I'm back! Here's a rundown of how my trip to Austria and Bulgaria went!
It started off in pretty terrible fashion, as my scheduled portkey from London to Vienna was cancelled because someone had stolen the object that was meant to be used! I don't know why someone had an interest in stealing a toilet roll, all the Ministry's bathrooms were fully stocked, but there you go. When I did eventually arrive, holding a broken Muggle toaster, some 5 hours late, it was only 45 minutes before the match was due to begin! I quickly chucked the toaster in a nearby skip and set off at a run. I was only about a mile away from the stadium, but I didn't know the exact location and I didn't want to risk apperating into the middle of the pitch or the spectator stands. Also, the press entrance was to be closed 25 minutes before the start, so I had to get there as soon as possible.
I reached the press entrance with 28 minutes to spare, quickly showed them my Daily Prophet accreditation, and made my way inside to my reserved seat. Michael Long, a friend of mine who works for the recently created magazine Quidditch Weekly, was waiting in his usual position next to me, we make sure we always sit together on the job, when he's assigned to the same games as me.
"Ginny, what on earth kept you! My portkey was only meant to leave half an hour before yours, as you well know! I had a good afternoon seeing the sights here!"
"Someone stole the toilet roll that was meant to be used for mine! Don't ask, no idea!" I added, as he gave me a peculiar look. "I can see them all tomorrow, I'm here for 3 days before my next Portkey to Sofia. Right, quickly, give me the lineups, I'm meant to be doing live text coverage tonight".
He did so, and I was glad to see that 21 year old Holyhead beater Petunia Daniels had made the starting lineup. She's been in superb form this season, and if she keeps this up we could have the next Gwenog Jones on our hands, apart from her being English instead of Welsh of course.
As a Daily Prophet journalist, I'm meant to be officially neutral, and I do my best to be when writing for them. Everyone knows that I am a Harpies legend and also write for their magazine though, so when my occasional bias seeps through no-one ever complains.
When live text coverage of games happen in the wizarding world, a piece of parchment is included in that day's edition of the prophet. I write down what happens, and my words instantly appear on all those pieces of parchment. It's designed for those without access to a wireless. Sometimes, if a game is especially fast paced, it can be difficult to keep up, but as today was only a friendly, I doubted that would be a problem. I've never made any major mistakes anyway. You might wonder why I don't use a Quick Quotes Quill. Well, simply put, I don't want to use anything that Skeeter thinks is good. That in addition to the fact that me talking constantly in the press box would annoy everyone else there. I know that for a fact after one stupid incident last season where all the commentary positions at the Cannons stadium were filled, but an additional one was meant to be working that game, so he had to be placed in the press box. It took all my self control to not put a silencing charm on him. Trust the Chudley Cannons not to know how many commentators will be at one of their games.
Anyway, England won the match 280-100, with the game ending in just under an hour. Satisfying. Petunia unseated 3 Austria players, a solid performance for her international debut. I interviewed her after the game, and she was delighted to see me, as she had idolised me growing up, despite me being a Chaser. She just loved my work ethic and legendary status. Gwenog was also a big inspiration of hers of course, though she's too young to have ever watched her play live.
After a good few days exploring Vienna and other parts of Austria, I then moved on to Sofia. Michael wasn't covering the Bulgaria game, someone else was. Quidditch Weekly is an independent startup, so they don't have the same multi million galleon budget like the Prophet does. The Prophet can easily pay for me to attend every England away game, but Quidditch Weekly writers have to pay their own way, so Michael could only afford to go to Austria.
Thankfully no one stole the hairbrush that was used for my Sofia portkey, so I arrived there on time. It was a public holiday in Bulgaria's wizarding world, so the match was played at 12pm local time. After looking around the city for a couple hours, I decided to give the travelling England supporters an ultra special treat and make an appearance at their fanzone. After signing numerous autographs (and having one asked for in jest by Oliver Wood, now retired from playing too and attending as a fan himself. It was great to see him though, I hadn't for a couple years, so we talked for a good half an hour) I then made my way to the press box of the stadium, where I watched England take another comfortable win, this time 300-90. Petunia had an excellent performance, she's certainly a future legend in my opinion, for club and country. My portkey back to London left immediately after the game. I went straight to Hermione's parents house, where I'm now typing this for you all!
