Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It’s so cold. Why is it so cold, Tom?

Ginny wakes with a start, a deep chill settling over her, the darkness of the room reminding her almost immediately where she is. Not a room, but the Chamber. And she remembers Tom, leading her down here, promising that once she helped him with one last task, one last special task was all he asked, she could return to the surface, to the warm Great Hall and the crackling, fire-lit common room of Gryffindor Tower.

And then she couldn’t remember, another horrifying blackness overtaking her once again as Tom’s soft smile turned sharp with malice, and he whispered to her as she lost consciousness that her filthy, traitorous blood would serve a purpose for once, that she would be useful for once in her empty, short life.

Maybe it was because he’d been filling her head with comforting words and assurances that he was truly her friend, but this act felt like the deepest betrayal. And maybe it was also because of the blackouts that he’d tried to explain away, the rage and hatred she heard in his words sometimes when she did not do what he wanted, but some small part of her remarked as the blackness came on again that she should have seen this coming, silly girl, should have known his kindness was too good to be true.

That small part of her sounded a bit too much like Tom’s voice.

But now a face is coming into view, the black hair too messy to be Tom’s, the face too young, and then the glasses come into focus and it’s Harry, staring down at her and asking if she’s okay.

She isn’t sure how to respond except with a breathless nod.

He helps her to her feet, clutching a shining silver sword in one hand, and what looks like a giant tooth in the other. She sees the diary open on the ground, black ink seeping into its pages from a hole punched through the center. A shiver of satisfaction goes through her at the sight of the horrid thing destroyed, but the feeling is edged with remorse.

She pushes it down, not willing or able to process the juxtaposing emotions, and with Harry, and a radiant phoenix he calls Fawkes, they collect her brother, covered in dust and holding up a babbling Professor Lockhart.

The flight up to the surface of the school leaves her breathless and giddy, the wind in her face almost helping her forget the past hour. But as soon as they reach the bathroom—Myrtle flying off into a toilet stall upon their arrival—they are swarmed with teachers, McGonagall in the lead alongside Madam Pomfrey.

Ginny and Harry are swept through the corridors to the infirmary, Pomfrey fussing over them equally as they go, McGonagall sweeping off after making sure they are in good hands to send an owl off to her parents. In the infirmary, the following crowds are ushered out, and the two are left in silence while Pomfrey, after coercing promises that they will remain in their respective beds, goes off to get supplies.

Harry insists he’s fine, that she should check on Ginny first, and she shushes him before bustling off, muttering something about danger-prone students telling her how to do her job.

And then it’s just the two of them left alone, Harry still holding the two objects from the Chamber. She glances over at him, questions lingering on her tongue that, if she’s being honest, she’s a bit too afraid to ask.

But he sees her looking and sets the sword and tooth down on the bedside table between them.

“Are you alright?” he asks, genuine worry coloring his words.

She nods, not trusting herself to speak because now, as the adrenaline of the last few minutes leaves her system, her mind is truly beginning to spiral with the memory of the last year.

He doesn’t look convinced but doesn’t press, and after a few moments speaks up again. “I don’t know why, exactly, but I don’t think he’s coming back. Tom, I mean.”

Hearing someone else speak his name shocks her a bit, but the surety in Harry’s voice calms her.

He keeps talking, seemingly wanting to fill the emptiness with something. “I’m sorry you had to deal with all that alone. We, er, Ron and your brothers, they said you were just acting off because it was your first year, and that you were nervous after all the attacks. And you tried to tell us too, just before you… we just didn’t know what you were going through. But we still should’ve been there for you, and I’m sorry we weren’t.”

She nods again, swallowing hard. Tears prick her eyes as she thinks of her brothers, smiling and at ease in this loud, expansive place that felt so lonely to her this past year.

She wants to say something now, assure him that he couldn’t have known, he barely knew her after all, but then Pomfrey is back and checking on the both of them, every torn bit of clothing looked under for scratches to be healed, charms cast over them to check for unseen injuries. She’s given a potion to help restore her strength, and it only makes her woozy.

Pomfrey clears Harry, telling him Dumbledore needs to speak with him soon, and then she’s off to send for McGonagall and Ginny’s family. Harry hesitates before he leaves, grabbing the sword and tooth as if they were afterthoughts. Just as he’s about to turn away, Ginny reaches out and grabs his wrist.

She glances down at the tooth, then up to meet Harry’s questioning gaze. “Did you use that?” she asks, her voice shaking slightly. “To destroy the diary?”

He nods.

Ginny swallows, then proceeds with the question plaguing her mind since she saw the jagged hole torn through the pages and realized that’s what had banished Tom, and saved her. “Could… could I, um, keep it?”

He looks taken aback for a second.

“It’s just, that’s what killed Tom, right?” She lets the rest of her words hang in the air, the implication of safety that the tooth, the fang, provides.

After a moment's hesitation, he nods again, setting it back down on the table. She lets her arm drop, exhaustion flooding through her as the potion takes effect.

“Thank you,” she mumbles, and through her drooping eyelids, she sees Harry give her a small smile. Then the blackness, this time calming and promising a deep sleep, overtakes her once again.

—

Weak.

The voice worms its way into her dreams. A happy memory—laughing with her brothers at the start of the year, after she’d been sorted into Gryffindor, before everything else started—becomes corrupted with his voice.

Do you think they will ever look at you the same? They will never see you as their little sister again. You are only what I made you. Heir of Slytherin, enemy of Mudbloods, someone to be feared.

No. No, you’re wrong. But her protests only made the voice stronger.

You can open the Chamber again. You know how. That Potter boy is insignificant. I can return, with your help.

No.

Help me, Ginny. Come to me.

She wakes with a scream dying on her lips, startling the people sitting at her bedside.

Fred, George, Percy, Ron, all of them sitting two on either side. Concern radiates off each one, but the twins share matching smiles at her dramatic awakening.

“How are you feeling Gin?” Ron asks, leaning over and worriedly scanning her face as if assessing her health.

“Little Ronniekins here has been worried sick over you,” Fred teases.

“A right mother hen,” George adds with a smile, reaching across the bed and tousling Ron’s hair as he scowls at the pair.

Percy shoots the twins a long-suffering look. “We are all happy to see you awake, Ginny.”

“Don’t hurt yourself with all that emotion, Perce,” George says as Ron bats his hand away.

Despite the lingering whisper of the voice from her dream, Ginny manages a laugh at her brother’s antics.

“Is she up? I told you all to alert me if she woke up. Move, out of my way, or I will remove you from the room myself.” Madam Pomfrey shoos Fred and George off, the pair of them mimicking her behind her back to make Ginny giggle again, and Ron and Percy back away without any trouble. As they move away, she gets a clearer view of the rest of the infirmary. Now she can see what she hadn’t noticed earlier: all the beds are empty.

She looks to her brothers to ask them where everyone is, but the four are moving off toward the door. Ron waves back at Ginny, saying something about going to get her some lunch. She waves back, her hand falling as the door closes behind the noisy bunch and the infirmary falls silent aside from Pomfrey’s movements.

Left with no choice, she turns to the witch. “Where is everyone? The students who were, um, petrified I mean?”

Madam Pomfrey shoots her a sympathetic look. “Professor Sprout’s crop of Mandrake was finally ready yesterday evening, and I administered the antidotes to the students this morning. They are all fine, Miss Weasley, no need to worry.”

Ginny lets out a long breath. They are all safe.

But then she remembers. She’s the reason they were all petrified in the first place. How can she face any of them, how can she see Penelope or Colin again, or face Hermione, after what she did to them?

As if she can sense the worrying thoughts plaguing Ginny’s mind, Pomfrey sighs and turns to face her after finishing off one last charm. “Miss Weasley, I may not know exactly what it was you went through this year. But I do know this: you did not mean any harm to your schoolmates. You were not the one who hurt them. Though it may take some time for them to see this, I encourage you to make things right with them, and they will see the truth eventually as well.”

Ginny nods, her tongue leaden in her mouth. Pomfrey gives her one last appraising look, then gathers the bottles she’d brought with her. “Professor McGonagall has sent word to your parents and informed them you are safe and well. You are free to leave now if you wish. I can see no injuries external or internal.” She pauses. “I cannot help cure bad memories. I cannot help you learn to shut them out or take away their power. But I have heard of some Muggles who train in the art of healing the mind. If you wish it, and if you need it, I have a few names to give you who can help.”

Ginny manages a small, “Thank you,” and then Pomfrey is walking back into her office.

Sitting up carefully, she swings her legs over the edge of the bed, breathing slowly to calm the beating of her heart. Looking at the table, she sees the fang sitting there, black ink dried and staining the tip. She grabs it, staring at it for a moment, and then she’s off the bed, tucking the fang into a pocket for safekeeping. It killed Tom once, and even if she can’t use it to banish the memory of him in her mind, having it with her already makes her feel safe.

Squaring her shoulders and steeling her nerves, Ginny pushes open the doors to the infirmary.

—

Ginny collapses onto her bed with a heavy sigh. Staring up at the canopy above her, she lets all the tension and stress from the day drain out of her. She hears some of the other girls that she shares the dorm with enter, but can’t muster the strength to reach up and close the curtains around her bed, so instead, she closes her eyes and pretends this makes her invisible to them.

She can hear a few of the girls, likely Sinead and Laura, whispering as they pass her bed. But there is no sound from Rebecca as she sits down softly on her bed, the one closest to the door. The other two move to their beds, dropping off their books before the end-of-the-year feast. After a few minutes, the pair leave. Jennifer, the fifth girl in their dorm, bursts in, practically throwing her books in her trunk before racing out again.

And then it's just Ginny and Rebecca.

Over the course of the school year, the pair formed a tentative friendship. They had all their classes together, of course, and neither was very interested in being friends with the other three girls. The feeling seemed mutual. So the two had begun to stick together, eating meals together, walking together to each class, and occasionally chatting about missing their families, or about their classes.

It was nice.

A moment of silence passes, then the bed next to her shifts as Rebecca leans forward.

“I don’t mean to pry, or anything, but I want you to know that my mum is a Muggle therapist, so, if you ever like, need someone to talk to about what happened this year…” her voice trails off hesitantly, and Ginny opens her eyes.

Rebecca must have seen this, and falls silent, waiting for a response.

After a moment, she asks, “What’s a therapist?”

“Oh. A therapist is… like a doctor who can help you with your mind, I guess. My mum always tells me that people only focus on physical health, but mental health is just as important.”

Ginny nods. This must have been what Madam Pomfrey was talking about.

“That’s… thank you.” She doesn’t know what else to say.

“No problem.” Another silence falls, and after the lifeline that Rebecca has just given her, Ginny’s skin crawls with guilt that after a year of hesitant friendship, this is the best conversation they can manage.

So, mustering her strength, she sits up. Turning to Rebecca, watching her wide-eyed from her bed, she offers a tentative smile.

“Want to go to the Great Hall? I’m starving, and I don’t want to miss our first last feast.”

Rebecca smiles back.

—

The ride back home from Hogwarts is a quiet one. Rebecca, who insists Ginny call her Becca, and Ginny sit begrudgingly with their dormmates who alternate between whispering about Ginny when they think she can’t hear and asking her various questions about Harry.

“What’s he like, really?”

“Well, he’s very quiet actually.”

“And polite? I heard he’s very chivalrous.”

“I suppose, yes.”

“Does he talk about his family much? I bet someone who lost their parents so young would be all tragic and broody, is he like that?”

“Not really, no. He doesn’t talk much about his family.”

Unsatisfied with her answers, most of which are lackluster due to her truly not knowing what to say, the girls settle on a topic amongst the three of them, and Ginny and Becca make small conversation for the remainder of the trip. At one point, her brother passes by with Harry and Hermione in tow, the three waving to her and sending the other girls giggling.

Ginny’s face flushes as she waves back, giving Becca a pained look when they move on.

And then they are home. Ron and Harry find Ginny in the crowd, waving to Becca as she departs with her father toward the wall between platforms nine and ten. They make their way through the bustle of people around them, finding the twins and Percy somewhere along the way. Eventually, over the noise of the crowd, Percy calls out to their parents and their small groups meet, Molly throwing her arms around Ginny as soon as they reach each other.

Normally, Ginny would feel embarrassed by the display, but right now she needs the comfort of her mum and leans into the hug.

“Come along Weasleys,” her father calls, and they slowly make their way toward the exit, the twins already chattering about the year, how amazing Harry did during the Quidditch season, how foolish Malfoy looked preening on his Nimbus two-thousand and one while Harry went for the snitch hovering right next to his head. Nothing is said about the Chamber, the petrifications, or Ginny’s part in it, but the knowledge hangs over the group all the same.

Molly’s arm stays around Ginny the entire way home, removed only once to hug Harry goodbye before he sets off to meet with his aunt, uncle, and cousin, who view the Weasley clan with looks of barely contained horror. Fred and George simply smile widely at them as the group passes, Harry barely containing his own amusement at the twins’ obvious attempt to unnerve the Muggle family even more. It’s a testament to Molly’s dislike of Harry’s family and her general concern for comforting Ginny that she doesn’t chastise the two, instead pretending she had no knowledge of their tormenting.

Ginny smiles to herself, slowly but surely feeling as though everything might start to look up, now that she is finally home safe and sound.

Chapter Text

Weak girl. Do you think you are safe at home with your blood-traitor family? You can never be free of me. That boy may have destroyed my diary, but he can never destroy the memory of me in your head. Not even your precious fang can do that for you.

I will always be here.

Listening. Watching. Waiting.

You cannot escape me.

Ginny jolts awake in the darkness. Her heart is beating loudly, blood pounding in her ears. Her hands claw the sheets off her body, drenched in sweat and shaking. Frantic, needing fresh air, she moves for the window, dragging it open and gulping the cool air into her lungs.

Molly bursts into the room, sees her daughter slumped against the windowsill, and instead of asking questions, she walks to her. A flick of her wand draws over a desk chair and she takes Ginny into her lap, holding her close as Ginny shakes and shakes, and breaths slowly through her nose.

Minutes or hours later, when the tremor in Ginny’s muscles is a distant memory, Molly helps her back to bed. She presses a soft kiss to her forehead and pulling over the chair to the bedside, she sits holding Ginny’s hand.

Ginny doesn’t know when she drifts off, but then light is tickling her eyelids and she opens them to see her mum, head lowered to her chest in sleep, sitting beside her bed, their hands still clasped together.

That morning, Ginny mentions Muggle therapy to Molly, and later that day an owl is sent off to Becca, inquiring about meeting with her mum.

—

“So, Ginny, how have your dreams been recently?” Ms Hussain asks from where she sits across the small room. Her dark brown eyes meet Ginny’s, and she is struck once again by how similar the lady sitting before her looks to her daughter. The two have the same deep umber skin, the same dark brown eyes, the same build and nose. The main difference is that where Ms Hussain’s face is narrow, Becca’s is angular, and where Becca’s black hair falls in straight strands down her back, Ms Hussain’s is short and tightly curled. Becca has the hair and face of her father, a kind, older man Ginny met just after they got off the train.

After a moment, Ginny realizes Ms Hussain is waiting for a response, and her face flushes a bit as she looks down at her hands, twisting in her lap. It’s not that she’s uncomfortable around the woman, but talking about her emotions, her innermost thoughts and feelings is not something that has come easy to Ginny, despite the twice weekly meetings the two have had for the last month.

Ginny shrugs. “They’re better, I suppose.” Not entirely true, but the past two nights she didn’t wake up every member of the household by screaming bloody murder, so it’s a start at least. She explains this to Ms Hussain, who nods.

“I know it may not seem like it right now Ginny, but this is progress.”

Ginny nods, but she’s still unsure. This is good for her, she knows it, but that still doesn’t stop the fear that at some point, they will hit a wall. At some point, she is sure, the rhythmic breathing and the happy place in her mind and all the other techniques they’ve been practicing might cease to be enough.

She voiced this concern to Ms Hussain once about a week ago when she was feeling particularly unsure about everything. She’d been assured that worry was normal and that as long as she kept up her practice, over time it would become easier, more natural.

So she did the best she could. And it had started to work, she supposed, if the lack of screaming meant anything.

They end the session a few minutes later, and Ginny walks down the stairs, eyes flicking over the still Muggle photos hanging on the pale, sky-blue wall. Molly was waiting in the sitting room at the bottom of the stairs, busy at work knitting what was likely a jumper for Christmas.

Across from her sits a thin woman behind a desk. Her eyes move in a continuous motion from a very large, pale-colored box in front of her to the witch sitting before her. Molly pays the woman no mind, looking up at the soft noise of Ginny’s feet on the floor. She hesitates a second, clearly resisting the urge to pull out her wand and magic her knitting needles and yarn away, instead stowing them in a bag she’s been bringing to appear less out of the ordinary. A small smile tugs at Ginny’s lips at the sight of her mum still working on resisting that habit, and Molly nods once to the woman sitting at the desk, who simply stares back, before placing an arm protectively around Ginny as they exit.

They walk a few blocks through the small town, before ducking into an alleyway so Molly and apparate them back to the Burrow. Ginny’s stomach rolls at the feeling, but, like sharing her innermost thoughts with Ms Hussain, the effects of side-along apparition have been a discomfort she’s strangely gotten used to over the past month.

The Burrow stands silently, waiting for their return. Near the end of the term, Arthur had won seven hundred Galleons in the Daily Prophet Grand Prize Galleon Draw, and he and Molly had planned a wonderful getaway for the whole family: a visit to Egypt and Ginny’s oldest brother Bill, who was currently there for work. The whole family had been so looking forward to it, all of them back together for the first time since Bill and Charlie’s jobs had taken them far away from the country and even visits for the holidays became difficult to manage.

But Ginny’s nightmares early on in the summer, and the resulting need for regular sessions with Ms Hussain, meant she and Molly stayed behind in England while the boys went with their dad to Egypt.

Ginny had felt terrible for keeping her mum from seeing her eldest sons, but Molly had insisted that the boys would understand and that she wanted to be there for Ginny, and that had been that.

So now the Burrow is quiet as Ginny has never seen it before. The usual hustle and bustle of seven people filling a single house always made the Burrow feel like home to her, and it’s strange to come back to it after each session and not hear upon approaching the door a yell or two as brothers clashed in the halls, or the sound of some loud bang from Arthur’s shed—full of Muggle objects he spent weekends fiddling with—that they all pretend is full of tools.

But it has also been peaceful. With all her brothers out of the house, Ginny can finally practice Quidditch without needing to sneak about behind their backs and steal their brooms like she’s been doing since she was six. She has taken up a regular morning routine, preparing for the Quidditch tryouts that are coming up with the next school year. Harry had been given special treatment, what with his innate knack for the seeker position and Gryffindor’s desperation for someone to fill that role, but Ginny cannot hope for such things.

She knows that all three chaser positions are filled, and knows that the girls currently on the team are all skilled and have been playing for years. But this is the first year Ginny is allowed to even hope for a spot on the team or even the reserve, and so every morning she’s out in the pasture near the Burrow, running a few laps—she took on that exercise after running through drills and tiring out quickly before remembering her brothers complaining about the endless laps Wood has them run each practice—and then moving on to running through as many drills as she can remember. Having never been to a professional Quidditch game, only the Hogwarts house competitions, and having no possession of a book of Quidditch drills and strategies, she can only go off her memory of watching her brothers play when she was younger.

The days pass slowly, filled with Quidditch practice and therapy sessions and knitting with her mum—a craft that Ginny has no talent for, though Molly insists she will get the hang of eventually—and helping Molly around the house and in the garden. Molly leaves the de-gnoming to Ginny, commenting on how much fun she used to have doing the task with her brothers. Ginny flings another gnome over the fence and sighs because, without someone else there to share the activity with, it quickly loses its humor.

—

Finally, the boys and Arthur return from Egypt, just in time for her birthday. Originally the plan was to celebrate abroad, but due to the circumstances the trip was cut short so Ginny and Molly weren’t left celebrating alone.

It works out just fine, Molly comments, because with less money spent on the trip comes more money to spend on school supplies this year.

So the family is back together in the Burrow for the first week of August. Ginny is glad to have the noise back, though she still slips out in the early mornings to run and practice her drills. She just may do so with a tad more caution not to let her brothers find out.

Her birthday falls on a Wednesday this year. Arthur manages to get off of work a little earlier than usual, and he and Percy set up the table outside for the dinner, stringing up little glowing lanterns Molly conjured that day. At their mum’s insistence, Ron joins her in the kitchen, helping her prepare the dinner and decorate the cake. Fred and George tease him about it for about five seconds before Ron brandishes a rolling pin at them and Molly yells at the pair to go help Arthur and Percy with the decorations.

Ginny watches it all with a smile, left to her own devices since, as the birthday girl, she is exempt from the preparational tasks. Presents go quickly, her dad and the boys handing over a few small trinkets picked up from Egypt, some from them and some from Bill and Charlie that are passed along with their regrets that they couldn’t make it and well wishes.

The cake is two layers, each with six candles, decorated with blue frosting with white piping. After stuffing themselves with Molly’s cooking, she sends the others inside to start cleaning up, pulling Ginny aside.

Ginny is confused for a moment, but then her mum hands over a final present, a rectangle carefully wrapped with a big bow tied around it. Opening it she finds a new copy of Quidditch Through the Ages. Unable to speak from nearly bursting with happiness, Ginny simply wraps her arms around her mum, letting the hug speak for itself.

—

Less than two weeks after Ginny’s birthday, they hold a celebration for Percy, and barely one week after that the family is packing up trunks full of supplies from previous years, leaving room for the new supplies the yearly Hogwarts owls warned would be needed for the approaching term, and the seven of them are off to the Leaky Cauldron.

They arrive the morning before their train ride back to Hogwarts, and after putting her things in her room Ginny comes downstairs for breakfast only to find Harry, Ron, and Hermione sitting at the table. Harry gives her a tentative smile in greeting, and before she can do so much as nod in response, a whisper of, weak, is snaking its way through her mind. She freezes midway to the table, before turning on her heel and hurrying off, her face burning from embarrassment, her mind racing.

Ms Hussain had said at their last session less than a week ago that, with the continual practice of her techniques, Ginny could maintain the progress they had made over the summer. Molly had needed convincing, and Ms Hussain had explained patiently that she saw no reason why Ginny could not return to Hogwarts, so long as was feeling up to it.

Ginny had insisted she was ready, that her nightmares were less frequent now, and that even when she did have one, she could calm herself down now, could remind herself that the memories were just that, a moment from the past that cannot hurt her. So Molly had relented, and Ginny was looking forward to embracing the freedom of once again attending Hogwarts, this time without the worry of a diary filled with the manipulative memory of a vile sixteen-year-old.

But now, the mere sight of Harry sent that voice back into her mind. She shivers, ducking toward the fire in the main room of the Cauldron.

“You are fine,” she whispers vehemently to herself, sinking down onto an empty chair and staring into the flickering light. She takes a deep, slow breath in through her nose, holding it for a count of four before slowly releasing it through her mouth. She repeats this, thinking of a time when she was six, and Bill taught her how to ride a broom. She lets the memory of time spent with her brother wash away the memory of Tom’s voice in her mind until she can stand without shaking, and hopefully face Harry without balking.

Walking back to the table, where Molly is setting plates of food down in front of everyone, she winces at the loud conversation between Ron and Hermione that hadn’t been happening when she’d left. Ron is raising a commotion about Hermione’s new cat almost eating Ron’s old rat Scabbers. Harry looks miserable trapped between the two, and Ginny shoots him a commiserate glance before sitting down on the other side of the table and tucking into the plate Molly set there.

The rest of the day passed by just as noisily, with Ron and Hermione bickering occasionally about their respective pets, Harry usually caught in between. Molly has to stop the twins from at one point planting a pink string tied to catnip outside Hermione’s door to trick the pair into thinking the cat actually caught the rat, and it is only at the end of the day when Ginny is collapsing back into her bed that any amount of silence finally falls, though, of course, this is only after Percy and Ron raise a fuss in their shared room about some misplaced possessions.

The morning of their return to Hogwarts is just as hectic as it would’ve been at the Burrow, this time perhaps more so with the addition of Harry and Hermione. Somehow, Molly manages to get all of her children plus the two friends out the door of the Cauldron on time, and they are rushing into King’s Cross Station twenty minutes to the hour, a little earlier than normal thanks to the cars provided to them by the Ministry.

It’s all hugs and kisses and promises to write and stay out of trouble—this is mostly directed at the twins, though it is said loud enough for the others to overhear—and then they are boarding. Percy leaves the rest of them immediately, likely on his way to snog his girlfriend or join the other Prefects. Lee Jordan waves at the twins from a compartment full of other students in their year, and then it's just Ginny with the other three. She can see Ron’s discomfort, trying to figure out a way to ditch his little sister without seeming like an arse, so Ginny does him a favor and heads off on her own, looking for Becca.

She’d seen a quick glimpse of her friend boarding earlier, and so she waves goodbye to the three, rolling her eyes at Ron’s barely concealed relief.

She passes a few cars full of other students from her year, a few new faces, and finally, she comes across Becca sitting once again with their other dormmates. Holding back her sigh, Ginny smiles and enters, sitting down next to Becca, who smiles in obvious relief at the sight of someone other than the three girls sitting across the car from her.

They start up an easy conversation about their respective summers, tactfully avoiding discussing Ginny’s biweekly sessions with her mother. The other girls pay them no mind, eventually getting up about halfway to the school to track down the trolly witch.

The compartment door closes and next to her Ginny hears a sigh of “finally.”

The pair fall into giggles, sharing in their dislike of the other three.

“Merlin, I thought Laura would never shut up about her trip to Majorca,” Ginny breathes through fits of laughter.

Becca snickers in agreement, but then her response is cut short as the train lurches to a halt. The two look around, confused, and Becca gets up to poke her head out the door, where the lanterns that flickered on earlier when the light outside dimmed have now gone out. Ginny watches the window as she does this, seeing a frost begin to creep over the glass. What is happening?

Becca lurches back from the door, a squeak of fright coming from her lips.

“There’s something in the hall,” she whispers, sinking down onto the cushioned seats. Ginny stands, ignoring the shaking in her limbs and Becca’s warnings, and goes to the door. She doesn’t open it, but peers out into the darkness, hoping to see exactly what is going on out there.

Something passes by the door so suddenly that she takes a step back, watching the floating figures draped in black cloaks move past. A feeling of deep despair settles over her as the shapes travel down the hall. And then, one of the shapes slows before the compartment, turning to face her. A deep hood prevents her from seeing the creature’s face, but she is sure at that moment that she doesn’t want to.

Before she can register what’s happening, a skeletal hand is reaching for the door, dragging it slowly open. Ginny can faintly hear the sounds of Becca trying to get her to move, but that despair has enveloped her so completely that she is sure there is no amount of energy she could muster to even step back.

A sucking noise echoes through the compartment, and Ginny’s heart skips a beat as a voice begins whispering in her mind. There’s a feeling like cold hands wrapping around her neck, and she suddenly sees not the creature before her, but Tom leaning over her. She’s on the ground, she realizes, and Tom is draining the life from her, slowly becoming more and more corporeal.

Weak. Cowardly. They will never look at you the same, never love you the same way. You are nothing but what I made you. My Heir of Slytherin.

And just as suddenly as the memory appeared, it is gone in a flash of blue-white light and now Becca is leaning over her, sobbing and shaking Ginny’s shoulders. Ginny gasps, suddenly able to take a breath.

Becca is trying to dry her tears now that Ginny is awake, out of the memory, and in between swipes at her eyes, she is asking questions Ginny has no answers to.

What was that? What happened?

I don’t know, Ginny responds silently, finally finding the energy to sit up and wrap her arms around Becca. They sit like that for a long time, shaking together in silence.

Chapter Text

The train resumes its regular movement after a while, chugging along to the school as if nothing went wrong. Becca and Ginny move back up to the seats, and eventually, Laura and the others stumble back in, laden with sweets but their usual chatter dimmed. Now they whisper among themselves about the shadowy figures. Ginny and Becca just listen in silence.

It’s dark when the train rolls into Hogsmeade. Ginny is unsure what to expect this year, knowing it is only the first years who took the boats, but last year she had been too in awe of the sight of the towering castle before her to notice where the older students went.

She and Becca change into their robes—Ginny wishes she hadn’t put the fang away in her trunk for safekeeping—and follow the stream of students chattering around them. Ginny watches the groups that form as students find their friends in the crowd. Most are grouped by house, though a few Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs are seen together.

Slowly, the crowd clears as they reach a clearing, and there they see a long row of horseless carriages. The two of them stick close to the other girls, not sure if they should aim to share a carriage with them or strike out on their own. Eventually, they decide to join the other three girls in one carriage, along with a few guys from their year. One of them, Ginny realizes with a stab of regret, is Colin Creevey.

He sees her staring, and she feels her face heat. Then he scoots over on the seat as if trying to put distance between them, and her stomach twists.

A push from behind from Becca has her climbing into the carriage, and the only place to sit without making the situation more awkward is next to Colin. With a small whisper of, “sorry,” she sits down next to him, keeping herself as small as possible, so as not to accidentally bump into his shoulder or knee.

He gives her a weird look, but she just ducks her head and fiddles with her wand the whole way up to the castle, letting the chatter of the other students wash over her.

Thankfully, the ride goes quickly and soon enough they are all piling out of the carriage and walking up through the main gates into the school. As she walks up with Becca, she feels a tap on her shoulder. Turning against the flow, Ginny sees Colin standing next to her awkwardly.

Before she can react he blurts out, “I don’t blame you. At all. I just, er, wanted you to know that.”

Ginny blinks.

Colin is fiddling with the end of his shirt, cheeks pink from the cold or embarrassment, she isn’t quite sure.

“Really?” she manages after a moment.

He nods. “Really.”

She sighs, relief coursing through her. “Good. Great. I, uh, I’m still sorry about what happened…”

“It wasn’t you,” he says quickly, like it was so easy for him to come to that conclusion. Like he hadn’t spent the entire summer processing what had happened and trying to separate the memories from each other.

“Ginny,” Becca calls from the entrance to the Great Hall. “You coming?”

Ginny turns to Colin, and he smiles at her.

“Yeah, coming,” she calls back, and the three of them walk in together.

—

Dementors, they are called. The horrid creatures who brought up carefully healed memories of the last year so easily it’s almost laughable.

Ginny forces the new memory from the train away, focusing instead on the excited chatter of the people around her. Becca and Colin are discussing some Muggle thing, a character that often represents death in corporeal form. A Grim Reaper, it’s called. Ginny can’t help but wonder how dark a person’s imagination must be to think up some creature so awful.

The three of them pass the trip back from the Great Hall to Gryffindor Tower in great excitement for the new term. It’s a strange thing, Ginny thinks, how quickly Colin’s forgiveness seems to bring him into Ginny and Becca’s small circle of friendship. She’s grateful though, grateful for whatever character trait of Colin’s made him so easily separate Ginny and Tom in his mind and offer her hope for possibly forgiving herself for the past year's events.

They reach the common room entrance, Percy speaking the new password—Fortuna Major—and the Fat Lady’s portrait swings open. Ginny sighs in relief as they enter the familiar common room, the crackling hearth and soft light cast over the shades of red and gold.

Some students stay about, chattering and catching up with each other, but as soon as Ginny steps inside the room she feels a wave of exhaustion crash over her. She tells Becca she’s going to head up early, waves to her brothers as she goes, and starts up the stairs. Her trunk, like last year, is waiting for her when she makes it to the dormitory. She goes to unpack a little, changing into her pajamas as she does.

Reaching into the endless depths searching for her new copy of Quidditch Through the Ages, her hand instead finds a smooth, curved surface, and she pulls out the fang. She has no idea what use it could have against dementors, if any at all, but she tucks it under her pillow for comfort nonetheless.

The close proximity of the fang helps her feel safe enough to fully relax, and she drifts into a troubleless sleep.

—

“Passably average, Miss Hussain. Undeniably awful, Miss Weasley.”

Snape sneers down into her cauldron, where her best attempt at a swelling solution bubbles, a lime green color rather than the yellow it should be. She squares her shoulders though, and meets the professor’s eyes as he watches for any sign that his words hit their mark. Finally, he sweeps off to critique the next table’s attempt, and Ginny shoots Colin a commiserating glance and Snape levels a barrage of insults at the boy’s potion.

“Passably average?” She seethes later to Becca as they walk from the room through the dungeons. “Passably average my arse. Yours was the best swelling solution there! Certainly much better than some of the vile those Slytherins produced. And of course, he was fawning over their cauldrons like they were some sort of prodigies.”

Becca just shakes her head at Ginny’s rant. “But “passably average” is the closest thing to a compliment Snape has given to any Gryffindor in our class. I know my potion was the best one, and he does too. But he hates Gryffindors, so of course he barely acknowledged it. It makes perfect sense.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Ginny grumbled, but she had to admit her friend was right. Snape was not one for giving out compliments to Gryffindors, so “passably average” was probably the best Becca could hope for.

“And besides, if he’s trying to break my spirit or something he can keep it up. I love potions, and I’m good at that class, and one day he will have to accept that I’m his best student. I can’t wait to see the day that dawns on him.”

Ginny has to smile that the determination in her friend’s eyes, and so she keeps her personal opinions on their prat of a professor to herself.

It’s their second week of the term now, and life at Hogwarts has settled into a normal rhythm. Potions is insufferable, History of Magic is tragically boring, Transfiguration and Charms are relatively fine, Herbology and Astronomy are interesting enough—Defense Against the Dark Arts is the class Ginny surprisingly finds herself having the most fun in. As the newest professor at the school following Lockhart’s unfortunate run-in with her brother’s backfiring wand and an Obliviate spell, Professor Lupin is now teaching the class, and quickly becoming a favorite of nearly everyone.

His first lesson was cornish pixies, and this lesson, Ginny remarked to Ron at dinner that night, had not ended with the teacher running away and leaving his students to clean up the mess. He had simply muttered something about how it wasn’t his fault that Lockhart was a daft git. This remark warranted a smack on the arm from Hermione and an appreciative chuckle from Harry.

Now, Ginny, Becca, and Colin make their way with the rest of the Gryffindors, and unfortunately, Slytherins to the DADA classroom where Lupin waits. He welcomes them all in with a smile and waits until they are all sitting and at attention, a feat that takes a few moments as some students snicker amongst themselves about their professor’s tattered clothes.

Finally, when they’ve all fallen silent, Lupin begins his lesson.

“Today,” he announces, “We will be learning the disarming charm. It’s a simple charm, but one that every wizard should have in the repertoire.” His eyes scan the rows of eager students, and from them, he picks out Colin. “Mr. Creevey, if you could kindly join me up here for a moment.”

Colin stands up, shooting an excited look at Ginny and Becca, and goes up to the front with Lupin. The two stand across from each other, and Lupin instructs Colin to hold out his wand as if he were going to hex the professor.

As Colin does so, Lupin, with a bare flick of his wrist and a clear, “Expelliarmus!” sends Colin’s wand flying out of his hand. The look of surprise on Colin’s face sets the class giggling, and Lupin claps the boy on the back and sends him to retrieve his wand, telling the rest of them to get into pairs and practice.

“Remember to speak clearly when you say the spell,” he reminds them. “Even the best concentration is nothing without the words.”

Ginny and Becca take turns, trying at casting the spell on each other. Neither of them gets very far, though Becca comments afterward to Ginny that she could have sworn she felt her wand move of its own accord at one point.

At dinner, she sees Wood corner Harry and the twins about tryouts, which are coming up in the next few weeks. It sounds as though Wood is put off about even needing to go through with them, but a few younger students expressed an interest and McGonagall asked that he at least humor them. The sudden reminder of how little time she has to prepare jolts through her, and for the rest of the evening, her mind is spinning, trying to figure out how to manage a place to practice so her skills are as sharp as possible.

After dinner, she begs off returning to the common room in favor of going to the library. She knew that getting a chance to practice on the pitch would be difficult, but maybe there was some other part of the grounds where she could go to sharpen up her flying. And if not, she would just have to hope Madam Hooch was in a charitable mood, pluck up her courage, and ask to borrow a broom.

It is on her way to the library when, lost in thought, she realizes she’s missed a turn and walked too far down the corridor from where she should have ended up. Turning back, and muttering to herself, she sees a flash of something out of the corner of her eye. Ginny turns expecting to see another student or even Filch’s nosy cat, but instead finds an unassuming door. It’s in the middle of an otherwise blank wall, which she could have sworn was completely blank just moments ago.

Chalking it up to the strange magic of Hogwarts, Ginny continues on her way and completely forgets about the encounter.

A week later, when she is once again wandering to the library—this time to meet up with Becca and Colin—and once again pondering where she could practice for the upcoming trials, she passes another blank wall. This time, as she turns around, she sees the door appear. It comes from out of nowhere, one moment not there, the next suddenly a solid thing in the wall.

And this time, Ginny’s curiosity gets the better of her. Approaching slowly, she tries the handle of the door, which is rather ornate considering the lack of decoration on the wood.

The handle creaks and the door groans as she opens it, and she is faced with what she at first assumes is the Gryffindor common room. Upon further inspection, however, she realizes that the decor of the room is not red and gold but all the colors of the four houses. A big dusty green sofa takes up a great portion of the floor in front of a fireplace, two patchwork yellow and red pillows sit at either arm. Above the fireplace hangs the house crests on large tapestries. A black rug lined with silver and bronze is spread across the entire floor, stopping just before a bookshelf adorned with statues of the house mascots and various busts of historical wizarding figures.

