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Meaning of One, Part One: Stone and Fire | ||||||
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Category: Alternate Universe Characters:Albus Dumbledore, Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Minerva McGonagall, Ron Weasley Genres: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama, General, Humor Warnings: Violence Story is Complete Rating: R Reviews: 1026 Summary: If two people are deliberately created to be together, how will the challenges in a world of magic and Dark Lords be dealt with? What would it mean for two people to truly become one? A re-imagination of first year. Hitcount: Story Total: 548273; Chapter Total: 32587 Awards: View Trophy Room Author's Notes: Thanks to Moshpit, Jonathan Avery, and Treecat, my superteam of beta goodness. |
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Sunday morning at the Burrow, Ginny woke when her mother shook her shoulder gently. “Ginny, dear, it’s almost time for breakfast. Can you get Harry up?” “Sure, Mum,” she yawned. “We’ll be down in a few minutes.” Is there some way you’d like to be woken up, Harry? Not really. I don’t like being shaken, though. That’s what the Dursleys always did. She was still lying curled up next to Harry’s hip, with one arm wrapped around his waist and her head on his chest. Sitting up, she pulled her hand out from under his pajama top and patted the center of his chest lightly. His eyes slowly drifted open. “Good morning, Harry,” Mrs. Weasley said. “Did you sleep well?” “Yes, ma’am, very well,” he replied. In fact, they had slept wonderfully. Instead of a night filled with horrible images, they remembered getting Mrs. Weasley’s permission to help each other and then nothing after Ginny first curled up next to Harry. “Wonderful,” Molly said with a strained smile. “Breakfast will be ready in just a few minutes.” Molly left the room and paused before going down the stairs. She glanced over her shoulder and looked directly at Ginny. “Oh, and Harry?” Harry looked up from his position on Ginny’s right, confused about why Mrs. Weasley was looking at Ginny if she wanted to talk to him. “Yes?” he asked. Mrs. Weasley turned slightly to face Harry, looking slightly relieved. “Is there anything in particular you like for breakfast?” Harry shook his head. “No, ma’am. Anything is fine.” Mrs. Weasley nodded briefly before descending the stairs. That was odd. I didn’t expect her to be so cheerful, Harry commented. She’ll pretend everything is normal for as long as she can, Ginny explained. Then it will all come back to her, and she’ll either accept it partially or reject it completely. But you’re right. She was acting a bit odd. What about your dad? Dad’s harder to figure out. He seemed more open to the idea last night, but he might hate it and is just letting it build up until he wants to say something. So we just wait? he asked. He had really hoped for a faster resolution. Yes, we wait. There’s nothing else we can do right now. She paused and then gently pushed him towards starting the day. You can shower first, Harry. Okay, he agreed. They walked together down to the third floor, where Harry entered the loo and Ginny went into her room. Once she was engrossed in setting out her clothes and repacking her knapsack, he enjoyed a quick shower before heading back to Ron’s room to get dressed while Ginny showered. He put his clothes back into his bag and then headed downstairs, carefully counting the steps along the way. He sat at the kitchen table and peered around the room, studying the collection of wizarding photographs scattered across the wall. There were dozens of pictures of the Weasley family and a few that were noticeably older. He spent some time studying a picture of Charlie Weasley. He was seated on a boulder overlooking a forested area where a large dragon was pacing. Although he knew that dragons existed, he had never seen even a picture of one. He decided that it might be interesting to see one in person some day. As he looked away from Charlie’s picture, a recent picture of Ginny waved cheerfully at him, and suddenly he caught a glimpse of the shower curtain upstairs. Harry dropped his eyes and counted the tiles on the kitchen floor, and the sight of the loo upstairs faded. Sorry, Ginny, he apologized quickly, hoping he would not lose his fragile focus. It’s okay, she replied. Sometimes I have trouble focusing, too, and your showers are shorter than mine. It takes forever to rinse the shampoo out of my hair. “Are you alright, Harry?” Mrs. Weasley asked. Startled, Harry glanced up at her. Mrs. Weasley was standing across the table from him and frowning slightly. “I’m fine, thanks,” he replied, then returned his gaze to the tiles at his feet. From the corner of his eye, he caught her looking at him thoughtfully for a moment before she returned to her cooking. A short while later, Ginny finished dressing and told Harry he could relax. He exhaled in relief and looked up to find Molly studying him with a concerned look. A moment later, Ginny entered the kitchen with her hair still wet from her shower. She sat down next to Harry and looked up at her mother, who was glancing from Harry to her daughter suspiciously. Ginny immediately knew what her mother must be thinking, and Harry became very nervous. Oh no, he said, his eyes widening. We knew she’d figure it out sooner or later. She paused. I wish it could have been later, though. “You were watching Ginny in the shower!” Mrs. Weasley shouted accusingly. “No, Mum, he wasn’t!” Ginny reassured her quickly. “He was looking at the tiles on the floor so he wouldn’t see what I was seeing. If we focus on something, we don’t have to share our vision. We’re careful to always distract ourselves when one of us is showering or changing.” They promised they wouldn’t shout, Harry scowled. I’m sorry, Harry, but that was only good for last night. Asking Mum not to shout is like asking a fish not to swim. If it gets out of hand again, I’ll stop her. I promise. Okay, Ginny, he agreed reluctantly. As long as they don’t start calling you names. “If you share memories, how does that help?” Arthur asked as he stepped into the kitchen. He had obviously heard some of the conversation. “Doesn’t one of you just see the memory later on?” “Arthur!” his wife said angrily. Unbidden, images came to the surface of Harry and Ginny’s consciousness. Harry groaned and buried his face in his hands. “Well, we hadn’t,” Ginny said as they both blushed furiously. “But since you just mentioned it, we did.” I know you want to apologize, Harry, but don’t. Neither one of us knew that was going to happen. Her mother was working up to a full rant. “Ginny, you must not think of things like that. It’s simply not proper!” Cross your fingers, she said silently to Harry. She faced her mother calmly. “Mum, I’m sorry. I know this is really bizarre to you. It’s strange for us, too, but this is the way we are now. We can’t change it, and we don’t want to. Can you accept us this