CHAPTER TWO:  THE FIRST PEOPLE

8 September 1993

You know what is really nice?  Bill and I can practice our dance routines in the studio that Dad built over the garage now instead of having to move around all of the furniture in the living room and risk mum’s mutterings.

Bill’s teaching me Latin Ballroom dancing now.  He says I’ve got the regular ballroom moves down pat.  He’s also got me practicing some really complex jazz moves for a solo piece I’m working on.

We practice on Sunday afternoons after my ballet classes with Ms. Benchley.  I have an hour of regular ballet instruction, and then ½ hour of Pointe lessons.  She says that as I get used to the Pointe shoes I’ll be able to do it for longer and longer periods of time.  Right now I’m up to thirty minutes.  That’s a definite improvement from when I started.  I was ten, almost eleven when I got my first Point shoes, and I was only able to manage ten minutes at a time.  God but my toes hurt for the first few months.  I almost gave it up.

I absolutely love dancing.  Only when I’m dancing do I feel absolutely free to be myself.  Well, O.K., when I’m dancing and when I’m meditating or calling the elements.

Anyway, now we can practice in the studio over Dad’s garage.  This is a good thing, because Mum doesn’t approve of the jazz or the Latin music.  She says it’s too suggestive.  But she bites her tongue because Dumbledore has given his express permission for me to Floo home for lessons every week.  This isn’t something every student is allowed to do, and I’m not supposed to spread it around, but he’s making an exception in my case and I think it has to do with something he’s cooking up with Bill.

Bill’s got a plan you see.  He wants to open his own dance studio someday.  He says it will be a studio where he can teach witches, wizards andMuggles all together.  He says it will help to ‘bridge the gap’ between the magic and non-magical worlds. 

Dumbledore seems to think it’s an excellent plan, and has given Bill his full support in making the initial arrangements.

First things first though, Bill needs to build up a clientele, and to do that he needs to be known.  You get known in the dancing circles by competing and getting your name out on the dance circuits. Bill has already won some medals as a solo dancer, but he really wants to compete in the ballroom dancing competitions, Latin dancing especially, and he wants me to be his partner.

I told him not to be ridiculous.  I’m only twelve for pity’s sakes, but he said that in four years I’ll be sixteen and old enough to enter the adult competitions and that it will take him at least that long to save up enough to start his studio anyway, and that he couldn’t think of anyone else he’d rather dance with.

That was really nice of him to say, but I watch Bill and he’s so smooth!  He comes across as incredibly masculine and, well, sexy.  I don’t see how I’ll ever live up to his expectations or be a credit to him, but oddly enough, when I mentioned Bill’s dream (well the part about the dance studio) to Ms. Benchley, she asked to see one of our routines.

So today after my regular lesson, Bill and I did one of our regular ballroom numbers for her, and then I did one of the solo jazz pieces I’d worked on last year.

Ms. Benchley was in absolute amazement.  She said that it was a fantastic idea, and that she thought I’d make Bill an excellent partner.

I have to admit that I find the idea of helping Bill with his studio to be an appealing idea, much more so than Mum’s assumption that I’ll go into healing.  She keeps talking about it as if it’s a given, but I honestly don’t think that I have the patience to be a healer. I mean, I feel sorry for people who get hurt and all, but I just can’t see myself fixing people day after day after day.  Boring! And I definitelydon’t want to be a teacher, which is Mum’s second choice for me.  I know just how obnoxious kids can be — I am one!  I go to school with hundreds of them.  I’d loose my temper so fast that it wouldn’t even be funny.  The poor kids would probably be scarred for life.  I’ve got years to decide, though, and I don’t even pick my supplemental courses until the end of this year.

Anyway, I met with Dumbledore before I Flooed back to the Burrow.  He sort of raised an eyebrow when I showed him the list of questions I’d drawn up about Elemental Magic, but he was very patient and explained everything as best he could.  I’ve written everything he told me down in my own ‘Book of Shadows,’ the one he gave me the first night back.

One of the items on my list was finding a place where I could practice calling the elements without all of Gryffindor finding out about it.  Dumbledore actually chuckled and told me that he’d talk to Hagrid about finding a suitable spot.

He also walked me through ‘drawing down the sphere, which is a process which creates an invisible, soundproof bubble in which I can meditate without getting distracted or being disturbed. It doesn’t make me invisible, so Dumbledore warned me that if I use it in my dorm room or in the common room I’d probably get some funny looks. 

