27. Fear
Harry flew down to Hagrid’s hut. The grounds were dark; he
could see the
“Yer got me note then?” Hagrid whispered.
“Yeah,” Harry answered, not quite sure why they were whispering.
“I don’t know what Ginny were thinkin’!”
rasped Hagrid exasperatedly. “Wanderin’
out in the dark like that and close to the Forbidden Forest. I know the
old danger’s past but that
“She’s inside now, right?” Harry asked. “And why are we whispering?”
“She told me not to tell you she were here,” Hagrid looked regretfully at Harry as he gave away his secret. Harry didn’t know if it was regret that Ginny hadn’t wanted Harry or regret for breaking the confidence.
“But you sent
“I come down after th’ feast and
were just putterin’ about, getting’ ready fer classes termorrer,” explained
Hagrid. “Sent Crookshanks up ter Hermione. Dora starts scratchin’
the door and
“There were th’ softest knock a’ me door and Ginny wa’ there. Shakin’ something dreadful she were. ‘Jus’ wanted to see Dora’ she says. I told her she were right reckless and tha’ she had bes’ get back to th’ castle but she looked at me with them eyes o’ hers …” Harry knew exactly what Hagrid meant. He was unable to resist Ginny anything if she put her mind and eyes to it.
“ ‘Don’ send me away’ she says. ‘I
jus’ want ter see Dora.’ I told ‘er I’d send fer yer to take ‘er back after she saw Dora and she all but begged me not
to,” Hagrid continued. “But she were dreadful pale and
shakin’ like a leaf so I told ‘er
I was goin’ to check th’ Thestrals and
“Yeah, I reckon she is,” murmured Harry. He pressed a hand to the still closed door, anxious to see Ginny and hesitant about what he would find when he opened it.
“Don’ tell ‘er I sent fer yer,” Hagrid finished in a hoarse whisper. Harry shook his head as Hagrid melted back into the shadows.
Harry pushed the door open slowly. Ginny was huddled in front of a roaring fire, shivering in spite of the warmth coming from the flames licking the sides of the fireplace. Dora, with her head on her paws and snoring softly, was curled up at Ginny’s feet.
Harry considered Ginny for a moment before closing the door with a soft click. He knew, even though she didn’t move a muscle; that Ginny could tell he was there. Lately the two of them always knew when the other was in the room. Harry could often smell Ginny but he had also learned to distinguish her footsteps from those of others. His physical senses seemed to seek her out. Harry had noticed recently that he was starting to turn in her direction when she entered a room and follow her around like a sunflower following the sun. He didn’t mean to do it and he didn’t know how he knew where she was without thinking about it. At first Harry thought it was something magical; but this was beyond incantations. It had nothing to do with magic and everything to do with love.
“Hey Ginny,” Harry said as he moved into the room, shedding his robes. The slight temperature change left him shivering slightly in his shirtsleeves until he moved closer to the fireplace. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” she said softly. Harry did not believe her. “I told Hagrid not to send for you.”
“He didn’t,” protested Harry softly. Ginny snorted.
“You are a terrible liar, Harry Potter.”
“So are you,” whispered Harry as he reached her and slipped his arms around her from behind. They sat in silence for a few moments. It was so quiet that Harry could hear Dora breathing as she slept at Ginny’s feet.
“I thought I was all right,” Ginny said softly after a few moments. “And then Flitwick brought that Hat out.” She stopped and Harry pulled her closer.
“What happened?” he eventually prompted her. Ginny shrugged.
“I don’t … I don’t really know,” she said. “It was like a flashback or something; like I could see it burning on Neville’s head.”
“Yeah,” breathed Harry. “I saw the same thing.”
“But you were all right afterwards,” said Ginny bitterly. “I was sort of trapped in my worst nightmare and I couldn’t find a way out. I could still see everything going on around me. I knew where I was.” Ginny paused and snorted softly. “That Dexter and his mates are going to cause Hermione any number of headaches.” Harry chuckled, nodding in agreement.
“Yeah, together with Gilbert … should prove interesting,” he said, stroking Ginny’s arm absently. He waited for Ginny to continue, sensing that her experience on seeing the Hat was entirely different to his own.
“So I could see what was happening but I couldn’t leave … this place, where I was,” Ginny continued after a long moment. “It’s kind of hard to describe. I knew I was in the Great Hall and it was the start-of-term Feast. I was even talking to people and I answered you … sort of. But my head was playing images I couldn’t control. It was just ... death.” Ginny trailed off and Harry wondered if she’d gone back to the place where she’d been.
He felt helpless. It had been hard coming back to Hogwarts. Harry had gotten caught up in the drama with the starting students and then on the platform with the Thestrals. Then he actually entered the Great Hall which culminated in the confrontation with Malfoy. Harry had reacclimatised himself without even realising it. He had slipped easily into silly banter with Dean and Seamus and even sorting out the first years in the wake of Dexter’s toad hadn’t seemed difficult or odd in any way. Beyond the brief notion that he’d seen the Hat flaming, it had been like any other school year once he’d stepped off the platform at Hogsmeade. It almost startled him that Ginny had slipped into some sort of dark place linked to the battle.
