Friends, At Least? by werekitten



Summary: ** Honorable Mention (tie) in the When Ginny Met Harry Challenge **
Ginny Weasley is disappointed by her first view of Harry Potter, but quickly realizes that she is more than ready to forgive. She starts a pen-pal correspondence in hopes of becoming friends with Harry, and then perhaps more...
Rating: PG starstarstarstarhalf-star
Categories: Pre-OotP, When Ginny Met Harry Challenge (2007-1)
Characters: None
Genres: None
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: None
Published: 2007.02.01
Updated: 2007.02.28


Index

Chapter 1: Chapter 1: My Love?
Chapter 2: Chapter 2: Why Is She Interested?
Chapter 3: Chapter 3: Replys!
Chapter 4: Chapter 4: Starting to Spill
Chapter 5: Chapter 5: Telling the Truth
Chapter 6: Chapter 6: Pranks
Chapter 7: Chapter 7: A Helpful Letter, A Helpful Friend?
Chapter 8: Chapter 8: Massive Prank
Chapter 9: Chapter 9: Arrival of the Kitten
Chapter 10: Chapter 10: Adventures at Knight
Chapter 11: Chapter 11: The Philosopher's Stone
Chapter 12: Chapter 12: Friends, At Last


Chapter 1: Chapter 1: My Love?

Author's Notes: I'm planning on entering this in the challange, and this is my first-ever SIYE story. I'd love to get some reviews beforehand! *hint* *New* I've separated out all the bits of letter from the paragraphs, because, as everyone has said, it is much easier to read. Also fixed a few typos -- please tell me if you find any more! I'm still trying to find a good beta-reader, so if you're interested let me know! *Newer* Its been checked for spelling/grammer and edited in general by my fantastic new beta, Spencer.


Harry Potter. She had met Harry Potter. Harry James Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the legend, the hero – and she, Ginny, had met him; had watched him ask for directions.

It was . . . a letdown.

All her life she had cherished dreams of a strong, handsome youth with an aura of power. To find a scrawny, clumsy boy when she had expected, well, a champion – it was the biggest disappointment.

When Fred and George had bragged about how they had helped a celebrity load his luggage, she found it hard to be envious. After all, that little titch probably couldn’t lift a wand, let alone a trunk.

They had run up to her from the train. "Mum, Gin! Guess what!"

She was sure that the news would be about Lee Jordan's tarantula, or something equally uninteresting.

"Remember that little squirt who asked you for directions to the platform?"

Mrs. Weasley had sighed. "Yes, of course, he was so polite. I wonder who his parents are."

The twins had exchanged identical grins. "We know! He was Harry Potter! Scar and everything!"

Mrs. Weasley gave a little tsk, tsk of sympathy. "That explains more than it doesn't. Poor lad, to loose his parents so young –" Her manner changed as she overheard Fred and George discussing how Harry had defeated Voldemort. "I don't want any of you bugging him about that! He must have enough on his mind already, without a load of kids asking if he's sure he doesn't remember what You-Know-Who looks like."

Fred and George had rolled their eyes, given Mum a peck on each cheek and Ginny a clap on the back, and headed back to the train.

Ginny just hadn't believed it. There was no way that an underfed, albeit polite, boy was the Harry Potter. And though Ginny had once harbored dreams of fondness and devotion from Harry, she flung them to the winds.

Or so she thought.

Ginny closed her eyes that night thinking of a year hence when she would be sleeping in a grand four-poster bed at Hogwarts, hopefully in Gryffindor Tower with friendly girls surrounding her. She was ready to drop off to sleep when an image popped unbidden in front of her eyes: a face, staring out of the window as the Hogwarts Express pulled out of the station – a face with startling, almond-shaped green eyes and black hair that stuck up in the back – a face that looked lost; confused.

She sighed. Dreams died so hard, and Harry Potter was a dream that she invented years ago on her father’s knee, hearing stories of the miraculous boy who defeated the Dark Lord. Those green eyes, that adorable nose, the striking scar – no, she hadn’t forgotten Harry yet.

Harry Potter must be more than he seemed; that was the only explanation. But she would have to find out how . . .

---


Ginny was amazed. Ron, her pleasant, although rather stupid and insensitive brother, was best friends with her crush; with Harry. She sat at the dinner table in shock, watching while her mother read the latest news from her lucky brothers at Hogwarts. Percy was enjoying being a prefect. Fred and George assured Mr. and Mrs. Weasley that they were being innocent angels. Ron, well, Ron was having a grand time, hanging out with Harry Potter. They had had a run-in with a mountain troll, and had come out on top!

She didn't mind Harry now, of that she was sure. So brave, to tackle a troll, and so caring, to do it all for someone else, who happened to be a first year Gryffindor girl named Hermione. What a noble soul!

Could Harry have something in him that she didn't see from the outside? Of course, didn't everyone? And she had sensed something else . . . something was wrong with Harry's past. She knew that he had been raised by Muggles, but there was more to it than that. She had sensed some loneliness in the skinny boy who was lost at the train station. Why was it that there was no one to kiss him goodbye as he boarded the train? Something was certainly odd.

She would write to him; she had to. Her powerful sense of curiosity was driving her to learn about Harry. Ginny wasn't even sure that he knew she existed, and she couldn’t bear that.

Ginny hurried to her tiny, but moderately private room. She took out a piece of special pink parchment from a stationary kit that had been a present from her brother Bill on her last birthday. Uncorking her favorite purple ink, she dipped her quill in the dark liquid.

Dear Harry, she wrote.

You may not remember me, but I am Ginny Weasley, little sister to Ron. I met you at platform nine and three-quarters and I heard about your adventure with the troll. All this has only confirmed what I have though since I was little . . . you are a hero.

She re-read what she had written. She pictured a cozy common room somewhere at Hogwarts, and Errol the owl tapping on the window. Harry would be diligently reading a book, running his fingers through that thick, black hair. Ron would be sitting next to him, looking bored, as usual. Both would look up at the owl’s tap, and Harry would put aside his book and rush to the window. He’d open it to admit Errol and untie Ginny’s pretty pink letter. She pictured the look of shock on his face and then . . . well, she didn’t quite know. He’d lean over and share it with Ron, and she knew what her brother’s reaction would be. Laughter. And then Harry would laugh, as good friends laugh together, and he’d never take her seriously again.

Knowing the result, she simply couldn’t send this letter.

Looking back at her last sentence, she realized that her words didn't portray her feelings at all. Anyone who read the letter would think that she was the sort to hero-worship the star of the day. That was so not Ginny Weasley.

Thinking it over, Ginny decided to start small: just a friendly, “I'm-Ginny-who-are-you” letter. She could do it, she knew. She’d always had an intuitive sense of other’s feelings, so she was sure that she and Harry would become friends. And then . . . hmm. Ginny smiled.

This time with normal ink and plain paper, Ginny started a new letter.

Dear Harry, she began again.

I’m Ginny Weasley, Ron’s little sister. I met you at the train station, and I’ve heard all about you from Ron. I think it’s just amazing how you defeated the Dark Lord, but I’m sure that you’re sick of people talking about that. No, you just seem like a nice guy, and I want to get to know you a little better...

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Chapter 2: Chapter 2: Why Is She Interested?

Author's Notes: Newest chapter, I've added more diolauge. Reviews please! I've also changed the spaceing and typos on this chapter, and all the others. *New* Also newly, edited, and so are all the others, so I'm going to stop saying it.


It was breakfast time at Hogwarts. The boy with the scar that still drew whispers, even after nearly three months of school, looked up from his letter.

He passed it to the red-haired, freckled boy sitting next to him who had been trying to read over his shoulder.

The bushy haired girl on his other side looked up from a sheaf of notes. “Harry, what did the letter say?”

The freckled boy snorted. “It's my baby sis, Ginny. She, erm, wants to ‘get to know’ Harry. I reckon she’s always been sweet on you.”

Harry frowned, confused. “But the letter seems genuinely nice. And she’s practically the only person who hasn’t bugged my about my scar . . .”

Hermione smiled. “Well, it’s not like this is a surprise, is it? Harry, you must realize that you’re bound to have tons of admirers just by the virtue of being famous! But Ron, you can’t assume that your sister is going to fall into that category. She’s what, 9, 10 years old?”

Ron shrugged. “True. Just an idea.”

Harry sighed. “I guess I’d better reply. After all, what harm can it do?”

Later that day in the common room, Harry looked up from a particularly troubling essay for Professor Snape. He sighed and stretched. “I think I’ll take a break. Ron, are you up for a game of exploding snap?” Ron, in the chair next to him, had fallen asleep.

Harry sighed again and started searching though his bag for notes on sleeping draughts. He came across Ginny’s letter from that morning, and remembered that he was going to reply.

He took out a new sheet of parchment and began, Dear Ginny. Hermione looked up from an enormous book and frowned.

“Harry, that doesn’t look like homework.”

“No, it’s my reply to Ginny.”

Her expression brightened. “Oh, good! I was hoping you’d write back. She seems like a sweet, honest girl.”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, but mostly I just wanted a study break. No, that’s just a joke!” he hurried to add at the look on Hermione’s face. But that wasn't entirely true. He wasn't exactly looking forward to corresponding with a little girl . . .

He continued the letter.

I got your letter this morning, and I have to admit that it surprised me. However, I’m sure that it will be fun to have a correspondent outside of Hogwarts.

Harry nibbled the edge of his quill. A little white lie never hurt.

About me: My favorite colour is green, I love roast potatoes, and I have an owl named Hedwig, who I assume you’ve met if you are reading this letter. I love Quidditch, and I just made the Gryffindor Team as the youngest seeker in a century!

Harry paused and considered how much to tell this almost unknown girl. He supposed that something about the Dursleys couldn’t hurt.

As you may know, I only learned of the wizarding world when I received my Hogwarts letter. I was raised by my aunt and uncle, at Dumbledore’s command. I love Hogwarts, and I can’t wait to meet you in person when you start next year.

What else could he say? He remembered some school lessons on friendly letter format, and realized that he should probably ask the girl about herself.

So now about you! I know that you have quite a few brothers. How does it feel to have so many siblings? I can't imagine having a family . . .

Harry broke off. He couldn't tell her how he longed for a loving family like the Weasleys. He hurriedly crossed out the sentence and changed it to say

Being the only girl must be really hard.

Harry yawned and decided to end the letter. It was getting late, and he really should be working on Snape’s essay. He pondered the conclusion of the letter. Certainly Love or Yours truly wouldn’t work. He decided on Sincerely, signed his name, and headed up to the owlery and Hedwig.

---


The next morning, he was woken up when Ron chucked a pillow in his general direction.

"Oy! Harry! You up yet?"

Harry reached for his glasses, blinking away his sleepiness. "Now I am."

"I thought we'd get Hermione and have another go at the library before breakfast."

Now wide awake, Harry instantly agreed. He, Ron, and Hermione had been spending all of their free time searching through the endless collection of books in the Hogwarts library. They had approached Hagrid about what Fluffy, the three-headed dog, was guarding and he had let the name "Nicholas Flamel" slip. Ever since then, the threesome had been almost frantically trying to find the identity of Flamel.

Harry rolled out of bed and got dressed quickly. He remembered the letter that he had sent the night before. "Ron, I sent a reply to your sister."

Ron rolled his eyes. "I'm telling you, mate, you're wasting your time! She's just a little girl who thinks she's in love!"

"Yeah, but I think it’s really rude to ignore a letter. I'm not exactly enjoying owling her, but it’s only polite."

Ron, who never bothered with manners, rolled his eyes again.

---


Hermione had different thoughts on the matter, as Harry had known she would. She set a brisk pace as they left Gryffindor Tower and headed to the library, and proceeded to scold Ron.