He got a good chuckle over the incident with the lightning and seemed highly amused when I related what Harry had jokingly said about my towering temper having caused the storm.

Just as I was about to step into the fireplace he said something that is going to haunt me for the rest of my life.

“Don’t give up on him, Ms. Weasley.”

“Sir?”

“I know it may seem unfair to you right now, that he’s still getting to pretend that he’s just a normal boy, but there will come a day when he’s ready to listen to his heart.  When he does, he’ll find you already there.”

I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes.

“You’re right, it’s not fair,” I said finally.

“I’m not asking you to put your life on hold.  Have fun.  Make friends.  Date other boys.  It could be years before he comes around, but I have a disturbing premonition that before all of this is over he will need you,” Dumbledore paused and wiped surreptitiously at his eyes.  “In fact, you may be the only one who will be able to give him what he will need in order to make it through this.”

I’m not entirely certain as to what he meant by all of that, but oddly enough, it gave me hope.

September 18th

Professor Dumbledore was as good as his word.  Last Sunday he let me know that he had spoken to Hagrid and that Hagrid knew of a place where I could practice calling forth the elements and conduct the monthly renewal.  I’m supposed to meet Hagrid at his hut tonight after supper.  I’ve been given special permission to be out after curfew. 

I’m very excited.  I miss them already (the elements I mean) seeing as that I haven’t felt them properly since our first night back when Mandy nearly found me out.  That was something else Gran’s journal said.  Gran wrote about how, after she had become practiced in calling the elements, that the next step had been to learn to call them subtly.  There’s nothing different about it, about the calling.  It just involves lots and lots of practice and a determined focus of will.  Once one has learned to call the elements subtly, you can call them anywhere — even in a room full of people — and they will come, and no one else will be any the wiser.

Gran also mentioned that it took her three years to control her emotions to the point that she could call the elements subtly.  Three years?  I’ll be fifteen in three years! 

Gran noted all sorts of things in her journal.  One was about what she actually did with the elements once she had learned to call and control them (which took her many years).  She did big things, like saving people from certain death and bringing rain or sun when it was needed, but also smaller things, like finding her daughter’s lost cat and arranging it so that her flower garden became the most lush and well-known in the district and (I got a laugh out of this one) keeping her hair curled.

Anyway, I remembered what Dad had said this past summer, about only calling on the elementals for help when you really needed them, so I asked Professor Dumbledore and he said that what Dad told me is a commonly held belief which is encouraged by the Ministry because it keeps the average witch or wizard from becoming too curious about Elemental Magic.  Anyway, I’ve dallied long enough.  It’s almost time to go meet Hagrid.

Hagrid Answered Ginny’s knock almost at once.

“Hello, Ginny.  Would ya like ta come in, or go right to the spot I’ve picked for yeh?”

“Would you mind if we just — went?” she smiled up at him apologetically.

Hagrid grinned down at her.

“Cor, but ye remind me of Lily,” he said with a deep, grumbling chuckle.

“Lily?”

“Yeah.  Lily Potter, Harry’s mum.”

Ginny felt her smile fade a bit.

“W-why would you say that, Hagrid?”

Hagrid shrugged into his moleskin overcoat, picked up his crossbow and closed the door of his hut behind him.

“Yeh just do is all.”  He looked sideways at her and grinned.  “Spect it’s the independent streak in yeh, not just the looks.  The place I’m takin yeh, see, it was a favorite haunt of Lily’s.”

“Was she, was she a-”

“Nope.  At least not that I knows of.”

Hagrid took Ginny’s small hand in his massive one and patted it gently.  “There was just times she liked to be alone.  Spect you can understand that right enough.”

He was leading her along the edge of the forest now, past the paddock where the Care of Magical Creatures classes had their lessons.

“First time I found her there nearly scared me to death!”

“Found her where?”

They had come to a stop in front of a massive oak tree.  Ginny stared up into its branches, entranced.  She’d never seen any tree so big in her entire life.  Four Hagrids couldn’t have spanned the tree even with their arms outstretched.

So old.

“Ye need to see this first,” said Hagrid.  He tugged Ginny around the massive tree’s trunk.  “What do you see?”

Ginny looked around her.  It looked like an average forest (except for the giant oak’s impossible size) with dead leaves and needles, scrubby underbrush and small saplings.  A stiff breeze blew through the branches making Ginny shiver and pull her cloak tighter around her.