As he rubbed Ginny’s arm and moved his hand to caress her neck, pulling her hair aside and bending to kiss her there, Harry realised Ginny’s reaction upon returning to Hogwarts shouldn’t have been a surprise. He’d seen it happen to most of the students as they had arrived and he’d seen the reaction of Gryffindor House to his altercation with the Fat Lady. He was roused from his musings when Ginny suddenly began speaking again.
“You died, you know,” her tone was almost conversational. “F-Fred was dead. He died here too. He died and then V-Voldemort said you were dead. Neville had to hold me back. I was going to strangle that bastard with my bare hands. Neville grabbed me, he practically held me down; kept muttering something about a snake.” Ginny wasn’t shaking now, she was eerily calm.
“The Hat … it was like I was back there,” Ginny said staring into the fire. “Like some bizarre halfway place between then and now. I could see you lying there just like in all my dreams. I was willing you to wake up. Just get up and … oh I don’t even know. I just wanted you not to be dead. Neville was holding me back and then, he wasn’t anymore and he was yelling at that … that evil … thing.”
Ginny was no longer in the one-roomed hut or even at the Feast; but in the past, a few months ago. She paused and looked up as if staring at some unseen tableau, the players on it acting out a scene she never wanted to watch. When she spoke again her voice was soft, so faint that Harry had to strain to hear it.
“I think George must have grabbed me then,” she said. “Maybe it was Charlie; I don’t really know who it was, except that it wasn’t Fred.” She paused, one hand idly scratching Dora’s head. The flames crackling in the grate popped and a log, finally burned through, sent up a shower of sparks as it collapsed.
“Neville said something I think. I didn’t know where he went. All I could see was you,” Ginny went on, the dimming fire casting a reddish glow over her. “All I could feel was my heart breaking; shattering into a million tiny, tiny pieces.”
Harry buried his face in her hair as he felt her sorrow. It
was tangible, swirling about the room, weaving it’s tendrils about them. He
breathed in her scent, remembering how she’d told him, all those weeks ago,
that she’d felt such despair when Hagrid had carried his lifeless body out of
the
Ginny had expressed her thoughts; of course she had been sad, but Harry had heard that and accepted it without question. Her brother had just died and he had been sensitive to that. That she has sunk to despair at his apparent passing had served only to feed Harry’s ego. Of course she had sorrowed over him and, it had felt grand. That such a girl loved him so much that she had mourned so deeply made him feel ten feet tall and he had kissed her to make her forget; to prove they were both still alive.
It physically hurt to realise that he had not allowed her to really express herself or acknowledged the real depth of her feelings. As Harry tightened his grip on Ginny he let his tears fall silently into her hair. She poured out her sorrow as Harry listened and realised, truly realised for the first time that while that last final, horrible battle had signalled for him, along with the trauma associated with battle and war; a beginning, a fresh start, the beginning of his life. For Ginny it had embodied all of her worst fears, every dread in her heart.
“It was straight from my nightmares,” Ginny continued as she reached up to wipe away the tears from her own cheeks. “Fred was gone. You were … dead. I wasn’t ever going to be whole again.
“He was so arrogant, strutting around like that but I didn’t even care. I didn’t care about any of it, because nothing mattered anymore. There was a lump of ice in my chest where my heart used to be. I was numb. Just numb; and George … or Charlie, didn’t have to hold me back anymore because I didn’t want to fight anymore.”
Coming back to Hogwarts had been easy for Harry. He’d missed it last year and he’d come to see McGonagall a few weeks earlier, able to drink in the repaired splendour of the castle. He’d been through some of his worst moments at Hogwarts and still the old castle reached out to him. It called to him as no other place had. For now Hogwarts was his home, his life, his refuge, but he knew it wouldn’t last. Already he found himself drawn to other places. An underlying need to go to Grimmauld Place was easily pushed aside, rationalised and ignored but The Burrow was reaching out to him with tentative fingers. It brushed against the edges of his conscience, telling him he belonged. Harry didn’t think it was actually The Burrow most of the time because the fingers felt like one of Ginny’s caresses and he knew it was her that was calling him and one day the building wouldn’t matter. Home would be wherever Ginny was.
But for Ginny who had always had a happy home and been surrounded by family who loved her, Hogwarts held none of the sanctuary Harry found there. The cracks that formed in Hogwarts’ shiny exterior in her first year had been patched, their crevices covered until the places where they had been were dimmed and almost forgotten. Now they had been split open again, now it was the place she’d had to give up the greatest desire of her heart and bravely face that the man she loved, for Harry knew now that she always had; was to leave her. Harry never felt so low for breaking up with her at Dumbledore’s funeral than he did now.
