Second Chances and First Occasions by Rogan
Summary: ***Honourable Mention in the First Time for Everything Challenge*** After Harry survives his second Killing Curse, he makes a decision that changes things quite drastically. Getting a second chance at some of the events in his life, Harry resolves to do a few things right he did wrong on his first attempt.
Rating: PG
Categories: First Time for Everything Challenge (2019-2), First Time For Everything Challenge (2019-2)
Characters: None
Genres: None
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: None
Published: 2019.08.18
Updated: 2019.08.18
Index
Chapter 1: The King's Cross Choice and Transfiguration
Chapter 2: Friends First
Chapter 3: A Meeting in Memory
Chapter 4: Dress Robes
Chapter 5: Ridiculous, Awkward and Mental
Chapter 6: Having a Ball
Chapter 7: An Editorial Conclusion
Chapter 1: The King's Cross Choice and Transfiguration
Author's Notes: I thought I was done with Harry and Ginny. Not that I have lost my appreciation for the stories written by J.K. Rowling, but I have not experienced a plot bunny about them for a long, long time. While writing about these two was what initially helped me start sharing my own fiction with the world, I've been trying to focus on my own original stories and, in the process, have left writing about these two wonderful characters to other, more talented authors on this website.
Periodically I check in and just read whatever is new, but this time it was the challenge which drew my eye. There is a "first" that I believe Harry and Ginny should have had but which was denied them because, quite frankly, Harry just simply behaved like an uncertain teenager. Had he only been a bit quicker on the uptake, then some of the scenes in this story might have been his to enjoy. It’ll just be his luck that in fanfiction, we sometimes get to tweak things a bit.
I was originally going to include a few lines from the original book - the Deathly Hallows, to be precise - but have decided to avoid any accidental plagiarism by assuming that everyone who’s read the Harry Potter books as thoroughly as you probably have, will recognize exactly when and where this story starts and how it deviates from what originally happened.
As always, please note that none of the characters depicted in the story are mine, and that I write these words not to steal, but to honor J.K. Rowling's original work.
[...]
Harry's mind, as he felt Kings Cross station slowly dissolve around him, latched onto yet another thing that Dumbledore had once said to him, years before, in a situation which was oddly similar to the one in which he found himself now. Then too, he had had a choice. He could have stayed where he was, or he could have returned - in that case to an earlier time - in order to save lives.
He and Hermione had chosen to return then, as he already felt himself choosing now to return, and as a result they had saved — or at least prolonged — the life of his godfather and his hippogriff. Sirius, he mused as more and more of the station began to disappear into the shrouding white fog, really should have lived longer. If he could have saved Sirius, would their search for the Horcruxes have been as hard? They would have had an ally, at least. Would it have been possible to prevent the deaths of so many of his fellow students and friends, if he had managed to do things differently?
As he let his mind slowly unfocus and watched the last remnants of Kings Cross station disappear into the white mists around him, the last questions he remembered thinking of before closing his eyes was: When was the turning point? Where could I have prevented all this?
---
"Mr. Potter?"
Startled by the sudden voice, familiar though it might be, Harry abruptly opened his eyes and, to his surprise, noticed that he was not where he expected to be. Where previously he had been surrounded by the hushed sounds of nature, the leaves and soft mosses under his feet had made way for the hard stone of a classroom. His eyes, which seemed reluctant to focus, locked on what appeared to be a large cage containing several blurry, colourful objects which seemed to be creeping around inside it. As they came into somewhat sharper focus, most of them turned out to be guinea-pigs. One which caught his attention, as it was a bit off in terms of the usual colours associated with guinea-pigs, looked as if it was covered in blue and grey feathers. Somehow it made him think of Neville.
The place, he saw as his eyes once again came under his control and stopped their woozy dance, was one he remembered. It was a place familiar to him - very familiar even - but one he had not visited in quite some time. A person was associated with this place, he realized, and at the moment he realized this, his eyes found her just to the right of the cage, standing at her desk. At professor McGonagall’s desk. In the Transfiguration classroom.
How had he gotten to the Transfiguration classroom from the Forbidden Forest? He must have lost a bit of time, or memory, to the Killing Curse. But still, he would have expected to be in the hospital wing after the ordeal he’d gone through in the forest if someone had come and collected him. He would also have expected to feel some of the bumps, bruises, scrapes and aches that had been with him just before the Killing Curse had struck him. Now he felt fine. Better than fine, even. Well, except for the disorientation and possibly a bit of nausea.
His eyes flicked over professor McGonagall. She looked as if she’d cleaned up since the battle. Was it all over? What could possibly have happened?
In a completely uncharacteristic display of empathy, professor McGonagall tilted her head sideways a bit and frowned down at him as she spoke in a soft and curious tone of voice.
“Mr. Potter, are you alright? You look a bit off your colour.”
It was then that another enormous jolt went through him, enough to literally shake him out of his reverie. She was looking down at him. The last time he had spoken to professor McGonagall, he had been a match for the tall witch’s height. There were at least two inches difference in height between them now. Something had changed, and something was terribly wrong. Could this possibly be yet another dream? He had been going back, back to the forest, back to the battle, hadn’t he?
Uncomprehending, he could only gaze up into his teacher's eyes. She, for her part, seemed to have reached some kind of limit, and she abruptly snapped back into her normal, strict persona.
"Now Mr. Potter," she spoke sharply, "there is no need to look so stricken. Finding a partner will not be a problem for you. You are a Triwizard champion, after all, and a Gryffindor to boot."
The Triwizard tournament. A partner for the dance. He was short and in Transfiguration classroom. The castle was fine and — now than he realized this — students were bustling through the corridors, sounding for all the world like there had never been a battle here at all. His face began to hurt and it took a glance at Professor McGonagall's facial expression to make him realize that an enormous, maniacal grin had fixed himself on his face. With a tremendous effort of will, he forced it back into a semblance of normality as his mind raced to comprehend the wonderful, terrible, unimaginable thing that had just happened.
"Harry…" She began, but he cut her off, taking control of the situation before it could get further out of hand.
"I'm sorry, professor," he said, still mentally beating his face back into submission, "I just had a thought about the… err… The tournament. Yes, that was it. Sorry, what were you saying?" He thought he remembered some of this conversation, and desperate hope made his insides clench painfully as he waited for his Transfiguration teacher to respond. When she did, he almost cried in relief.
