The day of Bill's departure was a tearful one. At least, Ginny and their mother seemed more than reluctant to let him run off back to Egypt.
"When am I going to see you again?" Ginny had sobbed, clinging to him as he tried to get through the front door.
Bill sighed, wrapping her in about the four hundredth embrace of the morning. "I don't know, Firefly. But we'll keep writing each other, okay?"
Ginny sniffed. "Okay..."
Bill had turned to go when a wind began to rise. The door swung fully open, and Bill's robe billowed out behind him. He gave Ginny a tired smile, realising as Harry had that Ginny was losing her grip on her magic. So Harry offered her a grip on his hand.
When Ginny turned her reddened eyes on him, Harry felt something twinge inside. But he also felt the hurricane of emotions within her slowly abating. When they finally broke eye contact, Bill was gone.
Mrs Weasley was quietly sniffling into her husband's shoulder. That was when her attitude towards Bill, and his reactions, began to add up in Harry's head. She had fussed over him so much because he was the first to fly the nest. Bill was an old wound that had never quite healed, for Mrs Weasley couldn't deal with the fact that he didn't need her anymore.
Harry had mulled this over for a while, wondering how things would be between himself and Mrs Weasley as he grew older. Perhaps she would get used to the idea as more of her children grew up. Somehow, Harry doubted it.
Now, as they prepared to Floo travel to Diagon Alley the following day, Harry found himself staring at Ginny. It was hardly the first time. Today, however, he was not thinking about her laughter or the touch of her lips, but of how they might be in ten years' time. Ginny loved the Burrow. She loved the trees and the hills and the river. She loved her family most of all, but Harry knew that she would never be tied down. And wherever she went, he too would go.
"Diagon Alley."
Mr. Weasley disappeared in a flash of green flame.
Harry stepped forward, throwing down his own pinch of Floo powder. "Diagon Alley!"
Floo travel wasn't as bad as taking a Portkey, Harry admitted to himself as he hurtled through the inferno. He desperately held his body in a mummy-like posture, for fear of an elbow catching on one of the countless fireplaces rushing past and being torn right off. At least there were no ghosts in the Floo network.
His face hit the Leaky Cauldron's hearth rug with a muffled thud, and Harry suddenly remembered that the Floo was a million times worse than Portkeys.
Standing with a grunt, Harry heard the sound of Hermione giggling at him, which added a further dent to his pride. "Yeah, yeah, I still remember how slick you were on a broomstick."
Hermione huffed and turned away, a hint of pink creeping into her cheeks. It appeared that her memory was just as good. Her mother, on the other hand, seemed not to have been clued in to this particular part of her daughter's school life, as her eyes veritably lit up.
Of course, when Ginny came through next she landed with all the grace of a ballet dancer. She only gave him a modest shrug and a smirk. She first gave Hermione an exuberant hug, then walked up to Harry and brushed the ash off his face, hair and clothes.
"Next time I am definitely going first," she grinned.
"So you can point and laugh too?"
Ginny pouted at him. "So I can catch you, like a good, caring girlfriend."
Harry continued to stare at her.
"There may be some laughing involved," Ginny admitted with a sigh. "You just have to look for the worst, Harry. Ach! Stop it! Eek!"
Harry continued to tickle her until Mr. Weasley quietly told them to stop making a disturbance. They seemed to be in a side-room of the wizard pub. Harry could just make out the bar through the doorway, where old Tom was still there in the same clothes Harry remembered from his last visit to the alley with Hagrid. Encircled in Harry's arms, Ginny stuck her tongue out at him.
'I'm so going to get you,' Ginny smirked, panting slightly.
'When I least expect it?' said Harry.
Ginny didn't bother replying, only pulling him down with a firm tug on his hair and kissing him soundly.
'Fair enough,' Harry shrugged, smiling to himself.
"Hey everyone," said Neville.
"Hi Nev," Ron grinned, lightly dusted with ash from his own landing. While he was not nearly as graceful as Ginny, Harry regarded Ron's ability to stay relatively upright with some envy.
"Looks like we've got the team back together," said Fred.
"They'll be quaking in their boots down in Knockturn," George agreed.
"For the umpteenth time, boys, you are not going to Knockturn Alley," Mrs Weasley sighed, landing cleanly on two feet. She didn't so much as wobble.
Reading into his mood, Ginny giggled at him. "Lots and lots of practise..."