"Ron! How can you be so insensitive? Ginny is your sister! And I don't think that she really does fancy Harry. Look at the tone behind the letter – purely inquisitorial if you ask me. In Deciphering Written Moods and Tones, by Janet Farley, the characteristics of an introductory love letter include obvious exaggerations of the qualities of both the writer and the . . ." She broke off quickly as Ron reached for his wand.

Ron turned to Harry. "Honestly," he said, exasperated, "does she ever shut up?" He grinned to show that he was joking as the trio entered the Hogwarts library.

Avoiding the librarian, Madame Pince – they didn't want her to become suspicious of three first years who were nearly always in the library – Hermione led the way to the biography section.

Harry found it hard to concentrate on the large book in his lap, Wonderful Wizards of the Age. His thoughts kept drifting back to the small red-headed girl at the train station, tugging at her mother’s hand. She had seemed shy when he was around – in fact, he couldn't remember her saying anything at all. She had to be Ginny Weasley, but why would so quiet a girl send an owl to a near-stranger?

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Chapter 3: Chapter 3: Replys!

Author's Notes: Newest chapter! I'm not sure if Ginny's feelings are getting through quite the way I want them to, so let me know if you have any suggestions for how to portray them more clearly (hint hint - review please!)


Ginny glanced out the window for what must have been the hundredth time. All morning she had been nervously hoping for a reply from Harry. Stop fussing, she chided herself. He probably has homework or something. Why would someone like him bother with writing to you?

But she couldn’t help it. Thoughts of her missive circled her mind. What if Errol had collapsed? That wasn’t unheard of. What if it had rained at Hogwarts and the ink blurred? What if . . .

She shook her head to clear it. Stop it! The reply will come when it comes and not a moment sooner!

She glanced out the window again, and her heart skipped a beat. Against the brilliant blue of the afternoon sky, she spied a white speck. Could it be an owl?

She rushed down to the kitchen and hurried to open a window. Yes, it was an owl! It was going down in a dive, headed right for the window!

Ginny ducked just in time to avoid a collision with the sleek white owl that had just soared through the open window. It made a smooth landing on the kitchen table. Thank Merlin that Mum was out in Diagon Alley!

When the owl stuck out its leg, she quickly untied the scroll that it clutched. She held out an arm for the owl to perch on, which it accepted. With the letter tightly clasped in one hand and the owl on the other, she hurried up to her room to read.

---


Harry Potter had shocked Ginny once again. His letter had sounded like he almost really cared about her! She had half expected a rude, “None of your beeswax” type of letter from such a celebrity.

She was forced to once again revise her opinion of the famous Harry Potter. Here was someone who surely must think about the feelings and thoughts of everyone, from the lowliest house elf to the Minister of Magic himself. Maybe she was exaggerating a little, but Harry was truly a considerate person.

Ginny began to feel that some of her previous, almost worshipful feelings about Harry Potter were beginning to return. She certainly wouldn’t scorn Harry if she saw him again in the train station.

But what about her original goal – to find out about Harry’s past? She hadn’t abandoned that in the least, and now she had something solid. He had been raised with Muggles per Dumbledore’s orders, but he hadn’t known of the wizarding world. That was strange. Wouldn’t Albus Dumbledore need to warn any Muggle family who cared for a baby wizard of the . . . unusual incidents that often occurred as a result of a young witch’s or wizard’s uncontrollable powers? And if the Muggle family knew of the wizarding world, shouldn’t Harry? But from what Ginny had heard, Dumbledore could sometimes be very obscure, and he could have reasons unbeknownst to a ten-year-old girl.

She would respond to Harry’s letter tonight. And she could start building up an image of herself in his mind, couldn’t she? She would get him to think of her as a friend, at least . . .

She took out a fresh piece of parchment, a quill, and some bottle-green ink. He had said that his favorite colour was green.

Dear Harry, she wrote, then paused. What could she say? The truth about her feelings? No, this correspondence relied on mild interest on both their parts, nothing more. But some truth couldn’t hurt.

I was delighted to receive your reply, and thanks for responding so promptly!

What else could she write about? Oh, his Quidditch skills! She loved playing Quidditch, even though her brothers discouraged her from taking an interest in the sport. And Harry was the youngest Seeker in a century! That was surely worth some notice. She scribbled nearly a paragraph about how it was grand that they both loved to fly, then paused. Perhaps now was the time to answer his question. She started a new paragraph, and wrote,

I actually sometimes enjoy having so many brothers – they can be fun to tease! I’ve invented a Bat-Bogey Hex to use – I don’t have a wand yet, but I can pretty much control that spell mentally. Fred and George are always a laugh to trick, because it happens so rarely. You should have seen their faces when I Bat Bogey’ed them the first time! But my two older brothers, Bill and Charlie, are really nice to me whenever I see them. Mum is just a normal, fussy, mum, and Dad is great even though he has a bit too strong of a liking for Muggle artifacts.

Now she needed to work on her goal about Harry’s past, but she couldn’t bug him about his long-ago fight with Voldemort. She suspected that would annoy him or, in his mind, put her in the normal fan category. She recalled an article that she had read in the Quibbler, and dipped her quill back in the inkpot.

Is it true that you had a pet Nundu when you were little? I thought that they were incredibly dangerous. Did you know that it takes 100 wizards to subdue one? My brother Charlie would love to lean how you lived with one, if you really did.

If Harry had once owned a Nundu, then perhaps he really had been in contact with the wizarding community. What else could she inquire about? Maybe he knew why he had lived with Muggles. But she would have to ask carefully.

I was wondering why you were raised with Muggles instead of a wizarding family. I had heard –

She paused, quill poised. What could she invent to be a rumor about Harry Potter?

I had heard that Dumbledore wanted you to avoid getting a swollen head with fame before you turned ten. Is that true?

Of course it wasn’t, but it was a plausible excuse to inquire about his past. One more question, and then she would call it quits – she had used nearly an entire scroll of parchment, and she wasn’t sure how much old Errol could carry. Now was the time, if any, to ask a strong, daring question about his past; about what had put the shadow behind his eyes and why he was all alone at the train station.

I’ve also heard that the Muggles that you live with are cruel to you. I find it hard to imagine why, but it is a fairly common rumor in the wizarding community.

That was total lie, but she consoled herself saying that it was all for a good cause.

Ginny rolled up the scroll and looked around her room. It was late afternoon by now – writing the letter had taken longer than she expected. The white owl – Hedwig, she supposed – was gone. She went to the kitchen to find Errol. Tying the letter to his leg, she gave him a lecture about how important this was and how he couldn’t lose it. She doubted that he would understand, but it made her feel better.

Ginny realized that she had left the window open. Glad that her mother hadn’t noticed, she released Errol into the sky and watched as his winged form faded into the distance.

Back to index


Chapter 4: Chapter 4: Starting to Spill

Author's Notes: Another new chapter, hope you like it! As always, please review!


Harry wasn’t bothered when he heard the morning rush of owls swarm into the Great Hall behind him, at least not until he saw Ron’s eyes widen over the goblet of pumpkin juice that he had been steadily chugging. Harry turned around to see Errol once more circling the Hall, searching for someone.

Ron put down his goblet with a satisfied belch, causing Hermione to make a face. “Errol’s here again! I hope it’s for me this time!” Ron said, and not without reason. Mrs. Weasley’s packages usually included a generous portion of sweets.

A tired and disheveled Errol made a crash landing in the general direction of Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Ron checked the name on the outside of the scroll and, face unreadable, passed it across the table to Harry.

“Sorry, mate,” Harry said as he accepted the scroll. “But I wonder who from your family could be writing to me? It couldn’t be Ginny again, could it?”

Harry unrolled the parchment and checked the signature at the end. “Blimey! It is Ginny!”

Ron gave him an incredulous look. “Are you kidding me? Again? What could my sister have to say to you?”

Hermione, sitting next to Harry, started to read the letter over his shoulder. “You see, Harry? Your prompt response did pay off. She sounds really grateful!”

Ron snorted. “Why should Harry care about my little titch of a sister? Why should anyone, for that matter?”

Hermione frowned at him. “Ron, you prat! I hope that’s a joke. Sometimes it’s hard to tell, with you . . .”

Harry skimmed the letter, looking up when he came to the part about the Nundu. “Hermione, have you ever heard of a Nundu?”

She paled a little. “Ooh, those are nasty! They’re extremely vicious leopard-like beasts from Africa. Its breath spreads terrible diseases, and it’s incredibly hard to suppress one. I read all about them in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. Why?”

“Ginny mentions that she heard I had one as a pet. Obviously pure rubbish.”

Ron sniggered. “I remember that one! It was in an old edition of the Quibbler.”

“Oh! Then of course it was pure rubbish! The Quibbler never publishes anything worth reading,” Hermione scoffed.

Harry nodded and continued reading. He stopped when he read the ‘rumour’ about the Dursleys being cruel. “Ron,” he said slowly, “could you tell me what you’ve heard about the Dursleys?”

“Not much, aside from what you’ve told me. They seem like gits. Why?”

Harry scowled. “They why would Ginny say that it was a ‘common rumour’ that they are cruel to me?”

Ron shrugged. “No clue.”

Harry frowned, thinking. Could Ginny know about his past? He had tried to keep the Dursleys secret from everyone, except Ron and Hermione.

There was no way that he could cover up his life at the Dursleys, not if the girl had guessed. It was just too much a part of who he was to fake it. But it was extremely aggravating to have his private background discovered by a ten-year-old.

Harry briefly considered just ignoring Ginny Weasley, pretending that she had never owled him in the first place. But he knew that he couldn’t do that, not to a little girl – he couldn’t live knowing that he had caused distress to his friend’s sister.

Harry found it hard to pay attention in his classes that day. Professor McGonagall had even offered to send him to the hospital wing. After that, he had tried to appear less preoccupied with Ginny.

That evening Harry once again tried to push the small red-headed girl from his mind so he could concentrate on an essay for Professor Flitwick, but he just found himself unable to focus. How could Ginny have known about the Dursleys? Was it just a lucky guess? No, it couldn’t be – no innocent ten-year-old would guess that a boy was being mistreated.

Harry scribbled a few more sentences on his essay and passed it on to Hermione for correction. She took it with a small smile and began to make improvements.

He stared moodily into the fire, Ron dozing in the chair next to him. Harry knew that he couldn’t face telling the truth about the Dursleys – not yet. He would just bide his time and think.

---


Harry managed to wait for an entire week before he could stand it no longer. By then it was almost Christmas, and Harry realized how rude it was to wait so long before answering a letter.

So that night when Ron and Hermione went to the library to search a bit more for Nicholas Flamel, Harry stayed behind. He once more pulled out a fresh piece of parchment, a newly-trimmed quill, and a bottle of ink. He pulled the most recent letter from Ginny out of his bag. By now it was crumpled and a bit worn from many re-readings.

Harry dipped his quill in the ink, wrote Dear Ginny, and paused, quill poised. He pondered what to say next. He wouldn’t mention the Dursleys yet . . . hmm. Harry added a short introductory paragraph, just for manners’ sake, and paused again. He stopped to think about what else there was to say. He supposed he could settle the other rumours, outrageous as they seemed. He started to write again, and realized that the ink had gone dry. Frowning, he trimmed the tip of his quill and re-dipped it in the ink.

Ginny, I never had a Nundu as a pet. I’d never even heard of them until I got your letter. And I have absolutely no clue as to why Dumbledore put me with the Muggles.

Harry supposed he could put it off no longer. He would have to tell Ginny about the Dursleys, and hope that she didn’t change her opinion of him. He had decided in the past week that he didn’t really mind the letters from Ginny – they were almost fun to get, just as a break from his monotonous schoolwork. Harry sighed and turned his attention back to the letter.

