Ginny glanced around the room to make sure the doors were shut, and that it still sounded like Demelza was in the shower. Then, she pulled her curtains closed, and drew her wand. It had been two weeks since she'd found the Sound-Proofing charm in the library, but – though she'd tried whenever she could – she was yet to cast it properly.
The first time, both Georgina and Demelza had been in the room, drifting off to sleep, and Ginny had set her bed hangings on fire. Since then, she'd been more careful about only trying when she was alone, and that had been markedly easier these past few days, because Georgina had gone home over Easter.
"Mollescum," Ginny said quietly, trying to get the awkward intonation right, and not neglect her wand movement while doing so. There was a bright flash of orange light, but it didn't hit the hangings like it should have. In fact, it didn't seem to have hit anything. Ginny scratched her nose absently, and inspected the curtains, but they weren't glowing ever so faintly yellow, like they should have been. Ginny rubbed her nose again, which was starting to really bother her.
She re-read the page she'd copied out of Advanced Charms, practiced what she thought the wand movement ought to have been – but, despite having copied the sketch pretty well, it was a lot harder to learn from a picture than a person – and then lifted her wand ready to start again. Then, something sticky hit her chin, and when Ginny looked down, all she could see was a lot of green.
Ginny slid off the bed, wand still in hand, and crossed the room to the large mirror that hung by the bathroom door. Her other hand kept coming up to her nose, wanting to scratch it – it was unbearably uncomfortable – but she refrained from actually touching it, or the- whatever the green thing was.
If Ginny wasn't Ginny, she might have screamed at the sight that met her eyes; hanging from a strand from her nose was a large bogey the size of her fist. Tom started to howl with laughter in her head. Ginny had a bad feeling this would end with her in the hospital wing, and that would lead to awkward questions about what she'd been doing, and that would convince Mum and Dad and McGonagall even more that she needed to see someone. Ginny didn't want to see anyone.
"Finite Incantatem," she said, though it came out muffled thanks to her partially blocked nose. Nothing happened though. If anything, the bogey seemed to swell. Her hands fluttered uselessly around her nose as the bogey got heavier and made her nose ache and itch more than ever – and then she spied the tissue box on Demelza's bedside table.
Can't hurt, she thought, turning away from the mirror. The bogey started to move, first gently, and then more violently, as if there was something alive inside of it. Tom laughed away, and Ginny awkwardly cupped her face with one hand, and reached for a tissue with another. As soon as the tissue touched the bogey, it vanished – Ginny knew, because she ran back to the mirror to check. What in Godric's name…?
She sat down on her bed again, and awkwardly picked up her quill; while she'd been at it since the Chamber, she was making slow progress writing with her left hand.
Bogeys, she wrote. Professor Flitwick had warned them all about the importance of pronunciation at the beginning of the school year with his Wizard Baruffio story. Ginny thought she'd got off lightly, and, though her mucked up Sound-Proofing charm wouldn't solve her nightmare issue for her dormmates, she was sure it would come in handy at some point. Perhaps next time Fred or George annoyed her… not that they'd done an awful lot of that, lately. And Bill liked weird magic, so he was sure to appreciate it, though there was no way of knowing how long it would be until Ginny saw him, or even when he'd write back next; Bill's work tended to take him to remote places for weeks at a time.
Ginny jumped, startled, as the bathroom door opened and Demelza walked out, towelling her hair dry. She stopped short at the sight of Ginny, who'd stuffed her parchment out of sight and was now just holding her wand.
"Did you want the bathroom?" Demelza asked, rather warily, eyeing the wand in Ginny's hand. Ginny could tell she was uncomfortable – maybe even scared – and that annoyed her almost as much as it made her feel like rubbish.
"I was just-" But Ginny was saved from having to explain – or pretend to explain – anything, because there was a yell, and then a thump, and then raucous laughter. Demelza hurried over to the door, and wrenched it open. Ginny followed her, curious. The pair of them peered over the railing that overlooked the common room to see Ron in a rather undignified heap at the bottom of the girl's staircase. The staircase, which had been smooth, reformed into stairs even as Ginny watched.
"It's not that you're not allowed up there, Ron-"
"Although you're not," George added.
"-it's that you're not able to get up there," Fred continued. Ginny'd heard from Demelza – back before Demelza thought she was a lunatic – who'd heard from the older girls, about the staircase, and was able to work out what had happened fairly quickly.
"Did you know?" Ron was demanding of Harry, as he picked himself up off the floor. Harry was standing by Neville Longbottom, laughing, but shook his head when Ron addressed him. "'You're her brother," Ron continued, rubbing his backside, as he glared at Harry, "no one will mind, Ron, I'm sure it'll be all right'."
"I thought," Harry managed through his laughter, "it would be." Ginny couldn't help the laugh that slipped out at that, and at Ron's disgruntled expression. Harry's head snapped up to look at her, and Ron's eyes followed.
"Oh, brilliant," Ron muttered. "Did everyone see, then?"
"I didn't actually see you fall, but I heard you squeal from my room," she said, heading down the stairs towards them.