And, through a window in the room around which hang royal blue curtains, Ginny can see a bright blue sky and the three iconic goalposts of a Quidditch pitch.

Her breath catches in her throat. The Quidditch pitch is on the other side of the castle grounds from here. And yet, she can see clear as day a pitch in the shining sun. If she squints, she can even see a broom moving around, like someone is already out and playing.

Ginny takes a step in, unable to believe what she is seeing. Her steps carry her further into the room, and as the door closes behind her—a sound she only distantly recognizes but doesn’t acknowledge—she finds there are other doors just as plain as the original, three on one wall, the side of the fireplace, and three across from them on the other wall. None of the doors are marked, some are open, and from these open doors, Ginny can hear the sounds of voices echoing across the stone walls and floors.

“And another one joins,” a wry voice speaks up. It takes Ginny a moment to locate the source, but then she spies a head of black hair just barely visible over the large back of the sofa.

She walks around the sofa until she can see the owner of the head clearly: a girl about her age, with long black hair tied back in a ponytail, holding a book before her. The girl’s eyes don’t move from her book, skimming the words on the page as if Ginny isn’t there at all. Ginny almost is sure that she imagined the voice when the girl sighs, puts a slim piece of paper between the pages, and sits up, meeting Ginny’s gaze with her own level stare.

“What?” she asks, and Ginny blinks.

“Well, what did you mean by that? ‘Another one joins?’” Ginny asks, the girl’s assessing look making her feel slightly foolish.

“I meant what I said, another one joins. You being the ‘other one’, in case you didn’t get that.”

Ginny rolls her eyes at the girl’s last comment. “And what is it I am joining? What is this place?” She looks around again in wonder at the room, which, now that she thinks about it, should not even be here. After all, she was just passing by the girl’s bathrooms when she saw the door, and by all logic, this room should be overlapping with the toilets.

“This is the Room,” the girl says simply. At Ginny’s questioning look, she sighs primly through her nose and explains further, “The Room. As in the Room of Requirement. The Come-and-Go-Room?” she adds as Ginny’s look of confusion grows.

“I have never heard of this room. And I’ve had six brothers who’ve gone here before me.”

“It isn’t a place just anyone will know about. The Room chooses you, invites you to enter if it senses that you need a place to be… away.”

“So it’s sentient?”

“It’s magic,” the girl replies with a coy twinkle in her eyes. Ginny scoffs, but looks around again. In a castle full of magic, is it really so hard to believe a room could sense the needs of students who fill its halls? On some small level, it is a tad creepy, but on another level entirely Ginny is fascinated by the idea that the castle provides a place for students to be… well, as the girl put it, away.

“So, what does that mean for me?” Ginny asks after a moment. The girl, who had just picked up her book again, sighs and puts it back down.

“It means that in some way, the Room could tell you needed a safe place. Somewhere to be yourself, or to hone a craft, or to be with other people who are like you. It gave you a potential entrance, if you were willing to take a chance and open the door, and now that you are here you can find the door whenever you need it.”

“How?”

“The same way you find the Room of Requirement. You find a blank wall and think about what you need, and pace three times in front of it.”

“Is it that easy?”

“Well, for the Room it is. I’ve been told the Room of Requirement is a bit trickier to find, but I’ve never gone looking for it, so I wouldn’t know. This room is all that I need.” The girl casts a fond look around her, her expression open for the first time since Ginny walked in.

Ginny falls back into silence then, thinking over everything she’s just learned. It’s a lot to take in, but based on the girl’s words, she can guess the reason for the Room inviting her, as it were. She looks out the windows, where the distant shape is still zooming about. She longs to go out and join the flier—if they were open to a companion—but she suddenly remembers with a jolt that Becca and Colin are waiting for her.

“Aren’t you Gryffindors supposed to be all curious and impulsive? Why are you still standing there?”

The girl is staring up at her, seeming perturbed that she’s still in the room. Ginny blinks, noticing for the first time that the girl wears robes lined in distinct green and silver before she responds, “I actually have somewhere to be.”

With that, she turns on her heels, walking back to the door. Her hand on the handle, she hesitates a second.

“Remember what I said,'' the girl says from behind her. “Now that the Room has given you access, you can always find it again. Don’t let the presence of some of us evil Slytherins stop you from returning. The Room reached out to you for a reason. If I were you, I’d want to know why.”

Ginny nods, still facing the door, and without a backward glance, she leaves, the door disappearing as it closes as if it were never there.

Chapter Text

Ginny spends all of two days avoiding the Room before she gives in, finding a blank wall outside of Gryffindor Tower on Saturday afternoon. Some small part of her is worried, despite the girl’s assurances, that her initial rejection of the Room would lead to it, in turn, rejecting her, but then after her third turn, she sees the door appear and lets out a breath of relief.

The girl is sitting in the same spot as she was two days ago, another book in her hands, her hair down this time. She doesn’t glance up as Ginny walks in and sits down on the couch, leaving some space between the two of them.

“You came back.” The girl speaks after a moment, still holding up her book. Ginny nods. “Good for you then. You bloody Gryffindors can never back down from a challenge, can you?” Ginny shakes her head wryly, and the girl smiles.

“You Slytherins can’t help but issue them though, isn’t that right?” Ginny responds after a moment, earning another laugh.

“I suppose so.”

They sit for a moment in silence. Ginny looks past the form of the girl, out the windows to the Quidditch pitch. There’s a figure out there again, flying what looks like various drills, though it's too far away to tell.

“Harper’s out there right now. He’s looking to try out for the Slytherin team this year, same as you and your team. What? I’ve seen you looking out at the pitch all longingly,” she explains as Ginny shoots her a confused look.

“Don’t worry, Harper’ll play nice enough. All he really cares about is getting on the team, so if you don’t get in his way he won’t get in yours.”

Working up her nerve, Ginny finally stands. But, before she moves to find her way out to the pitch, she turns to the girl. Extending her hand, she says, “Ginny Weasley.”

The girl finally lowers her book, her dark brown eyes meeting Ginny’s. She gives the outstretched hand an appraising look and then finally extends her own. “Claire Lieu,” she says in return. Ginny nods and turns to go.

“Take the door closest to the windows, that’ll lead you to the locker room,” Claire adds as Ginny is just about to step through the wrong door. Switching her direction, Ginny waves at Claire, who vaguely responds, and sets off to gear up.

—

Three hours later, she collapses beside Becca in the Great Hall. She spent the afternoon running laps, and then running drills, all on the other side of the pitch from the boy named Harper, who gave her a glance over as she walked out earlier, but otherwise stayed out of her way as she did his.

Strangely, though the pitch feels as real as the one on the Hogwarts grounds, the bright blue sky never changed its shade, and so she stayed out even after she saw Harper dismount and walk in to clean up. She’d chalked that up to his having been out there before her and stayed out almost an hour beyond when his figure disappeared into the locker room.

When she finally dismounted and went inside, the clock in the locker room showed it was only fifteen minutes to dinner, and she’d rushed through cleaning up to make it in time.

Now, Becca gives her a strange look as Ginny pulls an assortment of food onto her plate, starved from the hours spent running drills. She hadn’t had that sort of exercise since the end of the summer, and so she’d pushed her body a little further than it wanted to go to make up for it. Her stomach has been complaining for the last half hour, and her legs are a little shaky, but she knows the payoff of not only good training but also a deep sleep will be worth it.

So far, she’s avoided the worst of her nightmares, aside from the first night thanks to the unfortunate visit from the Dementors. She hopes to keep that record going for as long as possible, not excited by the possibility of waking her dormmates up in the middle of the night.

“Where were you?” Becca questions as Ginny pulls more chicken onto her plate.

Ginny stuffs some food into her mouth to avoid responding immediately. She isn’t sure what the rules are for telling friends about the Room. Still, she doesn’t want to lie to Becca, so after swallowing her bite, she simply says, “I found somewhere to practice.”

“Really?” Becca looks confused. “But, there’s no way Madam Hooch would let you practice on the pitch or the training grounds, not unless you were a guarantee for the team.” She eyes Ginny. “You didn’t bribe Wood or something. Maybe have your brothers convince him to let you on the team?”

Ginny laughs. “No. I just found somewhere else in the castle to train.”

Becca looks suspicious but doesn’t press, as if she knows Ginny’s hesitation to share. Later that night, Ginny sees Wood posting a sign in the common room that announces Quidditch tryouts next weekend. Realizing the perfect timing of her finding the Room, Ginny spends the next afternoon—she spent the morning doing classwork with Becca and Colin—running drills out in the Room’s pitch. Claire wasn’t in her normal spot when Ginny entered or left, and it wasn’t until that Friday that Ginny saw her again, even though Ginny had been taking time at the end of every day to practice.

She walks into the Room to find Claire bickering with another girl. This girl, Ginny notes immediately, is a Hufflepuff, and she is pretty sure they have Herbology together.

Ginny watches as the Hufflepuff girl says something to Claire, gesturing wildly and pointing to a book. Claire looks unperturbed and levels an arch look at the other girl as she seems to lose steam and stops speaking. Then Claire says something which has the Hufflepuff girl throwing her arms in the air in exasperation and she walks away, breezing past Ginny and out the door.

Claire sighs and turns to Ginny, who walks to the couch slowly.

“That’s Kathrine,” Claire explains. “This is technically her space, since it was here for her originally, but then I showed up and the couch and bookshelf got bigger, so now we share it.”

She grabs the book Kathrine was pointing to and sinks down onto the couch. Ginny sits down too, wincing as she finds a spring poking her. She shifts around for a few moments, trying to get comfortable while Claire pretends not to be annoyed at her fidgeting.

Finally, Ginny finds a position where the spring isn’t digging into her, and she asks, “What was that about then?”

Without speaking, Claire simply opens her book and turns to the page before, showing a folded-over edge. Ginny doesn’t understand, so Claire sighs and explains, “I usually use a bookmark to avoid folding the edges, but the other day I couldn’t find my bookmark, so I folded the edge just slightly to save my place. Kathrine found the book like this and got mad because apparently I am ‘tarnishing the perfection of this book’ or something.”

Ginny nods as if she understands, but she’s never been a big reader and her copy of Quidditch Through the Ages isn’t something you read all the way through like a regular novel.

Claire can tell Ginny can’t really relate to her feud with Kathrine and settles back into her book after muttering something about who knew a Hufflepuff would be so confrontational over a book.

Ginny’s mulling over something Claire said, and after a few moments when she sees Claire reach the end of a chapter—so hopefully the girl won’t get mad at her for interrupting—she turns to Claire.

“You said the Room made the couch bigger when you joined, like it made more space for you in here or something…”

Claire nods. “That’s how the Room works. It expands, adds rooms, when new students join. Whatever they need to feel safe here, the Room will provide. Like for you,” Ginny glances over at the girl, “it added more space in the locker room. It hadn’t been that big before, since Harper was the only one who used the pitch until you arrived.”

Ginny takes in the information. This room is such a mystery to her, but Claire seems to know so much about it already, despite them being the same year.

“How do you know all of this about the Room? I mean, we’re the same year, so you must’ve joined sometime last term?”

“I joined the first month of our first year,” Claire responds simply. “Last year there was a seventh year who had spent her time in the Room learning everything she could about it. She told me a lot.”

“And now you’re the font for knowledge around here?”

“Exactly,” Claire says with a small smile. Ginny mirrors it, then remembers she came here to get in one last hour or so of practice before the tryouts tomorrow and rushes off, Claire letting out a small laugh behind her.

—

Saturday morning brings Gryffindor’s Quidditch tryouts. Ginny’s up early, much to the chagrin of her other dormmates as Laura complains she is “tromping around like a bloody elephant”, but Becca is up to see her off and wish her well. She didn’t need to be up terribly early, but she wanted to get down to the Great Hall for breakfast and head out to warm up before the trials started. The school year has just started and already a chill is coming over the castle, so running a lap or two to stave off the lingering cold from the night could help her.

It will also help clear her mind and avoid the worries that had been plaguing her all week. She knows she is good, good enough that any captain would see her potential, and see that in the areas where she falls short, there is room for improvement that training with a team—instead of by herself—could fix.

But she also knows that Wood had been flying with mostly the same team for years now, Harry being the only new player since her brothers became Beaters. So she’s trying not to get her hopes up.

Still, that doesn’t mean she can’t do her best and show Wood, and whichever player ends up captain next term, that she is a valuable asset.

Wood is also in the Great Hall early, and only minutes after she sits down does he stand and make his way out of the hall, likely heading down the pitch to set everything up. She tries not to let this hurry her, having seen none of the other players come in yet. Her stomach has begun to churn while she eats, but she grabs a last bite of porridge before she follows Wood out. As she leaves, she spies Katie Bell and Alicia Spinnet, two of the current chasers, and feels relief flood through her, as they both look like they just woke up.

Hurrying down to the locker rooms, she somehow does not see Wood anywhere, and changes quickly into the flying gear, rubbing her arms to try and keep the cold at bay. The pitch is empty as she steps out of the locker rooms, and after stretching her legs to avoid pulling a muscle, she starts a brisk jog around the pitch. Her breath doesn’t fog, but she can feel her nose turning red as the biting wind makes her eyes water a little. Glancing up, the sun is barely starting to peek through the low clouds, and she wonders if the autumn weather has finally come to stay.

As she starts a second lap, slowing a little to save her strength, she sees shapes moving down the path to the pitch, and noticing two of those shapes have her same red hair, she realizes it's the other players, come to fulfill their obligatory presence at the trials. Wood also finally makes his appearance, stepping out of the locker rooms carrying the trunk Ginny knows to contain the Quidditch balls.

She isn’t quite sure, but it feels like his eyes catch on her as she runs the curve of the pitch right in front of the building. He starts down the path from the locker rooms to the pitch, and she slows on her last lap around, settling into a quick walk. She catches her breath as Wood sets the trunk down, and heads back up, probably to talk to his team. She doesn’t let any of this affect her nerves, taking deep, calming breaths just as she does whenever memories of last year surface a little too clearly.

Ginny is stretching again to keep the blood pumping through her muscles as the others exit the locker rooms. The crowd is slightly larger than it should be if just the team was in attendance, and some of the worry knotted in her chest dissipates at the realization that some other students really did show up, and she isn’t the only hopeful here to try out.

Wood has them all line up by position, first chaser, then keeper, then beater, then finally seeker. There are no students trying out for the keeper or seeker positions, possibly because everyone knows Harry is guaranteed to get the spot again and Wood obviously will hold the keeper position. There are two others trying out for the chaser position, a fourth-year and a fifth-year, both of whom Ginny is pretty sure were on the reserve squad. The prospective beaters are two-second years that she’s seen chatting with Colin at some meals, though recently he’s been sitting with her and Becca. Shane Birns and Philip Hughes, if she remembers correctly.

Wood runs the prospective chasers through drills first, and Ginny is the last to go. She doesn’t let this bother her, settling into a calm state using her breathing, and she lets the instinct she spent the summer working toward take over. She misses two of the five goals, not terrible, although it's the same score as one of the other reserve players. The fifth-year looks put out by the idea that a puny second-year got the same score as him. The fourth-year girl missed three, but doesn’t look terribly worried, almost like playing Quidditch is just a hobby for her, which makes Ginny wonder why she’s here in the first place.

The beaters go next, and though Birns and Hughes work well together, they don’t quite have the same rapport or talent for the position as her brothers. Ginny knows almost as soon as the boys begin their trials that Wood won’t even be considering them. She can’t say the same about the chasers, though, which makes her uneasy.

The trials end quickly, due to the small group, and they all file back into the locker rooms. Fred and George come up behind Ginny as she walks up the path, demanding to know how in the bloody hell she got so good, and she responds that if they’d wanted her to keep from playing Quidditch, they should have kept a better eye on their brooms when they weren’t leaving her out of their pick up games at home. They gape at her in mock surprise, though she knows that deep down they really are in a bit of shock that she was able to get so good by herself.

Harry gives her a tentative smile as he passes her, and the three chaser girls nod to her in acknowledgment, which she isn’t sure how to interpret. The other perspectives clean up and leave quickly, Harry and the chasers following shortly after. Fred and George tease Wood for a little about how he’ll likely double their practices this year since it’s his last chance to win the cup, and then they head off too. Ginny makes to follow them, not wanting to seem like she’s been hanging back to catch Wood alone, but he calls out her name just as she’s about to leave the building.

“Weasley,” he says, “Wait up a moment.” She waits at the door, her heart beginning to beat at a slightly quicker pace. He throws the last of his things in his locker before walking up to her. He gestures up the path and they start walking side by side back to the castle.

“You’re a good flier,” he says after a moment of silence. She doesn’t look at him, not wanting to see if his face reveals what he’ll say next. “I know you’d be a good player to have on the team, even if you need a little bit of practice flying in a group and all. I take it you’ve only practiced by yourself?”

She nods.

“Well, good for you, you fly almost as well as some players who’ve been practicing on a team for years.” She doesn’t let the compliment throw her but stays focused on his tone. She’s sure she knows what’s coming next.

“But…” and there it is. “It’s my last year at Hogwarts, my last year to win the cup. Aside from Harry, I’ve been flying with the same team since I became captain. I know them, I know how they fly, I know their strengths and weaknesses and how that factors into our gameplay. And, if I were to take you on this year, I’d be training a new player and team. It’s too much to do if I want to win. This may sound harsh, but please try to understand, I care more about winning this year than helping a new player. You’re young, only a second year, right? Right, so you have next year, and the year after. I’ve only got this year, and I need to make winning my top priority. I’m sorry.”

It stings, hearing the rationale she’s been reminding herself of for weeks said out loud, but she nods because she understands. And she says so, finally meeting his gaze. Wood looks relieved to hear this, and, she guesses, to not see any sign of tears. She can feel them prick the corners of her eyes but blinks them away as they appear, not allowing herself to let Wood see her cry.

Wood nods, clearly not having anything else to say, and she slows her pace enough that he can comfortably pull ahead and walk by himself up to the castle. He apologies once more, just a quick, “I’m sorry,” but she waves it off and soon his figure is retreating up the hill.

She wanders back up, letting the wind blow her hair around. She’d tied it back in a braid for the tryouts, and being up on her broom had pulled a few strands loose, so she lets it all out, feeling it hit her face and tangle together. Distantly she notes two tall figures moving down the path toward her, both with the distinct crop of Weasley hair.

Fred and George wait about halfway down and she meets them there, slowing to a stop beside them.

“Cheer up sis,” George says, throwing an arm around her. “Wood’s an ambitious bloke, quite ruthless when it comes to Quidditch, and you’re so scarily good you’ll be giving Spinnet and Bell a run for their money next year.”

She smiles at his obvious attempt to try and cheer her up. “Not Johnson though?”

“Nah,” Fred joins in with a smile. “She’s just a tad better than you. Plus, she’s a shoe in for captain next year after Wood’s gone.”

Ginny thinks back to the tryouts. She remembers now how carefully Johnson was watching the perspectives, like she was evaluating competition but also, Ginny now realizes, keeping an eye out for talent that could be returning in future years.

“Well then, she says, “I’ll just have to spend this year getting even better. And maybe the summer too.”

“Wood’ll have your head if you try to use the pitch during the season.”

“Who says I need the pitch to practice?” she says cryptically, and holds in her laugh at the twin look of confusion that her brothers share.

“Exactly what secret place have you found?” George asks, regarding her suspiciously.

“As the chief experts in the secrets of this school, we need to know,” Fred adds.

But Ginny mimes sealing her lips, and spends the rest of the walk up to the castle playing coy, laughing at their attempts to pry her secrets away from her, and she feels the morning's disappointments disappear with the clouds as the sun finally makes an appearance, covering the castle in glowing, warm light.

Chapter Text

Failure.

The word is like a spike through her brain. She knows she shouldn’t listen, knows the voice isn’t real, just the remnants of Tom’s influence, but that doesn’t stop the word, the voice from sending a tremor down her spine.

No, she fights back, but the voice just yells failure louder and louder until she is sitting up gasping with a scream on her tongue. She holds it in, just barely, and immediately sets about with her breathing. When she can take a breath that doesn’t shake, and when her body stops trembling, she imagines every happy moment she’s had flying. Every positive memory to combat the looming reminder of the morning’s tryouts.

Tom’s voice isn’t going to let go of that recent memory anytime soon, she knows. Especially not with her own misgivings about her skills, despite the perfectly reasonable explanation for why Wood did not choose her.

She has the tools, the techniques to get through this, she knows she does. Still, she wishes there was some way to talk to Ms Hussain, at least to share her doubts and have another person to confide in. Becca would be willing to help, she is sure, but she doesn’t know Ginny’s mind quite like her mother does, and isn’t so trained in providing solutions to every problem Ginny seems to bring up, no matter how unfounded.

Maybe she could write a letter to her mum? See if Molly is willing to be a go-between, of sorts, for the two of them to exchange letters. Or maybe McGonagall knows a way to allow Ms Hussain to the school to visit Ginny… there must be something.

With the resolve now to figure out a solution in the morning, Ginny lies back down. She can still hear the lingering voice though, and with its echo in her ears, despite her defiant focus on her happy memories, sleep takes a long time to return.

—

“I’m sorry, Miss Weasley. But I can’t help you.”

Ginny sits across from Professor McGonagall in her office. Following her burst of courage last night and her conviction to approach McGonagall about a way to meet with Ms Hussain on campus, she hadn’t been prepared for the creeping doubt that lingered after she’d woken up. She was quiet during breakfast, something Becca seemed to notice but did not comment on while Colin complained about their horrid potions essay. Of course, Becca disagreed with that statement, and so Ginny spaced out as the two of them bickered good-naturedly all throughout the meal.

Then, she’d spent the next half hour pacing in front of McGonagall’s office door trying to work up the courage to go in and ask, earning more than a few strange looks from passing students and staff. She knew that asking this of McGonagall would require telling the professor exactly why she needed to speak with Ms Hussain so urgently, an explanation of the memories that had plagued her since the end of last term. She just hadn’t fully registered the fact that she’d need to spill all of her fears and worries just as she had at the beginning of the summer. Despite overcoming that awkwardness and hesitation with Ms Hussain, Ginny was not too thrilled to repeat the revealing process with her Head of House.

Still, she needed help, and Ms Hussain was the way to get it. So, Ginny had steeled her nerves and pushed up her chin and knocked on the door.

And now she sits across from McGonagall, realizing she hadn’t quite thought out her plan to bring a Muggle onto the grounds.

“You must understand, Miss Weasley, that I sympathize with your plight. I really wish to aid you in getting the help you need. But bringing a Muggle on the grounds is out of the question. We have anti-Muggle enchantments in place for a reason, and to bring even one onto the grounds would require a complex level of spellwork to single out the specific person from the rest of the enchantments, and… it is simply not something that can be done.”

To McGonagall’s credit, she genuinely looks apologetic, her normally strict features softened.

Ginny nods.

“There are other ways, I’m sure. If writing a letter to her occasionally would be too difficult we could set up a Floo network. Of course, this would mean having her own hearth brought into the Floo network, which could be difficult considering she is a Muggle, no matter her ex-husband and daughter’s magical abilities.

“Or, you could perhaps arrange something with your family. If your own hearth is already part of the Floo network, she could speak to you from there…”

But Ginny shakes her head. This all was fun speculation, but they both knew the hassle was too much. Letters would have to be sufficient, she supposes.

“It’s all right professor. Thank you, though.”

McGonagall looks disappointed she can’t help but nods sharply. “Well, if you’re sure Miss Weasley.”

“I am. Thank you again,” Ginny replies, standing and turning to leave.

“Miss Weasley,” McGonagall calls from behind her. She turns to see the woman standing, concern on her face. “I hope you know that if you do ever need someone to talk to, my door is always open.”

Ginny nods, her throat tight. She hesitates a moment longer, then turns and walks out. She thinks she can hear McGonagall sigh as she does, but she carries on, blinking back tears of frustration. Her hurried steps find her in a wing of the castle that's unsurprisingly abandoned at this time of day. Looking at a blank wall next to her, she makes a quick decision and, pacing thrice before it, wrenches open the door as soon as it appears.

Claire is, as always, reading on the couch. Without preamble and without looking up, she points to one corner of the room.

“Did you do that?” she asks, her tone casual despite her accusatory words. Ginny follows the direction of her extended arm and sees a new door, closer to the windows than the others on that wall. She’s about to ask how she could be responsible for a new door when she remembers what Claire told her about the Room, how it tailors itself to fit the needs of the students who belong to it.

She’s been staring at the door for a few moments now, and Claire drops her hand.

“No other way to find out except to open it,” she says as if egging Ginny on. So, she crosses the room, letting her hand come to rest on the handle. The door looks the same as the others, plain wood with a more decorative handle. But as her skin touches the metal, she feels a thrum of magic travel through her.

She can feel Claire’s attention on her, though she knows if she were to turn around the girl would appear to be reading still. Not letting herself hesitate any longer, she pushes open the door and steps inside.

The room is small, barely big enough to hold its contents, but immediately she notices how cozy it is. A couch that looks like the one from the Burrow rests against one wall, the opposite holds a single window almost entirely hidden by thick drapes. The heavy material blocks most of the light coming in through the glass, giving a low light to the room. A small fireplace, just big enough to hold a log or two sits opposite the door, and the floor is covered with a fuzzy rug that touches every wall. Woolen blankets and giant pillows lay strewn across the couch and floor, creating a little pocket of space to sit in front of the fireplace.

She steps inside all the way, letting the door close. Claire can draw her own conclusions, and right now Ginny wants to explore this space by herself. She pulls open the drapes a bit and finds a small window seat with a clear view out to the Quidditch pitch. She notes that Harper isn’t flying around, and then remembers that Slytherin’s trials are this morning. She surprises herself by hoping his go better than hers did.

Letting the drapes fall back into place, she blinks through the dimness to the fireplace. On the mantle rest a few empty picture frames, an ornate clock that looks like a miniature of the grandfather clock from the Burrow, though this one does only tell time, and a little glass pot of what she is quite sure is Floo powder.

Ginny lets out a breath of surprise. She is sure that this means the fireplace is connected to the Floo network, though how that’s possible she doesn’t know. But she kneels in front of the fireplace nonetheless, reaching a hand out to the empty grate. Apparently, the Room could provide her with Floo powder and a fireplace connected inexplicably to the network, but not wood with which to make a fire. She sighs in frustration but cuts it short when she remembers this entire room was made just for her. A place for her to feel safe and be alone when she needs to.

“Thank you,” she says to the empty room, and hopes that somehow, the Room knows just how deeply grateful she is.

—

Tom’s voice follows her for the next week. She fights it as best she can, and sends a letter to her mum asking about being a go-between for Ginny and Ms Hussain. She is hesitant to use the Floo powder the Room provided her with, not because she doesn’t need it, but because she remembers McGonagall’s warning about the difficulty of getting Ms Hussain’s own fireplace connected to the network. There is also the matter of the Statute of Secrecy, of course, and if a Muggle were to walk in on a session happening through a magical fireplace, well, no privacy the Room provides could keep the Ministry from finding out.

So the fireplace in her alcove, as Ginny comes to call that little room, is her designated last resort method of reaching out to her mum or anyone outside of Hogwarts. There is also, she remembers, the question of where she would even get the wood with which to make a fire. But that’s a problem for another time, she decides.

She watches Quidditch practice start and avoids the little voice in her head by spending time in the Room, both with Claire—and sometimes Kathrine—and in her alcove, and by studying with Becca and Colin in the library, or exploring the castle with them between classes.

She watches the third years get excited about their first trip to Hogsmeade, the afternoon of Hallowe’en, and watches Harry walk away from the crowd of his excited classmates, looking dejected. She wonders if she should say anything, but Becca is pulling her out to walk with her and Colin around the castle with the freedom they have now that half the school is gone.

The three quickly tire of this, as the weather has progressively declined into fog and cold, so they hurry instead into the library, hiding in the stacks from Madam Pince and her piercing gaze. Becca tries to help Colin with his potions homework while Ginny pours over her notes on Vera Verto. As the afternoon slowly wanes, the three pack up and go back to the common room, dropping their things off and meeting Ron and Hermione, red-nosed and laden with sweets and other goodies from Hogsmeade, and Harry, on the way. Colin seems a little starstruck about Harry, but Ginny elbows him and he loses a bit of the glassy sheen over his eyes. Having been in that position before, she feels embarrassed to see how obvious the awe was to everyone around her, and Harry shoots her a grateful glance as they all sit down for the feast.

The Great Hall is decorated as always for the holiday, and the food seems to taste even better than it usually does, though that may just be the general air of happiness and the buzz of third years discussing their day's adventures.

The buzz follows the crowd out of the hall, and the Gryffindors make their way to the common room. Ginny and Colin are talking with Ron about Hogsmeade, Becca and Hermione discussing potions, and Harry falls behind a bit, seemingly lost in thought. He catches up to them as the crowd becomes thicker in front of the Fat Lady’s portrait, the noise growing to a clamor. Then Dumbledore and Percy are pushing through the crowd to the front, and as the students part for them Ginny gets a glimpse of what is causing the commotion. The Fat Lady’s portrait is in shambles, the canvas hanging in strips, the frame tilted, and the lady who normally sits primly in the center of the portrait missing.

Ginny can’t hear what Dumbledore says to Peeves, though she can see the conversation happening. But then, only a few seconds removed from a dark look dawning on the Headmaster’s features, a murmur of a single name passes through the crowd.

Sirius Black, the name that’s been on everyone’s lips since the summer. Ginny hadn’t paid much attention to the news, too wrapped up in her own issues to care that a convict she’d never heard of and had no connection to was on the loose. But now, the threat of that man is so much greater.

She sees Hermione grab Ron’s arm, her face white. She sees Harry stiffen at the name as if he were expecting something like this to come at any moment.

More professors arrive, and the students are all ushered to the Great Hall, where the tables now sit polished and empty of all dishes, despite the feast having ended only a few minutes earlier.

She wonders why they are here, before Dumbledore conjures hundreds of sleeping bags to replace the tables he moves to the side of the room. The sound of feet on stone echoes from the hallway and in come students from Hufflepuff, followed by Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Ginny sees Kathrine standing with some other girls their age, sees Claire with a bored look on her face, probably wishing to be back in the Room.

Ginny honestly doesn’t blame her. She too would rather be in her alcove, safe and unaware of the new danger posed to the students. But the professors are watching them closely, and so she says goodnight to her friends and climbs into one of the sleeping bags, Becca grabbing one and taking the spot on her left, Colin on her right.

She expects sleep to be a long time coming, but despite the low murmur of voices around her that no amount of shushing by professors can seem to silence, and despite the newest looming threat to her safety, she finds that sleep comes easy.

—

The first Gryffindor Quidditch match comes on a particularly blustery day. The rain and fog have set in, but nothing short of a disaster ever stopped a Quidditch game from happening, so Ginny sits up with Hermione, Ron, and her friends, watching the players zooming around above their heads, dodging bludgers and lighting strikes alike.

Hermione mutters something about a person having to be mental to want to spend their time flying a broom around in conditions like this, then runs off to help Harry with his glasses during a timeout called by Wood, and Ginny grins sheepishly as Becca and Colin turn to her with twin looks of amusement.

Their worry only worsens when Harry seems to stall on his broom, staring off into a section of the stands as Diggory goes for the snitch. When Harry finally follows suit, it only takes a few moments for the entire audience to stand with collective gasps as a horde of dementors floods the field, and Ginny watches with the rest in horror as he drops from out of the sky.

Diggory catches the snitch moments later, unaware of the events transpiring below him, but no one seems to care much as Harry is whisked off to the hospital wing, Ron and Hermione close behind. The Gryffindor team stays to finish the match, and the crowd breaks up as the excitement ends.

Ginny and her friends wander up to the school with the rest of them. Colin looks pale, shaking a little from the cold but also, very likely worried over Harry. Ginny herself can hardly believe what she saw. There is no way, she tells herself, that Harry is… no. Dumbledore slowed his descent, he didn’t even hit the ground all that hard. And the dementors didn’t even get close enough to… the point is he’s fine.

She tells herself this over and over as they trudge up to the school.

Becca, as if she can read the minds of her two friends, leads them to the hospital wing, where Ron and Hermione stand impatiently outside. Their little group waits, anxious energy bouncing off each of them, and not long after the Gryffindor team, sans Wood, arrives. They’re all still in their gear, and when Pomfrey finally lets them all in she gives the team a disapproving glance, though she makes no comment.

Ginny stands back with her friends as the others gather around Harry’s bedside. When he wakes, they answer his questions, and Ginny can’t help but glance at the bag of what is left of Harry’s Nimbus 2000 at Hermione’s feet. She wonders when he’ll ask about it, and hopes she isn’t there to see the crushing sadness she knows will be found on his all-too-expressive face when the news is broken to him.

Pomfrey comes to shoo them away after a while, and Ginny wishes Harry a quick recovery before dragging Colin out, the three of them following the team. She looks back once more at Harry lying dejected in the bed, probably thinking of his first Quidditch defeat. She wonders if it matters at all to him that everyone thought him dead, wonders if he knows the effect that the possibility of the Boy Who Lived could be brought down by dementors might have on the students.

And then she mentally chides herself. If there is anyone who knows just how devastating his own death would be, it’s Harry.

Chapter Text

For the Gryffindors, the rest of the term passed slowly, Ravenclaw’s game against Hufflepuff passing by with Hufflepuff’s sad defeat following their win against Gryffindor a month earlier. Ginny knew Harry must be kicking himself about the loss their team would have to make up in the next term if they had any hope of winning.

And so, as the term came to a close, the final Hogsmeade visit approached. Becca and Colin were planning to study in the library, and if there was any hope of Colin managing a good grade on their final essay of the term they would be there all day. Not enthused about spending the entire day in the library, as they’d been doing so much that term, Ginny decides to visit the Room.

Wandering through the mostly empty corridors, Ginny looks for a suitable place to enter the Room. Unfortunately, every time she turns a corner and finds a blank wall, another student or professor rounds the other corner.

Beginning to get frustrated, Ginny crosses through a courtyard, going to try another side of the castle. She’s just ducking out of the snow when she hears the low sound of voices. She’s about to walk away when she hears one of the twins say something, and then a response that sounds like Harry. Wondering what mischief the twins could possibly be pulling him into, she ducks behind a statue of a one-eyed witch and listens through the cracked door to the classroom beyond where the voices are coming from.

“It’s a wrench giving it to you,” Fred is saying, “but we decided your need’s greater than ours.”

Ginny tries to peer around the statue, to see what is happening, and spies the twins handing Harry a spare bit of parchment. She can see his face, looking down at it in confusion. But then George taps his wand against it and says a spell she can’t quite make out the words to, and Harry’s face lights up in surprise and delight, the twins watching his expression with satisfaction.

“Use it well,” Fred says, clapping his hand on Harry’s shoulder.

Ginny decides to leave, having seen enough. Whatever the twins gave Harry, it's likely no good, but Harry can handle his own problems, she tells herself. Still, she can’t deny she is intrigued by whatever it was that delighted Harry so much.

She leaves the corridor, and right outside finds a blank wall, she casts a backward look in the direction of the three boys, but she can distantly hear the sounds of them leaving the other way. So she paces three times in front of the wall, and the door materializes. As she opens it, Ginny thinks she heard the scuff of a footstep and then a low voice, but when she turns there is no one there, and she chalks it up to her imagination before she steps inside.

Claire is on the couch, joined this time by Kathrine, who stands at the bookshelf, looking through the collection. Ginny brought her own copy of Quidditch Through the Ages, and, in a single quick decision, she decides to plop down on the couch with Claire. The girl gives her a look but says nothing. Kathrine has no reaction when she turns to see another person on the couch. She simply takes the last empty spot next to Ginny, sitting down with a book Ginny has never seen before that she took from the shelf. The flash of the author’s name that she sees before Kathrine opens it and begins reading makes her think it's a Muggle book, and she wonders at what other tomes the Room can provide.

She spends the morning with the two girls in silence, all three reading. Ginny reviews a few strategies she heard Wood saying the Gryffindor team should practice, wanting to understand everything they are learning to be the most prepared for the next year.

She stands for lunch at about the same time as Kathrine and the two walk out together while Claire stays behind, waving them away when they ask if she wants to come with them. So the two make their way to the Great Hall in relative silence.

Thankfully, Kathrine breaks the silence after a few minutes. “You must have joined the Room earlier this year, right?”

Ginny nods. “About the second or third week of term, I think.”

Kathrine nods. “I remember Claire mentioned a new Gryffindor girl around that time. She’s not one for talking though.”

Ginny frowns, remembering the conversations she had with Claire in her first few visits to the Room. She’d seemed plenty talkative, though since then Ginny must concede she has been rather quiet. Perhaps the pride in explaining such a secretive room in the castle had inspired her to loquaciousness.

“I’m not sure we’ve been properly introduced,” Kathrine says as they reach the doors to the Great Hall. “I’m Kathrine Fawley. But you can call me Kat, pretty much everyone does.”

Ginny takes her hand, recognizing Kat’s last name as one of the sacred twenty-eight. It is one of the few families that tend to be sorted into a house other than Slytherin, just like her own.