“I see trees, leaves, scrub brush . . .”Ginny shrugged.

“Right then, now come with me.”  Hagrid pulled her back to the front of the tree.

“Hagrid?”

“Hush now,” said Hagrid, “and watch.”

He reached out a huge hand and delicately touched a gnarled knot just above and to the left of Ginny’s head and then, grasping Ginny firmly by the wrist, he walked face first into the massive oak’s trunk, or would have if they hadn’t passed smoothly through it instead.

Ginny blinked.  They had emerged not into the woods she had seen behind the oak, but into a moonlit dappled clearing where the grass was thick and springy and the very air seemed to sparkle with power and anticipation.

“Where are we?” she breathed.

“This is a special place, Ginny.  It is protected by very old magic.  Have you ever heard of the First People?”

Ginny nodded, still staring around her.  The First People were just that, those who had come first.  There were stories about them, legends, even a few artifacts in the shape of standing stones and ancient ruins. 

It was said that the First People were powerfully magical that, for all intents and purposes they were magic.  Wizard kind may have worked magic through the use of wands and spells and potions, but it was said that the First people lived and breathed magic, that it was a part of their very souls.

There were those who believed that the First People were the reason for the existence of wizards, that wizarding kind was born when the First People had mated with humans and that, when they realized that the offspring of their unions with humans had a good bit of magical potential, that the First People had devised ways for those half-bloods to reach their potential; wands, spells, potions, divination tools.

Looking around her Ginny could believe that it was all true.

The clearing was perfectly circular.  Her best guess was that it was approximately one quarter of a mile wide.  The surrounding trees all grew up to the edge of the circle and then just — stopped — as if they had hit an invisible barrier.

In the very center of the clearing was a circle of standing stones which enclosed a hard-packed dirt area about twenty feet in diameter.  In the middle of this dirt enclosure was what would have been a perfectly spherical boulder if its top hadn’t been as flat as a tabletop.

Each of the standing stones (most of which were nearly as tall as Hagrid) were covered, top to bottom, with odd, runic looking script and bizarre symbols.  The only stone that was completely blemish free was the spherical table stone in the center.

“Wow!” Ginny breathed at last.

“Yeah,” said Hagrid.  “Amazin, isn’t it?  I tell you, the first time I found Lily here — nearly scared me out of my skin.”

“How on earth did you find it?”

“Accident, actually.  I was throwin sticks for Growler te fetch.”

“Growler?”

“Yeah, that was Fang’s mum.  Anyway, I threw a stick and it musta hit the knot, cause it sailed right into the oak.  Growler went boundin in after it.  She just diasappeared like.  Scared me nearly to death.  Well, I finally figured out the knot part, then went in after her.  What else could I do?  Found Lily, with her back against that there stone in the middle with Growler’s head in her lap.  Both of them looked really peaceful, almost dreamy.”

“But how did Lily find this place?”

“Dunno.  Never asked her.  Figured it was her business after all.”

“So how do you know it has anything to do with the first people?”

“I can smell it,” said Hagrid seriously.  “Sorta like when you take a quilt or a cloak out of a cedar cupboard.  The scent lingers like, very distinctive.”

“Does anyone else know about this place?” asked Ginny interestedly.

“Just me ‘n Dumbledore, an now you.”

“Unless Lily told someone.”

“I doubt it.  She may have been popular an all of that, but she was a loner in here where it really counts.”  Hagrid tapped his massive chest.

He was wrong though.  Ginny knew it.  Lily would have brought James here.  It was too perfect not to use.  Heaven knew if she had a steady boyfriend she’d bring him here.  She couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across her face as she wondered if she would ever have the opportunity to bring Harry here.  Like father like son?

“Did Professor Dumbledore tell you why I needed to find a place to be alone?” asked Ginny tentatively.

“Nope.  Just asked me to find ye somthin.  Oh yeah, forgot to tell ye, he also said that yer welcome to come down here anytime you want durin daylight, but that if ye plan to come down here after dark, to make certain ye let me know so’s I can escort ye here and back.  Lots of wild stuff in the forest.  Don’t want ye getting kidnapped by brownies now, do we?”

Not to mention running into Sirius Black, though Ginny grimly.

“And I’m taking it that I’m supposed to stay inside the circle?”

