Search:

SIYE Time:13:40 on 28th March 2024
SIYE Login: no


Meaning of One, Part One: Stone and Fire
By Sovran

- Text Size +

Category: Alternate Universe
Characters:Albus Dumbledore, Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Minerva McGonagall, Ron Weasley
Genres: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama, General, Humor
Warnings: Violence
Story is Complete
Rating: R
Reviews: 1026
Summary: If two people are deliberately created to be together, how will the challenges in a world of magic and Dark Lords be dealt with? What would it mean for two people to truly become one? A re-imagination of first year.
Hitcount: Story Total: 547555; Chapter Total: 31490
Awards: View Trophy Room




Author's Notes:
Thanks, as always, to Moshpit, Jonathan Avery, and Treecat.




ChapterPrinter
StoryPrinter


Thursday morning, Harry and Ginny woke refreshed. They had enjoyed four nights of normal sleep with only one brief nightmare, and they felt immensely better than they had a week earlier. Lifting her head from its place on Harry’s chest, Ginny rubbed her eyes, waved briefly, and popped back to her dormitory.

A few minutes later, they each stood outside their respective lavatories with their shower things in hand. Each dormitory of the tower had its own large bathroom with three showers, three stalls, and three sinks.

Ready for more fun with the tiles? Ginny asked.

I guess so, Harry responded.

They went into the stalls and started their daily routines of counting and cleaning. When Harry finished, he sat on a bench in the small private dressing area outside the shower stall and played with the tiles. He always waited for Ginny to tell him he could stop.

After they returned to Hogwarts, Harry had started using the charm Ginny once used on Percy’s underwear. At first, he cast rosasempra on his toothbrush and made sure that he could reverse the charm with finite incantatem. Once he had succeeded, he learned to make individual squares of tile turn pink instead of just counting them. When he knew how to do that, he moved on to ‘drawing’ pink designs on the white wall of the bathroom. Today, he tried to spell his name in pink letters, but the tiles were too large to make a good ‘A’.

Harry was thoroughly tired of pink, so he decided to experiment with different colors. He realized that practicing spells on the lavatory wall was probably not a good idea, so he picked up an unused towel.

Clearly, he would have to use some other incantation. He knew from Ginny’s memory that rosa was the part of the spell that made things pink. Rosa was from Latin, but neither of them knew the names of any other colors in that language. Instead, he thought about English words that had parts of color names in them. He hoped to use part of another word referring to a color and put it in his spell to replace rosa. The first such word that came to mind was ‘brunette’. ‘Brune’ sounded rather like brown, and it fit nicely with the rest of the word.

Harry focused carefully on the towel and pictured it as a soft shade of brown, such as he had seen on some of the animals at the zoo. When he had the image firmly fixed in his mind, he concentrated as hard as he could and tapped the towel with his wand as he said “brunesempra!”

The towel shimmered slightly and became a pink plush rabbit. The rabbit was about a foot tall, with floppy ears that framed its head. It stood on its hind legs with its front paws extended, as though it were grasping something. The rabbit’s eyes and the stitching forming its mouth and nose were brown, but the rest of the animal was bright pink. Harry was almost positive that the creature was mocking him with its slight grin.

Ginny’s laughter rang through Harry’s head, and he imagined that he could hear her howling with glee with his ears also. Startled by the appearance of the rabbit, his concentration faltered, but Ginny’s eyes were closed as she doubled over laughing in her shower.

Bemused, Harry reached out and tentatively touched the rabbit’s fur. To his surprise, it was much softer than the towel it had once been. It was stuffed tightly enough to sit upright and retain its shape, but it was still very plush.

He sighed and shook his head. Clearly, he thought, experimenting with spells was not as simple as it might seem. He raised his wand to cancel the charm and return the towel to its place. “Finite . . .

Wait! Ginny screamed.

What’s wrong, Ginny?

Can I keep him? He looks like he wants a hug. Hogwarts won’t miss one towel.


Harry could tell that she genuinely liked his odd creation. I think it looks more like it wants to hit me, but sure, Ginny. You can have it if you want it.

Great!
she said happily.

What about Snuggles? he wondered.

He always likes to make new friends. She thought for a moment. The bunny will need a name, though. You made him, so you get to name him.

Harry had no idea what sort of name to give to a stuffed rabbit, but it was important to Ginny for some reason. Err . . . well, it’s a bunny, like you said, so I guess you should call it, umm, Bun-bun?

Bun-bun?
she repeated. That’s not very creative, is it?

And Snuggles is pure genius?

It’s not bad for a two year old,
she insisted. She paused and then said, Okay, his name is Bun-bun. It fits somehow. Thanks, Harry. He’s wonderful.

You’re welcome, Ginny.
He could not imagine why she was so fond of a pink rabbit that had started life as a towel, but if she liked it, he was glad to have made it for her.

He picked up Bun-bun, wrapped him in another towel to conceal him from his roommates, and put the bunny with the rest of his things. Then he returned to the bench and continued trying to write his name in pink tiles while Ginny rinsed her hair.

Harry, this is silly, Ginny said. We’ve seen our own memories, right? And neither of us laughed or anything, did we? He agreed. Can we just stop worrying about it? I know you won’t make fun of me, and you know I won’t make fun of you. We won’t tell anyone else.

If that’s what you want, Ginny. I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable.

We’ll get used to it. Go ahead, stop charming those stupid tiles and get on with your day.


Harry got up from his bench, used a few finite incantatem spells to erase his work on the tiles, returned to his room, and dressed for the day. Alongside his own senses, he saw the ceiling of Ginny’s shower and felt water running down his back. Wow, that stuff is heavy when it’s wet! he said, resisting the urge to tense his neck against the weight.

I’d appreciate it if you didn’t refer to my hair as ‘stuff’, she replied wryly.

You know I like it, Ginny. I just never thought about what it would be like to wash it. He put away his shower things and tucked Bun-bun between the two pillows on his bed. Then he pulled the curtains closed to avoid awkward questions from his roommates.

Wait until I start brushing it. Then you’ll really appreciate what it means to have hair this long.

As promised, brushing Ginny’s hair took much longer than Harry had imagined. He finally understood why he spent so much time waiting for her when she washed it.

Still like it, Harry? she asked. Harry knew she was only half teasing. She really hoped he did not mind the hair she cherished so much.

Of course I do. It’s your hair, and you can do whatever you want with it.

Great! Now I can shave my head, just like I’ve always dreamed about. Thanks, Harry.
Now she was joking, though they both knew she appreciated his willingness to let her make her own decisions. Her mother or brothers would have tried to tell her what to do with her hair if she gave them the opportunity.

At breakfast, a long stream of owls brought the morning post. One of the first owls to enter the hall dropped a small package in front of Neville. The shy boy was sitting next to Harry and Ginny, as had become the norm at meals ever since Ginny first issued the invitation. As other students continued to receive mail, Neville tore open the package to reveal a small glass ball filled with swirling white smoke.

“A Remembrall!” he exclaimed. “It’s from Gran. I always forget things, and this is supposed to turn red if there’s something I’ve forgotten to do.”

I bet you do a much better job of reminding me of things than any Remembrall would, Ginny, Harry teased.

She grinned. And don’t you forget it, Potter.

As Neville wrapped his fingers around the ball, it turned bright red. “Oh, no. I’ve forgotten something already.”

“Maybe you should remember to write a letter to your Gran,” Ginny suggested.

The Remembrall returned to its original white color, and Neville smiled broadly. “That’s it, alright. Thanks, Ginny.” Unfortunately, the Remembrall promptly turned scarlet again. “Oh, well,” he sighed. “At least that’s one less thing I’m forgetting.”

Hedwig flew into the Great Hall with the last of the post owls. She carried a package wrapped in brown paper, and Harry and Ginny watched as she flew towards them. The white owl dropped the package directly in front of Ginny, picked up some bacon from Harry’s plate, and flew back out of the hall. The brown package was clearly labeled “To Ginny Weasley, from Mum.”

