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Harry Potter and the Pewter Owl | ||||||
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Category: Alternate Universe, Pre-OotP Characters:Harry/Ginny, Harry/Ginny Genres: Action/Adventure, General Warnings: None Rating: PG-13 Reviews: 20 Summary: *** The author has been reminded via the e-mail address on file that this story is listed as incomplete and has not been updated in over 2 years *** *** The author has been reminded via the e-mail address on file that this story is listed as incomplete and has not been updated in over 2 years *** After the events of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, a mysterious object comes into Harry's possession. Where did it come from, and what is its purpose? Are there more like it? Why is Harry seeing fireflies? And what does it all have to do with Ginny? Hitcount: Story Total: 27823; Chapter Total: 8243 |
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and the PEWTER OWL an alternate fifth year by the mystery tramp Chapter Four Ginny's Gift The fire burnt bright in the common room, a circle of flickering lights around the bottom of Gryffindor Tower – among the only specks of light to be seen in all of the castle and its vast grounds. It was not raining at Hogwarts, and so the world was quiet there – eerily quiet apart from the occasional noise from the Forbidden Forest, impossible to identify. The grounds were empty, just as the castle would have appeared to be – if not for those few lights, sporadically placed throughout the old castle, and that glowing Gryffindor Tower. Inside the common room, Harry and the four Weasleys were gathered in the armchairs around the fire, which burnt cold for the summer heat. Having already gone to sleep for the night, and it not yet being morning, Harry was sort of lost in an in-between – it wasn't quite tomorrow, but it was no longer yesterday, either – he wasn't quite fifteen, although his birthday's eve had come and gone. The five of them were silent for awhile – perhaps the strange truth of being at Hogwarts in the middle of summer had just dawned on each of the Weasleys, now that they had had a chance to settle down, as it had dawned on Harry when he walked through the corridors alone. "So," said Harry finally, "what is going on?" "Well," said Fred, "nothing much, really." Harry blinked. "What do you mean, nothing much?" "Nothing much has happened," said George. Then, ominously, he added: "Yet." The others nodded mysteriously, except for Ginny, who was staring at the fire with her arms tight around her knees. Her little wooden chest was on the floor beside her armchair, and Harry felt strangely curious about what it held. Then, Harry followed her gaze into the fireplace, and – (The Burrow was on fire...) – was reminded of his dream, so he quickly turned his attention back to the others. "Will you just get on with it?" "Fine, fine," said George. "Whatever you like." "Our dad woke us up," said Fred, "maybe a half hour ago, all urgent-like, and said there was no time to explain anything –" "Mum woke up me and Ginny," added Ron, eager to get into the conversation as well, "and gathered us all round –" "I think we were telling the story just fine, weren't we, Fred?" "I reckon we were, George, until Ronnie here so rudely interrupted..." "Quite right, how very rude of him to inter –" "Will you all just SHUT UP? " The boys fell silent, and looked at Ginny, wide-eyed, like they'd just been slapped. "I don't see why you're all so keen on joking around about all of this," said Ginny, still not looking at them, still watching the fire. Finally, she turned around, sort of blushing, and addressed Harry directly: "Our parents told us that the Burrow wasn't safe, and that we were going to Hogwarts," said Ginny, and her voice was raw – from lack of recent use, or from something else. "And they'd set up a special Floo connection direct to Dumbledore's office, just for a few minutes, and they said there was no time to explain. So we went – or rather, we came, since we're here now." She paused for a few moments, as though she expected one of her brothers to take over, but none of them did, so she continued: "And when we got here, Dumbledore, he said that there was reason to think that maybe You-Know-Who was planning an attack on the Burrow, or something, and that we'd be better off coming here for safe keeping." She paused again, and drew a rather harsh breath – then: "I don't see why Mum and Dad and Percy couldn't come with us –" "Well, they've got to defend the Burrow, haven't they?" interjected Fred. "We should've been allowed to