Chapter - 6

On approaching her brothers in the clearing, the events that occurred went by as quick as the fluttering of a snitch's wing. Her brothers pulsed about like two mother birds, checking her state and assessing whether she'd been hurt or not, and then finally berating her for not sticking close by, followed by tears of confessions of how guilt stricken they'd have been if something happened to her.

Ginny tuned it all out, giving a comforting pat and accepting their hug. The night and her unintentional escapade had made her exhausted. She leaned into their frames and walked ahead to the campsite. Most of the tents were all burned down, and all the pomp and splendour that had been held before were now deflated and turned to mottled caricatures.

The burned and ashen tents, along with the wilted grass resembled more of a graveyard, than a World Cup arena.

Charlie, Bill and Percy had all been pacing about in their tents. Upon their arrival, their expressions lightened on seeing the relatively unharmed states of her and the twins. They seated themselves and just as Ginny had settled down, she saw a mop of ginger hair enter the tent.

Her Dad, Ron, Harry and Hermione had entered. None of them were injured but they looked startled and drained of all life in them.

Their entry was marked with a furious discussion about the Dark Mark and the person who had casted the Dark Mark. Upon learning that the Dark Mark was a sign used by Death Eaters, Ginny paled, thinking back to her time in the forest, Wilhelm had known what the sign was, was he a death eater?

The rational part of her argued that he seemed scared by it, and perturbed. He'd wanted her to get to safety as well. Perhaps having Lucius Malfoy as an uncle could've made him be exposed to such things of a dark nature. After all the question as to whether Lucius Malfoy was a death eater – proved to be something that was very much possible.

"Listen, it's very late, and if your mother hears what's happened, she'll be worried sick. We'll get a few more hours sleep and then try and get an early Portkey out of here."

Her father's voice, pierced through her thoughts, and as if on command - Ginny found herself drowsily walking towards Hermione, placing a comforting arm on her curly haired friend, and the last thing she remembered was a pair of hands tucking her in.

They rose up early in time for the sun which was at the cusp of fully shining in all its glory. The rays seemed to wash over and lighten up even the most mottled and damaged tents and surroundings. Ginny felt far more positive and silently basked in the sunlight. Everyone filed away from the tents, while they walked away Fred and George walked on both sides of her.

"Hey Gin, about yesterday, I want you to know that we're really sorry for letting you out of our sight." Fred whispered to her, looking away ashamedly at her gaze.

"You guys, it's okay. I was fine and in fact I think I was far safer in the woods than if I had been anywhere else." She stressed.

"Right but it was our duty to keep you close to us." George said bleakly.

Ginny felt a tinge of guilt, had she been more active in searching for them while in the forest then maybe this wouldn't have eaten at their protective instincts as hard as it did.

She held both of their hands in a rare act of sisterly affection and stopped walking, she bowed her head solemnly, looking down as if she were conducting an Unbreakable Bond.

"Alright, there is one way you could make it up to me." She said quietly.

At this the duo's faces considerably lightened up. They looked at her encouragingly, and nodded. Noting that she had their full attention she continued.

"I'd forget all about this if you give me one percent of your future proceedings from Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes."

On hearing this their faces fell almost as fast as it had lightened up, and their guilty nerves apparated.

"We do feel bad but not that BAD!" guffawed George, causing her and Fred to break away in laughter in tandem. Her dad had heard the commotion behind the group and immediately bellowed to the riotous trio.

"Come along now!"

The journey back home was quiet and uneventful. Not even Fred or George was in the mood for gags or quips. Although Ginny suspected it was partly due to them losing their hard-earned savings by placing that bet with the slimy Ludo Bagman.

As they walked back home, trudging up the uneven terrain of Stoatshead Hill, Ginny found herself walking near Harry, who had a similarly fast pace as the one she'd held. Harry's face was pale and blank, his eyes were heavily shadowed underneath. All of them were looking worse for wear, but Harry's messy unkempt hair and his frazzled demeanour seemed more particularly effected.

"You alright Harry?" Ginny asked surprising herself and even Harry. Harry managed a small tight smile and nodded reassuring her.

"Just have a lot on my mind Ginny." He said as if he were carrying the weight of the world upon him. On seeing her face cross with worry, he jested "Seems like the Dark Lord might be right on time this year."

The joke didn't seem to assuage Ginny, instead an even potent mixture of worry and concern flashed in her eyes. Harry looked ahead, clearly not in a frame of mind to entertain small talk, so instead they walked silently, matching footsteps. They passed through the unaffected village of Ottery St. Catchpole and upon entering the familiar surroundings, she inwardly relaxed, relishing the air, watching the small children play a lazy game of catch.

The game of catch reminded her of the World Cup game that had become overshadowed by the darker events that happened in the latter half of the night. She remembered the Hawkshead Trio and the veracity of the chasers. She was glad that she had got the Diorama. It was a small memento of the happy moments of the previous night.