"Is your grandmother here, Neville?" said Mr. Weasley.
"No, she said I could Floo straight here so long as I stayed with everyone," said Neville.
Harry noted the excitement in his eyes, the slight quiver in his voice and the tension in his hands. This was his first time out without family.
"Alistair's at the bar, making a fool of himself," Mrs Granger said fondly. "Jumped at the opportunity to see some more magic."
Mrs Weasley gave her own husband a shifty little smile, which he pointedly ignored. "I see... Well, now that we're all here, shall we?"
"Not all," Ginny muttered, smiling mischievously.
"What have you done?" said Harry.
"You don't think I was going to get my wand without my best friend there, did you?" Ginny said, eyebrow raised.
"I will be there," Harry grinned.
"Oh Harry, you're a lot more than a best friend," Ginny smirked.
"Hermione?" said Harry, as they were shepherded out into the pub.
"Okay, other best friend," Ginny amended.
"The army is here."
Harry looked up to find Luna Lovegood standing in the doorway to the alley. Her father was just behind her, beaming at them all.
From her exuberance, you would have thought Ginny had been separated from Luna for weeks rather than days. Luna, on the other hand, maintained her usual expression, like she had just seen a mildly interesting cloud or shadow, even when Ginny glomped her.
"Good morning, Xeno," Mr. Weasley smiled.
Mr. Lovegood shook Mr. Weasley's hand quite thoroughly. "And to you my good man."
"What army?" said Neville quietly.
Ron snorted. "Probably an army of gibbering bobbers."
Ginny was practically bouncing as they made their way down the alley, but their parents wouldn't hear of her pleas to go straight to the wand shop. Their first port of call was Gringotts bank.
Mr. Weasley went in alone to withdraw funds for the shopping trip, leaving them outside to contend with a near-salivating Ginny, and a rather excited pair in Hermione and Mrs Weasley. The source of their excitement had drawn a long line of middle-aged women that stretched outside and beyond Flourish and Blotts down to Quality Quidditch Supplies. A man called Gilderoy Lockhart was doing book signings from 12:30 to 16:30, as proclaimed by an enormous banner over the shop's upper floors. According to Hermione, this was interesting because the man had written half the books on their Hogwarts list of required texts for the coming year. If you asked Mrs Weasley, he was a renowned hero of the wizard world who had achieved a great many impressive accomplishments at a young age. Fred and George had just disgustedly pointed at the copy of Witch Weekly Mrs Weasley had been reading at the time. On the front cover was a blond man grinning and winking as the headline declared him the winner of its Most Charming Smile Award for the fifth year running. Looking at the nature of the crowd, and Mrs Weasley and Hermione's flushed faces, Harry had to agree with the twins.
"I take it this Lockhart fellow's a looker, then?" Mrs Granger smirked.
"I - I'm sorry?" Mrs Weasley said.
Mr. Granger coughed delicately, and Hermione turned a deeper shade of pink.
"I don't see any men in that line," Hermione's mother continued in a conspiratorial whisper.
Ginny grinned at Harry, watching her mother flounder. Luna's dad was taking great interest in a cloud, though Harry couldn't be sure whether it was put on or not considering his experience with the man and his daughter.
"Well, he... That is to say..."
Mrs Weasley was saved by her husband arriving with the money, at which point she ensured they all hurried along to get their supplies.
Percy headed off, rather reluctantly, with the twins. Ginny grabbed Hermione and Luna and headed off somewhere else while the parents managed to stick together in their own group, to Mrs Granger's delight and Mrs Weasley's despair. Harry, Ron and Neville headed straight for Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, where Harry got them all strawberry and peanut butter ice creams. Meanwhile, the queue at the bookshop was only getting longer.
"I don't get it," Ron said. "He looks like a right bloody tosser."
Harry and Neville sniggered appreciatively.
"Seriously, he barely even looks like a bloke!" Ron laughed. "Bet he could give Lavender lessons on makeup."
By the time they finished their ice creams, the girls arrived, dumping a bag each on their table and dumping themselves into the remaining chairs.
"Trust you not to have done anything yet," said Hermione, rolling her eyes.
"Neville said he was hungry," said Ron.
"Hey, this was your idea!" Neville gaped.
"Come on Ron, let's go find some new robes," said Ginny.
Ron wrinkled his nose. "I don't need new robes."
