PLEASE NOTE: This is the beginning of the Alternate Ending. The chapter to read prior to this one is Chapter 20: Pilwickle's Portkey. Enjoy!
Gnomes :o)
"Oh, come oooooooooon Ginny, tell Lizzy and I about Handsome Boy, won't you? Lizzy, you better hear this. You're not going to believe what Ginny did with her summer."
"You mean besides for running off to Australia on (giggle, giggle) Harry Potter's Firebolt?"
"I mean much more. Now come on, Ginny, let's have it. Allthejuicydetails."
It was hard for Ginny not to break into a smile at the mention of Ryan, granted that Nora and Lizzy had scarcely said more than a few words to her since their first year. If it wasn't for that picture of her and the Airbornes holding the Quidditch Cup she'd placed at her bedside in the dormitory...
Ginny reached for the golden goblet before her, half-filled with pumpkin juice, and put it to her lips. Only Ginny's fathomless love for Hogwarts could prevent her from being utterly miserable about leaving Aus. If the experience had felt dreamlike while she was there, being back home she felt it twofold. Had she really gone all the way to Australia by herself? Had she really been on a Quidditch team, and had that team really won the Quidditch Cup? But most importantly, did Ryan exist, or was he only a figment of her prolific imagination?
It helped to speak of him, so she wasn't bothered by Nora's prodding. It helped her to remember, to keep her remarkable summer alive and at the center-most part of her mind. She could not forget. She would not forget.
There was another reason too, bearing the initials H.P. She'd come home, tried her best to keep out his way, which was difficult since her family had invited him to stay the last few days of August. He'd approached her.He'd been so kind about it, remarkably generous-spirited, and had forgiven her it seemed before she'd arrived back on English soil.
But the marked improvement in treatment from her brothers was not to be found in Harry. Sure, when they hesitantly asked her to play Quidditch with them, and found her skills outstrip their expectations, they were all of them impressed, Harry included. But overall, it was all still there: the condescension, the courtesy, the civility- nothing less or added. At first she thought it was her imagination, that perhaps he did want to get to know her better, but was too timid to try. So one evening, sitting on the porch after a delicious Weaslean supper, she struck up a conversation with him about broomsticks, which was moving along splendidly until she realized he probably talked to Cho about that all the time, and said abruptly,
"How is Cho, by the way?"
The words Petrificus Totalus could not have produced a more deadening effect on Harry. A stifling silence fell between them, as Ginny prayed for a very large hole to appear in the ground beneath her. Then Harry mumbled something about hearing Ron calling and practically ran back into the house (well, stumbled back in was more like it). Making polite conversation was one thing; chatting with her about his love life was clearly another. In her frustration, Ginny had seized a gnome skipping past her and hurled it out of the garden (It must have gone at least seventy feet, poor thing). She was still the little sister; one summer had not changed everything.
Ginny stole a quick glimpse down the Gryffindor table. Harry was reading a note Hedwig had just delivered, a broad smile on his face. Before Ginny could wonder about its contents, Harry suddenly glanced up at her. Her heart gave a startled leap, and began thumping madly against her chest when Harry, still blissfully smiling, gave a small wave. She was mustering up the courage to wave back when she heard an explosion of giggles behind her. She turned to see Cho bright red, as her entourage nudged her and giggled uncontrollably. Ginny turned in Harry's direction again, her heart sinking. That smile, that wave...both belonged to Cho, as they probably always would.
"Stop avoiding it, Ginny. We promise to do whatever you'd like today if you tell us. And we won't tell anyone else, we promise."
Ginny turned her attention back to the two eager listeners, feeling miserable.
"His name is Ryan."
Lizzy eyes instantly grew wider, and Nora leaned forward, placing her elbow on the table, holding her chin up with her hand.
"Go on," she said, nodding to Ginny.
"He's sixteen years old, and he's captain of a junior Quidditch team. All the players are between fourteen and seventeen. There's also Danny, Tommy, Audrey, Wirri-"
"Nooo, tell us more about what he looks like," Nora broke in impatiently.
"Yeah, your picture wasn't clear at all," Lizzy added. "We'd like…specifics."
"Well, he's quite tall," Ginny began, trying hard to be descriptive. "A little over six feet."
"And he's extremely fit, I imagine," supplied Nora with a dreamy smile.
"Yes, well, he's involved in sports nearly the entire day," Ginny explained, annoyed at her reddening face. She chose a different route. "He's got blond hair, which was only tidy once all summer- it generally looks the same as it does when he first wakes up."
"How would you know?" Lizzy asked slyly.
"Iimagine," said Ginny hotly.
"Liz, shut up. Go on," Nora told Ginny.
"Um…he's also got blue eyes. Blue like…" Ginny stopped, thought for a moment, then shook her head.
"Like what?"
"There's no proper way to describe them." She saw them vividly in her mind, looking at her with his penetrating gaze. But she knew no description could do them justice.
"Oh, come on, there must be something," exclaimed Nora. "Blue like the ocean?"
