A/N: This particular chapter has been updated to not be as terrible as it was in one particular way. If you can't tell what that is, it's done its job.
Harry was rather enjoying his first day back at school. It was more an evening than a day considering how long the Hogwarts Express took to get them here. Still, that only meant less time spent ignoring extra attention from the adoption.
A cry from Neville and a triumphant shout from Ron snapped Harry abruptly out of his reverie. He jumped nearly out of his skin, but they were clearly too happy to care. Ginny, on the other hand, glared at him from his shoulder.
"What is it?" Hermione asked. She'd been doing her Charms essay with her usual vigour, but when she saw what Neville held up to her, she abandoned it entirely. "You're joking! All this time it was on a chocolate frog card?"
"What was?" Harry asked. Then he gasped.
'What, Harry?' Ginny asked curiously, her annoyance at being jolted like that quickly evaporating.
'The first chocolate frog card I ever saw. It was Dumbledore's. It said he worked on alchemy with Nicholas Flamel!' he replied ecstatically.
Ginny dived to the ground among the piles of cards, making Ron groan in frustration. He and Neville had been sorting their cards, convinced they each had the ones the other was missing. "Show me Dumbledore's card!"
Harry shook his head in amusement. She could have just read the one Hermione had, but that would have been boring. His desperate curiosity over the mysterious Flamel was forgotten as he watched Ginny. She looked over at him, and slung the card to him; he caught it instinctively but didn't look down at it immediately. When she smiled at him, it was like butterflies had taken flight in his stomach... Harry felt his face burn and snapped his eyes down to the card. He could just feel her smirking at him.
ALBUS DUMBLEDORECURRENTLY HEADMASTER OF HOGWARTS
Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling.
Hermione gasped aloud. "Stay here, all of you!" She sprinted off up to her dorm. Harry had never seen her move so fast. Barely two minutes later, she was back with a heavy-looking book in her arms. "I took this out of the library a few weeks ago for some light reading-"
"You call that light?" Ron interrupted. Neville elbowed him hard and muttered to him to shut up. It was an unusual sight to say the least. Ron submitted, but it was unclear whether it was out of respect or out of surprise that Neville would be so confident. Hermione looked up, blinking. She flashed Neville a smile, and went back to flicking through 'Alchemy: The Definitive Guide'; Neville went beet red.
Ginny sat back in his lap. 'You see that?'
'Mm-hm. Wonders never cease,' he replied.
'Oh, do shut up, Harry!' Ginny laughed in his head. 'That's cruel.'
"I've got it! Nicolas Flamel is the only known maker of-" Hermione began, only to be interrupted for the second time in fewer minutes.
"The Philosopher's Stone! Of course, how could I have been so stupid!" Ginny cried. Everyone turned to look at her. She stared at Ron and Neville disbelievingly. "Hermione and Harry have valid excuses for not having heard about it. But you two! Okay, maybe we can excuse Ron — he never was the sharpest kni-"
"Shut up, Ginny!" he muttered.
"Come on! Mum said even muggles have heard of it: the stone with the power to turn any metal into gold? It lets you live forever?" Ginny pleaded with them, unable to understand their lack of comprehension.
"Oh!" Neville said, his eyes wide with the revelation.
"The sickle drops," Ginny drawled, rolling her eyes.
"I've heard the name too, actually," Hermione said softly. "I thought I'd heard it somewhere before, but I couldn't remember anything about him. I guess if I'd asked Mum and Dad they might've made the connection..."
'Um, Ginny, why didn't we just ask your mum and dad about Flamel?' he asked.
'We had plenty on our minds,' she replied. 'You can't have forgotten that cloak already.'
'Want to go explore under it tonight?' he asked.
'We'd better. You'll need your sleep tomorrow for practice on Tuesday,' Ginny said.
'Yes, Mum,' he replied.
'Oh, you are so going to pay,' she growled.
'I'm looking forward to it.'
'Prat,' she snorted.
"A philosopher's stone sounds like plenty to warrant a three-headed dog as its guard..." Hermione mused.
"Come on Hermione, tell us what's going on in there," Ginny teased.
"Well, we could all feel the compulsion charms and whatever else the professors put on that corridor. I was just wondering what else they used to guard it. I mean, I'm pretty sure that a qualified wizard could get past that thing," Hermione said.
"Not to burst your bubble or anything," Neville began with a grin, "but I don't think that's a homework project you'd want to work on, Hermione."
"I could handle that thing," Hermione sniffed.
"Anyway, if Snape gets past that dog, we'd better hope that those other protections are powerful," Harry said solemnly.
"Hopefully, they'll be quite violent, too," Ginny added with an odd glint in her eye.
"Ginny! He's a Professor!" Hermione exclaimed.
"Have you even seen the way he treats Harry?" she shot back.
"Well, that's beside the point," Hermione said.
"I know," said Harry. "The point is, if the git does something that gets him beaten up in there, I doubt he'll be doing much that's worthy of a professor."
Harry lay fully dressed in his four-poster, his wand held loosely in his hand, and the cloak hanging suspended in mid-air above him. He made it spin and swirl gently, looking at it from every angle. 'It was my dad's.' He released the Levitation Charm, and the cloak drifted downwards, rippling as it went. As soon as it touched him, it disappeared, taking a large portion of his body with it.
Use it well.
What qualified as using this well? He didn't even know who'd sent it. He pulled the note out from under his pillow, knowing he wouldn't be able to recognise the writing any better than the last fifty times he'd read it. Still, he read it over and over again. Sometimes he would skim it through, hearing the words from his memory more prominently than comprehending the loopy lines on the parchment. Other times, he looked so closely, he could see the stray bit of ink that had flown off the quill as the 'i' in 'it' was dotted. Surely all the staff at this school had been around long enough to have known his parents if Hagrid knew them. He only looked about forty. Then again, he was inhumanly tall, so maybe aging didn't work the same way for him either. But even still, if it had been a professor, why would they give him an invisibility cloak? He was an eleven-year-old boy. If it had been Seamus that received it, he'd have already started terrorising the girls with it.
When the boy in question finally went to sleep, Harry slid the note back under his pillow, and put aside the cloak. Using charms rather than hands to slide open his curtains, he slid silently out of the bed. He pulled the cloak about himself and shut the curtains of the four-poster behind him. The whole castle was open to them tonight.
He padded silently down the stone steps. Whispers and laughter reached out to him from behind wooden doors as the older students discussed their Christmases. Ginny was on the move now, too. He waited at the bottom of the girls' staircase for her to appear. Seconds later, she was right in front of him.