"You going to tell Mum that?" Ginny said with a raised eyebrow.
"Ugh, fine," Ron muttered.
With that, they headed off to find their mother and presumably a second hand clothing store, while the rest of them looked to Madam Malkin's. Harry sincerely hoped he wouldn't run into Malfoy again in the place.
Luckily, they only found a couple of older students being fitted in the schoolwear section. Harry turned to one of the assistants taking the students' measurements. "Excuse me, sorry, I was wondering if any schools other than Hogwarts came here for uniforms?"
The girl frowned slightly. "Um... I don't think so. City of London let us get our own robes as long as they were dark grey or black."
"I think the other ones would be outside London if they had a deal with a store," the other girl shrugged. "The Queen Maeve Institute sure as hell won't have links in England."
That was when the first girl put two and two together and looked to Harry's forehead. She opened her mouth to say something, but at Harry's sigh she blushed and shut it again.
"You're finished," the second girl said brightly to the boy she had been taking measurements of.
"But I'm too young to die!" the Ravenclaw exclaimed.
"Go on, before you get jinxed," his friend laughed.
"Who's first then?" the girl smiled.
After Madam Malkin's, Harry, Ron and Ginny tried to get a look in at Quality Quidditch Supplies, but the queue for Lockhart's book signing was becoming more of a throng, and they allowed themselves to be dragged on by. They next visited the quill shop to humour Hermione. She spent the better part of ten minutes puttering about while the rest of them stood in a corner talking. Or rather, four of them were talking and laughing. Luna just looked at them all curiously.
In Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop, they found Fred and George stocking up on Dr. Filibuster's Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks, while Percy stood off to the side with a book called The Trials of Wizarding Government.
Ron made a face at the book. "How'd you find something like that in here?"
"I looked in my pocket," said Percy. "I hope some of you plan to spend your allowance on something sensible."
"Oi, you know George doesn't like that word!" said George.
Harry soon found himself perusing the shelves in search of something special for his favourite Slytherin. Nothing quite took his fancy though. He supposed that with Draco Malfoy, he rather enjoyed the personal touch.
When everyone finally regrouped for the Flourish and Blotts episode of their trip, the queue outside the bookstore was frankly rather ridiculous. The shopkeeper or assistant, Harry couldn't remember, was standing at the door looking rather harried as he tried to keep order. They joined the parents in the line, squeezing stealthily through the door, and found that the entire ground floor had been taken over by middle aged witches.
By this point, Mr. Weasley had a rather resigned look on his face. Mr. Granger suggested that the fathers present head back up to the pub for a pint, and Mr. Weasley looked to be considering the idea. However, just then, they reached a point in the queue where they could see the man himself, sitting at a table signing away and surrounded by large pictures of himself, all winking and flashing dazzlingly white teeth at the crowd. The real Lockhart was wearing robes of forget-me-not blue that exactly matched his eyes; his pointed wizard's hat was set at a jaunty angle on his wavy hair. He said something to the woman he was signing his autobiography for with a winning sort of smile, and Harry could have sworn she almost swooned. Ginny just rolled her eyes and sighed heavily. Mrs Weasley, on the other hand, looked even more flustered than before and kept patting her hair.
A short, irritable-looking man was dancing around taking photographs with a large black camera that emitted puffs of purple smoke with every blinding flash.
"Out of the way, there," he snarled at Ron, moving back to get a better shot. "This is for the Daily Prophet!"
"Big deal," said Ron, rubbing his foot where the photographer had stepped on it.
Gilderoy Lockhart heard him. He looked up. He saw Ron. Then he saw Harry. He stared. Then he leapt to his feet and positively shouted, "It can't be Harry Potter?"
"Bollocks," Harry muttered.
Ginny stifled a giggle.
The crowd parted, whispering excitedly; Lockhart dived forward, seized Harry's arm, and pulled him to the front. The crowd burst into applause. Harry's face burned as Lockhart shook his hand for the photographer, who was clicking away madly, wafting thick smoke over the Weasleys.
"Nice big smile, Harry," said Lockhart, through his own gleaming teeth. "Together, you and I are worth the front page."
When he finally let go of Harry's hand, Harry could hardly feel his fingers. He tried to sidle back over to the Weasleys, but Lockhart threw an arm around his shoulders and clamped him tightly to his side. Harry's 'friends', of course, were laughing themselves silly.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he said loudly, waving for quiet. "What an extraordinary moment this is! The perfect moment for me to make a little announcement I've been sitting on for some time!