Ginny, about the Muggles I was raised with: You’re right; they aren’t exactly nice to me. They are the Dursleys – my aunt, uncle, and spoiled brat cousin, Dudley. Terrible name, isn’t it?

Harry had decided to try and make light of the situation with small jokes. After all, he may not enjoy living with the Dursleys, but he didn’t want to sound like he was complaining. He realized that Ginny’s opinion mattered to him, and he didn’t want to sound like a prat.

Anyway, they don’t treat me like a member of their family; they are opposed to anything that they classify as funny, which means anything magical. Aunt Petunia hates her sister (my mother), but I don’t mind, really. At least they’ve given me a home for all of my life!

Harry decided that it was his turn to grill Ginny for some information. After all, it seemed like he had been doing most of the telling. What could he ask? He decided to go for a laugh.

I've told you tons about me, I think I should have a chance to learn anything I want about you! What is your most embarrassing moment?

Harry looked up from his letter as Ron and Hermione tramped back into the common room, each with an armload of books.

“Madame Pince chased us out,” said Ron, plunking his stack down on a chair.

Hermione sat down next to Harry, gently resting her pile of books on a table. “So, we decided to take these up here so that we can continue looking for Flamel.”

Harry looked down at the letter in front of him. “Ron, d’you think Ginny would know about Nicholas Flamel?”

Ron shrugged. “No, how could she? We haven’t found anything, and we have a whole library at our disposal.”

It was Harry’s turn to shrug. “Still, anything is worth a go. We’re getting kind of desperate!”

He quickly added a paragraph at the end of his letter to Ginny, inquiring about Nicholas Flamel. He then signed and sealed it, and headed up to the owlery to find Hedwig.

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Chapter 5: Chapter 5: Telling the Truth

Author's Notes: This is the chapter that I think most of you have been waiting for, or at least the first part. Once again, please please please review, and I really appreciate comments with constructive critisism. Just wanted to note, this is now longer than my major science report, which I personally find funny and a little pathetic...


Ginny was frantic with worry, impatience, anger, and a whole bunch of other emotions all bottled up inside her. It all boiled down to one basic question: Why?

Why had she been waiting for over a week for Harry’s reply? Why had Harry taken interest in their correspondence? Why did she care so much about what was happening to Harry? And why had she even written to him in the first place?!?

Ginny sighed and tried to sort out her questions. Some were easy: she had written to Harry in order to find out what had put the slightly haunted look in his eyes; what was wrong with his past. She was fairly sure that he was writing to her just from politeness and thoughtfulness, though she hoped that someday they would develop a relationship.

But Ginny couldn’t help wondering about her feelings for Harry. She told herself that her curiosity was just growing with each letter, and her respect for someone so gracious. But at the same time . . . hmm.

And where the heck was Harry’s letter? She couldn’t stand all this waiting!

Ginny turned and checked out the window, for what must have been the millionth time, into the star-specked night sky. She started to turn back around, but stopped and did a double-take. Was one of the stars moving?

She squinted, trying to make out a single speck of white against the black sky. It was definitely not a star, and she could have sworn that it was getting bigger. She hastily opened the window, hoping that the white spot was what she thought it was.

Yes! She could make it out now: Hedwig the snowy owl, heading towards the Burrow! Ginny grinned, bouncing on the balls of her feet in anticipation.

She stepped out of the way as the magnificent owl swept into the room. She couldn’t help a little sigh of envy. Hedwig made Errol, with his crash landings and late deliveries, look like a flying chicken.

Ginny could barely contain her excitement as she untied the scroll and saw that it was for her. She politely asked Hedwig to stay with Errol in the kitchen, then swiftly scurried up the stairs to her small room.

Ginny plopped down on her bed, lit an extra-glow candle, and opened the letter. She began to read . . .

---


Ginny sat in frozen in shock for quite a while after reading Harry’s letter. She was roused from her reverie only when her father came up to say hello after returning very late from work.

“Hey, princess!” Arthur Weasley said as he entered the room and sat down on her bed.

Ginny looked up, the dazed look leaving her eyes. “Hey Dad. How was work?”

Her father grinned. “Not so bad! I had to work really late, but I was investigating a case of a Muggle rodeo that was charmed to do nothing but make obscene, bodily noises instead of play music.”

Ginny also grinned, much the same grin as her father’s. “Dad, I think you mean a radio?”

Mr. Weasley shrugged and nodded. “Yeah, that’s it. They truly are amazing! I love looking at the objects that use eckeltrickisey! Turned out we had to confiscate the rodeo, and since it was going to be trashed, I decided to take a little souvenir.” He fished around in the pocket of his robes and triumphantly pulled out a plug. “For my collection!”

Ginny couldn’t help laughing at her father’s obsession with anything Muggle-related. “Dad, sometimes I think you’re plain crazy!” She was joking, and he knew it.

He smiled as he bent over to kiss the top of her forehead. “I know. I’d be worried if I wasn’t crazy.” He stood up to leave. “Princess, remember to pack your bags. We’re leaving for Egypt tomorrow to visit Bill!”

Ginny gave a little hop of excitement as she rose from her bed. With her worry over Harry’s letter, she had completely forgotten about the trip to Egypt.

As her father left, Ginny hurriedly packed everything that she would need for their week-long trip to visit her older brother, Bill. She grinned, thinking of her mom’s probable reaction when she saw Bill’s new earring. He had sent the owl containing that news to Ginny alone.

Owl. Hedwig. Harry Potter. Was Hedwig still waiting with Errol in the kitchen? No, probably not, or else her mother would have questioned her. But Harry’s letter, and the disturbing news it contained . . .

Ginny would have never, in a million years, guessed that Harry was being mistreated at his home. She could read between the lines of Harry’s casual words and jokes. While she understood that they were meant to protect her from the reality, she also knew that they were covering up a much darker truth about Harry’s life. Not being treated as family wasn’t so bad in comparison with some things – things that she was almost positive that Harry had experienced.

Ginny deeply respected Harry’s wish to make light of the situation, but all the same, if Harry was being abused, someone needed to do something! That someone could be her, but she needed the actual truth.

She quickly scrawled a reply to Harry, ignoring the rest of his letter. It read,

Harry,
Tell me everything. Everything.
— Ginny


---


When Harry woke up the next morning, he was shocked by Ginny’s letter.

He needed to talk to someone about the Dursleys, about what he could tell this little girl who was much too clever for her own good. But there was no one – no parental figure in his life whom he could trust. And Ron certainly wasn’t an option – Ron wasn’t serious or understanding enough, for all that he was one of Harry’s best friends.

But his other best friend, Hermione, would be just the person to talk to. She was great at helping people with problems like his – she wasn’t just school-smart, she was smart about feelings, too.

His mind made up, Harry made his way down from his dormitory to the nearly-empty common room – it was Christmas break, and he, Ron, and Hermione were among the few students still at Hogwarts.

“Hermione, can I talk to you about something?” Harry asked as he saw that Ron and the other stay-behinds were in their dormitories enjoying their presents. He could guess by the book on her lap that Hermione had only left her dormitory to read by the light of the fire.

Hermione looked up from her book and smiled warmly at him. “Of course, Harry, anytime. It’s about Ginny, isn’t it?”

Harry looked at her in shock. “Yeah, but . . . I mean, erm, how did you know?” he stammered.

She grinned at him. “Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? All week you were preoccupied with something, and I kept noticing that letter in your hand.”

He had to return her grin. Hermione was just too clever, and he told her as much.

“But anyway,” Harry continued. “I do have a serious issue to discuss with you. Ginny has been asking me a lot of questions about the Dursleys, and I don’t know how much to tell her. I’ve told you that I don’t like the Dursleys; that they’re really mean to me, right?” He saw her nod, so he took a deep breath and continued.

“Well, that’s not the half of it. I’m not family to them, I’m a servant. No, less than a servant – I’m not paid. And what servant starts work as soon as he can walk? I was making beds and doing laundry at the age of five. But if I messed up, if I burnt the toast or mixed the colors with the whites, I got a beating. Uncle Vernon was a bit too fond of his cane. Did you see my Christmas present from the Dursleys this year? A tissue – a used one, by the looks of it. So you can see why I like it here so much. My home is a hell.”

Harry finished with a grim expression and stared into the fire. He was scared to look up and see Hermione’s reaction.

He was startled when he felt a pair of soft, warm arms envelope him in a hug. Harry was also surprised to find that there were hot tears running down his face.

He looked up into Hermione’s face and saw that it was full of sympathy. “Oh, Harry, I had no idea! How terrible, to live that way.”

Harry nodded and started to lean into Hermione for comfort. Then, all of a sudden, he realized that she was a girl, and he was a boy! What was he doing?!

He tried to gently disentangle himself from her arms. When he was free, he looked back over at Hermione. Although her eyes still held compassion, her manner was brisk and businesslike once more. “So, what was it about Ginny?”

Harry sighed. “Well, first she took a random guess, I think, that the Dursleys weren’t treating me rightly. I wrote back saying that she was right, but I tried to hide the truth by using jokes and casual phrases.”

Hermione shook her head. “Harry, that was exactly the wrong thing to do. Chances are that your little jokes weren’t as clever as you thought. They just told Ginny that you were hiding something. So then what happened?”

“I got a letter from her today, and it just said, ‘Tell me everything.’ So what should I do? Tell her?”

Hermione gave a mysterious little smile, and Harry had no clue what she meant by it. “Of course you tell her! And you simply must apologize for ever trying to deceive her in the first place. Don’t you know how to treat your girl?”

Harry yelped, shocked. “What?! There’s nothing like that between us! She’s made it clear that her letters are out of curiosity only! And I’ve only seen her once!”

But all the same, he had to wonder. Ginny had proved herself to be dedicated, caring, and kind. No, Harry told himself firmly. Get those thoughts out of your head! She’s not even really your friend, let alone – But he refused to let himself finish that thought.

He sighed again. “So, you really think I should spill?”

Hermione nodded. “Of course you should! Absolutely everything, just like you told me.”

Harry nodded and started to head back up the stairs. Halfway up, he turned. “Oh, and Hermione? Thanks – really.”

She had already started reading again. She didn’t look up, but said, “Anytime, Harry, truly.”

Harry went back up to his dormitory and began to write.

Back to index


Chapter 6: Chapter 6: Pranks

Author's Notes: Sorry that this took longer than usual, I realized how much homework I'd procrastinated on while churning out a chapter a day.
Thanks to everyone who commented saying that Ginny and Harry seem too old, I know you were trying to help, but trust me on this one. I'm thirteen, and if I can write about their thoughts, then they can think them. Also, Ginny and Harry are exceptionally bright 11 and 10 year olds, and, in Harry's case, wouldn't a boy who had been mistreated for so long be a little old for his age?

On another note, I've realized that I'm in desparate need of a beta, despite spell-check. If you are at all interested, please contact me! **NEW** Argh! I totally forgot the most important part of this chapter! I've added it in now.


Later that day, Ron and Harry headed out for the Quidditch pitch. Prior to Halloween, Harry had received an ultra-modern Nimbus Two Thousand. Ron had, of course, fallen in love with it and Harry had promised him a go on it.

They both kicked off from the ground, Ron riding the Nimbus and Harry riding a school Cleansweep. Harry had managed to secure a Quaffle, and they tossed it back and forth.

Harry was feeling wonderfully free as he zoomed through the clear blue sky and the wind swept through his hair. He was flying, he was free of the Dursleys, free of Flamel, free of Ginny.

Harry entered a steep dive and called to Ron. “Time to switch brooms!”

Ron also dived towards the grassy ground of the pitch. “Wow!” he said enthusiastically. “That broom is wicked!”

Harry grinned. “Yeah, I know! It responds so well to your touch, and the balance is incredible!”