All of a sudden, she stopped, and looked him square in the eyes. "You breathe far too loudly, Harry," she admonished lightly. He jumped, stumbling backwards, and she had to cover her mouth to stifle her laughter. Harry had a little difficulty regaining his footing, for the cloak formed a trip hazard all on its own and slightly distorted his vision just as an added bonus. He gave up, choosing to grab her arm and pull her down with him instead.
She gasped as his invisible hand yanked at her. But at the last second, he rolled away, desperately trying to contain his mirth. The look on her face as she reached out and felt only air was priceless. She stood slowly, her face unreadable.
"Harry..." she whispered. She extended her hand, palm up, and produced a little fountain of water, which began collecting above her head. "You don't want me to make you show yourself, do you?" Her evil little grin told him in no uncertain terms that the threat was genuine.
Eyes wide, he dived behind a couch as the water flew outwards. The fire that lit the room day and night was doused, and darkness fell.
"Drat!" she cursed. A few seconds later, fire was once again blazing in the hearth. Harry used the time to creep slowly up behind her. Every sound his body produced as it moved was amplified in his head, but she didn't seem to notice him. When he was just behind her, he threw the cloak to cover both of them, making her jump and spin around. If he'd been paying more attention, Harry might have noticed the peculiar way she was holding herself. As it was, the only warning he got was the mischievous glint in her eyes before he was blasted right in the face.
"Oomph!" he grunted, staggering backwards.
"We're even," she stated calmly.
Blinking the water out of his eyes, Harry glared at her. She smirked back, and after a couple of seconds he realised that he had to back down. If he carried this on, they'd still be here when Percy and Claudia returned from prefect patrol. Biting the inside of his lip to halt the satisfied smile that Ginny's emotions were inspiring, he grabbed her hand.
'Are we going or not?' Harry said.
'I guess. Wish you'd have fought back.'
He rolled his eyes and led his grinning girlfriend out of the common room. The castle was eerily quiet this late at night, and the muffled sounds of their shoes on the carpet were deafening. The Gryffindor access corridor took them out to the seventh floor south main corridor, which swept around towards the hospital wing in one direction and up to the eastern section and the Astronomy Tower in the other direction. Choosing the eastern path, they kept low profiles, keeping to the side of the corridor and slowing at each door and intersection to check carefully for prefects or teachers.
They didn't get far before they came across the first patrol. They flattened themselves against the wall, waiting with bated breath for Professor Sinistra to pass them by. Or rather, Harry did. He could feel Ginny's rapid, shallow breathing on the back of his neck, and it was quickly becoming a major distraction.
The professor sighed softly, turning to gaze up through the window. Harry's breath caught as he refilled his aching lungs, and the professor spun round to look at them, her dark hair whipping across her face. Pinned by her stare, the two of them momentarily forgot they were invisible, freezing in place where they stood. Harry began counting to a hundred slowly in his head. He was sure the professor would be able to hear his thumping heartbeat. As the resident stargazer began to move slowly toward the origin of the disturbance, Ginny returned to Earth and gently began tugging Harry away.
'So, where do you want to go?' Harry asked casually. Now that they were out here, the sheer scale of the castle was overwhelming. They were simply spoilt for choice.
'How about we just walk, and go wherever we end up?'
Harry had been hoping that no one would find out about his adoption. He didn't want the attention, and he'd doubted people would be nice about it. The fact of the matter was that he was rich and famous whereas the Weasleys weren't. Gossip channels picked up on that kind of thing, as ten years with Petunia Dursley had taught him.
His fears were confirmed the very first morning. As soon as he saw a picture of himself and Ginny on the front page of the Daily Prophet, he knew it couldn't be good. Seamus grimaced and tossed his copy over to Harry. Harry gave it a cursory look and threw it straight back.
"I can't fucking believe it!" Ron snarled.
"Ron?!" Hermione hissed anxiously.
"I won't watch my language, Hermione," Ron said. "Have you seen this bollocks?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I have," she said. "It's horrible. But swearing and yelling about it won't help, and you'll just end up getting into trouble."
"I've got to do something!" said Ron vehemently, staring at a sausage he'd rendered an unrecognisable mess on his plate.
"Ron, Hermione's right," Ginny said softly. "Revenge won't help us. Besides, what would we do? We're just schoolkids."
"The girls are talking sense, Ron," said Seamus. "Don't do somethin' stupid."
"We're all behind you, you know," Dean added.
"Yeah," called Fay and Rionach, the other girl in Hermione and Ginny's dorm.
"Ginny..."
Harry turned and noticed that Lavender and Parvati had appeared behind them. Parvati was whispering something in Ginny's ear, and from the look on her face he could get an idea of what Parvati was saying. Ginny glanced across at the Slytherin table, bit her lip and shook her head.
"That'd be pretty great, Parvati, but..."
"Don't worry about it," Parvati said. "But if you change your mind..."
"Thanks," Ginny replied.
Besides the handful of Gryffindors they actually knew, though, it seemed the entire school was whispering behind their backs. That was background noise until they went to Potions. He knew that something bad was going to happen as soon as he saw the smirk on Malfoy's face.
As they sat down ready to start, Malfoy was whispering something in Pansy's ear. Her barely restrained giggling was the second warning. Harry gritted his teeth and scanned the rest of the Slytherins for trouble. Daphne Greengrass was at the next table, watching Malfoy and Parkinson with a raised eyebrow. He hated that about her. He could never tell what the girl was thinking. Was she interested in what Malfoy was saying, or was she keeping her derision silent? Was she, in fact, completely impartial and simply exercising a morbid curiosity to see what new conflicts might erupt between the groups?
Harry shook his head and moved to a new target. Crabbe. 'Pfff...'
When the professor entered, the almost gleeful look on his face told Harry all he needed to know. Harry slumped in his chair and tried to figure out how to get Ron's wand away from him without his friend knowing. Ron would be screwed if he tried to hex Snape.
It began with registration. Snape missed Harry's name completely, and he had an idea what was coming.
"I trust you wish to be listed as a Weasley, now, don't you?" the professor sneered. A snigger went up from the Slytherins.
"I'm sorry, sir?" Harry asked. Ron's ears were beginning to turn pink.
"You have been adopted, Potter. You are a Weasley," said Snape.
"Not as far as I know, professor," Harry replied.
"Really?" Snape asked. "I congratulate you on keeping the great honours of your family name. Tell me then, Potter, how much of your family fortune have you most graciously shared with your new guardians?"
Mrs Weasley's despair at his behaviour in Exeter returned to him in flashes. Snape's mouth was moving, but Harry couldn't hear the words. He felt ashamed suddenly. The Weasleys were the nicest people he'd ever known, and he'd forced upon them the very thing which had the rest of the Wizarding community sneering at them - his wealth.