stay, we're practically of age," said George. "What's the use of sitting around an empty castle when you could be helping protect your home from Death Eaters?" "But aren't there like, protection spells and everything?" said Harry. "Around the Burrow? I mean, everyone knows you lot aren't exactly Voldemort's –" the rest of the group flinched. Harry continued resolutely: "– biggest fans, and – and you're close to me, certainly everybody already expected you'd sort of be a target?" "Yeah, there are loads of wards and stuff," said Ron. And then, suddenly sounding sort of grave: "...but nothing compared to what you've got, of course, and you're here too, aren't you? So this must be something big..." "– there are wards on Privet Drive?" "'Course there are!" said Ron, shocked. "You think Dumbledore would leave you with Muggles without any protection? You think Voldemort would've waited a day before just tip-toeing up your garden path and killing you in your sleep?" "...I hadn't really thought of it," Harry admitted. "But... but then you must be right, this has to be something big –" "But nothing's happened yet," repeated Fred reassuringly. "They're just taking precautions." "But when Siriu – I mean, when –" "Don't worry, they know about Sirius," said Ron. "Oh – well, when he came to get me from Privet Drive, there was somebody else there, just as I was about to leave, someone was about to open the door – it could've been a Death Eater, don't you think?" "Well," said George, "it could've been – or it could've been your fat uncle coming to yell at you for making noises in the middle of the night..." "Oh.... I hadn't thought of that," said Harry again. "I reckon," said Fred, "that there's no use worrying until we know there's reason to. For all we know this could all just be a false alarm." He looked worriedly at Ginny, who was once again absorbed in the fire. She looked terribly anxious. "I'm sure everything will be fine," he said, clearly speaking for her benefit. "I'm not sure it will," said Ginny. She took a deep breath, and then added: "I just keep picturing it." "Picturing what?" said Ron. "The Burrow. Attacked, and everything," said Ginny. "I can't get it out of my head – our house, our house, with the Mark up in the sky above it –" Harry swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. (The Burrow was on fire...) "Don't worry so much, Ginny," said George. He stood, he patted her back once, halfway between comforting and lightly shoving, and yawned exaggeratedly. "I for one am positively ecstatic to return to my beloved four-poster, and I reckon you should all do the same." There was an air of finality about his words¬ – but for some reason Harry didn't feel like obeying them. He didn't feel at all tired, despite his long, ridiculous day of working in the rain. (And, of course, he was not overly eager to return to his dreams...) Fred and Ron stood up as well, mimicking their brother's yawn, and the three of them started off towards the boys' stairs. Ron hesitated: "You coming, Harry?" "In a little while," said Harry, who felt not the least bit tired despite his ridiculous day of work. "All right, suit yourself," said Ron. He started for the stairs again, paused again, and turned back: "And don't stay up too late, Gin." And he left, not waiting for a response – which never came, anyway. Harry hadn't really realized that he wasn't the only one staying up, but yes, Ginny was still curled up in her armchair, watching the fire. When the room had been silent for a few minutes, she spoke, soft, almost too soft to be heard: "Happy birthday, by the way." Harry blinked – he had completely forgotten. "Thanks," he said, somewhat awkwardly – this seemed like such an empty diversion from the more important things happening, such a silly thing to talk about, his birthday. "My mum had a spectacular party all planned for you," said Ginny, sounding sad, almost defeated. "A great big cake, and practically a feast, and everything... I suppose that's all gone out the window, now, though, hasn't it?" "Well, that's all right," said Harry, feeling strange trying to comfort Ginny about his lost party. "I'm not really a birthday party sort of person, anyway..." Ginny gave him a sharp look, eyes jolting away from the fireplace again, this time almost by accident. "Everybody's a birthday party sort of person," she said, taken aback. "You simply must've never had a proper –" and she gasped (clearly realizing who she was speaking to) and fell silent after a murmured "sorry..." "It's all right," said Harry once again. "It's nothing to apologize about..." "Oh, but it was so stupid of me," she