Ron handed the Nimbus back to Harry. “Wish I could be on the Gryffindor team too.”

Harry was always unsure about what to say to comments like this. “Erm, don’t worry, you can try out next year or something. You’d make a great Chaser!”

They pushed off from the ground again, and Harry couldn’t help marveling in the superiority of his broom. He tried to throw the Quaffle halfway across the pitch to Ron, but failed by a long shot. He nudged his broom up to full speed, and dived for the ball. He grasped it when it had fallen to within mere feet of the ground.

Ron cheered as Harry rose back up, Quaffle safely in hand. “Nice catch!” Harry grinned in reply.

“One time Charlie made a save like that. We were playing in our back yard. Ginny just went crazy – she’s obsessed with Charlie.” The grin dropped off of Harry’s face. Ginny.

Ron continued, heedless of Harry’s discomfort. “I think Charlie’s her favorite brother, or something. Gin and I never really saw him play Quidditch much because we weren’t at Hogwarts with him, so she didn’t know how good he is. ”

Harry decided to ask Ron about his little sister, since he had the chance. “So, uh, does Ginny play with you often?”

Ron shrugged. “Often enough, but we try to discourage her. She’s so young. “

Harry could barely suppress a grin. Ron was just a year older than Ginny. “I’ve heard about some pretty terrible tricks she’s played on you.”

Ron grimaced. “Yeah, it was terrible the first time she tried her Bat-Bogey Hex on me. These huge, bat-things just came pouring out of nowhere! They were all over, and guess what? Turns out I’m allergic to bats!” He sighed. “So then I broke out in hives. There were rashes all over, even on my –” Ron broke off and turned crimson right up to the roots of his flaming hair.

Harry laughed. “She sounds . . . entertaining.”

Ron snorted. “That’s one way to put it.”

---


Ginny wasn’t enjoying Egypt very much – she was too busy calling herself ten kinds of idiot. What had possessed her to presume that famous Harry Potter would spill his troubles to her? Why had she been so rude and so unthinking?

Ginny heard her mum calling. It was time to see yet another pyramid. Ginny was getting a bit bored of musty old tombs, but she couldn’t pretend that she didn’t enjoy watching Bill decipher ancient runes, using their contents to break spells and open vaults and chambers that had been sealed for centuries. She loved watching Bill do spells – spells that did powerful magic, not just cooking and cleaning. She couldn’t wait to get her wand!

But Ginny was too preoccupied with Harry to enjoy their eighth pyramid visit. Had he gotten her letter yet? It was Christmas Eve there in Egypt, though the chances of a white Christmas were zilch. She should send another letter – an apologetic letter to Harry.

Lost in thought, she nearly tripped down an ancient set of stairs in the pyramid. Bill caught her just in time. “Watch out, Gin. It can be dangerous down here . . .”

She nodded and tried to push Harry from her mind.

---


Back at Bill’s apartment – it was crowded with her, Mum, Dad, and Bill, but manageable – Ginny was glad to see Percy’s owl, Hermes, perched on a chair. He was bearing Christmas presents from her brothers at Hogwarts, but his presence also meant that she could send Harry another letter without waiting for Errol to return.

As soon as the parcels had been placed under the Christmas tree, Ginny offered Hermes a perch on her arm. She carried him to the sofa where she would be sleeping and respectfully asked him to wait while she wrote a letter. She went to Bill’s desk and borrowed a piece of parchment, ink, and a quill.

Dear Harry, she wrote.

I’m sorry for my earlier letter. I was shocked by what your letter seemed to suggest about your life with the Dursleys – not just mild discontentment, but real torture. I think I sort of lost my head. After all, why should you inform me of all your secrets? If you want, you can just forget that I ever sent that letter, and read this instead.

Ginny nibbled the end of the quill. Now she supposed that she should just pretend that Harry was a normal boy, not mistreated at his . . . home, for lack of a better word. She dug his last letter out of her suitcase – she took all of his letters everywhere with her. Ignoring the incriminating paragraph, she looked at the contents of the letter that she could respond to.

I wasn’t very surprised to learn that you never owned a Nundu – some of the stories in the Quibbler can get pretty outrageous.

Ginny couldn’t bring herself to mention Harry’s Muggle family at all, not even Dumbledore’s reason for sending Harry to live with them. She decided to tell him about her trip to Egypt – it was pretty much the only interesting thing she had dome recently.

After writing a few lines about Egypt, Ginny looked back at his question, “What was your most embarrassing moment?” She blushed, just thinking about it. She could not tell Harry about that!

It happened last year, when she was nine. At that time she had harbored an enormous crush on Harry Potter even though she had never met him.

Ginny had been in her room, writing love poems to Harry. Of course she would never send them, but it was still a romantic pastime.

She had perfected her skills at drawing girly hearts, and was busy sketching a border for one of her favourite poems. Suddenly, the door burst open, and she fell backwards from her chair with a shriek, upsetting her ink bottle in the process. A dark purple splotch spread over the corner of her poem.

Such an intrusion into her room could mean only one thing.

“Fred! George! What are you doing here?!”

They grinned. “Surprise, little sis! Just thought we’d check up on our favourite sister.”

She snorted. “You mean your only sister. What’s the real reason?” She had a nasty feeling that there might be a prank involved – the twins loved to get revenge on her whenever she used the Bat-Bogey Hex. She had performed it on them just last week, and they hadn’t done anything – yet.

George gave her an innocent smile and stepped to the side, out of her view. She turned all her attention onto him, even though it left Fred out of her sight.

“There is no reason, just wanted to say ‘hi,’” said George. “Is that a crime?”

Ginny gave him a suspicious look, then turned quickly to Fred, hoping to catch him by surprise. Was it her imagination, or was he a bit closer to her desk than before? He, too, grinned at her. “Yeah, is that a crime?”

She shook her head, still wary. They left the room, and Ginny walked over to her desk. As far as she could tell, nothing had changed. Noticing her poem, she decided that the ink splotch had ruined the artwork. It was legible, but she decided to throw it out anyway – she had the poem memorized, so she could always make another copy. She tossed the poem in the waste paper bin.

That week, it had been Fred and George’s turn to take out the rubbish. They had seemed a bit too eager to empty her bin, although she hadn’t really given it a second thought.

But she thought about it the next morning when their purpose had become clear. It was breakfast, always a raucous event with six boys at the table. But even their noise stopped short when a loud bang came from backyard. Everyone froze for a second, then ran out to see what the commotion was.

On the grounds lay the shriveled remains of a red envelope, still smoldering in the grass. A squeaky falsetto voice, magnified for a hundred times its normal volume, had begun to sing.

Oh, glorious, magnificent Harry Potter,
His green eyes are clear, unlike murky water.
His hair is so black, blacker than darkest night,
He saved us all when Dark Lord he did fight.
But his most noble soul tops all this combined,
Such a kind, loving spirit you never will find.
I love him, I do, my hero, my love.
There’s no one that’s like him on Earth or above.


There had been a shocked silence, until the squeaky voice added, “By Ginevra M. Weasley.” Then the entire family had burst out laughing – Ron and Charlie fell to the ground, howling with mirth. Ginny was mortified. Her poem, her private poem, had been taken from her rubbish bin and made into a Howler! The whole family was laughing at her love poem.

Except for Mrs. Weasley.

“Ginevra Molly Weasley! Did you write that poem?”

There was nothing to do but lie. “No, of course not, Mum! Why would I do a thing like that?” Ginny tried to put just a touch of shocked outrage in her voice to compliment the sweet innocence. “It was all Fred and George, I promise! It’s just another one of their horrid tricks!” And she stomped back in the house, shooting the twins an if-looks-could-kill glance.

Once she was inside, Ginny had peeked out the window in time to see her mum turn her fury to Fred and George. Even so, Ginny knew that this was one prank she could never forget.

But she wanted to be honest with Harry in her letters – she wanted to get him to trust her. What could she do?

Lie. She couldn’t help it – there was no way that she was sharing that particular memory with Harry. Maybe some time in the future . . . far in the future.

Ginny wrote a brief paragraph involving a different trick of Fred and George’s involving Canary Cream Puffs, then pondered what else to write. She supposed it was only fair that Harry tell her his most embarrassing moment, though she didn’t like pressing him for information just now. Still, she added that question to the bottom of the page.

Ginny looked at Harry's final question, about Nicholas Flamel. The name sounded familiar, but she couldn’t think of where she'd heard it before.

Pondering, she grabbed a Chocolate Frog from the pile she'd received for Christmas. Ginny had taken to collecting cards for Ron's deck, so she instinctively checked the wizard on the card. Dumbledore. Ron had six of him, no use in sending him another.

As she placed the card on her bedside table, one word caught her attention. Flamel. Eagerly, she read the description on the card. Dumbledore had worked with Flamel! Now she could tell Harry! Maybe this would make up for the abysmal behavior in her earlier letter.

She scribbled down a paragraph at the end of her letter, explaining about the Chocolate Frog card, then signed and sealed the letter. She tied up the scroll, then attached the card for good measure.

Ginny stood and walked over to Hermes, who was dozing gently on the back of the sofa. She stroked him on the head to wake him up, then tied the letter to his leg and sent the owl on his way. She couldn’t help comparing the drab, brown owl to Hedwig’s glorious white plumage.

Ginny sighed. One innocent question about Harry’s past had caused more problems than she could have ever guessed. But she had solved the mystery of her past . . . or at least started to. No, she told herself firmly. You gave up on that! You promised yourself that you’re not going to keep bugging Harry Potter about the Muggles!

Ginny knew that her promise would be very hard to keep.

Back to index


Chapter 7: Chapter 7: A Helpful Letter, A Helpful Friend?

Author's Notes: Here's the next chapter, and I actually have people to thank for this one!
Thanks to Spencer, my wonderful new beta, who managed to review all 8 chapters in such a short period of time, and to Erik, for unofficially pre-beta-ing my first chapters.
Thanks also to everyone who had reviewed in the past, I'll try to be better about responding. And finally, thanks to whoever nominated me for the DSTA, although I'm not sure how my story is a romance. :D. That makes me feel so good.
All the other chapters are edited, so feel free to re-read them! :D Also, if you didn't already see, I forgot pretty much the most important part of the last chapter the first time that I posted it, so you may want to read that.


Ginny swooned with pleasure when Hedwig brought Harry’s reply to her first letter. She may not have really swooned, but she told herself that she did; it sounded poetic and, honestly, a bit romantic.

Ginny eagerly sprinted up to her room when she received the letter, having realized that there was no way that Hermes had already reached Hogwarts bearing her second note.

It was two days after Christmas, but the Weasleys had already returned to Ottery St. Catchpole. Ginny flopped down on her bed to read, glad that it was her own bed and not Bill’s transfigured sofa.

Her excitement grew as she read the first few lines. Harry Potter cared enough to answer her question, her inexcusably rude question! She held in her hand the key to Harry’s past, to the shadow behind his eyes, to his lonely look as he had boarded the train with no one to kiss him goodbye.

Ginny continued to read the letter fervently, but her enthusiasm slowed as she got farther into the letter, deeper into the horrors of Harry’s past. Who could do that to a little boy? To beat a defenseless child for doing chores incorrectly? Ginny had thought she had it bad when her mother lectured her or scowled at a job done wrong, but at least Ginny came out of those encounters whole!

Ginny was filled with a new determination to save Harry. Maybe she was being extreme, but she didn’t care! Those Muggles needed to be taught a lesson.

Ginny smiled a cruel, calculating smile that did not fit a girl of her years. The Dursleys must get what they deserved, and she knew just whom to ask.

---


Three days after Christmas, as the morning post came in at breakfast, Percy scanned the nearly empty Gryffindor table for troublemakers. His eye caught something very different. His owl, Hermes, was perched on Harry Potter’s goblet. Percy frowned, wondering why Hermes could be near Potter. Then he saw that Harry was untying a scroll from Hermes’ leg.