"When young Harry here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, he only wanted to buy my autobiography – which I shall be happy to present him now, free of charge..."
The crowd applauded again. Harry was considering how much trouble he'd get into for stamping on the man's foot.
"He had no idea," Lockhart continued, giving Harry a little shake that made his glasses slip to the end of his nose, "that he would shortly be getting much, much more than my book, Magical Me. He and his 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 cheered and clapped and Harry found himself being presented with the entire works of Gilderoy Lockhart. Grimacing slightly at the strain on his forearms, he managed to make his way out of the limelight to the edge of the room, where Ginny was standing next to her new cauldron.
"You have these," Harry sighed, tipping the books into the cauldron. "I'll buy my own."
"Yeah?" Ginny smirked. "And-"
"Bet you loved that, didn't you, Potter?" said a voice Harry had no trouble recognizing.
He straightened up and found himself face-to-face with Draco Malfoy, who was wearing his usual sneer.
"Famous Harry Potter," said Malfoy. "Can't even go into a bookshop without making the front page."
"So?" Harry said, frowning in confusion. Sure it was embarrassing, but it didn't quite have the sting of Malfoy's usual barbs.
"Don't tell me that's the best you could come up with in two months, Malfoy," said Ginny. "The Sorting Hat must be going senile to have thought that you have any cunning."
"I was attempting to be sociable you little harlot," Malfoy said. Harry was about ready to take his sneering head off, but for some reason Ginny seemed perfectly calm. "Though it appears your depravities have left you quite incapable."
Arriving with a lot of bustle and noise, Ron, Hermione and Neville blinked at the sight of Malfoy. Luna did so as well, though she'd seemed to float over more than anything else.
"Oh, it's you," said Ron, looking at Malfoy as if he were something unpleasant on the sole of his shoe. "Bet you're surprised to see Harry here, eh?"
"Not as surprised as I am to see you in a shop, Weasley," retorted Malfoy. "I suppose your parents will go hungry for a month to pay for all those."
Ron went as red as his hair. He dropped his books into the cauldron, too, and started toward Malfoy, but Neville and Hermione grabbed the back of his jacket.
"Ah, but I-" Malfoy began with a triumphant smirk.
"Ron!" said Mr. Weasley, struggling over with Fred and George. "What are you doing? It's too crowded in here, let's go outside."
"Well, well, well. Arthur Weasley."
It was Mr. Malfoy. He stood with his hand on Draco's shoulder, sneering in just the same way.
"Lucius," said Mr. Weasley, nodding coldly.
"Busy time at the Ministry, I hear," said Mr. Malfoy. "All those raids... I hope they're paying you overtime?"
He reached into Ginny's cauldron and extracted, from amid the glossy Lockhart books, a very old, very battered copy of A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration.
"Obviously not," Mr. Malfoy said. "Dear me, what's the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don't even pay you well for it?"
Mr. Weasley flushed with palpable rage.
"We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy," he said.
"Clearly," said Mr. Malfoy, his pale eyes straying to the Grangers, who were watching apprehensively, and Mr. Lovegood, who was examining a display. "The company you keep, Weasley... and I thought your family could sink no lower."
There was a thud of metal as Ginny's cauldron went flying; Mr. Weasley had thrown himself at Mr. Malfoy, knocking him backward into a bookshelf. Dozens of heavy spellbooks came thundering down on all their heads.
There was a yell of, "Get him, Dad!" from Fred or George.
Mrs Weasley was shrieking, "No, Arthur, no!"
The crowd stampeded backward, knocking more shelves over.
"Gentlemen, please... please!" cried the assistant, and then, louder than all...
"Break it up, there, gents, break it up..."
Hagrid was wading toward them through the sea of books. In an instant he had pulled Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy apart.
Mr. Weasley had a cut lip and Mr. Malfoy had been hit in the eye by an Encyclopaedia of Toadstools. He was still holding Ginny's old Transfiguration book. He thrust it at her, his eyes glittering with malice.
"Here, girl, take your book. It's the best your father can give you."
Ginny glared back, and Harry wondered for a moment if she was going to clobber him around the head with it. Pulling himself out of Hagrid's grip, Mr. Malfoy beckoned to Draco and swept from the shop.