“Blimey!  That was the most important bit!” said Hagrid, clapping a massive hand to his head.  “The forest is enchanted ye see.  It’s one of the oldest bits of wild land in Britain. It’s two forests really, the forest that belongs to the First People, and the other one, the one we see everyday.  Bits of it, like this clearing here, are in both worlds at the same time.  There’s powerful protection charms on circles like these.  Its possible somethin or someone could stumble across this clearing, like me and Growler did, but once their in the circle they couldn’t hurt you even if they wanted to.

“The tree circle, or the stone circle?”

“Either.  Both.  But especially the stone circle.  How long do ye think ye’ll be?”

“I don’t know, a couple of hours maybe?”

“Tell ye what.  I’ll come back for ye at midnight.”

Hagrid gave her a smile and then disappeared into the oak.

19 September 1993

They came!  I was afraid they wouldn’t.  I was afraid that it had all been a mistake, a one-time piece of accidental magic.  I needn’t have worried.  I called them and they came, just like that, no offering or sacrifice needed. 

I wasn’t at all certain what I was supposed to do with them once they had arrived, but if felt good to just let them fill me up, like they did before when I called them at the Burrow.  They stayed longer this time, and instead of one mixed whirlwind of feeling I could feel, almost seem them separately this time.  I still think air is my favorite.

Finally they faded back into the void — all except for one sparkly bit hanging directly over the flat-toped sphere.  At first I thought it was residual elemental power like I’d seen in my room the first couple of days after the first time that I called them.  But it didn’t take long for me to realize that this was nothing like residual elemental power.  In fact, it was like nothing I’d ever seen before in my life.

For one thing, it started to change, to coalesce until there was the unmistakable form of a woman sitting cross-legged on top of the spherical table.  At first I thought that she must be a ghost because she sort of glittered.  But when she unfolded her legs and hopped off the table I knew she had to be real because in the next moment she had taken me by the wrists and had pulled me to my feet.  A ghost can’t do that.

“What are you?” I asked, staring at her gape-mouthed.

She threw back her head and laughed and her laughter was rich and melodic and, well, familiarsomehow.

“I’m as real as you are if that’s what you’re wondering,” she said pleasantly.  Her voice was pleasant, soothing.  It put me in mind of smooth, golden-brown honey and I found myself liking her instantly.  There was nothing to not like.  The way she moved was graceful, poised, as if she too were a dancer.  I tell you, I felt a sudden affinity for this woman whom I’d never seen before in my life.

She was a very pretty woman, probably in her early thirties (to judge from the tiny lines around her eyes and mouth) and she had long, luxuriant hair that rippled and shone in the moonlight.  It was impossible, however, to tell its exact color.  She was dressed in a loose tunic and leggings that looked at once both timeless and comfortable.

“Whoare you then.”

“You may call me Mira.  But a more appropriate question would be why am I here?”

“O.K. then, why are you here?”

“To be your guide,” said the woman simply.  She leapt lightly to the top of the spherical table and spread her arms out to the heavens and called, “come to me!”

The response was immediate.  The elemental powers flooded the clearing, swirling about us until Mira, her arms still outstretched, turned her palms down and lowered her arms to her sides.  The swirling vortex immediately slowed to a gentle breeze full of sparkles and shimmers.  I could still feel the crackle of power in the air, that was unmistakable, but it wasn’t as visible as it had been.

In quick succession she showed me how to calm the initial rush of power when one invokes the elements so that it isn’t visible to those around you.  She also told me that while the motions are not completely necessary, they can help to focus one’s mind on what one is doing.   She instructed me to practice calling them and to practice adjusting the power level and that next time she’d show me how to call them silently.

I tried it and turning down the level doesn’t stop the rush of power inside.  Mira warned me that I’ll have to learn to control my facial expressions and body language.

She was just about to demonstrate the silent summons when Hagrid stuck his head through the oak.  As soon as his head appeared, Mira dissolved into a cloud of sparkling dust which dissipated quickly.

“Blimey, Ginny, what was that?” he asked bluntly as he pulled the rest of his massive body through the oak’s trunk.

I told him that I wasn’t entirely certain, but that she had seemed to want to help me.

“Might have been an old one,” he said with something like awe in his voice.  “They appear sometimes ye know, when they take a likin to someone or they feel someone’s in need of help, specially in places like this.  Mind you, I thought it was just a legend, but if what I saw was real . . .”