Freed of his burden, Hermes left Harry and flapped over to Percy. The owl hooted impatiently for attention, and Percy got an irritated peck in the arm when he continued to stare at Harry.

“Sorry, Hermes,” he said quickly as the owl prepared to peck again. He offered the bird some toast while he wondered why Hermes had a letter for Harry.

---


Harry couldn’t believe it. He had told his secret, his past, to a little girl all for nothing! He had to admit that he hadn’t minded telling when he’d thought that he needed to make up for lying to Ginny. Even if it wasn’t a lie, it was still a half-truth, which was just as bad, he told himself firmly.

But now, Ginny was apologizing to him and saying that he could keep his secret! That changed the situation completely. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Ginny, but he’d only told her of the Dursleys for a stupid, noble reason: never tell a lie.

Harry sighed. Ginny could be so – he searched for the right word – infuriating. Yes, that was it, infuriating. A little girl who could apparently see right through him, who asked just the right questions to get under his skin.

But at the same time, Harry had to admit that this whole pen-pal idea wasn’t as bad as he had feared. Although the Dursleys were a tender topic with Harry, some of Ginny’s notes were funny. He would have to ask Fred and George about the Canary Cream Puffs. And Ginny liked to fly! Hadn’t she also said that she could cast the Bat-Bogey Hex wandless? That was no small feat! Ginny was amazing, and Harry realized that she was becoming his friend.

As soon as he recognized the friendship, Harry pushed it aside. Why would Ginny Weasley want to become friends with him? After all, she’d probably only owled Harry because she was bored, or because he was famous.

But Ginny had also proved to be smart, imparting to him valuable information regarding Nicolas Flamel. Harry was stunned that she had seen the answer first, even though it had been staring him in the face. Merlin’s beard, he slept with Dumbledore’s card next to his bed! All those nights when he had stayed up late wondering about Flamel and what Fluffy was guarding, why hadn’t he realized that he had the solution right next to him?

Harry sighed. He should go tell Ron and Hermione about Flamel, not ponder a girl whom he barely knew and who lived so far away.

Grabbing Dumbledore’s Chocolate Frog card, Harry headed down to the common room where Ron and Hermione were finishing up the last of their holiday homework. The other students wouldn’t be returning for four days, but the threesome had decided to finish their homework early so that they could enjoy the final days of the winter holiday.

“Hey, guess what?” Harry said, pretending that he couldn’t care less about Ginny.

They looked up. “What?” Ron asked.

Hermione looked at him. “Are you going to tell us why you’ve been so quiet since you opened Ginny’s latest letter?”

Harry looked at her in surprise, then sighed. He kept forgetting that Hermione was clever and insightful.

“Well, it’s just that I told her about the Dursleys, but this letter says that I needn’t have!” Several days ago, Harry had decided that if he could tell Ron’s little sister about the Dursleys, then he could tell Ron himself. “Ginny thinks it was really rude of her to ask in the first place.” Which it was, Harry thought to himself, then immediately regretted it. Harry hadn’t liked Ginny’s last letter, but he supposed that he had set himself up for it.

“But there’s more,” Harry continued. “She knows about Flamel!”

Hermione stood straight up, not caring that a pile of previously well-organized notes fell from her lap into a clumsy heap. “Ooh, Harry! That’s wonderful! How did she learn?” Hermione was less upset by the mystery of Flamel’s identity that she was by her inability to locate Flamel in the school library.

For an answer, Harry held up the Chocolate Frog card. Ron’s eyes widened. “Blimey, Harry! I’d never have thought to look there, but she’s right!”

Hermione gave an exasperated sigh. “Would someone please explain what’s going on here?” Because of her dentist heritage, Hermione rarely ate Chocolate Frogs.

Harry read the card aloud. “Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the Dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon’s blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel.”

Hermione gasped and ran up the stairs to her dormitory.

Ron and Harry exchanged confused glances, but before they could say anything, she was back, carrying a large book.

Ron whistled when he saw it. “Hermione! What could possess you to read that?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “I checked it out ages ago for a bit of light reading. No, don’t say anything!” she added, seeing Ron’s incredulous look. “It has more information on Flamel!” She hurriedly started flipping through the pages.

“Here we are!” she said when she had apparently found the right one. She skimmed the page. “Yes, I thought so! He’s the only known maker of the Sorcerer’s Stone.”

Ron and Harry were confused again, so Hermione explained all of the stone’s special properties. When she was through, the trio decided that Snape was definitely after the stone, and that they would do anything to stop him.

---


Ginny had gotten into the habit of using other people’s owls. Errol was so unreliable that he had not returned from Hogwarts, even though Hedwig had come bearing Harry’s letter. So when she began to plot and realized that she needed an owl, she chose Hedwig because the owl was not only dependable, but gorgeous as well.

The Dursleys had harmed Harry, and Ginny had no intention of letting them get off free. But she didn’t even have a wand yet, so Ginny knew that she needed some help. An idea was forming in her mind. It would be the most daring thing she had ever attempted, if she managed to pull it off. And that was a pretty big “if.”

Ginny got out a fresh scroll of parchment, a quill, and some ink.

Dear Fred and George, . . .

Back to index


Chapter 8: Chapter 8: Massive Prank

Author's Notes: Here's the next chapter, I just love posting them, so I couldn't bring myself to wait a full day between posting Chapter 7 and Chapter 8.
Thanks to my beta, Spencer, and to my kitten, Minerva, for inspiring me (and Ginny)
I just love getting reviews! *hint* please! *hint*


Ginny was impatient. Impatient for the twins to respond to her letter, impatient to know if her plan would work, impatient for her revenge to begin.

She knew that she needed to punish the Dursleys. She was shocked and a bit appalled that the entire wizarding world had let their hero, famous Harry Potter, fend for himself for eleven years. No one had thought to check to make sure that he was fine, that he was treated right.

Well, Ginny would set that right. She didn’t even think of asking an adult to help her. She had to be the one to avenge Harry.

And she would. If she had to wait until she was seventeen and able to use magic outside of school, she would. But Ginny was not a patient person, not when it came to helping others.

There were quicker ways for a girl with her creativity to punish the Dursleys.

---


Usually the darker corners of the Gryffindor common room were unoccupied, and almost never occupied by Fred and George Weasley, who loved to be the center of attention. But tonight, that was different. Having received a strange letter from their sister just that morning, the twins decided on some privacy to discuss it.

The letter worried them. Fred and George weren’t in to the whole “she’s our baby sister, she can’t grow up too fast” attitude, but only because Ginny had a prankster’s mind and they couldn’t wait to put it to use at Hogwarts. But now Gin was asking for some pretty dangerous help in the letter, and the twins weren’t sure how far they wanted their little sister to go.

Still, the twins had to admire Ginny’s imagination. Her prank involved a kitten, of all things! But her kitten was no ordinary sweet ball of fuzz – it was a monster. And that was what scared the twins.

Ginny wanted an avenging kitten. This outwardly charming beast would be the perfect cat until someone was hurt. Then it would become a fiend, and ferociously bite or scratch whomever had been violent.

Ordinarily, Fred and George would object to such a request from their sister. After all, such a kitten could, no, would hurt someone. But Ginny’s letter had contained a thinly veiled threat:

I know that this isn’t the sort of thing that you two usually do, but just think of it as a favor for all these years of keeping quiet about that time Dad’s hand on the clock was jinxed to point to ‘Mortal Peril’ . . .

The twins had thought it could be amusing to watch their mother freak out, but they hadn’t realized just how deep their mother’s fear for her family went. That prank fell into the “not the slightest bit funny” category.

It was plain that Ginny intended to tattle on the twins to Mum if they did not agree to her plot. And if there was one thing that Fred and George were scared of, it was Molly Weasley in a rage.

George turned to his twin. “It sounds like this is all for a good cause! Like, something decent.”

Fred nodded in agreement. “Yeah, but we’re supposed to be pranksters! No moral fiber whatsoever, everything in the name of a laugh, and all that.”

Looking over the letter again, Fred shook his head in disbelief. “Blimey, mate, can we even do what she’s asking?”

“We better,” muttered George darkly, “or she’ll make sure we pay.”

“Yeah, but a spell that specific has got to be at least sixth year!”

George shrugged. “So? With enough research, we can do it.”

They both made a face. Research! Ginny was the master of torture, along with Professor McGonagall.

The twins sighed and headed off to the library.

---


The kitten was finished. The twins had worked almost non-stop for a week – unheard of! One of their many mottos was, “If the preparation is worse than the results, don’t do it.” Exams fell into that category, along with making a complex kitten for their sister to use for a cause that she wouldn’t even write about.

But Fred and George couldn’t risk Mum’s wrath.

Having performed the final incantation, the twins stepped back to admire their work.

“Well, there it is,” said George, walking in a slow circle around the glowing kitten.

Fred frowned, and waved his wand. The kitten stopped glowing. “Yeah. It couldn’t be glowing though. I know it’s just a transfigured sock, but Ginny wanted it realistic.”

George nodded. Neither said it aloud, but they knew that the other was thing the same thing. What Ginny wants, Ginny gets. It had become almost a mantra for them in the past week.

George paused. “It needs something . . . a name!”

Fred grinned. “How about Minerva, after McGonagall? Since it’s such a cruel kitty.”

George grinned back. “I like it!”

They quickly scrawled a note to Ginny telling her how to activate the kitten – tell it, “I solemnly swear that Minerva is up to no good” – and that Ginny was a terrible sister for forcing them to do research.

They wrapped the result of their efforts in a brown parcel and tied it to the legs of several school owls. The package was about the size of Fred’s head. George’s too, for that matter.

They let the owls flap out the window, and thanked Merlin that their part in Ginny’s trick, whatever it was, was done at last.

---


After the excitement of tracking down Flamel had vanished, Harry’s thoughts turned back to Ginny. He supposed that he had better answer her second letter.

Harry had begun to enjoy corresponding with Ginny, and he knew it. Harry had always tried to be honest with himself, if not with others. However, he just couldn’t bring himself to tell Ginny that he had fun writing to her, that he hoped she had fun writing back . . .

Harry sighed and pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment. He started at it blankly, wondering what to write.

Suddenly he was hit by an overwhelming desire to meet Ginny for real, to talk to her face-to-face. He couldn’t stand having a friend on paper only, he wanted someone physical, someone he could speak to.

Ginny was able to understand Harry, to “talk” with him in a way that no one else could, not even Ron and Hermione. Although Ron was his best mate, Harry could never forget Ron’s inability to comprehend the feelings of others. And Hermione was too intellectual, too formal, and she hated Quidditch.

Almost against his will, Harry wondered what would happen if he combined Ron and Hermione. What would the person be like?

Well, someone like Ginny.

Harry sighed again. Ginny would never want to be friends with him, and meeting her while he was at school was impossible.

But he could see her . . . in a photo!

Harry started to write his letter, telling Ginny that he hadn’t minded confiding in her about the Dursleys. He knew it was sort of a lie, but it was a white lie, and that made it okay.

Then, trying not to sound too eager, Harry added a paragraph asking Ginny for a photo. He said that he couldn’t really remember what she looked like from his brief glimpse of her at platform nine and three-quarters, and he was curious to see what Ginny looked like. It wasn’t really a lie, and he was certainly not going to tell Ginny about his urge to meet the perfect friend.

Harry looked back at her latest letter, searching for something to respond to. His eyes fell on the question, So, what is your most embarrassing moment?

Harry colored just thinking about it.

When he was five, he and Dudley had been placed in the same reception class in primary school. Harry had begun to see that he didn’t have a normal family, but he did not know that other children had never felt the none-too-gentle kiss of the cane.