"Yeh should've ignored him, Arthur," said Hagrid, almost lifting Mr. Weasley off his feet as he straightened his robes. "Rotten ter the core, the whole family, everyone knows that. No Malfoy's worth listenin' ter – bad blood, that's what it is. Come on now, let's get outta here."
The assistant looked as though he wanted to stop them from leaving, but he barely came up to Hagrid's waist and seemed to think better of it. They hurried up the street, the Grangers wide-eyed with fright and Mrs Weasley beside herself with fury.
"A fine example to set for your children... brawling in public... what Gilderoy Lockhart must've thought –"
Ginny, for her part, seemed to get even more annoyed. 'Doesn't she care what that arsehole was saying? Who cares what the prick thought?'
Harry thought it best not to reply.
"He was pleased," said Fred. "Didn't you hear him as we were leaving? He was asking that bloke from the Daily Prophet if he'd be able to work the fight into his report, said it was all publicity."
"Here, Hagrid," said Harry. "What are you doing in Diagon Alley?"
"Keepin' the peace, 'pparently," said Hagrid. "Was lookin' fer some flesh-eatin' slug repellent, actually. They're ruinin' the school cabbages."
"Why would a flesh-eating slug be eating cabbages?" Harry wondered aloud.
"It's ah..." Hagrid said quietly, his lips twitching. "It's not what goes in tha's the problem 'ere, 'Arry."
Ginny snorted with laughter.
"Anyway, thank you for your help, Hagrid," said Mrs Weasley, as they reached Ollivanders.
"Anytime, Molly," said Hagrid. "Jus' glad I was around. I'll see you lot at 'Ogwarts then."
They said their goodbyes to Hagrid, and he strode off away down the street, the crowds parting hurriedly to allow his massive frame through.
Ollivanders Wand Shop was exactly the same as Harry remembered it from his first visit. It lacked the impact of the other stores, without the impressive size of Flourish and Blotts, the colour and noise of Gambol and Japes, or the bright elegance of Madam Malkin's. The golden lettering above the storefront looked to have peeled further since the last time Harry was here. Perhaps Mr. Ollivander didn't have time to fix it. He certainly didn't seem to have anyone else working in the shop.
Now that Harry thought about it, the store name suggested a family company. Mr. Ollivander was an old man... Who took over when he was done?
Lost in his wondering, Harry hadn't noticed that they were now in the shop, and jumped when Mr. Ollivander appeared, just the same as his first encounter with the man.
"Ginevra Weasley..." he said. "Tales of your exploits have reached even my ears."
Ginny turned bright red.
"And you too have your mother's eyes," Ollivander went on, smiling slightly at Mrs Weasley, who gave him a warm smile in return.
"It has been a long time, Mr. Ollivander," said Mrs Weasley.
Mr. Granger was staring around at the packed shelves like a little boy in a sweetshop, while his wife and daughter stifled giggles.
"Thirty-one years, almost to the day," said Mr. Ollivander. "I never forget a wand I've sold, Molly Prewett. Ten inches of ash, pliable, and a most devoted wand. A unicorn tail hair from a most beautiful young mare, one of the sweetest specimens I ever encountered. She gave me nearly twenty hairs that day."
"It's served me well," Mrs Weasley said.
"Indeed," said Mr. Ollivander. It was clear he expected no different.
Harry could feel the ambient magic of the place making his hair stand on end. It was a funny thing, since Hogwarts was supposed to be incredibly intense in terms of its magical field, and nothing like this ever happened there... Perhaps it was all the wands. They were supposed to focus magic, after all.
"Now young lady, which is your wand arm?" Mr. Ollivander said, pulling the same silvered tape measure out of his pocket that Harry remembered from his own visit.
"My right, sir," Ginny replied courteously.
"Just hold out your arm for me, that's right..."
The tape measure then began flittering around Ginny by itself, while Mr. Ollivander started taking down wands from the shelves.
"Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Miss Weasley. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand.
"That will do," said Mr. Ollivander, and the tape measure collapsed. "Now... Try this one, Miss Weasley. Willow and phoenix feather, ten and a quarter inches, nice and springy."
Ginny half-summoned the wand from Mr. Ollivander's hand as she reached for it. The old man's eyes almost lit up, but he said nothing of it. Ginny had just begun to twirl it when he took it back.