“Why is Harry’s owl bringing your mail?” Ron asked.

“She was probably bored,” Harry answered for Ginny. “I don’t get much mail, and I bet Hedwig knows we all sit together at breakfast.”

Ginny reached for the box to open it, but she was distracted by the arrival of Draco Malfoy and his goons. The blond boy noticed Neville’s Remembrall glowing red on the table next to him.

“You’ve forgotten something, Longbottom. What could it be?” Malfoy pretended to think with his hand on his chin, and Crabbe and Goyle mimicked his pose. “Ah, yes! You’ve forgotten that you’ll never be anything more than a worthless squib. Try it now. I’m sure it’ll turn white again.”

“Shove off, Malfoy,” Ginny snapped acidly.

“Ah, hello, baby Weasel,” the Slytherin replied haughtily. “You’ve got a package, too, have you? And it’s wrapped in such nice brown paper. I can’t imagine what’s inside . . . that paper must have used up every knut your idiot father made this week.”

Harry, Ginny, and Ron all leapt to their feet at once, eager to make Malfoy regret his insults. At that moment, however, Professor McGonagall approached them from the Head Table. “What is going on here?”

“Nothing, Professor,” Malfoy said quickly. “I was just helping these Gryffindors with some questions they had.” Smirking, he led Crabbe and Goyle back to the Slytherin table. McGonagall looked sternly at Harry and the Weasleys until they sat back down again, and then she went back to her own chair.

I hate him, Ginny fumed.

Me too, Harry agreed readily. I met him that first time in Diagon Alley, and I thought he was awful. He's only gotten worse since then. I wanted to hit him on the train when he insulted your family.

I met him once at the Ministry of Magic when I was with Dad,
Ginny said. His father is always hanging around there talking to the Minister, and Draco was following him that day. Dad and Mr. Malfoy started arguing about something — they hate each other. Draco’s father must have already told him about my family, because he walked right up to me. He said my hair must be so long because we couldn’t afford to have it cut. She pulled the mass of her hair over her shoulder and held it in both hands. Then he said if we were smart, we’d realize that if we just chopped it all off, we could sell it to a wigmaker and maybe get to eat meat for once.

Harry saw the memory clearly and felt how horrified eight year old Ginny had been by the thought of losing her hair.

I asked Dad about it later, she admitted. He said he would never even think about making me cut my hair. He said it was worth all the galleons in the world because it was attached to my head, and it would be completely worthless if it wasn’t. I haven’t wanted to do more than trim the ends of it since then.

Malfoy’s treatment of Ginny, then and now, made Harry angry, but he was interrupted before he could respond.

“Aren’t you going to open that, Ginny?” Ron wondered, pointing at the parcel Hedwig had delivered.

Ginny opened the box and found the pajamas her mother had promised to send. Mrs. Weasley had apparently done her best to find pajamas that were feminine but offered complete coverage. They had a green and white floral print against a soft blue background. Ginny identified the flowers as lilies of the valley.

Not bad at all, really. One of the advantages to being the only girl is that sometimes I get new things instead of hand-me-downs from the boys.

“Figures,” Ron said sourly. “More new clothes.”

“You’re welcome to wear them if you want to, Ron.” Ginny said. Her brother snapped his mouth shut.

Harry suddenly remembered a similar scene from when Ginny was seven. Her mother had bought her the blue sundress she had been wearing when she and Harry met on Platform 9 ¾. At the time, it had been quite large for her. Ron, seeing the flawless material, asked why Ginny got new clothes while he had to wear his brothers old things. Mrs. Weasley replied that if Ron wanted to wear dresses, he was welcome to, and he could give them to Ginny when he outgrew them.

“You could have worn any old pajamas,” Ron muttered. “They don’t have to be new and flowery and everything if you’re just going to sleep in them.”

Ginny glared at him, frustrated by his unwillingness to let the matter drop. Instead of meeting her gaze, Ron focused on his breakfast and repeatedly stabbed at the sausages on his plate.

There’s a note, Harry observed, fighting his own annoyance with Ginny’s scowling brother. A folded sheet of parchment was tucked between the buttons on the front of the long-sleeved pajama top. Ginny pulled it out, unfolded it, and began to read.

Ginny,
Here are your new pajamas. The buttons have been charmed especially for you. They can’t be buttoned or unbuttoned anywhere except the girls’ loo on your floor of Gryffindor Tower. If you don’t put them on for 24 hours, they’ll screech at you loudly enough to wake up your roommates. Once you put them on, you have to keep them on for at least four hours, so you should use the loo before you get ready for bed each night. Professor McGonagall can reset the charms if needed.

They’ll grow so that they always fit you. We hope you like them.

Love,
Mum & Dad

P.S. You can’t take the buttons off of the fabric, either.


Ginny was fuming, and Harry was not much calmer. Their frustration at the note added to their lingering anger at Malfoy and Ron, making them both very quick to lose their temper.

I didn’t think they’d actually charm my pajamas! How could they do that? Does she really think I’m going to run around the tower starkers?

Why can’t they just trust us? I’m not a criminal or anything,
Harry groused.

I’m the one who has to wear pretty blue shackles every night for the rest of my life!

“Going to be a great day, I can tell,” Ron muttered. “Ginny gets a present, and now the ruddy castle’s heating up again.”

Aargh! Ginny screamed silently and wordlessly. Let’s go outside so we don’t set the stupid table on fire.

They got up and moved towards the door. Ginny carried her new pajamas with her. Ron was too busy shoving sausages into his mouth and ignoring them to notice that they left.

Maybe if we managed to burn the table, we could say the pajamas were lost in the fire, Harry suggested, only half joking.

Don’t tempt me.

By silent consent, they stopped and sat on the grass. Ginny tossed the garment box onto the ground in front of them and glared at the pajamas still resting innocently inside. She was silent for several minutes, and Harry let her unformed thoughts swirl past him.

Finally, she spoke again. They are pretty, aren’t they?

Ginny did not need or want an answer. She knew her mother had bought the nicest pajamas she could find so that Ginny would want to wear them. Knowing that didn’t stop her from admiring the fabric.

Harry saw where her thoughts were leading. Does it really make a difference? You always change in your room, and you never get up in the middle of the night.

I know. And I can’t imagine not going to bed at all, so the twenty-four hour thing shouldn’t matter.
She sighed. It’s the idea, though. We’re not doing anything wrong, but they keep putting minders on us. These charms are just ridiculous.

Well, maybe we can learn how to remove the charms,
Harry suggested. It might take a while to find the spells or whatever, but apparently you’ll have them for years.

Yeah. And if we take off the charms and don’t get sent to Azkaban or something, we can show them that we didn’t need the charms in the first place.


Resigned, Ginny closed the box, and the two children headed back to Gryffindor Tower to get ready for their first class. Both of them approached Charms with a bit more interest than they had shown the previous day.

***

That afternoon the Gryffindor first years shared their first flying lesson with the Slytherins. Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione walked through the castle towards the main entrance discussing the Transfiguration essays McGonagall had returned to them a few minutes earlier.

“She didn’t find any errors,” Hermione said, “but I’m sure she was being lenient for our first essay. I’ll have to work harder next time.”

Do you think it’s occurred to her that McGonagall didn’t find any errors because there weren’t any errors? Ginny asked Harry, grinning slightly.

Probably not. Should we tell her? he replied.

She wouldn’t believe us.

“How did you do, Harry?” Hermione asked politely.

“Pretty well, I guess. She said my sentences were awkward, but she didn’t take off too much for it.”

Sorry about that, Harry. My mark was better. I guess she liked the way we wrote it the first time.

Are you kidding?
Harry asked, incredulous. That’s the best mark I’ve ever gotten on anything.

Still,
Ginny insisted, next time we’ll write your essay first and mine second. We can take turns.

“What about you, Ron?” Ginny asked. “Did you get a good mark?”

The red-haired boy shrugged. “Good enough.”