Harry looked around at Malfoy. The blond boy was reclining slightly in his seat, looking at Harry with an almost predatory expression.
"Look at me when I am speaking to you, Potter," Snape drawled. "That will be two points from Gryffindor for poor manners."
Harry's head snapped around. In this sudden void of emotion, he found a wellspring of anger. He was about to give Snape a piece of his mind when he felt Hermione's hand on his. He turned to her instead, and she shook her head slightly. Harry turned back to Snape, and saw the satisfaction in those cold, dark eyes.
'He's playing you.'
'He can't be allowed to do this.'
'How would you prove anything?'
"I'm sorry, sir," Harry ground out. His throat was uncomfortably tight and warm, and he noticed that his quill had broken in his hand. "Next time you want to insult me or my friends I'll be more receptive."
Snape's face contorted with anger. Hermione gasped beside him and squeezed his hand. Harry didn't care. If Snape wanted to take him to Dumbledore or McGonagall about it, he'd have to explain what Harry meant by the comment, wouldn't he?
"Ten points from Gryffindor," Snape snarled. "You will serve ten days of detention with Mr. Filch. Perhaps that will teach you some humility."
Harry cringed slightly. That was a pretty hefty punishment, and everyone knew how much Filch, the caretaker, hated the students. Harry had some first hand experience of it from previous time spent in detention. But as he saw the rage in Snape's eyes, he felt that there was something he was missing here - there was more to Snape's hatred of him. There was definitely something that Hagrid wasn't telling him.
Morning break was an uncomfortable affair. It seemed that his outburst had only fanned the flames of the rumour mill. When the tenth person whispered her name a little too loudly, Ginny jumped to her feet and led them down to Herbology without so much as a backward glance, even though she wasn't actually attending the class. The Hufflepuffs in their year were generally better than the majority of the school, but Ernie and Zach were exactly the opposite of supportive. Susan offered him a kindly smile, though. Susan... Harry remembered Ginny mentioning her.
She lost all but one of her family to him.
When Professor Sprout finished lecturing them about the uses of the Fire-Making Charm in the management of both magical and mundane plants, Harry made sure he was one of the first out of the greenhouse.
"Hey, Susan," he called as she left. She was a quiet girl, and a bit of a loner — Harry had only ever seen her with Hannah Abbott, and that wasn't too often.
"Hello," she said softly.
Now that he was here, he wasn't sure what exactly to say. What do you say in this situation? 'Hey, both our families were slaughtered in the war, wanna talk about it?' It suddenly seemed like a stupid, impulsive decision.
"Ginny said you might try to talk to me," she added. He hadn't realised how long and awkward the silence had been.
"She did?" he said blankly.
"Yes," she nodded. She wasn't meeting his eyes. Rather, her hazel eyes were fixed on the Hogwarts crest embroidered on his robe.
"So, uh..." said Harry. "This is a lot harder than I thought it would be."
"She predicted that too," Susan sighed. "Do you want to go somewhere?"
"How about the boathouse?" Harry suggested. "I've not explored that yet."
"What have you explored?" Susan asked, smiling slightly.
"Oh, I don't know, Susan," Harry said contemplatively. They set off slowly around the back of the castle towards the boathouse. "I don't think I should tell you. For your own safety."
She snorted delicately. "Right. Let me guess, you've been to the third floor corridor?"
Harry turned to stare at her as they reached the gravel path. "How did you...?"
She hadn't known. He could see that much in her disbelieving stare.
"Dammit," Harry cursed. He didn't know how much trouble they might get into if Susan told on them, but he doubted it would be ten detentions with Filch.
"You're serious, aren't you?" she squeaked. "Dumbledore said..."
"Dumbledore was right," Harry said. "Do you promise not to tell anyone?"
"I..."
"Please, Susan," Harry pleaded. "We didn't do any harm..."
"We?" Susan sounded a little faint. She was certainly looking pale. "Ginny went too, didn't she?"
"Yeah," Harry agreed reluctantly. "She's probably the only reason we didn't get eaten."
"Eaten?!" she shrieked.
"Shh," Harry hissed. "Someone'll hear."
"Harry, are you saying there's some kind of monster in there?" Susan asked.
"This was a really, really bad idea," Harry muttered.
"Sorry, you weren't even going to tell me," Susan said, pulling nervously at her bright copper braid.
"Just promise you won't tell anyone," Harry urged.
"I promise," she said. They walked the rest of the way to the boathouse in a silence that was broken only by the piercing calls of the dark birds flying around the glittering black lake.
The boathouse was a large, wooden hut with only one room, if it could be called a room. It was open to the lake at the front, and the dock to either side extended into the boathouse, following the path of the exterior walls. This left a significant space in the middle which was really just sheltered lake, allowing the boats tied up under the ceiling to be dropped straight onto the water.
Susan sat down carefully at the edge of the dock, dangling her legs over the side.
"Just so you know," Harry said idly, "I can't swim. So try not to fall in."
She turned to him, meeting his eyes for the first time. Her bangs hung low like a sheer curtain over her eyes as she smirked up at him. "I won't."
Harry sat next to her, but kept his feet clear of the edge, tucking his knees up to his chin. A cold wind rippled his robes and made his jet black hair fly about his face like a wild thing.
"I'm sorry about the hell the other students have been giving you," said Susan.
Harry grunted. "Not your fault."
"No," Susan agreed. "But Ginny's always saying I should speak my mind a bit more. My Aunt too, as a matter of fact… Maybe I could do something to help."
"I appreciate the thought, really," said Harry, smiling wryly. "But I reckon if anybody said anything it'd just draw more attention to it."
"Maybe you're right," said Susan. "I just don't know how you stand it."
"We aren't, as far as I can tell," Harry sighed.
Susan's face showed a sudden realisation, and she dropped the subject.
"You know, Ginny seems to rather like you," Harry said, grinning. "She's mentioned a few times that I should meet you."
"It's the red hair," said Susan nonchalantly. "We all know each other."
Harry snorted, turning an amused eye on the Hufflepuff. That would be it. "Did you meet her before Hogwarts?"
"Gods no," Susan laughed. "I think I'd left the house about four times before Hogwarts, and half of those were formal Ministry functions."
"Sounds great," said Harry.
They shared a look, and both began to laugh. If only this was all Ginny had been talking about. Sharing laughter with people was probably the most magical thing Hogwarts had given him.
"How about you?" said Susan. "an adventurous childhood for the Boy Who Lived? Dragons and maidens and pure white steeds?"
"Why do I get the impression nothing I said would make the slightest bit of difference?" said Harry.
"Hmm," said Susan. "You may have a point. Everybody was raised on one Harry Potter story or another. At least they're flattering."