"No, no. Apple and unicorn hair, eleven inches, flexible."
As with Harry's own choosing, Ginny seemed to try half the wands in the shop. To be fair to Mr. Ollivander, there must have been a few thousand wands just on shelves on the shop floor, but about ten minutes later Harry was sure there were about a hundred boxes piled high upon the spindly chair, abandoned. And just like when Harry had gotten his wand, this seemed to please the wandmaker no end.
"I always find a perfect match, Miss Weasley," said Mr. Ollivander, elated, as he put away an eleven inch chestnut and unicorn hair piece, which was apparently particularly 'whippy'. "Mahogany and phoenix tail feather, twelve inches. Swishy."
This wand, which was slightly more slender than most of the others, actually trembled in Ginny's hand. Ginny gave it an apologetic look.
As another ten wands joined the reject pile, Mr. Ollivander acquired a contemplative look. "Perhaps... Hmm."
He hurried into the back of the shop, leaving them to stare at each other, bewildered. The poor little chair probably hadn't suffered so much since Hagrid sat on it last year.
"An experimental piece..." Mr. Ollivander muttered as he walked back in. "Didn't believe I would find a partner... Thicker than I usually make, but still reasonably flexible. Twelve and a quarter inches of ebony, containing both a unicorn tail hair and a heartstring from a Chinese Fireball dragon, entwined together."
"Two cores," Mr. Weasley muttered.
"It was not easy," Mr. Ollivander admitted. "But try it, Miss Weasley."
When Ginny picked this wand up, the reaction was immediate. Even as her fingers slipped into the shallow, helical grooves in the grip, there was a pulse of warmth, and aether condensed out of the very air at the wand's tip. There was a sound like all the air was rushing out of the room. Slowly, Ginny began to smile, her eyes glowing like torches, until she was grinning ferally at the light storm erupting from the wand.
"Woah..." said Neville in a strangled whisper.
People had stopped outside the shop now to stare at the spectacle, which was showing no sign of ending any time soon. Ginny waved the wand delicately, and the aether faded away, along with the glow in her eyes.
"Wonderful!" Mr. Ollivander cried. "Marvelously done, Miss Weasley. My word…"
"Ah," said Mr. Weasley, noticing the large crowd outside.
The onlookers started to move on when they noted that the show was over, but they had definitely noted who was responsible. Ginny grinned at Harry, having reached the same conclusion.
Mr. Ollivander wrapped the wand up and put it in its box, taking seven galleons for the purchase, just as with Harry's. Perhaps it was a standard charge. Either way, Ginny was glowing (not literally, this time at least) with happiness as she took the box from him, an almost reverent look in her eyes.
"And Luna Lovegood," said Mr. Ollivander, turning to her. "I was very sorry to hear about your mother…"
"Thank you Mr. Ollivander," said Luna. "I do miss her quite terribly, but it's okay, really. Would you tell me about her wand?"
Mrs Weasley sniffed quietly. Ginny bit her lip, and reached out to squeeze Luna's hand.
"Of course, of course," said Mr. Ollivander. "Pandora was quite an energetic young lady, you know. When she first came in here, she badgered me endlessly about wandmaking, and when we finally found a match, she wanted to know everything about the particular components and how it might behave... Ten and a half inches, sycamore and phoenix feather, delightfully springy. It was an elegant thing, and wonderful for charmwork. I presume it…?"
"Burst into flames?" Mr. Lovegood said absently. "Yes, yes it did."
"But yours, Xenophilius, seems in perfectly good shape to me," Mr. Ollivander said softly, as if wary of the awkwardness that had pervaded the room. However, both Luna and her father were smiling.
"Yes, it has been an excellent companion, I must thank you again," said Mr. Lovegood.
Mr. Ollivander smiled gently, his pale grey eyes shining. "Not at all. It is my duty to find the right partner for each of my creations. Thirteen and a half inches, grapevine and unicorn tail hair, very swishy."
"That it is, Mr. Ollivander," said Mr. Lovegood, bowing slightly.
"And how is the Quibbler doing?" Mr. Ollivander asked.
There were a couple of suppressed sighs, but the Lovegoods either didn't notice or paid it no mind. Harry did then notice Luna drawing herself up slightly though, and considered that they were probably ignoring it.
"Very well, thank you," said Mr. Lovegood. "We just ran a very successful issue featuring an article on the Blibbering Humdinger."