Hermione huffed loudly at his lack of concern. “You’ll never be a Prefect with an attitude like that.”

“Fine with me,” Ron replied with a wave of his hand. “Bunch of swotty gits, Prefects.”

The bushy-haired girl inhaled sharply and clenched her jaw. Tears formed in her eyes as she increased her pace to distance herself from the group.

“Oh, good one, Ron,” Ginny snapped.

I don’t understand why she’s that upset, Ginny.

I’d guess that she’s been called a swot every day for years, so she’s sensitive about it. What happens when someone calls you a freak?
she asked.

Oh. Harry felt his cheeks flush with anger at the mention of his least favorite word.

Ron was oblivious to their exchange and to Harry’s sudden understanding. “Thanks,” Ron replied, clearly not understanding what his sister had meant either.

If all Prefects are like Percy, he has a bit of a point, Harry thought after a moment.

They’re not, Harry! she replied vehemently. None of the others have bothered us at all!

She was irritated with him, and Harry did not like the feeling at all, even if he was unsure what he had done wrong. I’m sorry, Ginny, he said sincerely.

Ginny sighed. It’s okay, Harry. I’m not really upset with you. Ron’s the one who’s thicker than a castle wall. He shouldn’t have said that to Hermione.

He followed her thought and realized what she meant. She wants to be a Prefect?

Probably about as much as you want to keep your right hand.


The first years emerged from the castle to find Madam Hooch waiting for them on the front lawn. The sight of the brooms laid out for their use drove all other thoughts from Harry and Ginny’s mind.

The flying coach started the lesson by having them all shout “Up!” to their brooms, causing them to leap off the ground and wait at hip level. Most of the class waited while Hermione, Neville, and a Slytherin girl struggled to get their brooms aloft.

I don’t know why she had us do that, Ginny said. I’ve never seen anyone do it before. Usually you just get on the broom and go.

Hooch had them mount their brooms and gave instructions for hovering just above the ground. When they tried it, Neville kicked too hard and shot up into the sky, out of control. Seconds later, he fell to the ground and broke his arm. As Madam Hooch escorted him to the Hospital Wing, Draco Malfoy laughed out loud to his friends.

“Did you see that?” he gloated. “Someone should have just told him that a fat idiot like him would never be able to fly properly. Could have saved us all some time.”

“Shut up, Malfoy,” Parvati Patil snapped.

“Sticking up for Longbottom, Patil?” Pansy Parkinson sniped back.

Looking around, Malfoy found Neville’s Remembrall lying in the grass nearby. He picked it up and tossed it lightly from hand to hand. Harry and Ginny were absolutely sure that the blonde Slytherin did not intend to return Neville’s gift.

“Hand it over, Malfoy,” Harry ordered.

“You want it, Potter? Come and get it, then,” Draco said. Without waiting for a response, he leapt onto his broom and soared into the air, sneering down at Harry on the ground below.

“Afraid, Potter?”

Help me, Ginny. What do I need to know about flying?

As quickly as possible, Ginny remembered her first experiences on a broomstick. Harry saw how to steer, ascend, descend, and change speed. He rose slowly into the air and circled once, trying out the controls Ginny showed him. Finally, he stopped in front of the surprised Slytherin and said, “Hand it over, Malfoy.”

“Just because you asked so nicely, I will,” the boy sneered. “Go fetch, Potter!” He threw the Remembrall in a long arc across the castle’s lawn and dropped back to the ground.

Without stopping to think, Harry dove after the falling bauble.

Remember to lean over on the broom. You’ll go faster! Ginny advised.

Harry flattened himself on the handle, and the broomstick responded with more speed. He rushed towards the ground, and Ginny closed her eyes so they could focus on the tiny sphere. Just before he hit the ground, Harry reached out with his right hand and caught the fragile Remembrall, pulling sharply on the broomstick with his left hand. His dive flattened into a slower glide across the lawn as the Gryffindors applauded.

The feeling was amazing. Soaring through the air . . . feeling the wind rush past him . . . pulling out of his dive and knowing he would not hit the ground. It was intoxicating.

That was incredible! Ginny agreed happily as she clapped. I’ve never done a dive like that before.

Really? If I did it, you could do it,
Harry replied confidently.

I don’t know, Harry. I think I would have pulled up sooner than you did.

Harry steered his broom back towards the other students. As he came to a stop, he saw Professor McGonagall rushing across the grounds towards him.

Uh-oh.

“Mr. Potter! What do you think you’re doing?” the Professor demanded.

“Neville dropped his Remembrall, Professor, and . . .” Harry began, but his Head of House cut him off.

“I am not interested in your excuses, Mr. Potter! Come with me.” Behind McGonagall’s back, Malfoy smirked broadly at Harry’s predicament.

Ginny glared at him and opened her mouth to tell him off, but Harry stopped her. Don’t bother, Ginny. Right now, one of us is in trouble. If you hex Malfoy, we’ll both be punished, and he’s not worth it.

The Professor led him into the castle and out of sight. Ginny and the other first years waited for Madam Hooch to return. “Now, Potter, tell me what happened,” McGonagall instructed.

Harry told her everything, only leaving out Ginny’s help with flying. When he finished his story, the stern woman stared at him for a moment, then said, “Come with me, Potter.”

As they climbed the stairs towards the third floor, they passed Madam Hooch as she returned from the Hospital Wing. Harry climbed the stairs carefully and watched with Ginny as the flying lesson resumed.

“No more accidents, please,” Hooch said sharply. “Try hovering again. No more than a few inches off the ground.”

Harry started down the hall, and Ginny hovered easily on her broom. “Very well. Those of you who are hovering, dismount and spread out. Try flying in small circles to your left and right,” Hooch instructed. As some of the students moved away, the hawk-faced woman worked with the rest to help them balance on their broomsticks.

McGonagall opened the door to the Charms classroom and asked to speak with someone named Wood. Harry counted flagstones to keep himself from watching with Ginny as she circled slowly. Ginny could perform such simple maneuvers half asleep, so she watched and listened as a tall, athletic boy emerged from Flitwick’s class.

“Mr. Potter,” the Transfiguration professor said, “this is Oliver Wood, Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Mr. Wood, this is Harry Potter. He will be our new Seeker.”

Ginny had to wrench her attention back to her own body to keep from falling off of her broom in surprise.

Harry, that’s wonderful! Harry could feel how proud she was of him.

But it wasn’t me, he argued. You were showing me what to do.

Who cares? You’re the one who did it.


McGonagall told Wood about Harry’s catch out on the front lawn. He was surprised to hear her compare him to Ginny’s brother Charlie. The second Weasley brother had been much more impressive in Ginny’s memories than he had been.

“Ever seen a game of Quidditch, Potter?” Wood asked.

“Students,” Madam Hooch shouted, “continue circling and try to ascend and descend as you turn.” Ginny obediently rose and fell as she looped easily.

Harry shook his head. Ginny remembered plenty of Quidditch games from her backyard, but he did not want to admit that to the older boy.

"He's just the build for a Seeker, too," Wood said, examining Harry closely. "Light and speedy. We'll have to get him a decent broom, Professor. A Nimbus Two Thousand or a Cleansweep Seven, I'd say."

“I will speak to the Headmaster about finding a broom for him,” McGonagall said. “I would very much like to keep Slytherin from winning the Quidditch Cup again.”

“Well, we’ve got a Seeker now. Our chances will be better,” Wood remarked hopefully as he turned to go back to his class.

On the lawn, the flying coach asked for volunteers for a short race on their brooms. Ginny, Malfoy, Ron, and five other students arranged themselves along a line Madam Hooch drew in the grass with her wand. Ron gave Ginny a perplexed look as they hovered in place.

“You’ll fly from here to the right side of the Quidditch pitch.” She instructed. “Circle around behind the pitch and come back here. The first to cross this line will be the winner.”

“Professor, may I speak to you for a moment?” Harry asked McGonagall.

“Very well, Potter. Follow me,” she replied and led Harry back towards the stairs.