Then, she’d gone back there, alone, to face Death Eaters and
mount a defence against the increasingly strong evils that permeated their
world. Last year Hogwarts had been a place that separated her from the man she
loved and her family, her haven. And finally it was the place of her deepest
fears, her worst nightmares. Her brother had died here, she’d wept over his
battered body in the same Great Hall in which they’d been feasting. And then
her already battered and beaten heart had taken a final shattering blow when
Harry had been carried from the
“I think when Neville stood up and refused to back down it … got through to me,” Ginny continued, her voice strengthening slightly, although she shivered in the cool hut. The fire had died down and, not wanting to let her go, Harry pulled a huge, Hagrid sized blanket from a nearby chair and wrapped it around them both. He didn’t know what time it was but he didn’t care. The blanket pooled on the floor at their feet, the folds of the coarse wool lumpy against the smooth floor of Hagrid’s hut.
“I told him before I … left, that he would have to finish it,” Harry said when Ginny did not continue. Ginny was silent for a moment after he spoke.
“You knew,” she said eventually, turning to face him. It wasn’t a revelation; she had known since the earliest days after that battle. “You knew you weren’t coming back when you passed me on the lawn.”Harry drew in a deep breath. She’d sensed him. He’d known it then but hoped that she had not, that it had been a coincidence that she had turned at his passing that night. Harry nodded slowly but there was no reproach in her eyes as they searched his.
“I didn’t know it was you then,” said Ginny as her small fingers played with the buttons on his shirt. She was staring at some point over his left shoulder, kneeling between his thighs as she moved imperceptibly closer to him.
“But later you did?” Harry asked softly, his breath catching in his throat. Ginny nodded.
“When Hagrid said you’d gone,” she said. “You’d been on the ground and then Neville … and then there was fighting … and you had just gone, vanished. I felt you and I didn’t even think it meant you were alive. I don’t think I even felt anything. I could just … feel you and it felt like I could do anything then.”
“Is that why you took on Bellatrix?” asked Harry, closing his eyes and trying to ignore the warmth that was spreading through his chest as Ginny’s fingertips loosened a button and made contact with his skin.
“I don’t know if it was that or if I felt like I had nothing left to lose,” admitted Ginny. Harry looked up at her. Ginny was looking down and Harry’s hands were holding the blanket around their shoulders, preventing him from lifting her head with a caress.
“I’m sorry,” was all he whispered. Ginny’s fingers continued to play across his chest, causing his breath to hitch as she traced the scar over his heart and trailed over the place where the Killing Curse had struck him that night.
“I could feel you,” Ginny whispered. “I could still feel you.”
“I didn’t stop because,” Harry swallowed, “because I couldn’t have kept going if I did. The last thing I thought of was you.” Ginny raised her head then.
She moved closer to him, her hands sliding around his back. Harry’s eyes slid shut as Ginny placed her lips gently over his own. Her kiss was chaste and brief, over too soon. Harry’s eyes fluttered open. Unable to speak his eyes searched hers, asking why she stopped.
The coarse, scratchy wool of Hagrid’s blanket rasped across the back of his hands and the small of his back where Ginny’s hands had pulled the shirttails out of his trousers and explored his waist.
“I wouldn’t have let you go,” Ginny whispered as he hands slid up his arms. Harry didn’t know when Ginny had completely unbuttoned his shirt but he knew she must have because he felt her hair tickling his chest and stomach as she bent to kiss the scar over his chest. Her voice was barely a whisper. “I had already lost Fred. I would not have lost you too.
“And then I did anyway. This place … it’s filled with loss. I just … I was just remembering. Trapped in that other place and McGonagall was talking about – about banned things …” She trailed off and Harry pulled her closer as she looked up at him, her hands still resting on his shoulders. Her eyes stared into his, filled with pain.
“And then someone said Weasley,” finished Harry, dropping the blanket and running his hands up her back. “And they were talking about the twins.” Ginny nodded as she buried her face in his shoulder.
“I couldn’t be there anymore,” she murmured. “There were too many memories and they were pressing in on me.” Harry turned his head to press a kiss to her hair as she shivered and he reached to wrap the blanket around them both again.
“I was worried,” he said.
“I’m sorry,” whispered Ginny.
“Don’t be.”
“I felt silly,” Ginny sighed, shifting a little and settling back on her bottom, draping her legs over Harry’s. “I didn’t want you to have to deal with me and my silly fears and memories. You’ve got enough to be worrying about with yourself.”
“Don’t ever think that,” said Harry fiercely. “Your fears and memories are my worry. If you are afraid, or worried, or scared, that’s my biggest worry, no matter what else is going on. I fought an entire war so that I can have the privilege of worrying about you.” Ginny looked at Harry solemnly.
