals, or is there a long-term goal? Please, please explain.
I would also like to know how you're sending your letters back so fast, if that's alright. I have so many questions.
But I don't have enough answers.
From your confused acquaintance,
Ginny
Ginny's head was spinning.
You're stuck in my head, Harry, and sometimes I wish you weren't.
She took her time tying to her letter to Quinn's leg. Her fingers were shaking so badly that she nearly tore the delicate parchment multiple times. It was awhile before she realized that she had no string in her hands.
She struck her forehead with her fist. I'm going crazy, she thought, with the weight of Harry on my shoulders.
"Get out of my head," she whispered.
"Gin?" Corey asked cautiously. "Are you okay?"
Ginny smiled reassuringly. "Fine, why do you ask?"
"You were really mad earlier." He sighed. "I just want to know who's writing you letters, Ginny."
Ginny threw him a contemptuous glare. "I know you're concerned, and that's sweet, Corey. But I'm fine. You don't need to know. It's private. Let it go."
He nodded, looking very put-out.
"Corey, I swear, if something was wrong I'd tell you." She squeezed his arm and rustled his hair. "You're so clingy, god."
He smiled and gave a tiny laugh. "Sometimes I just need a little love."
Ginny laughed. "Let's just go to the lake."
Corey shook his head. "Can't. I'm meeting, uh, Scarlett Prespon by the Whomping Willow." His cheeks were red and he wouldn't meet Ginny's eyes.
"Seriously?"
He nodded, embarrassed.
"That's awesome, dude! Go get her, tiger!" she said, grinning widely.
Corey's shoulders slumped slightly. He smiled. "Okay. See you at dinner."
Ginny didn't show up to dinner. She was in her dormitory, poring over books.
"Famous Wizarding Figures of the Twenty-First Century…Famous Recent Works of Wizards…How the Dark Lord Rose and Fell…Harry Potter: His Life So Far…"
She opened the first thick book. Plumes of dust rose and watered her eyes.
"Harry Potter…Harry Potter…"
She found Famous Wizarding Figures of the Twenty-First Century's index. There, one of the most recent entries was Harry Potter.
"Harry Potter was born 31 July, 1980 to James and Lillian Potter. His greatest feat occurred as a child, when the Dark Lord entered his house in Godric's Hollow. He killed James and Lillian and then proceeded to attempt to destroy the young boy, but for a reason the curse rebounded, striking the Dark Lord himself and leaving Harry unscathed but for a scar on his forehead. Harry Potter currently attends Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
The entry simply wasn't recent enough. Ginny wanted to know about Harry's downward spiral into depression and drinking.
Ginny fell asleep with her cheek resting on the four-hundredth page of The Most Famous Wizards of Our Time. She had found almost nothing about Harry, except for things she already knew.