Madam Hooch blew her whistle, and the eight students accelerated towards the Quidditch pitch. Ginny was completely focused on flying as fast as possible, and Harry loved the feeling of skimming along above the lawn. As the racers approached the pitch, Ginny and Malfoy were side-by-side in the lead, with Ron and a stringy Slytherin close behind.

Harry started down the stairs at McGonagall’s side as Ginny and Malfoy began circling around the pitch. As the two crossed behind the circular structure and out of view of Madam Hooch, Malfoy reached across the gap between them and tugged sharply down on Ginny’s robes. The pull caused her to lean sharply to her right, but she was able to compensate and straighten without losing speed.

Dirty cheater! Ginny complained.

Next, she saw the Slytherin fall slightly behind her. Looking over her shoulder, she watched as he grabbed the twigs at the end of her broom and leaned backwards, forcing her to pull them both for a moment. Then, suddenly, he pulled forcefully back at the same time as he leaned forward and accelerated. Ginny knew that the move, which was a clear foul in Quidditch, was intended to allow him to get ahead of her, but she managed to keep up with him.

As the two flyers neared the point where they would emerge from behind the pitch, Malfoy apparently became desperate. The blonde boy swerved sharply to his left, attempting to force Ginny to collide with the outer wall of the pitch. They saw him coming, and Harry yelled wordlessly to Ginny, but she was already moving.

Ginny threw herself to her left, away from Malfoy, and allowed her body to swing below her broom as she lost altitude and steered to cross beneath him. She continued her roll, and her long ponytail brushed the ground before she pulled herself back onto her broom. She and Malfoy had switched positions, but his surprise at her maneuver cost him a few seconds, and she pulled ahead of him as they emerged from behind the pitch.

Harry stepped off the stairs onto the first floor as Ginny evaded Malfoy, and he found himself falling as she raced towards the finish line. He caught himself painfully on his hands, but he was not really hurt.

“Are you alright, Potter?” McGonagall asked. Ginny crossed the line well ahead of Malfoy, and the Gryffindors cheered as the Slytherins hissed. She landed smoothly, smiled hugely, and quickly patted the dirt out of her hair.

I won! I’m glad I practiced that move after I saw Charlie do it. Her focus relaxed as she addressed Harry, and she found him picking himself up off the floor. He felt her concern push aside her elation. Harry! Are you okay?

Yeah, I think so. I was coming off the stairs when you did that.

I’m sorry! I wouldn’t have done it if I’d known,
she apologized.

It’s okay, Ginny. I should have been paying more attention. Your race was amazing! He let his happiness for her build so that she could tell how impressed he was.

“Mr. Potter?” McGonagall repeated, growing concerned as Harry failed to respond.

“Sorry, Professor. I’m fine,” he said. He glanced up and down the hall, making sure they were alone and then whispered, “Ginny was flying, and I got confused.”

“I see,” McGonagall replied cautiously. She turned and continued towards her office. Harry followed her carefully.

On the lawn, Madam Hooch awarded Ginny five points and ended the lesson. As Ginny started back towards the castle, Malfoy scowled at her and muttered, “This isn’t over, baby Weasel.” She rolled her eyes and continued on her way.

Ron caught up with her and leaned over. “Where’d you learn to fly like that, Ginny?” he asked disbelievingly.

She grinned mischievously. “Same place you did, Ron. See you later!” Harry and Ginny cherished the look on Ron’s face as she broke into a run and entered the castle, headed for Gryffindor Tower.

“Here we are, Mr. Potter. Have a seat,” McGonagall instructed. Harry sat in front of her desk, and she crossed to her chair behind it. “What did you wish to speak to me about?”

“Professor, I shouldn’t be your Seeker,” he admitted. “Ginny told me how to fly and helped me catch Neville’s ball. Just now, she outran everyone else in a race, even though Malfoy tried to cheat. She should get to play.”

Ginny caught up with Harry’s plan immediately. Oh no you don’t, she warned. She ducked into an empty classroom and willed herself to Professor McGonagall’s office. She appeared between his chair and the desk and then spun to face the surprised woman.

“Don’t listen to him, Professor,” the small girl insisted. “I only showed him how to control the broom. He did the flying. I couldn’t have caught that ball.”

I bet you could have, Ginny, but I wouldn’t have gotten off the ground without your help.

Ginny turned around to look Harry in the eyes. Don’t be stupid. Madam Hooch would have told you all that anyway.

It doesn’t matter. She hadn’t told me yet, and you had. You were brilliant in that race, so you deserve to be on the team.
He picked up her next thought without words. Don’t try to tell me you don’t want to be on the team. I know you’d love it.

So would you,
Ginny countered. We felt amazing when you were flying.

“Excuse me, Miss Weasley, Mr. Potter,” McGonagall interjected.

They stopped and looked at her bashfully. They had completely forgotten she was there, and apparently it was obvious that they had been arguing.

“You’re right, Miss Weasley. This is an issue I face continuously in my classes. You gave Mr. Potter the information he needed, and you believe he did the rest on his own.” McGonagall turned to Harry. “Mr. Potter, you believe it was Miss Weasley’s knowledge and help that allowed you to fly as you did. Correct?”

Both students nodded. Ginny was glad the Professor agreed with her, but neither of them knew why.

Seeing their confused expressions, McGonagall said, “Perhaps I can show you. Please sit down, Miss Weasley.” Ginny sat in the chair on Harry’s right, and the older witch continued. “Do you know how to braid your hair?”

Perplexed, Ginny nodded. “Yes, Professor. I’ve been doing it for years.”

“I suspected as much,” McGonagall replied. “Hair the length of yours can be difficult to manage. Could you demonstrate for us, please?”

Still uncertain, Ginny reached up and swiftly braided a lock of hair near her right ear. After a minute or two, she had braided her waist-length hair into a pleat that hung only to her elbow.

“Now, Potter, do you know how to do what she did? Do you know the pattern of movements needed to make the braid?”

“Yes, Professor,” Harry replied.

“Miss Weasley, would you permit him to braid your hair?” Ginny nodded.

Harry reached across the gap between their chairs and took some of her long hair in his hands. He separated it into three sections, but they were all different sizes. He began laying one strand across another, back and forth. He braided Ginny’s hair for several minutes, but he only managed half of its length before he gave it up as a bad job. The lock he had braided was lumpy, crooked, and had individual hairs looping out of it.

McGonagall answered his confused look. “You see, Potter, that knowing how to do something is not the same as being able to do it well. Ginny showed you how to fly and how to braid, but you flew well because you are a talented flyer. Apparently, you are not a talented hairdresser.”

That’s it exactly, Ginny added. You’re a great flyer. I just got you started.

But you could be on the team, Ginny,
he repeated. You’d love that.

I’ll just share with you whenever you play, and it’ll be just like I’m flying. That’s why you fell on the stairs, right?


He nodded. It was awesome.

“I see you both understand,” the professor remarked. “I appreciate your loyalty, Mr. Potter, but as an educator and former Quidditch player, I assure you that you are on the team because of your own skill. I look forward to seeing your performance on the pitch.”

McGonagall waved them out of her office, and the two friends walked back to Gryffindor Tower.

I can’t wait to tell Ron you made the Quidditch team, Ginny said.

He may not want to talk to you after that flying lesson.

Why not?
She managed a completely innocent expression. It’s not my fault that he and the others never let me fly with them at home.

They found Ron in the common room reading a Quidditch magazine he’d found lying around. Sitting on a sofa next to his chair, they leaned forward to catch his attention.

“Ron, you’ll never believe this,” Ginny began. “McGonagall made Harry the new Gryffindor Seeker!”

“What?” he asked incredulously. “No way. No first year has played on a house team in about a hundred years! The last one was before they made the rule about first years having their own brooms.”

“It’s true,” Ginny confirmed. “McGonagall took him to see Wood. She said he was as good as Charlie when he caught that Remembrall.”