On the first day of school, their assignment was simple: What did you do over the summer? Draw a picture.

Harry hadn’t really done anything over the summer except chores. He certainly didn’t want to draw about that.

But there was one other thing he had done over the summer, something he would never tell the Dursleys about: he had dreamed.

Early on, Harry had learned not to speak to the Dursleys about his parents. He had come to realize that his aunt and uncle wanted him to forget his parents, not that he could remember them anyway. But he could think about them; he could imagine.

All alone in his cupboard, Harry had often constructed complex fantasies about sunlit days spent hand-in-hand with his parents, or about cold, windy nights spent in front of a cheerful fire with motherly arms wrapped around him.

So although his parent’s faces eluded him in even his most detailed dreams, Harry decided to draw a day at the park with his parents for his first assignment at school. After all, Dudley was the only one at school who knew that Harry’s parents were dead.

The next day at school, Harry came proudly bearing a work of art, or at least he considered it so. It was made of three colors: forest green, brown, and pink – colors that Dudley had deemed ugly, and therefore the only colored crayons that Harry was allowed to use. But they suit his purposes wonderfully, and Harry’s drawing was not the worst one in his class.

The teacher asked each student to present his or her drawing. Dudley’s was a picture of a day at the beach with Petunia and Vernon. Somehow, Dudley’s pink bonnet had not made it into the picture.

When it was Harry’s turn, he stumbled up to the front of the classroom, nearly tripping over Dudley’s old pants. He held up his picture so that everyone could see it, and explained that it had been a really fun day, wandering through a peaceful green park with his mum and dad.

When he finished everyone began to clap, as the teacher had instructed. Everyone except Dudley.

He stood up in his seat, pointing to Harry’s picture. “That’s a lie!” Dudley’s well-practiced shout carried well across the room. “That picture isn’t true! He hasn’t got any parents!”

And, laughing at Harry, Dudley told the entire class how Harry’s parents had died in a car crash, leaving Harry at the mercy of his aunt and uncle. Harry recalled hearing the story told the exact same way by Aunt Petunia.

The teacher, who had been staring at Harry, quickly recovered. “Dudley, don’t talk that way about Harry! I’m sure he had a lovely time in the park with his parents, didn’t you, Harry?” She glanced expectantly at Harry who was still standing in the front of the room, his face very red.

Slowly, the tiny boy shook his head. “No,” Harry said simply, “I didn’t.”

He had trudged back to his seat, laughter ringing in his ears.

Harry looked back at the parchment on which he was writing his letter to Ginny, shaking his head to clear the laughter that he could still vividly remember.

Sighing, Harry decided that he really should tell Ginny about the incident. After all, she had told him her most embarrassing moment, although Canary Cream Puffs didn’t hold a candle to being shamed about his parents, or lack thereof.

Harry dipped his quill back into the ink and then added a final paragraph to the letter explaining what happened in primary school. After all, he told himself, a deal is a deal, and she did tell me about her most embarrassing moment.

He signed the letter, rolled it into a scroll, and headed off to find Hedwig.

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Chapter 9: Chapter 9: Arrival of the Kitten

Author's Notes: Thanks to my wonderful beta Spencer on this one, he beta-ed his and the next chapter in under a day...
Expect Ch. 10 very soon. As in, next 15 minutes. When its validated is not up to me... If you were wondering, this story will end at Chapter 12. Also a very warm thank-you to everyone who reviewed. I just love getting reviews, I usually look at them during my computer science class at school! So thanks. Also thanks to the amazing number of people (49!) who put my story among their favorites. I am shocked and very grateful.


Ginny woke in the dead of the night to a tapping on her window. She was just starting to debate whether it was worth it to get up and see what the noise was, when she suddenly realized what it must be.

She almost gave a squeal of excitement when she crossed to the window and saw not one, but three Hogwarts owls, flapping laboriously outside her window and waiting for her to let them in.

She eagerly opened the window, trying to make as little noise as possible. She wasn’t quite sure why, but she still had not told her parents about her correspondence with Harry. She certainly didn’t want them to know about her plans with the little bundle that had just arrived.

The owls fluttered across the room and landed heavily on the bed, the parcel still tied between the three.

Although she desperately wanted to open the package, her mother had always told her to open scrolls first, so Ginny unrolled Fred and George’s note and scanned it quickly. She smiled when she read about the reason for the twins’ choice of name. Ginny had never met her, but Minerva McGonagall was infamous in the twins’ stories.

Minerva, Ginny thought to herself. All I have to do is unwrap this package, and…

Ginny sighed to herself. She knew that her part of the plan was yet to come; it was also the most dangerous part.

Her job was to somehow locate the Dursleys’ home and deliver Minerva to their doorstep. She was sure that Dudley’s greed would motivate him to keep the kitten, even if he only planned to torture her.

The evil grin returned to Ginny’s face. Dudley would find Minerva very hard to torture.

---


Ginny groggily awoke once more to a tapping at her window. After spending a late night admiring Minerva, though not activating her, Ginny was in no mood to wake up.

Blinking, she looked around her room and was surprised to find that the sun was shining in through the window.

The window. Once more there was an owl hovering just outside the house, waiting to be let in.

Ginny sat up and looked more closely at the owl. “Hedwig!”

No longer sleepy, Ginny hopped out of bed and opened the window. She stepped back to allow the owl to flap in.

Ginny quickly untied the scroll from Hedwig’s leg. Another letter from Harry! She loved getting letters.

But this wasn’t any letter; this was a letter from Harry! Ginny gave a little bounce on her bed, wincing as she felt the springs. She knew that she liked getting letters from Harry even more than she liked normal mail. Ginny tried to tell herself that it was just because Harry was famous, but she knew it was more than that.

Harry seemed to care about Ginny in his letter, even though he wasn’t family. He wasn’t even really an acquaintance, seeing as she had never met him.

Ginny sighed. That’s what made this all so hard. Harry had given no sign that his letters to her were anything more than a distraction from everyday life. That hurt her, to think that the letters she treasured so were nothing more than entertainment. She wanted more from Harry than that.

Ginny had just realized what she wanted most in the world: to be Harry’s friend.

She remembered her old feelings for Harry. Well, she thought, bemused. You’ve come quite a long way from hating the scrawny boy who couldn’t lift his trunk, and even further from your childish crush on a hero you’d never met!

Ginny couldn’t help remembering her old fantasy of spending hours encircled by Harry’s arms. She couldn’t help wondering what it would feel like… Ginny smiled to herself. That would be wonderful.

She shook her head. Stop it! she chided herself. If Harry doesn’t even see you as a friend, what makes you think that he’d want to be your girlfriend? You’ll have quite a challenge becoming close to him without encouraging that type of feeling!

Ginny giggled at her own foolishness, then remembered the scroll she still held in her hand. She unrolled it and began to read.

When she finished, she slumped against her pillows, shocked. Harry’s most embarrassing moment wasn’t just embarrassing, it was cruel. What type of person could humiliate a boy on so sensitive a topic? Dudley was a monster.

Her resolve hardened. Before the week was out, Minerva would be with the Dursleys.

But Ginny couldn’t help feeling horribly guilty. Harry had told her his most horrendous, terrible memory of being embarrassed, and she hadn’t even been able to tell him about her silly, albeit embarrassing, moment.

She would have to rectify that in her next letter — to do otherwise would be unfair.

Re-reading the letter, Ginny’s eyes locked on the part where Harry asked for her photo. Hope rose in her chest. Surely he wasn’t just being polite! He must want to see her!

She smiled. Perhaps there was hope for a friendship between her and Harry after all! And someday, perhaps more…

Ginny shook her head at her own foolishness. Harry isn’t even your friend; not yet! she told herself. You do not like him that way! You should give that up because he’ll never look at you that way! Harry will be your friend, nothing more.

---


Ginny took a deep breath, preparing herself to lie.

She walked casually into the kitchen. For once, her mother was absent, off on a three-day trip to Aunt Muriel’s house. Thank Merlin that Ginny had been spared this trip!

Her father was sitting at the kitchen table, reading the Daily Prophet. She walked over to him.

“Hi Dad! I have a quickie question to ask you.”

He looked up from the paper and smiled at her. “What is it?”

“About Muggles…” Ginny was rewarded when his face lit up with interest. “How do they find one another? You can always use a Location Spell to find someone’s address, but how do they do it?”

Ginny knew that without a wand, she would be forced to resort to Muggle methods of detection to locate the Dursleys. The only one in her family who might know how to do it would be her father.

Arthur Weasley tapped his chin, thinking. “Well, they often use a commuter to find out information — they can search on something call the Inter-tent. I’m not quite sure how it works. Oh!” Ginny could see the enlightenment on her fathers face. “They also use a fellytone book!”

“A fellytone book?”

Her father nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! It’s a list of names, addresses, and fellytone numbers!”

Ginny grinned. “Perfect! I mean, thanks, Dad, that’s very interesting.”

A fellytone book! All she had to do now was find one…

---


Number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.

Ginny had waited until her father left for work the next morning, then left the house, feeling extremely nervous. It was the first time she had ever gone anywhere unaccompanied.

It was only a short walk to Ottery St. Catchpole. When she arrived, Ginny had walked up to a Muggle house at random, and knocked on the door.

It opened, revealing a plump, cheerful-looking lady not unlike Mum. She looked down in surprise at the red-headed little girl standing on her doorstep.

Summoning her courage, Ginny took a deep breath. “Good day, ma’am.”

The lady smiled. “Hello, cutie! What are you doing here all alone?”

Ginny barely stopped herself from making a face — cutie?

Sticking out her lower lip just the tiniest bit, she put on what she hoped was a pitiable-little-girl face. “Please, ma’am, I was separated from my parents at the market just down the way. I don’t know my fellytone number yet, so could I borrow your fellytone book?”

There, it was out! Ginny was fairly sure she’d acted well, having practiced it in front of the mirror.

The lady chuckled merrily. “Fellytone? Oh, you poor thing! Of course you can use our telephone book!”

Inwardly, Ginny smiled in triumph, but she kept her little-girl face. She took the lady’s hand and followed her inside.

Ginny couldn’t help staring as the lady went to fetch the book. She was in a Muggle house! There were lights that ran on eckeltricky! And there was a commuter sitting on the desk in the corner, and an actual fellytone, or telephone, on the wall!

The lady came back in the room clutching a large yellow book. “Here you are, dear,” she said, smiling. “What is your last name?”

Ginny had not planned for this, and she wasn’t going to tell even this nice lady that she was tracking down the Dursleys. Struggling to think of an excuse, she remembered what her mum had drilled into her brain. “Um, I’m sorry, ma’am, but my mummy told me never to tell my name to strangers.”

The lady smiled. “All right. But if you need help looking up your number, just tell me.”

Ginny had quickly located the Dursleys’ address, avoided the lady’s offer of use of a phone, and walked back home.

Back in the safety of her room at the Burrow, Ginny could hardly believe what she’d done. It gave her a bold feeling of independence, knowing that she’d walked into a Muggle house! And it gave her hope that she could do the next step of her plot to discipline the Dursleys.

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Chapter 10: Chapter 10: Adventures at Knight

Author's Notes: Here it is, Chapter 10, Ginny's little adventure....
Thanks as always to my fantastic beta Spencer, and to Minerva my kitten, who inspires my by purring on my lap.


Once more, Ginny was awake in the dead of night. This time, she had been lying in bed, pretending to be asleep for over two hours. Her nerves were humming with anticipation, and Ginny doubted that she could have slept even if she’d wanted to.

But it was vital that she stay awake.

Tonight was the night that Minerva would reach her new home. It was the perfect opportunity, for Mum was still at Aunt Muriel’s. Ginny was still waiting for her father to fall asleep.