Mr. Ollivander took this in stride, but the same couldn't be said of Ron. Ron only stifled his laughter through Ginny's hand over his mouth and her heel on his toes.
"I'm glad to hear it," said Mr. Ollivander. "Now Miss Lovegood, which is your wand arm?"
Luna didn't go through quite as many wands as Ginny, or even Harry had. On precisely her twenty-first try, she produced brilliant white sparks in a cascading shower. It was a rather less spectacular event than Ginny's, but Luna seemed completely content.
"A silver lime wand, interesting..." said Mr. Ollivander. "And do you know what is contained within your wand, Miss Lovegood?"
"That would be for you to tell me, Mr. Ollivander," said Luna.
"Indeed," Mr. Ollivander smiled. Harry rather felt as though there was some joke he wasn't privy to. "A ten and a half inch wand of silver lime, with a core of unicorn tail hair. May you see many great and wondrous things together."
"I am sure we will, Mr. Ollivander, thank you," said Luna, handing back the wand for packing.
Ginny was veritably buzzing about the wand as they made their way home, distracted through her farewells and almost losing her balance on her way out of the Floo. Mrs Weasley wanted to keep hold of it until school started but Ginny was having none of it.
"Please, Mum!" she whined. "I'm not going to use it. I don't need to."
"Why do you want it then?" Mrs Weasley sighed, exasperated.
"I don't know," Ginny muttered. "It's my wand, I just..."
Mrs Weasley huffed. "If I see you casting a single spell with this..."
"Thanks Mum!" Ginny gushed, taking the hesitantly offered wand and sprinting up to her room.
"There'll be a shrine in there by morning," Mr. Weasley sighed.
Harry took a moment to put away his new books and equipment before joining Ginny in her room. She was kneeling at her bed, wand in hand, the empty box sitting atop the duvet. Staring at the instrument, Ginny was slowly twirling it in her fingers. It was as if she wanted to commit every last detail to memory.
Deciding it probably qualified as a private moment, Harry had just turned to leave when he felt her hand on his arm.
"Please..." Ginny muttered. "Don't go."
So Harry sat next to her as she continued. It was a beautiful thing compared to his own, and Harry had always thought his wand to be a finely crafted piece. Ginny's had runes etched along its length in spiral pattern, with what looked like gold inlays. As Ginny turned the wand, the gold shone with a light that was not coming from the window.
"I never heard of a wand with two cores before..." Ginny whispered.
Harry almost asked why she was whispering, but thought better of it. "It's very beautiful," he whispered back.
Ginny nodded. "All these runes must be to keep it stable or something."
"Try not to accidentally kill anyone this year," said Harry.
"What?" Ginny hissed.
"You were more powerful than most last year," Harry shrugged. "With a wand..."
Ginny stared at him. Then she stared at the wand. Slowly, carefully, she eased it back into its case.
"I've got a bad feeling about this Lockhart guy," said Harry.
Rolling her eyes, Ginny offered him a grin. "Tell me about it. I never thought anyone took him seriously at all, I mean there's a bunch of inconsistencies in his books so that he'd have to be in two places at once..."
"But he does have an Order of Merlin and a Dark Force Defence Club membership," Harry recalled from the back of his 'textbooks'. They seemed more like novels.
"Defence League," Ginny corrected. "And that doesn't mean anything. I mean, they don't go out and hunt Dark Wizards or anything. As far as I know they just have tea and swap war stories."
Harry smirked. "Maybe we should start our own club."
"I think we already have," said Ginny, smiling wistfully. "Anyway, a third class Order of Merlin award doesn't mean anything. Real war heroes like your parents get first class usually."
That got a pleased little grin out of Harry, who started twiddling his thumbs absently.
"People who contribute to society or our understanding of magic get second class. The third class..." Ginny rolled her eyes. "They probably gave it to him so all the besotted women wouldn't start a riot."
"He does have quite a few fans," said Harry.
"So what?" Ginny huffed. "Plenty of absolute pricks were popular."
"Okay come on," Harry sighed. "What's he done to piss you off?"
Ginny growled slightly. It was rather cute, really, but Harry didn't think it wise to tell her that. "Why is Mum so bloody fascinated by him?"