way? Can you please not make this any harder than it already is?” she pleaded. To Harry’s surprise, Mr. Weasley took up their cause. “Molly, you know they’re not trying to do anything they shouldn’t. They’re in a very odd position, and they’re doing the best they can. Ginny’s the same girl she was last week, but now she’s brought a friend along. You said yourself that they behave like Fred and George sometimes. Try thinking of Harry as a black-haired twin for Ginny. That’s what . . . well, that helps me a bit.” Ginny beamed at her father. “Thanks, Dad. That’s just what it’s like.” “So long as they remain siblings,” her mother muttered. She was quiet for a few long moments, looking at Ginny’s hopeful face and the top of Harry’s head as he stared nervously at the floor. She sighed in apparent resignation and smiled weakly. “I can’t very well chuck you out, now can I, Ginny? I’ve put too much work into you for that. Just promise me that you’ll behave yourself.” “I will, Mum. We will. We promise,” Ginny stated firmly. Harry nodded. “Now, let’s have breakfast. I’m sure you two have some homework you should do after that,” Mrs. Weasley said, determined to return the conversation to more normal topics. What about last night? Harry asked Ginny. She’ll talk to us about it when she’s ready. Probably at lunch, she replied. The two friends spent the morning dutifully writing the essays Professor McGonagall had assigned them on Thursday. They had been asked to summarize the information from their textbook about the physical similarities between matchsticks and needles. Writing two different essays with the same facts was challenging, but they finally managed it. In the end, they wrote one essay together in Ginny’s handwriting. Then they wrote a whole new one in Harry’s handwriting with the same information and changed it enough to make it distinct from the first essay. As they worked, they joked with each other and laughed aloud with the energy of any pair of young students. Ginny tried to predict Professor McGonagall’s response to Harry’s writing “you’re” instead of “your” in his essay. Harry had fixed the error, but she found the situation amusing. She pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows haughtily. “Mr. Potter, if you are a matchstick, I have a candle that requires your attention. Otherwise, I suggest you work with your matchstick and avoid spontaneous combustion.” “Sounds more like Percy than McGonagall, I’d say,” Harry grinned. “Hey! There’s no reason to be insulting,” she protested. “It’s not my fault. I’m just telling you what I see.” “You’ll pay for that, Potter!” she cried and leapt towards him. She reached out to tickle him, but he knew what she was doing, and he jumped up from the floor to escape. Ginny was only a step behind his thoughts, so she abandoned her effort to tickle him and scrambled to her feet. Harry ran from the sitting room and into the kitchen where Ginny’s parents were sitting. They chased each other in circles around the kitchen table, laughing wildly, before darting back into the sitting room. Harry put the sofa between him and Ginny for protection, but she just transported herself to his side and tackled him to the ground. They landed together, but Ginny was ready. She bounced up to her knees and reached down to tickle him. He laughed and curled himself into a ball with his back to her, trying to avoid her wiggling fingers. “Say uncle!” Ginny demanded. Harry shook his head, laughing too hard to speak. “I won’t stop tickling you until you say uncle,” Ginny threatened, but Harry just shook his head in stubborn pleasure. “Fine, then. You’re in for it now.” Ginny redoubled her efforts, reaching across him to tickle him on both sides at once. He howled with laughter, and she found herself laughing, too, as she felt him being tickled. She tried to tickle and be tickled at the same time, but at last she gave in to the laughter. “Uncle! Uncle!” she cried as she pulled her hands away from Harry. They collapsed onto their backs side-by-side, laughing and catching their breath. I win, Harry declared. You can’t win. I was the one tickling you. But you said uncle, not me. That’s . . . that’s not fair! You should have thought of that before you decided to tickle me, he grinned. Returning to their original places on the floor, Harry and Ginny settled down and tried to finish their essays. It became hard for them to concentrate, however, when they heard Ginny’s parents’ voices coming from the next room. Ginny glanced into the kitchen to find her father and mother sitting at the table and occasionally watching them. Her mother sighed and turned to where her father sat reading the newspaper at the kitchen table. “Look at them, Arthur. Yesterday afternoon they were talking, but they never laughed and they hardly moved at all. Now they’re running around and behaving like the children always do at that age. And either way, most of what they say is completely silent.” Mr. Weasley lowered his paper to look at his wife carefully. “Surprising what a good night’s sleep will do, isn’t it?” Putting the paper down, Arthur turned and looked directly at his wife. “Molly, I know you don’t like what’s going on,” he conceded. “I don’t like it either. But they proved to us that they’re telling the truth, and we’re going to have to deal with it for now. If we find a way to change things in the future, we’ll think about it then.” Harry felt Ginny’s hope at her father’s words, but they were both still wary. They knew that her mum had not made a final decision. “I’m still not sure, Arthur. It’s . . . I just feel that . . . oh, bother. I can’t explain what it is, but I don’t like it.” There was silence except for the occasional scratch of quill on parchment for a few minutes. Ginny and Harry both were paying more attention to the conversation than to their homework now. “I understand, Molly,” Arthur said. “It feels like she’s growing up so quickly. In just a week, she’s gone off to Hogwarts and discovered some strange relationship to a genuine hero.” “It’s the nature of that relationship that scares me the most, Arthur,” she admitted. “I’m seriously considering letting my only daughter share a bed with a boy. I don’t know if I should yell at them or start planning a wedding.” Why do people keep talking about weddings? Are you planning to marry me someday, and I just haven’t noticed? Hmm, she pretended to consider it. Do you have a white horse? What? he asked, confused. He knew she was teasing him, but he could not determine how. Of course I don’t have a white horse. Then I’m afraid you’re not qualified to marry me. Sorry about that. She grinned, but then she became serious. Harry, I’m ten. Even Mum and Dad didn’t get married until they were finished with Hogwarts, and that’s forever from now. I don’t know why they’re so fussed. “You saw them last night, Molly,” her father answered. “As strange as everything is, she’s still a child, and she needs her parents. For that matter, he needs parents too, and those relatives of