“And to hope with you,” Harry added softly, tucking a stand of hair behind her ear and caressing her face. “Dream with you, be with you. I want to be with you Ginny, always. I want to share your worries and your fears.” Ginny’s hands slid up his chest, pushing his shirt from his shoulders and down his arms. Her small fingers raked their way across his shoulders under the scratchy blanket.
“Well, Harry Potter,” she said slyly, a hint of mischief in her voice. “Your shoulders do seem broader than they once were. Do you think they are strong enough to bear my burdens as well as your own?” Harry looked at her seriously.
“Let me,” he pleased. “Please don’t shield me.” Ginny nodded her head.
“Okay,” she said softly. “I think maybe I could face almost anything with you.”
She kissed him then, finishing the promise she had started minutes ago with that brief, chaste kiss. This kiss was anything but chaste. Her lips played forcefully over his own and her tongue stroked insistently at his lips until he parted them and it tangled with his own as his fingers tangled in her hair. Harry pressed her to the ground, trapping the blanket under them as they lay there exploring with tongues and fingertips. Ginny’s nimble fingers pushed insistently at Harry’s shirt until he wriggled out of it completely, discarding it somewhere on Hagrid’s floor.
**********************
Harry couldn’t feel his legs. As he struggled his way to consciousness from the depths of sleep he realised it was not sinister that he was unable to feel his lower limbs. Something that was obviously hair tickled his nose and a small hand rested on his bare chest. The owner of the hair and hand was pinning down his left leg and a warm fuzzy lump was weighing down his right. He was not surprised to find his left hand resting on a soft curve. Ginny’s breath ghosted across his neck. The fire was now just glowing coals in the grate and his right foot was beginning to tingle. The sky outside the window was still dark, twinkling with numberless stars. Harry heard a loud snore from the corner of the one roomed hut and a sort of wet snuffling sound from nearby.
“Ginny!” he hissed urgently, “Ginny, wake up!”
“No, go ‘way,” she mumbled into his chest.
“Wake up!” Harry insisted, trying to shrug off the blanket in which they were cocooned. “We are so dead!”
“No, no one’s died,” murmured Ginny, burrowing further into the massive blanket.
“Hagrid’s in here!” Harry poked Ginny sharply in the ribs as Hagrid punctuated his words with a rumbling snore. Ginny’s eyes shot open and she sat up abruptly.
“What’s the time?” she whispered frantically.
“Um, it’s still dark,” Harry whispered back. Ginny grabbed his wrist and checked his watch in the semi dark.
“It’s four in the morning!” she moaned. “We fell asleep!”
“Oh, you think?” asked Harry sarcastically, pushing Dora off his leg and scrambling out of the blanket.
“We need to get back,” said Ginny, scrabbling around in the blanket for her robes which Harry knew were tangled somewhere in the blanket. “Before they know we’re not there.”
“Oh,” said Harry grimly. “I think Hermione and Neville will be aware of that.” Ginny looked stricken. Harry smiled at her and pulled his Invisibility Cloak out. A slow grin spread across Ginny’s features as Harry swirled the cloak around them both and, saying a whispered goodbye to Dora they stole out of Hagrid’s hut, one of his snores covering the loud click of the door as they stepped out into the darkness.
The trip to
“I got cross at her before,” Harry whispered under the cloak. “She might not let me in and she’ll definitely be angry if I wake her.” Ginny nodded.
“Well, you’ll have to tell me! I don’t know the password,” she hissed eventually.
“Harry Potter,” came a stern voice from behind them. Harry felt Ginny freeze as he stiffened. Professor McGonagall swept past, missing them by inches as the Fat Lady woke with a start and swung open sleepily.
“Don’ know what you’re playin’ at,” she grumbled. “In and out like a train station all night.” The portrait swung shut behind the professor and Ginny turned to Harry.
“I thought she saw us!”
“No, that’s the password,” Harry grimaced. Ginny smirked and Harry rolled his eyes at her. “Well we can’t go in now. What are we going to do?” Before Ginny could answer the portrait swung open again and Hermione and Neville came scrambling out. To Harry’s surprise, Ron was behind them.
“What do you mean you didn’t know, Hermione?” he was saying. “I thought you knew everything about Hogwarts?”
“Well obviously not, Ron,” snapped Hermione.
“It should have been obvious,” murmured Neville.
“Quite, Mr Longbottom,” said Professor McGonagall crisply from behind them all. “The staff of Hogwarts does not take kindly to intruders. Such measures were put into place by Professor Snape a year ago.”
“Bit late by then wasn’t it?” muttered Ron grimly.
“Mr Weasley,” said Professor McGonagall sharply. “You are skating on extremely thin ice. I suggest you do not push your luck. Follow me, all of you. I also want to know what you two were doing out of bed at this hour of the night.” She indicated Hermione and Neville as she spoke and turned in the direction of the Headmistresses office. Ron, Hermione and Neville began to follow her. Harry held his breath as the four of them approached. He had no idea what Ron was doing at Hogwarts or how he got into Gryffindor Tower but to find out meant following them. Harry was fairly sure discovery outside his common room at four in the morning, even for the Head Boy, would be frowned upon.