Harry had noticed the name of Gilderoy Lockhart dropped once or twice in the whole time he'd been with the Weasleys. The whole time up until they'd received their Hogwarts letters, at least. The moment Mrs Weasley had seen their booklist it was like a dam had broken. Everything was Lockhart this and Lockhart that. Harry was really just surprised that Malfoy was the man that Mr. Weasley had chosen to sock in the jaw. Looking over at Ginny's beautiful face, twisted in anger and consternation, Harry wasn't sure how he'd react if she started going on about some other guy.
"I mean, I wouldn't care... didn't care... until..." Ginny took a breath. "You heard that prissy blonde prick running his mouth off. Any day of the week Mum would've given him a piece of her mind, but no, it's all 'oh but what did Lockhart think', and 'oh but Lockhart is the best thing since Scourgify'."
"Don't demean Cleaning Charms like that," said Harry.
Ginny's mouth twitched.
"Anyway, I'm not exactly the person to ask, am I?" Harry grinned.
"Hermione's apparently lost the plot as well, and as far as Lockhart's concerned Luna doesn't give a flying turd," Ginny counted off on her fingers.
Harry snorted with laughter. "I didn't know they were a thing people usually gave. Do you want me to give you a..."
"Oh go suck on a flobberworm," Ginny muttered, trying to hide a smirk. "Seriously though, look at Dad. He has a good job, I mean he's head of a Ministry of Magic office. A small one, but it's still not bad for a family that everyone in the whole fucking country looks down on just because we don't treat muggles and muggleborns like dirt."
"Hey," Harry murmured, pulling Ginny, unresisting, into his arms. He wasn't quite sure what else to say.
"And we'd be well off if they hadn't had seven kids," Ginny sniffed angrily. Orange plasma flickered through her hair like a fiery aurora. "So Dad works his butt off every day of the week, night and day, so that he can send us all to Hogwarts and still put food on the table. He's more of a hero than Lockhart will ever be."
"I'm sure Mum knows that," said Harry.
"So why's she fawning over the bastard?" Ginny sighed.
Harry held her as the rage subsided, before pushing her out to arm's length and smiling softly. "I know what'll cheer you up."
"We're going to make a Lockhart doll and rip its limbs out?" said Ginny.
Harry squinted at her. "No... Do I need to keep an eye on you?"
"Harry..." said Ginny, finally seeming to return to her normal self, "you should always keep an eye on me."
"Anyway, let's look through our new books," said Harry.
Ginny sniggered lightly. "I'm not Hermione."
Harry gave her a look.
"I am not!" Ginny said indignantly. "Thought you figured that out at her place."
"Oh shut up," Harry muttered.
Laughing uproariously, Ginny pulled out her new textbooks, only for a small, nondescript black book to fall to the floor.
"That's not on the booklist," said Harry.
"I... didn't buy this," Ginny frowned, turning it over in her hands. "There's something on the back. Winstanley's Bookstore & Stationers, Vauxhall Road, London."
"A book from a muggle store in Diagon alley?" said Harry. "You think someone dropped it by accident or something?"
"Doubt it," Ginny muttered. "It said 1939 on the front. I wonder what it is..."
"Y- yeah..." said Harry.
Ginny moved to open the book. "We probably shouldn't. It could be dangerous."
"Dangerous?" Harry snorted. "It's a book."
"You... Yeah," said Ginny.
"Go on, what does it say?" said Harry.
"T. M. Riddle..." Ginny said slowly. "The ink's really smudged. It's... I think it's a diary, but it's completely empty."
"That's weird..." said Harry. And then he realised that it wasn't weird at all. "Maybe he just decided he didn't want it. We could use it, couldn't we?"
"A secret record of everything we get up to," Ginny smirked. "Well... Maybe not everything."
Harry turned bright red. "Yeah."
"Hmm," Ginny said, taking the diary over to her desk and inking a quill. "August 12th, 1992. Bill left today. He was only here for two weeks, and that's the first time I saw him in three years. I miss him already."
Harry squeezed onto the chair next to her, wrapping his arm around her waist. She snuggled contentedly into him, but suddenly froze. It wasn't hard to see why. The ink Ginny had just put to parchment was being absorbed straight in, leaving behind nothing but a blank page.
"Maybe that's why they left it," said Harry. "There's something wrong..."
But then the ink was reappearing. Rather than Ginny's sorrowful words, however, it spelled out another message entirely.
Hello. My name is Tom Riddle. How did you come by my diary?