Harry grunted noncommittally, but Susan's smile was teasing. "Professor Snape certainly doesn't feel that way."
"Ah...ha," Susan chuckled. "I've heard about how fond he is of you."
"Yeah, like a hole in the head," Harry griped.
"He's a nasty piece of work," Susan shrugged. "I don't think he's as bad with Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, but I do my best not to let him notice me."
"If you've got the option," Harry sighed. "Personally I'd like to pour Swelling Solution up his ar-"
"Harry!" Susan giggled.
"But no, I didn't get out much either," said Harry softly. "Say, have you visited the walkway outside the sixth floor corridor?"
They whiled away much of the break period with idle chatter, though eventually they got around to the subject of her aunt.
"I swear the only reason she even started taking me to the damned Yule Ball was to have a reason to escape now and then," Susan said, half-amused, half-fuming.
"She sounds really protective," said Harry.
Susan nodded, softening. "Yeah. I understand, really, it's just… I don't want to live the rest of my life in the… the shadow of what happened in the war."
Harry looked at her. Staring at her hands, Susan looked a little surprised. Perhaps she had never tried putting her feelings into words before. Harry somehow doubted it. Why would Ginny, inquisitive as she was, have spared Susan when she so ruthlessly dredged up his past? As his mind worked this problem over, Susan looked up at him.
"That's why you hate all the Boy Who Lived attention so much, isn't it?" she said. "It's like a storm cloud still hanging over you. And you can't escape."
Harry looked away, out over the lake. "I don't even remember them."
"I remember," Susan muttered.
"What happened?" said Harry. "Sorry, I just… Everyone seems to know my story, or my parents'... I didn't even know what happened to them until Hagrid told me."
Susan did not say anything, and Harry found himself unwilling to say more. So, they simply sat and watched the small waves ripple across the surface of the lake. Harry's thoughts began to drift with the breeze...
"It's okay, we won't hurt you," Susan cooed.
Harry stared at the little bird as it swam slowly towards Susan. It was a very dark creature — probably one of the birds that had been flying above the lake earlier. The wings were like patchwork, though, with white squares patterned into the black, and its breast was like freshly fallen snow. Those wings were outstretched now, and flapped furiously as the bird took off from the surface of the water, sparkling drops rolling off its feathers in a shimmering screen. Harry hadn't paid much attention to how birds flew before, but as the creature came in to land on Susan's far side, he couldn't help but relate. It reclined just as he would, offering a large profile to increase drag, flapping to reduce impact speed just as he would apply forward thrust to negate his own.
It was staring back at him now with one round, brown eye. Susan smiled at him.
"I think she's scared of you," she said softly.
"Yeah?" Harry replied just as softly. "Why isn't she afraid of you?"
Susan shrugged slowly. "I've always had a way with animals."
The bird flapped up to Susan's arm, turning its head to keep staring at Harry.
"Isn't she pretty?" Susan asked, softly stroking the back of its neck.
"What?" said Harry. "Yeah."
Neither of them said anything for a while. Susan's bird looked up at her one more time before turning and flying off.
"Fourteen, Harry," she said at last.
Harry looked at her blankly, having lost his focus.
"Fourteen Boneses died in the last war."
Her voice was tight, but she didn't seem weepy at all. Maybe she was all cried out. Harry couldn't say he'd ever cried over his parents, but whenever he'd been particularly badly injured and lain in his cupboard wishing desperately to be rescued from his little hell, he had felt the way she seemed to feel now. Defeated.
"The Ancient and Most Noble House of Bones," she said bitterly.
"I'm sorry for bringing this up," Harry said earnestly. "I didn't..."
"Well, like I said, this wasn't a surprise," Susan sighed. "Auntie Amelia came to get me herself, you know. She was Head of Aurors at the time, but Death Eaters had gotten into the Ministry and were messing everything up, so she couldn't order the Aurors that weren't with her. She sent teams to help defend St. Mungo's Hospital and retake the Ministry, and came to check on the manor herself."
"She sounds really brave," Harry said encouragingly.
"Yeah," Susan said softly. "She's brilliant. But she was too late. They'd killed Dad. She said they killed Mum too, but I found the old newspapers..."
She turned back to him then, and there was a haunted look in her eyes that felt like a knife in his gut. "She was pregnant, and... Auntie Amelia said it was the only time she ever used the Cruciatus Curse."
Harry didn't know exactly what Susan was implying, but he realised that his parents had gotten off lucky. According to Hagrid, Voldemort had just used the Killing Curse on them. They hadn't been tortured or anything.
"They were looking for me when she arrived," Susan muttered. "I don't remember much besides the flashing lights."
"Me too," he confessed. "I dream about it now and then. There's just this bright green flash. I never realised why it scared me so much before people told me about, you know..."
"Yeah, I didn't think you knew much about wizards and magic," Susan mused.
"What do you mean?" Harry asked.
"You're the last of your House," Susan explained. "If you'd been raised as a Potter, you'd have come wearing your family signet ring or something."
"I have a family signet ring?" said Harry bemusedly.
"Well, it doesn't matter really," Susan shrugged. "If you don't have all that stuff already you probably won't get it until you're seventeen."
"Why's that?" Harry asked, rapidly realising that she was right. Six months in and he was still as clueless as ever.
"Age of majority," she said. "You become an adult."
Well, that made sense, at least. It explained why there had been reference to him turning seventeen in the adoption papers.
"What about you?" Harry asked.
"What do you mean?"
"Eventually you're going to inherit all that stuff as well, right?"
"It can rot," she swore vehemently. "I don't want to know."
"But your House..." Harry said quietly.
"Will die," Susan agreed in such an acerbic tone that Harry leaned back slightly. "And You-Know-Who wins. Well, bugger that. He already won. He won when those sick bastards turned what was left of my mother into an inferius after they raped her to send her looking for me. I can still hear her v-voice!"
The tears were flowing now. She'd said too much, or more than she'd wanted to. Harry didn't know what to say. He wasn't even sure what rape was, let alone an inferius.
"I'm sorry," Harry said. It was pathetic and meaningless, he knew, but he couldn't think of anything else. Susan looked up at him then, her brown-green eyes swimming in her misery. And Harry took her in his arms and held her. She was delicate and soft, like Ginny, but shook in her grief in a way that he had never known Ginny to.
"D-Dumbled-dore d-doesn't think he's... g-g-gone," Susan faltered. "Auntie... A-Amelia t-t-t-told me s-so."
Harry's scar twinged slightly, and he turned to look up at the castle. A few people were staring down at them from the courtyard.
"Sh-she w-w-wants me t-to tra-ain as an A-auror," Susan continued, sobbing violently now and choking. Harry rubbed her back slowly in what he hoped was a consoling manner. "She w-wants m-m-me t-to b-be able to f-fight if they c-c... come for me."