Now that I've said that, it's time to get back to the story of my teenage years! Let's return to 1992...
The day after Demelza's visit to the Burrow, we received our Hogwarts post, and for me, finally, the moment i'd been waiting for all my life, had arrived. My Hogwarts acceptance letter! I ripped it open eagerly. I'm sure you all know what a Hogwarts acceptance letter looks like, cause you've all read the books, so I'm not going to transcribe one here. If you must have some type of description, just imagine Harry's letter but with my name instead of his, and all of Lockhart's books listed in addition to the standard first year ones.
"Oh so you're not a squib after all then Gin" said Fred.
"Thank goodness, we were worried" added George.
"Oh shut up" I told them, rolling my eyes.
Fred, who had finished his own list, peered over at Harry's.
"You've been told to get all Lockhart's books, too!" he said. "The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher must be a fan — bet it's a witch." At this point, Fred caught mum's eye and quickly busied himself with the marmalade.
"That lot won't come cheap," said George, with a quick look at our parents. "Lockhart's books are really expensive. . . ."
"Well, we'll manage," said Mum but she looked worried. "I expect we'll be able to pick up a lot of Ginny's things second hand."
"Oh wonderful" I muttered to myself. Would I ever get something new again?
"Morning, all," said Percy briskly. "Lovely day."
He sat down in the only remaining chair but leapt up again almost immediately, pulling Errol, our family owl, from underneath him.
"Errol!" said Ron, taking the limp owl from Percy and extracting a letter from under its wing. "Finally — he's got Hermione's answer. I wrote to her saying we were going to try and rescue you from the Dursleys" he said to Harry.
He carried Errol to a perch just inside the back door and tried to stand him on it, but Errol flopped straight off again so Ron laid him on the draining board instead, muttering, "Pathetic." Then he ripped open Hermione's letter and read it out loud:
" 'Dear Ron, and Harry if you're there,
" 'I hope everything went all right and that Harry is okay and that you didn't do anything illegal to get him out, Ron, because that would get Harry into trouble, too. I've been really worried and if Harry is all right, will you please let me know at once, but perhaps it would be better if you used a different owl, because I think another delivery might finish your one off.
"'I'm very busy with schoolwork, of course' — How can she be?" said Ron in horror. "We're on holiday! — 'and we're going to London next Wednesday to buy my new books. Why don't we meet in Diagon Alley? "Let me know what's happening as soon as you can. Love from Hermione.' "
"Well, that fits in nicely, we can go and get all your things then, too," said Mum, starting to clear the table. "What're you all up to today?"
We were planning to go out to play Quidditch again, although this time without Demelza of course. We took turns riding Harry's Nimbus, which was obviously far superior to any of our brooms, and let me tell you it felt fucking incredible! We did ask Percy if he wanted to join us this time, but he said he was busy. What on earth was he up to in his room, taking up so much time that we only saw him at meals?
"Wish I knew what he was up to," said Fred, frowning. "He's not himself. His exam results came the day before you did; twelve O.W.L.s and he hardly gloated at all."
"Ordinary Wizarding Levels," George explained, seeing Harry's puzzled look. "Bill got twelve, too. If we're not careful, we'll have another Head Boy in the family. I don't think I could stand the shame."
"Dunno how Mum and Dad are going to afford all our school stuff this year," said George after a while. "Five sets of Lockhart books! And Ginny needs robes and a wand and everything."
I saw Harry looking awkward, and he said nothing. I knew why. His parents had left him a small fortune, and although he would gladly share it with us, of course we would never accept it.
Mum woke us all early the following Wednesday. After a quick half a dozen bacon sandwiches each, we pulled on our coats and Mum took a flowerpot off the kitchen mantelpiece and peered inside.