said, shaking her head, pressing her hand into her forehead. She was blushing vibrantly, now. "No, really, it was OK," said Harry. And he smiled, thinking it would put her at ease, but she wasn't even looking up. "To be honest, it was sort of nice, you were talking all... normal to me for a minute there –" And now it was Harry's turn to stumble over his words: "I mean, not that you're not usually normal, just that –" And Ginny laughed, very softly, more of a chuckle. "I know, I know," she said. "I've always been a total idiot around you – don't worry, I've noticed as well." "Not an idiot," said Harry quickly, "just... you know, a little –" "Don't bother, I really do already know. I was there as well." "Yeah, I suppose so," said Harry. And they were silent for a long while. Ginny sort of stared off into the darkness at the edge of the common room, chin balanced on her arms, arms folded atop her knees. Harry was lying on his chest, on a couch, folded arms propping up his face, gaze alternating between the fire and the chest on the floor. Finally, Harry said: "So... what's in the box?" "What?" said Ginny, clearly startled out of a reverie. Harry pointed. "The box, on the floor –" "Oh! My glory box," she said, smiling very slightly. "I've had it my whole life, I couldn't just leave it, at home, when home is... well, you know..." "Yeah," said Harry. Then: "But what is it?" "Oh, of course you wouldn't know, I don't know what I was... well. It's a box. And you're supposed to keep all sorts of things in it for when you... well, when you get married." "Like what sorts of things?" said Harry. Ginny blushed again. "Why are you so interested?" Harry shrugged. "I've just never heard of it before, that's all," he said. "So it seems pretty interesting, to me at least..." Another tiny smile, just a quick quirk of the lips, and she said: "Well. It was originally for things like dresses and blankets and tablecloths and things like that, but that got rather boring, so I've taken to putting in all sorts of things." Harry furrowed his brow. "All that in that tiny little box?" And Ginny laughed. "It's not as tiny as it looks," she said. She hesitated for a moment – then, steeling herself, she said: "Go on. Open it." "You sure?" said Harry, sitting upright on the couch. "I was just asking, I don't need to –" "Go ahead," said Ginny. "All right," said Harry, and he got off the couch, kneeling on the floor in front of the box – Ginny did the same, from her chair, and sat cross-legged next to him. Her face was as red as Harry had ever seen it, but there was something enlivened about her, which was a breath of fresh air after the overwhelmed-with-worry look she'd been wearing all night. Harry took hold of the lid, almost gingerly, hands on either side, and – carefully, as though worried it would break – opened it. Inside, where Harry had expected a small rectangle filled with linens, he found instead a veritable room – it must have been ten feet deep, and so wide that Harry could not see the walls. It reminded him of the trunk that Barty Crouch Jr. had kept Mad-Eye Moody locked up in, the previous year, except this was decidedly more cheerful and – there was no other way of putting it – comfy. There were the clothes and the blankets that Ginny had described, often pink or yellow and lacy, but there was also a treasure trove of what seemed to be random, obscure items – creatures made from popsicle sticks, moving photographs, old magazines, stuffed animals, the golden figure of a lion, a pile of mismatched socks, and what seemed like a thousand old birthday and Christmas cards – and, surely, there must have been a million other things, just out of sight. "Wow," he said, closing the lid, and feeling like he'd just seen something that wasn't meant for his eyes, like he'd invaded something intensely personal. But Ginny didn't seem to mind. She was still blushing, but she was smiling fully now. "It is rather spectacular, isn't it?" she said, grinning. Harry didn't really know what to say, so he just said: "Yeah." She went on: "After awhile I started putting in old birthday cards and everything, and then eventually I put in anything that had any sentimental value whatsoever. Some of the things, I don't even remember where I got them, but I was sentimental about them anyway, so I threw them in, it's..." – and her voice, which had begun excited, trailed off, limp –" ...all rather pathetic, really." Harry shook his head. "Not at all," he said, earnest. And she quirked her head to the side, looking at him in a rather sad sort of way. Then, her eyes alighted on an idea. "I'll be right back," she said, and in a