"I won't let them," Harry said with a bravery he didn't know he had. He wasn't sure how, but he wasn't going to allow Susan to suffer any more than she already had.
Harry was actually hopeful on Tuesday. The whispering certainly hadn't stopped, but it wasn't anything more than that. Susan had recovered by lunchtime yesterday, and she gave him a wan smile across the Great Hall at breakfast.
'You talked to her?' Ginny asked.
'Yeah,'Harry said. 'Ginny, what's-?'
'Don't ask,' she said fervently. 'Just don't.'
'Anyway, yeah, I'm sorry for breaking down like that about Mum back in the hospital wing' said Harry.
Ginny looked at him strangely for a moment before catching on.'You don't have to apologise. You were going through a lot. I don't know if I would've been any better.'
'True,' Harry smiled. 'You probably would've blown the place up.'
'Hey!' Ginny cried. Harry winced slightly — having someone yell in your head wasn't particularly pleasant. 'Well, maybe, but I'm trying to help you here..."
Harry looked into those big brown eyes as she pouted up at him and sighed dramatically. 'You know, if you use that too much I might overcome it some day.'
'Some day,' she agreed, giggling.
The mood all changed halfway through double Defence. While Professor Quirrell was being his normal, nervous self, Malfoy had chucked a balled-up piece of paper at Ron. Hermione tried to snatch it from him, but she wasn't quick or strong enough.
Ron had leapt to his feet. He dropped his wand accidentally, but that didn't remove the murder from his eyes. It had taken some exceptionally quick thinking from Neville (and the fact that Ron couldn't break Neville's and Hermione's grip) to keep Quirrell from recognising Ron's intent and detaining him.
"Ron, I'm so sorry!" Neville cried, while discretely grabbing a tighter hold on his robes.
"W-w-what's the m-m-matter, b-b-b-boys?" the professor stuttered.
"I'm really sorry, Professor," Neville gasped. Ron was putting up quite the fight. Hermione tried to kick him in the shins to break his determination, but she caught Neville instead. She mouthed a desperate 'sorry' as Neville's eyes watered. "My wand did something to Ron's leg. I left it in my pocket, but..."
They hadn't been watching Harry. He'd taken the note when Ron had dropped it, and he entirely lost track of the commotion.
You know, the Weasleys have never had two sickles to rub together, but I've never heard of them whoring out their daughters before. That's probably because they've never had daughters before, right?All he could see was Malfoy's contemptuous smirk. He got up, sending his chair flying backwards. The silence was deafening.
Someone screamed.
Bright lights were flickering somewhere. All sound melted into a low buzz in Harry's ears.
"Let's go, right now," Harry snarled.
Malfoy wasn't smirking anymore. Harry could hear a fizzling noise from somewhere. As he raised a hand to gesture for Malfoy to stand up, he finally noticed the electric currents surging around it, crackling and discharging randomly. His anger fizzled out, and there was a sound like a thunderclap as the lightning discharged into the floor, the walls, Malfoy's book... The masonry took the blast with little more than dust clouds, but Malfoy's book burst into flames, along with the table beneath it.
Harry was exhausted. All of a sudden he could barely stay standing, where just a moment ago he'd been ready to punch Draco Malfoy into next week. Looking around, he saw that his chair had smashed into Seamus and Dean's table, and they were taking cover underneath. Professor Quirrell actually had his wand in his hand, though it was only pointed at the floor. It seemed that he had put out the fire, but he looked... afraid? No, that was...
Pain seized him, ripping through his scar. Harry stumbled back towards Hermione and the others, confused by the sudden jolt to his forehead. Neville took him by the arm and recovered his chair. Nobody breathed a word through all of this, simply watching in shocked silence. Harry broke the silence seconds later, groaning silently and flexing his fingers, which were feeling a bit tingly.
Quirrell was still staring at him, and still had his wand out. Harry stared back.
"Harry..." Hermione whispered into his ear.
"Ten points from G-Gryffindor. N-now gytrashes are f-found in d-dark w-w-woodland areas," Quirrell said, breaking the silence. It seemed off to Harry though. "Our Fo-F-Forbidden Forest is h-home t-t-to a great many of them."
He was still staring at Harry, and it was beginning to unnerve him. Quirrell didn't stare. He was too nervous and anxious for confrontation. 'Is he threatening me?'
Ginny was more than equal to Pansy Parkinson's and Carina Rayne's jibes, but the ordeal definitely seemed to be wearing on her. The problem here was, it wasn't just a couple of idiot Slytherins throwing a few words here and there. The whole school seemed to be looking at them oddly. The rest of Gryffindor remained largely neutral, of course. That certainly helped, and Harry was getting slowly used to ignoring people staring at him anyway.
Ron, on the other hand, had an incredibly short fuse. It took gargantuan efforts from his friends and family to keep him from hexing Slytherins in the hallways. He was dealing with the strain by running to the dorm at every opportunity to hex and beat his pillows to a feathery mess. They'd be mysteriously returned to their normal state an hour or so later. Ginny thought it was probably house-elves.
The poor guy was actually getting rather paranoid, scolding his younger siblings at any public displays of affection. Harry was starting to worry about him. He didn't want Ron to get in trouble over this. He most certainly didn't want Malfoy to get the satisfaction, and Harry'd been more than lucky to get away with attacking him in front of a teacher. When they discussed it later, the only explanation anyone could come up with was that Quirrell had been so intimidated by Harry's display that he was afraid to do more than take points.
At least Harry had Quidditch to take his mind off things. Flying always focused him perfectly, and he forgot all his worries above fifty feet. Wood was working them harder and longer, desperate for a victory against Hufflepuff. Harry was part of a very small minority supporting Oliver's inhuman drive, for it was better to improve his physique and Quidditch skills than to hide in Gryffindor tower like a fugitive.
However, it was at Quidditch practice where his mood finally collapsed. Oliver had come onto the pitch looking so grim Harry thought he'd finally gotten into a duel over a match. He certainly took Quidditch seriously enough. But he hadn't. Fred, who'd been pretending to fall off his broom, actually did fall off and got up coughing up mud. Angelina looked about ready to hit something. Harry did. When he kicked the ground, mud flew everywhere, and gave Fred a second coating.
Professor Severus Snape was refereeing the next game.
Ginny had told him that whoever had been cursing his broom in the last game had definitely been in the teacher's stands. She couldn't say for sure who had been doing it, but she hadn't needed to. Only one teacher hated Harry that much.
"Err, Harry, say that with a straight face," Ron pleaded.
"He's not joking. Gryffindor is screwed," Ginny moaned.