Thinking along the lines of Quidditch, she turned to Harry.

"You should try doing the Wronski Feint on your Firebolt!" she suggested. This seemed to brighten him up and his chest puffed up a bit and he suddenly walked taller, his eyes looking above immersed in thought – probably imagining himself attempting the move she amusedly mused.

He cheerily turned to her and let out a laugh, "I would, but I don't fancy having a bone-less arm at the start of my school year."

"Why not? It'd be a new look." She blasely added. "But you're right all life-threatening injuries need to be borne at the end of the school year."

Her jab at the trio's usual unintentional escapades at the end of the year was clearly not missed. Harry grinned.

As they rounded the corner and the Burrow came into view, a cry echoed along the lane. "Oh, thank goodness, thank goodness!" Her mum had evidently been waiting for them in the front yard, came running toward them, still wearing her bedroom slippers, her face pale and strained, a rolled-up copy of the Daily Prophet clutched in her hand. "Arthur — I've been so worried — so worried —"

Her mum's worried and harried concern soon flooded all of them, she doted on Fred and George who were clearly preening in silent vindication at their mother's tear-filled guilt-ridden face

"I shouted at you before you left!" Her mum said, starting to sob. "It's all I've been thinking about! What if You-Know-Who had got you, and the last thing I ever said to you was that you didn't get enough O.W.L.s? Oh Fred . . . George . . ."

They all entered the warm, cosy Burrow. Nestled in their kitchen, the adults and her older siblings were in rapid discussion of what had happened and it's after effects on the Ministry. Ginny slipped out and went up to her room, she unpacked everything and lay down on her bed, staring straight at the wonky ceiling. She needed time to be by herself.

She wondered whether she'd ever hear from Wilhelm again and looking back at their farewell, she must've come across as rude. But Ginny was exhausted and spent up that night, so was he, maybe he'd understand. She flopped to her belly, and sunk in the warm comforter insulating her.

The question as to whether Wilhelm was a snotty pureblood like his cousin still held weight in her mind. His familiarity with the Dark Mark and such also silently gave her chills. She kept her mind and heart open, open to indications of anything otherwise. Because while Ginny would distance herself from him if he were a swot. She also liked his smile and voice, and thought that hearing it again was not such a bad thing.

She smiled to no one in particular. Sensing the involuntary action at the thought of him, she wondered whether this was what a crush was. NO! she admonished; she couldn't possibly crush on a likely Pureblood Supremacist. The kind she looked down on for their prejudice and narrowmindedness.

That wasn't possible. She shot up and sat on her bed, gathering her comforter for support. She pulled her pillow to use as a crutch, and as she removed it, she came across the glossy pink book that had set her on an inward emotional Odyssey.

She held the pink book as if it were on fire and peered at it. She supposed it had partly worked, since she didn't quite think about her crush on Harry. And in a flash, she held it out gleefully! – It was true, she had not thought about Harry once. Maybe the book held an ounce of truth to it. She was no longer tongue tied and skittish around Harry, she was actually able to talk to him normally – she had been herself.

The thought pleased Ginny and she grinned, she looked around her room rapidly and wondered whether she still had a crush on him. She decided to test herself.

She shut her eyes and imagined Harry with an imaginary girl who was not her, she visualized Harry looking down at that stranger with his doe, like green eyes full of wonder as if that imaginary girl were the best thing since Bertie's Every Flavour Beans, she imagined him snaking his arm at this wain's waist, pulling her close, tilting his chin down so that they were eye-level, leaning slowly while brushing her hair aside to place a tentative kiss – And – No!

Ginny couldn't do it. Instead of the empty indifference that she had expected to flood in her chest, cold miserable envy took its stead. Her heart had leaped at the thought of Harry kissing someone else, and pounded heavily against her, as if it would rip through her flesh and mould into a sledgehammer – bonking the invisible girl in question.

She paced around her room and felt defeated at her still ever-present crush. She plopped onto the bed and took the book in her hand, lazily perusing the chapters that she didn't read much in detail. Until she reached the new chapter. She decided to do something else and change up her strategy.

Chapter – 3

'An empty mind is a Devil's workshop'

Now we've all been there guys and gals, perhaps university or work is going quite slow. It's cold outside and Maureen Malarkey won't shut up about her amazing new guy! And all you want to do is find someone to cuddle with and visit a new café with.

So, you decide to crush on someone. Either due to sheer boredom, or for the potential that it may turn into something wonderful! Which is completely alright, but maybe things don't go well. You might've been flustered in your first interaction or heavens forbid! – they have a significant other.

Now, you need to stop crushing on them, well:

The first thing in the order of action is to find a hobby, something that will consume you, make you obsessed. The aim of the game is to involve yourself in something so completely – that you forget thinking about your crush.