his will never qualify.” Ginny looked up in time to see her father give her mother a strange look. “I know, Arthur. It should be easy, but it’s not. He’s just not like the others.” “You’ll try anyway, Molly. You wouldn’t be yourself if you didn’t.” Ginny’s mother got up from the table and began wiping her counters with an old rag. Her father returned to his newspaper, and Ginny and Harry turned back to their essays. I don’t understand, Ginny. What others? We’ve always had our friends over in the summers, she explained. Charlie and Bill usually had two or three visitors each year, and Lee Jordan has been by to spend time with Fred and George. Even Luna stayed for a couple of weeks while her father was traveling. Whenever anyone is here, Mum treats them like they’re hers. But I’m different to her? he asked. Why am I always different? Well, none of the others have ever shared a bed with her daughter, have they? Give her time, Harry. She’ll come around. She pulled his attention back to their essays determinedly. Now, what are the properties of . . . By lunchtime, Harry and Ginny had finished their homework, and they joined Ginny’s parents in the kitchen for a lunch of sandwiches and fresh fruit. When everyone had eaten their fill, Mrs. Weasley made her announcement. “Ginny, your father and I will go back to Hogwarts with you this afternoon to speak with the Headmaster. We’ll let you sleep in Harry’s room, but we need to make some arrangements. “First, Percy needs to know what’s going on so he can keep an eye on you both. He’s a prefect, so it’s natural for him to check up on the first years.” Mrs. Weasley spoke matter-of-factly, clearly not prepared for any opposition. Harry and Ginny decided to take whatever they could get. That’s going to be awful. We’ll spend so long listening to Percy’s preaching that we won’t get any sleep anyway, Ginny predicted. “As soon as we can, we’ll get the whole family together and tell your other brothers. If you want to talk to Fred, George, and Ron earlier than that, it’s up to you. “Also, we’ll send you some new pajamas,” Mrs. Weasley continued. “You can wear your brother’s old ones for now, but it’s time you had something that suited you.” They’ll probably stick to my skin and stun anyone else who touches them. Don’t you wear nightgowns? Harry asked. Only because Mum forces me to, she explained. I always wanted to wear pajamas, but Mum wanted me in gowns because they’re more ‘ladylike.’ I used to steal Ron’s old pajamas and change into them after I went to bed. Mum would catch me in them and hide them from me. I’d find them, and we’d start all over again. It was almost a game. Why’s she getting you pajamas now, then? It wouldn’t be proper for you to see my ankles, Mr. Potter, she replied sarcastically. That’s why she’s so eager to give me those old pajamas I’ve been trying to wear. “Ginny, Harry,” Mrs. Weasley said sternly, “you should talk out loud when you’re with other people. It’s rude to have private conversations with people watching.” In other words, she doesn’t like not knowing what we’re saying. Harry grinned internally, careful to keep his expression private. We’ll have to be more careful, then. “Sorry, Mum,” Ginny apologized. "What should we do this afternoon before you two go back to Hogwarts?" Mrs. Weasley asked brightly, hoping for a more normal end to the weekend. "Would you like to visit the village?" Harry had an idea, and he voiced it before Ginny could object. "Mrs. Weasley, could we go to Diagon Alley? I'd like to get Ginny her own wand. The one she has doesn't work very well." Harry, they're not going to like that. Before her parents could react, Harry added, "We've been sharing my wand in class. Her marks would be awful if she had to use hers." That might actually work. “Harry, it’s very generous of you to let Ginny share your wand. I’m sorry you’ve had to do that. Is there something wrong with the wand we gave her?” Mrs. Weasley asked. "Ginny's welcome to borrow my wand any time she wants," Harry promised. "I don't mind at all. But it takes longer for us to practice spells when we have to trade back and forth. Her wand just doesn’t work very well for her." "I don't know . . ." Ginny's mother began, but she trailed off and looked to her husband. Mr. Weasley nodded. "Very well. We'll go to Ollivander's, and your father and I will buy you a wand, Ginny. It's very generous of you to offer to buy it for her, Harry, but it's not necessary." Harry was going to protest, but Ginny stopped him. Don't, Harry. This is important to them. Half an hour later, Harry and Ginny were standing beside the fireplace. Mrs. Weasley handed Harry a ceramic pot. Inside was a small quantity of glittering green powder. What’s this? It’s Floo powder, Ginny replied, remembering her previous trips through the Floo network. “Just firmly call out your destination, Harry,” Mrs. Weasley said. Harry nodded and took a pinch of the Floo powder. He walked to the fireplace and threw the glittering powder onto the flames. The fire turned green, and Harry stepped into the cool blaze. He attempted to shout “The Leaky Cauldron!”, but a bit of ash entered his throat, and he coughed out the last word. The flames swallowed him, and Harry was falling through a twisting tunnel of green flame. He could see fireplaces zooming past him on all sides. Panicked, he tried to get control of himself as Ginny shouted instructions in his head. Finally, he straightened his tumbling progress and shot out of a fireplace into a store filled with potion ingredients. He noticed the sign in the window and realized he was in the apothecary’s shop in Diagon Alley. Shaking his head, he stumbled to his feet and then promptly collapsed again as Ginny entered the Floo network, and the world spun in front of her eyes. A moment later, she was in the Leaky Cauldron. When she was standing still, Harry was able to concentrate on the hundreds of bottles of ingredients, and his stomach began to settle down. Just stay there, Harry. We’ll meet you in front of the shop. Harry looked up at the apothecary, who was eyeing him curiously. “I’m sorry, sir. I missed the grate at the Leaky Cauldron,” he explained. “Happens all the time,” the man said and returned to his work. Ginny explained what had happened to her mother when she appeared, and the two of them headed toward Diagon Alley. Mrs. Weasley greeted Tom, the barkeep, and led Ginny through the concealed entrance to Diagon Alley. Harry was waiting for them nearby. "Come along, now, children. We don't have a lot of time this afternoon," Mrs. Weasley ordered as Harry rejoined them. They walked briskly down the street. Ginny had visited Diagon Alley many times in her life, during all seasons. Harry, however, had only seen the shops when they were teeming with students preparing for a new term. Today, the street seemed much calmer and quieter, though there were still plenty of shoppers moving to and fro. Mr. Ollivander looked up as they entered. "Molly Prewitt. Didn't expect to see you again quite so