He and Ginny stood as still as statues as Professor McGonagall swept past followed by their three friends. Suddenly Ron stopped. Glancing quickly at Professor McGonagall, he tilted his head to where Harry and Ginny were standing.
“You two are going to pay for this,” he whispered. “Get inside right now. I’ll talk to you later, Harry.” Ron and Hermione both hastened after Neville.
“How did he …” Ginny trailed off and Harry shook his head. He stared after Ron and Hermione as they rounded the corner, Ron giving one last jerk with his thumb before disappearing from view.
“Harry Potter,” Ginny hissed at the Fat Lady who only grunted sleepily and swung open. The two of them clambered through the portrait hole and pulled the cloak off. Ginny headed straight for the stairs to the girls’ dorms but Harry caught her hand. Ginny turned to him questioningly.
“I love you,” Harry said and he kissed her softly. Ginny blushed a little and gave him a smile before she squeezed his hand and pulling away, stepped lightly up the staircase.
Harry hurried up the stairs to his room where Seamus and Dean slumbered. Storing his cloak in his trunk he hastily donned his pyjamas and fell into bed. He was asleep in minutes.
*********************
When Harry woke the next morning the sun was shining weakly through the windows of his dormitory. He squinted at his surroundings before feeling for his glasses and looking around. The room was empty; Neville’s four-poster looked untouched as though he had not slept there. Dean’s bed was a mess of sheets and blankets, a set of robes crumpled on the pillow. A large book was sighing intermittently from Seamus’s nightstand.
Harry’s eyes drifted to the bed where Ron usually slept. A tie was looped around one post and a Puddlemere United poster was spellotaped above the bed. As he swung his protesting legs out of bed Harry wondered who was sleeping there. An extra bed has been squeezed in between Neville and Dean and the trunk at the end of that one said FRJ printed on it in garish orange paint. The dorm should have looked cramped with the extra bed in there but it didn’t seem to be. Harry crossed the room to visit the bathroom.
“Probably magically expanded,” he muttered to the deserted bathroom. When he had finished Harry wandered back to the deserted dorm, stretching as he went. He was stiff from falling asleep on Hagrid’s floor. He recalled how Ginny had looked in the firelight and smiled dreamily as he checked his watch.
It was after
With a muttered oath he scrambled to find his robes, muttering a charm to remove the creases. Harry pawed frantically through his trunk for clean socks, searched under his bed for his errant tie as he was trying to do up his fly and shoved his feet into his shoes as he shrugged himself into a clean shirt. Harry paused in front of the mirror, scowled at his hair and then, ignoring it, he slammed out of the dorm and thundered down the stairs and across the deserted common room.
Harry took every secret passage and hidden stairway he knew to get down to the Great Hall but he was still out of breath when he got there. He pushed the doors open slowly and shuffled inside quietly. He could see the teachers handing out class schedules and his eyes went automatically to the Gryffindor table where he was surprised to see the motherly woman he’d seen the night before handing out timetables to the first years.
There was a spare seat next to Ginny and Harry smiled to himself as he made a beeline for her. He was halfway to the seat when he realised Ron was sitting opposite her, next to Hermione, and laughing with Dean and Seamus. Dropping into the spare seat he pressed a kiss to Ginny’s cheek.
“Morning,” he murmured before shooting a glance at Ron.
“Good morning sleeping beauty,” Ron grinned at him.
“What’re you doing here?” Harry blurted. Ron shrugged.
“By the time McGonagall finished with me it was practically breakfast time,” he said through a mouthful of eggs. “She said I may as well stay and have breakfast and see the girl I came to see.”
“But didn’t you see Hermione last night?” asked Harry in a low voice as he piled his plate with bacon.
“I came to see Ginny,” Ron said quietly.
Harry looked up startled at the tone in Ron’s voice. He sounded distinctly unfriendly. Harry gazed at Ron, perplexed, but Ron wasn’t looking at him, he was shooting daggers at Ginny who was staring back at him defiantly. Harry flicked a questioning look at Hermione but she was studiously avoiding his gaze, staring at her plate. Seamus continued his raucous story about six of his cousins, four trees and a goat while Harry checked Neville and Dean for any explanation of Ron’s attitude. Dean shook his head and Neville shrugged. Harry opened his mouth to demand an explanation when someone else spoke.
“Right, who do we have here then, seventh years? You look like seventh years, I must say. Seventh years … seventh years … I’ve got your timetables here somewhere. I do declare I am quite the dither this morning and I daresay you all know better than I how this works. I haven’t been back here in so long, quite forgotten how it all works!” The motherly looking witch was shuffling through an armful of parchment as she spoke.