“Ginny Weasley,” she responds, trading her own recognizable name for Kat’s. The girl smiles, and they walk into the Great Hall together, separating when they get to the tables. That afternoon, by silent agreement, Ginny and Kat walk back to the Room together, but instead of joining her and Claire on the couch again, she drops her book off in her alcove and heads out to the Quidditch pitch.

She hasn’t seen Harper since before tryouts, and wonders if this means he made it where she didn’t. Not letting that idea get her down, and pushing back against the growing volume of the voice, she pulls on her gear and flies up. She spends the afternoon up there, letting herself get lost in the feeling of the wind against her face and the swoop in her stomach as she tries out new evasions and dives. The pumping of her heart and the roar of blood in her ears distract her from everything else, and when she finally takes a moment to pause and catch her breath, she spies two shapes sitting down on the lawn by the locker rooms.

One of them seems to see her looking down, and waves up, while the other ignores her. Kat and Claire, Ginny realizes, come to watch her practice. It was likely Kat’s idea, she thinks with a huff of laughter, judging from Claire’s lack of interest.

A sudden thought comes to her, that were Hermione not friends with Harry and Ron, who seem to have a deep-seated hatred of all things Slytherin, she and Claire might become fast friends. She laughs loudly at the thought, swooping down to meet the two on the grass.

This time, after Ginny cleans up and she and Kat leave for dinner, Claire joins them. They meet Becca and Colin on their way back from the library, and the two shoot her perplexed looks at seeing her chatting amicably with a Hufflepuff, who is conversing just as animatedly, and a Slytherin who looks a little put out to be caught between so much noise. Ginny just smiles at them and introduces her two sets of friends. She smiles again to herself as she realizes that yes, she can count the two girls from the Room as her friends, despite Claire’s aloof personality and Kat’s only recent introduction.

The group splits at the Great Hall, and Ginny knows Becca is itching to ask where she met the other two, but they are quickly distracted by the third years returning for the final feast of the year after their second trip to Hogsmeade. Harry returns with them, just as red-nosed as the rest, though there is something dark in his eyes. Ron and Hermione are casting worried glances at him but say nothing about it.

Ginny wonders distantly if this has something to do with what Fred and George showed him on the parchment earlier. The three are trying their best to pretend Harry didn’t find a way to sneak into the village, and they may fool the others but Ginny knows something is up. She remembers the scuff of footsteps she heard earlier, despite the emptiness of the hallway, and wonders if its emptiness was due to a secret passage one might only learn about if informed by the two most notorious tricksters of Hogwarts.

Harry glances at her, and her suspicions are all but confirmed when confusion passes over his eyes, like he’s reminded of seeing her stand before a door that appeared out of nowhere. She gives him a long look, hoping he understands that if he keeps her secrets, she will keep his, and after a moment he looks away, clearly uncomfortable.

Ginny finishes her dinner and walks back to the common room with her friends, which is now “guarded” by Sir Cadogan. They stay up later than normal, discussing their plans for the break and finally go to sleep as the last remnants of the fire are dwindling in the hearth. Ginny falls asleep quickly, and dreams of Christmas at the Burrow.

—

Ron and his friends choose to stay at Hogwarts over the break, but Ginny is anxious to return home, so she boards the train with Becca and Colin, throwing off their scarves and layers as soon as they find an empty compartment, settling down to comfortably wait out the long journey. Ginny’s leg bounces with nerves as the train pulls out of the station at Hogsmeade, remembering the unfortunate experience with the dementors on the first train ride earlier this year, but there are no hiccups and the train chugs smoothly on the whole way to King’s Cross.

Her mum and dad are there to welcome them as they get off. Ginny waves to Becca and Colin, rolls her eyes with the twins at Percy’s parting from his girlfriend and sinks into a warm embrace from her mum.

Arriving at the Burrow is like a breath of fresh air. The house is decorated for the holidays, the snow that looks freshly fallen completing the picture, and inside it is warm with the glow from the fire. The first day home passes in a blur of unpacking and a home-cooked meal that, in Ginny’s opinion, tastes better than anything the Hogwarts kitchens could cook up, but the whole time Ginny reminds herself of the conversation she’s been waiting to have. After dinner, she asks her mum to help her unpack a few things. Molly looks a bit confused but follows Ginny into her room.

Ginny closes the door slightly, hoping for a bit of privacy.

“Mum, I wanted to talk to you about my letter.” Understanding dawns on her mum's face as Ginny says this. The two had exchanged a few letters back and forth over the last few months, all discussing the possibility of Molly being a go-between for Ginny and Ms Hussain. Molly had been unsure if letters would be enough and if Ginny shouldn’t just come home if she was having trouble again. Ginny was very firm in her insistence that, despite the return of the dreams and the voice, there was no reason why she couldn’t stay at Hogwarts just as Ms Hussain said, so long as she was able to manage her memories.

Letters, she tried to explain, would help with that.

That had been the contents of her last letter to her mum, right before the break had begun, and when Molly hadn’t responded she’d assumed it meant they would discuss more in person. So here they are.

“I understand your concern, I do,” Ginny says when her mum doesn’t respond. “But… I don’t think I need to come home. I just would like there to be some way that Ms Hussain and I can talk occasionally, whenever I need to work through something. Nothing has gotten worse, but also it hasn’t gotten better, and I think—no, I know that if I could just talk to her when I need to, it would be a great help.”

Her fingers twist together in front of her as she speaks, betraying her nervousness. Molly doesn’t say anything for a moment, her face pensive. Ginny knows how protective her mum can be, and knows how much Ginny’s recent troubles have worried her, but she doesn’t want to lose the freedom that going to Hogwarts provides her. And honestly, she isn’t sure that being forced to stay home would help her get better. If anything, the separation from her friends would just make her miserable.

Eventually, Molly nods slowly. “You know I trust you, dear. I just worry so much. What happened to you… I wasn’t there, so I couldn’t protect you. And I wish I had a better way to do that. If you are sure that letters would be enough, I suppose we can make it work,” Ginny smiles, “but,” Molly adds on, “I want you to keep me updated as well. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, but I also want to know how my daughter is doing. Tell me about school, your friends, anything you want. Just talk to me.”

Ginny’s heart hurts a little at the expression on her mum’s face, open and pleading. She nods and goes to hug Molly, if only to hide the tears that are pricking at the corners of her eyes.

“I can do that,” she promises, emotion making her voice thick.

“That’s all I ask,” Molly responds. They stay there, hugging for a long time.

—

All too soon the holidays are over. Before she leaves, Ginny has one in-person session with Ms Hussain, just for a quick check-in to discuss the recent developments and make sure she is okay with Molly passing letters back and forth between the two of them during the second term.

Ginny has Becca over a few days after Christmas, and since the day is nice they fly around in the pasture. Becca complains good-naturedly that Ginny is going too easy on her, and so Ginny begins to step up her pace a little bit, far more comfortable on a broom than Becca is, and soon her friend is flying to touch down on the ground, saying Ginny’s flying is making her dizzy.

Ginny just laughs at her obvious ploy to get out of being shown up and zooms down to meet her. Her daring dive leads Becca to comment that she could try to unseat Harry as the Gryffindor seeker, but Ginny just scrunches up her face and comments that sitting on her arse for the whole game instead of being part of the action sounds like the exact opposite of fun.

Becca just laughs.

A few days later they meet up again at King’s Cross, finding Colin in the crowd, the three of them sharing about their holidays while their parents chat nearby. Ginny tries to hold in her snicker at her dad’s obvious delight to talk with Muggles, though Mr and Mrs Creevey don’t seem that put out by all his questions. Then the warning whistle is blowing and they are waving goodbye to their families and piling in, trying to find an empty compartment.

The entire train seems to be buzzing about Sirius Black, wondering if any further developments occurred while most of the students were gone. The entire school seems to be aware of Gryffindor’s misfortune of having to deal with Sir Cadogan as the new portrait at the entrance to Gryffindor Tower, and all are worried that any house could be next.

Like the ride home, the train ride back to Hogwarts passes with little excitement. Classes start shortly after their return, and even then all the attention turns to the approaching Slytherin-Ravenclaw game, which comes one week after the term begins. The day before, Ginny walks into the Room after her classes end, looking to unwind a bit in her alcove. Glancing out the windows, she sees a familiar shape once again out on the pitch.

“Flint’s been on the whole team's arses about winning the cup this year,” Claire explains from her place on the couch. “It’s his last year, and he doesn’t want to end it with a loss. Not since the last time we actually had Quidditch finals he won. Pride, and all that. Can’t leave with that shame.”

Ginny snorts, choosing to sit down next to Claire instead of going to the alcove. “Wood’s been the same way apparently. Gryffindor hasn’t won a year since my brother Charlie was on the team, and Wood’s determined to make this the year we win.”

“It’s odd, the two houses who have prideful hardheadedness in common are always so at odds,” Claire comments. “One would think something like that might bring us together.”

“If you know anything about competitiveness, you know it does not bring people together. It’s like siblings,” Ginny explains. “My brothers and I, you’d think that we’d bond over how competitive we all are, but given that we are competing against each other, it keeps us apart. In most things anyways,” she adds.

Claire frowns slightly. “I suppose that makes sense. But my sister and I aren’t like that at all.”

“You have a sister?”

“Yes. She’s four years younger, though, so she won’t be here for a while.”

“What’s her name?”

“Samantha. Mum calls her Sam sometimes, but she dreads that name and insists she only wants to be called Samantha. She claims it makes her sound more grown-up” A rare smile crosses Claire’s face. “Only eight and she’s already stubborn as a mule.”

Ginny smiles too. Yes, she thinks, stubbornness is something Gryffindors and Sytherins have in common. That and pride, she reminds herself, wondering if the animosity between the two houses could maybe be broken by anyone willing to admit the similarities that are so obvious.

The two fall into silence, but it's peaceful and so Ginny feels no urge to break it. She studies the books on the shelf in front of her, reading the names on the spines sideways, recognizing fewer titles than she expected.

A noise from the door by the windows draws her attention. It opens, and a shape walks through, tall and dressed in the silver and green lined robes of Slytherin.

Harper gazes down at Ginny and Claire where they rest on the couch. It’s the first time she’s seen him up close, every other encounter having been from a distance on the pitch. But now she can see his features more clearly. He’s tall for their age, fine-boned with hooded brown eyes. His hair is cut short, almost to his scalp, and she supposes it has the benefit of preventing wind drag on the pitch. In fact, Harper looks born to fly, his frame slim, and he looks light on his feet despite his lanky stature, which probably aids him when maneuvering around other players. If she makes it on the team next year, they will face off at least once. Perhaps she should pay more attention to his flying whenever she runs across him in the Room.

He nods to them both. “Weasley.” He addresses her first, which takes her by surprise, and apparently, he knows her name.

Ginny nods back to him. “Harper,” she says, trading his knowledge of her name for her own familiarity with his. As far as she can tell he has no reaction to her knowing him, and she wonders just how much Slytherins pay attention to what the other houses don’t see.

Another nod. “Lieu.”

“Byron.” Claire uses his first name, a name Ginny has never heard anyone call him by. Now that she hears it used, she realizes she was operating under the assumption that Harper was his first name.

But Harper doesn’t look taken aback at this, making Ginny question if it is a normal exchange between the two, and then he walks out through the door and Claire is back to her book, leaving Ginny to ponder the encounter. The silence doesn’t last very long, though.

“Byron and I found the Room around the same time last year. He was a few days after me, but essentially we joined together. We were the first Slytherins to join in a while, so we kind of stuck together a bit at the beginning, even though outside of here we run in different circles. Then he started hanging out with some of the wrong sort in our house. Malfoy’s lot, and all of them. He started making random comments about my heritage, and not just about my father being half-blood.”

Her jaw tightens almost imperceptibly, but Ginny sees it. She realizes what Claire means, and her heart hurts for the girl. Claire presses on though, giving Ginny no time to say anything in sympathy. She wonders if that was intentional.

“So I stopped talking to him. Eventually, he took the hint, became more wrapped up in Quidditch practice, and stopped hanging around much in here. I began learning the history of the Room from the seventh year, and I met Kat.”

She turns to look at Ginny. “The hatred that so many associate with my house does not only extend outward. It runs deep inside too. Do not think the things you condemn my housemates for are not also things I condemn them for. But do not fool yourself by thinking it is only us, either. Slytherins are not the only house with pride, with ambition and determination and cunning. We are just the ones who do not care about hiding it.”

She stands, her face calm but her eyes betraying just a hint of emotion that Ginny heard in her voice.

“We all know who hurt you,” she says, the words like a bombshell dropped in front of Ginny. “We know what he did and what he could have done. And not all of us find rage in his defeat. Some of us find comfort in knowing he is gone. But his ideas are still here. And they didn’t only reach Slytherin. You and yours would do well to remember that.”

The echo of the door closing is all that Ginny is left with after Claire leaves, and even that fades. But Claire’s words over and over in her mind, and she sits there until her eyes grow tired, and only then does she leave, casting one long look back at the emptiness before she closes the door, leaving the Room behind.

Chapter Text

Ginny spends a few days away from the Room, mulling over what she’s learned in her free time. At the end of the week, she returns, opening the door and almost sighing in relief when she sees Claire.

She walks over, taking her usual seat on the couch. Claire doesn’t look up or acknowledge her, and though that is not unusual, it feels more intentional now. Or maybe she’s just imagining it.

They sit for a moment in silence, Ginny trying to collect her thoughts before she speaks.

When she’s ready, there is no preamble. She just starts talking, and hopes Claire will listen.

“I have an aunt. Muriel Prewett. My great aunt really, on my mother’s side. Never married, never a mother, but she still has these outdated notions of what it means to be a girl, a woman, a lady. She’s always commenting on how I’ll never find a man to wed if I don’t take on more feminine duties and activities. It drives Mum mental, honestly. And me too. We all hate visiting her, but still mum insists because ‘she’s family.’

“And she also has these really awful ideas about who should use magic. She would be taken aback and offended if you suggested to her face that her views align at all with Voldemort’s, but when she gets going on some of her tangents during the holidays, it’s hard to believe she never supported the other side during the war. I guess it’s because she is better at hatred from a distance, rather than violent hatred. I doubt she could even lift her wand to torture someone, but she can spit the most vile, vitriolic things you have ever heard.

“She’s a Gryffindor, too. It was hard to understand, when I was young, that this awful woman came from a house that I had heard described by my parents and older brothers as a place for the brave and honorable, but nonetheless, the Sorting Hat put her there. I think over time I just learned to accept that, and then later I pretended I had never known it.”

Ginny takes a breath and looks down at her hands twisted in her lap.

“I don’t know exactly what I’m getting at. I think I want to say I’m sorry, but I know that helps nothing. I think I want to say you’re right, but you already know that and you don’t need my confirmation. I think I want to say… I’m here. I’m here to help and to learn and to change. I don’t want to pretend I never knew. I just wanted to tell you that.”

They sit in silence again, with only Ginny’s heavy breathing—as she winded herself in the rush to get all her words out—filling the empty air.

After a long while, once Ginny’s breathing becomes easy again and the occasional turn of a page takes over the silence, Claire carefully marks her place in the book and stands. Ginny watches her place the book back on the shelf and turn to the couch. Their eyes meet, and Claire nods to her. She says nothing, just nods, but Ginny understands all that she needs to, and nods back.

She watches Claire leave the Room, the door echoing through the stone room. Then she stands and goes to her alcove. The fireplace is still empty, and so she draws open the drapes to let in the warm light, so different from the cold fog outside the castle walls.

Turning to the couch, Ginny finds there is a book sitting there as if waiting for her. She picks it up, letting out a soft hum of intrigue when she reads the title on the cover.

Pure-blood, Half-blood, and Muggle-born: A Comprehensive History of Magical Diversity.

Ginny smiles, finds a comfortable spot on the couch, and turns to the first page.

—

Slytherin had narrowly defeated Ravenclaw in their match, with Harper scoring a good number of the points that got them over. Ginny supposes his extra training in the Room had paid off, and she wonders how much that advantage will screw with Gryffindor’s chances at the House Cup this year.

But then the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw match comes along, and Ginny is in the crowd, watching giddily as Harry flies circles around the Ravenclaw seeker on his Firebolt. She cheers with her housemates as Harry, though the feat of magic is unheard of for a wizard his age, casts an almost fully corporeal Patronus at Malfoy and the others dressed as dementors, and then she is screaming in joy and running with everyone onto the pitch as Harry catches the snitch.

The cherry on top is McGonagall giving the Slytherin boys detention and taking away fifty points for their attempt at sabotage. The mood in the common room that night is jovial, and everyone is up late into the night celebrating.

The pleasant mood is sharply interrupted when, early in the morning, everyone in the tower is awoken by a commotion in the boy's dormitory. Becca and Ginny exchange a look and follow their dormmates down the stairs to see Percy and Ron, who are closely backed by Harry, standing in a circle of Gryffindors, shouting about Sirius Black standing over him with a knife. McGonagall sweeps in a few moments later, and immediately after hearing Ron’s claim, goes to question Sir Cadogan.

Ginny feels sorry for Neville, being punished for something he can’t help in front of their whole house. McGonagall’s fury is electric, and she pins them all with a stare that promises many weeks of detention as she tells them all to stay in the common room while the professors search the school.

Then Percy takes over, making sure everyone obeys McGonagall’s command and presiding over the packed room as if he were a teacher himself. Ginny and Becca huddle close to Colin and their other classmates, trading whispered words of worry and conjecture. None of the Gryffindors get any more sleep that night, and the next day she feels bone-tired. Not that she would have been able to sleep at all even if she’d tried.

Ginny goes back to the Room the next day, but instead of stopping to talk to Claire, or Kat, who is also on the couch today, she makes her way directly to the locker rooms. She runs a few laps, her lungs burning at the exertion, trying to get the frightful thought of a servant of Voldemort running around the castle out of her head with the exercise. She mentally chides herself on letting her body get unfamiliar with the training, and runs an extra lap in defiance of the ache in her legs, letting the rush of blood be the only thing she hears. Then she flies up and begins her drills.

While she’s up, she spots a cluster of figures down on the ground. Two sit down, and she smiles as she realizes it is Claire and Kat, back out to watch once again. Then the third figure hops on a broom and flies up, and she watches carefully as Harper heads to the other end of the pitch and begins running his own drills.

Spurred into action, Ginny pays him and her friends no mind and focuses on a particular move that has been giving her trouble. She lets the challenge and the burn in her lungs and muscles focus her on the task at hand, falling into a rhythm and losing herself in the drill.

A shout breaks her focus sometime later, and she spies Kat waving up at her. Harper is touching down, and she follows, guessing it is probably almost time for dinner.

Almost as soon as the three of them exit the Room, in fact just as the door has disappeared, Colin and Becca appear around the corner of the corridor, and, spotting the three of them, head over. Colin looks delighted to try again at striking up a conversation with Claire, but Becca has a glint of suspicion in her eye.

“How did you three meet, exactly?” she questions at a break in the conversation. Kat looks cornered, but Claire smoothly replies, “Why is that any of your concern?”

Becca is flustered at this but holds her own. “I’m just confused how three students from three different houses managed to become friends.”

“So you’re saying we should instead be at each other’s throats with hatred and hostility?”

“Do not put words in my mouth.”

“I’m simply asking for clarification.”

“Do you know if we are allowed to tell them about the Room?” Kat whispers to Ginny, pulling her back behind the two girls, who continue to trade barbs and banter while Colin watches.

“I honestly have no idea. Claire knows the most about the Room and its rules, so I’d ask her, except…”

The two watch as a furious blush creeps up Becca’s neck to her cheeks, but there is a light in her eyes Ginny only ever sees when she’s tackling a particularly difficult potion. She likes the challenge, Ginny realizes, of this verbal sparring with Claire, who also seems to have a rare twinkle of mirth in her normally bored eyes.

Eventually, they reach the Great Hall, and Claire breaks away from them immediately. This leaves Becca with the last word, though she doesn’t look terribly pleased to have it. Kat shoots Ginny a commiserate look, possibly knowing the barrage of questions they are leaving her to answer, and then also goes off to her own table. The three of them find empty seats between their other housemates.

“Having fun?” Ginny asks, sending Becca a sly look as they begin to fill their plates.

“I have no idea what you mean,” Becca responds cooly, and Colin stifles his laugh next to her. Ginny just shakes her head knowingly, and the three fall into easy conversation during the feast which, luckily for Ginny, brings no further difficult questions for her to answer.

—

Later, she asks Kat’s same question to Claire. How much exactly are the students of the Room allowed to share with those not invited in?

She is surprised when the question gives Claire pause, since every other question Ginny has ever asked of her has been answered quickly and succinctly. But this one causes Claire to put down her book and think.

After a moment, Claire stands abruptly and goes to the shelf. She skims her fingers over the spines, and Ginny starts in surprise as the names shift and the letters rearrange. A few seconds pass and the books grow and shrink, the spines changing as Claire’s fingers pass over them.

She stops a few seconds later, her fingers paused on a particularly thick tome with fading silver letters against a worn black spine. Ginny thinks she can’t read the title because of how worn down it is, until she realizes the letters she can make out are not letters at all. The title of the book is written in ancient runes.

“Can you read that?” she asks, a little wonder in her voice.

Claire shakes her head. “No, but the seventh year told me what the title is. The words inside the book alter so that each reader can read in whatever language is most convenient.”

She opens it, and Ginny sees the runes shift a little on the page before settling into the familiar letters of English.

Claire flips through, combing over chapter titles and subtitles. Finally, about halfway through, she finds a subtitle discussing the secrecy of the Room and how students are expected to uphold it.

“There is nothing in here about not sharing knowledge of the Room with trusted friends. This is just a general warning about the magic of the Room fading if too many know of it.” She reads a little more. “It also appears that there was originally a Fidelius charm placed on the Room, but since that was ages ago, it’s no doubt become null.”

She shuts the book sharply. “If you want to tell your friends about the Room, go right ahead. I won’t stop you, but if you are to blame for putting the Room in any danger by sharing its secrets you should know it has the power to abandon you. Any students who betray the Room can be locked out. It’s happened before, and it can happen again.”

Claire leaves Ginny with that warning, putting the book back on the shelf and sitting down. Ginny stays where she is for a few moments, thinking over everything. Then, she stands and goes to her alcove.

Opening the door, she finds the same book Claire had just put back on the shelf sitting, waiting for her on the couch.

Ginny shakes her head but goes to open the curtains. Then, she curls up with a fuzzy blanket and starts reading.

—

Easter holidays come and go. Ginny and her brothers stay at Hogwarts for the break. It’s so she can spend more time studying, she tells her mum in a long letter sent two weeks before the break. Besides, the twins are staying for Quidditch practice mandated by Wood, which means Harry is staying, which means Ron is staying to keep him company. Percy is also staying to prepare for his N.E.W.T.S.

Becca had been planning to go home to stay with her dad for the holidays, and so the morning of the train ride back Ginny waves goodbye and heads to the library with Colin, whose parents and little brother are gone on a visit to family in America.

She is going to uphold her promise to her mum and actually study, at least for the first few days. The two of them have covered every one of their subjects by the afternoon of the second day, and Colin demands a walk around the castle in order to “recover the sunlight” they had lost from spending so much time indoors.

They are in the middle of a walk around the courtyard of the clock tower, shuffling through the unlikely April snow that is persisting despite the bright sun above when Colin lets out a squeak and pulls Ginny down.

She feels the woosh of a projectile flying over her head and sees a ball of snow crash into a small drift a few meters away. Colin pops back up when the air seems to be clear of more flying snow and turns to Ginny with a gleeful expression.

“Snowball fight?” she asks, a slow smile spreading across her face. All he does is nod, and the two are off, running—more like slipping—down the path to the field outside the castle where Ginny can now see a collection of mostly Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs battling in two groups in an intense snowball fight, each side hiding behind a few mounds of snow. She spies Kat on one side, hiding behind a wall of her classmates and making snowballs to hand to them as fast as she can. Across the way, some of Colin’s dormmates are joined by a few older boys and some Ravenclaws, fighting back just as fiercely.

The Ravenclaws are in charge of making the snowballs, and they do so with a precision that seems to give that side an edge in terms of aerodynamics. The thrown snowballs whistle through the air, and those that don’t hit targets make deep indentations in the snow banks they do hit.

Ginny breaks off from Colin to go help Kat, which earns some shouts of “traitor!” as she is spotted by the Gryffindors. Kat just flashes her a grateful grin, and they begin to work together. Colin, it seems, decides to follow Ginny’s lead and joins them behind the Hufflepuff throwers, and slowly each side becomes equally covered in snow. A Hufflepuff girl a year older than Ginny is the best thrower they have, and as the others tire they crowd around her, blocking the snowballs launched from the other team while letting her fire off as many as Ginny and Kat and Colin can make.

Eventually, both sides lose steam, the snow around them depleted, and each admits a stalemate. A few who still have energy go off to continue the game in another area and the rest stay behind. Colin collapses into a bank and begins to swing his arms and legs.

Ginny holds back a laugh, asking, “What are you doing?”

“Making a snow angel!” Colin responds gleefully, sitting up when he sees the confusion on the faces of those around him. “Have you guys never made snow angels before?”

Ginny looks around and notices most of the students still here are pure-bloods or half-bloods, and all of them are shaking their heads.

“That is so sad. Okay, basically, you lay down in the snow and make an indent with your body, and then, you spread your arms out, move your legs back and forth, and it makes your imprint look like an angel in the snow. Hence, snow angel.” Colin explains this in tandem with a demonstration for the group.

“Why?” one of the students asks.

“I don’t really know. For fun? Just try it, it’s more fun than it looks.”

“It looks cold,” one student mutters, but Ginny stands up and follows Colin’s instructions. When she sits up, hoping her angel has been formed well enough, she sees other students have followed her lead and now a whole little circle of angels sit in the snow.

“What do you think?” Colin asks excitedly when everyone stands to survey their work.

“It was very cold,” Kat comments, regarding her own angel. “But I think it was worth it.”

Ginny nods in agreement, slinging one arm over Colin’s shoulder, and the other over Kat’s. “It was, but can we please go inside? The fire in the library is calling to us.”

Colin leans around Ginny, mock whispering to Kat. “I think the cold has messed up her hearing, I only hear the wind.”

“When I give the signal, we run for it,” Kat whispers back, and Ginny laughs. While she’s distracted, Kat shouts “Go!” and the two take off running. Huffing, Ginny gives chase, picking up some snow on her way.

“No fair!” Colin shouts as her snowball hits him square between the shoulders, and he stoops to pick up snow and retaliate. The snowball fight resumes between the three of them, who finally make it to the library ten minutes later, wheezing and covered in snow that instantly begins to melt in the warmth of the castle.

Madam Pince practically throws them out after a few moments, shouting about dripping water on the books, and they dry off as best they can, muttering to themselves.

The rest of the evening is spent between the library and the Great Hall, the three avoiding a return to their respective dorms in favor of staying up as late as Pince allows. But finally, the librarian sends them out again, and they let exhaustion from the day’s activities carry them off to their houses. Ginny’s eyes droop as she climbs into bed and pulls the curtains shut. She lets memories of the day play over again behind her eyelids, and falls into a dreamless sleep.

—

The final Quidditch match comes the first weekend after the Easter holidays. Gryffindor versus Slytherin, the most tense match of the year. The school was buzzing with anticipation leading up to it, and the morning of, Ginny walks into the Great Hall to see that most of the room is decked out in red and gold, a small scattering of green and silver spread throughout the other houses. The lone table of Slytherins sits in a sea of Gryffindor colors, and Ginny almost feels sorry for them.

But it's the Quidditch finals, and though Gryffindor supporters have been brutal to the Slytherin team, the other side has been ruthless in return. Harry had to walk with a guard of other Gryffindors around him just to stay safe from Slytherin students who were trying to take him out before the game.

It was a relief that the game had finally arrived with only minimal trips made by Gryffindor and Slytherin students to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey reportedly had been out of her mind with frustration over the two students who’d shown up with leaks pouring out of their ears.

Now, Ginny passes by Hufflepuff’s table, and Kat smiles at her from beside her classmates, a crimson scarf wrapped around her neck. She sees Claire at a table with her fellow housemates, though she looks entirely disinterested in the rivalry that has built up to its most tense moment, and instead is reading a book. The only sign of her house loyalty for the upcoming match is the silver snake pin she wears over her regular robes, which hisses at everyone who passes by it.

The crowd’s buzzing grows as the entire student body makes its way down to the pitch, the stands practically shaking with the roar of voices as the teams walk out and the captains shake hands. A deafening cheer as the teams kick-off, and it instantly becomes clear just how much animosity exists between the players. Angelina Johnson is the first to make a goal and is immediately rammed into by Flint, who receives a Beater bat to the back of the head from Ginny’s brother.

Hooch is screaming, trying to keep the players in line and doling out penalties all game, while Lee Jordan’s commentary is barely heard over the sounds of the watching students.

There are groans when Slytherin scores, cheers when Gryffindor does, and yells of outrage when Malfoy pulls out the entirely illegal and completely desperate move of grabbing hold of Harry’s broom to stop the latter from going after the Snitch. But Gryffindor keeps its lead, slowly building it up after a few misses due to the red rage Ginny doesn’t doubt each player is seeing.

And then they are all on their feet, cheering and clapping, truly shaking the stands this time as Harry drops into a perilous dive after Malfoy who’s caught sight of the Snitch.

Ginny can feel the vibration of excited screams as Harry pulls ahead and makes the game-winning catch rattle through her bones, and her voice goes hoarse from joining along. Becca is jumping next to her and Colin is so out of breath from cheering that his cheeks are bright, Gryffindor red.

We’ve won it, we’ve won it, we’ve won!

The cheers of the Gryffindors carry them out onto the field in a wave of crimson struck through with gold, hoisting the team high into the air and parading them to where Dumbledore waits with the Quidditch Cup. Ginny sees Wood sobbing next to Harry, and through all the joy and the high of knowing Gryffindor house has finally won, she feels a slight pang in her chest. Part of her is still hurt that she cannot be up there with the others, part of the team that brought this momentous victory to her house.

Next year, she promises with conviction.

No, a sly voice whispers back, using that moment of jealousy and sadness to crawl its way out from the depths she banished it to over weeks of effort.

Yes, she shoots back just as vehemently. Yes, next year I will be up there with my team, my housemates, celebrating another victory. You get no say in that.

A small chuckle is all that remains, echoing, but it is drowned out by the screaming and celebrating masses around her as they walk in triumph up to the castle. Ginny clutches Becca and Colin’s hands in hers and lets the victory and happiness distract her from the feeling that the voice won’t be gone for long.

Chapter Text

Exams come up quickly after the game, swooping in to take the place of the lingering excitement of Gryffindor’s win, turning the happiness into stress and late nights. With the end of the year also comes choosing the additional courses the second years can add to their original classes for the following year. Ginny and Becca chose Muggle Studies and Study of Ancient Runes, the former partially because Muggle Studies seemed an easy course and also because Ginny knew her father would be delighted to have someone else to discuss Muggles with.

Ancient Runes was a special interest of hers after seeing the language-changing book Claire had pulled from the shelf in the Room, and Becca had no draw to any other courses, so they decided to take the classes together.

It was during these weeks that the voice found its easiest entrance to the forefront of Ginny’s mind.

Her letters to Ms Hussain become biweekly, then triweekly, and the comforting speaker on the other end is almost a lifeline helping Ginny stay tethered to happy memories.

But of course, she can never fully escape the shadow Tom had left, and even in moments where she banishes his lingering voice, she is still reminded of the previous year by the general buzz around Hogwarts due to the exams. It was around this time that she had been taken into the Chamber, and no matter how many comforting words Ms Hussain speaks through their letters, Ginny just can’t forget the haze that surrounds her memories of going into the Chamber that final, fateful time.

So she wakes up in cold sweats, Becca right there to comfort her the few times she accidentally wakes up the other girls in her dorm, but most of the time she is alone at night to hug her knees to her chest and try to squeeze the bad memories out.

Still, the day is easier, and she does fine enough on her exams. Studying and Quidditch seem to be the two things that do the best job of expelling the voice from her mind, so every moment not spent in the library studying or in various classrooms writing until her hand cramps are spent in the Room. She flies around the pitch until the wind in her hair and the burn of her muscles drowns the memories.

Perhaps the biggest commotion of the year comes in the form of Sirius Black’s capture on the grounds of the school by none other than Professor Snape. Rumors fly that he was found in the Shrieking Shack, taken back to the school, and then somehow managed to escape. With these comes whisperings that Professor Lupin, considered to be one of the best teachers at the school despite his newness, is a werewolf.

Ginny hears all of this in the Great Hall one morning, and shortly after Professor McGonagall takes her to the hospital wing. There she finds Ron in a hospital bed, one leg wrapped in bandages, Harry, Hermione, the twins, and Percy by his side.

The three third-years act strangely, dodging questions about the origin of Ron’s injury, and every mention of Sirius Black from the others warrants a tightening of Harry’s jaw, a jump from Ron that he brushes off as pain, and a small concerned noise from Hermione. Ginny wants to ask questions but knows how cagey these three can be, and when Pomfrey comes back in to check on Ron’s leg, she leaves with her brothers, casting one backward look at the small group, talking intently.

The next few days are full of speculation about Black’s escape. Ginny doesn’t know what to think of it, considering there was really no possible way it could have happened. Many suspect Lupin; the knowledge that he is a werewolf apparently being enough to wipe away an entire year’s worth of good defensive training and trust built between the man and the students.

He resigns immediately and is gone by the end of the day.

Ron heals quickly enough and a few days later bags are being packed and the last feast is held. Ginny slips away after, letting Becca and Colin wander on to the common room, chatting aimlessly about their plans for the summer break. She finds an empty corridor and enters the Room one more time. Claire and Kat sit on the couch, talking, and Ginny thinks this may be the only time she’s seen Claire without a book in her hands this whole year. A few other students are milling about, and Ginny realizes that aside from her friends and Harper, she had never met any of the other students who had entered the Room.

“Ready to leave?” Kat asks as Ginny joins the two on the couch.

“Definitely,” Ginny responds. Then she casts a look around the room, and amends, “But also, no.”

Kat nods in understanding.

“It will still be here next year.” Claire’s voice is confident, but in her eyes, Ginny can see how much she will miss the safety of the Room. It certainly fulfilled its purpose for all of them, and leaving Hogwarts now will be much harder than last year.

They chat for a while, the girls filling Ginny in on a few of the other students she’s never seen before. One girl Ginny thinks she recognizes as a third-year Gryffindor, but then she notices the blue and bronze lining of her robes, the golden eagle stitched on her lapel.

“Padma Patil,” Claire says, following Ginny’s gaze. “Third year, Ravenclaw. Her twin sister Parvati is a Gryffindor. For some, that kind of separation isn’t easy.” But Padma looks calm, and comfortable as she chats with an older-looking Hufflepuff boy.

Eventually, the other students leave, until it is just the three of them. Kat stands finally, and Claire does too. They look down at Ginny, silently questioning if she wants to join.

She shakes her head. “I’ve got a little more saying goodbye to do.”

They leave, and Ginny stands. She makes her way first to the pitch, looking out at the perpetually bright blue sky, knowing that somewhere outside the castle walls the sun has actually set. She wanders through the locker rooms, her fingertips brushing over the locker where her gear is stored.

And lastly, she enters the alcove. The curtains are drawn back, letting in the light, and this time she closes them, wanting a moment in the darkness. The couch is empty, as if the Room knows she has no time for a new book. The grate of the fireplace still holds no wood, but the glass pot of Floo powder sits as full as ever.

Ginny takes a seat on the couch, relaxing back into the cushions. She closes her eyes, resting her head against the back, and takes a deep breath.

“Thank you,” she whispers to the emptiness. For giving me a safe place. A place without worry, a place where I can come to be away. Thank you.

—

The leave from Hogwarts the next day is barely controlled chaos. Ginny and Becca drag their trunks down the stairs of the dorms, almost losing their balance when a few first-years rush past them. The common room is packed full of students, and Ginny spots Ron pulling his trunk down the stairs, Hermione levitating it out of his hands right before he falls the rest of the way.

They find Colin in the mess and make their way to the Great Hall. The carriages are waiting outside, and before the three of them get pulled into a carriage with their housemates, Ginny hears someone calling her name and finds Kat waving, Claire sitting next to her. It’s a much better arrangement than the carriage ride at the beginning of the year, and Ginny is glad to have distractions from the shrinking castle behind them.

The group boards the train and finds a compartment together, the mix of houses earning some strange looks from others, especially Gryffindors and Slytherins, but none of them mind, spending the entire ride home talking about the events of the year and their plans for the summer. Somehow, Becca and Claire manage a whole conversation without their usual hint of animosity, and it almost seems to Ginny that the pair have begun to form a friendship, albeit a tense one.

Colin is dragged into a game of Exploding Snap, which, being Muggle-born, he has never played. Kat and Becca thoroughly trounce Ginny—who's never been very good at the game despite playing for most of her life against her brothers—and Colin in each round, and Claire watches in amusement over a book.

The trolley witch comes along one last time before they reach King’s Cross station, and this is a sign to begin changing into their regular clothes. Then all the students are pouring out of their compartments and onto the platform. Ginny finds Ron and his friends in the crowd, a small, blurry shape floating around his head and hooting merrily.