"The champions and their partners," she said, slowly and clearly, “will be opening the dance at the beginning of the Yule Ball."
He nodded, again exercising considerable willpower to keep from jumping up and down in joyous exultation.
"I understand, professor," he said, allowing himself a genuine smile, "and I know just who to ask. Thank you for telling me."
Seemingly relieved that Harry was behaving normally again, Professor McGonagall nodded brusquely and gestured for him to leave the classroom. Harry took the hint and left. His mind racing, the almost walked right past Ron, who stood waiting for them just outside the door in the corridor. Ron wasted no time before grilling Harry.
"So, what'd she want?"
For years now, he had shared everything with his best friends. The three of them had become as close as they possibly could have. He could trust Ron, he knew, but when he opened his mouth to start sharing the news, enormous glaring alarm bells went off in his head. This was that time. It was the time in which he could under no circumstances speak aloud what he had been about to tell his friend, at least without ensuring that the could not possibly be overheard, even by magical means. Still, he needed his friends, and his allies, to know.
Harry made a decision. The drawing piece and way he had not felt in a long time. He would trust his friends — all of them — to help them make things better. Whatever he did now, no worse could possibly happen than what he had already gone through in the last two years. Sirius, Dumbledore, Snape and all the students and members of the order… All of it could be prevented.
"I need to talk to you and Hermione", said Harry, "in private. There are things I’ve got to tell you both that you're going to find hard to believe, but I'm going to need your help. Lots of it. I also need to go find Ginny, right away."
Ron gave him a searching look, and Harry realize just how much younger he looked than the grief stricken young man he had last seen when he had been on his way out of the castle, such a short time ago.
Only it wasn't a short time ago. It was more than three years from when he was now, and it would never, never happen that way this time around.
"Is it about the second task?" Ron finally asked as he set off towards the next lesson, Harry in tow, "And what do you need my sister for?"
Harry smiled and ignored the first question in favor of the other, more important one.
"I need to ask her to the Yule Ball," he said, "before someone else does."
Chapter 2: Friends First
It turned out that he had to discuss things with Ron and Hermione before he was able to speak to Ginny. Rebuffing Ron’s questions during their next lessons was hard, as he became quite insistent that Harry explain what he was on about during Charms class, and later again during Defense Against the Dark Arts. In that lesson especially, Harry had to be rather forceful, since letting anything slip where Professor Not—Actually—Moody could overhear might have disastrous consequences. It wasn't until they got back to the Gryffindor common room after their last lesson that Harry was able to cast the Muffliato charm around a few comfortable chairs and begin his abbreviated explanation of everything that was going to happen."Listen carefully," he said, giving both of his friends a very serious look, "and don't interrupt. I need to tell you something you'll find really shocking, but I promise it's a good thing for all of us in the end." Hermione, being who she was, couldn't resist asking a question right then.
"What was that spell you cast just now?" she asked, moving her finger in approximation of his earlier wand movements. Harry smiled, noticing only now that he had cast the spell silently.
"That's the Muffliato charm," he said, "which you are not supposed to learn for another two years or so." Sensing that she was about to continue asking questions, Harry held up his hand. "Look," he said, "this will all go much faster and make more sense if you can just let me talk without interruptions. Please trust that the spell I just cast makes it harder for people to overhear what we have to say."
Hermione nodded, and so did Ron. They both looked apprehensive.
"First of all," Harry spoke, "while I am Harry Potter, I'm not entirely the Harry Potter you know. Earlier today in Professor McGonagall's class, I somehow returned from three years or so into our future…"
He stuck to generalities, but told them in no uncertain terms that the war against Voldemort was about to begin in earnest, and that he knew how to defeat the dark wizard. They both listened without speaking, though their facial expressions spoke volumes in terms of their inner thoughts. When he was done summarizing the broad scope of events as he had witnessed them, Harry sat back and motioned to them that they could ask questions now. Uncharacteristically, it was Ron who spoke up first.
"So what does this have to do with you asking my sister to the Yule Ball?" he demanded, pointing an accusing finger at Harry, who could only stare and blink in astonishment. Had Ron not been listening at all for the last few minutes? Hermione, who had had her mouth open to drop in a question of her own, swallowed whatever it was she was going to ask and raised both eyebrows.
“You’ve asked Ginny to the Ball?” Her question came out in a tone that dripped with skepticism, and Harry understood why. He would not have believed it of himself either, the first time he had experienced the year of the Triwizard Tournement. On reflection, he had been exceedingly stupid at the time. Of course, there had been the matter of his worries about the tasks he had to perform, as well as the constant media hassle he had become involved in. This time, though, he had an advantage that nobody else had - and that nobody else knew he had, except for these two friends.
“I haven’t yet,” he admitted, “but I’ll be asking her as soon as I spot her.” While Hermione only responded with a grin, Ron raised a finger.
"I’m just saying that if you're, what, seventeen now,” he charged on, frowning as he spoke, “why ask a thirteen-year old girl to the Ball?"
Harry laughed.
"Ron, really," he said, "I'm… What age are we now, anyway? I guess I'm fourteen, just like you. It's just that… I ended up going with the wrong person last time, and for the wrong reasons. Ginny's special to me, and I'd like to fix that mistake at least, if nothing else." Ron turned an interesting shade of scarlet.
"You fancy my sister." Ron's statement came out almost as an accusation. Harry just smiled and nodded.
Hermione had been staring at Harry throughout this entire exchange, and now turned towards Ron.
"Ron," she said, distracting the redhead from whatever he was about to say, "this proves what Harry just explained to us."
Harry felt his face contort into a questioning frown not too different from the one he saw forming on Ron’s face. Hermione wasted no time and started to explain.
"Think about it," she said, glancing back and forth between her friends, "Harry just blatantly admitted to fancying Ginny, without even blushing. Have you ever known him to share his feelings with us at all?"
Ron's frown only deepened, but Harry thought he knew where she was going with this line of reasoning.
"Also," she continued, seemingly gathering steam, "as far as I was aware, Harry was more interested in Cho Chang until earlier today. We passed her in the corridor and he didn't so much as glance in her direction. I thought that was strange at the time, but this explains it."