“It’s looking rather spiffing though isn’t it? Nice and shiny. I think these are new tables actually. It never looked so good when I was here you know. We etched our names into the tables and so on, as children do you know. I remember I was quit taken with this one boy …” she trailed off as if lost somewhere in the past. Harry exchanged an amused look with Seamus.
“I’m sorry, but do you have our timetables?” asked Hermione before the woman could begin reminiscing further.
“What?” the witch started, her midnight blue hat wobbling as she looked up at Hermione. “Oh! Oh of course dear, I don’t know where my mind was at. Not at all sure what I was thinking for a moment there. Not a terribly good way to make a first impression is it? Never mind I’m sure we’ll have quite a bit of time to get to know one another.” She pulled a parchment out with a flourish and squinted at it thoughtfully.
“Ginevra?” she asked, waving the parchment briskly and then handed it to Ginny when she timidly raised her hand. “Here you are dear. Quite the packed timetable I see. Still, I’m sure you’ll do just fine.” The witch continued to pull pieces of parchment randomly from her pile and hand them out to the students.
“Muggle Studies?” frowned Ginny, scanning her timetable. “I don’t do Muggle Studies.”
“Oh!” The witch stopped abruptly, several pieces of parchment floating to the floor. She drew her brows together and peered at Ginny; her head tilted. Harry was starting to wonder if the woman needed glasses. “You must be a pureblood or a half-blood then dear. Everyone has to do Muggle Studies except for the Muggleborns.”
“Why?” asked Dean as he picked up his timetable and looked at it carefully.
“Well, to combat the absolute rubbish you all learnt last year of course!” She suddenly looked quite commanding. The pudgy, breathless woman had been replaced with a strict disciplinarian who managed to sustain an aura of calm serenity. “Classes are a bit crowded mind, so Muggleborns aren’t in the classes. They know all about the Muggle world of course, having grown up there so there’s not room for them. We do the best we can.” She beamed at Dean and then waved a piece of parchment in the air, turning back into the motherly figure in the blink of an eye.
“Do we have a Hermione Granger?” she paused, squinting slightly as Hermione took the parchment eagerly. “Now, I have seen you before dear, I just know it. Oh I’m sure it will come to me.”
“I’m sorry,” interrupted Neville. “I didn’t catch your name.”
“Oh of course dear, such a lot to take in isn’t it. I’m Ethel Crockwell, Minerva’s asked me to be the Gryffindor Head of House, isn’t that exciting? We shall get along famously I am sure. I was in Gryffindor of course you know, in my day.”
Ethel suddenly dropped the pile of parchment she was still carrying and Neville and Harry dived to the floor to gather them up for her.
“Professor Crockwell, would you like some help?” Hermione offered. The professor looked at her with gratitude etched on her features and handed her a pile of parchment.
“Oh, would you? And I don’t suppose you’ve seen the Quidditch Captain have you dear? I have a message for him somewhere ...” she trailed off, patting her pockets absently and dropping the rest of her papers. Harry tried hard to stifle his laughter. This woman was a slightly dotty cross between Trelawney and Mrs Weasley but he was quite amused. Neville sighed as more parchment rained down on his head and began gathering them to add to the pile already in his hands.
“That’s me,” Harry eventually managed to say, just as Professor Crockwell pulled a rolled parchment from one of her pockets.
“Wonderful, wonderful,” muttered the professor absently as she handed him the scroll and took the stack of parchment Neville offered her. “Need to organise try outs and things. I don’t know anything about Quidditch you know, never played it myself. Where’s Neville Longbottom?”
Neville held out his hand with a smile and Professor Crockwell handed him a parchment and Professor Crockwell wandered off muttering about her days at Hogwarts and calling names randomly from the teetering and crumpled pile of parchment in her arms. Hermione handed Harry his timetable and continued down the table handing out timetables to the other students. Harry looked at his timetable. Ron continued eating his eggs, quite unmoved by the ruckus caused by the new professor.
“Do you suppose she’s the Muggle Studies teacher then?” asked Ginny, still frowning at her timetable.
“Yeah, she is. McGonagall announced that at the Feast last night,” Seamus said as he poured himself some pumpkin juice.
“We’ve got new Transfiguration and Defence teachers too,” added Dean. “
“Oh, I um, missed that part,” Ginny muttered sheepishly.
“Yes, you did,” growled Ron menacingly. Harry stared at Ron who had resumed glaring at Ginny. He once again opened his mouth to find out what was going on when a small voice came from behind him.
“Um, Mr Potter?” it said timidly. Seamus and Dean snorted and Neville let out a chuckle. Harry turned around to find Gilbert standing there, twisting his hands nervously and shuffling from one foot to the other.
“It’s just Harry,” he said, smiling, hoping to reassure the timid boy. Gilbert opened and closed his mouth several times and turned a brilliant shade of red. Harry sighed. Gilbert had been able to talk to him fine before he knew who he was. He had no idea how to put the child at ease. He was rescued from his dilemma by Dexter who came bounding up to them.