“What is that?” Ginny laughs, watching Ron move his head out of the way of the shape irritably. She realizes after a moment that it’s a small owl, and she watches him shoot around, Hedwig even looking embarrassed.

“Have you named him?” she asks, holding out her arm so the blurry ball of feathers can land. He does, hooting happily up at her.

“No,” Ron responds shortly. “Don’t want him to get attached.”

“Well I think he’s brilliant, and every brilliant creature deserves a name.” She sizes up the bird for a second, staring into its golden eyes.

“Pigwidgeon,” she says at last, and Pigwidgeon chirps in delight as Ron groans.

“It’s decided then,” Harry jokes, patting his mate on the shoulder. He and Ginny trade amused looks behind Ron’s back.

“Where’d the ball of fluff come from?” Fred and George approach their group, the twins squinting curiously at Pigwidgeon.

“This is Pigwidgeon, Pig for short,” Ginny introduces, and Pig flies up to zoom around the twins’ heads as they watch in delight. “Ron’s new owl.”

“Don’t do that,” Ron says in defeat. “Don’t give him a nickname.”

“Oh, don’t worry Ronniekins,” George says, throwing an arm around his brother's shoulder. “He only looks about a year old. Most owls live around ten years or so.” Ron groans.

Becca and the others already wandered off with their respective families, and now through the thinning crowd on the quickly emptying platform, Mr and Mrs Weasley find them easily.

Their loud group makes its way through the barrier, Harry and Hermione splitting off to their respective families. And then it is just the Weasleys heading off on their own. Without Harry with them, the Ministry-provided cars from the beginning of the year were no more, so Floo becomes their preferred method of transport once again.

After the rush of green fire and the uncomfortable feeling of soot up her nose, Ginny is finally home. The Burrow looks the same as it always has, but having not seen it in almost seven months, Ginny is glad to find that nothing has changed.

She drops her trunk and all her belongings in her room, hearing her brothers tromp upstairs, Ron shooing off Pigwidgeon as he goes.

While the house settles down, everyone busy with unpacking, Ginny sneaks out the front door. She walks the dirt path to the paddock, passing the broom shed as she does. Her fingers itch to get out one of the family’s Cleansweeps and shoot into the air, but she stops herself, instead choosing a spot in the shade on the cool grass.

She lays down, arms folded behind her head, and closes her eyes.

—

With summer break comes the return of Ginny’s training. She’s up early every morning, sneaking out now to avoid waking up the house that is much fuller this summer than last. She usually gets back about the time that her parents and Percy are up, though the rest of her brothers choose to sleep in hours into the day. She finds the loss of daylight horrifying but says nothing.

On some days, her brothers ask if she wants to join them in the paddock for a pickup game of Quidditch, and though she spends a portion of her morning running drills, she always has enough energy to show up her brothers. Fred and George, while having spent the last four years on the Gryffindor team, are not used to playing as chasers or keepers. Ron, however, knows a little about each position, so when the two of them team up against the twins he takes the goal and lets her fly circles around both twins, who switch off trying different tactics of getting the Quaffle from her.

After a few days, the boys grow tired of losing so much. Fred even remarks that she could give the three chasers on Gryffindor’s team some good competition, and a smile doesn’t leave her lips for the rest of the day.

Percy quickly becomes insufferable, taking a job at the Ministry that he treats with the same air of dignity and importance as his duties as prefect and Head Boy at Hogwarts. Fred and George snicker behind his back and tease him a little to his face, all under the disapproving eye of Molly, who congratulates her third son wholeheartedly. Now, Arthur and Percy are off early in the morning and home late for dinner many nights, and life goes on.

Being back home, Ginny’s weekly visits to Ms Hussain resume, though they quickly fall to only every other week as Ginny confides that their letters helped immensely. She can sometimes hear the voice in the early hours of the morning or late at night, but the comfort of home and the far distance from the dementors makes things easier. She still keeps the fang under her pillow, but as her dreams become less and less frequent she stops reaching for it, and it stays in its hidden spot most days.

Becca and Colin come to visit some days, the three of them going out to the paddock or even walking down to Ottery St. Catchpole, wandering around the Muggle shops and trying not to draw too much attention, though Ginny knows she looks wide-eyed as every strange Muggle thing catches her attention. Colin and Becca, both having been raised among Muggles, explain the odd things to her, like the giant telephone booths and the mailboxes, since Muggles apparently do not use owls to send their letters, and these sights only lead to more questions about Muggle forms of communication.

About halfway through the summer, Hermione comes to stay with them. It is announced a few days before by a beaming Arthur and Molly that the family is going to be attending the Quidditch World Cup at the end of the summer. Hermione is dropped off by her parents, who stay for dinner that evening and spend most of the time glancing curiously around the Burrow and answering the myriad questions Arthur has for them.

Hermione shares Ginny’s room, a rickety cot set up on the small amount of floor space next to Ginny’s bed. The two form a tentative acquaintance, unsure how to bond at first, but quickly they take up discussing Hogwarts, one of the few things they seem to have in common.

“Oh, I am so glad you chose to take Ancient Runes!” Hermione comments one evening when their conversation lands on Ginny’s new courses for her third year. “It’s easily one of the more interesting classes at Hogwarts, and the uses are undeniable once you start to understand it all.”

Ginny dodges Hermione’s question of what made her interested in the class, avoiding mentioning the Room in favor of a vaguely true lie that she saw a book that had a title written in runes. It wasn’t her fault Hermione interpreted this as the book being from the library.

“You must let me know how you like it,” the girl says, eyes aglow with delight. Leave it to Hermione Granger to be excited about a school class during summer break. “And Muggle Studies too; even for me it was interesting to take, but I decided to drop it. My schedule was a bit full.” Ginny held back a comment about Hermione’s previous course load, which she’d heard from Ron had been mental.

Somehow, the conversation shifts, and when Harry’s name is brought up, Hermione shoots Ginny a strange look.

“What?” Ginny asks, spying that glance through the darkness.

Hermione shrugs. “I remember a time when you couldn’t even hear his name without blushing. I’m just wondering when that all changed.”

This catches Ginny off guard. She supposes that since the events of the Chamber, she’s been trying to avoid Harry if she can. It’s hard since he spends so much time with her brother and they are in the same house, but looking at Harry’s face too long brings back memories of him a year ago, bent over her body, clutching a sword and a fang in his hands.

Ginny pulls up her shoulder nonchalantly. “I guess I just grew out of that crush.”

Hermione doesn’t look terribly convinced. “Well then,” she carries on, not sure how to proceed. “I suppose that’s good. It was rather awkward at times, and Ron wasn’t all that fond of you acting so strange around Harry…”

Ginny sees what the girl is trying to do, and nods along. “God, I was so awestruck, wasn’t I? Ron and the twins used to tease me all the time, and honestly I can’t blame them.”

The pair descend into giggles, the conversation flowing easier after that.

Hermione joins Ginny and her brothers on walks around the fields beyond the gates of the Burrow. They spend time in the paddock to get away from the summer sun and the watchful gaze of Molly. Some days, Ginny can see that Ron and Hermione would rather be alone, though the pair don’t even seem to realize it themselves. When she notices this, she slips off quietly, usually going for a run or out to the paddock with a broom.

Her birthday comes around a few weeks after Hermione arrives. It’s almost an exact repeat of the year before, only this time Hermione is drawn into the kitchen with Ron and Molly, the boys helping Arthur with the decorations, and Ginny, bored with nothing to do, goes outside to watch the twins shoot disparaging looks at Percy while he twirls his wand, finally home and able to do magic.

The twins, aside from losing to Ginny in their pick-up games of Quidditch, have been working on their own secret, shut up most days in their room, from which all manner of noises and smells emanate. Molly tuts every time she passes the door, but she respects her sons’ privacy, which Ginny knows takes much self-control.

Ginny watches the twins watch at Percy, muttering to each other, and she can practically see the gears turning in their heads, no doubt planning some prank to be pulled once the birthday festivities are over. She sidles over to them, and the twins, lost in their scheming, don’t hear her until she says, sticking her head between theirs, which are bent together conspiratorially, “If mum catches you two planning any sort of prank on Percy, I wonder how quickly she’ll come up with the idea of banning you from attending the Quidditch World Cup as punishment.”

The twins jump, spinning around to face her, where she blinks up innocently at them.

Fred gives her a dubious look. “Whatever do you mean dear sister.”

“We would never plan to play any sort of prank on our dear brother,” George chimes in.

“Of course not,” Ginny says with a smile, and walks away. She knows Percy could probably use a good kick in the arse after the way he’s been acting so superiorly since his Ministry job, but she also knows her brothers would never forgive themselves if they did something that got them banned from the World Cup.

It was a rare thing for the Weasleys, having enough money to spend on a trip like this, and with the twins’ appreciation of the sport, there was no way she would let them ruin it for themselves.

So the evening passes without complications, though Fred and George shoot her a few annoyed looks during dinner that she pretends not to see.

Bill and Charlie arrive a few days later, apologizing for missing her birthday and entirely making up for it with the gifts they bring. A week after that, Harry arrives at the Burrow in a flurry of activity.

Ron and the twins went with Arthur to bring Harry from his family’s home, the rest of them staying home to welcome Harry when he arrived. Fred and George are the first back with Harry’s trunk, followed closely by Ron. Harry and Arthur, however, are a few minutes later. When Arthur makes his way back at last, his face is red in anger.

Fred and George narrowly avoid Molly’s anger after dropping a piece of candy they call a Ton-Tongue Toffee for Harry’s cousin to find and eat, and Ginny shoots them an “I warned you” look as she, Harry, Ron, and Hermione wander upstairs to Ron’s room.

A few days after Bill and Charlie showed up, the entire house learned exactly why the twins spent so much time cooped up in their room. Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes are strictly banned by Molly in her anger, but of course, the twins persisted and seemed to think Dudley Dursley would be the perfect person to test some of their candies on after Ginny stopped them from pranking Percy.

The shouting ends after a few minutes, and all the anger cools off enough for a relatively calm dinner to be had. It is decided the twins will still be allowed to attend the game tomorrow, and they don’t waste much time shooting smug looks at Ginny, as if her warnings meant nothing.

She is sure it is only the presence of two guests in the house that stopped Molly from exacting her punishment on the boys, but nonetheless, the plans for tomorrow are still on, and the family goes to sleep, restless and excited to see what is quickly becoming the most anticipated game of Quidditch in years.

Chapter Text

The trip starts early that morning with meeting Amos and Cedric Diggory on Stoatshead Hill for a Portkey trip, something she never wants to do again, but the discomfort caused by their method of travel is soon overrun by the excitement of seeing all the preparations and the endless miles of tents stretching out over the fields.

The Muggle man checking everyone in looks befuddled, but the feeling of unease at the easy bewitching of Muggles for the wizards’ needs is gone quickly thanks to the rampant and contagious excitement that fills the air.

Bright green and red clash all over as fans of the two teams try to outdo each other in decoration and spirit. They walk past one of Ron’s classmates on the way to their tent, a Gryffindor boy named Seamus who sits with his mum and another fourth-year boy named Dean Thomas outside their ridiculously green tent. Oliver Wood also makes an appearance, looking almost as excited as he was after Gryffindor’s House Cup victory, and Ginny keeps her eyes peeled after that to see if any of her own classmates turn up. The assortment of tents in their varying hues hurt her eyes after a while though, the faces blurring together, and she gives up the search.

They find their spot after a few minutes of walking, and her father requests Harry and Hermione’s help setting up their two tents the “Muggle way”. The rest roll their eyes and watch in amusement, but eventually, the two tents are erected side by side. Though they look small on the outside, Ginny knows better and watches the expressions of awe on Harry and Hermione’s faces as the group enters the large tent, which opens into an expansive space with plenty of room for everyone.

Around noon, Bill, Charlie, and Percy arrive by apparition and join them, delight written across their faces from the sights and celebrations outside. Even Percy, who's been cooped up in his room writing reports, when he isn’t spending late hours at the Ministry, is clearly looking forward to the game.

Only a few hours had to be passed by waiting once they found their tent—and they did so through games of Exploding Snap and a few rounds of wizards chess, where Ron thoroughly defeated them all—as well as sitting outside so Arthur could introduce them to the many Ministry employees who pass by their tent.

Ginny laughs with her brothers at Percy’s obvious attempts to impress Mr Crouch when the serious-looking wizard shows up, Fred and George snickering the loudest as the man addresses Percy as “Weatherby”.

Right around sunset, merchants and vendors begin making their way down the rows of tents, selling all sorts of merchandise to support both teams. Ginny winds up with a shamrock badge that jovially shouts the names of the Irish players.

Not long after this, they begin the long trek through the flowing crowd, steadily up to the giant Quidditch stadium. As they get closer, Ginny needs to crane her neck far back just to see the top, the low light of the sun shining off the gold sides. They go up and up and up until they reach the very top of the stadium, where they can look over and see the entire field and all the one-hundred thousand witches and wizards filing into their seats.

It’s not long before the peace is disturbed by an unwelcome sight: the Malfoys have arrived. The boy, Draco, gives them all an arch look, mirroring the expression of thinly veiled disgust that his mother wears. Ginny meets his eye, refusing to look away. She knows what he thinks of her family, has heard her brothers speak of his smug and superior behavior both on and off the Quidditch field, and resists the urge to comment that he would do well to take notes on how real seekers fly as he passes her.

She won’t let a prat like him ruin her first Quidditch World Cup.

Cheers fill the stadium as Ludo Bagman enthusiastically introduces the mascots. The veela are out first, their song and dance so mesmerizing even Ginny finds herself captivated by the grace of their movements and the swirl of their golden white hair.

She’s shaken out of her daze by the boos that echo when the performance ends, and her face flushes in embarrassment, but everyone around her is more preoccupied with making sure Ron and Harry don’t leap off the edge of the balcony in their trances. Ginny laughs along with the rest and looks down at the field again, eager to be distracted by the next mascot performance.

The leprechauns put on a great show, and then the teams fly out, clapping and cheering likely drowning out Bagman’s voice for those who don’t sit as close to the announcer as she does. The game begins quickly, and she finds herself bending over the edge dangerously as she tries to get a glimpse of the match below. Blurs of green and red uniforms fly past, Bagman speaking unnaturally fast to keep up with the game's quick pace.

The stadium is thunderously loud, with screams and cheers and all sorts of noises echoing throughout. Even up near the top, such as they are, Ginny’s ears quickly begin to hurt from the volume. But she couldn’t have cared less.

Ginny’s hair whips around her face in the wind, and she watches with glee as the players zoom about below, trying to follow everything as closely as possible. Harry stands next to her, and she knows without looking that his face betrays his joy just as much as hers does. She also knows his eyes follow not the chasers or beaters, but the seekers, Krum and Lynch as they fly circles around each other and the other players, looking for the snitch.

But she’s too caught up in the movements of the chasers, who move so quickly she can barely comprehend any of the techniques individually, but rather the end result of each player’s positioning and the way they move seamlessly as a team. She wishes she’d gotten a pair of the Omnioculars like Ron and his friends, but she doesn’t let that ruin the thrill of seeing how perfectly the chasers work together with the beaters to dodge and weave and pass the Quaffle back and forth so fast Bagman can only call out the names of the players before another pass is made.

It’s Quidditch at its best.

It is in this moment, feeling the wind in her hair and her heart beating practically out of her chest in exhilaration that she feels more certain of something than she ever has before: she wants to play Quidditch for the rest of her life. She wants to always have this moment of watching a play come together so perfectly it's as if the players are one, but not only that—she wants to be a part of it, to feel the thrill of working with a team and the energy of rushing across a Quidditch field with the Quaffle tucked under her arm and hearing the roar of voices in the stadium around her.

For the first time since Tom abandoned his hold on her body, though not her mind, Ginny feels like her feet are planted firmly on the ground. The entire last year was spent fighting for control of her life again, and at this moment she is sure nothing can bring her down from this high, the ecstatic joy coursing through her.

Not even when Krum catches the snitch to end the game does her smile waver, because Ireland has just barely won by ten points, and it’s obvious the Bulgarian seeker’s decision was really more a decision to end the game on his own terms. Even though the seeker position holds no interest to her, she can appreciate how well Krum flew, especially since he managed to not once, but twice get the Ireland seeker, Lynch, to crash into the ground.

Lynch looks a little worse for wear when she sees the players up close as they come to the top box to receive their Cup, but he’s got a dazed smile on his face and Ginny watches the players in wonder.

The elation lingering from the game’s end doesn’t stop, the excitement and energy from the game spilling out of the stadium and coursing through the rows of tents as she and her brothers dance around in joy in the larger tent. Green and gold fireworks are set off among the leprechauns soaring overhead, giggling, as thousands of witches and wizards celebrate Ireland’s win.

Finally, Arthur convinces them all to go to sleep, and Ginny and Hermione head over to their tent, trading yawning goodnights as they climb into their beds. Ginny wishes she was awake enough for the pair to stay up and talk like they would do over the summer at the Burrow, but the early wake up this morning coupled with the draining excitement of the match has set her eyelids drooping, and she is too tired to do much except pull on her pajamas and fall into bed, the cushions and blankets like a warm hug.

It’s all ruined as screams wake her barely hours later. Arthur rushes them all from bed, yelling that there is no time to put on their clothes, and then he and Ginny’s older brothers get their wands out and hurry off to fight the source of the commotion. Ginny sees through gaps in the panicking crowds the black cloaks and bone-white masks of Death Eaters. She watches in horror as they do tricks with the Muggles suspended in the air over the burning tents like dolls.

Her brothers pull her along, and their small group runs for the nearby forest, pushing through the chaotic crowd of people trying to get away from the march of evil heading toward them.

The air is full of screams and yells, entirely different now to the ones from earlier in the night, the terror a mocking echo of the joy after the game.

Ginny stumbles and falls once, the twins stopping to help her up, and just like that their group is cut in half, Harry, Ron, and Hermione lost to them in the crowd.

Ginny is shaking, a terrible result of the adrenaline fueling her panicked flight from the tent, and George wraps an arm around her as Fred pushes ahead of them, clearing a path through the crowd and deeper into the woods. After a few long minutes of running, and then walking as the danger grows further and further behind them, her brothers pull to a stop and they wait, motionless, in the trees.

Try as she might, Ginny can’t get the awful image of the Muggle family out of her head, their bodies turning and moving in such unnatural ways up in the air. The little girl, with her pigtails and a vacant expression, the boy no older than four or five clutching a teddy bear, the parents in their nightclothes flailing about.

Closing her eyes just brings up those far too recent memories, and opening them only lets more horror in. She can see smoke, gray and illuminated by the fires below against the dark color of the night sky. The stars wink down at them as if nothing is wrong and through the boughs of the trees she thinks she can see shapes flying about.

Ginny’s staring at the ground, avoiding looking about in case any shadows take root in her mind and feed her darkest thoughts, when her brothers let out gasps of fright, and she follows their gaze up.

Her blood chills as the Dark Mark appears, bright in the sky, Voldemort’s symbol illuminating everything below it in shades of green.

“It really is them,” Fred whispers, his voice hoarse. “The Death Eaters.”

The three stare up at the sky as the snake winds its way through the open mouth of the skull, and Ginny’s mind goes blank.

She can hear what’s happening around her, hear her brothers whisper to each other in fear, hear the screams grow as more people catch sight of the Mark, but it’s all dim to her now. She can only see one face, one young, deceitful face as it greets her in the Chamber. And she can hear his voice now, coaxing her down the tunnel, to the foot of the giant statue.

The promises that all will be well, the words that quickly turn to menacing threats as she lies below him, staring up while his face becomes more opaque, feeling the life drain out of her slowly.

No, she pleads, but it’s too late, and there is nothing she can do to stop it.

Harry is gone, lost to the darkness of the woods, with no sword in hand or flaming red phoenix to deliver one.

Her fang is left behind in her room in the Burrow, tucked under her pillow where it’s been the whole summer.

Ms Hussain is at home, unaware of the danger those like her currently face only thousands of meters from Ginny at the hands of people who carry out the legacy of this world’s most evil wizard.

The wizard who nearly killed Ginny, the wizard whose voice has been plaguing her thoughts ever since, the wizard whose Mark is floating above her head, watching over the chaos caused by his servants.

She can distantly hear the voices of her brothers, now turned to her, now panicked as she doesn’t respond, but how can she?

Tom stands over her, watching her, sneering down, and she is just a little girl again, just a foolish little girl.

It all is too much, all too, too much for her, the memories crashing down in her mind, which scatters away in shards trying to hide. The last thing she sees before everything goes black is the skull grinning grotesquely down at her, the snake curling in the air as if poised to strike.

Chapter Text

Things come back into focus slowly. The first thing she notices is nothingness; the screaming has stopped. Then her eyes open and she sees twin crops of red hair, bright against the night sky beyond them. The faces below the hair are worried—horrified—and the mouths move as if trying to talk to her.

When Ginny is finally able to understand them, she sits up sharply, and their hands fly out to steady her shoulders.

“Easy,” one of them says, Fred, she realizes a moment later.

She gazes around, the woods now dark, the Mark in the sky no longer illuminating everything with its sickly green glow.

“Are you all right?” George asks carefully, his eyes worriedly scanning her face. Ginny doesn’t know what to do except nod, but the truth is she is anything but okay. Her arms shake as the twins help her up at her insistence, and her legs aren’t much better, but she stands.

“We should get back to the tent,” she croaks, her throat dry. Her brothers exchange a look of concern, but quickly move to support her when her first step is wobbly, and neither of them protest as they begin the long trek back to find their family. As they move, Ginny watches the scene around them. No longer are there shadows behind the trees, but orbs of light in the darkness as people search for friends and family.

When they reach the break in the trees she can see the fires have mostly been put out, and the sky is empty of any sign of the Mark. The Death Eaters have dispersed, though through the maze of tents and people Ginny can’t see any sign of the Muggles they’d been parading around earlier.

She hopes they’re okay.

Slowly, but surely, the trio reach their tent. They hear voices coming through the flaps to the larger one as they approach, and walking inside they see the group, complete except for themselves, sitting around the large center table.

Arthur is on his feet in an instant as he spots them. Ginny’s eyes travel over the rest of the group. Bill sits with a cut on his arm that, so far, no one seems to have thought to heal. Percy has blood covering his face as if someone punched him in the nose, and he lowers a bloody rag clutched in his hand as he watches them enter. The rest look okay, though a little banged up from the night's events, and all of them look slightly paler than normal at the sight of Fred and George holding her up.

“What happened?” Arthur takes Ginny from the twins’ hands and practically carries her over to a chair. She wants to protest that she can walk by herself, but it would honestly be no use.

“We don’t know,” Fred answers, taking a seat in one of the only empty spots, George following suit. “We ran into the forest, got separated from you three,” he gestures to Ron and his friends, “and then we saw the Dark Mark go up, and Ginny…”

He trails off, as if unsure how to explain the rest. Ginny takes over to spare him the trouble.

“I had a panic attack,” she says, watching confusion play across all their features. Except for Hermione’s, she notices. “That’s what Ms Hussain calls it, anyways. It’s when the anxiety in my body gets so intense it causes a physical reaction. I saw the Dark Mark, it reminded me of…” she takes a deep breath, “...of my time in the Chamber, and my brain kind of shut down.

“I’m fine now,” she swears, trying to assuage the intense looks of worry on everyone’s faces as they watch her. She can’t exactly look Harry or Ron in the eyes, as these two look the most horrified, and so she focuses on the understanding faces of Hermione and her dad. “There was just a lot happening and, well, it wasn’t exactly great given what happened to me last year, but I’m awake now aren’t I? I’m walking and talking and all that so… no need to worry anymore.”

Her dad doesn’t look convinced, but she sets her jaw and tries to look strong, tightening her muscles to stop the lingering tremors of adrenaline still moving through her body. She can feel a growing ball of anger in her stomach, fueled by everyone around her acting as if she’s a delicate glass doll that could shatter at any moment. She is fine, really, seeing the Dark Mark had just drawn up some bad memories, that’s all.

After a long moment, Arthur nods. “If you’re sure,” he says quietly.

“I am.”

It doesn’t take long for the twins to find some way of joking about the recent events. They do it to diffuse the tension, Ginny can tell, though she notices how they tactfully avoid mentioning the Dark Mark or what happened in the woods. This leads to the others recounting what they must have been discussing before Ginny and the twins returned.

Ginny tries to pay attention, aware that any sign of her slipping into her thoughts might be misconstrued as a reason to worry more over her, and she catches a few things about some unseen person using Harry’s lost wand to cast the Mark, and a poor house elf who was found with said wand, and then Arthur is rushing them all off to bed once more. They’re going to try and get an early Portkey home, not wanting to hang around the campsite much longer after recent events.

Ginny knows she won’t be able to get much sleep, but she tries nonetheless. Hermione doesn’t say much to her, merely tells her she is glad Ginny’s okay, and then the two are climbing back in bed.

It’s barely a few hours later that they are awoken once more, this time thankfully in a much less dire manner, and after packing up and making the long journey to the outskirts of the camp, they gather around a Portkey and finally return home.

—

Molly is frantic when they all arrive back at the Burrow, her face shining with worry in the low light of dawn. She hurries them inside, Arthur doing his best to calm her down. Fred and George receive unexpected hugs as Molly worries about how the last thing she said to them was in anger.

Ginny hangs back and tries to go unnoticed, and for a while, it works.

They all crowd into the kitchen, sitting around the table and discussing the previous night’s events. Arthur and Percy quickly bustle off to the Ministry to help, and Harry makes a very conspicuous excuse for him and his friends to escape up to Ron’s room. With two last hugs from Molly, Fred and George head off to their room as well, likely to count their earnings from their bet with Ludo Bagman before the game.

And then Ginny sits at the table with her older brothers and her mum.

Bill and Molly are speaking in low voices about last night, their mum looking for more assurances that everyone is okay, especially when she sees the last traces of the cut on Bill’s arm. When Molly asks again that everyone is okay, Charlie glances at Ginny, not sure if he is allowed to inform their mum about her panic attack in the woods.

Ginny tries to signal with her eyes that she doesn’t want Molly to know, but their mum is too hyper-aware of her children’s expressions, and she sees this glance. Ginny stifles a groan as Molly turns to her, concern quickly overtaking her features once more.

“Ginny, what happened?” her mum asks slowly, and Charlie takes that moment to leave, muttering a vague excuse that Molly doesn’t seem to notice. Her brother has never been very good at things like this, and probably thinks he is doing her a favor, she is sure. One less person to be present when Molly Weasley finds out her youngest child had a panic attack and fainted last night.

“I’m fine,” Ginny responds stubbornly, knowing exactly where this conversation will lead and feeling that hot ball of anger grow.

“Are you really?” Molly doesn’t look convinced, and Ginny sighs. Might as well get the inevitable over with.

“The Dark Mark just affected me a little worse than the others, that’s all.”

The concern morphs into worry.

“What happened?”

“I had a panic attack. That’s all. Fred and George were with me, so it wasn’t like I was alone or anything. And we went back to the tent straight away, so it was all fine.”

“Gin,” Bill says softly. She turns to look at him and shakes her head. But he carries on. “You need to tell her.”

“It was nothing. It was fine. I’m fine.”

“Bill, what do you mean? Ginny, what happened?”

“Ginny fainted Mum.”

Ginny glares daggers at her oldest brother, who doesn’t look apologetic in the slightest.

Molly looks horrified.

“How could you not tell me?”

“Because it was nothing! It is nothing! I’m fine, it was a very stressful moment but nothing bad happened, and I’m home now and safe, can’t we just focus on that?” Ginny can hear the desperation, the childlike tone in her voice, but all she cares about is convincing her mum that she is fine.

“Just because Ms Hussain says you are fine to go to Hogwarts does not mean you can brush over things like that! This is not the same as bad dreams at night, Ginny.”

“No, it isn’t, but it’s not like this is going to happen again. Hogwarts is probably the safest place I can go, no Death Eaters are going to go strolling around the school throwing up Dark Marks.”

“That is not the point.”

Ginny can feel the hot ball of anger grow and grow, frustration building up as Molly fights back. She tries to keep it back, to erect a dam that will stop it from spilling over. “But it is! You just want any excuse to keep me home, because you think I will be safer here. You want to keep an eye on me, to help me, but you can’t! None of you can. You weren’t there when I got the diary. You couldn’t protect me when I was so far away, but it doesn’t matter anymore because the only danger is my memories. There’s no changing that, whether I am home or at school.”

“Ginny,” Bill speaks up. “Maybe it would be good for you to stay home.”

The dam breaks.

“How would you even know what’s best for me, Bill? You haven’t seen me in years, you’ve been off in Egypt for so long. You left us!”

She knows it's too far as soon as the words leave her lips. Bill’s expression instantly turns from concerned to closed off and betrayed. Molly looks incensed.

“Ginevra Weasley!”

Instead of responding, Ginny turns and runs out the front door. She can hear her mum and Bill calling her back, but she doesn’t respond, just runs and runs through the stitch that quickly grows in her side, a result of the gasping breaths she takes as she tries to stifle the tears threatening to flood her vision.

She makes it out to the paddock, and by then she can’t hear them trying to call her back. Sitting on the ground below a tree, she pulls her knees to her chest, holding back sobs for as long as she can.

It’s not long at all.

With the dam broken, all the anger has washed away, and in its place is sadness and stress and fear and guilt. She lets the sobs shake her body, lets everything drain out of her as she cries.

The day grows brighter as the sun climbs its way over the distant hills, and all Ginny wants is to rest. She wants to sleep and let that take away all the things she’s been feeling the last few hours. The truth is, she admits to herself under the tree, that she isn’t fine. She doesn’t know how to be fine. But she does know with striking certainty that she doesn’t want to stay here. No matter what comfort the Burrow brings here, and no matter how safe she feels there, she needs Hogwarts. She needs her friends and Quidditch and the Room.

Her mum wants to protect her because she wasn’t there to do that when Tom took hold of her mind and body. And Molly can’t see that Ginny has gotten better. Despite the setbacks, despite moments of darkness, she is doing good now. So she can’t let herself give in and stay.

But she doesn’t know how to say this, how to convey this truth to her mum without breaking down in tears or screaming up to the sky and it’s all just so bloody frustrating and tiresome and… too much.

So instead, Ginny lets the sun warm her face and dry her tears. Her breath still rasps through her body, her muscles still spasm with dry sobs, her mind still reels as she tries to calm down enough to think. She sits there with the breeze in her hair, against her face, and waits.

—

She waits for nearly an hour, judging by how high up the sun is when she finally stands. She can hear distantly the sound of her brothers, and probably Harry and Hermione too, and follows that sound back to the Burrow.

It's been long enough that her tears have dried and her eyes are no longer red and swollen, her limbs no longer shaky as she walks.

Bill and Charlie stand at the gate, watching Ron and Harry degnome the garden. Hermione sits on the steps with a book, and Fred and George are nowhere in sight. Bill looks up when he hears her footsteps. He says nothing, just watches her, and she avoids his gaze. She knows she needs to apologize, to set things right before he and Charlie leave, but first, she needs a clear head.

The best way to get that is sleep. So she walks past them and into the Burrow. Molly is not in the kitchen or the living room, and for a moment Ginny thinks she just might make it to her room without running into her mum, but then there’s Molly, backing out of her room with a basket of linens.

They both freeze, and Molly’s eyes harden. But then she wordlessly steps aside, and Ginny passes her, closing the door softly. Her school supplies are sitting on top of her trunk, and on her bed is a set of dress robes. They are a beautiful royal blue, a color that will perfectly complement her hair. Molly got them, Ginny knows, before their argument this morning, but they were laid with such care on her bed that Ginny can’t help but hope for an easy reconciliation.

That will take a lot of apologizing and explanation on her part though, so she sets aside the robes, taking care not to let the garment wrinkle, and climbs into bed still in her clothes, no energy left to remove them.

Sleep comes faster than she expected, and she is thankful for the dark blanket of unconsciousness that settles over her.

Chapter Text

Ginny wakes again a little after midday. A faint fog of exhaustion still clouds her mind, but the general feeling that any slight provocation will lead to an emotional explosion is gone.

With this new sort of clarity comes instant and intense waves of guilt. She knows she needs to set things right with her mum and brother, but the most difficult part of that plan, she is realizing, is simply working up the courage to do it.

Ginny’s had rows with her parents and siblings plenty of times before, but never like this.

Finally screwing up her courage after laying awake, watching the light play across the ceiling, she stands. First, she decides to change, since the clothes she’d worn were from the previous day and were wrinkled from being slept in.

With a last deep breath, Ginny opens her door and walks out into the living room. It’s empty.

“They’re all down at the paddock.” Molly’s voice sounds from behind Ginny. She turns slowly and then meets her mum’s gaze. Molly looks tired but grim, and she bustles past Ginny on the way to the kitchen.

“Mum,” Ginny starts, hating the way Molly’s disapproval and anger show so clearly in her suddenly distant manner.

Molly turns her head slightly to the side, the only sign that she is listening as she sets about cleaning vegetables for tonight’s stew.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” Ginny blurts out before she can overthink what to say any longer. “I shouldn’t have said any of it. Neither of you deserved that. You especially didn’t deserve it, not after everything you’ve done to help me. I was angry and overwhelmed and everything came out all wrong. I know you just want to keep me safe, I do. And I want to feel safe, to be safe. I just also want to be happy, and even though I love the Burrow, I love Hogwarts as well. I need classes, and my friends, and magic. I can’t hide away here, even though some of me wants to.”

Ginny feels tears prick at the corners of her eyes but blinks them back furiously. She knows now is not the time for that; she needs to show that she is rational, in control of her emotions, and most importantly, mature enough that her mum can see how much this means to her, their open conversation.

“I’m sorry, mum,” she finishes softly, standing with her hands clasped together, resisting the urge to wring her fingers to give her some outlet for the nervous energy thrumming through her body.

After a long moment of silence, during which Ginny fights the urge to turn and run, Molly puts down her wand, the vegetables dropping to the counter. She turns around and walks to Ginny, and for a moment she is worried her mum will just walk right past her, but then she is being pulled into a hug and she’s once again blinking back the tears that welled up at the gesture.

“I worry about your brothers so much. I know Bill and Charlie are capable, but they both are so far away and their jobs can be so dangerous. Percy, I fear, will someday get so lost in his work that he will not remember to live his life. Fred and George are always getting into trouble and now they want to try and support their lives through careers as owners of a joke shop… And then there’s Ron. I adore Harry dearly, but no one can deny that trouble seems to follow that boy no matter how much he tries to avoid it. I’ve never worried for Ron as much in his life as I have the last three years.

“And I worried when you started your first year. I knew your brothers would look after you, but it was hard, having an empty house, having my children all off and away from me. If I could, and if you all would let me, I would have you all stay right here at home, where I can protect you all. I know that’s selfish, but it’s the truth.”

Molly pulls back out of the hug, looking Ginny in the eyes. “I know that there was nothing I could have done to help you that first year, truly I do. But I’ve somehow also convinced myself that I should have been there. Remembering to allow you your freedom and to trust you to know yourself has been difficult for me. I won’t hide that from you, and I know I need to change that. I’m sorry too, Ginny. When you told me that everything was fine, I should have listened and trusted your judgment. I still will be here if you ever need to talk, but I don’t want to force your confidence out of you.”

“Thank you,” Ginny whispers, her voice thick with emotion. She pulls her mum back into a hug, needing comfort and a place to hide her face from the returning tears. Now, she finally feels she can let them out, and Molly holds her, the two of them sharing in the bittersweet moment.

After a long time, they both pull back. Molly too looks misty-eyed and gestures vaguely to the front door. “Like I said, everyone is out at the paddock if you want to join them.”

Ginny nods, but hesitates.

“Actually mum, do you think I could help you with dinner first?”

Molly smiles. “Of course dear.”

—

The sun is halfway down the sky when Ginny and Molly are finally done preparing tonight's dinner. Everyone’s stayed outside the whole time, though a few have popped in for a few minutes before rushing back out. Ginny watched them all go, then busied herself with chopping the carrots or dicing the onions.

When all is done, Molly gives her a stern look.

“I’m grateful for your help, but you can’t avoid your brother forever.”

She’s right, Ginny knows it, and so she ducks into her room to change into some less nice clothes and jogs out to the paddock. As she gets closer she slows, catching her breath and thinking over what to say. Something along the lines of “I’m sorry, I was an arse, I shouldn’t have snapped.”

Simple.

Still, her nerves come back when she sees the three-on-three game happening above. It's Harry and the twins against Ron, Bill, and Charlie. Not the fairest matchup since Harry and the twins have been flying together for three years, but Bill and Charlie have size and age on their side. From what she can see, Harry and Ron are keepers while the others grapple for the Quaffle. Hermione watches from a shady spot on the grass, although that is a generous way to describe the complete lack of attention she gives the game above. Most of her attention goes to a thick tome in her lap, though occasionally when the boys get a bit too loud or boisterous she will shoot them a reprimanding look none of them notice.

Ginny takes a seat next to her, happy to watch for a while, though quickly she begins to wish she could fly up and join them. But even with Harry’s Firebolt in the mix—which she can tell he is not utilizing to its full capabilities so as to make the teams more evenly matched—there are only enough brooms for the six of them.

“I don’t know what anyone finds so interesting about this sport,” Hermione comments to her, casting a dubious glance up where one of the boys wobbles precariously on one of the old Cleansweeps.