Hagrid walked me back up to the castle.  It was near to one in the morning before I dropped into bed.  I’m going to be exhausted tomorrow, but it was worth it!

10 October 1993

O.K.  It’s official!  Professor Lupin is not only an excellent Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher he is also way cool!  The way he put Snape in his place today nearly knocked my socks off!

I mean, everyone knows now about Neville’s boggart turning into Professor Snape and how he got the better of it by forcing it to dress up in his grandmother’s clothes.  Well, a couple of weeks back, Professor Snape filled in for Professor Lupin (who was ill).  Snape had assigned us a whole role of parchment on ‘moon magic’. 

Snape came into class today to turn in the graded essays and his marks, to Professor Lupin. 

“Really, Severus, moon magic?” asked Lupin good naturedly as Snape stalked about handing out the graded work.  “Don’t you think that’s a bit — advanced — for second years?”

“They need to be prepared!” snapped Snape.

“For what, tidal surges?” retorted Lupin.

Snape looked livid, but his voice, when he spoke, was dangerously soft and icy cold.

“I’d be careful if I were you, Professor.”

“Yes indeed, can’t make myself look ridiculous in front of the students now, can I Severus?”

The reference to the boggart was not lost on us.  Snape was no sooner out of the room than the entire class burst out laughing.

I don’t know what sort of history Snape and Lupin share, but there is obviously some bad blood between them.  You can see it in the way they look at each other.

And speaking of Snape, I’ve been trying to avoid him as much as possible ever since I locked eyes with him during the first potions class of the year.  I usually avoid eye contact with that git.  He makes me feel unclean.  I always thought it had something to do with his greasy hair and skin, but this time I couldn’t avoid it.  Our gazes locked and I couldn’t tear my gaze away.

It was the contradiction of his very existence that had me stunned.  The man is pure, unadulterated evil and absolute goodness all at the same time!  It’s almost as if he were a chameleon who can change his core essence at will, meld himself to become exactly what a person wants or expects him to be.  He is absolutely honest, but can lie like a son of a bitch when the occasion calls for it.

Is there such a thing as an emotional shape shifter?  I tell you, the man scares me!  He shouldn’t exist!

Strangely enough, I found Professor Lupin to be equally confusing, but nearly as disturbing. Professor Lupin has a rock solid core of goodness with an equally strong core of potential evil, but this wasn’t the usual evil one finds in most humans.  This  was a natural sort of evil, sort of like an instinctive or natural behavior that is perpetually threatening to rise up and take control.  And, like Bill, he’s selectively honest. I know, I know, it’s like totally confusing, but it’s the best I can do.

16 October 1993

I’ve been to the clearing behind the oak six times since the last full moon.  It’s a great place to practice the things Mira taught me.  But tonight is the only time that Mira has put in an appearance since the last full moon.

To be perfectly honest, I was relieved to see her.  I had a million questions to ask, not the least of which was why she hadn’t come before this.  Her answer confirmed what I suspected; first, that her magic is more powerful at night and second, that the full moon makes it easier for her to breach the barrier between our worlds.

She wouldn’t go into specifics about this, but I have no reason to not believe her and I detect no malice in her.  She is another of those people, like my father and Bill who has a deeply buried vein of evil, the potential, the ability is there, but she’s buried it so deep that it hardly matters.  But there is something beyond that.  I know her.  I realize that sounds strange, but it’s true! 

She had me calling up the elements again and demonstrated the silent summons.  This is way cool, because if you control the power levels correctly, no one will have a clue as to what you have done!  I can see how this could be very disturbing to the Ministry; someone having all that power at their fingertips and the Ministry not only unable to do anything about it, but not realizing that they are facing a potential threat.

Hagrid got a better look at Mira than he did last time and told me that she looked rather familiar.

“I’ve seen her before Ginny, I know it!” he insisted, and he made me promise to tell Dumbledore about her, which I was planning on doing anyway. 

17 October 1993

Mandy got all “Noble” and reported to the 5th year prefect that I’d been out of bed last night.  She told me that she did it because she was “concerned” but I think she was jealous.  I know that she was deeply disappointed when Anjie told her that I had permission from the Headmaster himself.  Too bad Mandy. 

You know, I never thought of it this way but being tuned in to Harry like I am is almost like getting a second education.  I get to sit through all his classes as well as mine, makes life interesting when I’m taking quizzes though, or notes.  If I’m not concentrating on my own work I tend to write down what Harry’s hearing or writing.  I caught myself writing down potion ingredients in Professor Binns’s class yesterday.  Not good.