She looked at the clock, ticking away on the table beside her bed. One minute ‘til midnight, a wonderful time for an adventure.

Trying to make as little noise as possible, Ginny got out of bed and crept to the door of her parents’ room. The door was partially open, and Ginny heard loud snores issuing from the bed.

Smiling, Ginny climbed the stairs to the attic. Long practice had taught her to avoid the creaky ones.

In the attic, Ginny located a certain trunk, covered with dust. Careful not to disturb the ghoul, Ginny opened the trunk and lifted out a long, thin box. She opened it, revealing an old wand — her great-grandmother’s.

There was only one way that Ginny knew of for an underage witch to reach a house that was not on the floo network, and that was the Knight Bus. She had heard all sorts of stories about it and couldn’t wait to see for herself. But to call it, she needed a wand.

Ginny tip-toed back down the stairs and into her room. She had packed a knapsack with Minerva, still inactivated. She grabbed the knapsack and continued down the stairs and out the front door, which she had oiled that morning. It swung open without its usual creak.

She walked to the front of the yard, wishing that she knew a spell to call light. Nerves buzzing, Ginny threw out her wand arm.

And waited. It seemed to take forever, but it was probably only a few seconds until the still night was shattered by a loud BANG! and the bright glare of headlights.

Shielding her eyes, Ginny stepped back as the door to a large, purple vehicle swung open. Golden letters on the side spelled out, “The Knight Bus.”

Ginny couldn’t help gasping. That…thing…was enormous! And she had called it! Ginny was relieved — she hadn’t been sure that the summoning would work, given that the wand wasn’t her own.

A pimply faced young man stepped out to greet her. “Welcome,” he proclaimed proudly, “to the Knight Bus! I am Stan Shunpike, your conductor.”

Ginny eagerly clambered aboard, drawing out eleven carefully hoarded silver sickles.

“Here you are!” she said. The pimply-faced youth looked toward the other man in the front of the bus.

“Ern,” he asked anxiously. “Is this ‘ere the right amount?” He turned to her and grinned. “First day on the job!”

Ginny gulped nervously.

“Where was it that you were ‘eaded?”

“Er, Number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.” Ginny said this with a practiced ease. The words had become almost a mantra for her since she had discovered the address.

“Ah,” said Ern, nodding wisely. “Muggle establishment, that is.”

Stan looked at her curiously. “‘Choo doing there?”

Ginny tried to put on a haughty expression. “None of your beeswax. Now, let’s be off!”

---


Ginny staggered off the bus onto a lamp-lit street. Feeling slightly sick, Ginny paused to rest before looking around. She would never ride the Knight Bus again, except perhaps to get home that night.

Ginny looked up at her surroundings. She was standing outside of a perfectly ordinary house, with a neatly trimmed lawn and neatly clipped bushed. Ginny couldn’t help thinking of the horrible people inside.

Reaching into her knapsack, Ginny pulled out a cloth-wrapped bundle: Minerva. She removed the covering, and admired the kitten. She never stopped wondering how Fred and George had produced something so bloody cute!

Moving silently and clutching the kitten, Ginny crept up to the Dursleys’ perfectly-painted door. Looking at the mail slot, Ginny smiled.

She pushed open the flap, and whispered the words that she had been longing to say ever since the three owls had shown up outside her window. “I solemnly swear that Minerva is up to no good.”

The kitten in her arms stirred. Its eyes winked open, and Ginny saw a mischievous glint in their amber depths. It moved its paws around experimentally, stretching this way and that, extending its claws and re-sheathing them. Ginny was glad to see that the claws were wickedly sharp.

She smiled her evil smile. It was time for revenge.

She pushed the kitten through the mail slot in the door. It squeezed through eagerly, as if glad to have a mission. Its rump wiggled as it struggled to fit, and then it was gone, the tip of its tail whipping through the slot just in time to avoid getting caught as the flap swung back down.

Ginny sighed in relief. “Goodbye, Minerva, and good luck,” she whispered to herself. She was almost sure she heard an answering mew.

---


Ginny dropped on her bed in exhaustion the moment she returned to her room at the Burrow. The return trip on the Knight Bus had been no easier than the first one, and she swore that she would never set foot on that purple nightmare again.

Ginny just wanted to go to sleep — by now it was almost two o’clock in the morning, the latest she’d ever stayed up before — but she had to replace her great-grandmother’s wand and the knapsack, at risk of getting caught. Her mother was returning the next morning, and she had an uncanny knack for discovering her children’s plots.

Ginny sneaked back up to the attic, replaced the knapsack in the front hall, and returned to her room once more. She considered just falling asleep in her cloths, but no, that would be another dead giveaway that she’d been up and about at night.

Somehow, she dragged herself into her pyjamas and, with a relieved sigh, flopped back into bed to sleep.

---


Ginny woke to an insistent rapping on her door. “Wha…” she murmured drowsily, still not awake.

Then she realized who would be knocking. “Mum! Come in!”

Mrs. Weasley opened the door and came in, enfolding her daughter in a hug. “Hello, dear, I missed you!”

Ginny snuggled into her mothers arms. “Missed you too.”

“Now, why are you asleep so late in the morning? It’s quarter ‘til eleven!”

Ginny gasped. “Really? Uh, well, I was up late last night, erm, reading.”

Mrs. Weasley gave a little tsk, tsk. “I suppose your father never made you turn out the lights. I’ll have to speak to him. Breakfast is on the table, so come down as soon as you’re ready.”

She bustled out of the room. Ginny sighed with relief, thankful that her late night was to be blamed on her father.

After breakfast, Ginny decided to respond to Harry’s letter. She started with a bit of fluff about her mom’s trip, then she got to the hard part.

Harry, I have a confession to make. I wasn’t completely honest with you about my most embarrassing moment. I feel really bad, because yours is so horrible and you told me anyway. You see, when I was little, my favorite bedtime story was the legend of famous Harry Potter. I listened to it over time and eventually, I sort of developed a crush on you. Mind you, this was ages ago; I was really little…

Ginny crossed out the last sentence. From now on, she would be totally honest with Harry. She proceeded to write to him of the entire affair with the poem.

Ginny sighed. She hoped that Harry wouldn’t hate her for being dishonest, or for having a childish crush on the famous hero. That had all been before she knew the real Harry, the noble, caring, brave, sensitive boy who wrote her letters. Admittedly, she still had a crush on him, but that was different.

About to send the letter, Ginny remembered Harry’s request for a picture. She found a family album in the living room, and chose the best picture of herself that she could find. She was sitting against the thick trunk of a tree, wearing a green jumper and a cute brown skirt. The sun was shining through the leaves, adding golden streaks to her hair. Ginny smiled at her picture, and gave it a little lecture.

“Now, you’ve got to try and look good when you get to Harry Potter.” Her image perked up at the name. “Yes, that’s right. Look nice for Harry.”

She attached the photo to the letter. Thinking about Harry and the photo, she realized that one glimpse of Harry Potter at the train station wasn’t really enough for her. What she really wanted was to see Harry, face to face, but she knew that it was impossible. She decided to settle for asking Harry for a photo of himself.

Ginny added her last request as a post-script, then rolled up the letter and watched Errol flap off to Hogwarts.

Back to index


Chapter 11: Chapter 11: The Philosopher's Stone

Author's Notes: Chapter 11, the second to last one! And I'm running out of time on the challenge too...
Thanks to my superb beta Spencer! Also thanks to everyone who reviewed, keep them coming! And thanks to whoever nominated this story for a DSTA, I'm so greatful.


Harry picked at his toast, thinking about the Philosopher’s Stone. The centaurs had told him that Voldemort was after the Stone, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione assumed that Snape was helping Voldemort. He was pressuring Quirrell about the Stone, and it seemed that Quirrell had nearly given in. The Stone would not be safe much longer.

He looked up when a flash of wings passed in front of his plate. “Errol!” Harry exclaimed, pleased. If there was one thing that could take his mind off of his troubles, it would be a letter from Ginny.

Eagerly, Harry untied the scroll from the owl’s leg. He started to unroll it, but noticed that Ron was trying to discreetly look over his shoulder. He turned to his other side in time to catch Hermione quickly turn her head away from Ginny’s letter.

Scowling, Harry re-rolled the letter.

Ron looked confused. “Why don’t you open it, mate?”

“Because it’s my letter! I can read it whenever I want!”

Ron backed off, still looking puzzled. “Right. Of course. Whatever.”

“Sorry, Harry,” Hermione added softly.

“Like Ron said, whatever. Let’s go back to the tower; I have an essay to finish for Flitwick.” With that, the trio headed off to the Gryffindor common room.

Back at the tower, they opened their books — Charms for Harry and Ron, and some obscure magical theory book for Hermione. After a few minutes, Harry looked up at his friends. Just as he’d predicted, Hermione was absorbed in studying and Ron was dozing gently.

Harry decided that it was safe to open his letter. He spread it out inside of his book, hoping that it would shield his actions from Hermione, should she look up.

The first thing Harry noticed was the picture of Ginny. She looked…beautiful. There was no other word for it. Her gorgeous auburn hair sparkled in the dappled sunlight that fell from the trees. Her eyes danced merrily, and her friendly grin warmed him. She waved cheerfully from the photograph.

Harry shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. Ginny was amazing, but…she had never even met him! They weren’t even friends, not really. He would have to do something to change that. He just couldn’t wait until next year; Ginny would be coming to Hogwarts! Harry resolved to develop some sort of…relationship with Ginny, even if it was only one of camaraderie.

Giving the picture a last glance, Harry tucked it in the pocket of his robes and proceeded to read the letter.

He was filled with admiration for Ginny as he read about her real most embarrassing moment. Not everyone had the courage to admit that they were wrong, let alone rectify the problem. Ginny was so kind, so caring, so honest…

---


And so the month at Hogwarts passed, and the owl route between Hogwarts and the Burrow stayed well-traveled. Harry and Ginny took enormous pleasure in each other’s letters, though never let the other know of it.

But before Harry knew it, it was exam time. He was forced to fill his empty hours with revising, not composing long missives to Ginny. Harry still tried to find time to tell Ginny what was going on at Hogwarts. After some hesitation, he confided his suspicions about Snape. Ginny seemed to understand everything that Harry told her, and she sympathized with his frustration about knowing what was going on, and yet being able to do nothing. He even told her when his scar started to prickle. She expressed concern over him, making Harry feel ridiculously pleased.

At long last, exams were over! Harry was fairly confident that that he had passed, given the amount of time for which Hermione had forced him to revise. But Harry was still worried…about Snape.

His scar was prickling almost non-stop now, and Harry felt sure that Snape would make his move for Voldemort very soon. Hermione and Ron did not share his concerns until they went to see Hagrid.

Earlier in the year, Harry, Ron, and Hermione had helped Hagrid deal with Norbert, the baby Norwegian Ridgeback dragon that he had hatched from an egg. Harry had not thought to ask Hagrid how he had come by the egg, until now.

When Hagrid revealed that he had told a mysterious stranger how to get past Fluffy in order to convince the stranger that he could handle a dragon, the trio’s thoughts immediately turned to the Stone. If someone, most likely Snape, knew how to get past Fluffy, then the Stone was no longer safe.

Harry felt sure that Snape would go after the Stone that very night. When he, Ron, and Hermione tried to find Professor Dumbledore to warn him, Professor McGonogall revealed that he was on business outside of Hogwarts. This only increased their fears, despite their Transfiguration professor’s reassurances that the Stone could not be stolen.

Harry decided that there was nothing for it but to go after the Stone himself. Ron and Hermione insisted on coming along.

So that night, Harry, Ron, and Hermione crowded under the invisibility cloak. Neville tried to stop them from leaving Gryffindor Tower, so Hermione was forced to perform the Full Body Bind on him even though he was just doing what he thought was right.