Ginny shrugs. “I like the teamwork and the exhilaration from flying and the feeling of winning, but some like it for the glory or the freedom it gives them, being up so high.” She watches Harry, sees how he looks so relaxed, at ease, up on his broom, and wonders what Quidditch is for him.

Hermione just hums and goes back to her book, leaving Ginny to observe her brothers and Harry. It’s clear that Charlie used to play, and though Bill was never on the Gryffindor team, he still is capable. Ron is the most inexperienced flier, though he holds his own thanks to years of playing against their brothers out here in the paddock. The other three are obviously the best fliers, the twins working together through their own secret communication, Harry catching on as he needs to, used to flying with them enough to understand their patterns and inclinations.

Ginny finds herself suddenly envious that all of her brothers have had this connection, a way of bonding that's been hidden from her. Even though Bill taught her to ride a broom years ago, she was never exactly included in their games and had to watch from afar until she decided to borrow the brooms when no one was watching and fly by herself.

She tells herself it’ll be different this year, that she will be flying on the Gryffindor team alongside her brothers, and that she will finally join in their games.

It will be different. She knows it.

Another few minutes pass, and the current game ends. Fred and George call for another round, grins on their faces cause they keep winning. Bill waves them off, flying down to the ground. He lands next to Ginny and Hermione, and Ginny stands, figuring that now is as good a time as any to talk to him.

Bill gives her a hesitant look as he lands, and she feels guilt roll in her stomach. He leans the broom against the tree, Hermione so absorbed in her book that she doesn’t even look up, and then he starts walking toward the house. Ginny falls in next to him, and both of them are silent for a few moments. When they are a reasonable distance away from Hermione and the others, Ginny grabs her brother’s arm, stopping him.

“I’m sorry Bill. You didn’t deserve that, and I didn’t mean it-”

“Well you weren’t exactly wrong,” Bill interrupts, a subtle look of anger in his eyes, like earlier, but now based on his words Ginny wonders if that wasn’t anger at her but rather himself.

“I wasn’t here. I haven’t been here, not for a while. I’ve been working, so much so that sometimes coming home just seemed like too much.”

“You were busy. That’s normal, and we all understand that your job is important. I was out of line when I said that.”

Bill shakes his head. “Yes, I am busy a lot. But never so consistently busy that I can’t come home occasionally to visit. You were right, I wasn’t there. I only heard about what happened from Dad and the others last summer, and even then I didn’t have the decency to come home for your birthday. Charlie at least had a proper reason, what with that new Ridgeback being a pain in his arse at the sanctuary. But I didn’t. I’m the one who should be sorry.”

Ginny opens her mouth, about to protest, but thinks better of it. The apologies could go in circles for forever, so instead she pulls Bill into a hug, letting herself miss her oldest brother without the anger from earlier mixed in.

“I promise I will visit more. Fred and George told me you have a fighting chance to make the Quidditch team this year. Maybe I can come see a game?” Ginny nods, smiling. A new burst of confidence floods through her at these words: she will make the team, and get to play alongside her brothers, and Bill will come home more often.

When they finally pull back, the guilt and anger are gone from Bill’s eyes, and instead, he is grinning.

“I’ll leave you to practice then. Don’t want you to get too rusty.”

“I’ve been sneaking brooms out of the shed to fly since I was six. That will never happen.”

Bill laughs and continues his walk back to the house. Ginny watches him go for a moment, then turns back to the paddock. She spies the boys still floating above, likely waiting for her to fill Bill’s spot on the team. Harry, she notices, is watching her approach while the others argue over whether to change teams or not.

No, actually, Harry isn’t watching her. His eyes follow the retreating figure of her brother, and she can tell his mind is entirely distant from the argument happening right next to him. He snaps out of it as she hops on Bill’s abandoned broom, which sits next to a still-reading Hermione, and she flies up next to him. He looks a bit like a startled animal, like he’s wondering if she caught him staring. Before either can say anything, Fred flies over to fling his arm over Ginny’s shoulder.

“Dear sister, maybe you can settle this debate for us.”

“We were just trying to decide how to split the teams up again so that everything is fair,” George chimes in.

“The twins just know that you are the best chaser here, and they want you to help them win,” Ron cuts in, throwing an annoyed look at the twins, who don expressions of faux innocence.

Ginny hums, pretending to look perplexed. “I think it’s only fair that, since Charlie and Ron just lost their teammate, I take his place. That way we don’t have to decide who goes with who again.” The twins shoot her matching looks of betrayal and Charlie and Ron high-five. Harry looks distantly alarmed, as if he knows his abysmal keeper skills won’t hold up against her as they did the others.

She just gives the other team a sweet smile and flies down to grab the Quaffle, then joins her team on the other side of the field.

Charlie and Ron welcome her graciously, and Ginny feels the adrenaline and thrill of the game begin to spread throughout her body as she and her brothers plan the best strategy for crushing their opponents.

Maybe, she thinks, today will be a good day after all.

—

The agreement is this: Ginny will continue to send letters to Ms Hussain through Molly. Molly also requests at least one letter a month, a way for the two to maintain open communication and to assuage Molly’s worries.

Ginny is surprised she isn’t required to do anything more and accepts with no complaints. She too wants to mend the memories of the past and is planning to keep her mum as informed as possible about what is going on. There are some things she expects will not be mentioned to her mum, however, like the new nightmare she had that night—the green skull floating above but the snake slithering down to swallow her whole. That might just be something only Ms Hussain hears about.

Ginny finds herself hesitating later on, sitting before her open trunk into which she has packed most of the things she will be taking with her. On top of her books, robes, and other various school supplies, she placed a few nonessentials that she’ll bring, including her copy of Quidditch Through the Ages and the blue dress robes Molly got her.

She glances at her bed, to the pillows, under which hides the fang. Memories of the previous night rise up unbidden in her mind, and she furiously tramps them back down. Standing, Ginny climbs onto her bed, pulling the fang out from its hiding spot. She stares down at it, cool and smooth in her hand, the stain of black ink darkening the tip.

Hermione walks in suddenly, just back from the bathroom, and Ginny hides the fang from her, startled.

“Still packing?” Hermione glances at the open trunk. Ginny only nods, and Hermione sends her a commiserating look.

“Bring plenty of warm clothes. You’ll be able to go to Hogsmeade this year, and it’s fun, but you quickly freeze on the walk there.”

“Thanks,” Ginny says, pretending to shove a scarf or two in with her robes, but instead taking the opportunity to shove the fang deep into the depths of the trunk. She can manage one night without it under her pillow, especially if it means she won’t forget to pack it tomorrow.

Hermione puts out the light a few minutes later and they lay in the darkness. Ginny hears the other girl’s breathing even out soon, and knows Hermione is asleep. But she lays awake for a while, watching shadows cast by the moon play across her ceiling.

The next morning they prepare to leave for Hogwarts. Ginny is in the kitchen when a commotion starts in the living room. She hears something about Amos Diggory’s head in the fireplace, and then her dad is rushing around trying to get ready, explaining to Molly that someone named Mad-Eye Moody is about to be arrested.

Ginny wonders for a moment who would be named something like Mad-Eye Moody, but then Molly is hurrying everyone off to finish getting ready. Charlie lets something slip about coming to visit during the year, and suddenly all the adults are tight-lipped as they refuse to answer any questions. Ginny knows this must be related to the secret event happening at Hogwarts that Arthur and Percy have been hinting at all summer, but the train is about to leave and Becca is trying to keep Colin from falling out a window as he waves her over to their compartment.

She puts all of this out of her mind and joins her friends, letting their chatting and excitement for the new school year carry the conversation all the way to Hogwarts.

Chapter Text

The rain that followed them the whole train ride comes down harder and harder as they get closer to the school. By the time they arrive, it’s raining in sheets so visibility is limited to barely a meter. The carriages become a refuge for the students, at least until the gates appear and there’s another mad dash inside.

Peeves is above tossing water balloons down onto the rushing students, and Ginny and Becca just barely manage to sidestep some, grabbing Colin as they go, though Peeves takes a shot at their retreating figures. Barely making it to the Great Hall, Ginny and her friends walk among the other students sopping wet from the rain and Peeve's antics, and find a spot at the quickly filling table.

Colin jumps up almost as soon as they sit down.

“I’ll be right back, I’ve got to go talk to Harry.”

Ginny and Becca share a look as Colin finds Harry and begins talking animatedly. The room fills quickly as students make their way out of the entrance hall, and Colin finally sits back down next to them just as McGonagall leads the first years in. Colin waves energetically to his younger brother, who he points out to Ginny and Becca as the small boy at the end of the line wearing what looks like Hagrid's large coat.

The sorting hat performs its song and the sorting begins. Colin’s brother Dennis is sorted into Gryffindor and joins their table.

“I fell in the lake!” he crows, shaking from excitement or cold, Ginny can’t tell.

The feast passes quickly, with Ginny and her friends spending most of the time telling Dennis everything to be prepared for now that he’s started at Hogwarts.

The announcement that everyone is waiting for comes at the end of the feast. Most students have heard about the secret event that would be happening at Hogwarts through the gossip mill that is the Hogwarts Express, and when Dumbledore stands up to speak at the end of the feast, the tension and excitement in the air is palpable.

But Ginny isn’t ready for the news that Quidditch will not be happening this year. Dumbledore’s words crash through her, and she sits there in stunned silence as the twins and other players across all houses shout in surprise and anger. Even when the entire announcement is interrupted by the entrance of Mad-Eye Moody, who it is explained is filling the empty role of the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, she cannot bring herself to react with the same murmuring wonder and interest as the other students. Even when everyone’s mood shifts to excitement again as Dumbledore explains that the long-awaited return of the Triwizard Tournament is to blame for the beloved sport being canceled this year, Ginny cannot find it in herself to smile through the disappointment rolling deep in her stomach.

Even if the tournament did not have a mandatory age restriction, she was never going to try and compete. She’s heard of the tournament, knows how dangerous it is, and regardless, the only glory she ever planned on winning for herself was through Quidditch. That was her passion, and now she was forced to wait another year to see her dreams fulfilled.

Her mood stayed sour the rest of the evening, though Becca and Colin tried to help, though Dennis’s story of falling in the lake and being pulled out by the giant squid had the students around her in tears of laughter. She barely remembered to get the fang out of her trunk, its soothing presence a near necessity now.

Placing it under her pillow, Ginny tries to get the loss of Quidditch off her mind and instead thinks of all the positives that this year will bring, like Hogsmeade visits and her two elective classes. Eventually, she drifts off to sleep.

—

Ginny wakes sometime in the middle of the night, a scream dying on her lips. She sits up in her bed, shaking silently as she tries not to wake the other girls in the dorm. The dream that led to this is already fading, but she can still remember a glowing green form and is sure it’s a return made by her nightmare from the previous evening. She reaches under the pillow, feels the fang lying there, and lays back down, steadying her breathing as best she can.

Write to Ms Hussain tomorrow, she tells herself. She uses the assurance to coax herself back to sleep, which is thankfully untroubled for the rest of the night.

The next morning, the halls are abuzz with conversation about the Triwizard Tournament. Even students who won’t be able to compete are thrilled to have the tournament reinstated, and students who are of age seem to already be planning their potential victory.

Ginny’s mind strays to Quidditch many times throughout breakfast, but Becca and Colin keep pulling her back into their discussion of their upcoming classes. Today brings their first lessons for the electives they chose last year; for Ginny and Becca the day starts with Muggle Studies and then ends with their Study of Ancient Runes class, though Colin will only be joining them for the latter, as, being Muggle-born, he had no need to take Muggle Studies and so instead will be braving the cold and wet for Care of Magical Creatures.

Muggle Studies is taught by Professor Burbage, a kind-looking witch who greets each of the students with a bright smile as they enter her class. Ginny is surprised to find that the class has a solid mix of houses in it. Gone are the days of only one or two houses sharing a period due to the many choices for electives.

Kat and Claire are both in this class as well, and the four of them find seats near each other, Ginny watches the rest of the students file in.

“Hello and welcome to Muggle Studies!” Professor Burbage smiles widely at the class. “I’d like to start by thanking you all for taking this course. It is important that, just as you learn about other magic users in your required courses, you also gain an understanding of the non-magical humans who share this planet with us. The Ministry strongly advises wizards to limit contact with Muggles, since it is very easy for a slip-up to lead to a breach in the Statute of Secrecy. I believe, and I hope you will all agree with me by the end of the year, that if more of us simply knew what stark differences there are between the way we live with magic and the way Muggles live without it, coexisting in secrecy would not be as imperative as it is thought to be.

“But I’m getting ahead of myself there. For now, we will start this course with a little history lesson on some of the earliest known instances of Muggle-wizard interactions. If you could all turn your books to the first chapter, let us begin.”

All in all, it was a much more interesting class than Ginny expected. She knew that by the end of the year, she’d have plenty to discuss with her dad, who had been thrilled to hear she was taking that elective. Becca agreed with Ginny that it was going to be a lot more interesting than she’d thought, and she and Claire began discussing some things they expected to come up later on in the coursework. Ginny and Kat just let them talk, occasionally sharing confused looks at some things they heard their friends mentioning.

After Muggle Studies, Becca and Ginny wave goodbye to Kat and Claire and make their way to Charms, which the Gryffindors have with the Ravenclaws. They duck across the Astronomy Tower Courtyard, trying to avoid the rain as much as possible and take the stairs up to the second floor slowly, so as not to slip.

Flitwick stands at the front of the classroom on a stack of books, beaming as his students enter.

When they’ve all settled in he announces that, following their conclusion last year with the summoning charm Accio, this year they’d start with the banishing charm Depulso. He waves his wand and thin books appear in front of every other student.

“Please get into pairs,” he says, “and practice pushing your book toward them. Please be aware of other students around you, and try to avoid hitting anyone with a book or spell.”

Ginny and Becca pair up, and next to them is a pair of Ravenclaw girls. One of them Ginny thinks she recognizes, her distinct white-blond hair bringing up a distant memory. She realizes, later in the class as she watches the girl while Becca squints in deep concentration at the book before her, that it is Luna Lovegood, whose family is one of the few, like the Diggorys, that live in the same area of the countryside as the Weasleys. This realization may or may not be helped by the exclamation of “Very well done, Miss Lovegood!” by Flitwick when the girl becomes the first in their class to move her book.

Luna’s partner looks supremely put out, her perpetual frown that seems to be a result of her partner deepening at Flitwick’s words, and after class Ginny hears her and some of the other students whispering together.

“Can you believe it?” Ginny hears one of them seeth. “Loony Lovegood was the first in our class to manage the charm.”

The whole group walks off, muttering to each other, and Ginny sees the subject of their hate strolling along behind them, a serene smile on her face as if she isn’t close enough to hear every nasty thing her housemates say about her. Ginny watches her the whole way to the Great Hall, wondering how she isn’t hurt that the other Ravenclaws are being so cruel.

She brings this up to Becca, who shrugs.

“I’ve heard from a couple of Ravenclaws how she’s a bit… strange. She’s got a different way of thinking about things, is all. Some people find that offensive. That’s their problem, and good on her for not taking it to heart.”

Still, it puts Ginny on edge, and when she sees Luna again in their Ancient Runes class after lunch, looking for a place to sit as the other Ravenclaw students in the room pretend she isn’t there, Ginny’s had enough.

“Sit with Colin,” she mutters to Becca, before separating from her friends and walking over to Luna.

“Would you like to be my partner?” she asks, gesturing to the desk next to where Colin and Becca now sit, watching her, perplexed. Luna accepts with a smile, her clear blue eyes bright.

Some of the Ravenclaws give her odd looks, but she ignores them, instead turning to the girl now sitting next to her.

“Ginny Weasley,” she says, extending her hand.

“Oh, I know,” Luna responds easily, though she shakes Ginny’s hand all the same. “We don’t live that far away from each other, do we? And my father has always admired your father, says more wizards should be brave enough to be interested in things the Ministry doesn’t approve of.”

Ginny assumes this is in reference to Arthur’s strange fascination with Muggles, which she didn’t realize many outside of her family were aware of.

“Our families used to be closer you know,” Luna continues, as if she read the confusion in Ginny’s mind. That was before my mother passed. After she was gone, my father got a little more protective. He didn’t want me to go far from home as much. It’s okay if you don’t remember, you haven’t been as protected from wrackspurts as I have. They can make your brain go all fuzzy, and I suspect that damages memories.”

She says this like it’s the most normal thing in the world, and though Ginny has no clue what wrackspurts are, when she sees a nearby pair of Ravenclaws snicker to themselves, she defiantly nods as though she understands completely what Luna means. Becca and Colin shoot her twin looks of confusion, but they are unable to ask what’s gotten into her, as Professor Babbling enters and begins the lesson.

Ancient Runes is a largely theoretical class, Ginny learns quickly, and though she isn’t entirely opposed to that, she wonders if it will be worth taking this course in the end.

Thus ends her first day, and Ginny is glad that it’s a Friday, as she hadn’t yet found any free time to visit the Room. But, tomorrow is Saturday, and that is the first place she goes following breakfast.

Claire and Kat are already there, sitting on the couch, Claire reading a book and Kat chatting amicably about her summer. Both look up as Ginny enters, and much to her surprise, Claire puts down her book.

“I saw you were talking to Luna Lovegood yesterday,” the girl says in lew of a greeting.

Ginny nods, sitting down in the empty spot. “I didn’t even realize you were taking Ancient Runes.”

“I know. You were too busy being a bloody stubborn Gryffindor and pissing off those Ravenclaws.”

“Some had to, if you ask me. They’re absolutely awful to her! I mean, yes some of the things she says are a little odd, but then again we all have our own idiosyncrasies after all. That’s nothing to be an arse about.”

Claire gives her an assessing look that Ginny wishes she could avoid. Kat breaks the tension quickly forming by asking Ginny how she is following the announcement that the Triwizard Tournament is taking the place of Quidditch. Ginny groans in despair, though she’s happy for the distraction from Claire’s knowing look, and leans back into the cushions.

“Maybe if I were actually old enough to compete, or if, like my brothers, I had some master scheme to trick the age restriction and get my name in. But even if that were true, I don’t even want to compete! I just want to play Quidditch, but now I have to wait another year.”

She casts a woeful look out the windows, where she can see the three goalposts of the Room’s Quidditch pitch.

Kat pats her shoulder commiseratingly, and Ginny sighs.

“Think of it this way,” Claire suggests, opening her book again. “It’ll be entertaining to see your brothers try and trick their way into the tournament, and then if they actually make it, you can cheer for them.”

“But didn’t you hear Dumbledore?” Kat asks worriedly. “There have been deaths in the past, that’s why they stopped the tournament.”

“Fred and George won’t make it in, I know it.” Ginny looks back to the bookshelf, letting her gaze wander as she talks. “No matter how good they are at tricks and schemes, they can’t beat any magic Dumbledore can conjure up.”

She lets out an involuntary giggle. “You’re right though Claire. It will be fun to see them try.”

The three of them smile and share a laugh, each imagining what the outcome of such an attempt might look like.

After a while of sitting around and chatting, which is occasionally broken by the entrance of other students—which, Ginny realizes, is the only time she has seen this many students enter the Room—Kat leaves, wanting to head off a little early to talk to Professor Sprout about something before lunch.

Ginny stares at the bookshelf and thinks, her mind going over the last day. She remembers the taunting Luna faced, which seems to be a regular thing. And then a question rises to the forefront of her mind, and she sits forward and turns to Claire.

“Why is Luna not a member of the Room?”

“How do you know she isn’t?”

“I- I guess I don’t, but the way you talked about her earlier didn’t make it seem like you knew her all that well, not in the way you would if she had been invited in.”

“Well, you’re right. She isn’t a member.”

“But why not? Of anyone who might need a safe place to be themself, Luna especially would.”

“Would she?”

“Of course!”

“Are you sure? Think of everything you know about her so far. Would she really need a place like this?”

Ginny thinks over all that she’s learned about Luna in the past day. People think she’s odd, her housemates tease and taunt and whisper about her. They think she’s strange. But, Ginny realizes, that doesn’t bother her. Despite the cruel words of the Ravenclaws following their Charms lesson the day before, Luna had maintained a serene smile and it was almost as if she hadn’t heard the other students at all.

Ginny sits back into the cushions, a little defeated.

“I suppose not. No matter what people say about her, it’s never going to affect her.”

Claire nods, and the two say nothing more.

After a long moment, Ginny stands and makes her way to her alcove. Despite sitting empty for months, the air is fresh, and no dust lingers over the mantle or couch. Ginny casts a hopeful glance inside the fireplace, but still, no wood sits in the grate. The Floo powder is in the same place as always, just as full as the first moment she entered this room. The empty picture frames catch her eye now, and she wonders how she never got around to filling them. That is something to talk to Colin about, as he knows more about developing film than she does.

A strange-looking magazine sits on the couch, she notices, and upon picking it up—it appears to be the latest edition of The Quibbler—she immediately spies the author’s name hidden down near the bottom of the front page: Xenophilius Lovegood.

Opening the magazine and beginning to read, Ginny quickly realizes why so many students mock Luna, and where the girl gets the ideas that result in this mocking. Many of the articles seem to be more conspiracy-based than fact-based, though one could say the same of some of the Daily Prophets' more sensational and tabloid-like articles.

Ginny reads the whole thing, some of the stories earning a laugh out of her, others making her question the sanity of the author. But by the end, she still can find no reason why the strange theories promoted by this zany publication should earn Luna the cruel treatment she receives.

A growl in her stomach leads her to head off to the Great Hall for lunch, leaving The Quibbler behind in her alcove. On the way, she sees Luna walking alone through the halls and catches up to her. The girl greets her with a friendly smile.

“I just read this month’s edition of your dad’s magazine,” she tells Luna.

Luna beams at her. “That’s wonderful! What did you think of Rutherford Arnold’s article about the crumple-horned snorkacks of Sweden?”

Ginny is at a loss for words for a moment. The article in question did not entirely make her question the sanity of the author, though it did seem to be based largely on conjecture and unreliable accounts. She doesn't say this but rather complements the author’s commitment to gathering evidence of the creature’s existence.

They separate at the entrance to the Hall, Luna suggesting they reconvene later to discuss the recent photographs taken in a forest in Sweden that many believe show evidence of the crumple-horned snorkacks’s existence, and Becca and Colin are quick to question Ginny on her very recent friendship with Luna.

Ginny deflects, and though she knows Becca can see right through her, she is thankful for Colin accepting the change in conversation Ginny offers, and they all begin to plan a trip to the library after lunch to get a jump start on the homework they already have.

Even after hours of cramming her brain full of the history of Muggle-wizard relations and the basic letters and numbers of the runic alphabet, Ginny’s mind can’t stray far from the strangeness that is Luna Lovegood, and that night when she lays down to sleep, her newest nightmare is thankfully replaced by a rather odd dream where a large, bright purple beast with a long, golden horn charges through the halls of Hogwarts, only going after the Ravenclaws.

The next morning, Ginny wakes up well-rested for the first time that week.

Chapter Text

Snape peers down into Becca’s cauldron, where a near-perfect shrinking solution bubbles. To Ginny’s immense satisfaction, he looks extremely put out that he can’t find anything wrong with the color, texture, or smell. In the end, he settles for suggesting Ginny pay more attention to her partner’s method of preparing potions, that way her own might not be so “absolutely putrid and ineffective.”

Becca beams as they leave the dungeon, and despite the dressing down Snape gave her own potion, Ginny is smiling too.

“That’s the nicest thing he’s ever said about my potion!” Becca says.

“What, nothing?” Colin jokes; his own potion had been thoroughly insulted when Snape had reached his table.

“Exactly! He had nothing bad to say. He even suggested that Ginny could learn from me. I’m breaking his will.” She says the last bit with an almost evil glint in her eyes, and Ginny laughs, happy to see her friend is finally being recognized for her talent. And it's good to see Snape brought down a peg and be rendered unable to criticize a Gryffindor student’s work.

Their first full week of classes starts with Herbology, Potions, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. By the end of lunch, all the third years are buzzing with excitement. Only a few other classes have done D.A.D.A. so far, but the rumors of Moody’s apparent skill, as well as his paranoia, have spread like wildfire through the school. Ginny remembers his rather intense entrance the previous week, and wonders if this year might somehow top the last in terms of the fun they had in the class.

Everyone is early to D.A.D.A., wanting to find good seats near the front. Ginny, Becca, and Colin—Gryffindors have this class by themselves—find seats near the middle, surrounded by the whispering voices of their classmates. The distinct clunk of Moody’s walk is heard after a few minutes, and the students quickly fall silent in anticipation.

Moody enters, looking just as imposing and serious as ever. He carries a big trunk at his side, and he lugs it into the room, placing it right before his desk.

“Out of your seats!” he barks. “Put your books away and get your wands out.”

The third years scramble out of their seats and stand up, wands in hands. Moody flicks his wand, and they all collectively gasp as the desks go flying between them, some over them, to the back and sides of the classroom.

“Your last professor was kind enough to leave me with a boggart under the desk to begin our lesson this year. I managed to get it into this trunk here, so you all will be able to get some practical application in.

“Now!” He raps his knuckles on the desk and they all jump. “Before we start, you all need to know about the creature you are fighting. Who can tell me about boggarts?”

A few hands raise tentatively, and Moody points to Laura, one of Ginny’s dormmates.

“I know it takes the shape of your greatest fear,” she says quickly. Moody nods sharply.

“Very good. Boggarts have no shape, and instead take on the form of the greatest fear of whoever it encounters. To fight it, who can tell me what a wizard can do?”

No hands go up this time, and Moody shakes his head. “Laughter, that’s the only way to truly fight and kill a boggart. But how to make the situation humorous, when one is facing their greatest fear, is what you need to know.

“Without your wands, repeat after me. Riddikulus. Do you all have the pronunciation down? Good. When you cast this, you must be thinking of a way to make what you see before you funny. Step up to the boggart, let it take the form of your worst fear, find a way to change it, then cast the spell and let the person behind you take their turn. Everyone ready? Alright, let’s begin.”

The class scrambled into a line, some students pushing to the front, ready to face their fear, others moving to the back immediately. Ginny and her friends wound up in the center, Ginny the last of the three.

Colin’s dormmate, a long-haired boy named Alan Clarke, is up first. He squares his shoulders as Moody opens the trunk, and the class holds their breath.

A hissing noise fills the room as a giant serpent rises out of the trunk. Alan stands for a moment, his shoulders now visibly shaking, and then he raises his wand and says the incantation, the snake flinches, and Moody barks, “Louder, boy! Concentrate!”

Alan tries again, and this time as he firmly speaks the incantation, the snake shakes violently before taking on a pale tan color, and suddenly a large noodle is flopping around, half stuck in the trunk.

Alan steps aside, and Philip Hughes takes his place. The boggart shakes again and morphs into a tall, cloaked figure, who slowly approaches Philip. As it gets closer, it pulls back its cloak, which was hiding its face, to reveal pale skin, dark black eyes, and two fangs dripping with blood. Philip casts the spell and the being turns into a small bat, but the fangs grow larger and larger until the animal can do nothing but flap on the ground.

A few more classmates go, working their way through a hooded figure carrying a large scythe, a person with bushy red hair, and horrifying facial makeup carrying a bunch of balloons, and a lake that looks like Hogwarts’ own Black Lake, from which the giant squid appears to be attempting to reach out of.

Becca is next. The puddle of water where a small squid flops around aimlessly grows and grows in size, taking on a dark color. A few moments later, a large, skeletal-looking horse with black, leathery skin is standing in front of Becca, its milky white eyes staring knowingly at the girl. The horse stamps its hoof and walks forward, and Becca takes a step back in fear.

“Riddikulus!” she practically shouts, her trembling hand holding up her wand. The horse sprouts flowers from its head, bright spots of color appearing on its skin until the entire thing looks like a rainbow taken animal form. Moody nods in encouragement and hurries Becca off to the back of the line.

Then, it’s Colin’s turn. The horse assesses him, stretching out, turning green, its milky white eyes becoming yellow, fangs extending down from its maw. Ginny recognizes those fangs; she has one of the same currently hidden under her pillow up in Gryffindor Tower. Only these fangs aren’t stained with ink, and there is no sword around to fell the creature.

Colin faces off against the Basilisk, but Ginny doesn’t see what happens. She can’t hear anything over the roaring in her ears, and when Colin steps away it is only Moody’s barking voice that makes her step up next.

Weak.

She hears the voice curl around her spine, but it isn’t coming from inside her head, no, it is coming from the figure standing in front of her.

Weak, Tom hisses, his pale eyes cold as they stare down at her.

No, she says, forming a picture in her mind.

Weak little girl.

You’re wrong.

“Riddikulus!”

Tom tries to say something more, but he chokes. As Ginny and the class watch, a mass of something grows from his mouth, falling onto the floor as Tom sputters and chokes on his own, swollen tongue, exactly the way Fred and George described what happened to Harry’s cousin.

The class moves on, Ginny taking her place behind Colin in line, not meeting the eyes of either of her friends.

She misses the rest of the boggarts, too wrapped up in the thoughts swirling about her mind, and only hears the homework that Moody assigns them—read the chapter on boggarts and turn in ten inches on the reason laughter is the most effective method of dealing with the creatures—because Becca bumps her arm to startle Ginny out of her daze.

The three leave class in relative silence compared to the buzzing of their classmates around them. As they walk back to the common room, Ginny thinks back over the lesson, the image of the Basilisk rising quickly to her mind.

When they enter the common room, Becca immediately goes to the girl’s dorm without a word, but Ginny hangs back. She grabs a hold of Colin’s sleeve, getting his attention.

“Don’t,” he says sharply, before Ginny can even open her mouth to speak. “I know what you’re going to say. Don’t. We had this same conversation last year, and I am going to remind you again: it wasn’t you. It wasn’t your fault.” He meets Ginny’s gaze, his blue eyes stern. Ginny swallows back the rising apology that was indeed on her tongue. She was going to apologize for what happened to Colin their first year, apologize because for the last half hour she’s been thinking that if she’d just been a little stronger, a little braver, the Basilisk wouldn’t be Colin’s boggart.

But instead of saying that, she nods. He gives her an assessing look.

“Please, don’t blame yourself,” he says softly. “It wasn’t your fault, and it wasn’t you.”

He sends a glance up the stairs to the girl’s dorm. “I think you should go check on Becca. Whatever her boggart was, it really affected her.”

And so they make their way up to their respective dormitories. Ginny finds Becca sitting on the edge of her bed, eyes screwed up tight. She lets her feet make scuffing noises across the floor, so Becca hears her coming, and when her friend does nothing in reaction, Ginny takes a seat across from her on her own bed.

“Two years ago, I had just left the Chamber, and you offered me a person to talk to if I ever needed anyone to listen. I don’t know anyone like your mum who can do that professionally, but I am here if you ever need to talk, or just someone to sit with you. You were there for me, and I want you to know I am here for you too.”

A silence falls after Ginny stops speaking, but she doesn’t break it again. She just sits and lets Becca decide what will happen next.

A few long moments pass, and Ginny begins to give up hope that Becca will talk to her and instead chooses to be content with letting her friend be alone with her thoughts. But then-

“Not many people know I had a younger sister.”

Ginny’s head snaps up, and she watches Becca carefully, her friend still staring at her hands.

“She was two years younger than me. She looked so much like Mum, but she had Dad’s smile and laugh. It was infectious, just like his, but she had Mum’s mind as well, and arguing with her was always a losing game; she could outwit anyone, I think.

“Her name was Sarah. When she was three, she was diagnosed with a disease, a type of cancer—that’s the Muggle name for it. The doctors guessed she had about two years to live. My dad wanted to take her to St. Mungo’s. He was convinced that the wizards there could find some cure, but Mum insisted on the Muggle method, as it had a higher success rate than the hope that St. Mungo’s mediwitches could figure out a cure.

“She made it almost four years past her diagnosis before it became too much for her body. We stayed with her in the hospital during the last few days. I-”

Becca’s voice breaks, and her hands clench in her lap, but she keeps going.

“I was the only one there when she passed. Mum and Dad were talking outside with a doctor. I was holding her hand, and the machine next to her bed started beeping and her hand went limp and I screamed and my parents came in and the doctors tried to bring her back but… she was gone.

“My boggart took the form of a rare magical creature called a thestral. It’s considered bad luck because you can only see it once you have witnessed a death. I saw them pulling the carriages the first time we arrived at Hogwarts. No one else did, just me. So I researched them and tried to figure out what they were and why I was the only one who noticed them. I wish I hadn’t. Now, every time I see them, I remember why. Because I saw my little sister die, because I was right there, holding her hand in mine. And I hate it. I hate it and I can’t stop seeing them because I can never go back and not feel her hand go limp and see her eyes go dull.”

Becca takes a shuddering breath, lifting her head for the first time since Ginny walked in. Her face is streaked with tears, but her face is calm, not twisted in grief but rather resolute, like she’s come to terms with this horror in her life. Most of all, she looks tired.

Ginny feels numb. She’d noticed, over the past two years, the strange way Becca acted around the carriages. The rush Becca had been in at the start of last year, pushing Ginny into the carriage and forcing her to sit next to Colin, a moment that had been the catalyst for the trio’s friendship. Even just a few days earlier, when they’d rushed to and from the carriages through the rain. Becca had been particularly anxious to get inside, but Ginny had only assumed this was from wanting to avoid getting soaked. She always chalked Becca’s urgency up to excitement to both arrive at and leave Hogwarts.

She’d never considered there could be something more, had never been paying enough attention to notice any worried or frightened looks her friend might have been casting toward the spot in front of the seemingly horseless carriages that, to Ginny, were very much empty.

Now she doesn’t know how to respond. She knows that sorry is useless, because nothing she can say, no sympathy she can give would ever help the pain her friend feels. But she doesn’t have anything else to say, so she expresses this empty word of condolence, and apologizes for the lack of any other words.

Becca nods. “I’m glad that sorry is all you can say. I wouldn’t wish this on you, so no matter how bad you feel about it, be glad you can’t relate, that you don’t know what to say to empathize.”

Ginny’s throat feels tight, and tears prick her eyes, but Becca is right. She can’t empathize, and she is sure Becca doesn’t want to see her tears for a person she never knew and never will.

They sit in silence for a long time, eventually leaving for dinner in the Great Hall when they hear the rest of the common room empty out. She and Becca and Colin are silent throughout the feast. The people around them chatter aimlessly, the other third years recounting their earlier lesson with Moody, and students of all levels agree that he is likely a contender with Lupin for the best D.A.D.A. professor they’ve had.

Ginny lets the noise wash over her. Later that night, she lies awake for a long time thinking. From the lack of steady breathing in the bed next to hers, she can tell Becca is doing the same.

The two of them lie there, awake but lost in their own thoughts, until sleep inevitably claims them both.

Chapter Text

The week passes slowly. After that first dinner, Colin is back to his normal, cheery self. He fills the silences with his thoughts, content to talk even though neither Ginny nor Becca respond. The two of them are slower to fall back into normalcy. They come back to the way things were in fits and starts over the course of the week, moments in class or at meals where they remember how to laugh and joke again.

A few times, Colin’s younger brother Dennis sits with them, chatting about every new thing he’s experienced so far. Ginny watches Becca carefully, trying to be discreet as she observes her friend. She notices nothing out of the ordinary and quickly stops trying to read her.

During one lunch, Dennis’s friend Nigel joins them too, and the first years spend the meal talking in awe-filled voices about Harry, who sits a few seats down with his friends. Colin looks vaguely embarrassed, and when Ginny has to cough up some pumpkin juice she accidentally inhales trying not to laugh, Becca pinches her arm. But Ginny can see her friend is also hiding a snicker at the pained expression on Colin’s face, likely the result of him witnessing what his own obsession looked like from an outside perspective.

When he notices them watching him, he shoots them a dirty look, but in the end, all three break down laughing, and Dennis and Nigel continue on, completely oblivious in their adoration.

It isn’t until the weekend that Ginny has a chance to return to the Room. She drags herself from the library on Saturday after a morning and most of an afternoon spent there with Becca and Colin. She waves a hello to Claire but passes by without conversation, needing the distraction of Quidditch.

Harper’s in the locker room when she walks in, and she realizes it’s the first time they’ve ever been in there together. He says nothing, and they change in silence, walking out to the pitch around the same time.

Both hop on their brooms, Ginny flying out to the side she usually takes immediately. However, as she’s flying over, she gears a voice calling behind her.

“Weasley,” Harper calls from where he hovers near the middle of the field.

Ginny pulls her broom around, flying back so they are within speaking distance. As she observes Harper, she notices how his normally stoic and emotionless face now has a faint look of discomfort.

Her observation is only confirmed when the boy clears his throat abruptly, looking like he’d rather not be talking to her, even though he started the conversation.

“You and I both hate that there is going to be no Quidditch this year, right?” Ginny nods hesitantly. “And we both use this pitch to practice, and we are both chasers.” Again she nods. “Right. So I was thinking, since this year there is no Quidditch, which means our two teams aren’t competing against each other, and we also have no other means by which to practice, and so we both practice here, why not maximize the efficiency of our efforts and run through drills and tactics together?”

Ginny blinks at him. Harper stares back cooly, the discomfort still plain on his face, even more so now that he’s actually said his piece.

“You want us to practice flying together, even though you are on Slytherin’s team and I will be on Gryffindor’s next year? Wouldn’t that make it easier for me to steal Slytherin’s tactics and share them with my team next year?”