Ron nodded reluctantly. “That was pretty amazing, Harry. How did you learn to fly with those Muggles?”

“He didn’t. That was his very first time on a broom,” Ginny answered excitedly.

Ron glanced at his sister in annoyance. “He can talk for himself, can’t he?”

“Err, yeah,” Harry said. “I’ve never flown before today.”

“That was brilliant for a first go, then.” He paused for a moment. “Say, how are you going to be on the team if you can’t to have a broomstick?”

“I don’t know,” Harry admitted. “McGonagall said she’d talk to the Headmaster about it.”

"Right pair you are," the other boy frowned. "Harry makes the Quidditch team, and Ginny makes us all look like snails in that race."

"She was great, wasn't she?" Harry agreed. "I've never seen flying like that before."

Harry! Ginny warned.

"It's a standard chaser move, really, but . . ." Ron trailed off as he realized Harry's mistake. "Say, how could you have seen it? You were in the castle with McGonagall."

Ginny sighed. Oh well. We should go ahead and tell him, I guess. At least he’s happy about Quidditch right now.

“Ron, look . . . can we talk to you upstairs?” she asked hopefully.

“What for?” her brother asked.

She leaned closer to him and whispered, “It’s a secret, okay?”

Ron scowled, but Ginny knew that her brother could not resist the lure of a secret. Harry and Ginny led him upstairs to the boys’ room. Fortunately, Harry’s other roommates were elsewhere. They sat on Harry’s bed while Ron faced them from his.

How do you think he’ll react? Harry asked. I hope he’s not like Percy.

They’re more alike than either of them would ever admit, so Ron tries really hard to not be like Percy,
Ginny answered. Ron’s always had to follow our brothers’ footsteps, and he never seems to do anything that they haven’t already done. He’s good at chess, but otherwise, he thinks of himself as second-hand, just like all of his things. I'm worried that he may see this as one more way in which he'll never be able to stand out, no matter how silly that thought may be.

“Ron, Harry and I have something we want to tell you,” Ginny began. It occurred to her that this explanation was not getting any easier with practice. “Since we met last week, we’ve been connected somehow. We share memories, thoughts, vision, and all sorts of things. That’s how Harry saw me fly . . . he was watching through my eyes. When I did that roll, he fell in the hallway.”

They waited expectantly for the youngest Weasley brother’s reaction. He stared at them for almost a minute. “Fred put you up to this, right? He’s downstairs turning my bag pink or something, isn’t he?”

What is it with your family and pink? Harry asked.

We have red hair, so we all hate pink. It makes us look like walking sunburns.

“No, Ron,” she said. “We’re being serious. The twins don’t even know about this.”

“You want me to believe that you two can trade memories and stuff? Yeah, right.”

“Do you remember on the train when I asked you about spiders?” Harry asked. “Ginny told me to say that.”

“Yeah, she told you on the platform. So?”

“She didn’t tell me on the platform. I told you that so you wouldn’t ask how I knew you don’t like spiders. She told me right then when I said it.” Harry sighed at Ron’s disbelieving look. “Okay, what about this. When you were five and Ginny was four, the two of you wanted to prank the twins by putting ants in their sock drawer. You scooped up part of an anthill in a jar, but you got bitten a lot when you did it. Then you put the jar in their drawer, but the ants just stayed inside and burrowed around in the dirt you’d gotten in there. The twins just laughed, but you got in trouble for playing with ants and getting bites all over your arms.”

“I’d forgotten all about those stupid ants. Why’d you tell him that, Ginny?”

“I didn’t tell him, Ron,” Ginny said, getting tired of his skepticism. “He remembered it, just like I do.”

“He wasn’t there. How could he remember it?”

“We told you, we share memories. Go ahead and try it. Ask him anything that only I would remember,” she offered.

“Fine.” Ron thought for a moment. “What happened the first time Mum made me help de-gnome the garden?”

Why do they always pick the silly things?

Because you did a lot of silly things?
Harry suggested lightly.

I had fun, that’s all, she insisted. You’d better answer him.

“Ginny was seven, but she was too small to help,” Harry explained. “Your mum caught her letting the gnomes back into the garden while the rest of you were trying to toss them out. Gin said she thought the gnomes were lonely, so she didn’t get into trouble. Mrs. Weasley gave her a plate of biscuits to give to the gnomes outside the garden, but instead she gave them to you and your brothers. While you were eating, the gnomes snuck in again, and you had to start over.”

“You did?” Ron asked, outraged. “We thought it was gnome season or something. It took forever to get them all out.” Again, it took a moment for Ron to realize what had happened. “Bloody hell,” he said slowly.

Ginny felt Harry’s surprise. Ron started saying that after he heard Charlie say it. Mum hasn’t been able to stop him since.

“You two really know all that stuff? Do you remember You-Know-Who, Ginny?” Ron asked excitedly.

“Ron!” Ginny scolded him. “That’s not something you should make us think about. Yes, I remember stupid Voldemort, and I remember Harry’s mum screaming before she died. Does that make you happy?”

“Well, err . . . no, ‘course not,” Ron replied, his eyes widening in fright at the mention of Voldemort’s name. He glanced about the room, avoiding Ginny’s gaze, before his eyes stopped on a family picture by his bedside. “Do Mum and Dad know about this? Mum’ll freak!”

“That’s why we went home last weekend,” she confirmed. “Dumbledore wanted us to tell them.”

“What’d she say?”

“It took a while, but she’s okay with it.”

‘Okay’? I’m not sure I’d call her okay, Harry commented.

She’s learning to accept things, and if it makes Ron happier, I’ll pretend that’s ‘okay’.

Ron thought for another minute then sighed. “It figures. You spend ten years talking about Harry Potter, and in one day you’ve got him in your head.” He glanced at Harry. “Did she tell you that ‘Harry’ was her third word? It came after ‘no’ and ‘cookie’.”

“That’s not true!” Ginny protested. Ron raised an eyebrow at her, and she added, “It was my fifth word, okay? I got ‘mummy’ and ‘dad’ first.”

I really wish they’d all been girls, she complained.

“Is that how you learned to fly, then, Ginny?” Ron asked, looking wise. “He was helping you?”

Harry answered to prevent her from exploding. “It was the other way around, Ron. She showed me how to control the broom before I took off after Malfoy. When you raced, I was just along for the ride. She’s been flying for four years.”

Ron was incredulous. “What? None of us ever showed her how to fly.”

“Just because you lot wouldn’t teach me doesn’t mean I couldn’t learn,” she scoffed. “You might have found out if you’d ever let me play Quidditch with you.”

“We didn’t know you could fly!”

“Did you think I was asking just for the fun of asking? You’re all lousy Chasers unless Charlie’s visiting.” Ginny was irritated. For his part, Harry was amused at Ron’s complete ignorance of his sister’s life. Harry’s quiet mirth kept her from becoming truly angry.

“Hey! I can make goals when I want to,” Ron protested.

“That’s because you’re the only one who wants to play Keeper. You stick with your nice, stationary hoops. I’ll take care of the Quaffle.”

Little harsh, Gin, don’t you think? Harry asked.

It’s his own fault if he never saw what was right under his nose.

“Oh, fine,” Ron retorted. “You found a way to get stuck to Harry Potter, super-Seeker, and now you’re the bloody queen of Quidditch. You should know, Harry,” Ron continued, turning to Harry. “She probably set this whole thing up just to get to you. She’s been talking about you all her life, and she’s smarter than she looks.”

Ginny reached for her wand, but Harry intercepted her hand. That won’t help, he reminded her. Even though Harry knew better, Ron’s accusation stung, and his insulting her appearance was completely uncalled for.

He . . . he has no right! She glared at her brother for a moment, and angry tears came to her eyes. As she fumed, she noticed that tiny wisps of smoke were rising from the carpet beneath her feet, and she knew that if she let Ron say anything else, she might endanger the entire tower. She made a strangled sound of anger and frustration, then sobbed and ran down the staircase, across to the girls’ stairs, and up to her bed.