If you're altruistic you could sign up for the Red Cross or volunteer in shelters. If you're a budding fashionista, perhaps a sewing class would help, or a draping one. Whatsoever – your interest may be do something you love, something that creates value for yourself and will enrich you.

Because having a crush is a wonderful thing, but it's not all that defines you. You're a wonderful person and if your crush is unwilling or unavailable to see it, then invest your energy, time and thoughts to activities and people that need it. For….

This bothered Ginny, because maybe the crush was due to a lack of better things to do, but it wasn't some small infatuation. Growing up Ginny had heard stories of 'The Boy Who Lived' about the baby who withstood the greatest figure of terror and came unscathed. He was a hero, someone who would vanquish all things evil. A valiant and brave individual.

And then she saw him at King's Cross for the first time, it was like a character from a fable came alive. She gushed at him, at the boy with the lightning scar. But that changed, when her brother brought him home in their dusty Ford Anglia – her shiny image of him shattered, but it reformed – he was now a boy, a boy with shaggy dark hair and green eyes that shone brilliantly.

Seeing this distant figure, she'd only heard about from others, now enter her home, eat at her tiny kitchen, it felt foreign. He wasn't even snobby as she might've expected, in fact he'd seemed to love the Burrow as much as she did. He felt more approachable. She no longer saw him as a heroic figure. He was Ron's friend, and when she saw him interact with her brothers, laughing and playing quidditch.

Well, that made her smile a bit wider when she thought of him. She liked the way his eyes crinkled when he ate treacle tart. She liked how he always chose the same dusty comet broom that she adored, whenever they played Quidditch. Her image of him as this bright shiny wonder boy disappeared and soon another appeared: a kind, thoughtful and loyal Harry.

It didn't help, that he was the one who saved her from the chamber. Her first year was horrible and she barely remembered most of it, patches here and there maybe, the only time she was really fully cognizant was when Harry had rescued her. How could she stop liking him, she sighed.

But she decided that this couldn't go on too long. She was starting to get better and wallowing in her reasons for liking Harry wouldn't help. She was going to take up an activity, become obsessed with it and maybe someday she'd be like 'Harry Potter who?' in the most nonchalant way as possible.

Gazing at the window she deduced that it had become dark. She had spent the whole afternoon and evening brooding. She hurried downstairs, feeling hungry.

The following week had gone by in a blur, she had spent her hours doing something very unusual for her – reading books.

"You, ok Gin, something wrong?" asked Ron.

"Yeah, I'm good why do you ask."

He pointed at the book for which Ginny had rolled her eyes and kept reading. Honestly, it was like no one had seen her read. After fielding similar questions from her mum, dad and a few of her brothers. She had to wonder how they assumed she passed her exams.

She had asked Hermione - who seemed particularly thrilled – about interesting books that she could read, she hoped that she'd find something interesting and once she did, she'd explore that thread and it'd lead her to like something.

Hermione had lent her Book of Spells by Miranda Goshawk, and it was proving to be quite interesting. It helped that Ginny also drew a lot of similarities between her and Miranda Goshawk, in the foreword of the book Miranda Goshawk had described how she was the youngest and the last of nine daughters. She also grew up in a household where hand-me-downs were part and parcel of life, and where having new things were almost a luxury.

The book was not didactic and preachy like most textbooks were, the descriptions of spells and jinxes were infused with a flair of personality and funny quips here and there.

One paragraph for a spell called the Bat-Bogey-Hex was preluded by Miranda Goshawk entailing her using it on her siblings.

Now this is a particular favourite spell, but to all you young Wizards and Witches, use it sparingly I say. This came to my aid whilst asking my dear sister Diadema to return my expensive silk scarf. Effective for-

Ginny laughed at the description, and mentally filed away the name of the spell, so that she could practice it and eventually use it on her brothers. And just like that, she had started to grow an interest in reading much to Hermione's satisfaction and Ron's displeasure at losing a potential player for their Quidditch games in the Burrow's yard. She'd secretly take her Comet and fly a bit when they cleared away though.

She rarely saw Harry and Ron, and when she did - she'd make light conversation, blush a bit when Harry asked her a question but she mostly found herself wanting to get back to her reading.

She even ceased thinking about whether Wilhelm would write to her.

A/N: Yes, this chapter I tried explaining how Ginny found the Bat-Bogey-Hex, also everything I wrote about Miranda Goshawk is canon, I was kind of surprised at how similar she was to Ginny lol. Also, we don't see much of the boys this chapter. I'm curious as to whether you guys like reading small snippets like this, like a deeper dive into Ginny's internal world or an explanation as to how she practiced the Bat-Bogey-Hex. Like do you feel it takes away from the plot, do you find the pacing slow and wanting it to rush more into the canon events. Do tell me and feel free to mention it in a review! And as always Happy reading!