He gives her a look like she’s bold to suggest she’d ever be able to steal his team’s tactics. “I wouldn’t be sharing our tactics, I’m not stupid. But we could run common drills together, and I also have the experience of flying as part of a team. You don’t have that yet. I can help you.”

“Why would you do that?”

“You’re a good flier. You’re ambitious, too, wanting to unseat one of Gryffindor’s three chasers, all of whom have been flying on the team since before you came to Hogwarts. I like that. I think we could work well together, and who knows, maybe practicing together will make our matches next year more interesting.”

Ginny couldn’t deny the appeal of more difficult competition that would come from the two of them learning how the other flies. She looks Harper over one more time, looking for any sign of deceit. She sees nothing, though based on his look earlier she begins to wonder how good at keeping secrets he might be. She remembers, too, Claire’s story, about his sudden change, his cruelty. She’d certainly have to watch her own back, but as long as she kept her head on right and paid attention, she would probably be fine.

Finally, she nods. “Alright, I’m game. So, how are we going to do this?”

Harper shows no sign of relief at her acceptance other than the loss of the discomfort written across his face. “I have a few ideas of what we can start with. As I said earlier, you’ve never flown on a team, only by yourself. By chance, did you go to the World Cup game this summer?” She nods. “Right, so you saw how Troy, Mullet, and Moran flew together? It was like they were a single flier. They moved together, anticipating each and every choice the other two were making at the moment. That’s why Ireland won purely through the value of their points. You need to learn that kind of flying.

“Obviously, flying on the Gryffindor team will be different from how we fly for Slytherin, but a few basic things are the same.” He begins to run through different points when it comes to paying attention to the other player’s movements. After a few minutes of explaining, he has them run a lap around the course and every few meters he does a movement that Ginny needs to follow.

They gradually increase in speed and difficulty. Harper changes his positioning around her, sometimes diving low or feinting one way or the other. Eventually, he grabs the Quaffle and the two practice throws. Ginny gets a few moments to be proud of herself as she catches a particularly difficult throw from him.

“Good,” he says as they come to a stop hours later, both breathing hard from the exertion. “You’re getting the hang of it. Maybe next time, we can run through some specific drills.”

He nods to her, taking the Quaffle and flying off to the locker room. Ginny stays on her broom for a few minutes longer, letting her breathing become slower as she thinks over the flying she just did.

It was nice to have someone to fly with, to see what it is like to have another player there to anticipate her moves and to work with. It felt like actually practicing Quidditch, different from all the individual practice she’s been doing up to this point. If anything, the day’s events just make her wish even more that Quidditch hadn’t been canceled this year.

When she finally makes it down to the locker room, Harper is just leaving. He says nothing, doesn’t make any plans for another time to meet up and practice, just nods and leaves. She showers and dresses in silence, going quicker than normal as she feels a pang of hunger rolling through her stomach. On the way out, she sees Claire still sitting on the couch, as she always is. But her eyes are stationary on the page, and her knuckles look a bit white like she’s holding the book too firmly.

She says nothing to Ginny, and Ginny passes by without a word either, though she gives Claire one backward glance as she leaves the Room. She knows why Claire is angry. Seeing Ginny working closely with Harper surely was not something she could be happy about. And, Ginny promises herself, she will explain the situation to Claire later. Right now though, it seems best to wait. Claire has a cold temper and a quick wit; if Ginny doesn’t plan on what to say exactly Claire will easily take advantage of the conversation and the two of them pitted against each other with flared tempers would do neither of them any good.

So she will think through what to say, and choose her opportunity wisely.

She forgets her worry immediately as she makes it to the Great Hall, sitting down next to her friends. Dennis has joined them again, this time to complain about the homework the first years have been given.

Ginny and her friends just share a knowing look and laugh, wishing for the time of simpler lessons, and less homework. She feels a stab in her chest though, remembering how, not long after this time in her own first year, she began to write in the diary.

She pushes the thought out of her mind, but it plagues her the rest of the evening, and in the end, she settles for writing a quick letter to Ms Hussain that she promises to send out first thing in the morning. That promise allows her mind to finally settle, and she drifts off with one hand under her pillow, holding on to the ink-stained fang.

—

The months of September and October pass slowly. Classes are more difficult this year than last, especially with the additional two, and so Ginny finds herself spending more time in the library with Becca and Colin than she anticipated. Visits to the Room become less frequent than she’d like, though she tries to visit at least every weekend. She rarely sees Claire at all in the castle, and now she is sure the girl is avoiding the Room as well because, for the first time since Ginny’s joined, she has gone more than a week without seeing Claire’s familiar silhouette sitting on the couch with a book in hand.

Kat has been notably absent too, though she has Herbology with Ginny and informs her one day that homework for the Hufflepuffs has been just as bad. She says nothing about Claire and doesn’t seem to know about Ginny’s arrangement with Harper.

This arrangement continues every time the two end up in the Room together, which isn’t very often, though, over the course of the two months, they are able to work on two chaser tactics, the Porskoff Ploy and the reverse pass. Even when Harper isn’t in the Room when Ginny arrives, she practices the techniques she’s learned. It isn’t the same, flying without another player there now that she’s gotten used to it, but she managed before and so she manages again.

She doesn’t forget to visit her alcove either, and usually finds a new book or other text to read every time she enters. Occasionally, an old piece will find its way back, and Ginny begins to wonder at the sentience of the Room. This leads to the volume Claire pulled from the shelf on the secrets of the Room winding up on the couch one Sunday morning, although, unlike other times, the tome is opened to a specific chapter she hadn’t gotten around to reading; a chapter on the Room’s intelligent nature.

“Similar to its original iteration, the Room of Requirement—also referred to as the Come-and-Go Room—the Room was magically created with the ability to provide a wizard with whatever need they found they had. However, the specific nature of the Room itself provides the space with a level of intellect and sentience beyond that of the Room of Requirement. It is by this ability that the Room can provide its inhabitants with specific desires they themselves might not even be aware of. Thus, the Room goes beyond the skill of the Room of Requirement with its unique form of aid provided to the students of Hogwarts School.”

Ginny reads this passage to Kat one night, having brought the opened tome out to the main area of the Room immediately after discovering it.

“I always knew the Room was special…” Kat says in amazement, looking around them. They are the only two present this morning, the other doors closed and the Quidditch pitch empty.

Ginny nods in agreement. “It makes you wonder what other secrets this castle is hiding.”

Kat hums in agreement. Ginny reads on, learning more about the witches and wizards who constructed the Room and the Room of Requirement. They were not the original founders, though their identities remain unknown, even to the very creations they made. Even the exact method they took in creating the rooms is not known. It’s speculated the magic used is not even manageable now, since it was likely performed when wands were not as in fashion, and wordless and wandless magics were used; back then, children learned from a young age to control their magic, and so by adulthood were much more skilled in controlling their magic without a word or wand.

Distantly, Ginny hears talking and snaps out of her focused reading to turn to the girl next to her.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you,” she says to Kat with an apologetic shrug. Her friend looks only mildly annoyed, really more amused than anything, and repeats what Ginny assumes she’d just said.

“Are you excited for the arrival of the other two schools?”

Earlier in the week, it had been announced that the night before Hallowe’en, the students of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons would be arriving. The whole school has been buzzing since, and one can hardly go anywhere without hearing speculations on how they will arrive, what they will look like, and how talented they will be. Could they measure up to some of the students at Hogwarts? Some didn’t think so, others were sure that, with the proclivity that Durmstrang had for teaching the Dark Arts, some of the foreign students might simply be more ruthless than those at Hogwarts.

But this was all just speculation, and none of them would know for sure until the other schools arrived and the champions were chosen. Until then, Ginny didn’t see much of a point in giving the Tournament too much thought. Especially since she was still sore—and likely would remain so until the end of the year—that Quidditch was canceled.

She explains as much to Kat, who looks disappointed.

“You aren’t just the smallest bit excited to see the competitions? I’ve heard they push students to the very limits of their magical abilities.”

“I suppose it will be fun to see that competition,” Ginny amends. “I just hope neither of my brothers actually ends up sneaking past the age restrictions and gets chosen. Then I’d really have to care.”

Kat just rolls her eyes.

However, when the night of October 30th rolls around, Ginny has to admit she feels some amount of anticipation to see how the other schools arrive. And if the students of Hogwarts wanted a spectacle, they were not disappointed.

Ginny wonders how even Hagrid will be able to manage the Beauxbatons horses as she watches the giant creatures stamp the ground and whiny, clouds of steam issuing from their nostrils in the cold air. The flying carriage as large as a house is followed up by a magnificent pirate ship rising from the depths of the Black Lake. Colin comments how the giant squid probably doesn’t appreciate the intrusion, and Ginny agrees, considering how quickly it apparently plucked little Dennis out and set him back on his boat.

The arrival of Durmstrang comes with the shock of seeing Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian seeker, as one of the students. Everyone knew he was one of the youngest professional Quidditch players, but none of them expected him as a student, much less one visiting Hogwarts. In the wake of his glorious defeat in the Quidditch World Cup, the students of Hogwarts can’t keep quiet about the boy, Ginny’s brother among them.

She can hear Ron enthusiastically talking to his friends about Krum, almost as ecstatic as some of the Hogwarts girls who fight for various quills to get Krum’s autograph.

The feast is loud and the energy that fills the Great Hall bounces between tables as students shout and laugh and cast completely conspicuous looks at the foreign students. Krum seems to be the center of this attention, but a few students from Beauxbatons earn appreciative looks, in particular a willowy girl with long, silvery blonde hair that Ginny spies confronting Ron at one point, her brother turning a startling shade of puce. Ginny stifles her laughter in her goblet of pumpkin juice, pointing out the sight to Becca.

When Dumbledore finally gets up to announce the start of the Tournament, he has the rapt attention of every student and professor present. Ginny even sees a rare, though small, smile on Snape’s face. All in the room seem to be dreaming of their school’s champion bringing them glory, and even Ginny finds herself gasping in awe as the Goblet of Fire is removed from its casket.

Speculation of who will enter into the competition has become more fact at this point, as many Hogwarts students are already discussing when they plan to put in their name. Fred and George are whispering together with Lee Jordan, likely finalizing their plans to trick the Age Line Dumbledore has announced he will draw to implement the age restriction. All the Hufflepuffs are glowing with pride, certain that Cedric Diggory, who has been a confirmed contender since the announcement of the Tournament, will be chosen as Hogwarts’ champion. There is clear disgust on the faces of Gryffindor’s entire Quidditch team at every mention of this, all of them still sore over Hufflepuff’s win last year.

Ginny and her dormmates are up late into the night, trading whispers and wondering if any of their schoolmates have gone down to enter their names yet.

The next morning, the Great Hall is decorated with the usual Hallowe’en flair, and Ginny is proud to see no small number of the foreign students looking appreciatively at the live bats flying around, or the large pumpkin lanterns made from the pumpkins grown in Hagrid’s garden.

It’s a Monday, but classes are cut short so students can prepare for the feast that night. Ginny has Herbology, Transfiguration, and Potions today, and she is sure Becca is the only Gryffindor who is sad to see their final lesson cut short, as all of their classmates are cheerful as the group leaves the dungeons behind for the common room.

As they leave, Ginny spies Claire walking by herself. She breaks away from Becca and Colin and steps up next to the girl, the two walking in silence. Claire doesn’t acknowledge her, but leads her out of the dungeons as if she knows Ginny wants to talk alone.

When they reach the first floor, Claire heads straight for an empty alcove across from the stairs. Ginny follows her, running over the words she’s been planning in her mind for the past two months. When the two are partially hidden from the view of the stairs and hallway by the walls of the alcove, Claire turns a cold eye on Ginny.

“What?”

“Before I speak, I need you to agree to something.” Claire raises an eyebrow, and Ginny presses on. “You are going to listen to what I have to say. You won’t interrupt me or leave until I’ve said my piece. After that, you can say whatever you’d like, or not. But at least give me the opportunity to say what I need to.”

“Why should I?”

Ginny shrugs. “You have no reason to. I just hope you will. I want you to agree to that, but I can’t make you uphold your end. I guess the only reason you would is because if you don’t, your word means nothing.” Ginny sees the spark of barely contained anger at that. She was relying on this, she knew those words would have that reaction on Claire because, as the girl said, and as Ginny realized so many months ago, Gryffindors and Slytherins are not so unlike each other as both houses would love to believe. And those words would have incensed Ginny just as much as they did Claire.

When the girl does not respond, Ginny chooses to believe her words did their job and takes a deep breath.

“I know the relationship you have with Harper. I know what it meant for you to tell me about your history. When I began practicing with him, it was not meant in any way to hurt you. I do not consider him a friend, or even an acquaintance. He is a means to an end, a way for me to improve my own abilities in Quidditch so that next year when this tournament is over I can make the spot of chaser on the Gryffindor team.”

Claire’s expression does not change, but Ginny can see the fire there from earlier has not burnt out. But so far she’s stayed silent, so Ginny continues.

“But, if you don’t like that I am working with him, if that hurts you in any way, I will stop. I can practice on my own, and I don’t want to let my own ambition-” she chose that word carefully, wanting to see what reaction it would get out of Claire, “-get in the way of our friendship.” Another word that is specifically chosen, though this one was less to see Claire’s reaction and more to acknowledge directly to the girl’s face what Ginny thought of their relationship. She considers Claire a friend, regardless of how the girl feels about her, and Ginny is willing to let go of her practices with Harper if it means losing a friendship that means so much to her. She needs Claire to see that.

Now that her spiel is done, Ginny waits. Claire watches her for a moment, and Ginny doesn’t break eye contact, holding her breath.

“You’d be absolutely stupid to let my feelings affect the achievement of your ambitions,” Claire says finally. “No, I don’t like that you are working with Byron, but that is not only because of our history. I can also see the change it has on him. He’s become less of a prat recently, to tell you the truth, not putting up with Malfoy’s shite as much as he used to. He is still the same person, but I have to admit he’s not entirely as bad as he has been.”

Ginny lets out the breath she was holding, nodding slowly. “Okay, um, good to know. And, I still want you to know that I am sorry for not thinking about how you would feel if I began working with Harper.”

Claire shakes her head. “As I said: don’t let your worry about my feelings affect you going after your goals. My own personal faults with Byron do not affect you directly, so don’t pretend like they do.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t do that Claire. I will feel bad regardless of how you want me to feel.”

Claire looks exasperated. “Bloody noble Gryffindor you are.” Ginny laughs, and Claire moves past her out to the hallway, which has now cleared of their classmates. “Do what you wish, Ginny. Thank you, though, for your apology.” Then she’s gone, sweeping back down the stairs to the Slytherin common room.

Ginny watches her go, perplexed. But she gathers herself after a moment and goes off to her own common room. She is sure that Becca and Colin are already back and wondering where she is, but instead, she finds them lingering in the hallway around the corner from where she and Claire had just been talking.

“Where were you?” Becca asks curiously as they fall into step with her, heading to Gryffindor Tower.

“Talking with Claire. I had to apologize for something.”

“Something?” Colin inquires.

“Something,” she confirms, her face set with determination.

“Are you ever going to tell us how you met her?” Becca presses. “Or are you just going to leave us guessing?”

Ginny takes a moment to think about it. “If I tell you, you both have to promise me you will keep it a secret. That means telling absolutely no one, and not even mentioning it around anyone but the three of us.”

“It’s that serious?”

Ginny nods.

Her friends share a look, and Becca nods. “We can do that.”

“Alright. I’ll tell you later.” Colin sputters, but Ginny just points silently to the few other students around them in the corridor. He falls into sullen silence, and Becca casts Ginny a penetrating look that she pretends not to see.

In the common room, they hear that Angelina Johnson’s put her name into the Goblet, as have a few other older students. Some Gryffindors whisper the names of other students who’ve been seen placing their names in as well, but the general conversation surrounds the foreign students, and who might become their champions.

When it is finally time for the feast, the crowd of Gryffindors makes its way through the halls, merging with the other houses at the entrance to the hall. Ginny sees Kat walking with some Hufflepuffs in their year, Claire drifting along by herself, and spots Luna’s bright blonde head bouncing through the mass of people as she skips to a seat at Ravenclaw’s table. A few Beauxbatons students give her arch looks as they sit at the table too, and Ginny feels a sudden overwhelming urge to go over and snap at them, but the professors have sat down and all in the Great Hall look expectantly at Dumbledore for the cue to dig in.

“Who do you think the Goblet will choose?” Colin asks, filling the silence between the three of them.

“Everyone seems so sure it will be Diggory,” Becca comments, reaching for a plate of roast chicken.

“Imagine a Hufflepuff as Hogwarts’ champion,” Colin says. “The Beauxbatons and Durnstrang students seem so ruthless, like they’ve been waiting their whole lives to enter the Tournament and win. Do you think Diggory could beat that?”

“It’s not like foul play will be allowed,” Ginny jumps in. “Even if the other champions are ruthless, they have to play by some rules. We just need a champion who is also willing to do whatever it takes. In that regard,” she pauses a moment, “I think a Slytherin champion might be best.”

Colin pauses with mashed potatoes halfway to his mouth. “You really think so?” he asks. “Why?”

Ginny shrugs, taking a drink of pumpkin juice to delay answering. “Well, if you think about it, Slytherins are supposed to be the ruthless, ambitious type, right? So having a student with those qualities might help us better compete against the other champions.”

“But,” Becca chimes in, “Gryffindor are brave and noble. Wouldn’t it do well to have a champion who is unafraid to take on the challenges and who will compete with a code of honor?”

“Ravenclaw are the most shrewd and knowledgeable. Maybe a champion who can easily think on their feet and find a way out of the problems they’ll face in the challenges is the best.”

“Hufflepuff are supposed to be determined and caring. The determination to win coupled with the desire to do so without any foul play could win the favor of the judges and get us a victory.”

“So basically,” Ginny concludes, "any house would be good to have as a source of the champion?”

“I guess so,” Becca laughs.

Their conversation drifts from this to what they think the challenges might be. Eventually, the plates clear away and Dumbledore stands to begin the choosing of the champions. Everyone watches in anticipation as the Goblet spits out the names.

Krum is first. It was no secret that he was the favorite from Durmstrang, and so it comes as no surprise that the room shakes with cheers as the stoic boy walks up to the professor's table and turns, exiting the Great Hall through a small door hardly anyone ever notices. The hall quiets just as the Goblet spits another name out, this time the willowy girl from Beauxbatons that Ron had fawned over the previous evening.

Fleur Delacour, as Dumbledore declared her name, stands with unmatched grace and holds her head high as she follows Krum’s path to the antechamber.

The Hogwarts students thrum with anticipation as the Goblet turns red again and spits out the final champion's name—Cedric Diggory.

The groans from her fellow Gryffindors are drowned out as Hufflepuff table screams and cheers and stomps their feet as myriad hands reach out to clap the boy on the back as he follows the previous two, smiling up at Professor Sprout—who claps as loudly as the rest of her house—as he passes the professor’s table.

No one expects what comes next. No one is prepared for the Goblet turning red yet again, or for another piece of paper to fly out on a snaking tongue of fire.

Dumbledore seems the least surprised, though his eyes betray some small amount of shock. He grasps the paper in his hand, reading it likely many times over, and then says in a clear voice, “Harry Potter.”

Ginny watches all heads turn to the Gryffindor table. All eyes find the boy who sits just a few seats down and across from her, his green eyes wide, skin unnaturally pale under his crop of black hair. Hermione has to shove him out of his seat, and he trips on his robes. Ginny watches as Harry Potter walks up the long path to the professor’s table, watches him stare up at the professors who look down at him in varying states of astonishment and confusion before he too enters the antechamber, and the Great Hall breaks out into the most noise that has been heard all night.

Gryffindor are clapping and cheering, thinking their famous student found some way to cheat the Age Line, to do something even the Weasley twins couldn’t, just for a little taste of glory. Hufflepuff is screaming that Gryffindor is trying to take the champion spot that is rightfully Cedric’s. Slytherin and Ravenclaw voices join in, some siding with Gryffindor, some with Hufflepuff. The foreign students are muttering among themselves or adding their own opinions to the mix, and the professors don’t seem to care at all about the commotion, too wrapped up in their own speculation.

“Excuse me, if you all could give me a moment to speak.”

Just as quickly as the noise started, it ends as Dumbledore’s voice rings calmly through the hall.

“Thank you. Heads of House and staff, please escort all students to their houses and current lodgings. Students, despite the night’s excitement, I ask that you all try to get some rest. Classes do continue tomorrow, after all.”

With that, he immediately heads off to the antechamber, a few professors, along with Ludo Bagman and Barty Crouch Sr, following quickly behind.

The Gryffindors fight their way to the front of the crowd, cheering over Hufflepuff's continued protests. The jovial mood continues long into the evening and only ratchets up when Harry arrives. Ginny and her friends watch from seats by the fire as he tries to escape the chaos and celebration. Their housemates are having none of his protests or attempts to get away, simply pulling him back into the center of attention.

Can’t they see he doesn’t want this? Can none of them see this boy is drowning in the praise they want to use to lift him higher? He had stumbled down the hall earlier, everyone’s eyes and judgments on him, and Ginny thinks she might be one of the only people who saw who Harry really was at that moment: a scared little kid who was tired of being forced into the center of everything.

And that’s exactly where he has ended up yet again. However this time, he can’t do anything about it. The words from earlier ring in Ginny’s head. The warnings of Dumbledore about the binding magical contract the Goblet secures each champion in. Harry has to compete, at the threat of his life most likely.

But all the Gryffindors see is the Boy Who Lives back in the spotlight to win Gryffindor glory. All the Hufflepuffs see is an entitled boy who wants to take more glory for himself at the cost of their own rightful champion. All anyone ever sees is never what is truly there, and Ginny goes to sleep that night with the image of Harry’s face in her mind: shock and horror betraying the truth that he never wanted this, any of it.

She wonders how long it will take for anyone to see that, if they ever do.

Chapter Text

It seems like the first thing Ginny does the next morning is yell at her brother. Just as Dumbledore said they would, classes start again the next day, and so she is down in the Great Hall earlier than she’d like after the previous late night. Hermione is also there—alone, strangely enough—and seems to be eating as fast as she possibly can.

She grabs some toast from one of the plates, and spies Ginny watching her, very confused.

“Harry and Ron had an, er, falling out of sorts after last night. I thought I’d bring Harry some breakfast.” She casts a pointed look at Ron, who sits a few seats down with Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan.

Hermione hurries off, and Ginny watches her go, remembering the previous night when, to her confusion, Ron had left the celebration early, before his mate had even returned. But now she puts the pieces together, thinking how her brother must feel having a best mate who is always in the spotlight. She knows having so many older brothers who have accomplished so much already makes Ron feel like he has so much to live up to—though this has never really extended to her; it seems the expectations that come from your skilled and successful brothers don’t fall on you so much when you are the sister.

But she finds it hard to understand how Ron could possibly let this get in the way of his friendship. He and Harry have been so close since they first met, and for her brother to let a small thing like the Tournament get in the way of that…

When Ron finally stands up at the end of the meal, she stands too, stepping up next to him as he leaves the Great Hall. Before he can get away with his classmates, she grabs his sleeve, yanking him down another hallway. He sputters and yelps and tries to make her let go, but she gives him her iciest look, inspired by the myriad chilling looks she’s seen her mum use on nearly everyone in the family, and he quickly shuts up.

“What?” he hisses at her when they find a suitably empty hallway for their conversation. I’m going to be late for Charms if you don’t make this quick.”

Another icy look and he’s shut up again, and Ginny takes a deep breath. She wants to try and get through this conversation without shouting too much at her idiot brother, and to do that she needs to be as calm as possible.

“How daft are you?” she finally asks. He looks taken aback, and a little angry, and she presses forward before he can try to butt in. “Your best mate has just been made the school pariah and you are moping around like a kicked puppy. How daft are you, really? Did you not see him last night? Did you not see how miserable he looked? Do you really think he wants this? Answer that please, it wasn’t rhetorical.”

He shoots her a nasty look but she just taps her foot and waits. Finally, he mutters something under his breath.

“What?”

“You don’t know what it’s like,” he says louder, his face red. “You don’t know what it's like having a best mate who always outshines you, always is the center of attention.”

“And you thought it would be easy, being Harry Potter’s best mate? Really? I’m not saying I blame you for feeling a little hurt when Harry gets all this attention, but of all times for you to let that ruin your friendship, you had to choose the moment when the entire school except Gryffindor house hates him?”

“Well, what do you care anyway? And besides, he’s got Hermione to hang out with.”

“Is this all really worth losing two friends over, Ron? Because I guarantee you Hermione does not want to be the bridge holding you two together, but I know she will try to be and if you let that go on too long, you will lose both of them.”

He says nothing, fuming instead, and she scoffs, turning sharply on her heel and leaving with only a backward glance and a final comment.

“Think on that a little, why don’t you.”

—

That night at dinner Colin tells Ginny and Becca how some reporter for the Daily Prophet grabbed him on his way to Care of Magical Creatures and had him go as a messenger to collect Harry for some wand ceremony and interview.

He shudders as he tells them about the creepy reporter with her long crimson nails like claws and a shark’s smile.

About a week later when the owls stream into the Great Hall one morning, the front page bears a long article about the Triwizard Tournament—at least, it was likely supposed to be about the Tournament. It ends up mostly being a bunch of made-up mush on Harry, and Ginny can tell from the “quotes” that the reporter—Rita Skeeter—used that Harry had said nothing like what she claimed he did. However, she is in the small minority who realize this, and the entire hall quickly begins buzzing about Harry Potter once again stealing the spotlight. This is especially exacerbated by the fact that the other champions are either barely mentioned—Fleur and Krum—or not in the article at all—Cedric.

Harry looks more and more miserable as the days pass by, Ron still apparently refuses to get a grip and make amends, and Hermione’s face often is screwed up in a frantic sort of look as she tries to manage the row between her two best mates.

One afternoon, completely done with it all, Ginny pens an extremely long and angry letter about the whole situation to Ms Hussain, and it's only after she finishes it that she wonders if maybe this isn’t something her therapist needs to know about. Is she allowed to vent to Ms Hussain if it isn’t about her dreams and memories of Tom and the Chamber? She isn’t sure, so the letter stays hidden in her trunk, likely never to see the light of day. Instead, she sends a note to her mum, this one much more tactful and less abusive toward her brother.

In her letter back, Molly sounds extremely concerned for Harry, and questions if Ginny is correct in her assertion that Skeeter was completely fabricating how Harry was dealing with being named champion.

Trying to avoid the urge to send back a letter with an even stronger assertion of the fact that Colin was a firsthand account of Skeeter’s untrustworthy reporting—he had adamantly denied gushing about Harry in the way the article claimed he had, and she believed him in large part thanks to his reaction to Dennis’s awe of Harry earlier in the year—Ginny huffily flops onto the couch next to Claire one Sunday afternoon, a few days before the first task.

“How often does Samantha get on your nerves?” she asks, screwing her eyes up in exasperation.

“Too often,” Claire responds, and then, to Ginny’s great surprise, “What did he do?”

It isn’t often Claire is the one to keep the conversation going, but Ginny doesn’t let this throw her off too much.

“He’s being an absolute idiot and ruining his friendship with his best mate over the Tournament.”

“He’s jealous?”

“I don’t know what he is, honestly.”

Claire hums. She thinks for a moment, then carefully asks, “Are you so sure it is your place to try and help?”

Ginny whips her head around, caught off guard. She sputters for a moment, trying to find some justification. She wants to say it's because she, as an outside observer, can provide some insight into the whole situation, but Claire just fixes her with a knowing look and all of Ginny’s arguments seem childish.

“I guess not…” she concedes after a moment.

“You were trying to help, but your brother will figure out how stupid he’s been on his own.”

Ginny nods.

“If I were you, I’d be more worried about making sure Hermione is handling all of this well. That girl overworks herself as a hobby, and now she’s dealing with two estranged friends on top of her normal stress.”

Ginny was surprised to hear that Claire even paid Hermione any attention, but given the girl’s habit of people-watching, she supposed Hermione might indeed be a very interesting subject to observe. And Ginny herself had noticed how Hermione had begun to look more harried recently. It was clear to anyone who paid attention that the rift between Harry and Ron was eating at her, and she suddenly felt a spike of guilt, regretting her decision to chide her brother over choosing to talk to Hermione.

“You’re right. My brother can figure out his own problems.”

Claire nods in agreement, then goes back to her book, a perfunctory close to the conversation.

The next day Ginny invites Hermione to the library after classes finish, and the girl gratefully accepts. Though Ginny must admit, Hermione can be a little overbearing when it comes to schoolwork, it’s nice to see her and Becca chat away about Potions while Colin watches them, still confused over how anyone could possibly like a class taught by a professor as awful as Snape.

Hermione joins them more at meals too, though Harry is still her main companion. Ginny supposes she has to feel for Harry a little, having his best mate be mad at him for no reason. And she is still frustrated that the whole school aside from Gryffindor house looks down on him, but he isn’t entirely blameless; his own pride has been keeping him from reaching out more to her brother. Even though she is removed from the situation now, Ginny really hopes it resolves soon.

Watching the three of them dance around each other, awkwardly avoiding any more confrontations… honestly, it's tiring.

“Tell me again what puffapods are used in?” Ginny asks, rubbing her temples and scrunching her eyes, trying not to drip ink on the nearly blank parchment below her. Professor Sprout assigned the third years ten inches on the uses of the plant they’ve been studying the past week, and for the life of her, Ginny can’t remember which potions it’s used in.

“Well, depending on which part of the plant you harvest, there are multiple potions and ways of using the plant. It often causes dizziness so…”

Ginny stares at her paper, Hermione prattling on about puffapod uses, and despite herself, Ginny’s attention wanders. She glances behind Hermione, who takes no notice of her lack of focus, and her gaze catches on a hunched figure sitting in the corner of the room. Krum, glowering at his admirers who hide behind various shelves in the library, is partially concealed by the stacks of books he has around him on the table. But, as Ginny watches, he casts a glance over toward their table, his eyes landing on Hermione.

He listens to her talk as Ginny watches. She snaps out of her daze soon enough to hear the last piece of information Hermione provides, and she scrambles to write that down for her essay. Throughout the rest of the evening, she spies Krum looking over at Hermione’s busy figure quite often, though always in quick glances. He never once turns a kind eye to the girls giggling about him a few meters away, but when he looks at Hermione, something in his face softens.

Ginny mulls over this new discovery as she finishes her essay, a lackluster attempt certainly, but then again Herbology is mostly a hands-on class. Krum packs up not long before she finishes, and she notices he takes care to both avoid his fans and skirt a path right by their table. Hermione doesn’t look up, too embroiled in her Arithmancy homework, but Ginny can see Krum’s eyes watching her figure for as long as he can before he passes her and she’s out of his line of sight.

“Interesting,” Ginny murmurs to herself as Krum’s fans follow him out, Madam Pierce shushing them all as they go.

“What?” Hermione’s head shoots up. “What’s interesting.”

Ginny shrugs, trying to decide if she should mention it to the girl or keep her observations to herself.

“Nothing, I was just talking out loud.” She’s learned her lesson on interfering, and honestly, the thought of discussing boys with Hermione sounds exhausting. Becca and Colin thankfully return from their trip to find a recommended text on the Goblin Wars for their History of Magic essay, and Ginny lets herself forget about Krum’s long looks.

As the weeks press on, the first task approaches, and speculation about the challenge the champions face goes wild. No one knows, not even the teachers, apparently. Dumbledore has a mysterious twinkle in his eye, and all the champions get progressively quieter, more pensive and withdrawn, as the days count down.

Ginny is surprised that Flitwick even tries to teach anything in Charms the morning of the first task. None of the third years are paying much attention, though the professor tries to wrangle them to little avail.

Lunch is as noisy as ever, perhaps more so, as the champions are called away to prepare for their task. And, not long after, all the students rise to follow a winding path down from the castle and into the Forbidden Forest. It is the first time Ginny has ever set foot inside the Forest, and Becca grabs her arm tightly as the dark branches close over their heads. Ginny focuses on the pressure, letting it ground her, and on the prattling voice of Colin next to her, anything that could distract her from the memories trying to invade her mind.

The green shape in the sky is not there, she reminds herself firmly, and puts one foot in front of the other, breathing slowly.

“How is it louder out here than in the Great Hall?” she shouts to her friends as they enter the stadium, where the three schools wait eagerly for the task to start.

“What?” Colin shouts back, and Ginny shakes her head.

The stadium is thunderous, the excitement thrumming through the air. The scene laid before them only creates more questions, the rocky landscape not giving any hints as to what they will see the champions do.

Hermione is nearby, and Ron with some boys from his class sits not too far away. Ginny watches her brother’s face as he observes the stadium. She can’t be sure, but he seems nervous. Maybe that’s a good sign that things are finally clicking for him.

Ginny quickly forgets about her brother as she feels her heart shoot into her throat when the dragon is brought out. Cedric is the first champion to face off against the creature, and the whole audience is at rapt attention, gasping and screaming and cheering at each near miss and triumph. The Hufflepuff champion manages to get his prize—the golden egg—but gets burned in the process, and from her vantage point, Ginny sees the worried faces of the other Hufflepuff students.

Next is Fleur, looking calm and poised despite the terrifying task ahead of her. When her dragon is brought out—different than Cedric’s; Ginny realizes each champion must get their own dragon to face—she begins to cast a spell, moving fluidly in an odd sort of dance. The dragon looks almost entranced, smoke still rolling from its barely open mouth, but no fire is shot out, and it merely stares at the girl in front of it. As the audience watches in near silence—no one wants to break Fleur’s focus and risk the dragon incinerating her—she moves forward, closer and closer to the eggs and the golden one sitting nestled in the center. The dragon hisses, but Fleur’s low voice gets slightly louder and the hiss dies. She is almost to the egg when she stumbles over a rock, her eyes having been trained on the creature before her.

Ginny and the rest of the audience gasp collectively as the dragon shakes off the effects of the spell almost as soon as Fleur’s voice falters. She darts in quickly, her blond hair whipping through the air as she dives for the egg, grabbing it and running. The dragon roars, a blast of fire barely missing Fleur, who puts it out with a jet of water from her wand as the dragon handlers rush forward to incapacitate the creature.

Krum is third, his permanent scowl tinged with barely perceptible worry. Ginny watches Hermione watch the Durmstrang boy walk out into the arena and face his dragon. The girl doesn’t seem that much more worried about the champion, though her hands are fisted tightly in her lap. But Ginny’s gaze is pulled back to the task down below as cheers ring out. Krum casts a spell, hitting the dragon squarely between the eyes, and this appears to stun the creature. He quickly makes a run for the golden egg but stops short as the stunned dragon stumbles about nearly crushing Krum as he dodges, and then the loud crack of trampled eggs echoes through the arena. The crowd gasps, but Krum grabs the egg and it’s all over.

The murmur of anticipation starts as Krum walks off after receiving his score. Hermione looks truly worried now, Ron with a similar look on his face, and Becca grabs Ginny’s arm. Harry walks out into the arena, looking up at the watching students. His dragon looks the most monstrous of them all, its spiked tail lashing as it roars at Harry, immediately shooting scalding fire at him.

Harry dodges, raising his wand to the sky and shouting something Ginny can’t hear over the clamor of the crowd’s cheers and screams. But a moment later a blurry shape comes whizzing into the arena, and Harry is aboard his Firebolt, flying up and up and doing circles around the dragon’s head, looking for a way in.

Ginny watches in amazement as he dives in, and all of the training Wood put the Gryffindor team through the previous year pays off when Harry pulls out of the dive with the golden egg in his arms.

The stands around her erupt, Becca and Colin screaming in her ears, her own throat hoarse from cheering, her hands red from clapping.

The Gryffindors are ecstatic about Harry’s performance in the task. Many argue that he should have received the highest score, much to the chagrin of the Hufflepuffs they pass on the way back up to the school. Ginny watches as her brother makes his way to Harry, hopefully apologizing for being such a prat, and she spends the evening celebrating with her house.

The victory is well earned, and Gryffindor isn’t likely to soon let any of the other houses forget it.

Chapter Text

A few days pass, and the joy of the victory still hasn’t worn off. The Gryffindors earn scowls from the other Hogwarts students and even the other schools, at least when those other students aren’t cheering for their own champions, but nothing can penetrate the wall of excitement that surrounds the celebrating house. Harry, Ron, and Hermione are back to being fast friends just as they were before this whole mess started, and though Ginny doesn’t miss the presence of Hermione constantly reminding her that procrastination will only hurt her in the long run, she does overall miss the other girl’s company.

But she is glad to see the trio back together and glad to go back to studying with Becca and Colin. Sometimes now, Luna joins them in the library, always arriving with a smile and some new random comment or fact that bewilders them all, though Ginny brushes it off with a smile.

Kat begrudgingly offers Ginny congratulations on Harry’s decent completion of the first task, which Ginny returns a little more enthusiastically while Claire rolls her eyes from the couch. Training with Harper continues, and he makes no comments on the events of the first task, much to Ginny’s surprise. He just nods to her and they shoot off the ground, flying up and instantly starting drills.

Things fall back into a fairly steady rhythm since the next task isn’t going to happen until after the break for the holidays. Ginny and her friends prepare for the upcoming tests in each class, slugging through more homework than they’ve had before and spending longer hours in the library as a result.

