"Ginny, pass me the trowel."
Her Mum sat back on her heels kneeling with Ginny in the garden. Cushioning charms oscillated under their knees forcing them to constantly readjust their balance. Her Mum brushed her hand across her forehead to catch loose beads of sweat trickling down her brow. It was a hot midday Monday morning. The July sun beat hard against their backs. Despite the cooling charms, Mother and daughter hunched over in the garden drenched in sweat.
"It's by your left foot darling," her Mum interrupted her fumbling. "Ah thank you. There is another gnome popping up through the Primrose."
"Got him," Ginny grabbed the gnome by his elbow and flung him into the yard. She stared enviably at Fred and George using Ron for beater practice in the Quidditch field. Round after round they whacked a small preserved pumpkin aggressively towards his head as Ron tried to roll away. She looked at her Mum wondering if she would let her play with them. But there was no need to ask. What was the point in asking for something when you already knew the answer? Especially this summer with all her Mum's hovering. Ginny sighed.
"Are you tired, Ginny?"
The question caught her by surprise. She was tired. It had been almost a week since her last dreamless sleep potion. Every night revolved around Harry meeting his downfall because of her. Tom killed him in the chamber, in Myrtle's bathroom, on the Quidditch pitch, and in the dorms. Once he possessed her and she strangled Harry in her dorm room. She felt his life draining as she squeezed her fingers around his throat. The worst part was the joy bubbling in her stomach as she felt strong and in control while draining his life force.
But she couldn't tell Mum this. She would start giving her the dreadful sleeping potion again. She would be out of control forced into the blank void night after night. No, she would avoid that at all costs.
"I am fine."
"Hm, are you sure? I noticed a lot of grass stains on your night dresses. Strange, during the day I have never seen you outside in your bed things," Her Mum said.
Ginny stopped digging as her stomach sank. She recognized this line of questioning from a mile away. Mum knows, or think she knows, about her nighttime wanderings.
"Well, some mornings I like to get up early and watch the sunrise."
"Really? Well, invite me next time. I would enjoy that," her Mum pivoted around her bold face lie. She must really have something on her.
"Another quick thing."
"Yes."
"Why have you stopped snoring? Since you were a little girl you have had a slight snort when you were in deep sleep. But this last week your room has been strangely silent at all hours of the night."
"Really? How peculiar. Maybe it is the extra pillows in my bed? I will tell Ron, I am sure his Harry and the boys would appreciate the lack of snorts coming from his bed."
"Indeed they probably would. One last thing."
Ginny tensed. This was the big one. She must have seen her or heard her sneaking out. Did her silencing charm stop working? Did she forget to close the broomshed door?
"Why did you stop writing."
The question was so out of the blue Ginny didn't have time to compose a response. Instead, she sat and waited.
"I miss you writing. You have always used to have a quill and parchment in hand. What happened?"
Ginny looked down at her pale hands covered with dirt. Dirt was under the nails, in her cuticles, encrusted in the wrinkles in her hands. Her hands looked as if they would never be clean again.
"I don't know," Ginny said giving her first truthful answer staring at her knees. Her Mum sat off her heels and onto the grass. She stopped shoveling and looked at Ginny with a reproachful gaze.
"Do you miss writing?"
"I don't know." Ginny felt her frustration and anger mounting. Why did any of this matter? Why did her Mum suddenly care about her writing and her studies? Was she worried about her falling behind?
"Are you afraid?"
The question lingered in the air. It fell heavily onto Ginny as she sat without a response. Was she afraid? She had no idea. She hadn't thought about how she felt. She thought about hating her potion, letting her family down, being a burden, but never about fear. This wasn't fair. Why should she tell her Mum how she feels now? Where was she this past year when she knew she was afraid?
"Just leave it!" Ginny yelled as the anger and frustration pulsed through her veins. It felt like fire rushing through her blood as she stood to her feet and kicked the trowel towards her Mum. Stalking away from the garden she was lifted outside of her body. She watched herself throw her shovel on the ground making a dramatic exit into the house. Her Mum's body hunched over obviously upset.
Her stomach lurched and she felt a shiver of cold air despite the heat. This wasn't her. She doesn't make people cry. She makes them laugh. She disarms them with her charm and impressions. She bends the rules until she delicately can break them. She is fearless and kind. She isn't someone who yells at her Mum sitting in the garden.
Ginny ran into the house avoiding the twins and Ron staring at her in the kitchen. They disgustingly drank from a shared pitcher of lemonade. They must have heard her yell. They must have seen her storm away from their crying Mum.
"Oh, you three leave it alone."
She started to stalk away to her room when her Dad interrupted, flooing in through the fireplace. Green swirling smoke gathered at his feet as he stumbled into the kitchen.
"Well don't look so glum! Didn't you four hear? We won! We won!" He picked up Ginny and swung her around in circles like she was six years old again. The tension in the room shattered as their Dad's enthusiasm spread. "Someone quick, go grab your Mum! Tell her we won!"