“Don’t worry about that big git,” he said, bouncing on his toes, Bartholomew swinging from one hand. “Just ignore him, he’s an awful sourpuss. “
“But he’s my brother,” wailed Gilbert suddenly, turning to Dexter. “And he’s supposed to help me and he is just ignoring me and I don’t know anybody else! The only person I even met here who’s older than me is Mr Potter and, well he’s Harry Potter isn’t he? Gerald is supposed to take care of me!”
“I’m sure he doesn’t mean to ignore you,” interjected Ginny. She smiled at Gilbert encouragingly. “Big brothers just get crazy sometimes.” Her words were charged but Harry didn’t know exactly why. He could practically feel Ron stiffen behind him.
“I need to send a letter to mum,” whispered Gilbert, gazing at Harry. “Gerald won’t give me any parchment and mine got all wet because I was carrying it in my pocket and I sort of got too close to the lake but it’s drying now, so it’ll be all right in the end but I can’t write on it yet though and all I’ve got is a pot of green ink, I’ve lost my blue ink and I think I left my Transfiguration book at home and so I need to ask mum to send it to me but Gerald told me not to bother her because it’s my own fault I left the book at home and he won’t give me any parchment and now he’s ignoring me and he wouldn’t let me write on the bottom of his letter and then he went to find an owl without me and I think he’s sulking because he thought you weren’t really real you know and he is probably embarrassed I know that now but I just don’t even know what I can write on and how to get an owl because I was supposed to send my letter with Gerald and he told me last night me he would get the owl this morning for our letters and I didn’t need to worry about it and-”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Harry held up his hand. Gilbert had not taken a breath. The boy stopped short breathing heavily.
“And I didn’t know who else to ask,” Gilbert finished, looking down.
“That’s okay,” said Harry, smiling at the boy and winking at Dexter. “It’s exactly the sort of thing you can bring to the Head Boy. Of course Hermione’s more likely to have parchment and ink but why don’t we write your mum a letter and take a walk to the Owlery before classes?” Gilbert brightened and looked up at Harry.
“Really? Gerald said I was an idiot for bothering you with it. He said you wouldn’t care about me at all and I would just be in the way,” Gilbert said.
“Lots of people misjudge Harry like that,” muttered Ginny. Her words were loaded with double meaning, Harry could tell, but he gave up trying to figure out what message Ginny was trying to send Ron and turned to Neville.
“Got any ink and a bit of parchment?” Neville scrabbled about in his bag for a moment before Luna appeared, or possibly floated up to them, and handed Gilbert a piece of parchment and a self inking quill.
“Here you are,” she said. Gilbert stammered a thanks and Dexter offered him his back to write on while Luna floated over to Neville and sat boldly on his lap. Neville began blushing hard enough to rival a Weasley and Seamus and Dean snickered.
“Good morning Ronald,” Luna said dreamily. “I did not think you were coming to Hogwarts this year. Hermione seemed very distraught about it all you know. You really should go and put your school robes on. Not that those aren’t lovely but I didn’t think Professor McGonagall would allow magenta robes in classes.”
“Oh well these are my work robes. I didn’t have a chance to get changed and I’m not staying,” Ron protested. He turned to look at Ginny with a hard glint in his eyes. “I just came to sort someone out.” Luna pecked Neville on the cheek and stood up.
“Well I need to get to History of Magic and get the seat closest to the Nurgarblefligs before anyone else sits there. Do go easy on Ginny, won’t you Ronald,” she said as she drifted away. “Last year wasn’t a picnic for any of us.” Ron glared at her as she walked away. Ginny looked smug. Harry had no idea what was going on but he was going to find out right now. He started to open his mouth.
“I finished the letter,” piped up Gilbert. “Can we go to the Owlery before class Mr Potter?” Harry sighed and turned away from Ron. He was surprised neither Ron nor Ginny were dead; the looks they were giving each other could surely kill. Harry plastered a smile on his face.
“Sure Gilbert, maybe we can find our owl. She doesn’t get a lot of post to deliver,” he said as he squeezed Ginny’s shoulder. “I’ll see you in Potions.” Ginny smiled up at him and he felt quite warm as he basked in her beaming smile.
“Sure, Harry, I’ll see if I can save you a seat,” she said mischievously. Harry looked at Ron, trying to convey that he wanted a word with him, as Gilbert tugged on his sleeve. Ron just looked away.
“I’ll see you later Ron,” was all he said and turned to follow Gilbert who had brightened considerably and was practically bouncing out of the Great Hall.
“What sort of owl do you have Mr Potter? I always liked owls you know, they seem very wise. Even before I knew they carried post you know I always liked them. I bet your owl is special just like you. I can’t wait to meet him. Is it a him? Maybe you’ve got a girl owl. She’s probably a grand bird. How long have you had her? Is it a her? Maybe you can’t tell with owls …” Harry let the boy keep talking as they left ignoring Seamus and Dean calling out ‘Goodbye Mr Potter!’ and almost all the Ravenclaws who were staring at Gilbert and his monologue in what could only be described as horror.