One day, as Ginny is escaping a Saturday morning spent in the library by sneaking off to the Room, she ducks quickly into a nearby bathroom. The room is mostly empty, with a few girls standing by the sinks. They wear the robes of Beauxbatons, and Ginny recognizes Fleur in the center, holding the attention of the others like a queen presiding over her court. None of them glance at Ginny but keep chatting in French. The voices fade after a few minutes, and when Ginny exits the stall she finds that Fleur is the only one left at the sink.

Ginny stands a few sinks away, washing her hands and trying not to think about how awkward it is in the silence. But she can hear Fleur muttering something to herself, and sees the girl aggressively washing her hands. Ginny understands very little French, but as she is about to leave she is sure she catches some comment along the lines of how dirty Hogwarts is.

Her temper snaps, and she spins around. “You could be just the least bit grateful about us hosting you and your classmates you know.”

Fleur arches an eyebrow, but seems just a little surprised Ginny understood her. “At Beauxbatons, our bathrooms are pristinely polished each day, and we have perfumed soaps and beautiful marble counters. And,” she says with a curl of her lip, “there are no distraught little ghosts haunting any toilets. We do not stand for such nonsense.”

Ginny doesn’t let the comment about Moaning Myrtle or the bathroom she haunts affect her, despite the memories flooding in. She stands ramrod straight, trying to channel any of the confident energy Fleur seems so good at emanating.

“Well, maybe that’s how things are at Beauxbatons,” she says slowly, trying to keep her temper held in as much as she can, “but here at Hogwarts, we like our education to have a little character. Not everyone wants a school that looks like it constantly has a stick up its arse.”

Fleur looks scandalized at Ginny’s language, but she shrugs it off, flicking her hair over her shoulder. “What you call character, I call poor maintenance.”

Ginny rolls her eyes. “Well, poor you, having to stay here all year for a competition that could win you glory and riches. What an awful trade that must be for you Beauxbatons brats.”

She stalks past Fleur, whose perfect mask of superiority has slipped at Ginny’s words. But the other girl has no retort, simply goes back to scrubbing her hands and Ginny leaves. Her temper is satisfied, yes, but as she walks further from the bathroom, and finds an empty corridor to pace in front of, the worming feeling in her stomach gets worse, and by the time the door opens to the Room, she regrets ever letting her anger get the better of her.

She resists the urge to flop down on the couch next to Claire, not wanting to get too comfortable with the Slytherin girl solving all of Ginny’s problems for her, and instead makes a beeline for her Alcove. The dimness is like a warm blanket, and she grabs a blanket, pulling it over her as she lay on the couch, the soft fabric cushions holding her as she thinks over the recent confrontation. More and more she begins to regret her words, but there is still a lingering edge of anger.

She is sure she’s right in the conviction that Fleur and the other Beauxbatons students have been a little snobbish in their complete dismissal of Hogwarts based on appearance alone. However, her harsh words were likely not the best way to voice that. Fleur hadn’t exactly made it easy to control her temper, but regardless, it wasn’t right.

Ginny sighs, pulling some parchment and a quill out of her bag. She has an itch to write a note to Ms Hussain, but the small twinge of embarrassment over her actions keeps her from fully committing.

A thought springs up, something she never thought to consider. But immediately the memories start to form, as she remembers the diary, writing pages and pages, pouring her heart out so completely that in the end it nearly got her killed. Her hand trembles over the page, ink still coating the quill from when she’d dipped in the inkwell moments before, so sure she was about to write out everything she felt.

Now, as she waits and fights with her desire to write and her horrid memories, a small drop of ink falls, staining the page black where it lands. She watches, despite all logic, holding her breath and waiting for it to sink in, to disappear, for the nightmare to come back as if it never ended.

But the ink stays there, the splotch done growing now as all of the liquid is soaked in. She takes a deep breath, slowly lowering the quill to the paper.

It is over, Ginny reminds herself. This is a piece of parchment. This isn’t the diary. The diary is gone. Tom is gone.

And she touches the quill down, writing the date at the top of the page. It’s a first step, and her hand shakes as she does it. But when it’s written, she sits back, breathing, and smiles softly. She dips the quill in again, setting the tip down on a new line, and starts writing.

It’s surprisingly easy, she finds, to get lost in the comfort of writing again. She lets all of her recent worries form words on the page, and every time a memory rises up, she acknowledges it and reminds herself that the past is the past. A few times she has to stop, but she looks down at the parchment and sees the ink still shining there as it dries—dries, not sinks—on the page.

And so Ginny spends the next hour writing and writing. She doesn’t pour out every thought and feeling, still unable to break past that last barrier. But she writes two long sheets, works through her thoughts with the words on the pages, and the ink stays there.

—

As the term draws to a close, the students begin to prepare not only for their finals but also for the exciting new event the Tournament brought along—the Yule Ball.

Every student fourth year and above can attend, though first, second, and third years can attend as dates to older students. Very quickly, students begin pairing up, girls and boys alike asking each other as dates to the dance, and the four champions seemed to be the most desirable choices.

Fleur and Cedric in particular are often seen with swarms of students around them, though Krum’s usual fanbase has gotten rather bold in recent days, and Ginny even noticed a few Gryffindor girls shooting Harry shy glances down the table in the Great Hall.

She now understands why her mum bought those nice robes for her over the summer, though Ginny is worried they will go to waste, as she can’t attend the dance unless she gets a date.

She is sure that will never happen, so Ginny and her friends spend their meals and breaks watching with glee as the older students embarrass themselves asking each other to the dance. More than a few boys trip over themselves asking Fleur out, and she merely gives them cool looks until they all go red in the face and retreat. Krum simply glowers around, ignoring his persistent fans who giggle louder than normal.

Ginny has no idea who Cedric or Harry are going with, but as there is less entertainment to be found with their respective date prospects, she doesn’t much care.

Hermione seems rather put out by all the fuss but confesses to Ginny one day that she actually was asked to the dance, and in fact, accepted.

“Really?” Ginny is surprised, not expecting the uptight Hermione Granger to fancy a night of dancing. Hermione blushes, trying to keep her composure. “I’ll admit, I’m surprised. But you deserve a night to relax. You work yourself too hard.” This comment is only met with Hermione’s justification for her work ethic: she needs to stay on top of school, after all her OWLS are next year. But she does let slip that a dance doesn’t sound like a completely terrible idea, especially, she adds, if it helps diffuse the rivalry that’s been brewing between schools and houses since the first challenge.

Ginny finds she agrees.

She begins to resign herself to the fact that her mum spent unnecessary money on dress robes that won’t be used when Hermione comes rushing into the library one day, red-faced.

“Ginny!” she cries, dropping her books on the table, panting.

“Um, yes?” Ginny asks, wondering what has the girl running around.

“Would you like to go to the Yule Ball with Neville?” Hermione bursts out, her cheeks turning pinker, which Ginny didn’t think was possible.

“I-”

“Oh, please say yes! He just asked me, he was really quite nervous and was so crestfallen when I told him I already had a date. But I felt so bad I promised to help him find one and the first person I thought of was you! After all, you won’t get to go unless an older student asks you and, well…” Hermione trails off, out of breath again.

Ginny doesn’t know what to say. She’s met Neville before, even talked to him a few times in the stands watching Quidditch. She knows he’s sort of a friend of Ron’s, and he does seem like a sweet boy.

And Hermione is right. Unless she somehow gets asked by another older student, this could be her only chance to go to the dance. Hermione will be there, with whoever her mysterious date is of course, but she is still someone Ginny knows. And Harry too, since he’s one of the champions. Maybe Ron even got lucky and was able to ask someone without blundering it. So she decides to accept, and Hermione graciously introduces her to Neville, who turns as red as Hermione was earlier but seems genuinely pleased that someone wants to go with him.

She thinks how nice it will be, going dancing all night, to wear the beautiful blue dress robes her mum had gotten for her, and how she can tell Becca and Colin, and maybe Kat and Claire too, all the stories she will likely have after the night is over.

Ginny is so wrapped up in thoughts of the dance that she almost misses the flash of red hair that flies past her. She stops just in time to watch, in delayed horror, as Ron strides right up to Fleur, who is chatting with Cedric. She is too far away to hear his words, but can guess what he says based on the dopey grin spread across his face. Fleur stares at him like he’s a bug until the smile slides away and he stumbles off, vaguely toward Ginny.

She catches him in her arms, stopping his forward momentum with a grunt. A quick glance back shows no sign that Fleur or any of the others around her seem to care much about the idiot boy and his sudden bravery, so she leads her brother off to Gryffindor Tower, hoping to run into one of his friends on the way.

Later, she collapses next to Kat and Claire, sighing heavily.

“Long day?” Kat asks, a muggle book open in her hands, though she glances over to check on Ginny. Claire keeps reading.

“I think I might actually agree with Hermione Granger on something.” This gets Claire's attention. “Maybe this dance is more trouble than it's worth.”

“You going?” Kat looks intrigued, likely wondering how Ginny managed to get an invite.

Ginny nods. “My brother’s friend needed a date, and mum just got me some nice dress robes this year so…” she shrugs. “But the problem isn’t that. The problem is how crazy everyone’s become over this dance.” She screws up her face, rubbing her temples with her fingers. “Treating it like it’s life or death to find a date.”

She sits up straight, turning to them. “Can you believe, my mental brother suggested I go with Harry because he hasn’t been able to find a date yet? The bloody Boy-Who-Lived can’t find a date to the dance, how insane is that?”

“Well, a few years ago you would have been absolutely ecstatic to go to a dance with said boy,” Claire chimed in from behind her book.

Ginny gawked at her. Surely her stupid crush wasn’t well known beyond her family and Ron’s friends?

Claire sees her—and Kat too, who may have been truly shocked or simply pretending to be so out of solidarity—staring at her. “What? I was there when he got that singing Valentine that Lockhart set up. And Malfoy wouldn’t shut up about how stupid it was that Potter was getting that kind of attention.”

Ginny groans, covering her face with her hands and collapsing back into the cushions.

Kat pats her arm sympathetically. “I’m sure no one-” here Ginny pictures her giving Claire a sharp look, “-really remembers that. And plenty of people do silly things like that when it comes to people they like.”

Ginny peaks through her fingers. “Have you?”

Kat blushes. “Well, no, but I know plenty of people in my house who’ve done strange things just recently, for the dance.”

“It gives people who aren’t in the Tournament a way to feel involved, I suppose,” Claire comments.

“You don’t seem terribly critical of the dance,” Ginny says, watching Claire through her fingers. “Why not? Seems like it wouldn’t be your thing.”

“I can appreciate a night of fun.”

“Would you actually be caught dead at the dance if you could go?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Not even if a certain someone asked you?” Kat questions innocently. Ginny puts her hands down, staring at Kat in shock. A certain someone?

Claire levels a steady look at Kat. “Not possible. A certain someone isn’t in any position to ask anyone to the dance.”

“But maybe, hypothetically, if the certain someone was able to ask anyone to the dance…?”

“I don’t deal in hypotheticals.”

“Now you’re just evading.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

Ginny watches the exchange, intrigued. Both girls have been careful to avoid any indicators that might give away who this “certain someone” could be, but she has a fairly good idea. Still, she lets them banter on, and though Kat loses steam after a while and simply lets Claire have the last say, she can see the faint blush on the Slytherin girl's cheeks, and Kat has a self-satisfied twinkle in her eyes.

After a while of sitting in comfortable silence, the two girls next to her having returned to their reading and Ginny having been lost in her thoughts, she stands and stretches.

“I’m off to dinner,” she says, gathering her things.

“And,” she adds over her shoulder on the way out, “I’ll say hi to a certain someone for you.” Kat snorts, but Claire simply gives her an arch look. Ginny smiles back and makes her way to the Great Hall.

—

Later that night, Ginny and Becca sit together on Ginny’s bed, the curtains drawn around them and a silencing charm cast so they can talk without disturbing the other girls in their dormitory.

“So you’re going with Neville?” Becca clarifies. “Not Harry? Even though you had a ginormous crush on him not long ago?”

Ginny rolls her eyes, very much tired of the day’s constant reminder of her lovesick adoration of Harry. “I couldn’t just turn Neville down after already agreeing to go. Besides, I’m not going to be a plan B for Harry just because he’s too chicken to ask out any of the dozens of girls following him around.”

She doesn’t mention the way her muscles tense and the shadowy memories creep up sometimes when she sees Harry, doesn’t want to burden her friend with the knowledge that seeing his face is sometimes too close to that moment when he came into focus in the Chamber. That weakness from having her life almost entirely drained from her body may be long gone, but its echoes still ring through her.

So she evades and pretends like her crush has simply faded. Which it has, of course, but that isn’t the only reason. But it is the only reason Becca, or anyone for that matter, needs to know about.

Becca shrugs. “To each their own, I suppose. At least you get to go.” She sighs wistfully, staring up at the ceiling.

Ginny grins slowly. “If only a certain someone were just a year older.”

Becca shoots her a cautious glance, clearly trying to hold back a smile. “Yeah,” she responds slowly. “If only.”

Ginny lets the matter drop, not wanting to push it too much, but as Becca gets up to move into her own bed, Ginny leans over across the space separating their beds.

“Becca,” she says, getting her friends' attention as she shuffles underneath the comforter.

“Hm?”

“Claire says hi.”

Even in the dim light, Ginny can see Becca’s face flush, her smile uncontained now.

“Goodnight Ginny.”

Ginny laughs. “Goodnight.”

Chapter Text

Ginny has more fun than she expects to at the Ball. Becca confesses she knows bugger all about doing hair and makeup, but Kat saves the day, meeting Ginny in an empty classroom carrying a small bag out of which she pulls a good number of supplies. Some Ginny has seen her mum use before, others are new to her, and she finds it rather relaxing to put her trust in Kat and sit there while the girl goes to work.

After about an hour or two, Ginny’s hair has been pulled back into a crown of braids that swirls into a bun behind her head, and her eyes are dusted with a shimmery, light blue shade to go with her dress. Kat insists she uses a clear gloss on her lips to avoid distracting from the color around her eyes, and then, thanking her friend profusely, Ginny hurries back to Gryffindor Tower to put on her dress robes.

Becca and Colin wave her off, promising to stay up and hear all her stories, though she highly doubts either of them would truly be able to wait that long—more likely they will fall asleep in the common room and she’ll wake them long enough to drag them upstairs to bed. But they insist they can make it that long, and she laughs them off, going to wait outside the portrait hole for Hermione and Neville.

Neville arrives first, wearing black dress robes—without any ruffles, Ron would be peeved to see—and he bumbles through a compliment of her attire. She smiles at him, saving him with a thank you, and they wait in amiable silence for Hermione to make her appearance. Ginny heard from Lavender Brown that Parvati Patil was helping her with the finishing touches, but that had been nearly twenty minutes ago, and the dance was going to start soon.

She is about to go back in to look for Hermione when the portrait opens and Lavender and Parvati exit, both dressed nicely and looking gleeful. They nod to Ginny and Neville and hurry on—Ginny distantly remembers Parvati is Harry’s date to the dance—and then Hermione follows them out. She’s wearing dress robes in a beautiful periwinkle, and her hair is done up; its natural frizziness gone and instead, it looks sleek and elegant.

Neville fumbles through another compliment, Hermione blushes from the praise, and Ginny just stands there with a smile. When the two are ready, they walk down to the Great Hall together, Ginny and Hermione discussing the various things Kat and Parvati did to help them get ready, Neville listening in confusion.

“I just realized,” Ginny comments as they reach the Hall, the buzz of excited students growing. “I don’t think you ever told me who you are going with.”

Hermione just smiles a coy smile, something very unlike her, and merely says, “You’ll see.”

A few minutes later, as Ginny watches Hermione dance on the arm of Viktor Krum, she remarks to herself how Hermione is really full of surprises tonight.

She watches Harry watch Cedric and Cho, watches Ron watch Hermione and Krum, and waits for the headache to start.

It doesn’t take long.

Poor Parvati and Padma—though they find other dance partners with relative ease. Poor Hermione leaves her confrontation with Ron and Harry red-faced and tearful.

Ginny watches from afar and silently thanks Claire for convincing her that her brother’s problems are not hers because that entire mess is altogether too messy for her to want anything to do with.

“Oh dear,” says a dreamy voice over her shoulder as Ginny watches Hermione take a seat on the other end of the Hall, poor Krum wandering around with his drinks looking for her. “She looks quite unhappy. Perhaps there’s a blibbering humdinger hanging on to her hair?”

Ginny turns to see Luna’s pale eyes watching Hermione, vague interest shining there. Despite the strange, and incorrect, assessment of Hermione’s stressor, Ginny smiles. She can’t help it, because oddly enough every encounter with this Ravenclaw girl leaves her smiling.

“She’s just had a spat with my brother, too,” Ginny adds, knowing this correction won’t offend Luna. As she predicts, the girl takes it in stride.

“That makes sense,” she nods seriously. “Foul moods are especially likely to attract humdingers.”

Ginny smiles as if this makes all the sense in the world.

“Who are you here with?” She asks after a moment, realizing both that she is staring at the girl and that Luna could only be here with a date.

“Oh, Michael was kind enough to bring me.” Luna gestures in the direction of a group of Ravenclaws, with one or two Beauxbatons students in the mix, dancing on the edge of the mass of students. Ginny can’t tell which one is Luna’s date at first, then notices one boy keeps glancing over to where the two of them stand by the tables. She thinks he looks a little put out that his date isn’t dancing with him, but he spies her watching and blushes, turning back to his friends.

“Don’t you want to go dance with him?” Ginny suggests.

Luna blinks at her. “Oh, I suppose so.” She doesn’t look terribly fond of the idea until Ginny offers to find Neville and join them, at which she beams. Ginny feels a blush creep over her cheeks, and laughs off Luna’s thanks, already scanning the room for her own date.

Neville, not one for slow dancing, had gone to get some food after their first few waltzes, where he’d stepped on most of her toes. It takes a little convincing, but after she assures him there will be no more waltzing necessary, he agrees to join her for the last few songs.

Luna is back with her date, and introduces Ginny and Neville airily, already swaying to the music.

Michael smiles faintly and nods to both of them, his eyes meeting Ginny’s gaze and then darting away quickly. She finds this odd, but quickly gets caught up in the music and pays it no mind. She recognizes many of the songs, mostly ones from when she and her brothers were able to snatch the old radio away from their mum and turn it to a channel that plays something other than Celestina Warbeck.

The night eventually ends, and Ginny’s feet are dying in her shoes—a pair of nice flats that are a size too small—but she toughs it out as she exits into the entrance hall with the group of Ravenclaws and Neville. Luna and one of the Beauxbatons students are engaged in a serious conversation about some creature called a heliopath. Ginny smiles to herself and is about to suggest to Neville that they head back to Gryffindor Tower when a voice speaks up from behind her.

“You’re Ron Weasley’s little sister, aren’t you?”

She turns to see Michael Corner, standing alone, staring at her inquisitively. She nods, wondering where this is going, and a little peeved to once again be known only because of her brothers.

“Yeah, I thought so. I have Charms with him. Can’t say we’ve talked much, but he seems like a nice bloke.”

Ginny nods again, absently. She’s exhausted, feeling like she’s swaying on her feet but also still jumping at the same time. And she’s sure she can still feel the loud booming bass in her chest, but that could be her imagination.

“Yeah, he’s great,” she manages to respond before Neville thankfully and unintentionally saves her by asking if she’s ready to head back to the dorms. She waves an awkward goodbye to Michael, who’s got a faint blush staining his cheeks, and as her back turns and she follows Neville to the switching stairs, it sounds as though Michael’s friends suddenly get louder, but she doesn’t have the energy to see what caused the noise.

Becca and Colin, as predicted, have fallen asleep, slumped together on one of the couches in front of the fireplace. Neville offers to bring Colin up, and despite her better judgment based on her limited knowledge of his clumsiness, she agrees, unsure she can carry more than one person up even a single flight of stairs.

Thankfully, Becca wakes up enough to support her own weight as they ascend, but she immediately collapses into her bed when Ginny sets her down.

“No gratitude,” Ginny mutters fondly to herself, slogging to the bathroom to wash the makeup off her face and take out the thousands of bobby pins holding her hair in place.

Even though it has all just happened, the night already feels like a blur. She can only distantly recall seeing Hermione’s tiff with Ron and Harry, and the pain of her squashed toes from dancing with Neville is replaced entirely by the pain from dancing in too-small shoes for hours on end.

Collapsing into her own bed and drawing the curtains closed has never felt so good, and sleep is blissfully quick.

—

The rest of the break is rather uneventful. Molly sends all their gifts by owl since they missed celebrating at home to stay for the Ball. Still, Ginny and Becca sleep so late into the morning that they wake with just enough time to unwrap their presents and exchange the ones they got for each other before heading down to meet Colin for lunch in the Great Hall. Unsurprisingly, there is no trace of the night before, and the usual tables and holiday decorations are back out once again.

Becca and Colin apologize profusely for falling asleep, but she waves it off and distracts them with stories of the dance. When she reaches the part about her odd interactions with Michael—thankfully this part of the story comes around when they are walking back to the common room and are out of earshot of any other students—her friends exchange a meaningful glance.

“What?” she asks as Becca and Colin give each other knowing looks that she can’t interpret.

Becca gives her the same knowing look, and when Ginny further expresses her confusion, her friend sighs in exasperation.

“Don’t you think he might fancy you?” she asks Ginny as if it were entirely obvious.

Oh. Ginny thinks. So that must be why he had been blushing so much, avoiding her gaze, and fumbling a bit when talking to her. Suddenly she feels a bit foolish for missing all the signs, and her face warms.

She shrugs defensively. “I don’t know, maybe? I don’t know him that well, or really at all… but I suppose he could.”

Colin rolls his eyes.

“Besides, maybe that wasn’t what it was at all. Maybe he was just a bit awkward cause he didn’t want me or Neville there. I mean, we were kind of interlopers after all.” Ginny knows she’s rambling now, trying to dig out of the hole this new possibility has dug.

Becca and Colin give her looks that this time she can interpret, and she blushes again. She’s never had anyone fancy her before, Harry certainly didn’t like her back but likely saw her more of a nuisance instead, so it’s weird to admit to herself that this seems the most likely reason for the way Michael was acting around her. She gets a warm feeling in her stomach the more she thinks about it. After getting over her crush on Harry the idea of anyone else taking his place never really crossed her mind, and it’s strange to now all of a sudden have a new possibility right in front of her.

She redirects the conversation to save herself, and her friends take pity on her and pretend not to notice.

Michael Corner doesn’t cross her mind too much until the first week back from the break. Classes have just begun again, and Ginny finds herself almost immediately heading to the library for a quiet place to start her homework. Usually, she meets Hermione or Becca and Colin—or some combination thereof—on her way there, but today she’s walking by herself.

She’s almost reached the door to the library when it opens, and a familiar figure appears. Michael stops when he sees her, his cheeks immediately turning pink as he smiles and waves. Ginny slows her pace and waves back, unsure what to do. But Michael seems to have a plan.

“Hey, Ginny, I just wanted to apologize for the other night at the dance. If I’m being honest I was kind of nervous to talk to you, and I guess you saw how that turned out.” He gave her a sheepish grin and she couldn’t help but feel bad for him, especially now that he was a lot more relaxed.

“It’s no big deal, we were all so tired that night.” He looks grateful for the excuse for his awkwardness and smiles bigger.

“Yeah. Anyway, um, I just was wondering, the next Hogsmeade weekend is coming up and I was thinking, maybe if you want we could go to the Three Broomsticks together?” She would have been more surprised that he’d managed to get that entire sentence out when it seemed so unlikely, what with all his stumbling over himself, had her surprise not already been completely used up with the realization that Michael was asking her out.

It seems that Becca and Colin were entirely correct, and maybe Ginny needs to get better at reading people. Something to ask Claire about, perhaps.

Michael watches her expectantly, and she blinks, feeling a blush forming.

“I, uh, yes!” Merlin, now she’s stumbling over her words. “That sounds fun, I’d like that.”

Michael looks so relieved she almost forgets how tense the air is around them.

“Great! I’ll meet you by the gates then?”

She nods, and he smiles brightly.

“Well, er, I should be off. Got quidditch practice. See you later, Ginny.” And off he goes, a lightness in his step that she isn’t sure was there before.

Ginny stares after him in a daze, her brain replaying the last few minutes. She isn’t surprised at her answer, necessarily, just that it was so quick. She shocked herself, really.

And it’s nice—she reasons as she makes her way into the library and begins to look for a seat—to have someone be interested in her. After all, her first year was bad enough without the embarrassment of her massive, unrequited crush on Harry that apparently even Slytherin knew about.

And besides, he isn’t even in her year or house, so if it all goes horribly bad and they have absolutely nothing in common—besides Quidditch, of course, since his last comment reminded her he’s a chaser for Ravenclaw’s team—she might never really have to talk to him again.

With that slightly comforting thought, Ginny sets up to begin working on her Muggle Studies homework. And it’s looking like she might actually make headway on her essay about early muggle farming techniques when Hermione comes rushing over, hair back to its regular frizziness, looking like she’s about to burst a blood vessel.

“That god-awful woman!” The girl seethes, setting her book bag down with more force than is necessary on the chair across from Ginny. Ginny merely stares up at her in confusion, trying to ignore the stares from all around as people look over at the sound of Hermione’s voice.

Knowing there is no way to avoid hearing about whatever Hermione has to say, Ginny sighs and sets down her quill.

“Who?”

“That Skeeter woman. She published the most awful things in her articles, I can’t believe the Daily Prophet actually lets her write all that filth!”

“The Daily Prophet will let any journalist write anything they want so long as it gets them readers while avoiding charges of libel and slander.” Ginny’s heard her father complain too often about the biases of the newspaper, and heard her mother defend it, more times than she can count, so she’s well versed in both sides of the argument.

“That isn’t right,” Hermione huffs. Ginny nods in agreement, turning back to her essay in the hopes that the other girl will see her attempting to work and take pity.

It almost works.

Hermione is quiet for a few moments, and then she huffs again.

“Well, don’t you think someone ought to do something about it?”

“Hermione, I’m not sure there is anything any Hogwarts student can really do. No editor of a newspaper that large is going to listen to a bunch of teenagers.”

Hermione doesn’t look discouraged, but she does turn away and begins writing furiously on a spare bit of parchment, and Ginny is finally left in peace to finish her essay.

But news of Rita Skeeter and her article don’t leave her quite as alone as she’d like. It seems as though every student with an owl, and many without, have seen the article that got Hermione so worked up. And when Ginny read the article herself, she finally understood why her friend had become so livid.

Whispers swirl around the Great Hall the first few mornings after the article’s publication. Colin reported that poor Hagrid hadn’t shown up to class for days, and one Professor Grubbly-Plank had taken over. Ginny sees Harry and Ron walking through the halls, dodging insults and ridicule from the Slytherins, and eventually, Hermione joins them. After a week or so, the chatter dies down, Hagrid returns to teaching, and life goes on.

The first Hogsmeade weekend of the term fast approaches, and as it grows closer so too does Becca and Colin’s teasing grow. Ginny shrugs it off, countering with innocuous comments on Becca’s own love life, and usually, this leaves the girl blushing and Colin laughing long enough for Ginny’s own embarrassment to die down.

The morning of the Hogsmeade trip, Ginny doesn’t know what to wear. Obviously, she’s going to wear her winter cloak on the walk over, it's the warmest thing she owns after all, but the Three Broomsticks will be too warm to keep it on. Besides, keeping her cloak on would be weird, right?

Becca watches, amused, from her own bed, already dressed and ready.

“Are you almost done?” she asks, knowing full well that Ginny is nowhere close.

“The process might go a bit faster if you help me,” Ginny pleads.

Becca shakes her head slowly, smiling. “Nope. This is too much fun.”

“You are a horrid friend.”

“You know you love me.”

“You do have your good days. Today is not one of them.”

Becca just laughs, and Ginny finally settles on her newest jumper and nicest pants. Both are a little more worn than she’d like, but they fit and are cute. And she also doesn’t want to keep Michael waiting.

Almost all the other students have left for the village already, but Colin and Michael are waiting for them by the gate. Just before Ginny and Becca reach the boys, Claire and Kat appear just beside them and join the group. Michael looks a little surprised to see so many others, but, despite all of their teasing earlier, Colin and Becca do Ginny a favor and pull the rest of the group ahead, leaving Ginny and Michael trailing behind, alone.

They walk in silence for a few seconds, and Ginny begins to wonder if the rest of the date will pass in this awkward limbo.

Determined not to let that happen, she racks her brain for anything the two might have in common, some shared hobby or better yet, passion, that she can grab hold of to make conversation. And, like a light in the dark, a memory from a few days prior pops into her head, and she almost shouts in triumph.

“You’re on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, right?” Idiot! What happened to “Hello, how are you?”

But there was no going back, and Michael seemed relieved enough to have something to talk about.

“Yeah, I’m a chaser. It’s my second year, I didn’t stand a chance of making it on when I tried out in my second year, but last year the captain said I’d improved a lot.” He paused. “I know your brothers have pretty much all been on Gryffindor’s team, but you aren’t are you?”

Ginny shook her head. “No. I tried out last year but all the chasers from the previous years came back so there were no spaces to fill. Maybe next year will be my chance.”

“Considering all the talent in your family, Johnson would be a fool not to at least consider you, even if all the other chasers come back.” Ginny’s chest warmed a little at the praise, even if it was more concerning her family and not her own skill. But Michael had never seen her play, no one aside from Harper and the others in the Room had, so she assured herself that if he knew her real skill he’d be even more impressed.

“If you’re ever up for a pick-up game, me and some of the other chasers from all the teams play occasionally. Technically we aren’t supposed to, but Madam Hooch gave us permission to use the field a few times a week. I’m sure everyone would be glad to have a prospective player join.”

“I might take you up on that,” Ginny responds with a smile, wondering if Harper attends those practices. Considering how secretive the Slytherin boy is she doubts it, but if he was willing to train with her then who really knows what else he’d do to stay sharp.

Michael smiles back at her, their conversation continuing amicably. Becca and Colin occasionally shoot her thumbs-up from where they walk ahead, but Ginny ignores them, trying to focus on her date, refusing to let an embarrassment from her friends ruin the day.

The Three Broomsticks is packed when they arrive—of course, everyone from the castle is trying to escape the cold—but Ginny and her friends manage to find a table in the back where they can squeeze in. Ginny and Michael sit at the end, backs to the wall, with the rest of their group sitting further down the table, giving the pair a little space and privacy, though the room is so crowded and loud that even sitting a foot away from another person means you can barely hear them.

This results in Ginny and Michael leaning into each other to carry on their conversation, which eventually moves from Quidditch at Hogwarts to the professional Quidditch teams. Michael was also at the Quidditch World Cup, and while he is a staunch Ireland fan, he does admit to Ginny that Krum is perhaps the best flier he’s ever seen.

On the walk back to the castle, the conversation finally moves away from Quidditch and more toward the Tournament. Michael, it turns out, is rather a supporter of Harry’s, having played against him in plenty of Quidditch matches he asserts that “Potter is an upstanding bloke” and that he doubts any wizard their age, regardless of “Boy-Who-Lived” status could have gotten past Dumbledore’s age line.

All-in-all, Ginny thinks to herself as they approach the castle gates, the date went rather well. She’d been worried about how awkward things might be in the beginning, but after the rocky start, she really enjoyed herself.

They pause by the gates, both having to go in different directions back to their towers.

Michael clears his throat, his face turning a little pink. “Well, er, I had a lot of fun today.”

Ginny nods, her face heating as well. “Me too. Could we do it again sometime?”

Michael smiles. “I’d like that.”

Returning the smile, Ginny feels a surge of bravery, and stands on her tiptoes, reaching up to kiss Michael’s cheek. He seems taken aback for a moment, and Ginny waves goodbye, leaving him standing there. After a moment he waves back, a big smile on his face.

Ginny makes it down the corridor and around the corner before she is tackled by a horde of screams.

“You kissed him?” Colin asks, astonished.

“You kissed him!” Becca shouts, clapping her on the back.

“You rogue!” Kat laughs, while Claire just stands there, amused.

“It was on the cheek!” Ginny defends, laughing at her friends’ reactions. “And you creeps, watching me that whole time!”

“It was very entertaining,” Becca cackles, and Ginny punches her in the shoulder.

“Calm down children, no fighting,” Kat chides.

“She started it.”

“No, I finished it.”

“That’s what you think, huh?”

The laughter continues all the way down the hall.

Chapter Text

The next few weeks fly by in a flurry of classes, visits to the Room, and meetings in the library with various friends—sometimes including Michael—to study. The weather has been dreadful this winter, and she doubts any pick-up games are happening out on the pitch, but, though she doesn’t like to admit it to herself, she hopes that once the sun emerges Michael invites her to join a game.

Practicing Quidditch in the space provided by the Room is nice, but sometimes Ginny finds herself remembering that the wind in her face isn’t real, and neither is the sun, though its warmth certainly feels it.

And while practicing with Harper has made her technique and reflexes sharper, she wants some of the camaraderie of an actual team playing for fun, not just to win or be the best.

But the rain presses on as the second task quickly approaches, and the buzz that left the school after the Yule Ball returns with ardor.

Ginny rarely sees any of the champions in the halls, but hears plenty from Hermione about how Harry still doesn’t know what he is going to do. Gryffindor remains steadfast in their loyalty to their champion, and no one doubts Harry’s skill, but Ginny begins to worry a little for him.

But the morning of the second task arrives regardless, and Ginny wraps herself in more layers than normal before joining her friends and the rest of the castle in trudging down to the lakeside to watch.

There is obvious concern present in the crowd when she arrives, as three out of the four champions are accounted for, with one still missing.

But Harry comes rushing down the path, and he joins the others by the lake, very late but accounted for. Ludo Bagman announces the start of the task to the crowd and off they go.

In all honesty, it’s a pretty boring task to watch. An hour of sitting there, watching the surface for any sign of the champions, with nothing to do but talk.

“Wonder why Harry was so late,” Colin muses for the third time as they all stare vacantly at the lake.

“Well he made it, that’s all that matters,” Becca responds, an echo of the same response she gave the first two times the topic was brought up. Then, a shout goes up somewhere in the Hufflepuff section as Cedric bursts out of the lake holding a coughing and dripping wet Cho Chang.

The house cheers, joined by a few supportive Ravenclaws, and the others look on at the celebrations. The large clock suspended above the judge's table reads that the hour allotted has just ended, but still, being the first to return with the hostage has to majorly count in Cedric’s favor. A few minutes later, there is another cry and the Durmstrang students yell in excitement as Krum emerges, his upper body just changing back from what appears to be a shark.

Becca winces at the sight. “Unfortunate transfiguration, that.” Ginny nods, watching as Hermione stumbles out of the water with him. Madam Pomfrey shoos them both over to sit with Cedric and Cho, who are wrapped in blankets, shivering despite the potion Pomfrey gave them that made steam blow out their ears.

Now the crowd is even more tense, wondering which of the last two will arrive to take the third spot and who will be the final champion to return.

“I bet you anything it’s Harry next-” Colin has just begun to say as Fleur Delacour pops out of the water. The Beauxbatons students begin to applaud—in a much more subdued way, Ginny notices—when a murmur races through the crowd and Ginny looks closer.

Fleur, it appears, has returned without her hostage, and is frantically searching through the shallows of the lake, crying out a name.

Madam Pomfrey and Madam Maxime rush forward and pull her to shore where she stands, shaking and crying, clutching the blanket Madam Pomfrey offers her tightly, the Beauxbatons headmistress standing at her shoulder, murmuring to her trembling student in French.

And now the crowd watches in silence, waiting for the last champion to arrive.

They aren’t kept long, as Harry finally returns, though, to everyone’s shock, it is with two hostages and not just one.

Ginny isn’t surprised to see that Ron was the one Harry needed to reach, and she assumes from the appearance of the young girl accompanying them, as well as from Fleur’s yells as soon as the trio surface, that the girl is Fleur’s younger sister.

“He waited to help the girl?” Becca guesses as Pomfrey practically attacks the last three with blankets and Pepperup potions.

“Are you really that surprised?” Colin asks, a little of the besotted first year coming back in the prideful look he casts at Harry.

“Of course he would,” Ginny comments to herself. “The bloody brave fool.”

It seems the judges agree with Ginny’s label of “brave” as they award Harry second place for “moral fiber”. Becca scoffs at that, but cheers just as loudly as the other Gryffindors when the realization goes around that this puts Harry and Cedric neck and neck in overall scores. Hufflepuff isn’t happy, obviously, but still they go off to celebrate their champion, as does Gryffindor.

The general cheer in the Gryffindor Tower is slightly more subdued this time around, what with the house being used to their champion's victories, but nonetheless Harry—and Ron, Ginny is amused to see—get their fair share of time in the spotlight, telling stories of the lake and the merpeople within until late in the evening.

By the end of the night, Ron’s story has transformed a little, and the merpeople who were initially described by Harry as relatively peaceful watchers have become vicious guards whom Harry had to fight off with defensive spells before he could rescue Ron and Gabrielle, which Ginny learns is the name of Fleur’s little sister.