She faced Harry again.
"What happened with Cho in your… previous timeline?"
"It wasn't pretty," was all Harry replied, but Hermione nodded as if her suspicions have been confirmed.
"And Ginny?" Hermione's question was the obvious follow-up and he had been expecting it, but he still needed to swallow a sudden lump in his throat.
"We didn't have long together," he finally said, "before we had to split up, so I could go fight Voldemort."
Ron spluttered something unintelligible after that, but Harry was distracted by a flash of red near the portrait hole. There she was, looking far younger than he remembered, but definitely still making his heart do a back flip as the portrait slid aside to admit her into the common room. He bounded to his feet before it had even swung completely open, and trusted in Hermione to keep Ron under control long enough. Trotting up to the portrait hole, he stopped her just as she was about to step through.
"Hi Ginny," he said, hearing a strange breathless quality to his own voice, "can I have a word with you?"
Ginny raised both eyebrows. After a moment, Harry realized she was waiting for him to elaborate.
"...outside?" The question came out sounding rather lame, but she only nodded and stepped back into the corridor outside Gryffindor Tower.
Harry followed suit and, once the Fat Lady has swung herself shut again, glanced around. Aside from the portraits, the corridor was empty.
"Hi," he said. This had not been what he had intended to say, but his mouth had apparently decided to start moving on its own.
"Hi," responded Ginny. She had tilted her head slightly, as if he was a puzzle she was trying to solve. At least she was speaking to him, which was better than she had done during the first several years that he had known her.
"So I was wondering," he said, desperately forcing himself to sound cool and collected even though his insides were playing host to a huge swarm of butterflies, "if you had a date for the Yule Ball yet."
While she didn’t really go rigid, as if she had been petrified, her face seemed to lose a bit of its colour and her eyes opened a bit wider than usual. After staring at him for a few seconds as if she were a deer caught in the headlights of an onrushing Muggle truck, she shook her head in a decidedly jerky motion. Inwardly, Harry smiled. She wasn’t as relaxed around him as he had hoped, but at least she hadn’t run away.
"Well," he continued, feeling a bit smoother now, "then would you... do me the honor of... being my partner for the Ball?"
Ginny's mouth fell open, but she snapped it shut quickly and gave him a searching look.
"Me?" The question came out a bit squeakily, but she continued in a firmer voice. "You’re Harry Potter," she said, gaining momentum as she spoke, sounding almost angry, “you’re a Triwizard champion, and you're famous. And you're asking me to the ball. Are you trying to have a laugh at my expense?"
Not having expected this reaction at all, Harry could only reply honestly.
"No, I really want to go to the ball with you," he said, then added quickly: "if you want to go with me, that is. If you'd rather go with someone else, that's okay. I was just hoping that…"
He trailed off, feeling the blush he had been holding back by sheer force of will finally creep onto his cheeks. Ginny was studying him again, her head tilted a bit. Several strands of her long red hair were draped over her left shoulder, and he had to resist the urge to reach out and tuck them behind her ear. That would definitely be inappropriate, here and now.
"All right," Ginny said. As Harry sighed and smiled in relief, Ginny glanced around. "Fred," she shouted, "George, you can come out now! Have your laugh!"
Hastily, Harry looked around, expecting Ginny's twin brothers to materialize. When they didn't, Ginny's face suddenly broke into a huge grin.
"You really weren't joking," she exclaimed, slapping her hand over her mouth as if to keep herself from saying anything more.
"Nope," Harry said, grinning right back at her, "so now we're going to the ball together, yeah?"
Ginny just nodded, her hand still over her mouth.
---
The Hogwarts gossip network was ablaze about the fact that Harry Potter had asked Ginny Weasley to the ball before Harry had even managed to get back to his seat in the common room. The fact that they had both stepped back through the portrait hole grinning like idiots only added fuel to the fire. Within moments, all the girls in the room (with the exception of Hermione and Ginny) were discussing everything they knew — or had ever suspected — about Ginny.
It didn't take Hermione long to notice that Ginny looked a bit lost, and she soon got up to join her younger friend, leaving Ron and Harry alone in their quiet little corner. Ron broke the silence as soon as she was out of earshot.
"Don't mess her about," he said, looking Harry in the eyes for the first time since he had gotten back, "she's my sister."
Remembering how little Ron had always been able to express himself in situations like these, Harry just nodded. Ron seemed to be satisfied with this response, since he gave a curt nod of his own, and abruptly changed the subject.
"So," he said, "I guess you know what to do in the second task then?"
Harry nodded, musing to himself about how today marked a new occasion for him. He had never before actually asked Ginny to go on a date with him. Oh well, there must be a first time for everything, he decided.
Chapter 3: A Meeting in Memory
It took him several tries of different kinds of sweets — much to Harry's chagrin, he found that his memory for Albus Dumbledore's passwords was not as perfect as he would have liked — before the gargoyle guarding the headmaster's office let them pass. Eventually, though, he found himself on the moving, spiraling staircase he had descended less than a day ago in the ruined castle. His friends and fellow Gryffindors had turned in for the night and he had used his invisibility cloak to walk here undetected, taking it off only when he stepped past the gargoyle.Albus Dumbledore, as Harry had suspected, was still awake and fully dressed, and he found the headmaster sitting at his desk, quill in hand, making notes in what looked like a very old tome. As Harry stepped into the office, Dumbledore glanced up at him over the half-moon spectacles which were balanced on the tip of his crooked nose.
"Good evening, Harry," he spoke, raising both eyebrows, "I would ask how you managed to bypass our ingenious security measures in order to find yourself in my office at this unusual hour, but I find that my curiosity extends more into the why of the matter. To what do I owe this unexpected visit?"
Harry smiled in spite of himself. Dumbledore was, as always, perfectly calm and collected. He wondered if he would be able to shock the headmaster a bit, just this once. While he had been mentally preparing for this meeting, Harry had decided that for once, he would dispense with all the secrecy and simply get to the point. He had chosen an extremely simple approach. Now was the time to put his plan into action.
"Good evening, headmaster," he said, nodding to his old mentor. He then slowly but deliberately pulled out his wand and cast the Muffliato charm to keep anyone outside the office from listening in.
