|SIYE Time:20:32 on 16th December 2018|
Memoirs of a Red Headed Witch
By My Wicked Quill
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Category: Pre-OotP, Post-OotP, Post-HBP, Post-Hogwarts, Post-DH/AB
Genres: Action/Adventure, Comedy, Humor, Romance, Songfic
Warnings: Mild Language, Mild Sexual Situations, Violence
Summary: Ginny Weasley was always overlooked. Always the youngest, always the smallest, and was never really given the chance to let her voice be heard. But sometimes the best insight comes from those who were always in the background. Her story of redemption, loyalty and love, proves that she was never just the Weasley brothers' little sister.
Hitcount: Story Total: 112408; Chapter Total: 6708
Awards: View Trophy Room
NEWLY REVISITED! EDITED AND NEW MATERIAL!
“Your beautiful eyes, stare right into my, eyes
You’re here, you’re eyes are looking into mine
So baby make me fly
My heart has never felt this way before….”
-Beautiful Eyes, Taylor Swift
I remember the first time I ever saw Harry Potter, ironic of course that I didn’t have a clue who I was staring at so boldly. It’s a small story including a train station, unnerved tears, and a wizarding barrier. My mother and I were seeing off my remaining brothers as they prepared to board the train to school for the beginning of term.
I was not handling it very well; each year I was left behind, I had the consolation that my brother Ron, who was only one year older, would stay behind as well. This was Ron’s first year at Hogwarts, thus leaving me to fend for myself. I hated being the youngest. I complained and begged my mother to let me go with them, telling her that no one would care if I went a year early, of course, I hadn’t resulted to screaming and lashing out- I was far to dignified to put on a show. But, my mother wouldn’t see to it. No matter how my persuasive voice was heard, it still fell on deaf ears.
So, I felt my eyes welling up.
I never cried.
Ginny Weasley never cried.
I just wanted to go so badly; I wanted to learn how to control my magic and use it how I wanted. However, I had to wait another bloody year, and this time, alone.
We had just reached the barrier between platforms nine and ten at the muggle station, my mother leading the pack, when I saw him. I was staying close to my mother in case my unwanted tears dared to give way and my brothers would see.
That’s when a young boy came up to us.
I laid my eyes on him and every other thought left my head. (I didn’t know, then, that I would never lay eyes on another boy the same way.) He was about as tall as Ron, only much skinnier, almost to an extreme; it was obvious by the way his clothes hung off him that he wasn’t well fed. He was pale and wore glasses, but he was easily the most handsome boy I had ever seen.
His eyes…his eyes, were emeralds and maybe I was so dazed, maybe it was because all coherent thought, (I’m still not sure why this came to my head then.) but they suddenly reminded me of fresh pickled toad. His eyes were big and bright, full of elation and a kind of happiness and fear and nervousness I had never seen before, even behind his round spectacles, I could read him like a book. I could see straight into him.
It was a lot to take in for a ten-year-old girl.
His hair was midnight black and it stood up in strange places, making it fun to look at.
I hadn’t been paying attention to the conversation he was having with my mother but I took it that he was a first year and wanted to know how to get on the platform.
I found odd that he didn’t know; what wizard didn’t know how to get to Hogwarts? And why was he all alone?
I wanted to pay attention, honestly I did, but he was so…distracting? I was only ten; I didn’t know anything about those feelings. So I just stood there, smiling, staring, all trace of tears or would-be-tears gone, all I felt was some kind of magic inside me.
Love at first sight? Maybe.
Back then…I didn’t even know who he was.
I heard the last of my mother’s explanation, and I could see he was nervous when it was his time to run through the wall. I managed to open my mouth,
“Good luck!” I called to him. He turned to see me, and he seemed to relax, I must have given him the encouragement he needed. He smiled and then disappeared through the barrier.
And just like that, he was gone.
My brothers then left, one by one, and my mother and I followed. I tried to look for the boy on the other side, but I couldn’t see him.
The train was one of the most beautiful sights I’d seen in my lifetime since I had yet to see the castle with my own eyes. But the scarlet engine was magical all on its own. I watched the hustle and bustle from tight beside my mother, and tuned out my brothers’ bickering.
Look after Ron…Fred, George stop!...Percy’s a prefect….blah blah blah…
It got all so tiresome.
That is, until Fred and George mentioned the boy. My attention returned to my family. “You know the black haired boy who was near us in the station? Know who he is?”
“Who?” asked Ron.
That was the moment my world changed for good. I had actually met THE Harry Potter. Never in my dizziest daydreams had I pictured him like that. He was so normal, so boyish, so…wonderful. In that moment, there was nothing I wanted more than to run onto that train and introduce myself. Nothing.
“Oh, Mum, can I go on the train and see him, Mum, oh please…”
“You’ve already seen him, Ginny, and the poor boy isn’t something you goggle at in a zoo.”
I scowled, and was about to contort, but she turned to Fred, “Is he really, Fred? How do you know?”
“Asked him. Saw his scar. It’s really there- like lightening.”
I tuned out again. This time, from shock. So it was all true then. The stories, the scar, it was all real. But most importantly, FRED AND GEORGE SPOKEN TO HARRY POTTER AND I HADN’T?
My brothers were saying their final goodbyes while I was losing my chance to meet him. As my brother’s got on the train, I almost started to cry. It was just so damn unfair!
“Don’t, Ginny,” said Fred, “We’ll send you loads of owls.”
But that didn’t console me one bit. The train pulled away and I couldn’t help but chase after it.
“Ginny!” warned my mother, but ignore her. I didn’t want the train to fall out of my eye sight, I waved, hoping that by some miracle Harry Potter was watching me and would wave back.
When I realized how silly that really was, I stopped running. My heart sank as the sound of the engine faded into the distance….without me.
My mother has always been a bright woman, and with having seven children, nothing really ever got past her.
On our way home, I saw her stealing glances at me, it was becoming rather annoying. It took a long, antagonizing while before she spoke.
“Is my daughter, the fine Ginny Weasley, smitten?” her voice was smirking on its own, in the way only Molly Weasley’s voice could.
I blushed, the trademark Weasley blush, my face going as red as my hair.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
My mother wasn’t buying it, naturally, but she spared me.
We figured that over the next few days the reason none of my brothers had written was because they were getting settled for another school year. And I didn’t need letters, I was sure Percy was being his jaunty Head Boy self, Fred and George wreaking havoc and Ron, well, Ron was most likely as insipid there as he was at home.
Two out of three wasn't bad.
Truth was, I missed them terribly, and being the only child in the house was strange.
When we got our first letter from Ron, a little over a week later, I sat to hear what it was like; I had already imagined what the castle looked like but I was always eager for more information, and if he managed to say anything about Harry Potter…
It was a long shot, but a girl could dream.
Ron’s letter, however, was better than I could have ever hoped for, because as horrible as it sound, I didn't really expect much from my brother, he had become best friends with the boy from the train station. With THE Harry Potter.
My mother did not spare me for the remainder of the year.
That Christmas, I wished that Ron wouldn't ruin that friendship
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