"We're running low, Arthur," she sighed. "We'll have to buy some more today. . . . Ah well, guests first! After you, Harry dear!"
And she offered him the flowerpot.
Harry stared at us.
"W-what am I supposed to do?" he stammered.
"He's never travelled by Floo powder," said Ron suddenly. "Sorry,
Harry, I forgot."
"Never?" said Dad. "But how did you get to Diagon Alley to buy your school things last year?"
"I went on the Underground —"
"Really?" said Dad eagerly. "Were there escapators? How exactly —"
"Not now, Arthur," said Mum. "Floo powder's a lot quicker, dear, but goodness me, if you've never used it before —"
"He'll be all right, Mum," I said . "Harry, watch us first." I took a pinch of the powder and threw it into the flames. With a roar, the fire turned emerald green and rose higher than me. I stepped right into it, shouted, "Diagon Alley!" and vanished.
I emerged into the Leaky Calderon, and one by one, everyone else in my family emerged behind me, but there was no sign of Harry.
"Where's Harry got to?" said Ron, voicing everyone's thoughts.
"Have you seen Harry Potter come out of this fireplace?" I asked Tom the barman, but he shook his head.
"Shit" I muttered, not wanting Mum to hear me swearing.
"Right, let's all go into the Alley and look in each shop in turn" said Mum.
"Mum, that could take all day" moaned Fred.
"If you have an alternative suggestion, I'm sure we'd all love to hear it" she replied.
Begrudgingly I had to agree with her there.
We had only searched 2 shops however, when Dad said "Hold on, isn't that Harry up there next to Gringotts with Hagrid?"
We all looked and sure enough, it was. We all ran up there, but a bushy haired girl got there just ahead of us. From the way she was talking to them happily, I gathered that this had to be Hermione Granger.
Mum and I were the last of us to make it.
"Oh, Harry — oh, my dear — you could have been any-
where —"
Gasping for breath she pulled a large clothes brush out of her bag and began sweeping off the soot Hagrid hadn't managed to beat away. Dad took Harry's glasses, gave them a tap of his wand, and returned them, good as new.
"Well, gotta be off," said Hagrid, who was having his hand wrung by Mum ("Knockturn Alley! If you hadn't found him, Hagrid!"). "See yer at Hogwarts!" And he strode away, head and shoulders taller than anyone else in the packed street.
"Guess who I saw in Borgin and Burkes?" Harry asked Ron, Hermione and I as we climbed the Gringotts steps. "Malfoy and his father."
"Did Lucius Malfoy buy anything?" said Dad sharply behind us.
"No, he was selling —"
"So he's worried," said Dad with grim satisfaction. "Oh, I'd love to get Lucius Malfoy for something. . . ."
"You be careful, Arthur," said Mum sharply as we were bowed into the bank by a goblin at the door.
"That family's trouble. Don't go biting off more than you can chew —"
"So you don't think I'm a match for Lucius Malfoy?" said Dad indignantly, but he was distracted almost at once by the sight of Hermione's parents, who were standing nervously at the counter that ran all along the great marble hall, waiting for Hermione to introduce them.
"But you're Muggles!" said Dad delightedly. "We must have a drink! What's that you've got there? Oh, you're changing Muggle money. Molly, look!" He pointed excitedly at the ten-pound notes in Mr. Granger's hand.
"Meet you back here," Ron said to Hermione as my family, Harry and I were led off to our underground vaults by another Gringotts Goblin.
Gringotts vaults are reached by means of small, goblin-driven carts that speed along minature train tracks through the bank's underground tunnels. Harry seemed to enjoy the breakneck journey down to our vault. I personally hate those carts, I always feel sick when riding them. Then we had to endure the awkwardness surrounding the very different contents of our respective vaults. Inside ours, there was a very small pile of silver Sickles, and just one gold Galleon. Mum felt right into the corners before sweeping the whole lot into her bag. Harry looked like he felt even worse when we reached his vault. He tried to block the contents from view as he hastily shoved handfuls of coins into a leather bag.