The only response Albus Dumbledore gave to this was a slight upward curve of his lips.
"Sorry sir," Harry continued, "but there is something we need to discuss and there is someone who definitely shouldn't be allowed to listen in."
Dumbledore sat back in his chair and, after motioning Harry into the plush, comfortable chair opposite him, simply steepled his fingers and gazed at Harry with his most penetrating stare.
"I will need to use your Pensieve, professor," Harry said, flicking his wand at the cupboard that held the memory bowl. It opened, and the Pensieve floated obediently towards him until it rested on the desk between them. Harry put the tip of his wand to his temple, but then realized that he did not know how memories were extracted. Was there a spell involved? He glanced at Dumbledore, who merely nodded and spoke.
"Focus clearly on the memory you want to share," he instructed, "then imagine sending that memory into the tip of your wand. Your wand will then do the rest of the work."
It took only two attempts for Harry to begin extracting the most important highlights from the last years, and Dumbledore frowned as he began to catch glimpses of what the memories now flowing into the Pensieve contained. Still, he did not speak, but merely waited patiently.
“I’ve got a lot to tell you, Professor,” Harry said when he had extracted the last of the most important memories. Though he knew exactly what he was about to show the Headmaster, he suddenly felt apprehensive. Taking a deep breath, he continued: “I need to show you things. It’s really hard to explain, but please be sure that it will all make sense once you’ve seen it.”
Albus Dumbledore, unperturbed, simply nodded. And so, several seconds later, the two of them found themselves stepping through abbreviated scenes from Harry’s personal memories. He had gotten the idea from Snape, whose last ditch effort to communicate the secrets entrusted to him had been the catalyst that brought him to this moment. In the Pensieve, Dumbledore saw first hand how Voldemort was resurrected and how Harry had subsequently escaped with Cedric’s body. Harry’s trial at the Ministry followed the unmasking of Barty Crouch, and was in turn followed by the death of Sirius and the duel between Voldemort and Dumbledore at the Ministry. From there, Harry showed short moments taken from the lessons he had had with the Headmaster, finally showing Dumbledore his own death at the hands of Severus Snape at the top of the Astronomy Tower. All the while, he kept up a rolling commentary. The Headmaster showed little reaction on seeing his own demise, and as Harry’s narrative moved on, they reviewed the locations of all the Horcruxes and how they had been destroyed, culminating in the moment where Harry himself had stood before Voldemort and accepted his own death.
As they emerged from the Pensieve, Dumbledore sat back in his chair, breathing uncharacteristically heavily. Glancing at the Headmaster’s face, Harry was surprised to see tears glistening on the old man’s cheeks. While he was not surprised that the memories of the future Harry had just shared with him had shocked Dumbledore, he had never seen the man show such emotion before. Still, he realized that it was a lot to be confronted with, and he kept silent while Dumbledore took a moment to process all he had seen.
“Dear Harry,” the Headmaster finally began, several minutes later, “what you have shown me today is remarkable, quite remarkable indeed. I assume, based on the clarity of these memories, that they are not simply visions of the future, but that you have, in fact, experienced them?”
Harry nodded, letting Dumbledore talk as he tried to put things in perspective.
“Yet you did not show me the outcome of this conflict,” the old man continued, “which implies that the end might not, as Muggles say, justify the means?”
“I don’t know how the conflict would have ended,” Harry answered, “because the moment I was hit by the Killing Curse, I suddenly found myself back in Professor McGonagall’s classroom in the middle of the Triwizard Tournament. I think I’ve traveled back in time by about three years, Professor.”
The eyes that had twinkled at him so often from behind those half-moon spectacles turned to steel in a slow transformation that reminded Harry of the true power the man across from him commanded.
“What you have shown me has confirmed many of my suspicions,” spoke Dumbledore, nothing in his voice betraying the determination showing on his face, “but it has also made me, ah, re-evaluate some of the plans I have been setting in motion. I take it you agree with me that such wholesale destruction, as well as the harm that would come to many of the people you know and love, is not part of a desirable future?”
Harry gave a mirthless chuckle, then simply shook his head.
“Then, since you and I are apparently older friends than I had previously imagined,” the Headmaster continued, “let us plan the war that Voldemort will lose.”
Chapter 4: Dress Robes
To Harry’s surprise, the plans they made did not include rushing down to the fake Professor Moody’s office, stunning him and freeing his real counterpart, then Apparating to the Riddle house with fifty Aurors and blasting anyone inside to smithereens. He had to admit that Dumbledore’s more subtle strategies, combined with his own knowledge of the future he had lived, offered a more complete solution to the problem facing the Wizarding world.The subtleties of the strategy they had decided upon required that Harry would continue in his role of Triwizard Champion. This part was not only necessary but, Harry himself thought, quite pleasant as it afforded him the opportunity to fix one thing he should have done right in his first try at this year. That thing was, unfortunately, also a source of some major concern for Harry as it was a deviation from the original time line and he could not predict what the fallout of that change might be. In discussing it with the Headmaster, he had come to the conclusion that one such minor change could not be expected to have major implications for the events to come. Harry had to dance with someone at the Yule Ball, and since the role his original partner had played was extremely minor, they had written off this change as inconsequential. At the end of their midnight meeting, Harry had decided to run one errand before finally turning in for the night. He also put a note on Ron’s bedside table before turning in.
So it was that a few days later, two owls each dropped a large, flat rectangular package on the Gryffindor table during breakfast. One landed in front of Ron, the other in front of Ginny. The boxes were relatively light, but they made quite an impact as due to their size they knocked over pumpkin juice goblets and sent sprays of the fruity beverage in all directions. As one might expect though, this was a common occurrence during breakfast, and all it meant for the students around both Weasleys was a laugh and a bit of practice with siphoning charms.
The two redheads bent forward to be able to exchange glances across Harry and Hermione, who were sitting between them. Ron had read Harry’s message and had made a bit of a fuss about it, waking up a bleary-eyed Harry to loudly question him about it in the dormitory. He seemed affronted by the advice, but after Harry shared a bit more information about the original Yule Ball with him - having lavishly applied Muffliato and other silencing charms before speaking - Ron had relented and, his ears already turning red, left the dormitory. Harry hadn’t asked him about it since, deeming it his friend’s own responsibility what he did with the advice he’d been given, but he hoped Ron had been quick enough off the mark this time around.