"Arthur, honestly, why are you swinging poor Ginny? You are going to make her sick. What on earth is going on?" Arthur dropped Ginny into an open chair and stalked over to Molly. He reached over, grabbed her by the waist and pulled her into a deep loving kiss. George and Fred groaned while Ron looked ashen by this sudden outburst of affection.
His hands held her face. Their eyes locked filled with emotion and passion. Her father's voice lost the playfulness as he spoke in quiet serious words.
"Molly, my darling amazing Molly. My wife who does so much and asks for so little. Molly we won." The last words emotionally whispered as his voice caught.
"Won? What on earth have we won?" Molly lifted her apron and rubbed the dirt and sweat off of her face.
"Seven…hu-hundred...gal-" Arthur could not continue before Molly screamed in delight. She pulled him back into a long drawn out kiss. Ginny smiled in spite of the anger she felt moments before at her Mum's invasive questions. Her Mum looked lovingly into her father's eyes with joy and elation.
"Blimey! Seven hundred galleons! We're rich!" Ron sputtered out.
"Not quite rich, my boy, but we're certainly not poor." Arthur came over and wrapped his arms around Ron's shoulder squeezing him into a tight embrace. "Molly I need you to go to the Prophet, collect the money, and deposit it in Gringotts. I need to get back to work. But seven hundred galleons! Everyone start thinking about how they want to spend it!"
Arthur popped back into the fireplace and grabbed a handful of floo powder from the brass pot on the mantle. Green smoke swirled at his feet as he twisted out of the fireplace and through the chimney. The last words they heard were "Ministry of Magic" before he was gone. Molly soon followed after leaving instruction with the boys to look after Ginny.
Seven hundred galleons. This meant Ron could afford a brand new wand instead of a second hand one. The twins would probably spend their share at the joke shop and on sweets. Percy would want to invest his in something responsible and sensible, probably a new set of new tailored robes. Bill and Charlie would never accept money but may invite them to visit over Christmas.
What did she want? A broom of her own was the first thing on her list. It only made sense. All her brothers started flying at home as soon as they took lessons at Hogwarts. She hadn't requested her own broom because she figured the price was out of the question. But now, everything was different. They had seven hundred galleons to use. Even if she only had 8 Galleons, they could afford a used Cleansweep 325. It doesn't have to be brand new, or a Nimbus. Just a good reliable quality broom with little wear and tear. A good cushioning charm could go a long way for longer practice sessions. And while it would always be slower in acceleration than a Nimbus, it had a tighter turning radius for some of her more aerobatic maneuvers. Yes, once Mum returns she knew exactly what she is going to ask for.
Her Mum didn't return for several hours until it was almost time for dinner. She came through the fireplace with bags containing gifts and groceries. Ginny and Percy rushed to help her unburden her load while Fred, George, and Ron started to pull away at the gift bags.
"Now get away from there!" Their Mum said sternly. "I got something brand new for each of you so no need to crowd."
The boys sheepishly backed away. The excitement over receiving something new radiated throughout the room. Ginny bounced in her seat examining the bags. None of them were large enough to be her desired broomstick. But there are charms that could shrink one to fit in a coin purse let alone a shopping bag. Her Mum picked up her bags and headed to her bedroom.
"Percy, you come first. It isn't every day I am able to do something like this, I want to make it special." Percy trailed behind their Mum with an excited expression on his face. He looked younger as if he was a small child waiting for Santa to come down the chimney at Christmas.
The remaining siblings sat in anticipatory silence. Everyone was too excited to speculate or talk. The entire day had been a whirlwind of excitement. Twenty minutes later Percy poked his head from the top of the stairs. He beamed from ear to ear and his eyes looked moist as if he had finished tearing up.
"Fred and George, she wants you together."
Fred and George scrambled out of their seats towards the steps. Ron met Ginny's gaze and smiled brightly at her.
"Something brand new! It better not be maroon."
"What do you want?"
"Anything really! But something from the Cannons would be nice. Tickets to their next game or a pennant."
"Huh, I figured you would want a new wand." Ron sat dumbfounded for a second as a look of recognition crossed his face. His cheeks blazed as red as his hair and he crinkled his forehead looking constipated.
"Yeah, I forgot about that with them put up for the summer. I guess I just assume that would come in time for school."
"Ron!" The twins thundered down the stairs like two punch drunk elephants. "Your turn."
Ron jumped from his seat sprinting to the stairs with his arms pumping by his sides. He was halfway up the landing before he looked back at Ginny sheepishly grinning.
Ginny sat alone in the kitchen. The anticipation bounced in her stomach as she twisted her left ankle in loops spelling the alphabet. It had to be a broom. Please let it be a broom. Everyone looked so excited. With her Quidditch posters and constant chatter about the Harpies, her Mum had to know she wanted to fly. She had to know she wanted her own broom and permission to play with her brothers more than anything in the world.
"Gin! Your turn!" Ron's head peaked out from the stair landing. Ginny's stomach flipped as she rose. It was time. Taking the stairs two at a time Ginny knocked on her Mum's door and waited.