The real education, however, has been in the finer points of the male anatomy.

Now don’t get me wrong.  I have six older brothers, so I’ve seen plenty of naked men.  But how many other girls at Hogwarts would be able to tell you the physical attributes of nearly every male in Gryffindor house?  For example; Seamus Finnegan is (to put it bluntly) quite well-endowed for a thirteen year old and Mitchell Andrews, the good looking sixth year who nearly every girl my age or older drools over, is tiny by comparison!

I swear, guys have absolutely no sense of modesty!  They walk around their dorms in towels or skivvies or nothing at all, as unconcerned as you please.  I may see Mandy or Lisa in their bra and knickers, but they don’t normally go lounging about in them.  I may catch a glimpse of Hermione or Parvati naked in the shower, but they don’t walk around their dorm starkers.

Harry seems to be the odd fish out in this case.  He doesn’t feel comfortable being naked in front of the other guys and is always quick to be dressed.  Of course he wasn’t quick enough to stop me from getting an eyeful of Oliver in the showers in the Quidditch locker room the other day.  Not that was a sight plenty of girls would have paid dearly to see.

Of course Harry wasn’t paying Oliver’s body any mind (seeing as that Oliver’s mouth was bawling out the entire team for a lousy practice).  I didnotice, however, that Angelina, Katie and Alicia were paying very close attention ineed, although whether they actually heard a word he said or not is debatable, and who could blame them?  I was rather distracted myself, even if I am, by comparison, just a kid.

Harry’s modesty stems from living with his cousin, who is a real ‘let it hang loose’ sort of guy, which of course spurred Harry to be just the opposite, which is probably why I’ve never seen Harry’s body in it’s entirety.  He doesn’t give it much thought really, and while I catch glimpses he’s not one to, say, stand in front of a full length mirror.  I’m not certain if this is a good thing or a bad thing.

Another thing about adolescent guys is that they do a good bit of talking about girls’ anatomical bits and what they’d like to be doing with them and what they’ve heard that can be done with them, but they talk a lot more about Quidditch and football and Zonko’s latest merchandise.  At least the guys in Harry’s dorm do.

Harry talks with the best of them about Quidditch and classes, but when it comes to girls he sits back and listens and lets Seamus and Dean do most of the talking.  He seemed rather startled when Seamus claimed to have ‘done it’ (his words) with a fourth year Hufflepuff girl.  I noticed that Dean and Neville and even Ron were hanging on his every word as he went into sordid detail.  Seems kind of cheap, actually, to talk about it with your mates like that.

Damn.  I just thought of something.  What if I have to watch Harry ‘do it’ with some other girl?  I think I’d die, I really do.  Is that going to be a part of his being a ‘normal’ boy?

31 October 1993

This is going to be difficult.  Do you realize that today is the one-year anniversary of my first being possessed by Tom Riddle?  Talk about traumatic memories!  Imagine, if you will, waking up to find that the entire evening was just — gone!  Imagine waking up to find that Mrs. Norris had been attacked and to see the words written on the wall, and then to pull your robes out of the laundry and find them covered in paint?

There had been brief episodes before that night, fifteen minutes here or half an hour there (probably when I was killing the roosters for I’d usually wake up to find myself out on the grounds).  Being as overwhelmed with classes and everything, I thought I just must be falling asleep or something.

But after Halloween I knew that something had happened and when all the uproar was made about the attack on Mrs. Norris and the message left on the wall, I knew that somehow my missing hours had to be involved.

Call me stupid if you will, but I didn’t make the connection between the diary and my missing time until after Colin was attacked.  God I felt so guilty about Colin!  He’d never been anything but nice to me.  I’d look at his empty seat in Charms and begin to cry.

By that time I was so scared I could barely see straight!  What was happening to me?  I wrote those words over and over again in Tom’s diary.  God how he must have enjoyed my pain! 

Ginny slipped her journal, quill and ink back into her bag and rested her forehead against the common room window.  A miserable day to walk into Hogsmeade, sure, but that didn’t change the fact that she wished she were able to go to!  Instead she was stuck inside with all the other first and second years.  A group of them, her roommates included, were giggling uncontrollably by the fire and sending pointed looks towards a group of second year boys playing gobstones on a low table near the portrait hole. Immature gits! She pulled a face and turned back to the window. The sky was slate gray, threatening rain, and she knew it was cold from the way her breath fogged up the window.  Gray and dreary, exactly the way she felt. 