"Don't play, Harry!" Hermione cried.
He sighed. It wasn't as if that hadn't crossed his mind. Gryffindor was more important though, and without a Seeker, they'd have to forfeit. "There's no reserve to take my place. I've got no choice."
"So exactly how do we get around Hufflepuff getting their greatest victory over Gryffindor in Quidditch history?" Ron said dejectedly.
"I'll be there to watch your back, Harry," Ginny said, smiling.
"Yeah, I know. Thanks," he replied. He looked around the common room. "Um, where's..."
The portrait hole opened, and someone fell through it.
"Neville!" Hermione cried. "What happened? Oh, locomotor reddere motus," she incanted hurriedly, noticing the odd, faint glow at his knees and ankles. The glow turned from purple to yellow before dissipating.
"Malfoy," Neville almost spat. "He wasn't alone, obviously. He said something about needing practice."
"That's believable enough," Hermione said. There was no venom in the statement, but everyone grinned.
Harry helped Neville to his feet, patted him on the back, and looked to his girlfriend. She smiled almost evilly, before nodding and setting off to find the twins.
"Sorry, mate, but we haven't got much in the way of stuff to cheer you up," Ron said dully.
"Ron, you haven't forgotten what George did to Fred already, have you?" Harry asked incredulously, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly.
"Nothing can make up for Snape refereeing your next Quidditch game, Harry," Ron replied.
Neville was speechless. For a while, he just stood staring at Harry with eyes wide in shock. "You don't think he'd be stupid enough to try something with other Professors there watching, do you?"
Harry and Ron looked at each other. It was clear from the look in their eyes exactly what they thought Snape to be capable of.
Friday morning started tense. Seamus and Dean offered the trio sympathetic grimaces as they slid out of bed. Even the warmth and comfort of the four poster bed he allowed in couldn't settle Harry.
The five friends steeled themselves as they walked towards the Great Hall. Just as with the previous day, they were met with stares, smirks and sneers. Neville and Hermione didn't allow their eyes to stray from the Gryffindor table, while the other three returned any harsh looks with challenging stares of their own. After staring down what felt like half the school, they finally were able to sit and eat in peace.
With a crash, something sent Harry's bacon and eggs flying. Half the Gryffindor table tracked the grey missile as it sent people's breakfasts everywhere. Two people groaned; two people blinked; Harry laughed uproariously.
"Errol!" Ron moaned.
Harry got up and retrieved the semi-conscious owl while trying to contain himself. He gave the owl to Ron to tend to, before tenderly opening his first correspondence from his new parents.
Dear Harry,I do hope that the three of you haven't been given too much trouble. If anyone does try to make trouble, just go to Professor McGonagall. It's not worth descending to their level.
You'll need to tell everyone that Professor Dumbledore dropped by over the holidays to erect new wards. At the moment, they only recognise members of the family, so please warn your friends about them before inviting them over. Arthur will be able to key people into the wards, so we'll just need to plan visits.
Now about this television set - I understand that your intentions were noble, Harry, but I want to be clear that this is a one-time thing. I don't want you spending your inheritance on us randomly. It isn't right.
Give everyone my love, and take good care of my daughter, young man!
Love,
Mum
Harry bit his lip nervously. He knew that Mrs Weasley hadn't been happy with the amount of money he'd been spending on them, but... If he was truly honest with himself, he just couldn't think of anything else he might be able to offer them for the love he'd been shown.
He sat down heavily, and didn't notice the familiar, soft warmth of Ginny's hand slipping into his. He did hear her gasp, though, as she caught his train of thought.
'Harry! How could you think something like that?'
'I...'
'Harry,' she sighed. 'Can you even begin to understand the significance of Mum letting you spend anything at all on us? Look at everyone. Now imagine if they knew you'd been spending money on us.'
Harry moved to interrupt, but her thoughts wrestled his into submission.
'She doesn't have a clue what it's like to grow up somewhere nobody wants you; none of us do. But she understands that you'll need time to adjust, and she's trying to help you adjust smoothly. To that end, she is willing to suffer the insult of accepting charity.'
The comment was harsh, and his cheeks burned from the impact. 'It was a gift! As much to me as any of you!' he shot back.
Ginny smiled slightly in sympathy. 'But that's not the way she sees it. Harry, you must understand. Mum and Dad have known you for a matter of weeks. That's ridiculously fast for an adoption. It's the way they are. They wouldn't turn anyone away. But the idea of accepting gifts like yours from someone they barely know is repugnant. They would never accept what you've given us even from Bill.'
'But, what am I supposed to do?' he replied, his anger draining.
'Would it be too much to ask that you love them in return?'
'But... it wouldn't be the same. They don't... don't...'
'Need it?' she suggested. At his hesitant nod, she gave him a brief hug. 'Harry, you're really sweet, but you're a complete idiot sometimes. You don't think it might make them happy to see you grow up, and to do well because of how they raised you? Why else does anyone have children?'
The tension evaporated like so much hot tea. But one pair of brown eyes scoured their faces hungrily for any detail that might be important. Harry smiled weakly, and began serving himself a new plate.
"So, I wanted to show you all something."
They had all gathered round in an abandoned classroom on the third floor. Their dorm room might have been more private, but Ginny probably spent too much time there already.
"I got this as a Christmas present," said Harry. "There was a note, but he didn't say who it was from, only that I should 'use it well'."
"Well, go on then," said Ron excitedly. "What is it?"
Instead of replying, Harry simply pulled out the invisibility cloak and draped it around his shoulders.
"Bloody hell!" Ron and Ginny chorused. Ginny had agreed to pretend that she hadn't seen it before so as to prevent hurting anyone's feelings.
"Harry, that's a…" Neville began.
"Invisibility cloak!" Ron exclaimed.
"Not so loud," Harry grinned.
"Harry, those are unbelievably rare," Ginny breathed.
"Who would have given you something like that?" Hermione asked, reaching out to touch his invisible arm.
"No idea," Harry admitted.
"Maybe one of your dad's old friends?" Neville suggested.
"Funny you should say that actually," said Harry. "The note also said that my dad left the cloak in the person's possession before he died."
"Sorry," Neville muttered.
"Don't worry about it," said Harry.
"Your dad was pretty popular though," said Ginny, contrite. "It could have been anybody."
"Not anybody," Neville said slowly. "It had to be someone he could trust — someone close to him."
"Someone with elaborate, loopy writing," Harry mused.
"Dumbledore?" said Hermione.
They all shared looks.
Ron began to laugh. "Imagine if it was," he chortled. "All the stuff we get up to, we can blame it on him."
Hermione glared at him, but the rest of them shared smirks. They all knew that the cloak would see a lot of use at Hogwarts.