Gilbert chattered all the way to the Owlery. He seemed to
move effortlessly from a discourse on owls (Gilbert wanted an owl, probably a
black one), to a recount of his trip across the lake the night before (he’d
almost toppled out of his boat and it was probably a miracle he was still
alive). Arriving at the Owlery it didn’t take any time at all to locate
All the way back to the castle Gilbert treated Harry to his opinion of the castle in the daylight (it was the largest building he had ever seen), which led to a summary of his trip to London three years before where he’d seen many large buildings and Gerald hadn’t had a very good time because they’d run into three ghosts in the Tower of London.
“We’re not used to ghosts but dad -” here the boy faltered. “Dad told us it was okay. I really liked them. I’m not sure Gerald likes being a wizard, you know. He didn’t want to come to Hogwarts but mum told me that dad would want this.” Gilbert paused and stopped walking for a moment. “She loves my dad. I think she misses him heaps. She’s pretty sure he’s dead. She didn’t say that to us, but she thinks it. I can tell.
“Gerald got cranky cause he has to do Muggle Studies y’know. He thinks he knows all about Muggles but I bet he doesn’t. Mum’s a Muggle but we did lots of wizard stuff too. Dad charmed lots of the kitchen things and since he’s been gone Auntie Gloria comes over and makes sure the charms are still working. Mum doesn’t have to wash the dishes. She hates washing dishes.” Gilbert took a breath and climbed the steps to the Entrance Hall.
“But Gerald has to do Muggle Studies anyway, that teacher told him so. Says we’re half-blood so we have to. She was saying normally I wouldn’t be doing it until third year but those Ministry people made up so many lies that we need the truth. One of the girls is Muggleborn and she got cross ‘cause she can’t do it. I don’t know why you’d want to if you’ve grown up with Muggles. I mean wouldn’t you already know heaps about Muggles? You’d know the truth wouldn’t you and you wouldn’t believe any lies. Oh! I’ve got to go to Transfiguration! Thanks Mr Potter!” Gilbert dashed off, calling out to a group of first years who were heading out of the Entrance Hall.
As Harry watched Gilbert go he pondered what the boy had said. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something the boy said was niggling at him. His musings were interrupted by raised voices just outside the Entrance Hall on the Grand Staircase. As he came around the last corner onto the staircase he could see who it was.
“Ron, just let it go,” pleaded Neville. Harry rounded the corner to see Neville standing, arms outstretched, between Ron and Ginny as if keeping them from pulling their wands on each other. Hermione had a restraining hand on Ron’s arm and Dean was actually holding Ginny back.
“No, it’s not good enough,” insisted Ron. “You can’t keep doing this!” If Ron had been about to say something else it was impossible to tell because at that moment Slughorn’s voice boomed genially through the corridor.
“Good morning, good morning seventh years! Let’s go to Potions!” The man seemed entirely oblivious to the battle erupting on the Grand Staircase. Ginny shook Dean off and glared at Ron icily.
“Sorry Ron,” she spat sarcastically. “I have to go now. Terribly sorry I can’t stay and listen to your concerns. I’ve somewhere to be.”
“This is not over, Ginny,” Ron called out as she swept past him and down towards the dungeons. “Don’t think I’ve finished.”
“Ron, just drop it,” pleaded Hermione.
“What on earth-” began Harry but he got no further because Slughorn waddled over to him, beaming and clapping his hands together once, loudly.
“Harry! Harry, my boy. How wonderful to see you!” he boomed. “It’s such a pleasure and an honour to have you in our class. Now, Harry, dear boy, allow me to impress upon you the importance of your dedication in this class.” Harry tuned out Slughorn’s waffle about Aurors, Potions results and protection of the people and turned to Ron but his best mate was rapidly vanishing up the Grand Staircase. The rest of his classmates melted away to their first class and Slughorn slung an arm around Harry’s shoulders while he was distracted. They made their way down to the dungeons and into the Potions classroom, Slughorn droning the whole time about how valuable his Potions classes were going to be.
Slughorn dragged Harry all the way to the front of the class before loosening his grip and slapping Harry on the back, sent him on his way. The rest of the class had filed in behind them and Harry sighed heavily. Hermione had sat down next to Ginny, the two of them whispering furiously. There was a mix of people from his year and from Ginny’s and the only seat free was next to Draco Malfoy.
Hermione looked at Harry apologetically but he just glowered at her as he made his way to the spare seat. He was increasingly frustrated with the evident disagreement between Ron and Ginny and his own inability to find out what the problem was, let alone help resolve it. He sat heavily in his seat and gazed at Ginny who had her head down and was scribbling furiously on a piece of parchment. He sighed loudly and realised he didn’t have his bag with him, or his books, or his Potions equipment.
It was turning out to be a very bad day.