Back outside on the marble steps, we all separated. Percy muttered vaguely about needing a new quill. Fred and George had spotted their friend from Hogwarts, Lee Jordan. Mum and I were going to a second hand robe shop. Dad was insisting on taking the Grangers off to the Leaky Cauldron for a drink.
"We'll all meet at Flourish and Blotts in an hour to buy your schoolbooks," said Mum as we set off. "And not one step down Knockturn Alley!" she shouted at the twins' retreating backs.
"What's the big deal about Knockturn Alley?" I asked.
"Oh it's dreadful down there, Ginny. So many dodgy shops and people, you really don't want to or need to mix with anything in that street. Thank Merlin Hagrid was there to rescue Harry, I dread to think what could have happened otherwise".
After we had bought my robes, which were actually slightly too big, but were the closest size we could get, and my cauldron and potion supplies, we headed to Ollivanders so I could finally get my long awaited wand. Mum had to drag me away from Quality Quidditch Supplies. I'd been trying every year since I was 6 to get a replica Harpies kit, but Mum had never allowed it due to the cost. Perhaps Demelza had it and would let me try it on when I was next at her house, as we do have very similar clothes sizes.
When we entered Ollivanders, I had a weird sense of foreboding, as the shop was dimly lit, and Ollivander himself looked about 150. He looked at Mum first, and said
"Your latest child, Molly?"
"Yes, and my final one, you'll be pleased to hear" she replied, chuckling. "This is Ginny, I've finally had a daughter at the 7th attempt!"
"You wanted a daughter most of all?" I asked.
"Yes"
I smiled smugly.
"Well, shall we get cracking, then?" he said, and bought out some wands for me to try. I tested about 20 before we found the right one.
"14 and one eighth inches, yew. That'll be good for hexes" he said.
"Don't get any ideas, Ginny" came from mum as she paid, but I had plenty of ideas of course.
It was now time to meet everyone at Flourish and Blotts.
We were by no means the only ones making their way to the bookshop. As we approached it, we saw to our surprise a large crowd jostling outside the doors, trying to get in. The reason for this was proclaimed by a large banner stretched across the upper windows:
GILDEROY LOCKHART
will be signing copies of his autobiography
MAGICAL ME
today 12:30 p.m. to 4:30 p.m.
The crowd seemed to be made up mostly of witches around Mum's age. A long line wound right to the back of the shop, where Gilderoy Lockhart was signing his books. I grabbed a copy of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1 and we lined up with the rest of our family and Hermione's parents. Eventually, Harry, Ron and Hermione joined the queue with us.
"Oh, there you are, good," said Mum. She sounded breathless and kept patting her hair. "We'll be able to see him in a minute. . . ."
I rolled my eyes and got chatting with Hermione while we waited.
"Honestly" I muttered to her "I don't know who Mum thinks she's kidding, when she says she doesn't fancy him" and now in my normal voice, "I'm Ginny by the way, starting at Hogwarts myself this year. You must be Hermione Granger". Hermione looked somewhat insulted herself at the first part of my sentence, but thankfully chose to ignore it.
"Yes I am, lovely to meet you" she said, and we shook hands. "Are you excited for Hogwarts?"
"You bet I am! I've been looking forward to it my whole life, I just hope it's as amazing as everyone claims!"
"Oh trust me it is amazing, though you may not want to believe everything you hear about it, I would recommend a book called Hogwarts: A History if you want to know the full facts before you get there. You can borrow my copy if you want!"
"Thanks" I said "but I've waited this long in life just to see it for myself, so I think I can wait a couple more weeks. Is it true that Harry and Ron saved you from a mountain troll last year?"
"It is indeed, that's how we became best friends. They rescued me, then I covered up for them to stop them getting in trouble, told the teachers I went looking for it myself. We both saved the other in effect, so we had to be friends after that."
"Wow" was all I could say to that.
Gilderoy Lockhart came slowly into view, seated at a table surrounded by large pictures of his own face, 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.