soon. Have you kept your wand properly?" Without waiting for an answer, he looked at Harry. "Mr. Harry Potter. Back so soon? Not having any problems, I hope?" He paused expectantly. Apparently, he wanted an answer for this question. "No, no problems, sir." "Well then, that leaves you." He peered down at Ginny. "Ah, yes. The youngest Weasley, and a girl at last. I haven't seen one of you in almost two hundred years. What's your name, child?" "Ginny, sir." I've never liked him. He scared me when I was little, and I always waited outside the shop with Dad. I'm glad I'm not the only one. He gives me the willies, Harry agreed. "Well, Ginny Weasley, let's have a look at you." Mr. Ollivander tossed his tape measure in her direction. Ginny stood still and let it take various measurements as a quill scratched away on a nearby notepad. Before the measuring ended, the odd old man pulled a box from a nearby shelf and shoved it into Ginny's hands. "Give it a wave, then," he ordered. Ginny swished the wand forcefully, but it produced only one halfhearted pink spark. "No, no, that won't do." He took the wand away and replaced it with a different one. Ginny did not even manage a single spark. Six wands later, Ollivander muttered to himself, "No unicorn hairs, then. Usually a good bet for this sort." He moved to the other side of the shop and pulled several boxes off of the shelves. Ginny waved them one after another. Two produced brighter sparks than the first wand she had tried, but none seemed very enthusiastic in their performance. After an hour of swishing countless wands, Ginny's arm was tired. Ollivander produced another wand for her to try, and she lifted it half-heartedly. When she swung it downwards, it produced a shower of pink sparks that fell harmlessly to the floor. "Aha! Holly and dragon heartstring, eight inches, rather stiff. An unusual wand. Fascinating, fascinating," Ollivander enthused. "Still, the wand chooses the witch, and there you are." Ginny was not as excited. "It's the best of the lot, I suppose." "Best of the lot? That wand chose you, Miss. You'll not get any better than that." Silently, Harry handed Ginny his wand. She swung it gently and a fountain of bright red sparks sprayed across the shop. Ollivander stared at the wand in her hand. "Well now. Holly and phoenix feather, of course, eleven inches. Never seen something like that before." "Do you have any other holly and phoenix feather wands, sir?" Harry asked Mr. Ollivander. The ancient wizard shook his head. "No, no. Rarest of the cores, phoenix feather. Easier than getting heartstrings from a dragon, you'd think, but phoenixes are finicky birds. Haven't any feathers at all at the moment." "Well," he continued, "you'll take the dragon heartstring wand for now, then, and you'll not pay for it. Found the proper wand for every witch and wizard to enter this shop, and I'll not stop now. If I find a phoenix feather, I'll be in touch, and you can pay then." Mrs. Weasley protested, but Ollivander insisted on giving Ginny the wand. "Odd wand, been here for ages. Well-crafted, of course, but shorter and stiffer than most. Suits her better than anyone else I've seen. Take it, take it. Wouldn't want it to get bored." Err . . . wands don’t get bored, do they, Ginny? I don’t think so. He’s just barmy, she replied. Bemused, Harry and the two Weasleys left the shop after Ginny thanked the strange man. Ginny's mother turned to address her. "Now, Ginny, Mr. Ollivander has been very generous, and I want you to take good care of that wand. We'll give it back to him when he finds a phoenix feather for you." "Yes, Mum," she answered. Ginny was shocked at the idea of not taking proper care of any wand, much less one that had chosen her. It did not seem to produce the same results that Harry's wand did, but it was vastly superior to the wand she had inherited from her grandmother. She was suddenly very fond of her new wand. Mrs. Weasley took the two children to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor before they returned to the Burrow. Harry had chocolate peanut butter, and Ginny chose strawberry banana. The two flavors mixed wonderfully, they decided. By three o'clock, they were back at the Burrow. Harry and Ginny brought their knapsacks down to the kitchen, and Ginny returned her grandmother's wand to her mother. They spent the remainder of the afternoon pretending to be interested as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley exchanged stories from their first years at Hogwarts. The two adults clearly enjoyed trading bits and pieces of various tales they had told many times before, but it was hard for the children to follow. At four o'clock, all four of them held onto the frayed rope and were pulled back to Hogwarts. Harry and Ginny stumbled and nearly fell again, but her parents remembered to reach out and catch them. They smiled thankfully at the two adults and then turned to face Dumbledore where he sat at his desk. Albus Dumbledore stared at his guests, his eyebrows lost in his hairline and his jaw hanging slightly open. He blinked rapidly and his gaze bounced from Ginny to Molly and back. Ginny thought he seemed surprised that the two Weasleys were not glaring at each other. She could not help teasing him. “Good thing we don’t have flies at Hogwarts, Headmaster.” The old man’s mouth snapped shut and his gaze focused fully on the ten-year-old girl who was grinning at him. He chuckled softly, recovering his poise, and replied, “Quite right, Miss Weasley. I have never found a fly whose flavor I appreciated. I did once find a bean flavored like a fly, though I don’t care to recall the experience.” He cleared his throat and turned to the elder Weasleys. “Molly, Arthur, it’s nice to see you again. May I suppose that your presence indicates that you wish to speak with me?” Molly took a steadying breath and spoke firmly. “Albus, we’ve decided to allow Ginny to sleep in Harry’s room here at Hogwarts.” “I see,” the Headmaster replied cautiously. “Ginny shouldn’t have to see what they see at night, Albus. No one should have to remember that at all. You know very well what I’m talking about,” Mrs. Weasley said, glaring at the aged wizard. He sighed heavily. “Yes, Molly, I do.” The intimidating woman nodded and continued. “We need you to help us make appropriate arrangements. Would you summon Percy here, please?” “Certainly.” The Headmaster used the fireplace to call Professor McGonagall’s office. A few moments later, he returned to his chair. “Minerva and Mr. Weasley will join us presently.” A few minutes later, McGonagall entered with Ginny’s studious brother in tow. Percy looked stiff and proud as he walked in, but his face fell into an expression of confusion when he saw his parents, sister, and Harry. I bet he thought the Headmaster was going to give him a medal for something, Ginny guessed. He’s not going to like this, is he? Ginny sighed. No, he’s not. Percy decided on a course of action and straightened his shoulders again. “Hello, Mother, Father. I