When they reached the forbidden third-floor corridor, Harry took a deep breath to calm his nerves, and opened the door.

---


Days later, Harry awoke, blinking, to the bright white light in the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts. As he reached for his glasses, memories came flooding back to him.

How he, Ron, and Hermione had escaped from the Devil’s Snare and caught the flying key. How Ron’s amazing prowess at chess had enabled Harry and Hermione to continue to the room with the potions. How Hermione had cleverly figured out the riddle and given Harry the correct potion to move on. How he had somehow gotten the Stone out of the Mirror of Erised. Harry shuddered involuntarily, remembering how he had faced Quirrell, not Snape, and the terrible secret hidden behind Quirrell’s turban. How his very touch had burned Quirrell and Voldemort, enabling Harry to keep the Stone. His final memory was of an evil black shadow, fleeing the castle.

Voldemort was merely injured, not eliminated. But that was a problem for another day. Harry noticed a stack of Chocolate Frogs on the table next to his bed. He reached for one, but stopped when he saw the handmade card that was propped up next to them.

It was from Ginny! She had somehow heard of his adventure, and had cared enough to send him a card! A warm glow filled Harry as he munched a Chocolate Frog.

---


Harry walked sadly into the Great Hall with Ron and Hermione. As glad as he was that they had rescued the Stone, he couldn’t help feeling regret that Slytherin had won the house cup.

As he sat down at the glum Gryffindor table, Harry wanted nothing more than to wipe the smug smirk off Draco Malfoy’s face. Ron, sitting next to him, was clearly thinking the same thing. The entire table exchanged gloomy looks as Dumbledore announced the final numbers of House points. Gryffindor was at the bottom.

They all perked up as Dumbledore told everyone that “recent events must be taken into account.”
Harry was not sure what these events were, as he had spent the last few days in the Hospital Wing, but perhaps Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff could win the cup. Anyone but Slytherin.

The smiles grew on the faces of the Gryffindors as Dumbledore gave points to Ron and Hermione for their actions while going after the Stone. When he awarded Harry sixty points, all the houses cheered, aside from Slytherin. Gryffindor was tied for the house cup!

Neville was the hero of the evening. Dumbledore awarded him ten points for standing up to his friends, and the small boy was nearly buried under hugs from the Gryffindors.

Harry grinned and cheered with the rest. They had won the house cup! He couldn’t wait to tell Ginny.

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Chapter 12: Chapter 12: Friends, At Last

Author's Notes: Finally, the final chapter! This story is over! Thanks to my wonderful beta, Spencer, he beta-ed this in one night. Thanks also to everyone whos reviewed, I love it! Also thanks to those who've nominated me for a DSTA, I'm amazed and really greatful.


The Hogwarts Express pulled into the station at platform nine and three-quarters. Harry missed Hogwarts already, but he couldn’t wait to get off the train. Ginny had said that she would be waiting, and he just couldn’t wait to see her!

As he lugged Hedwig’s cage off the train, the owl inside hooted grumpily. Harry tried to calm her, disliking the noise and crowd himself. But all thoughts of that fled his mind as he saw a small cluster of redheads.

Knowing that it must be the Weasleys, he looked for one person in their bunch. Sure enough, Percy, Fred, and George were all exchanging hugs with their parents, if rather reluctantly. But the one Weasley that Harry was looking for was there too, squashed in against her mother’s bulk in the crowd.

Ginny.

Harry stopped at the sight of her. She was craning her neck, searching the crowds…for him? Harry hoped so.

He swiftly located his trunk, which had just been unloaded off the train, and placed Hedwig’s cage on top of it. He wanted to go greet Ginny and, he supposed, Mrs. Weasley, but wasn’t quite sure if it would be…appropriate.

Ron had joined up with his family by this time, and was looking for Harry. Seeing him standing by his trunk, looking confused and staring wistfully at the Weasleys, Ron decided to help his friend out.

“Oy! Harry! Over here!”

Harry smiled gratefully at his best mate and manoeuvred through the throng over to the Weasley family.

---


Ginny spent the entire ride to platform nine and three-quarters wondering if she was nervous, excited, apprehensive, or just plain scared.

After all, today was the day! She would finally get to meet Harry Potter, her quill-pal, her hero, her sort-of crush and, dare she hope, her friend?

All of this combined made Ginny hop up and down in anticipation as the Hogwarts Express pulled into the station. For the first time in an entire school year, she was about to see Harry!

Ginny had never gotten her photo of Harry. His explanation wasn’t very satisfying: something about not really having one with him. Ginny was sure she knew the answer. The Dursleys just hadn’t cared enough about Harry to take any photos of him.

The thought that a boy could go his entire life without posing for a picture, without patiently holding a smile as someone fussed with the automatic timer on the camera, without having someone make bunny-ears behind his head…it made her blood run cold. But she had done something about it, and that was the important thing.

Ginny turned her attention to the train’s red and gold doors. In a matter of minutes, maybe seconds, those doors would swing open and a crowd of students would rush off, eager to see their families — all except one.

But Ginny was eagerly waiting for Harry. Apart from meeting him face-to-face for the first time, there was so much she wanted to ask him! Ginny had worried for days after her mum had gotten the news that Ron and Harry had been injured while rescuing the Philosopher’s Stone. It had taken Harry days to wake up…what if he hadn’t? What if she had never gotten a chance to even start a real friendship with the Boy Who Lived? No, not the Boy Who Lived; with Harry.

But that was all over and done with — Harry was fine, and he was coming home! Ginny’s powerful curiosity had arisen, and she couldn’t wait to grill Harry and Ron for the details of not only their adventure, but of their life at Hogwarts too.

It would all start once that shiny red and gold door opened…

---


Mrs. Weasley was studying her daughter carefully. She could just be imagining things, but her motherly instincts told her that her daughter was a bit too excited for her brothers’ return. And raising Fred and George had taught Mrs. Weasley to trust her instincts.

Ginny had been hopping from foot to foot as the train pulled into the station — something that she had never done in the past. Come to think of it, Ginny had done a lot of unusual things in the past year. Mrs. Weasley counted them up in her head.

First, Ginny had spent an awful lot of time in her room with her door shut, presumably writing, based on the amount of paper and ink she had used. Could that have anything to do with Errol’s frequent absences? Hmm…, she thought.

Ginny had also spent several days sleeping very late — something her daughter rarely did. She usually liked to be up with the dawn in order to get a jump start on her lazy brothers.

And though this last reason was rather vague, Ginny had also seemed a trifle, well, preoccupied over the past year. As if something was more important that what she was doing then and there with her mum and dad. No, Mrs. Weasley told herself, that can’t be right. You’re just imagining things; Gin-Gin was just lonely without Ron or something like that!

But Mrs. Weasley couldn’t help but think that there was something more.

Her daughter’s excitement was rather catching. Mrs. Weasley also found herself wriggling a bit with impatience as the train slowly pulled to a stop in the station. She wanted to see her sons!

There was one more boy whom she wanted to meet this year: Harry Potter. The poor boy had seemed rather lonely when she had met him at the start of term. When Ron had owled her to say that Harry probably wouldn’t be getting many, well, any presents for Christmas, she had taken pity on the poor lad and knit him a Weasley jumper. Now she wanted to really meet Harry. He looked like he could use a good hug.

Finally, the students began to get off the train. Percy was among the first off, bustling around and trying to get the students to refrain from shoving on their way off. Mrs. Weasley sighed. It was good to see Percy take such responsibility, but sometimes she wondered if he took everything too seriously. Still, it was good to see her third-eldest son.

Fred and George came next, surrounded by a crowd of friends as always. No doubt they had some new product to show off. They eventually rounded up Percy to come give their mum a hug.

Ron was one of the final students off the train. He was accompanied by a bushy-haired girl with slightly large front teeth, and a rather thin boy with messy black hair and shocking green eyes.

Beside her, Ginny was scanning the crowd. She didn’t notice as the boy pushed his bangs back from his eyes and revealed a scar in the shape of a bolt of lightning.

---


Where was her idiot brother and his not-at-all-idiot friend? Ginny scrutinized the crowd — surely they must be off the train by now!

Her eye caught a flash of red hair — Ron! But no Harry. She saw her brother look off to the side, and followed his gaze. Ginny’s breath caught in her throat.

Harry Potter. She was about to meet Harry Potter!

Suddenly Ginny felt very self-conscious. She had tried to pick a casual, but cute outfit that morning. Her hair was done up with sparkly green butterfly clips. But had it gotten mussed in the car? Were the butterflies too childish? Would Harry like it?

Ginny nibbled her bottom lip as Harry drew closer, staring at her feet and stealing nervous glances at Harry. She was just able to stop herself from grabbing her mother’s hand for reassurance.

His eyes met hers, brilliant green and warm brown. He smiled, and Ginny nearly sagged with relief.

---


Harry wove through the crowd towards the Weasleys. Ginny was looking down at her feet — he wished she would look up, so that he could see her beautiful brown eyes. Her hair cloaked her face, only partially restrained. It, too, was gorgeous.

She glanced up at him, and their eyes met for the first time. Here was the girl he had written to all year, whom he desperately wanted as a friend. Ginny Weasley.

Unsure of what to do, Harry smiled tentatively. He hadn’t noticed that her eyes held tension until some of it left. That made Harry uncertain — had Ginny been as nervous about meeting him as he had about meeting her? What did that imply? Could she possibly see more in him than a distant hero? He hoped so.

He drew closer to the Weasleys. What could he say to Ginny? All the conversations that he had rehearsed in his head fled from his thoughts.

He was close enough to make out the freckles on her face. She was starting to smile at him now, too.

“You must be Harry! We’ve heard so much about you!”

Harry was torn from his thoughts by the jovial voice of Mrs. Weasley. He was startled to feel himself drawn into a hug.

Harry tensed, unsure how to react. Then he realized that Mrs. Weasley was just trying to be kind to him and he relaxed into her arms. But he still hadn’t been able to say a word to Ginny!

---


Ginny couldn’t help scowling at her mother. Here she was, her big moment with Harry, and her mother had stolen it with a classic mum-hug!

But all her irritation vanished when Harry emerged from her mum’s arms. He looked surprised, and faintly pleased. Ginny realized that Harry had probably never been hugged before, and she felt a pang of sorrow.

Harry caught her gaze, and smiled again, a trifle nervously. Was he really nervous about talking to her? What could that mean? He walked over to her.

“Hey.”

She couldn’t help grinning. “Hey.”

“So…” Harry did not seem to be able to find anything to say. Ginny decided to take the initiative.

“It’s great to meet you at long last!

Harry grinned back at her, his green eyes lighting up. “Yeah!” Was that relief she saw in his eyes? “You can’t imagine how long I’ve wanted to actually meet you for.”

Ginny’s heart skipped a beat. He had wanted to meet her too! She tried to keep a calm and cheerful outward appearance. “Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea.”

It was time to discuss the Dursleys. Ginny took a deep breath. “Harry, I just wanted to say, those Muggles treat you awfully, and I realize it.” Harry flinched. It must be a sensitive topic with him. Ginny allowed a slightly feral grin to spread over her face. “But I think you’ll find things a bit…different…when you return home.”

She could see the puzzlement in his eyes. Seeming to shrug it off, Harry grinned at her. “Well, then things must be better, because they can’t get much worse. I suppose I should thank you, Ginevra Weasley. I think we’re going to be great friends.”

Ginny nearly burst with happiness. On impulse, she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “That sounds brilliant.”

*


{A/N: Many of you requested it, so... this story now has a sequel! Actually, I like to call it a companion story... it's about what Minnie does to the Dursleys. It's called "Revenge of the Kitten."

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