Hermione watches from a spot in front of the fireplace, and though Ginny sits across the room with Becca and Colin, playing a slow game of wizards chess, she can see the exasperated and fond expression on the girl’s face.

“Bloody idiots, all three of them,” she thinks to herself, before saying goodnight to her friends and heading up to the dormitory. It’s late, but tomorrow is a Saturday, so she isn’t too worried. As she gets ready for bed, the noise in the common room below dies down, and Becca comes up as well. The other girls in their dorm join them, all five passing each other as they go about getting ready, before murmured goodnights fill the room and the lights are flicked out.

Ginny lays awake for a little while, looking up at the canopy above her bed. Almost subconsciously, her hand strays under her pillow, and she grabs hold of the Basilisk fang.

“He’s gone,” she whispers, quiet enough that none of her dormmates could hear her. She isn’t quite sure why she needs the reassurance, but it calms the slightly too quick drum of her heart, and sleep is quick to come after.

—

It takes a few days for the castle to quiet down. Durmstrang isn’t happy with Harry for stealing second place from their champion, and Hufflepuff isn’t happy that Harry had to “go and be a typical Gryffindor and play the bloody hero,” as Kat puts it one day in a huff. Beauxbatons simply continues to look down their noses at the other students, although this is with less of an air of authority and holier-than-thou-ness, Ginny likes to think.

However, she doesn't like to think much about the reason for the blow to Beauxbatons ego. She never sees Gabrielle roaming the halls and assumes the girl was sent home considering none of the Beauxbatons students too young to compete are present at Hogwarts. She hopes Fleur is alright, but considering her last encounter with the girl, Ginny isn’t exactly sure how telling Fleur this would go over.

Still, when Ginny spots Fleur sitting alone one afternoon in the library, she can’t help but pluck up the courage to go over and take an empty seat by the girl.

Fleur casts her a bemused glance but does not look up from the letter she appears to be writing to none other than her sister, judging from the name at the top. Ginny resists the urge to read the letter—besides, she can’t speak or read French, so the temptation stays merely that—and instead, she thinks for a minute in silence about what she wants to say.

“My oldest brother Bill works for Gringotts in Egypt. I rarely see him, and though my parents try not to worry us too much with news about his job, I know some of what he does is a little dangerous. Charlie, he’s the second oldest, he works with dragons in Romania.” She sees Fleur’s eyes widen at that, and hums.

“I know, we all think he’s absolutely mental too. Percy doesn’t exactly do anything dangerous, but he does work for the ministry, and even though I know Voldemort is gone, the stories of how many Ministry workers went missing during the war…” she trails off, takes a deep breath, continues.

“Fred and George are always getting into trouble, and I know they’re smart, but sometimes I think they go a bit too far. And Ron. Well, he’s best friends with Harry Potter. Do you know, he’s been in more danger in the last three years since meeting Harry than he’s ever been in his whole life? I think there’s been at least one incident each year since he started going here. Perfect score, honestly.”

Ginny isn’t quite sure she hears correctly, but it sounds like a small laugh escapes Fleur, though the girl of course gives no sign she is listening.

“The point I’m trying to make is, I know how you feel. Watching your sibling in danger is one of the most awful feelings in the world. I am so sorry you went through that at the lake, and I really hope you and Gabrielle are doing better now that it’s over.”

She’s about to stand, both of them have been silent for a few moments too long, and she is sure Fleur has nothing to say, when the girl sets down her pen.

“Even if I am a ‘Beauxbatons brat with a stick up my arse?’” Fleur asks snidely, though a small smile graced her lips.

Ginny flushes, embarrassed by her harsh words from a few months earlier.

“Ah, right. Sorry about that. I mean, you were being a bit of a snot, but that was rude.”

Fleur nods and turns back to her letter, silvery hair falling to hide her face. Ginny takes this as a cue to leave, the conversation ending on an unfortunate note, but she is glad to have said what she planned. Before she can get too far though, she hears the girl’s accented voice speak up once more, this time from behind the curtain of hair.

“Hogwarts does have character. And good students.”

Ginny smiles, then remembers Fleur can’t see her, and stumbles for something to say.

“It takes some getting used to, certainly. I hope the rest of your stay is enjoyable.”

Fleur nods, and Ginny walks back to the table where she left her book bag discarded on a chair. It wasn’t exactly a friendly exchange, but she can already feel the mended bridge lift a weight off her shoulders.

Later, when she has a moment to steal away to the Room, she slips into her alcove. She has to search for the parchment she wrote on months ago after that first disastrous encounter with Fleur in the bathroom, but then she finds it under a few large books on the shelf.

She smooths it a little, looking down at the dried ink, sitting on the page dully, and breathes a sigh of relief.

It seems a bit foolish to still be worried that the ink could have disappeared, but a small voice that sounds like Ms Hussain reminds her that her fears are perfectly founded, considering the past.

In fact, she’d mentioned her attempt at another diary entry to Ms Hussain back in December, when writing a Christmas card. The woman had responded that Ginny was making good progress in facing her trauma in this way, and Ginny lets those encouraging words wash over her as she takes out a quill and ink bottle.

She dips the tip in the ink, letting it hover over the parchment just as she had last time. It hits the paper and spreads, soaking in a little before beginning to dry.

Permanent, as it was before.

Thinking for a moment, Ginny touches quill to parchment and begins to write.

Chapter Text

Once again, Ginny first learns of Rita Skeeter’s latest article from a fuming Hermione Granger. The girl barrels through the library, many students lifting their heads in wonder at the sight. After a few months of studying with Ginny and Hermione, Becca and Colin are relatively used to the intense approach Hermione takes when it comes to learning, but neither are as prepared as Ginny is for the frenzied state Hermione enters on this particular day as she mutters to herself, scribbling more notes on a very cluttered bit of parchment covering in crossed out sentences.

They watch her work for a few moments. Becca shoots Ginny a look that asks, Is she okay? Ginny nods, even though she isn’t quite sure herself, but she only works up the courage to ask Hermione what’s wrong as she and her friends pack up to leave.

The older girl appears not to even notice, digging through a text she’d pulled down off a nearby shelf only moments ago.

“Hermione? Are you alright?” Ginny is hesitant to interrupt the girl’s frantic search, but this really is worrying her.

“What? Oh, yes. Well, no. I will be, actually, once I figure out how that awful woman keeps sneaking onto the grounds. If it's something illegal I could have her blacklisted from every wizarding publication! But I just need to find out how…”

Hermione trailed off and kept flipping through the text, occasionally checking the table of contents, and Ginny shrugs to her friends as they leave.

The Witch Weekly article doesn’t take long to circulate through the school, just as the earlier Daily Prophet story had. Soon the entire school believes that Hermione is playing with the hearts of both Harry and Krum.

Ginny knows the truth, as does anyone who actually knows Hermione. No one who really knew the girl could believe she would play with the feelings of anyone. Nonetheless, Ginny watches as the poor girl continues to receive hate mail every morning. To Hermione’s credit, none of it seems to phase her, not even the howlers that shriek horrible obscenities and curses at her.

The Slytherins appear delighted, the rest of the school falling somewhere between distant concern or outright hostility.

Ginny doesn’t expect any real hostility from anyone who is close to Hermione, at least not until Easter rolls around. Her mum’s chocolate Easter eggs arrive during breakfast, poor Errol is helped along by two school owls just to carry all the treats. Fred, George, Ron, Ginny, Harry, and even Becca and Colin all receive large eggs, but when Ginny glances down the table to see the decorative chocolates the others got, she sees the smallest egg sitting on Hermione’s plate.

The girl is clearly trying to look like the dismal gift doesn’t bother her, but compared to Molly’s normally very kind gifts, even to her children’s friends, this tiny egg is a clear message.

“I forgot my mum reads Witch Weekly,” she mutters to herself, Becca hearing her and glancing down the table too.

“Poor Hermione. Why would your mum believe what Skeeter writes anyway?”

“She’s awfully protective of Harry, and she doesn’t know Hermione very well, since she usually is with her parents during the holidays. Still, it’s weird that she believed Hermione would do something so cruel.”

Even if her mum thought Rita Skeeter was reporting truth instead of gossip, Ginny can’t believe she actually would snub Hermione in such a way.

She feels bad for Hermione, but there isn’t much she can really do. Still, she decides a letter to her mum can’t hurt. Ginny hasn’t written to her in a while, and if somehow a mention of Rita Skeeter’s lies slipped in, well, would that be such a bad thing?

Her alcove in the Room has become the area she goes when she needs to think, and it’s the first place she heads to as soon as breakfast is done, ducking into an empty corridor just by the South Courtyard.

Surprisingly, Claire is nowhere to be found when she enters the Room.

This is quite possibly the only time that has ever happened, Ginny muses as she enters her alcove. It certainly felt empty in the large room without the familiar face, even if that face rarely paid much attention to anyone else unless bothered.

Ginny isn’t exactly sure how to start her letter, so she looks around the room for inspiration. Her eyes alight on the empty picture frames sitting on the mantel next to the Floo powder jar.

She meant to ask Colin if he had any photos on his camera she could have, but now wondered if her mum had any photos from when she and her brothers were younger. Something that might take her back to her childhood when she looks at it.

So she starts her letter, asking if she could go through any family photos her mum might have stored, to see if there’s something she’d like to bring back to Hogwarts with her next year.

Ginny almost gets lost in updating her mum on everything that’s happened since her last letter. She details the second challenge, and that’s when she remembers the original purpose of writing the letter in the first place. Thinking for a moment, she sneaks in a line about how it's awful that Rita Skeeter is so incorrectly reporting on the Tournament, especially since she has been banned from the grounds by Dumbledore himself.

Content with what she’s written, after she throws in a last line thanking her mum for the Easter egg, she seals the letter up.

It may be a little manipulative, and she considers briefly that perhaps it would be better to just outright tell her mum that what Rita Skeeter is writing is untrue, and that the little egg sent to Hermione was quite cruel, but then Ginny remembers how headstrong and stubborn her mum is. It’s a trait all the Weasley children have, and they certainly didn’t get it from their easygoing father.

So this letter full of hints will have to do.

Standing up, she exits her alcove, surprised once more to see that Claire is still missing. But she is on a mission now, and considering the trek she will have to make across the grounds to the owlery, it’s best she starts now without delay.

Even though she entered the Room on the south side of Hogwarts, near the Great Hall, she exits by the greenhouses. It’s a strange thing the Room has done a couple of times, letting her out in a different area than where she entered from. Ginny read in the book Claire had shown her the previous year that the Room does this when the original entry presents danger as an exit. Considering Filch’s office is not very far from where Ginny entered, she counts herself lucky for this little bit of magic and begins the walk down to the owlery.

It’s a rather nice day out, the sun shining down on the grounds, all the plants just beginning to grow again as the promise of spring finally sticks.

Other students seem to plan on enjoying the pleasant weather, as she spies a large group of students carrying brooms down to the pitch. One among them begins waving at her as she passes them, and then Michael is rushing over, cheeks pink from the wind, which hasn’t lost all of its wintry chills yet.

“Ginny!” he exclaims as he gets closer. “Perfect, I wasn’t sure when I’d get a chance to tell you.”

“Tell me what?” she asks, though she is quite sure she knows, considering the look of the group he just came from.

“I talked to the others, we’d love to have you join our pickup games if you still are up to it.”

A thrill goes through Ginny, though she tries to hide the smile bubbling up inside her.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! We’re heading down now to set up for the game, if you’d like to come now we could add you on to a team.”

Ginny is nodding before he finishes speaking. “Alright, let’s go then.”

She tucks the letter inside her coat, promising to send it as soon as the game is done. She smiles at Michael, who returns it, taking her hand and leading her down the path.

The contact sends a shock of nerves up her arm, her skin heating. But it’s nice, she decides, and easy, and so she lets the giddiness of the moment carry her feet lightly down to the Quidditch pitch.

A whole mix of students is collected on the grass when they arrive. She spies a good portion of Gryffindors, mostly from the team but a few students there to play for fun. She only recognizes a few Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, mostly also from the teams, but since she doesn’t know many students from either house she can’t say for sure.

Slytherin is vastly in the minority on the pitch today, though some students are there talking and laughing with the others.

Angelina Johnson stands to the side, talking with Roger Davies, the Ravenclaw captain, with a few other players standing in a loose circle around the pair. Cedric and Harry are the first people Ginny notices are not present, though Cedric’s girlfriend Cho Chang is. Her brothers also make an appearance, striding over to her with looks of glee.

“None of these fools know what’s coming to them now that you’re here sis,” George says, looking around at the others.

Fred turns to Michael. “You better watch yourself, mister. We reckon she’ll be playing for Gryffindor next year, so don’t go making an enemy of her or you’ll regret it.”

Michael doesn’t seem to know how to take this, and Ginny just rolls her eyes at the twins.

“These two are just mad because I beat them in every pickup game we played last summer.”

Fred grinned. “And now we’re happy because we finally get to play with you.”

“And watch every other poor sap on this field have to deal with your ruthlessness instead of us,” George adds.

Ginny scoffs, and Michael looks at her with surprise.

“You didn’t tell me you played seriously.”

“You didn’t ask,” Ginny comments back as Johnson and Davies call the groups together. Michael looks dumbstruck but says nothing else as the students gather around the captains.

“Like always, Davies and I will draw for who gets to choose first. For those of you who are new-” Ginny can’t tell if this was directed at her or not, “-forget your house affiliations for the next hour. We won’t be choosing based on house but rather skill, and any players who aren’t comfortable with this are free to leave or be asked to leave at any time.”

Johnson sweeps the crowd with a harsh look, barely meeting Ginny’s eye before she reaches into a bag Davies holds and draws out a slip of parchment. Davies takes the other, and when they open the two, his has a large black ink dot in the center.

The first player he picks is Cho Chang as his seeker. Then Johnson picks the Hufflepuff keeper. George goes to Davies, but Johnson gets Fred. The twins grin at each other as they cross to the opposite teams. Ginny wonders if this is one of the few times they get to be matched against each other.

By the end of it, Michael has gone to Johnson, and most of the other players are split up. Ginny and a few others remain. She watches Johnson scan the last of the students, her eyes brushing right over Ginny to choose a Slytherin chaser to complete her team. Ginny tries not to let any disappointment show on her face, but then she hears Davies call, “Weasley!”

George smiles conspiratorially at her as she walks to join him.

“You didn’t by chance have anything to do with Davies choosing me, did you, dear brother?” She asks sweetly as Johnson addresses the rest of the students, promising a second round where they will all be able to participate.

“Of course not,” he responds. “But if I did, is it really my fault for taking advantage of Davies’ naïveté and susceptible nature to get a really good player on my team instead of Fred’s?”

He winks, and waves over at his twin, who watches with a grimace. Ginny smiles and waves at her brother, who actually looks a little worried. Michael spots the exchange, a bewildered look crossing his face again.

“This ought to be fun,” George comments.

The teams mount their brooms, and one of the students stays on the ground to do the toss-off. Johnson takes the Quaffle immediately, zooming off to the end of the field where the Slytherin student playing as keeper waits.

Ginny follows Davies’ lead, and as he goes to tail Johnson she moves to intercept the Slytherin chaser who flies as support for Johnson.

A blur shoots past her, and Alicia Spinnet, one of Gryffindor’s chasers and the other chaser on Davies’ team intercepts a pass Johnson tries to make to the Slytherin Ginny tails.

Ginny pulls her broom around in a tight maneuver that might have been a bit risky considering the way the old Comet shakes.

But she zooms down the field as Spinnet looks for an opening to pass. A sudden movement behind her catches her eye, and Michael is there instead of the Slytherin she expected.

She grins to herself, figuring he wants to see for himself just how good she is.

This ought to be fun.

She echoes George’s earlier sentiment and swerves, leaving Michael to quickly dodge the bludger Fred just hit toward her. As she does this, she is made open, and Spinnet passes to her.

Ginny catches the Quaffle and flies, going for the goals. Michael is on her tail again as she flies, apparently recovered from his run-in with the bludger. He moves up, trying to cut her off before the goal, and she looks for an opening to throw. Thankfully, Spinnet appears on her left, and Ginny passes.

Just before Spinnet’s hands close around the ball, Johnson arrives in a blur and snatches it away, shooting off, leaving Ginny to huff and spin around once more.

There’s no time to waste on feeling bad about the pass, as the game continues at the same fast pace.

Davies makes the first goal, the Quaffle flying just past the fingertips of the Hufflepuff keeper. Then, a shout rises from the other end of the field, as the two seekers, Cho Chang and a young Slytherin Ginny doesn’t recognize, go head to head racing for the Snitch.

Davies and Johnson yell at their respective teams to keep playing, and Ginny dodges a bludger from the Hufflepuff beater on Johnson’s team as she takes the Quaffle as it’s being passed from Michael to the Slytherin. Michael rushes her side, causing her to drop the Quaffle down to Davies. He swerves around Johnson, throws it back to Spinnet, and Ginny looks down the field.

Her mind works a few moves ahead, and she pushes her broom to its limits, moving up to an open spot that the opposing chasers haven’t covered. Spinnet's eyes follow her for a second, longer enough for Ginny to know she’s been seen. Spinnet fakes to one side, then she ducks under an approaching Johnson and throws.

Ginny dives for the Quaffle, catching it and throwing it almost as soon as it touches her fingers. It’s barely enough force to redirect the ball, but it’s just enough so the Quaffle flies through the goalpost, just as a cheer goes up from the ground. Everyone turns to see Cho Chang flying triumphantly, her hand held high above her head, the Snitch fluttering in her grasp.

Just like that, the game is over, and everyone flies down to switch around the teams so the grounded players can have a go.

The captains of the two sides shake hands, then turn immediately to reorganize the teams to include the others, and Michael touches down next to Ginny, a wide smile stretched across his face.

“You were brilliant!” he exclaims, the disbelief and confusion from earlier gone, replaced by excitement.

Ginny blushes.

“I thought your brothers were just taking the mickey, but you flew really well out there.” Michael’s smile is contagious and Ginny can’t help but return it. They walk away from the larger group, where the captains have begun to choose the new teams.

“Do you practice by yourself? I know you weren’t on the Gryffindor team last year, I would have remembered seeing you.”

“Er, yeah, I practice a lot at home. We have a paddock nearby my house where we can fly without being seen by the Muggles in town.” Ginny isn’t sure how much to reveal, and hopes her deflection of the full truth sounds real enough.

But Michael just nods as if that makes sense. “I noticed, it felt like you hadn’t played too much with teammates. But that turn you took, you nearly got that bludger to knock me off my broom.” Ginny winces, remembering the way the bludger barely missed Michael, but the praise is filling her with too much of that giddy feeling, and his smile is so infectious that she easily brushes off the uncomfortable feeling.

“I had a goal to make. You just got in my way,” she teases.

Michael blushes. On the field, the teams have been decided, and the players kick off into the air. Ginny notices that once again, Fred and George are out on the pitch, though Spinnet and a handful of the other players have been switched out.

Michael follows her gaze. “I guess we missed the chance to play again.”

“Yeah.” Ginny shrugs. “I still had fun. Thanks again, for inviting me.”

Michael grins and takes her hand. Ginny tries not to react too much at the sudden contact, but the brush of skin makes her feel a little warm despite the cool breeze still blowing.

“The offer extends to every game. I would love to have you come back, though maybe your brothers are right, and it’s better to have you on my side rather than against me.”

Ginny laughs, and they walk to the broom shed to drop off their brooms.

“Do you want to go to the library or something? I mean, we could hang out here, but it's kind of cold when you aren’t in the air…” Michael asks hesitantly, and Ginny nods.

“I’d like that.”

“Ginny?” A voice behind them makes her pause. Alicia Spinnet stands a little away from a group of students her year, who wait with obvious exasperation. “Could I talk to you really quick?”

“Um, sure.” Michael looks confused, and Ginny shoots him a look that she hopes conveys the fact that she has no clue what this is about.

“Can you take my broom? I’ll catch up with you.”

He nods, continuing on his way as Ginny goes to meet Alicia.

The older girl looks a little nervous but starts talking immediately.

“I just want to say, you flew very well out there. It’s clear you need to work on flying with a team, but some of the moves you pulled were well beyond the skill of a novice or someone just playing for fun.” Ginny tries not to let the small praise distract her too much, trying to figure out where the girl is going with this.

“I don’t know how you’ve become so good, but I want to tell you to keep at it, whatever you’re doing. It may seem like Angelina didn’t notice you, but she did. I’m not going to promise you anything, but you should come back for tryouts next term.”

“What?” Ginny isn’t sure she heard Alicia right.

“If you keep up practicing, however you’ve been doing that, you could really be an asset to the team. Angelina knows that. So come to tryouts next term.”

Alicia begins to walk away, and Ginny doesn’t know what to say, so she lets the older girl get absorbed into her group. Michael comes up beside her, and they watch the older students trudge back up to the castle.

“What did she say?”

Michael’s words shake Ginny out of the daze she’s in, trying to process the conversation.

“Oh, nothing really. Just saying I flew well.” She smiles up at him and takes his hand. “Come on, the fire in the library is calling to me.”

Chapter Text

Michael delivers the horrible news that the Quidditch pitch has been taken over for the third task halfway through May.

Ginny has just sought him out in the library, wanting to ask about the next pick-up game and when it was scheduled. She got caught up in talking with him, however, and completely forgot her original purpose until he mentioned this news offhandedly.

“But I guess this means we’ll just try to find some other way to spend time together,” he says with a smile.

Despite the disappointment, Ginny smiles back, nodding. All the Hogsmeade weekends have passed, and as the final weeks of the term approach, studying takes the place of fun during any amount of free time available. But she reminds herself of how close the summer is, and that soon she will be free once again from the burden of schoolwork and the stress that comes with it.

Of course, this means leaving behind some parts of Hogwarts that she’d rather not go without, and when Kat finds her in the halls one day after lunch to let her know about a small gathering in the Room, Ginny doesn’t hesitate to blow off an afternoon of studying to slip away.

Claire is where she always is, and a few more students loiter about, talking with each other or standing alone and silent, likely saying goodbye in their own way. Ginny and Kat take their seats on either side of Claire as they always do, and the three watch the Room and its students together.

Harper leaves the pitch at one point, nodding to the three girls but saying nothing to them or anyone else.

“Some things never change,” Ginny remarks as they watch the door close behind him.

“It might not be entirely obvious, but he has changed.”

Ginny shoots a curious look at Claire.

“Remember what I told you? He’s not one of Malfoy’s lackeys anymore, at least not in the same way that he was. He’s still a monstrous prick, but he ignores me more than anything else, and honestly I do the same to him. It’s nice, compared to how it was.”

“He can’t even find the decency to apologize?” Ginny feels her blood heat a little.

“Do you think anyone with as much self-pride as Harper is going to easily admit their mistakes? Trust me, he knows he did something bad, but it will take a lot longer than it’s already been for him to be willing to say that out loud. Be grateful he’s made any change at all,” Kat scoffs, and both Ginny and Claire look at her, surprised that the usually kind girl has an edge of malice to her voice.

“What? Slytherin’s aren’t the only ones who have to deal with each other's hardheadedness. Unfortunately, I have too much of that in my family.”

“I suppose I do too,” Ginny says after a moment. Kat’s features soften, and the calm silence from earlier descends once more as a few more students enter, dispersing to the different parts of the Room.

After a while, Ginny’s eyes stray to the door of the Room, watching as students enter and exit through it. She tries to memorize as many faces as she can. She may not know all of them, but she can at least try to learn what they look like, to recognize them in the halls. As she watches, she spies a few familiar faces.

The door opens again, and Ginny watches to see who walks in. Then, a nervous face peers around curiously.

“Neville?” Ginny stands in surprise.

“Ginny?” Neville looks relieved to see her. “What is this place?” His eyes travel around the room in astonishment, much as Ginny imagines her own did when she first entered the Room. “I mean, I got lost on my way to the bathrooms, and this door just kind of appeared…”

He looks back at Ginny, and then at the two girls sitting next to her. “Did you all get lost too?”

Instead of answering, Claire turns to Ginny. “Who is this.”

Ginny stands. “Claire, Kat, meet Neville. He’s in my brother’s year. Neville,” she turns to him, “this is Claire and Kat. And this, this is the Room.” She gestures around her.

“The Room? What does that-”

“It’s a safe place. Somewhere to get away.” Kat chimes in, watching Neville with a small smile. Claire stays silent, though Ginny knows if she wanted she could explain all of this more succinctly.

“I don’t understand. The door just appeared…” Neville moves further in, his eyes catching on the sight of the goalposts through the tall windows. “Is that a Quidditch pitch?”

Ginny nods. “That’s for me and Harper. These doors lead to rooms for other students. That door over there leads to my room.” She points to the door for her alcove. “Most of these spaces are private, but usually when a student joins, they get their own space.” She glances back at Kat, who shrugs.

“Do I get one?” Neville asks, eyes scanning the doors that line the walls.

“Follow me.” Claire stands abruptly, turning to walk to the door that leads to the locker room. Ginny and Kat share a glance before following, and Neville pauses, but Ginny doesn’t look back. She remembers what Claire told her about the Room on her first day inside. The Room would offer its space to use, but it was Ginny’s choice whether or not to accept it.

The sound of shoes scuffing on the stone floor tells Ginny that Neville decided to follow, and she lets out a sigh of relief.

Claire leads them through the door but past the entrance to the locker rooms. Down that hall, and taking a right, there’s a new door. It’s made of glass, which has a foggy coating so all Ginny can see past it is light and blurry, indistinct shapes. Claire pauses in front of it, turning to face Neville.

“This door appeared this morning. No one has joined us since, so I think it’s safe to assume it is for you.”

Neville walks forward, hesitant, but Ginny gives him what she hopes is a reassuring nod, and he reaches out for the handle. She can see the moment that he feels the magic course through him, remembering the same feeling she had upon touching the handle to her alcove, and she knows Claire was right, and this new space is for Neville.

They watch him open the door, and when Claire turns her eyes away, so do Ginny and Kat. Whatever lies beyond the door could be private, and unless Neville chooses to invite them in, they must respect his privacy.

“It’s empty.”

Neville sounds confused.

“That just means it’s your choice whether or not to fill it. The Room provides the space, you choose how to use it.” Claire turns to Ginny and Kat. “We should let him have time alone.”

“Neville,” Ginny calls. “We’ll be out in the main room if you need anything.”

“Okay.” He sounds distracted, and she hears the door close softly. Smiling to herself, Ginny follows Claire and Kat out into the main room. She wonders if she had the same distracted, almost star-struck reaction to entering the Room for the first time, if Kat or Claire did as well.

Then her eyes land on the door to her alcove, and she makes her way to it. The others say nothing, but she knows they watch her until the door opens, and then they go to the couch and leave her to her thoughts.

The parchment where she wrote twice before is sitting on the couch. An ink pot sits beside it with a quill, almost as if the Room knows she left hers in the other room. It takes Ginny a moment to notice, but when she gets the odd feeling that the alcove has gotten bigger and casts a glance around to see if anything has changed, her eyes land on a low bookshelf.

It’s only a meter tall, with two levels, but already a few books sit on the top shelf. One is the books she read after telling Claire about her Aunt Muriel, another is the old tome which changes languages to suit the reader.

The third and final book Ginny recognizes instantly as a copy of Hogwarts: A History. She huffs out a laugh, shaking her head. But still, she is grateful to the Room for this, and so she whispers a small, “thank you,” before going to sit on the couch, moving the ink, quill, and parchment to her lap.

She shuffles through the pages, moving aside the pieces with writing from before until she gets to a blank page.

Ginny sits on the couch for a long time before she finally picks up the quill.

—

Exams approached with a swiftness brought on by the general excitement for the third task to arrive. The task was set to take place on the last day, so of course everyone suffered through the end-of-the-year exams the same as always.

Ginny’s Herbology and Potions exams fall on the final day, one before and one after lunch, so she is up early to study in the library that morning. Becca and Colin join her, and then the group meets up with Kat as they hike down to the greenhouses. Ginny sees Luna on her way to her own exam, and though there is no time to chat, she still manages to give a small wave. The girl’s eyes light up, and she waves back.

The exam goes alright, although a few of the students ended up covered in stinksap. Overall, Ginny muses, it could have been worse.

She’s lost in thought when Becca pokes her arm.

“Ginny, look!”

She looks up to see the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. Surprised that they made it back already, she doesn’t see what Becca is pointing at for a moment. But then the two shocks of bright red hair catch her eye, and she runs down the aisle to throw her arms around the shoulders of Bill and her mum.

They’ve come to watch Harry in the final task and thus joined the Gyrffindors for lunch. Ginny and her brothers form quite a loud group at the table, with Becca, Colin, Harry, and Hermione sprinkled throughout. Ginny is pleased to note that her mum is much kinder to Hermione, and she assumes this means her letter did its job. She spots Fleur shooting Bill a couple looks that are hardly conspicuous, and when the older girl sees Ginny catch her in the act, she flushes slightly.

Ginny only rolls her eyes and turns back around. It isn’t exactly her place to intervene, so she focuses instead on the twins regaling the group with stories of Harry’s previous two tasks. Much of the retellings are embellished, and Harry’s face remains a light pink throughout, but he laughs with the rest as Fred insists Harry had to save Ron from a horde of merpeople who wished to drown him and steal his hair.

“That’s not what happened,” Ron mutters to himself, and Hermione laughs. Ginny watches a smile slowly spread across Ron’s face at the sound, and says nothing.

Potions also goes relatively well, all things considered. Becca, Ginny is sure, aced the exam, which covered all the antidotes to poisons they learned this year, and even a few they didn’t that Ginny is sure Snape threw in to cause more distress.

Her mum and Bill join them again for dinner, where Harry looks exceptionally more nervous than he was at lunch. He barely eats, though Molly tries to convince him to, and when Dumbledore stands to call the champions to head down to the stadium, he looks slightly pale.

It’s only about fifteen minutes later that the rest of them are allowed to follow, and the chatter has never been louder.

Ginny sees Kat and Claire through the crowd, though both stay with their respective houses. She also sees Luna walking alone, and after making a snap decision, pushes between a few disgruntled students and taps her on the shoulder.

“Would you like to sit with us?” she asks, suddenly feeling a little breathless. Luna’s smile is radiant as she nods and follows Ginny back the way she came. They pass Michael, who is walking with his friends, and she stops to say hi before continuing.

Though she isn’t sure she sees it correctly, Ginny thinks Michael gave Luna a funny look as they passed, though this could be due to the very brightly colored scarf the girl has wrapped around her neck despite the warm June air.

“Oh, hello dear, I don’t believe we’ve met. Are you a friend of Ginny’s?” Molly spots the pair approaching and gives Luna a warm smile.

“Yes, she’s very nice to me,” Luna says with a grin.

“Mum, this is Luna Lovegood.” Molly’s face lights in recognition.

“You’re Xenophillius Lovegood’s daughter?” Luna nods. “Ah. Well, tell your father hello for us, would you?”

Molly has a bit of an odd look on her face, but Luna doesn’t seem to notice, instead gazing at the maze covering the Quidditch field as they enter the stadium, and Ginny resolves to question her mum later.

Ginny sits with her friends a row below her mum and Bill, who sits next to Ron and Hermione. Amos Diggory and his wife sit not far off, and he looks about ready to burst with pride. Gabrielle and two people Ginny assumes are her and Fleur’s parents sit in another part of the stands, surrounded by the Beauxbatons students.

The four champions stand in front of the entrance, surrounded by a small group of professors. Dumbledore is speaking with them, and then Ludo Bagman steps forward. His booming voice announces that Harry and Cedric will enter first, followed by Krum and finally Fleur.

A thrum of excitement and anticipation spreads through the crowd as a hush falls over them. Ginny sees Harry find them in the crowd and wave.

Then, a piercing whistle blows, and the boys make their way into the maze, the shadows beyond the entrance concealing them from sight almost immediately. A minute later, Krum enters, and a minute after that, Fleur walks in.

And then the waiting begins.

It isn’t quite as boring as the second task, though not nearly as engaging as the first. The crowd begins to buzz again as the time drags on, for lack of anything else to do, and Ginny and her friends join in the conversation as minutes creep by with no sign of anything within the maze.

A few bursts of fire go up from one side of the maze, which catches the attention of the audience, but then just as quickly as they appear the fire is gone, and only a thin trail of smoke is left to be blown away by the wind.

Ginny’s eyes lose focus a few times as she stares at the maze, and then her gaze catches on a glimmer of blue-white light.

“There!” She points, and the people around her follow the direction as the light grows brighter, before moving quickly down a path in the maze and fading.

“What do you suppose that was?” Colin asks, turning to look at Hermione as if expecting her to know something the rest don’t.

The girl looks unsure for a second, but then an idea comes to her. “It looked almost like a Patronus charm.”

Ron nods. “Harry’s gotten really good at that one. I bet that was him.”

“But then, wouldn’t that mean there are dementors in the maze?” Colin asks nervously.

“Dumbledore wouldn’t allow that, would he?” Ginny asks in the general direction of the two older students.

“No, of course not,” Hermione says, trying to sound confident. But a note of uncertainty betrays her, and their group falls into a worried silence as the people around them move on from the already forgotten light.

Then, an echoing scream pierces the air. It’s barely heard over the noise, but everyone hears it and turns to the maze, countless eyes scanning for any sign of movement. When nothing happens after a few minutes, the buzz returns.

“Who do you suppose that was?” Becca asks with a shiver.

“It sounded like Fleur,” Ginny responds darkly, remembering the girl’s cries from the second task.

They watch the maze with concern, looking for any sign that the girl is alright, but nothing comes. More fire shoots up from the same area, lasting a little longer this time before ending once more. Ginny glances around, scanning the excited or bored faces of the crowd near her, and her eyes land on Luna, sitting next to her, gazing at the maze with a dreamy expression.

Her scarf is rather loud, Ginny notices, and for lack of anything better to do, she decides to ask about it.

“It was a birthday gift from my father. It contains charms to help keep away wrackspurts. They are common at this time of year, so it’s best to be prepared.”

Ginny is just about to ask why, if wrackspurts are common during the summer, did her dad not put the charms on a necklace or hat instead, when a cry goes up in the crowd, and she and Luna turn to see a trail of red sparks flying into the air, hovering over a spot in the maze.

“What does that mean?” Luna’s voice is curious, and she doesn’t look at all concerned about the safety of the champions inside. Ginny isn’t sure if that’s due to a general tranquil mood, or perhaps a misunderstanding of how dangerous these tasks truly are.

“It means someone inside is in danger, true danger, and needs help.” Bill leans forward to answer Luna’s question, and then he shares a look with Ginny. He nods in the direction of Luna, who has gone back to watching the maze, and gives Ginny a thumbs up. She rolls her eyes, turning back to the maze, but she can feel a faint blush on her cheeks.

She avoids glancing at Luna again, instead watching the scene below and waiting. It appears the champions have moved too far into the maze to be seen anymore, as nothing happens for nearly the next hour. The most exciting thing that happens during that time is seeing Krum get carried out of the maze and up to Madam Pomfrey, who waits near the edge of the stands and instantly begins casting spells over his prone body. Ginny searches for Karkaroff, who usually would be rushing to check on his star pupil, but he is nowhere to be seen.

Much as they did when Harry took a long time to exit the lake during the second task, the crowd begins to worry. Most of the conversations held now are discussing the remaining three champions inside.

Another set of red sparks goes up at one point, and then Fleur is brought out of the maze, her shaking visible from the stands. Now the crowd is truly agitated, as only two champions are left. The Hogwarts students begin to celebrate, knowing that either way, their school has won the tournament, but a cold dread starts to creep through Ginny.

It makes plenty of sense for the final task to be more difficult than the other two, but Krum and Fleur are both capable wizards. No doubt Harry is as well, but any coincidence where he is concerned should be considered questionable at best.

And Ginny can’t help but wonder…

As she falls down a rabbit hole of speculation, a yell sounds from the lower part of the stands, and cheers ring out as shapes suddenly appear before the entrance to the maze, just where the champions had been earlier.

A cry goes up that it’s Harry and Cedric, both returned at the same time, with the Triwizard Cup, its gleam in the light visible even from where Ginny sits.

But the celebrations quickly die and are replaced by shouts of concern. Amos Diggory and his wife rise, and the man suddenly surges forward and down the steps. Other students begin rushing the exits too, some begin screaming, and a few voices rise above the din to deliver the awful news.

Cedric Diggory is dead.

Everything is a mess of confusion and fear. Molly and Bill get their group up and move to the front to begin pushing a way through the mess. Ginny links an arm with Luna on one side and Becca on the other, who links with Colin who links with Ron and Hermione, and together they make their way down the steps, jostled on every side by students trying to get down faster.

When they reach the bottom, Molly commands them to stay put before she and Bill rush off to find answers. Ginny huddles with her friends, watching the chaos around them, cringing away from the keening cry of Mr and Mrs Diggory as they reach their son’s dead body.

And then, as if carried on a breeze, Ginny hears a whisper traveling through the crowd. Her knees go weak, her vision blurs, her heart starting a frantic beat in her chest. Her lungs constrict and she hears, distantly in her mind, a cold, shrill laugh.

“No,” she whispers, her hands moving to cover her ears, though it does nothing. “No. No, no no no no.”

But she can’t escape the laugh echoing in her mind, and it plays alongside the whispers that continue through the crowd, until the screams around her rise again as the news spreads.

Lord Voldemort has returned.