“What’s this then,” Ron asked his sister, who was sitting on Harry’s left. She just made a puzzled face at him.
“Looks like mine’s from Madam Malkin’s,” she replied, holding up the package and showing him the wrapping paper. It bore a sticker with the store’s name and logo which made it clearly recognizable. Ron’s eyes went back to his own package, then back to his sister.
“Well I can see that,” he grumbled, “but I didn’t order anything. Did you?”
“It’s probably mum,” Ginny replied, shaking her head. Then she found the little card dangling from it. “Hey, look, it’s got a card.”
Hermione, meanwhile, was attempting to bore a hole in the right side of Harry’s head with the intensity of her speculative stare. He turned his head just a bit to help her meet his gaze. She lifted one eyebrow, and he quirked up one side of his mouth in answer. Then, with a wink, he turned to the girl on his left.
“So does mine,” said Ron, and he yanked it towards himself hard enough to create a tear in the wrapping paper. “It just says ‘To Mr. Ronald Weasley, with compliments’, with no signature.” He started tearing off the paper, exposing the white box beneath. It was a very nice box, made of a sort of stiff parchment, decorated and held closed with a red ribbon.”
Ginny, in the meanwhile, had read her card silently and now met Harry’s eyes. Her eyebrows had gone up again, making her face assume that open, puzzled expression he remembered her using less and less as she got older. Her eyes flicked from his to the box and back. He just winked and nodded, at which point she could also no longer contain her curiosity and started tearing off the paper. Her box was red, and much more lavishly decorated than Ron’s, boasting images of flowers, musical notes and the outlines of flowing robes as wizards danced among them. It was an elegant, expensive looking box, and it was held shut with a green ribbon, the bow looking so much like a flower that it must have been transfigured somehow.
“Wow,” Harry heard Ron mutter on his right, but he kept his eyes on Ginny. She, in turn, was staring at the box in wonder.
“Ooh,” said Lavender Brown, apparently determined to intrude, “that’s a tailored dress robe. They don’t send out boxes like that for confection robes. What did the card say?”
“That’s none of your business,” mumbled Ginny, still staring at the box as if deciding whether to open it at all.
Her eyes, again, connected with his.
“Harry,” she said, unnecessarily, he though, as she already had his attention, “can we talk, in private?”
Thinking he might know what she wanted to discuss, he just lifted his shoulders, gave her his best lopsided grin and got up. She silently picked up the box and stood up, following her towards the exit. Behind him, Ron seemed to wake up a bit.
“Oi,” he exclaimed, “where are you lot off to?”
“Shut up and leave them alone, Ron,” Hermione said, not unkindly, “and show me those robes. I need to make sure we’ll match.”
In the back of his mind, Harry reflected on how amazingly good a friend Hermione was, and how perceptive she was about things that the rest of them - at that age, at least - had been completely clueless about. The rest of his mind was gearing up for a confrontation with Ginny. He had a feeling she was going to protest being given something this expensive.
Wordlessly, Ginny lead him all the way back up to Gryffindor tower and, on seeing the empty common room, to a pair of comfortable armchairs. There, she sat down. He did the same, and observed Ginny closing her eyes and taking a deep breath before speaking. What came out was not what he expected.
“Sorry I dragged you all the way up here,” she said, her eyes still closed, “but I wanted to open this in private.”
She opened her eyes and looked at him.
“I’m not used to getting expensive presents, Harry,” she continued, “and, well, having everyone stare at me while I open this just frankly made me nervous.”
Harry took a moment to gather his thoughts before replying. Her gaze, fixed as it was on his eyes, didn’t help. He decided to be honest with her.
“I thought you might be angry at me,” he confessed. “Ron’s always really uptight about… Well, you know.”
“Us being poor,” Ginny finished for him. Her face revealed little of what she thought about this.
“You being poor,” Harry confirmed. “But you’re not, you know.”
Ginny’s raised eyebrows spoke volumes.
“You’ve got something I would trade in my vault for without a second thought,” he said. When she just held his gaze for a while, he explained. “Your family. You have parents who love you and do everything they can to help you. You have brothers and cousins and aunts and uncles…”
He had expected her to laugh and dismiss them, but to his shock, he saw Ginny’s eyes turn dark with what might be the beginnings of tears.
“You really grew up alone, didn’t you,” she mumbled, keeping his gaze. When he shrugged, trying to dismiss her interpretation of his early life, she continued. “I used to fantasize about what it would be like to be your friend, you know.”
Her cheeks were definitely turning a bit pink under her freckles, Harry saw. Wondering where she was going with this, he let her talk.
“And then I met you in person,” she continued, “and I heard Ron’s stories about you, and about what the Muggles you live with were like, and I wanted to be your friend even more. But I couldn’t talk to you. I didn’t think you even noticed me. And now suddenly you’ve asked me to the Yule Ball, and that was already a shock. And now this…”
She gestured at the still unopened box on her lap. Then she drew in a breath and, as if trying to make sure she couldn’t chicken out of what she wanted to say, went on in a sudden rush of words.
“It’s like you suddenly changed a few days ago,” she blurted, “from brooding and preoccupied and only confiding in Ron and Hermione to happy and energized and open, and it’s like something weird happened to you that caused you to forget your worries, and now I’m wondering if you’re under some kind of spell or potion or something, or even that all of this is some kind of elaborate prank the twins are setting up, and I’ve never been given an expensive gift like this before and I’m wondering…”
She slowed down here, as if forcing herself to calm down, and took a deep breath before continuing.
“I’m wondering what it all means.”
Harry closed his mouth, realizing that it had fallen open during her sudden flood of words, and thought furiously for a moment. Well, he guessed, it couldn’t be helped. She had to find out some time. It was time for another Muffliato charm.
“Well, to be truthful,” he answered, “something did happen. But it’s not anything like what you think, and I’m not under the Imperius curse if that’s what you’re wondering.”
And so he found himself, haltingly and carefully considering every word, telling her about the future. He left out as many details as he could, mentioning the war against Voldemort only as “the final battle that didn’t go so well”, and admitted to her that he had returned from the future to try and get things right this time.