My immediate reaction was one of disgust, as this had to be the vainest and most self obsessed man in history, yet Mum and Hermione were giving him looks of the utmost admiration! What on earth was wrong with them?! 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 and then he saw Harry. He stared.
Then he leapt to his feet and positively shouted, "It can't be Harry Potter?"
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 (I gave him a sympathetic look) as Lockhart shook his hand for the photographer, who was clicking away madly, wafting thick smoke all over us.
"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 tried to move back over to us, but Lockhart threw an arm around his shoulders and clamped him tightly to his side.
"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. "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!"
"Are you fucking serious?!" I exclaimed to Hermione. "This guy, a Professor?"
Mum turned to face me with a fiery look "If I ever hear you say something like that again, you will be in your room for a whole week, do you understand me?" she hissed.
I could only nod.
"Yeah you ought to show some respect Ginny, the man has done so many amazing things!" added Hermione.
I bit my lip. Yes, he apparently had done, but I really wasn't sure I believed this. His behaviour didn't look like that of such a person. I wasn't going to voice these thoughts out loud in front of the man himself though, not when I had no proof. I decided to keep my mouth shut- for now. I couldn't wait for the satisfaction of being proved right when he turned out to be a lousy professor.
The crowd cheered and clapped, which thankfully drowned out my bad language from reaching Lockhart's ears, and Harry found himself being presented with his entire works. Staggering slightly under their weight, he managed to make his way out of the limelight to the edge of the room, where I was now standing next to my cauldron.
"You have these," Harry mumbled to me , tipping the books into my cauldron. "I'll buy my own —" I was about to protest, but I was interrupted.
"Bet you loved that, didn't you, Potter?". Harry straightened up and found himself face-to-face with someone who had to be 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."
"Leave him alone, you little git, he didn't want all that!" I said.
"Potter, you've got yourself a girlfriend!" drawled Malfoy.
"Actually, no we're just friends" I said, but Malfoy ignored this.
Ron and Hermione fought their way over, both clutching stacks of Lockhart's books.
"Oh, it's you," said Ron, looking at Malfoy as if he were some-
thing 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 and I started towards him, but Harry and Hermione held us back, frustratingly. I knew I had to give him some payback at Hogwarts.
"Ron, Ginny! said Dad, 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 Dad, 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 my 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?"
Dad flushed darkly.
"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 Mr. and Mrs. Granger, who were watching apprehensively.
"The company you keep, Weasley . . . and I thought your family could sink no lower —"
There was a thud of metal as my cauldron went flying, Dad 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, as well as myself, after Mum has stopped me trying to join in.
Mum 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 Dad and Mr. Malfoy apart. Dad had a cut lip and Mr. Malfoy had been hit in the eye by an Encyclopedia of Toadstools. He was still holding my old Transfiguration book. He thrust it at me, his eyes glittering with malice.
"Here, girl — take your book — it's the best your father can give you —" Pulling himself out of Hagrid's grip he beckoned to Draco and swept from the shop.
"Yeh should've ignored him, Arthur," said Hagrid, almost lifting Dad 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 us 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 shaking with fright and Mum beside herself with fury. "A fine example to set for your children . . . brawling in public . . . what Gilderoy Lockhart must've thought —"
"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-"
But it was a subdued group that headed back to the fireside in the Leaky Cauldron, where Harry, my family, I and all our shopping would be traveling back to the Burrow using Floo powder. We said good-bye to the Grangers, who were leaving the pub for the Muggle street on the other side; Dad started to ask them how bus stops worked, but stopped quickly at the look Mum's face. Harry took off his glasses and put them safely in his pocket before helping himself to Floo powder.
"It's not my favourite way to travel" he told me when I asked for his opinion. When we got home, Dad went out to the garage, and I followed him.
"Dad, I thought you beating up Mr. Malfoy back there was fucking brilliant" I said. He didn't condemn my language, but simply gave me a one armed hug and said
"Glad you enjoyed it, Ginbug".