Ginny grinned suddenly.  It couldn’t be that simple!  Closing her eyes, she concentrated on Harry.  Yes, there he was.  He was having a cup of tea with Professor Lupin in Lupin’s office. 

She let herself feel what Harry was feeling; the smoothness of the porcalin cup in his hands, the fragrant steam snaking its way up from the cup, the way he and Professor Lupin had fallen into such easy conversation.

Ginny’s grin broadened as the familiar sensation of wholeness stole into her being.  God it felt so good, so right to be close to him like this, even if he didn’t have a clue. Ginny opened her eyes to see the clouds beginning to roll back to make room for a hesitant October afternoon sun.

“Wow!” she breathed.

When Harry climbed through the portrait hole ten minutes later Ginny was curled up with a novel Lisa had loaned her.  He still looked a bit out of sorts.  She couldn’t blame him, he seemed to be the only third year who hadn’t gone into Hogsmeade.  She knew why of course; his Aunt and Uncle had never signed the form because he’d run away from home.

Harry sat in an armchair by the fire for the longest time just staring absent mindedly into the flames.  Ginny was tempted to go say something to distract him, but hesitated.  She didn’t want him thinking she couldn’t stay away from him or that she was looking for attention. When Ron and Hermione swept in half an hour later all pink from the cold air and showered Harry with sweets and joke shop merchandise, Ginny felt a definite twinge of jealously. How come Ron, her own brother had brought Harry stuff, but hadn’t thought to bring her so much as a cockroach cluster? But in the next moment Fred and George had breezed in and were swinging a bag of Honeyduke’s sweets in her face.

“Can’t have our favorite sister moping ‘cause she didn’t get to go to Hogsmeade,” said George, grinning at her.”

“I’m not moping.”

“Well you’re not exactly a singing daisy now, are you?” said Fred.

“A singing what?”

“Professor Sprout’s latest crossbreed,” explained George.  “She had us repotting them in Herbology yesterday.  Nasty, shrill, singing things, she says they’re cute!” he said, sounding disgusted.

“It’s not all candy though,” warned Fred, rustling the bag.  “Some Zonko’s stuff, too.”

“Percy didn’t think you’d be interested, what with you being a girl and all,” said George sadly.

“What, in candy?”

“No, the Zonko’s stuff,” said Fred.  “He seemed to think you’d be too — sensitive — to appreciate it.”

Ginny snorted.

“But we know you’re made of sterner stuff than the average female,” said George, dropping her a broad wink.  “So use it well and make us proud, yeah?”

They were gone then, and a moment later Ginny could hear them giving someone a hard time on the stairway up to the boys’ dorms.  She grinned to herself as she rummaged through the bag.

“Cool!” she said appreciatively as she pulled out several no-heat, wet-start Filibuster fireworks, half a dozen dungbombs and a fanged Frisbee in addition to a wide variety of Honeyduke’s sweets.

She’d been feeling rather sorry for herself all day, what with Ron not paying her even an iota of attention and then him bringing Harry all those sweets and stuff but not giving her so much as Peppermint Toad “Git!” she whispered to herself as she opened a Chocolate Frog.  “Go ahead and play with your friends, Ronnikins, you’ll regret ignoring me one day, I guarantee it!” she whispered and fingered the dungbombs lovingly.

The Halloween feast was spectacular as always.  There was live entertainment and clouds of live bats (which always made Ginny cringe inside, though she tried not to show it) and huge carved jack-o-lanterns hovering above the tables, but something wasn’t right.  She could feel it, like a splinter in her brain, prickling at her consciousness with an indefinable feeling of dread.

1 NOVEMBER 1993

Now that was seriously creepy!  We, all the students from all four of the houses, spent the night in the Great Hall last night because someone attacked the Fat Lady’s Portrait.  Peeves claims that it was Sirius Black, and since he has no reason to lie (especially to the headmaster) I have to believe him.  But how on earth did he get in? 

Anyway, we were all herded down to the Great Hall and Professor Dumbledore conjured us sleeping bags and then he and the other teachers went out to search the castle.  We weren’t allowed back into Gryffindor tower until this morning.