suppose that Ginevra and Harry have violated the rules of Hogwarts. I would be happy to assist in their punishment. That is my duty as a Prefect. Will you be taking Ginevra home with you?” Ginny glared at her brother. What an insufferable git! Molly headed off the developing confrontation between her two offspring. “Percy, Ginny and Harry have done nothing wrong. Ginny is doing very well at Hogwarts, and Harry seems like a, err, nice boy. We’re here to ask for your help in a family matter.” The young man’s expression softened only slightly. “Very well. What would you have me do?” “For now, Harry and Ginny appear to be joined in some way that we don’t understand,” Mrs. Weasley began. “Their connection has very unusual effects, and we don’t have time to explain all the details right now. What you need to know is that they share knowledge and memories. Harry remembers everything Ginny does, so he knows you and your brothers already. You should treat him like a . . . well, like an old friend of the family, I suppose.” Percy clearly did not believe what he had heard. “That’s impossible. This must be some sort of foolish prank.” Harry had heard that word far too often recently, and his temper flared at hearing it again. His face darkened and the temperature in the room rose a few degrees. Mr. Weasley recognized what was happening. “Percy,” he said firmly, “Harry and your sister are not foolish, and they are not playing a prank. You should apologize to them.” The young prefect’s lips tightened as his father spoke, and he turned to focus on the wall above his sister’s head. “Ginevra, Harry, I am sorry if you were upset by my . . . assumption.” Ginny knew that his apology was insincere, but she decided that it was the best they were going to get. “If you don’t believe Mum, ask Harry something. Ask him anything you think only I would know.” Percy sniffed and looked to his parents, who nodded encouragingly. He turned back to Harry and looked down his nose at the younger boy. “If you insist. Harry, what was the first spell Ginevra performed successfully?” The memory came to Harry as easily as any of the others. “When she was five, you taught her the scourgify spell to get the stains out of her clothes. She told you that was the first spell she’d ever cast because she didn’t want you to tell on her. Really, she already knew a charm that Fred and George showed her. It turned your underwear pink, and you blamed the twins.” He felt her nostalgia as he spoke. “Back then, you called her Ginny,” he added accusingly. He didn’t start with ‘Ginevra’ until his third year at Hogwarts, she remarked. I still think it’s a nice name, Ginny. You don’t say it the way he does. “Mr. Weasley,” Dumbledore addressed Percy, “I myself have seen satisfactory proof of everything you’ve been told. Will you trust my word that it is true?” Percy was caught between confidence in his own knowledge and showing confidence in the Headmaster. In the end, he knew he preferred to keep Dumbledore’s trust. “Yes, Professor. I will certainly accept your word in the matter.” He did not notice the angry look on his mother’s face or the sad sigh from his father. “Thank you, Mr. Weasley,” the Headmaster said graciously. Arthur addressed his son as Molly struggled to regain her calm. “Percy, one of the unusual effects of their connection is that they’re unable to sleep if they’re not touching each other. We’ve decided that Ginny will sleep in Harry’s dorm room here at Hogwarts.” Percy’s eyes widened and he inhaled sharply. “We don’t want the other students to know about this, because they won’t understand the situation,” Mr. Weasley continued, ignoring Percy’s incredulous expression. “Ginny is responsible for getting in and out of Harry’s room without being seen, and she can do it on her own. We want you to keep an eye on them. Make sure nobody in the boys’ dorm except your brother knows that she’s there, and make sure that Ginny’s only in the room to sleep. They can study or talk somewhere else.” Percy was completely floored. “You mean . . . you want her to sleep with him? You’d allow that? She’s going to be in his bed every night like some kind of courtesan?” Ginny felt Harry tense as his anger quickly approached rage. She was deeply offended, but she knew that this was a time to let someone else argue for her. Harry, no! Let Mum handle him. I think he’s jealous, but I’m not sure why. “Percival Ignatius Weasley!” Molly shouted. “You will not say such things about your sister! Do you understand me, young man?” Harry relaxed slightly when he saw that Ginny’s mother would defend her. Ignatius? he asked. I wouldn’t be so picky about names if I had one like ‘Ignatius’. You don’t know what your ‘J’ stands for. It could be Jehosephat. Percy stood and stared at his mother with his lips pursed. After a few moments, he nodded stiffly. Locking his gaze well above Ginny’s head again, he reluctantly said, “I apologize, Ginevra.” Harry put his hand next to Ginny’s face and waved. “She’s down here, Perce,” he said, knowing how much the nickname irritated the older boy. The fifteen-year-old closed his eyes and exhaled sharply. After a moment, he looked directly at Ginny. Harry thought he could see the plea in her brown eyes even without feeling it himself. “I’m sorry, Ginny,” Percy whispered. “Thanks, Percy,” she replied, hugging him quickly and lightly. “No one is more concerned for your sister than I am,” Mrs. Weasley said. “If I am allowing this to happen, you don’t need to worry about her.” Dumbledore shifted the conversation to somewhat safer ground. “Miss Weasley, you will need to cast a sticking charm on your own bed curtains before you leave each night, to keep your roommates from discovering your absence. Likewise, the two of you will need to cast a sticking charm on Mr. Potter’s curtains so that his roommates don’t know you’re both there. You might also consider a silencing charm to prevent the other boys from hearing you. “Mr. Weasley, do you know how to cancel those two spells?” Percy nodded, apparently glad for the chance to demonstrate his knowledge. “Excellent. You may check on your sister and Mr. Potter as needed. It would not be unusual for a responsible prefect to look in on the first years from time to time.” “Molly, Arthur, do you intend to inform your other sons of this situation?” he asked the elder Weasleys. “We’ll tell everyone as soon as we can get the family in one place, Albus,” Molly replied. “In the meantime, we’ve told Ginny she can talk to Fred, George, and Ron if she wants to.” “Very well. Mr. Potter, Miss Weasley, Mr. Weasley . . . please do not tell anyone outside the Weasley family about this situation. If you have concerns about one of your classmates or professors, talk to me or Professor McGonagall before approaching them. Do you understand?” The three students nodded. Ginny thought of something, and Harry brought it up. “Headmaster, we’d really appreciate it if you’d talk to us, too, before you decide to tell anyone else. It’s our life, and we feel like we