"I've got an idea for a game," Harry said.
"What's that, then, Harry?" Katie asked, dismounting next to him.
"Yeah, let's hear it," George grinned.
"Unless it's just for the girls," Fred amended. Harry glared at him, but he just winked back.
Unclenching his teeth, Harry addressed Katie alone. "It."
"Flying tag," Katie grinned. Katie Bell was a half-blood, like himself, so she'd probably gone to muggle school.
"He calls that an idea?" Fred scoffed.
"Harry, we've been playing aerial tag..." said George.
"... Since we were six years old," Fred finished.
"Well, I haven't," Harry retorted. "Let's dance."
"Woah there, Harry," George said.
"Don't you think you've got us..."
"... At a disadvantage here?"
The twins gave his Nimbus a pointed look.
"Hey, Oliver?" Katie called.
Wood, who was already heading down to the Gryffindor changing rooms, turned and cocked an eyebrow. "Yeah?"
"Can we borrow your broom please?" she asked, smiling sweetly.
"What're you lot up to?" Wood sighed.
"We just want to play a game of tag without Harry destroying us with his incredible broomstick," Katie explained. Fred snorted loudly. "Oh, piss off you two, you're disgusting."
"Yeah, sure," Oliver said. "But Harry, you do any damage to that broom and I'll do the same to you. Twice."
"Um, cheers, Oliver," said Harry, imagining Oliver holding him down and scratching off his paintwork.
"Can we borrow your broom, please?" Fred mocked, doing an almost painful falsetto impression.
"Oi, it would've been fine like that if the two of you hadn't been there," Katie said. "He probably thought you wanted to jinx it or something."
"If we wanted to jinx Oliver's broom..."
"... We wouldn't have needed your help."
"Yeah, that's true enough," Katie agreed. "Now, are we going to play or what?"
"Hey," Ron called. Harry'd forgotten he was here.
"Here, Ron," Harry said, throwing him the Nimbus.
"You sure, Harry?" Fred grinned.
"You might not get the whole thing back," said George.
Ron just glared at Fred.
Sensing the rising tensions, Harry decided to move things along. "Well, he's never damaged the Nimbus before. Go on, Ron. You're it."
Harry breathed easy as they lay by the lake. Hermione had insisted that they bring their homework with them, but there was only one quill that had touched ink today. He grinned as Ginny hurled a piece of toast over the lake, and a long tentacle reached out to catch it and bring it back down below the rippling surface of the lake.
They were alone on the grounds. The snow had retreated slightly, but it was still devilishly cold, so Ginny was working to keep the area around them mild.
"...so ugly even the snow's running away from her!"
Harry frowned, looking around. Ron was playing chess against Neville, who seemed more interested in what Hermione was doing than the loss of his dark square bishop. Ginny was reading an encyclopaedia she'd bought in Exeter. She'd finished the one he'd bought for Dad in about an hour, and would probably know more about muggles than he did by the end of the day. His girlfriend was one fast reader.
"My, my, they're playing chess! Five sickles says the pieces are telling them what to do."
Harry massaged his temples, wondering why no-one else could hear them. Ginny sensed his discomfort, and looked up questioningly.
"Well, you were right, Draco. Money is the ultimate power. I can't see what else could keep that lot together."
"Influence, I would guess. The weak simply flock to him," Malfoy spat. "He's a symbol, you see."
Ginny's eyes narrowed, focused on something behind him.
"Did you see Rita Skeeter's article in the Prophet this morning, Draco?" Harry identified the other speaker as Pansy. Malfoy began sniggering, and he could hear Crabbe and Goyle guffawing in the background. "She asked the most pertinent of questions." She was unable to finish, as she had been overcome with giggles.
"Anyone read the Prophet this morning?" Harry asked nonchalantly. Ginny and Ron gave him confused looks, while Neville and Hermione's expressions became guilty.
"Can you hear what they're saying?" Ginny asked, bemused. At his nod, her eyebrows disappeared under her fringe.
"What who's..." Neville began, his voice cracking and turning painfully high. "Oh."
The group of Slytherins were still laughing hysterically; Malfoy was trying to repeat whatever Rita Skeeter's question had been.
"'I wonder, then, who will be supporting who?'" Hermione recited. "That was her last line, so I'm guessing that's what they're laughing about — considering how often they come to bother us, their memory spans can't be anything to boast about." Neville snorted. Harry and Ginny's annoyance faded, for the most part. But Ron still looked like he wanted to give the Slytherins a good kicking.
"You know, it really is extraordinary how much muggles know about wizards without having discovered magic," Ginny commented.
"You've hit Ares, I take it?" Hermione interjected.
"Yeah," replied Ginny.
"Do you actually know everything?" Ron asked. Upon realising he couldn't tell whether Ron was serious or not, Harry burst out laughing. "What?!"
Hermione smirked through her blush. "Here, Ginny. Can anything in these myths not be explained if you take the titans and gods to be wizards?"
"That's what I thought," Ginny agreed. "But why have I not read about any of these people in Wizarding books?"
Hermione shrugged. "Maybe nobody ever found these 'gods'' private records. But there's no way we'll find out here and now. We don't know enough magic to carry out a successful expedition to Greece."
"I wasn't thinking that far down the line," Ginny giggled, "but maybe we'll do that someday, Hermione."
"Oh, we have to!" Hermione enthused. "It's our duty."
Harry and Ginny grinned helplessly at each other.
"They're mine," Ron said in a low growl. Everyone blinked — Ron had been the only one paying any attention to the four Slytherins.
They were pitched twenty metres or so away, laughing themselves silly.
"Ron, if you hurt one of them, you'll get detention," Neville said.
"You might even get suspended," Hermione added.
"Then they'll just keep on laughing at you and what can you do about it?" Ginny asked.
"I need to do something!" Ron said angrily.
"Then you've already lost," said Ginny. "Fool's mate."
Ron glared at her, but the chess reference seemed to get through to him. "Yeah," he muttered.
"I crossed a line the other day," Harry said, scratching at his cheek. "I don't know what I actually did, but I lost control. And I was really lucky to get away with it. I don't think any of us will be that lucky next time."
"Harry's right," Ginny admitted. When eyebrows lifted, she adopted a sardonic expression. "Just because I dish it out doesn't mean I enjoy it." The eyebrows stayed up. "Okay, fine," she huffed. "Blame me for trying to make a point, why don't you? I'm serious, though. Striking first is a line we don't want to be crossing too often."
"Says the girl who came this close to shaking our train carriage to bits," Neville smirked.
"Ugh," said Ginny. "What is this? All on Ginny day?"
"It'd certainly be one on Ginny day if we let you," Hermione muttered.