Harry’s amusement vanished and was replaced with outrage. The curtains in the room billowed madly as he scowled at his friend’s brother. “How could you say that to her? She’s your sister! And she’s a lot nicer than you . . .” He struggled for the most insulting comparison while Ron smirked at him. “You and Percy!” Ron’s face paled suddenly, and Harry pushed on relentlessly. “I hope the rest of her brothers aren’t complete gits like you two.” He stomped out of the dormitory and down to the common room.

Ginny curled up and sobbed into her pillow, saddened by such a callous reaction from the brother she considered to be one of her best friends. Harry wanted to go up to sit with her, but Hermione Granger was reading in her bed nearby and looked up in concern as Ginny burst into the room.

“Ginny, are you alright?” Hermione asked. Ginny looked up to find that the older girl had put down her book and was standing hesitantly a few feet away.

“I’m okay, Hermione, thanks. My brother’s a stupid prat, that’s all,” the younger girl explained.

He’s wrong, Ginny. You know he’s wrong.

Of course he’s wrong!
She screamed in his head. I couldn’t . . . I’d never do that to you!

I know you wouldn’t. And it’s a good thing, remember? Neither of us did anything to the other. It happened, and we like it this way. We don’t have to be ashamed of anything.

I’m not ashamed,
Ginny agreed as her tears slowed.

“Ron, you mean?” At Ginny’s nod, Hermione continued. “He does seem a bit thick, if you don’t mind my saying so.”

“Yeah, that’s Ron. He’s a good brother, really, but he never thinks before he talks. And he either says the worst thing or the best thing, never anything in between.”

“Well, I am sorry he treated you poorly.” Hermione wrung her hands for a moment before adding, “Would you like to look over that History of Magic essay we did?”

“No, thank you.” Hermione’s expression crumbled, and Ginny hastily offered, “Maybe we could do it after dinner?”

Hermione smiled in response. “That would be wonderful.”

“Okay. Do you mind if Harry comes? We wrote our essays together.”

“Alright.”

“Thanks, Hermione. Really,” Ginny said sincerely. She wiped her eyes and went downstairs to join Harry on the sofa. When she sat down, he reached out and took her hand without thinking about it. She sighed as the familiar sense of comfort washed over them.

Thanks, Harry.

Don’t thank me. I feel better, too,
he replied.

Ron’s just so . . . so . . . Ron.

I wanted to use that hex you showed me, but I decided you should get to do it.

That’s not a bad idea.
Ginny considered it for a moment. When she had reached for her wand, she probably would have used that hex, but . . .she shook her head. It’s not really his fault. He’s the youngest of my brothers. I think he feels like everyone always gets good things and does good things before he does. Even I get new things sometimes, like my pajamas, just because I’m a girl.

I saw his room, though,
Harry protested. He has all kinds of neat stuff.

Oh, Harry. Of course he’s got a lot of things compared to you, but he doesn’t know that. All he has to compare himself to is my other brothers, and everything he has was once theirs.


Before Harry could respond, Ron came down the boys’ stairs and approached them, dragging his feet. In spite of her sympathy, Ginny raised her chin and faced her brother defiantly. Meeting her eyes, he squared his shoulders, walked directly towards hers and stopped when he was close enough to ensure privacy.

“I’m sorry, Ginny. I know you didn’t do anything to Harry.” He took a deep breath and then continued, “You’re a really great flyer, Ginny.”

Ginny released Harry’s hand and jumped up to embrace her brother. “Thanks, Ron. I didn’t mean what I said about Quidditch. You’ll be a great Keeper someday. I’m sure of it.” She pulled him down to sit on her side and grabbed one of each boy’s hands.

See? She commented to Harry, happy again. He’s Ron.

Glancing around to make sure that no one else was nearby, Ginny leaned over and whispered to Ron. “Look . . . everything we told you is true. Mum said it’s easiest to think of Harry and me as another set of twins. You know how Fred and George always finish each other’s sentences and everything.”

“Alright, I’ll try that,” he nodded. “Just don’t charm my clothes to sing or anything, okay?”

“Okay. No singing clothes,” Ginny promised.

Her brother frowned for a moment. “So you two really do know everything the other thinks?” he asked hesitantly.

“Yeah.”

“Isn’t that . . . I mean, doesn’t that scare you a little?”

“How do you mean, Ron?” Ginny wondered.

“Well, everybody has thoughts and memories that are silly, or stupid, or embarrassing, right?” Ron observed. “Stuff you wouldn’t want other people to know. But you don’t get to keep those things secret, do you?”

“I guess not,” she replied. “Harry’s heard and seen all kinds of things that were a little embarrassing, and I’ve remembered some things I know he’d rather not share. But it’s different, somehow, than just telling someone about those things.

“Harry knows why I always asked to hear his story at bedtime, and he knows how I felt about it,” she continued. “He doesn’t like that anyone hears his story at all, but he’s not upset with me for being interested in him. I know he’s okay with it, so why should I be embarrassed?”

“I understand that, I guess, but I’m still not sure I’d want someone else in my head,” Ron said.

“Really, Ron, we like it,” Ginny assured him. “It’s comforting, in a way. I know that Harry already knows everything that bothers me, and I know that he won’t make fun of me. If something upsets me, he knows why, and he knows exactly what to do to help. I wouldn’t trade him for the world.”

“Ginny’s a great person,” Harry added quietly.

“Well, I guess it’s good that you like it. But I don’t think I would,” he concluded.

“Ron, there’s one more thing,” Ginny said cautiously. “This connection we have means we have to sleep in the same bed, so I’ve been sneaking up to your room at night. If you hear me make any noise or anything, let us know. We really need you to help us keep this a secret from everyone else.”

Ron looked hesitant. “Mum knows about that too?”

“Mum knows,” she stated. “She set Percy to watching us, and those pajamas I got this morning are charmed so that I can hardly use the loo without permission or alarms.”

“Well, okay then,” Ron agreed, looking relieved. “As long as Mum knows. Just try not to snore too much.”

“I do not snore!” Ginny declared and whacked her brother playfully on the arm.

He nodded solemnly and looked over her head at Harry. “She does, Harry.”

“Yeah, I know, but I’m getting used to it,” Harry replied in mock seriousness.

“Not you, too!” she protested, but she smiled as she whacked Harry in turn.

You do, you know. It’s really quiet, and compared to Ron you might as well be silent.

Fine. I’ll make sure to point out the next time you start rattling the curtains,
she pouted, hiding her smile.

He nodded and then smirked. I have to do that. If I didn’t, someone might hear you.

So it’s all for my sake?

Of course.

Well, that’s entirely different, then.
She raised her nose and said, Carry on.

“You really are talking to each other, aren’t you?” Ron asked. At their nods, he breathed, “Wicked!”

Hermione came down the stairs and found the three friends smiling and talking on the sofa together. “Alright, Ginny?” she asked as she crossed the common room.

“Yes, thanks. Are you going to dinner?” Ginny asked. The older girl nodded. “Do you guys want to go eat now? We’re going to look at that History of Magic essay with Hermione after dinner, Ron.”

“Err . . . okay, I guess,” her brother replied. Ginny strongly suspected that Ron had not yet written his essay.

She turned to her roommate. “Want some company, Hermione?”

“Yes, that would be nice.”

Ginny rose from the sofa and pulled the boys along with her. The four left the common room together, all previous arguments and suspicions put aside for the moment.

After they finished their dinner an hour later, they were talking among themselves when they were interrupted.

“Well, Potter, are they letting you take the train back to London, or are they just tossing you out of the gates? That’s what I’d do,” Malfoy declared.

Turning around, Harry saw Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle hovering over Ron’s shoulder, sneering at them all. “Isn’t it odd that you always show up here with those two lumps trailing along behind you?” Harry asked, waving his hand at Crabbe and Goyle. Then he turned to Ginny. “He must be worried that you’re going to hurt him, Ginny.”

He’s not smart enough for that, she said as she grinned. Neville, sitting with his back to Malfoy, covered a laugh with his hand.