should know about everyone who knows what’s going on.” Dumbledore looked seriously at Harry for a moment before responding. “Agreed, Mr. Potter. I will let you know before I tell anyone else about your situation.” “I’m sorry, sir,” Ginny said, “but that’s not exactly what Harry asked for.” “Ginny!” her mother said sharply. Percy looked terribly offended for some reason. Surprisingly, the Headmaster only chuckled. “She’s quite right, Molly. I’m afraid my habits control my words from time to time. Ginny, I agree to discuss it with you and Harry if I want to tell anyone else about your situation. Is that satisfactory?” “Yes. Thank you, sir,” Ginny said, nodding. Satisfied that everyone understood the importance of secrecy, though Percy still looked mutinous, Dumbledore began giving instructions. “Minerva, please take Mr. Potter and Miss Weasley to your classroom and teach them the sticking and silencing charms. I’m sure they will have no difficulty with either one. “Mr. Weasley, please return to Gryffindor Tower. If anyone asks about your absence, tell them you wished to speak to me about your duties as a Prefect. “Molly, Arthur, would you care to join me for a cup of tea before returning to your home?” he finished. “That would be lovely, Albus, thank you,” Mrs. Weasley replied. That means they want to talk about us when we’re not around, Ginny interpreted. Professor McGonagall, who had been standing at the back of the room and observing the conversation, collected the three students and led them out of the Headmaster’s office. When the stone gargoyle closed behind them, Percy left in the direction of Gryffindor Tower, and the Transfiguration professor escorted Harry and Ginny to her classroom. Closing the door behind them, Professor McGonagall stared at them with thin lips. “We will start with the sticking charm.” Half an hour later, Harry and Ginny could each perform the sticking charm. They also learned the finite incantatem spell to cancel the adhesive effect. When they started, McGonagall glanced disapprovingly at them every few moments, but by the time they mastered the second spell, she had regained her usual detached manner. Then Professor McGonagall moved on to the silencing charm. “I am not entirely pleased with the Headmaster’s decision to teach you the silencing charm,” she confessed. “It is relatively simple to cast, but it is normally not taught until fifth year because it is essentially an offensive spell. Cast on a witch or wizard, it prevents them from making any sound through their vocal chords. Clearly, this makes it very difficult for them to cast spells. I hope you can see why we postpone teaching it.” Harry did not understand, but Ginny had seen the spell used before. It would be really easy to hurt somebody if you took away their ability to cast spells at you, Harry. Non-verbal magic is hard for some people, and it’s hard to make it work for some spells. Harry nodded in response to both Ginny and the professor. “If you are going to allow someone else to cast the silencing charm on you, you should trust that person absolutely,” McGonagall continued. “Miss Weasley, do you understand that you will be unable to speak until Harry or someone else removes the charm?” “Yes, Professor,” Ginny answered confidently. “Just because I can’t speak out loud doesn’t mean I can’t talk to Harry. He’ll remove the spell if I want him to.” Are you sure, Ginny? Of course I’m sure. Do you really think you could ignore me if I really wanted you to do something? No. I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable, he replied. We’ll only use it if we really need it, Harry. It will keep people from hearing me laugh or cry or something. McGonagall was thinking along the same lines. “Very well, Miss Weasley. I caution you both to only use this spell if you feel that it is absolutely necessary. If you are silenced and you can not get the effect removed, for whatever reason, find me or the Headmaster immediately. Also, if you use it on anyone else, I will take points from both of you and you will be serving a detention. Is that perfectly clear?” Neither student felt brave enough to risk the wrath of their Head of House for a prank, so they nodded their understanding. For a moment, Professor McGonagall stared at Harry and Ginny as if she were judging them. Finally she nodded in satisfaction and said, “The incantation is silencio. The wand motion is a counter-clockwise half circle followed by a short, sharp horizontal slice to your right. You might picture the combination as a capitalized letter ‘J’ lying on its back.” Harry and Ginny practiced the incantation and wand movement until they could cast the spell on each other. Each time they succeeded, they promptly removed the spell with finite incantatem. After another half an hour, McGonagall decided that they were proficient enough to protect their sleeping arrangements. “Excellent work. Five points each to Gryffindor for learning these spells so carefully. Please do not make me regret teaching them to you.” “Thank you, Professor. We won’t,” Ginny replied for them both. “I believe it is time for dinner. Return your things to Gryffindor Tower, and then you may join your classmates. I suggest that you walk to your destinations whenever possible. There is no need to invite suspicion without cause,” the professor warned. The two students nodded, thanked McGonagall for teaching them, and left the classroom with their knapsacks. On their way up to the Tower, they found Neville Longbottom sitting on the floor in a corridor. “Alright, Neville?” Ginny wondered. “Oh, err, hello,” the round-faced boy replied hesitantly. “I’m alright, thanks. I was just, ahh, looking at this painting.” He pointed at the large wizarding painting on the opposite wall, which showed an open, empty field. Ginny knew that there were usually pixies in the field, but they were absent at the moment. He must be lost, she concluded. “It’s a nice painting, isn’t it?” she asked Neville. “Harry and I were going back to the Tower, and then we’re going to the Great Hall for dinner. Would you like to walk with us? If you’re finished looking at the field, of course.” Neville’s face brightened enormously. “Well, sure, I could walk with you, if you don’t mind. I could, err . . . I could always come back to look at the painting.” “We don’t mind, do we Harry?” Ginny smiled. Harry did not know much about the other boy, but he knew what Ginny thought was the right thing to do. “Nope. More company is always better,” he recited one of her mother’s sayings from her memory. Neville followed them back to the tower as the three students discussed their classes and professors. Ginny and Harry were unsurprised to learn that Neville enjoyed Herbology and was terrified of Potions. After dropping off their knapsacks and changing into their school robes, Harry and Ginny hurried down the stairs to the Great Hall with Neville. Ron was sitting with the other first year boys, and Hermione was sitting by herself a few seats down on the opposite