"No, not exactly."
"Blue like a, like a sapphire?" Lizzy asked giggling.
"No."
Nora looked around.
"Blue like that?" she asked, pointing to the Ravenclaw banner. Ginny shook her head.
"Neither."
The three surveyed the Great Hall, attempting to find the elusive blue.
"Blue like the ceiling," Nora asked, jamming her thumb up. Ginny glanced up; the enchanted plafond was midnight blue, with the casual shooting star flying across it.
"No, not at all," said Ginny, beginning to get irritated. Her eyes carelessly passed over the head table, then darted back to it once more, fixating on it.
There sat Ryan, in a seat beside Professor Dumbledore's.
Great. Now my overly wishful imagination is conjuring illusions of Ryan. Just peachy.
But she kept staring, and when the vision neither blurred nor vanished (nor turned into Professor McGonagall), it slowly forged into a real yet startling possibility, though the idea was completely impossible. She felt mad for even entertaining the notion.
Apparitions of people living thousands of miles away aren't a good thing, even in the wizarding world.
Then Ginny laughed. So, her mind was playing foul tricks on her- it happened to everyone, didn't it?
"What's so funny?" Nora demanded.
Ginny looked at her, with an impish grin. She nodded towards the head table.
"Blue like that bloke's," she said. Why not have a bit of fun?
Nora glanced curiously over at the head table.
"Very funny, Ginny. How can I possible see his eyes from all the way over here?"
Ginny stopped grinning , her face turning pale.
"You-you can see him?"
"I can see who? That dreamy seventh year talking to Professor Dumbledore?" Nora chortled, with Lizzy directly seconding her amusement. "Of course I can- not a ghost, is he?"
"He's...seventh...heaven!" gasped Lizzy, becoming hysterical at her "witty" remark.
"Odd that we haven't noticed him before, right Liz? I think I'd remember crossing him in the hallways," she said, and they both giggled. "Who do you reckon he is?"
"He's Ryan," Ginny croaked.
The laughter ceased and both girls stared at her. Nora glanced at Ryan, then back at Ginny.
"Oh, come off it, Ginny," she said skeptically after a moment. She nudged Lizzy, muttering loud enough for Ginny to hear, "Honestly, we give her the slightest bit of attention, and she's already telling lies to get more."
Ginny's face went red.
"I'm not lying," she said angrily, though panic was rising to her throat. "That boy is Ryan, I swear it. Youcan see him, and so can Lizzy, and so can I. He's real, and...he's really Ryan."
Nora rolled her eyes. "So you can see me, does that mean I'mRyan?"
Lizzy burst into laughter, punctuated by the off snort.
Ginny's mind was a twister of thoughts, and screaming so many things she couldn't hear any of them. It didn't really matter if they didn't believe her, not if he was really there. And was he? She watched carefully, her eyes locked on him. He was raptly listening to Professor Dumbledore, who was leaning on his armchair, making use of his other arm to make gestures as he spoke to him. Then, quite suddenly, Ryan broke into laughter, and his smile caught her heart by surprise and gave it a jolt.
Ohmygosh. He's here. He's really, truly here.
As her body sat like an icicle on the wooden bench, Dumbledore pushed back his chair and stood up, clearing his throat. The chatter in the Great Hall dried up almost at once.
"No pleasure is so great as seeing all your faces again," he said, beaming at the sea of students before him. "But there is one face here, aside from our fearless first years', whom I have had the pleasure of seeing for the first time tonight. You see, Hogwarts has, in the course of its history, been host to students from schools around the world. Last year's tournament was an example of that tradition. This year, however, Hogwarts has opened its doors to one particular student, a young man in his seventh and last year of magical education, from the distant land of Australia. I'm sure you will all make him feel at home, and assist him whenever possible in his research. Please welcome, Mr. Ryan Buchanan."
Ginny's disbelieving eyes watched Ryan rise from his seat and nod to the rows of curious faces, his nerves, if at all affected, properly concealed. Nora and Lizzy's eyes made their way from Ryan to Ginny, wide open; Lizzy's hand had seized Nora's wrist in a frenzied panic, but Nora was too stunned to shake her off. A group of older Hufflepuffs (incidentally all of them girls) started to clap; it quickly spread to the other tables and woke up the pair, who began to clap more energetically than anyone else, though their speech was nothing more than a series of high-pitched squeaks.
Ryan's face was scanning the tables, almost unaware of the warm salute being offered. At last he found the object of his search and (though he was denying it even to himself) of his entire journey, and when he did, all his mental preparations and cogent arguments buried themselves under what can only be described as unlimited tenderness. Her body sat frigidly, almost huddled in one spot; her small, pale face and wide eyes spoke of acute shock and great malaise. He wanted to run to her and make her laugh, but instead he waited until their eyes met, and waved to her. Hi, he mouthed, smiling an excellent smile.
Nearly every girl in the Great Hall whipped their heads in her direction. She only saw him. And slowly, very, very slowly, Ginny smiled back.