“I’m not afraid of a little girl!” Malfoy barked.

See?

“I’ll fight any of you, any time, on my own,” he continued. “What do you say, Potter? Wizards duel, you and me. Tonight at midnight in the trophy room.”

Don’t, Harry! Ginny warned, but it was too late.

“He’ll be there,” Ron stated. “I’ll be his second. You bring one of those two so Harry can beat them when he’s done with you.”

“Fine,” Malfoy agreed, and then he turned to smirk at Ginny. “You should come along, baby Weasel. I can at least show you how to hold a wand properly.”

As Crabbe and Goyle laughed, Malfoy turned and led the way out of the Great Hall.

Ginny reached across the table to hit her brother on his shoulder. “Ron! Why did you say that? You didn’t give Harry a chance to say no.”

“Of course he wasn’t going to say no. Were you, Harry?” Ron asked confidently.

“Well . . . no, probably not,” he replied. He had not had time to think about it, but now he could not imagine backing down from the hated Slytherin.

“Harry, you can’t really be thinking of dueling him!” Hermione exclaimed. “You’ll get caught, and you’ll lose loads of points. They might even expel you for real.”

Malfoy would never make an offer like that unless he was absolutely sure he would win, Harry, Ginny reasoned with him. If you duel him, he’s not going to do anything but hurt you.

“I don’t care,” Harry responded to both girls. “I’m tired of him being mean to everyone, and if I have a chance to stop him, I’m going to take it.”

Harry, he probably knows some awful curse that nobody else has heard of. You don’t even know how to block a spell!

I can do that Bat Bogey Hex you came up with,
he countered. I’m sure he’s never heard of that.

“I heard what he said to Ginny this afternoon. He deserves it,” Ron agreed.

Just don’t duel him, and you won’t have to worry about it.

No, Ginny. I know you don’t like it, but I can’t let him get away with treating other people the way he does. He’s been saying awful things to you for years, and you shouldn’t have to live with that.

I don’t care! He’s an awful, petty boy with too much money and too little sense. It doesn’t matter what he says.


“That doesn’t mean you should let him get you into trouble,” Hermione protested.

It does matter because it hurts you, and you know it, Harry said. You don’t have to come, but I’m going to be there at midnight.

Thoughts and feelings swirled and shifted in their heads as they walked back to Gryffindor Tower. They both knew that Ginny was right about Malfoy’s intentions, but they both agreed that the blond boy needed to be stopped. Ginny was willing to let Malfoy be mean to avoid getting Harry in trouble, and Harry was more than willing to get in trouble to keep Malfoy from hurting Ginny with his words.

Fine, she agreed at last with a sigh. I don’t think it’s a good idea, but I can’t stop you. I’m going with you. If you get hurt, so help me I’ll hex him myself, and then I’ll hex you too.

Harry knew she was serious, and he resolved to win in any way he could.

Just be careful, Harry. Try to figure out what he’s planning before he does it.

I will, Ginny,
he promised.

The students went to bed at the normal hour that night, and Ginny told Hermione that she was going to try to sleep before midnight. Then she transported over to Harry’s room to be there for Percy’s regular bed-check.

As the two of them settled back to wait until midnight, Ginny glanced over at Harry and noticed a white towel stuffed between their pillows. Oh no! she gasped. Bun-bun!

I’m sorry, Ginny,
Harry consoled her. I didn’t know it wouldn’t stay that way.

Ginny sat up abruptly and picked up Harry’s wand from their nightstand. She placed it firmly in his hand and held the towel in front of his face. Fix him, she insisted.

Harry decided that he would rather not sleep with Ginny in a bad mood, so he obediently muttered “brunesempra”. Bun-bun reappeared in all of his soft pink glory, and Ginny clutched the bunny to her chest happily. Harry realized that he would probably have to cast that spell every night for the foreseeable future.

Yes, you will, Ginny agreed. Harry returned his wand to the table and settled back to wait.

You could cast it yourself, you know, he pointed out.

Of course I could, but it’s your spell, so you should get to cast it.

Like when I wanted to let you cast your own hex on Ron?
he asked, beginning to understand.

Exactly, she confirmed. If we need to cast one of those spells in a hurry, that’s okay, but normally it feels more polite to let you cast your own spell.

Harry had another thought. Do you mind if we put Bun-bun in my trunk during the day? The other guys might ask questions if he’s on my bed.

I guess that’s alright,
she agreed.

At eleven thirty, Ginny went back to her room and descended the stairs to meet Harry and Ron. When she left, Hermione’s curtains were closed and quiet.

“I really wish you wouldn’t do this,” a voice whispered. Glancing around, Harry spotted Hermione sitting in a chair nearby. “You could get hurt, or get in trouble, or anything,” she continued.

“I’m sorry, Hermione,” Harry said gently. “I just can’t let Malfoy get away with behaving the way he does.”

“Why are you going, Ginny?” she asked. “You know it’s not going to turn out well.”

“I’m making sure they don’t do anything stupider than they have to,” Ginny answered. She was still not happy about the upcoming duel, but she would never leave Harry to face it alone.

Ron pulled open the portrait hole, and Harry and Ginny followed him out into the hallway. Stubbornly, Hermione climbed out of the room after them, still trying to dissuade them. “Why don’t you do something else? You could tell the Headmaster, or write a letter to the Board of Governors. We could all write letters!”

“His father is on the Board of Governors,” Ginny muttered sourly.

“Well then . . .” Hermione began, but she stopped as she heard the portrait swing shut behind her. She started to say the password to get back in, but they all noticed that the Fat Lady was missing from her painting. Hermione tugged on it anyway, but it would not move. She turned back to the rest of the group. “Fine. Fine! I’m coming with you. When we get caught, at least I can say I was trying to stop you.”

“I want to come, too.” The voice from the shadows of the hallway made them all jump. Ginny spotted Neville poking his head out of a nearby alcove. “I want to see someone beat Malfoy after he tried to break my Remembrall.”

“Come on, both of you,” Harry agreed. “I don’t want to be late.”

The five of them crept down the maze of hallways to the trophy room on the third floor. When they got there, Harry peered into the room and found it empty. “They’re not here yet,” he announced.

As Hermione opened her mouth, probably to suggest that they all go back to bed, they heard a voice coming from the other side of the trophy room.

“Sniff around, my sweet. They must be here somewhere.” Filch’s voice drifted into the hallway where they hid.

“Run!” whispered Ginny. All five of them raced away down the corridor.

As they ran, Hermione whispered to Harry. “It was a trap, Harry, don’t you see? Malfoy must have told Filch that you’d be there. He never intended to be there at all.”

She’s right, Harry. Ginny was not smug, but she was convinced that Hermione had figured it out.

I know she’s right. You were right. I was stupid, like always, he responded morosely.

You had to try, Harry, and you weren’t stupid. I’ll convince you later.

Ginny, at the front of the group, rounded a corner and faced a dead end with a door set into the wall. She tried to open it, but it was locked.

“Hermione!” she said softly. “Do you know how to do the unlocking charm?” Ginny was certain that if any of them knew a third-year spell, Hermione would.

The older girl tapped the lock and whispered “alohomora!” The lock clicked, and Hermione pulled the door open. All five students rushed through the doorway, and Harry threw himself against the door to close it.

Harry and Ginny both pressed their ears to the door to listen as Filch reached the end of the corridor. “Wouldn’t go in there,” they heard him mutter. “Must have hidden behind one of those tapestries.” The caretaker’s voice receded as he went back down the hall.

Harry felt someone tugging on his robes, and he looked over his shoulder to see Ron yanking on his sleeve and staring further into the room. Following his gaze, Harry found himself looking up, very up, at a huge, three-headed dog.

The monstrous creature was at least ten feet tall, and each of its heads looked large enough to swallow a first year without chewing. Twelve canines the size of kitchen knives gleamed wickedly as it snarled at the intruders. Behind it in a corner was a mountain of old blankets that apparently served the dog as a bed.