side of the table. Ginny steered them to the sit next to the bushy-haired girl, which placed Ginny on Hermione’s left and Harry facing Ron at an angle. Neville, uncertain of his welcome, wandered away to sit by himself. Next time, we should invite him to sit with us, Ginny decided. Harry nodded his agreement as she turned to her brother. “Hi, Ron,” she said. “Mum and Dad say hello.” Ron only grunted around a mouthful of food as he listened to the other boys discuss Quidditch. Ginny turned to Hermione. “Hello, Hermione. How was your weekend?” “Fine, thank you. I had plenty of time to spend in the library. Did you enjoy your visit home?” “It was nice,” Ginny replied. “We spent a lot of time telling my parents about last week, but we also got to explore a bit, and we did our essays for Transfiguration.” “You finished the essay?” Hermione asked eagerly. At Ginny’s nod, she continued. “I did too. How did you choose to organize the differences and similarities? I initially wanted to divide them up by visible and non-visible properties, but that seemed too simplistic. Instead, I . . .” The two girls launched into a comparison of their essays. Hermione clearly knew more about the details of what matchsticks and needles were made of, but Ginny knew the material from the textbook well enough to understand most of what she said. Harry found that he understood the conversation better if he ignored Hermione. Instead, he focused on Ginny’s thoughts and memories as she discussed the subject. It was very difficult for him, but he managed it for a few minutes. Following along this way, he felt like he probably learned as much as Ginny did, and he was very surprised by his success. While the girls talked and Harry listened in his own way, he chose food from the platters for himself and Ginny. When both plates were full, Ginny picked up her fork and began eating without a break in her conversation with Hermione. Engrossed in the discussion, they both began eating, automatically choosing the same foods at the same time. Neither of them noticed the distracted glances Hermione began to throw their way as her brow furrowed in confusion. “How are you doing that?” she demanded, interrupting a long lecture on density which Ginny was barely following. “Err . . . doing what, Hermione?” Ginny replied, confused by the abrupt change of topic. “You and Harry are eating your food simultaneously. It’s like watching synchronized swimming.” Ginny tried to stall. “We are?” Are we? she asked Harry. I’m not sure, but I think so. We’ll have to be more careful. Ginny decided. Hermione doesn’t miss anything. “Yes, you are,” the other girl argued. “You’ve each eaten seven baby carrots and nine bites of ham, and you’ve had four drinks of pumpkin juice. You both wipe your mouths with your napkins after each drink, and you eat the carrots with your fingers instead of your forks. You haven’t looked at Harry at all, though.” See what I mean, Harry? She’s creepy. Nice, but creepy. Our eating like that is probably pretty creepy, too, from the outside, Ginny observed. That’s true, he admitted. What do we tell her, though? “Oh, it’s a trick we got from the twins,” Ginny said to Hermione in a burst of inspiration. “They used to do it to impress people, and we thought we’d give it a try. I eat slowly, and Harry just watches me and does whatever I do.” Gryffindor’s genius did not seem completely convinced. “Well, if it’s a trick, you’re doing it really well.” “Thanks,” Ginny replied. She and Harry spent the rest of the meal eating as normally as possible. They devised a system of alternating bites of different foods. It appeared that they were choosing their bites separately, but they never actually ate two different things at the same time. Hermione watched them carefully and looked more thoughtful than usual, but before she could make any further comments, the group sitting to Harry’s left launched into a loud discussion of Gryffindor’s Quidditch prospects for the coming year. “I went to the tryouts on Friday, and it was awful,” Ron complained. “The team got two good Chasers, I’d say, but they’re a third year and a second year. Captain Wood is only a fifth year, and the others are all in third year. It might be the youngest house team ever.” “What about the Seeker?” Seamus Finnegan asked. “I heard that nobody showed up to try out.” “Yeah, that’s the short of it,” Ron agreed. “The seventh year who was Seeker last year got beaten up so badly that nobody wants the position. He was Captain, too, and he never tried to get anybody interested in taking his place. It’s no wonder we lost so much while he was around.” “Where are we going to get a Seeker, then?” the Irish boy wondered. Ron shook his head sadly. “Fred and George said that Wood is going to try to find someone he can talk into playing. I’d do it myself if we were allowed to have our own brooms. I can’t imagine what we might end up with, but if we don’t have a Seeker, the team can’t play at all.” The other boys nodded solemnly at Ron’s dire announcement. That’s Ron for you, Ginny commented to Harry. Bring up Quidditch, and he’s like a completely different person. Maybe if they don’t find a Seeker, he could do it next year, he suggested. He’d be better than nothing, but he’s really not suited to seeking. He focuses too much on the Quaffle. They remembered hours of watching Quidditch games at the Burrow. The Weasley children played with a battered Quaffle, a broken statue charmed to be a Bludger, and a sluggish Snitch that Charlie had stolen in his third year. The boys had never let Ginny play with them, but she had used all three balls on the rare occasions when she got to fly in daylight. You’d be a better Seeker than Ron would. Maybe. I’ve never actually played Quidditch, though, and I can’t have a broom any more than he can. When they finished eating, Harry and Ginny stood up and went back to Gryffindor Tower with Hermione. Ron chose to stay with the other boys, who were now comparing Quidditch to Muggle football. “Don’t see why you spend so much time with girls anyway,” he whispered to Harry. “They never say anything interesting.” Shows what he knows, Harry commented as he left the hall. Hermione retrieved her Potions book from her room and claimed a chair with good light for reading. Harry and Ginny were finished with their homework and did not care to read ahead. They considered playing chess, but Ginny realized that they each would know what move the other was going to make before they made it. Instead, they settled on their usual couch and stared into the fire. Harry thought Quidditch sounded like great fun, so he and Ginny tried to remember everything she had seen and heard about the game. Several minutes passed before they noticed that they were holding hands on the sofa between them. Percy came in soon after they arrived, and they quickly released their grip on each other. He glared at them for a moment from across the room and then strode purposefully towards their sofa. He stopped close enough to tower over