After several seconds of silence, Ginny closed her mouth in an echo of his own, earlier moment of astonishment.
“You’re having me on,” she mumbled, “aren’t you?”
Harry, regrettably but firmly, shook his head.
“Honest truth, I swear,” he admitted.
“So, you’ve really just come back in time to fight You-Know-Who,” she said, sounding more skeptical than ever, “and the first thing you do is ask me to the Yule Ball? How does that fit into anything?”
“Just timing, I guess,” said Harry, grinning, “but yeah, I wanted to ask you. And of course I’ve been plotting with Professor Dumbledore since then to take down Voldemort. Don’t tell anyone though, the plan’s still a tightly kept secret.”
Ginny just shook her head and dropped her eyes to the box in her lap. After a moment, she began fiddling with the ribbon.
“You know,” she said, suddenly thoughtful, “I think this might just be the first time you’ve ever bought me a present.”
“Not to mention having an actual conversation with you,” he added, earning a smile.
Chapter 5: Ridiculous, Awkward and Mental
Harry and Ginny spent more time together after that. While she still spent most of her time with the Gryffindors in her own year, her inclusion in the “Harry is a time traveler” circle naturally made her a closer part of the group that had previously included only Harry, Ron and Hermione. In that group, they now had things to discuss that previously would have been impossible for them to know, and speculation about the tasks to come had turned into in-depth strategy brainstorms based on what Harry already knew about the tasks. Getting to know Ginny better was a great reward for Harry, as she now opened up much more to him than she had before - the awkwardness between them having made place for a much more comfortable friendship.On the side, Harry visited Dumbledore in his office at night sometimes to plan out details for the resolution of the Voldemort situation. More and more, Harry was beginning to see this not as a desperate struggle now, but more as a game of chess. The way Dumbledore put his pieces on the board, as well as how he thought many moves ahead for all the parties involved in the conflict, was fascinating to behold. Even when they had previously been visiting the memories about Tom Riddle, the emphasis had been on understanding their foe. Now, the emphasis was on planning and setting a trap. Now, he was learning what it felt like to think like an Auror.
And so, with his mind more or less free of unnecessary worries for the time being, Harry decided that there was one thing left to do before the Yule Ball.
“Where are we going?” asked Ron for what felt like the fifteenth time since they had left Gryffindor tower on the Saturday before the dance.
“I told you,” said Harry, allowing some of the exasperation he felt to enter his voice, “it’s a brilliant secret that you’ll enjoy more if I don’t spoil it by telling you all the details.” Hermione and Ginny both laughed, while Ron just descended into a surly silence for a while. Harry assumed that he’d break out of it in time to ask the same question one more time before they arrived at their destination.
In the appropriate corridor, Harry pulled out the Marauder’s Map to check if anyone would be passing by. He paid special care to Barty Crouch (as he showed up on the map), who he spotted walking outside with Professor Dumbledore. Satisfied, he proceeded to walk past a blank piece of wall three times, framing the request in his mind with great care, until the door he had been waiting for appeared. With all three of the others staring at him with their mouths open, he pulled open the door and gestured them all in.
“Is that the Room of Requirement?” Hermione’s question came as no surprise to Harry, but the Weasleys both shifted their stares to her.
“Otherwise known as the Come-And-Go Room, or the Room of Hidden Things, you mean?” Harry couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Have you finally picked up a copy of ‘Hogwarts, a History’ then,” quipped Hermione, stepping past him into the room, “or did you know that some other way?”
“Actually,” he said, laughing now, “you told me that. I think it was about a year from now.”
The Weasley siblings, exchanging a quick exasperated glance, stepped into the room after Hermione. Just past the door, they all stopped.
“It’s a ballroom,” said Hermione in astonishment, “How on Earth did you fit a ballroom in such a small space?”
Harry walked to the center of the room and silently asked the room for a record player with some of the Weird Sisters’ music.
“Right,” he said, facing his friends, “I need your help with something I’ve not been able to master so far. I need you all to help me learn how to dance.”
Ron made a choking kind of noise that, to Harry’s ears, sounded distinctly stressed. Ginny and Hermione just exchanged smiles. They had probably both figured this out as soon as they had seen the ballroom. His friend had never been much of a dancer, he had recently already realized, and neither had he himself. This was not so much a problem for as far as he and Ginny would be concerned, as they would have to get on the dance floor any way during the Yule Ball, but it would help the future greatly if Ron would actually ask Hermione to dance during the Ball. And so, Harry had chosen to spend some time on working on that particular bit of anxiety early, while they had time to do it without the drama that would occur if their first attempt was during the Yule Ball.
“This,” he said as he turned on the record player, “is the song that Ginny and I will be dancing to when we open the Yule Ball. I’d like to practice a few steps so we don’t look too…”
“Ridiculous?” interjected Ginny.
“Awkward?” added Hermione.
“Mental,” concluded Ron.
“Take your pick,” said Harry, grinning, then continued, adopting a most Percy-like attitude, “but I must ensure that we make the best impression we can, in the spirit of international magical cooperation and sportsmanship, and other such tosh.”
Ginny stepped up to him, then boldly took him by the hand and lead him onto the dance floor a short distance away from the still awkwardly hovering Ron and the shyly expectant Hermione.
“Let’s give the lovebirds a moment to themselves, shall we?” The way she said it made Harry frown even as he took her awkwardly by the waist and made a careful attempt at leading her into a simple dancing step he had been practicing for the last few days.
“So,” he said, feeling her follow him even though he managed to step on her toes twice in the first four steps, “you see it too, then?”
“Everyone sees it,” Ginny said, glancing at them covertly - or rolling her eyes, Harry couldn’t quite tell - as she yanked him in a different direction, “now stop trying to lead me and I’ll teach you how to dance properly.”
Laughing out loud, Harry let Ginny beat him into shape while Ron and Hermione awkwardly went through their first steps on the dance floor. Things were going quite splendidly, he mused. Even though she was still leading, he was getting the hang of not stepping on her toes, and soon, possibly, he might be trusted with steering them for a while. For a first dance, it wasn’t all that bad.