moment, she had opened the box, stood, and stepped inside, and she was gone, before Harry could say another word. Part of him was afraid she would fall, because the floor of the box was so far away, but then, she clearly knew what she was doing. He peered inside the box, hesitant, for fear she would emerge just as he was leaning over it and collide with him on the way out. He watched her as she rummaged around in one of the piles on the floor, clearly looking for something specific – he watched her, and thought, This is really sort of pleasant. He had never really talked to Ginny very much at all, least of all one-on-one, because she had always seemed to have a crush on him – now, he was honestly pretty glad that she was there, at Hogwarts, along with Ron and the twins. It would be nice to have someone else to talk to once in awhile, after all, alone in an empty castle for a month, just the five of them. He had never really thought of Ginny as someone to be spoken to – she'd always sort of just been someone who was there. And then, very suddenly, she was there, popping out of the glory box as quickly as she'd gone into it. "You're going to laugh," said Ginny, holding something behind her back with both hands, "but it's your birthday, and you've already lost out on Mum's magnificent cake – and, given the circumstances, I'd reckon a laugh isn't the worst thing in the world, embarrassing or no –" "What is it?" asked Harry. "I'm getting to it," said Ginny. She sort of screwed up her face – gritting her teeth and closing one eye – and shifted her weight from one foot to the other, as though warring with herself about whether this had been a good idea or not. "Now... just bear with me. I was a very young girl..." "What is it?" "Here," she said, pulling from behind her back a folded piece of green construction paper. She tossed it in his hands, practically leapt back onto her armchair and wrapped her arms tightly around a pillow. "Don't hate me, all right?" she said, anxious. Harry looked at the paper and saw that it was a birthday card – in big block letters, written in blue crayon: And below the words, a lightning bolt, colored in yellow but somewhat greenish from the paper. Harry opened the card – on the inside, it read, in very sloppy, very childish handwriting: THANK YOU FOR EVERTHING! Harry grinned, and looked up at Ginny, who was practically cowering behind the pillow, now. "'Thank you for everthing?'" "I know, I know, I spelt everything wrong," said Ginny, her voice muffled from the pillow. "Forgive me, all right? I was six." "I forgive you," said Harry, but then: "Wait, what was everthing?" "I told you, it was supposed to be every –" "No, no, I mean, why were you thanking me?" Ginny let the pillow fall limp in her arms, and stared at him for a good thirty seconds, mouth slightly open. "You do realize you sort of saved the world when you were a baby?" she said. "You have heard about that, yes?" "Oh... right." "Yes, right," said Ginny. She sighed: "I thought I was being so cool, you know, so thoughtful, thanking you... I thought, you know, he lives with Muggles, I bet nobody's ever thanked him for defeating You-Know-Who, I'll be the first! And he'll think I'm the nicest girl in the whole world, and..." She trailed off. "You get the point. I was so pathetic..." "Well, maybe," said Harry, "but you were right. Nobody ever thanked me – I mean, not for the Voldemort thing – I mean – I'm pretty sure the Dursleys have never said 'thanks' to me once in fourteen years... other than, you know... 'something something something, thank-you-very-much...'" "...t hat's terrible," said Ginny, after a moment. "You get used to it," said Harry. He looked down at the card again, closed it, absent-mindedly ran a finger down the zig-zag of the lightning bolt. "Anyway... thank you." "Ha," said Ginny. "No, I mean it. You made this when you were six, you said?" "Well, five and eleven months, but pretty much, yeah." "So that makes this my first birthday card," said Harry. And Ginny smiled. "I guess so," she said. Then, she shook her head. "I can't believe I actually gave that to you," she said. "I am in disbelief that I would –" "Well, I'm glad you did," interjected Harry. Then: "I reckon we should probably get to bed?" "Probably," said Ginny. And so she closed the lid of the glory box, and picked it up. They doused the heatless fire, and parted ways at the staircase – Ginny headed up to the girls' dormitory with the box, a tiny bit emptier than it had been before – and Harry headed up to the boys' dormitory to dream of the Burrow in flames. |
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