"I didn't squeal!" Ron said, ears turning red, while Fred and George howled with laughter and Harry struggled nobly to keep a straight face for Ron's sake. Ginny just arched an eyebrow at her youngest older brother, and then reached forward to pat him arm. Ron pulled it away. "Whatever Ginny," he said, scowling. "Next time we'll just go to dinner without you. Won't we Harry?"
"Sure, Ron," Harry said; he'd lost the fight for a neutral expression, and was grinning openly now.
"I miss Hermione and Malfoy," Ron told him. "They're much better friends than you are."
"Draco?" Harry asked him, still grinning, though Ginny thought something had changed in his expression at the mention of their other two friends. "Who would have laughed himself silly at what you just did?"
"Hermione then," Ron said.
"Now, Ron," Harry said, in a rather good imitation of Hermione's bossy voice, "if you'd read-"
"-Hogwarts: A History," Ron said, in a high pitched voice, "you'd know that some stuffy old warlock enchanted that staircase-" Harry laughed, and Ron shook his head, grinning. "Do you reckon I should read it? As a happy-unpetrification present for Hermione?"
"No," Harry said, "because then she'll want me to read it-"
Kiddo,
Tried to get you this afternoon through the mirror to respond to your letter, but couldn't, so I decided to write back to you instead. Look at us; writing. Guess it's a sign of how busy things are at the moment. It's odd not having you around for Easter, though to be fair, I haven't been around much either. I think we made the right call in having you stay at Hogwarts for the break; this way, at least you've had someone to talk to other than Kreacher. Speaking of, did you get the eggs from me and Kreacher? Hope they were all right – it's been warm lately, so I hope they didn't melt on the way. I should've put a cooling charm on the package, but I didn't think of that.
Your last letter made me laugh at Ron! I hope his pride wasn't too damaged. If it was, feel free to tell him James made an even bigger mess of it; first year, he was trying to get upstairs to pester Lily or leave her a flower or something – back then, pestering and presents were one and the same anyway! – and broke his wrist when he landed. Silly git. At least Ron sounded like he ended up all in one piece. And yes, you're right that we do have stories of pranks we pulled up in the girls' dormitories. No, we didn't have any of the girls in on it, before you ask. I won't tell you how we managed, because you're twelve so there's nothing of interest to you up there at the moment. When you're a bit older… well, you'll either find a way or make one. All I'll tell you is that you'll have a better chance than Ron – or any of the other boys, likely as not – of managing it. And that's all I'll say; Moony would be horrified to know I've hinted even this much.
Crouch Snr is well and truly settled in Azkaban, but there's been no news of either Crouch or Peter. I reckon they'll have gone abroad to keep out of reach, but there's really no way of knowing. What we do know is that they'll be trying to find their way back to Voldemort, though whether they're after him, or the necklace, or after more information about the diary, I couldn't say. There's been a lot of talk here at the Ministry about making sure the school's safe from them – and by school, I mean you and Ron, and the others that were involved with the Chamber (because there's no way of knowing how much, exactly, Crouch knew about the Chamber). I heard Fudge prattling on about Dementors the other day, but I'm hoping Scrimgeour can talk him out of it; he seemed to think it was a stupid idea too, thankfully. I suppose I'll keep you posted on that, though thankfully there's only another month or so left, and then you'll be home for the summer.
In the meantime – and Merlin this gets repetitive to have to say – keep your wits about you, and let me or Dumbledore know if you see any rats or anything else suspicious. Keeping an eye on the Map's probably not a bad idea, either.
Talk to you soon,
Padfoot.
"Did you want something Potter?" Snape asked, without looking up from his desk. Harry, who'd packed his potions kit up as slowly as possible so that he might have a chance to talk to Snape, slung his bag over his shoulder and took a step forward.
"I was wondering if there's been any news on the mandrakes-"
"No," Snape said. "Not since Monday, or last week when you and Weasley asked three times apiece, or the week before-"
"Right," Harry said, flushing. "Sorry, I just- At the beginning of term, Dumbledore said around Easter, and- well, Easter's been, so-"
"You are not the only person concerned for the victims," Snape told him. "I assure you, the restorative will be brewed the moment the mandrakes are ready, but until that time comes there is very little to be done for them."
"You'll- could you let us-"
"You will be informed," Snape said impatiently, looking up for the first time. "Did you need anything else?"
"Er, no, I don't think-"
"Then kindly remove yourself from my classroom," Snape said, looking down again. "I've just spent a double lesson with the lot of you, and have no intention of spending my lunch hour in your company."
"Right, sorry- thanks for-"
"Get out, Potter," he said pointedly. Harry left, and re-joined Ron, who'd waited for him in the corridor outside.
"How'd it go?" Ron asked.
"I reckon he might have thrown something at me if I'd stayed much longer," Harry said thoughtfully. "You can ask next time."
"Professor Sprout never seems to mind," Ron said. "But Snape likes me less than he does you, so it makes sense that you should be the one to talk to him." Harry couldn't dispute that, at least not today; Crabbe had shoved Ron in the storage cupboard and Ron had knocked a jar of expensive toadstools off the shelf and ruined them. He'd lost twenty points on the spot, and been given detention, and Harry thought he'd mark their potion down as further compensation. "So he didn't give you a time frame?"
Harry shook his head and said, "Just that we'll be 'informed'."