Harry and said, “Mr. Potter, I will be visiting the first year dormitory at ten o’clock sharp. I expect you to be there at that time.” He glanced at Ginny and then climbed the boys’ staircase towards his room. A moment later the portrait hole opened, and the first year boys stumbled into the common room in the midst of an intense argument. I don’t understand, Ginny. Why is he so different from the rest of your family? All he seems to care about is enforcing the rules and impressing the professors, He indicated the argument that was going on, and Ginny understood that Percy would have stopped the noisy debate. Ginny spoke slowly as she tried to express her understanding of her brother. Percy is . . . focused. What he wants more than anything is to be important. He hates that we’re poor, and he hates that Dad isn’t higher up in the Ministry. The only way for him to be important at Hogwarts is to be a Prefect, so he worked really hard to get his badge. Now he wants to be Head Boy, so he’s doing his Prefect duties as much as possible. That’s why he acts the way he does. Harry considered this for a moment. I’m sorry, Ginny. I know he’s your brother, but I just don’t like him. It’s okay, Harry, she said with a deep sigh. I love him, but I don’t really like him anymore either. Ron broke away from the argument with Dean Thomas about Muggle Football with a huff of indignation. “Wait’ll you see Quidditch! Then you’ll understand,” he snapped before walking over to Harry and Ginny and dropping into a chair near the fire. Harry remembered Ron’s conversation from dinner and had a question about the Gryffindor team. Ginny’s knowledge gave him the answer, but she suggested that he ask Ron anyway. “Hey, Ron, do you mind if I ask you something about Quidditch?” Ron sat up straighter and tried to look authoritative. “Sure, Harry. What d’you wanna know?” “Well, at dinner you said that the Gryffindor Seeker last year got beaten up a lot. How did that happen? Did he make someone on the other team mad?” the dark-haired boy asked. “No, not really. Seekers just attract a lot of attention on the pitch, because catching the Snitch is worth so many points,” Ron explained. “The Beaters aim Bludgers at the other team’s Seeker whenever they can, and sometimes Chasers and Beaters try to ram the Seeker so he doesn’t find the Snitch. All in all, he gets roughed up more than the other players.” “Why would anyone do it, then?” Harry asked, genuinely curious. “Charlie once told me that it was the best flying anyone would allow you to do without sending you to St. Mungo’s for your own safety.” Ron was clearly in awe of his second-oldest brother, and Harry realized why as Ginny showed him memories of Charlie flying at incredible speeds around the Burrow. They also recalled his stories of when he had been a seeker for Gryffindor. Harry thought that Charlie had, indeed, gotten knocked around a lot. Harry kept Ron talking about Quidditch for the next hour. He knew most of what the red-haired boy had to say, but Ron really did know a lot about Quidditch. Harry and Ginny learned a few things she had not known before. Before coming to Hogwarts, none of the kids at his school would talk to him, so he never got the chance to play sports or even talk about sports. He enjoyed talking with Ron and realized that Ginny’s brother might become a good friend with a little effort. Ginny was pleased. If you like talking about Quidditch, being Ron’s friend will be easy. Don’t we get our first flying lesson this week? Harry asked, excited. Yeah. She grinned wickedly. I can’t wait to see Ron’s face when I get on a broom. I hope I’m not awful at it. You’ll be fine, Harry, Ginny assured him. I’ll help you if you need it. At nine thirty, Ginny claimed that she was tired. She said goodnight to Harry, Ron, and Hermione, then went upstairs to change into the old pajamas she had added to her knapsack that morning. Fifteen minutes later, Harry yawned and also went upstairs to get some sleep. He quickly changed into his nightclothes and made sure his bedspread was flat against his mattress. Five minutes before ten, Ginny cast the sticking charm on her bed curtains and popped to the foot of Harry’s bed. He held his curtains still while she charmed them shut. We’ll have to deal with Percy before we can get comfortable, she reminded Harry. They lay down side by side, with as much space between them as they could manage. They clasped their hands between their bodies and waited. At precisely ten o’clock, they heard Percy enter the room. He removed the sticking charm, then parted the curtains just enough for him to stick his head through the gap. He saw their carefully innocent pose and frowned as if he wanted to criticize them but could not. “Make sure no one finds out you’re here,” he whispered quickly to Ginny. Then, more loudly, he said, “Good night, Mr. Potter.” He left the room, and Ginny re-sealed the curtains. Finally. Who’d have thought we’d have to pretend to relax before we could really relax? Ginny sat at the foot of the bed and eyed her pajamas critically. They had clearly once belonged to Ron. They were a dingy tan color with Quaffles, Bludgers, and tiny Golden Snitches scattered across the fabric. The legs and sleeves covered her feet and hands completely, and all of the edges were badly frayed. Using her new wand, she shortened the legs to fit her properly, removing the frayed material. She cut the arms off neatly so that they stopped just above her elbows. She ran her wand over the other edges, neatening them as much as possible without removing any fabric. That’s the best I can do, I guess. Normally Mum would be proud of me for using those charms, but I’m not sure she’d like it this time. She put her wand on their nightstand next to Harry’s and lay down next to him in what was becoming their usual position. The shorter sleeves of her pajama top allowed her forearm to rest against his stomach under his shirt, providing the contact they needed. I’m really glad this all worked out, Ginny. Me, too. Maybe we’ll be able to pay better attention in class this week. When are we going to tell Ron? Harry asked. Soon, but not yet, she replied. I need to get over Percy’s attitude before I’ll want to tell Ron. Harry was quiet for a moment before he asked, Maybe we could do something get him back for it? He pulled up the earlier memory of changing Percy’s underwear pink. Ginny began giggling under her breath. Why didn’t I think of that? You did, I just . . . I think I just reminded you. No, that was your idea, Harry. We’ll prank Perfect Prefect Percy when we see a chance. What’ll we do to him? Harry was still bothered by Percy’s comments, and the thought of some innocent retribution was soothing. I don’t know, but we’ll come up with something. We’ve got all year, if you don’t mind waiting to do something really good. That’s fine with me. Sleep well, Harry. You too, Ginevra. They fell asleep quickly, and slept deeply for the entire night. |
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