I think Percy was a little disappointed when things calmed down, he loves being in charge.  He’s very ambitious, Percy. 

I’m certain that the teachers think that Black was trying to break into Gryffindor tower to get at Harry, but something about that assumption doesn’t sit right with me. I mean, how could he not know that it was Halloween?  Wouldn’t the noise in the Great Hall be a dead giveaway?  Hogwarts feasts aren’t known for their quietness.  Perhaps he was trying to get into Gryffindor tower to curse something of Harry’s, but that sort of subtlety doesn’t fit the personality of a man who blasted a whole street of people to kill Peter Pettigrew.  Why didn’t he just burst into the Great Hall and kill Harry, unless of course it’s not Harry he’s after, but something or someone else entirely?

7 November 1993

If Harry ever does that to me again I’ll kill him myself!  Scared me half to death that did.  I thought he was dead!  He might have beenkilled if Dumbledore hadn’t stepped in and waved his wand like that, slowing Harry’s fall.  And he got rid of the Dementors (there had to be over a hundred of them) with just one spell!  I was too far away to hear what he said, but a huge silver bird erupted out of the end of his wand (I think it may have been a phoenix) and charged the Dementors down.  They took off like great flapping bats.  Ugh. 

You know what makes me feel the worst?  I saw it all happen and I didn’t do a thing!  I couldn’t move.  I couldn’t think.  All those Dementors, the icy darkness filled my mind, and then I was reliving the night that Tom forced himself into my mind, but at the same time I was falling through a thick white mist, Harry’s mum’s cries for mercy ringing in my ears.

I could have done something to protect Harry and I froze!  That must never happen again.  I guess there’s a lot more to be a Natural Elemental than I thought.  I have to learn how to control them, how to use them.

Hufflepuff  won by the way.  Diggory caught the Snitch just as Harry fell.  It was a fair win, but that just added insult to injury because it was the first game Harry has ever lost!  And he lost his broom.  It got torn apart by the Whomping Willow.  Nasty bit of business, that, and it doesn’t like to be touched.  Anything that comes too close gets, well, whomped.  Harry’s Nimbus never stood a chance.

He’s been up in the hospital wing all day.  I know it’s not because he’s hurt physically.  He’s scared.  He’s scared of the way he lost control.  He’s embarrassed that everyone else saw him loose control and he’s humiliated by losing a game.  He’s so deep into his self-pity that nothing I say seems to be getting through at all and he won’t let Madam Pomfrey throw away what’s left of his Nimbus. At the rate he’s going he’ll be in there for the rest of the weekend. 

I spent this evening making Harry a get-well card.  It’s quite nice, tasteful, nothing fancy.  Nothing that will make him think I’m looking for attention or anything. 

Colin says I need to spice it up a little, perhaps add a singing charm or add feet so it can do a tap dance.  Colin means well, but he’s a geek.  A nice gee, but a geek nonetheless.

8 November 1993

I’m going to kill Colin!  The idiot must have added the singing charm when I wasn’t looking!  I go in to see Harry, and he’s actually being friendly and we’re actually talking like normal people and then he opens the card and the damn thing begins to sing!

I didn’t need to be able to read his mind, the look on his face said it all.  It was the stupid singing Cupid all over again (curse Fred and George for making me send that when I lost the bet!)  It doesn’t matter that it was Colin that added the charm and that I had nothing to do with the fact that the damned thing won’t shut up now unless you put something heavy on it.  It still points to me and says “See?  She likes you, and she’s too klutzy to even show it properly!” The damned Weasley complexion won out.  I blushed crimson and beat a hasty retreat.

I wish I could just sit Harry down and explain to him that it’s different now, that I’m not just looking for attention anymore, that I truly care about him, but that would take a lot of explaining.  A lot of explaining about things I’m not ready to discuss yet.  Even if I could, how would I possibly start?

“Oh yeah, by the way, Harry, I used to have the biggest crush on you, but ever since you saved my life in the Chamber of Secrets I’ve been able to get inside your head and I’ve come to see you as a real person, not just as a hero, but instead of killing any feelings I had towards you, its actually deepened them until I think I just might be falling in love with you and oh yeah, Dumbledore let it slip that he thinks you and I might be Soulmates.”

I’m certain that would go over like a ton of bricks.  Poor Harry would probably never be able to look me in the eye ever again.

No.  Much better to trust Dumbledore that it will all work out in the end.