“Open the door!” Neville squeaked. Ron pushed Harry away from the door and tugged frantically at it, but it would not budge. Without prompting, Hermione reached past Ron’s shoulder and cast the unlocking charm, but the red-haired boy still could not open it.

“The door’s stuck! Help me pull,” Ron requested.

Ginny turned to watch the giant dog while her friends struggled with the door. “It’s coming this way!” she announced.

We need to distract it so we can get this stupid door open, Harry said.

But how do we distract a giant three-headed dog?

I don’t know. Does it have any chew-toys?

Harry, that’s it! Use Bun-bun!

What?
he asked incredulously.

In the briefest of moments, he understood what she meant. Together, they pointed their wands at the nest of blankets and shouted, “Brunesempra!”

Two of the large blankets at the edge of the pile promptly transformed into three foot tall replicas of Ginny’s new stuffed animal. Harry assumed that the size of the blankets resulted in larger toys.

The appearance of two large pink rabbits caught the dog’s attention. It turned to face its bed, and the left-most head bent down to sink its teeth into the one of the plush animals. The center head was also interested, and it bit into the rabbit where it hung out of the left mouth. The head on the right picked up the second toy and tore into it gleefully. As the dog tore at its toys, Harry and Ginny turned back to the door.

Ron and Neville were tugging on the handle, but it still had not opened. Harry slipped between them to help. “On three, we all pull. One, two, three!”

The boys all heaved at the same time, and the door jerked open, sending them tumbling backwards. Hermione caught the door and held it before it could close again. Ginny helped Harry to his feet, and the five of them scrambled out of the room.

Minutes later, they burst into the common room. They had managed to return to Gryffindor Tower without encountering Filch, Peeves, or anyone else.

“What do they think they’re doing, keeping a ruddy great dog like that in the school?” Ron demanded.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Obviously, the dog was guarding something. Did you fail to notice that we were in the forbidden third floor corridor?”

“Guarding something? Why do you say that?” Ginny asked before Ron could respond. She and Harry had been too focused on distracting the giant canine to notice what it had been standing on.

“It was standing on a trapdoor. There must be something important down there,” Hermione concluded.

I bet it’s the same thing Hagrid took from Gringott’s, Harry added.

“Whatever it is, that dog can keep it,” Ron declared. Neville nodded his agreement. “I wonder what could be dangerous enough to have that thing guarding it?”

“It does not matter!” the bushy-haired girl insisted. “We should not have been down there in the first place.”

“You’re right, Hermione, we shouldn’t,” Ginny placated her. “But we can’t go back and change it, and we were lucky enough to get away with it. You have to admit that it’s a good question. Just to think about, of course.”

“Well . . . I suppose so,” she admitted reluctantly. She turned to address Harry also. “How on earth did you transfigure those blankets into giant stuffed rabbits?”

“I, err . . . I was experimenting with a spell this morning, and that’s what I got,” he admitted truthfully. “I didn’t actually mean to do it that time, but when we needed something to distract the dog, it seemed like a good idea. I told Ginny about it earlier today.”

“You were experimenting with a spell? Harry, that’s dangerous! You could have been killed!”

“Yeah, well, when I made a pink rabbit by accident, I realized that it isn’t a good idea to play around with spells,” he admitted.

Hermione sighed. “I am going to bed. I think I've had quite enough rule-breaking for my lifetime. Are you coming, Ginny?”

“Yeah, it’s too late to try to figure everything out tonight,” Ginny answered, stretching her small frame as she yawned.

I’ll be there in a few minutes, Harry.

Hermione and Ginny climbed the girls’ staircase as Harry, Neville, and Ron went up to their room. Harry climbed into his bed and cast the sticking charm on the curtains. A few minutes later, Ginny appeared in Harry’s bed wearing her new pajamas. She had already used her wand to crop the long sleeves of the pajama top, and she had neatly reattached the cuffs at her elbows.

Mum’s note said the charms were on the buttons, so I took a chance on shortening the sleeves.

The two settled into their usual positions, and Ginny sighed as she relaxed.

I’d never tell Hermione, but that was almost fun, she said.

You mean before or after we thought we’d be eaten?

She smiled against his chest. Both.

I should have listened to you and Hermione, Ginny. I could have gotten us all in big trouble.

We were all there, Harry,
Ginny said soothingly. Even Hermione went along willingly, in her own way.

And now that we’re not running from Filch or escaping a giant dog, you need to understand that you’re not stupid. Sometimes, we all do stupid things for different reasons, but that doesn’t mean that we’re stupid ourselves. When you do something for the right reasons, you may just have to accept that it’s not the smartest thing ever, and then do it anyway.


Harry was still doubtful, but what Ginny said made sense.

That’s what courage is, right? She continued. Knowing that something is stupid or dangerous and doing it anyway because it needs doing. Congratulations, Harry. You’re a Gryffindor.

A whisper came from outside the curtains. “Harry?” It was Ron.

Harry got up and removed the sticking charm and parted the curtains just enough for Ron to stick his head inside. “I thought I heard you sigh, Ginny. How’d you get up here? I was watching the door the whole time.”

Ginny and Harry had forgotten to tell Ron about that part, but at the moment they were much more concerned with being discovered by the other boys. “You heard me?” she asked. “Do you think anyone else did?”

“Nah,” Ron reassured her. “I only noticed because I was listening for you and I know what you sound like. Anybody else would have thought it was Harry if they heard it at all. I’ll let you know if you make too much noise.”

“Oh, good. I’ll show you how I got up here tomorrow, okay?” she offered.

“Yeah, alright. ‘Night guys.”

Ginny smiled at her brother. “Goodnight, Ron. Thanks for looking out for us.” Harry only nodded.

See, Harry? He’s not like Percy, because he’s looking out for us, instead of looking in on us.

Whatever you say, Ginny. I’m just glad he’s not yelling anymore.

That, too,
she agreed.

Ron went back to his bed, and Ginny picked up her wand to reseal the curtains. Just before she cast the spell, Ron poked his head back in.

“You’re sure Mum knows about this sleeping thing?” he asked, knowing it would be odd for his mother to agree to something like that.

“Yes, Ron. Look, here’s the note she sent.” Ginny had slipped the note into the front pocket of her pajama top after reading it the first time, and she pulled it out to show to Ron.

Her brother read it and handed it back to her. “Yeah, that’s Mum,” he agreed reluctantly. “Just . . . don’t do anything weird, okay?”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Fine, Ron, we won’t do anything weird. Harry, I’m sorry, but we can’t have that bogey contest you wanted.” She turned back to her brother and forcefully said, “Goodnight, Ron.”

“’Night.”

Ron went back to his four-poster, and Harry and Ginny settled back onto their bed. She picked up Bun-bun and tucked herself into Harry’s side, clutching the rabbit with her right arm and draping her left across his torso.

Five Gryffindors fell asleep almost simultaneously that night. Somehow, they were all a little closer than they had been one hour before.





A/N: For the purposes of my AU, Bill was born in 1969 and Charlie was born in 1970. This resolves the issue of Charlie's age in canon where the Seeker position is concerned. There were two years between Charlie's last year and Harry's first year.
Reviews 1026
ChapterPrinter
StoryPrinter




../back
‘! Go To Top ‘!

Sink Into Your Eyes is hosted by Grey Media Internet Services. HARRY POTTER, characters, names and related characters are trademarks of Warner Bros. TM & © 2001-2006. Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K.R. Note the opinions on this site are those made by the owners. All stories(fanfiction) are owned by the author and are subject to copyright law under transformative use. Authors on this site take no compensation for their works. This site © 2003-2006 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Special thanks to: Aredhel, Kaz, Michelle, and Jeco for all the hard work on SIYE 1.0 and to Marta for the wonderful artwork.
Featured Artwork © 2003-2006 by Yethro.
Design and code © 2006 by SteveD3(AdminQ)
Additional coding © 2008 by melkior and Bear