Chapter 6: Having a Ball
As they all gathered in the Common Room, Harry ensure that he was ready long before it was time to go down to the Great Hall for the dinner and dance. This time around, there was no need to help Ron remodel his dress robes, and they were both actually looking forward to the Yule Ball - something that had been a lot less true several years in Harry’s past. Of course, it helped that they both had their preferred dates - even Ron admitted to that now - and that there was no imminent threat of death looming over them. Harry had already put in an owl order for a liberal supply of Gillyweed, and had even splurged on some useful underwater equipment, such as a waterproof watch and a diving knife. This all meant that his thoughts could be simply on the present for now, and he reveled in having no worse problems than making sure his date would be happy during the Yule Ball. As he sat waiting for Ginny in one of the plush armchairs by the fire, he reflected on the fact that after all he had already been through in his life, an evening in which he would have to be the center of attention for a while would be no challenge at all.And so, it was with a huge, relaxed smile that he stood up to greet Ginny as she arrived at the bottom of the stairs of the girls’ dormitory. The smile was not just for the fact that he was glad to see her and looked forward to spending a great evening at the Yule Ball with her and his friends, but also showed his amusement at the self-conscious way she walked into the common room. She was a different Ginny from anything he had seen before in the dress he had ordered for her. The dress was chosen for its colouring, but he had left the details up to Madam Malkin after simply specifying that he needed a dress for the Yule Ball, what his preferred price range was, and who it was for. Since Ginny had been in for robe fittings that year, Madam Malkin had still had her measurements. The result had become a floor length emerald green gown which, Harry had to admit, cast Ginny in a completely new light. And she was obviously nervous about wearing it, taking care not to brush it against the walls of the stairway and holding it up so it kept away from the floor.
“You are…” he began a bit breathlessly, but then hesitated when he realized he had no idea what to say. She looked at him expectantly, and he found himself grinning and continuing, as if his mouth had developed a mind of its own: “You’re looking so good I can’t find any words for it.”
Ginny rewarded him with a brilliant smile, then twirled on the spot and struck a pose to show off her dress.
“I’ve never worn anything remotely like this,” she exclaimed, then leaned in close and whispered: “but I’m afraid to move in it, because I want to keep it safe. It’s really scary. What if I get a big stain on it that won’t come off again? This isn’t the kind of dress you just wear once, you know.”
Harry laughed, but Ron interrupted them before he could speak.
“Wow,” he exclaimed, as if he had been saving up that word during their entire conversation so far, “Harry, did you buy her that dress? It’s amazing!”
Ginny made an elegant little curtsy to her brother in acknowledgment of the compliment.
“It is sort of the colour of fresh pickled toad, though,” Ron continued in a thoughtful voice, “don’t you think? Goes well with your eyes, Harry.”
Ginny had the grace to smile as a pink flush once again crept up behind her freckles. Harry decided to be a gentleman about it, and whacked the back of Ron’s head with his open hand.
“Git,” he grunted, without much venom, “that’s my date you’re talking to.”
“That’s my sister you’re dating,” Ron replied smartly, “and if you’re not careful I’ll withdraw my permission.”
“Try to do anything like that and you can try and dance with Hermione with one broken leg,” Ginny said in a sweet voice that made the hair on Harry’s neck stand up very straight.
“Remind me to be a gentleman tonight,” Harry told her, “I wouldn’t want to get on your bad side.”
“You’re the hero who saved the world from You-Know-Who,” Ginny said, turning a sly smile on him, “so you’ve got some credit with me.”
At that point, all the voices in the common room dimmed and stopped, and Harry’s eyes, seeking the source of the disturbance, flicked over Ron’s face. His friend was staring, open mouthed, at something behind him. Everyone else seemed to be looking in the same direction, and Harry turned slowly to face the focus of their attention.
Hermione looked just like he remembered her. She, like Ginny, was a different Hermione, her hair straightened and sleek, her dress blue and floaty, and her posture more elegant than they would see for a long time. In fact, Harry could not remember her looking so well dressed up for a party until Bill and Fleur’s wedding which, he hoped, would still take place in about two and a half years. Becoming aware that Ron was just standing there, gaping, he poked him with his elbow.
“Go say hi,” he whispered to his friend, “girls like it when you say hi.”
Ron squeaked, then stepped forward until he was just in front of Hermione.
“Hi,” he said, his voice unnaturally high, “you, err, you look so good I can’t find any words for it.”
Ginny opened her mouth, but Harry preempted her.
“Don’t say anything, Ginny Weasley,” he whispered in her ear, stopping her just before she was about to utter something that would clearly have sparked off an argument between siblings, “and give your brother a break. He’s not the romance king of the Wizarding World, and if you give him trouble now, it’ll take him another three years to get his act together. Not to mention that business with Lavender Brown…”
Ginny, diverted, gaped at him.
“It took him that long to snog Hermione?” Her question was immediately followed by another. “And what about Lavender Brown?”
“I’ll tell you some of it over dinner,” Harry promised, “though we have to be careful who might overhear.”
And talk they did (and careful they were), on their way to the Great Hall, during dinner, and even on their way to the dance floor for the opening dance of the Yule Ball. To the tunes of the Weird Sisters, they showed off what they had practiced, and then settled into an evening of fun, dancing and talking with friends. It didn’t take Ron long to get Hermione onto the dance floor as well, and the four of them danced and sang and drank butterbeers and, in Harry’s opinion, had a far better time than they had ever done in the original life he had lead. It wasn’t until Ron and Hermione had gone off to get drinks, the Weird Sisters had started playing a particularly slow song and Harry and Ginny found themselves revolving slowly on the dance floor that anyone broached a serious subject - but when she did, Ginny did have a rather complicated topic in mind.
“So Harry,” she began, actually snuggling into him a bit as they shuffled along to the tune of ‘I can’t escape your spell’, “you’ve been here before, yeah?”
Harry just hummed an affirmative, enjoying the feel of her too much to pull back and look her in the eye while walking. He did glance around quickly, but didn’t see Professor Crouch-Turned-Moody anywhere. That was not necessarily a guarantee of safety, but he decided that he would ensure nothing was said that could tip off Crouch.
“And the first thing you did when you arrived,” Ginny continued, “was ask me on a date?”
After another affirmative noise from Harry, she pulled back a bit and looked him in the eye. Regretfully, he let her create that little bit of distance.