Harry blinked, his complexion reacting faster than his mind. He turned to stare at Hermione, needing some kind of confirmation that she had said what he'd just heard. The blush she was attempting to hide behind her Potions text provided it.
"Hey!" said Ginny. "You're supposed to be the 'good influence'!"
Hermione's face shone still brighter as she mumbled something else under her breath.
"I'm sorry," Ginny asked, her eyes narrowing, "what was that?"
But Harry had heard.
"Which influence is Harry, then?" Hermione repeated a little louder, before bolting with Ginny hot on her heels.
Harry tried several different positions, incapable of getting comfortable in the chair while still being able to use his quill. Eventually, he gave up, and just lay on his stomach on the floor by the fire.
Dear Mum and Dad,Don't worry, we haven't started anything. It hasn't been too bad. For me, I don't think anything much has changed.
Ginny sniggered a little to the side. Harry grinned up at the place where she'd materialised.
"Tuesday doesn't count," he explained. "All the crap Malfoy comes up with must at least balance us out."
"Us?" Ginny asked innocently. "What have I done?"
Harry looked her in the eyes, but she kept her expression resolutely neutral. "I give up," he said. While fumbling around in his pockets trying to find Mum's letter, he finished, "For now..." in an undertone.
Classes are getting generally easier all the time, but we do have an unfair advantage through Hermione. Ginny"Hey!" said Harry. Ginny had telekinetically ripped the quill right out of his hand, making it fly over to her where she lay on her side, watching him.
"Parchment, please," she asked casually.
Grumbling, he passed it over, and she finished the letter herself.
"Done," she said.
"Why couldn't I finish it?" Harry griped.
Ginny shrugged. "I wasn't going to let you write about how amazing my last bit of magic was." At his look of protest, she went on, "You were going to. It doesn't feel right, Harry."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that I don't have any special talent. Anyone can do what I do," she replied flatly.
"Hey, don't be like that," Harry replied. "If it was easy, you wouldn't be the first."
"And isn't that the depressing thing?" she interrupted. "That..."
"No, Ginny," Harry stopped her. "You and I both know it's not that simple. You aren't the first to do Accidental Magic. You're the first to Accidentally Apparate, and you understand why."
"Actually, I'm not."
Harry stared at her. "What?"
"Didn't I tell you?" she smirked. "You've done it."
"Okay, now you're just taking the..." Harry's memory jolted, and he ground to a halt.
They were catching him. He didn't know how, he was usually much faster than them. If they were catching him, they wouldn't get bored. If they didn't get bored, they wouldn't leave him alone. If they didn't leave him alone, he'd be healing up in his cupboard for a few days.
They rounded the corner of the school building, and the giant bins outside the kitchens loomed ahead of him. If he could just vault them, he could delay them enough to find a good place to hide inside.
Disregarding the heaviness in his legs, Harry charged past the bins with renewed vigour. As he began to pull away though, he allowed himself to weaken so that his pursuers would close the gap.
Harry could feel their feet pounding the gravel. Their laboured breathing was in his ears, echoing in his head and pouring ice water down his spine.
He cut back. Gordon's arm flung out to tear at his shirt. Spinning, Harry watched it sail past his nose, and sprinted to the bins. Piers snarled something at him, but he kept going, leaping upwards... His stitch seemed to seize up unnaturally, and his whole body was squeezed in spasm.
He was on top of the building. Dudley and his gang were down by the bins, staring incredulously up at him. He couldn't remember flying across onto the roof, but there he was, holding desperately onto a chimney while they went to tattle on him. Never in his life had he felt so exhausted...
"No way," Harry breathed.
Ginny beamed at him. "See? Not special."
"You do it at will," Harry pointed out.
"So could you, if you worked at it," said Ginny.
"You didn't have to," Harry grinned. "Imagine what you can do."
"But it just doesn't make sense," Ginny groaned.
"You mean it doesn't make sense that you were the one to get this power? That's a load of crap. Wasn't it you that said Weasley girls always have some special ability?"
"But it wasn't me that made me this way," Ginny despaired.
Harry noted how the conversation had changed, and put his arms gently around her. The way she relaxed into his embrace was reassuring, and he smiled despite himself. "So? No one makes that choice, not really. You didn't wake up on your fifth birthday to a form asking you 'please tick here for amazing powers of control over magic'."
"No, I woke up to Fred and George and an innocent looking package," she answered, the remaining tension in her body leaving her.
"Do I want to know?"
"No. No you don't."
Harry grinned, letting out a breath through his nose as he felt Ginny laughing in his arms.
"This is how you feel, isn't it?" she asked. "About your scar."
Harry looked into her warm brown eyes. "Yeah, it is. Difference is, that happened, and it's done. You've been given something you can use."
She stared into the fire. The Gryffindor red carpet was made bright yellow by the force of the flames as the fire began to roar. Harry stroked her back gently, assuming she was venting her feelings. But the fire didn't stop growing. The flames were licking the mantelpiece, and Harry could feel the heat from where they stood halfway across the room. He was starting to sweat. The flames disappeared. The logs weren't even smouldering — it was as if the fire had died hours ago. Ginny on the other hand, was suddenly hyper. She grinned at him.
"Something I can use," she said. "Yeah, I like it."
Harry could only stare as the carpet ruptured to admit a sapling.
"I can make things grow."
The sapling was soon a small tree, maybe as tall as Ron. As Ginny stared at it, her expression changed; her happiness faded away to leave something dark and unreadable.
"Or wilt and die."
Suddenly, the entire tree combusted in a bright flash of light. Yet the fire did not spread, and Harry felt no heat. The remains of the tree disappeared. The carpet repaired itself. No one would ever know what had just happened.
Harry stared at the completely normal, unassuming patch of red carpet.
"Now I know why the muggles hunted us," said Ginny. She collapsed into his arms with a sigh, fast asleep or passed out, Harry didn't know. He laid her down gently on the sofa, his mind racing.
He reached out to one of the logs in the large basket by the fireplace. Even though he was a good five metres away, he imagined he could feel the ridges and bumps on its surface. Gritting his teeth, he tried the first proper charm he'd been taught. Wingardium Leviosa. It twitched, and he stared at it. The log rolled slightly, and one end drifted upwards by maybe a centimetre. Straining with muscles he didn't have, Harry wrenched upwards. The log fell back onto the pile.
Harry was breathing heavily, completely exhausted by his efforts. But maybe Ginny was right. Maybe they all had her ability to shape the world to their desire. She was just way better at it. He put his school robe over her, and went to sit in a nearby armchair. 'Now I know why the muggles hunted us.' Her words ushered him to sleep - to fitful dreams where they didn't, or couldn't, stop running.