“And did you go to this ball with me the last time?”
Harry just shook his head. He didn’t think it would be a smart plan to bring up the details of his desire for Cho Chang at the time, or even the Patil twins he and Ron had eventually settled for.
“So what happened in our future,” she asked, engaging his eyes and giving him a serious look, “to suddenly make you pick me over every other girl in Hogwarts?”
“Are you sure you want to know the details of the future?” Harry asked the question in his best impersonation of Professor Trelawny, but Ginny actually nodded.
“I want to know,” she said.
“Probably better if I show you,” he murmured, feeling himself lean in a bit closer.
When she didn’t give him any obvious signals that she was opposed to this idea, Harry kissed her lightly on the lips. When he pulled back, she giggled.
“I was hoping it would be something like that,” she said, sounding rather out of breath.
“Actually,” Harry admitted, “it was a bit less subtle. I can show you, but we’d have to go for a walk outside.”
Giggling again, she let Harry guide her to the entrance hall. A walk in the grounds would follow, in which they could possibly succeed in dodging the patrolling professors and, perhaps, discuss a few snatches of an old future. This first kiss, Harry realized as they walked out of the Great Hall, was just as sweet as their first first kiss had been, only now it had come with a great deal less anxiety. He guessed this might also count as a first date, in any universe he had ever been in.
Chapter 7: An Editorial Conclusion
The next morning, Harry awoke to the snores of his best friend. Harry had lost track of Ron and Hermione after he had left with Ginny, and they had evidently come in later than he had as he hadn’t spotted them in the common room when he had kissed Ginny goodnight, and Ron hadn’t been in his bed when Harry had turned in for the night. Whatever they had been doing, they had taken their time. He hoped they hadn’t gotten into an argument.Leaving his friend to wake up on his own terms, Harry showered and dressed, then made his way down to the common room. To his surprise, he found both Hermione and Ginny there already, both looking freshly showered and relaxed. Stepping over to Ginny, he kissed her good morning.
“Thanks for a wonderful evening yesterday,” she said.
“Yes,” Hermione said, “we were just discussing what happened yesterday to make you disappear without a trace yesterday while Ron and I were getting drinks.”
“Actually,” Ginny jumped in, “we were discussing what happened while you and I weren’t there. Hermione was telling me all about the time she spent with Ron, and why they were back so late.”
Hermione actually blushed, and Harry guffawed loudly.
“Ask Ron,” she said, suddenly timid, “and then tell me what he said. I’m curious how he feels about our… evening.”
“You seemed happy enough just now,” Ginny said, smirking.
“Oh, shut up,” grunted Hermione.
“Well, Ron’s still out cold,” said Harry, adding his smile to Ginny’s, “so it’s probably better if we go down to breakfast.”
“Wore him out, did you?” asked Ginny as they turned towards the portrait hole, earning herself another blush from Hermione.
On the way down to the great hall, Ginny kept trying to get Hermione to tell them more about whatever happened the evening before, but the other girl kept answering in monosyllables. It wasn’t until they had sat down for breakfast, joining crowds of bleary eyed students from all houses who had started to trickle into the hall, that anything out of the ordinary occurred. Hermione was in the middle of pouring herself a goblet of pumpkin juice when a tawny owl settled on the table before her, dropping the morning’s edition of the Daily Prophet in front of her. She absently fished a bit of change out of her pocket and offered it to the owl, then returned to her pouring. Ginny, whose eyes had followed the owl as it landed, suddenly pounced on the paper and violently pulled it towards herself, making Hermione squeak and spill her juice.
“What the…” exclaimed Ginny as she shook open the front page of the paper, revealing to Harry - who sat next to her - what had made her react so strongly.
On the front page, an enormous picture of Harry and Ginny in the middle of the dance floor showed the couple talking softly to each other as they swayed on the spot, then kissing, and then - in the fashion of Wizarding pictures everywhere - returning to dancing and talking. The real Harry and Ginny both stared at the picture for several seconds.
“Well,” Harry finally said, “that’s never happened to me before.”
“Me neither,” admitted Ginny.
“I guess it was to be expected, though,” said Harry, “though I have to admit that it slipped my mind that we hadn’t dealt with Rita Skeeter yet.”
“I’ll bet Hermione is really disappointed, though,” Ginny said mischievously, “her being so madly in love with you and all.”
“Yes, well,” Harry said, grinning, “I guess I’m not available for her any more. Maybe Ron can comfort her.”
As they exchanged friendly banter and joined Hermione in cursing Rita Skeeter for her sensationalist reporting, Harry mused that the life he had found here was far better than it could have been. There was still Voldemort to take care of, but there was a very solid plan in place to get that solved. That plan involved a bit of trickery and a lot of planning, but with all the allies they still had at their disposal, there was no way that it would fail. Already, the horcruxes were being retrieved from their hiding places and destroyed. Already, Sirius had replaced the bones of Tom Riddle senior with the bones of a long-dead animal.
From now on, it might not even be up to him. With the Order of the Phoenix already firmly reformed and acting against Voldemort’s plans, his only role in this story would now be distracting the rest of the Wizarding world (and Voldemort himself) by simply playing the part he had already played several years ago. In the role of Triwizard Champion, he would be working to achieve the points he needed to get a firm head start into the maze. What the rest of the Wizarding world did not know, of course, is that it would not actually be Harry who went into the maze for the third task. That honor would fall to Albus Dumbledore, to which Harry would be contributing only a few hairs. Another member of the Order would step in to fill Dumbledore’s shoes in his absence, and it would be Harry’s job to simply hide, stay out of sight and wait for the good news.
There would be good news, of course. With the preparation Dumbledore would have, and with all the Horcruxes except Nagini destroyed before the beginning of the third task, all that would be left was a well-timed strike against Voldemort’s hiding place. If they managed to capture Voldemort and his snake, they would be able to imprison him and destroy his final Horcrux, preventing his death but also rendering him completely mortal. The alternative, of course, was death for both the snake and its master. In either of those situations, Harry would be free.
For the first time, Harry felt confident that the Wizarding world would soon be rid of Voldemort. He wondered what it would be like, when - at the end of this school year - he could look forward to living a normal life. It was going to be an interesting adventure.