With very little unusual happenings, at least for Hogwarts, most of the first term of school passed quickly. (There was the day that Professor Quirrell had run screaming into the Great Hall about a troll loose in the dungeons, but the teachers had taken care of it and Harry never even saw the thing, despite numerous attempts. Percy kept on catching him and Ron trying to sneak off. And then there was the disastrous first Quidditch match in which Harry had been thrown from his bucking broomstick, only to catch the snitch in his mouth on the way down. They never did figure out who had been cursing his broom. But Harry preferred not to mention those.) The Weasleys were taking a trip to Romania to visit their second oldest son, Charlie, and taking Ginny with them, so Harry invited Ron over to his house for Christmas break. Harry had been hoping that Sirius would have the animagus potion ready for them by break, but Sirius had had some difficulty obtaining one of the ingredients. He kept complaining about how only nutters like Snape had any, and he couldn’t very well break in to Snape’s private stores for some again–as they had done last time. At first, Harry had been quite upset by the delay. But Ginny had pointed out to him (she was the only one who knew about the plan to become animagi) that she wouldn’t be able to start learning until next year anyways, and did he really want to leave her out? Harry had learned from experience that he should listen whenever Ginny took this tone of voice (communicating via a piece of paper did nothing to diminish his ability to recognize the tone) and reluctantly agreed. But Harry first exacted a rather alarming assurance from Sirius that he would come through on his promise to find a fencing teacher for Harry over the summer.

Exactly why Sirius wanted him to learn fencing was a mystery. He didn’t think he would be able to kill Voldemort in a sword fight. But ever since Sirius had suggested the idea to him, Harry had been excited by it. It just sounded so cool to be able to fence. He was also hoping that Ron and Ginny would be able to join him in these lessons. Of course, this (and the hoped for visit from Ron over Christmas) required the permission of Dumbledore. So it was that Harry was found making his way to the Headmaster’s office a week before break.

“Lemon drops,” he told the statue. Harry never did understand what the Headmaster’s obsession with Muggle sweets was. But at least this sweet was particularly appropriate; Uncle Albus was always offering him some.

“Hello, Harry. What can I help you with today? I didn’t think we were going to meet again until after the start of the year.”

“No, that’s right. I wanted to ask you about something else.”

“Certainly.”

“Can you tell Ron and Ginny about our house? I want to have Ron over for Christmas so he doesn’t have to stay here alone.” Albus watched him carefully.

“That seems like an excellent idea. But what about young Ginevra?” Harry shifted slightly at the question, causing Albus to raise his eyebrows in curiosity as he watched.

“Uncle Sirius promised me fencing lessons this summer. I want Ron and Ginny to join me.”

“Indeed.” His eyes were twinkling more than usual. “You seem to be unusually good friends with young Ginevra.” Albus was definitely watching him very carefully.

“Ginny… she’s special. And she was my first real friend. I don’t want to leave her out more than I have to.”

“Yes, I had noticed that you seem to spend a great deal of time writing these days.”

“Ginny and I found a… ah, quicker means of communicating than regular owl post.”

“It is good to stay close with your friends. Have you told her about the prophecy?”

“No, sir. Sirius told me not to tell anyone. But she knows that Uncle Sirius is training me to fight for when Voldemort comes back. I think she might have guessed why that is.”

“There may come a time soon, Harry, when you will feel the need to share everything with your friend. Do not be afraid to tell her the truth.” Harry watched Albus in shock, he had been told that he was never allowed to tell anyone about the prophecy, or even reveal that there was a prophecy. And now he was being told that it would be okay for him to tell Ginny, of all people.

“Thank you, sir.” Harry would worry about precisely why he was being told this at another time. Albus very rarely revealed the reason behind his decisions. In fact, Harry was sure that he would not have learned the prophecy for several more years if the decision had been left up to the cagey Headmaster.

As Harry made his way out of the office, Albus wondered exactly what type of relationship the young boy had with the youngest Weasley. He knew that Ginevra was unusually talented. She had learned to control her magic at an extraordinarily young age–though this might have come from the need to protect herself from six larger and older brothers, most of whom had a particular penchant for pranking. But her connection to Harry was the most interesting thing about her. Albus had been wary of telling Harry the full contents of the prophecy, though he could not overrule Sirius’ choice to do so. Surprisingly, Harry had taken the news very well. Sirius had confided in Albus that he thought it was Harry’s new friend who had kept him grounded. Harry certainly did seem to want to spend an unusual amount of time with her, though that might just have been his excitement over finally having his own friend. It might be that young Ginevra would play a larger role in the upcoming war than Albus had anticipated. He would have to watch them carefully in the future.

Ginny Weasley did not want to be in Romania. She was very excited to be seeing Charlie again, but she wished that Ron and Harry could have come with them. She hardly thought it was fair that Ron got to see Harry’s house before she did. Dumbledore had visited last week to tell her Mom and Dad that Ron would be staying at Sirius’ house, and that Harry had asked him to tell both Ron and Ginny where it was. He had taken Ginny into the kitchen and, after placing several silencing and privacy charms, told her where the house was located. It was amazing, but once he had told her she could remember actually seeing it before. It wasn’t that far from her house and she had once flown Bill’s old broom over that section of the forest. But learning where he lived made her all the more anxious to be able to actually see Harry again. It was very nice to get to talk to him through the parchment, and she was very glad he had chosen to do so with her of all people, but it wasn’t the same as actually getting to see him.

Ginny would never admit it to anyone, but she missed getting to see his brilliant emerald eyes, and the way they would light up at any hint of mischief.

Hoping to distract herself, Ginny talked Charlie in to taking her to see some of the dragons that afternoon. Her mom, no doubt scared of Ginny getting hurt, had forbidden her to go near some of the more vicious dragons, but Charlie thought his little sister was made of sterner stuff than that.

“Remember, half pint,” he said as he led her by the hand, “we only saw a Welsh Green today, nothing remotely dangerous at all.”

“Of course,” Ginny answered as a dragon that was definitely not a Welsh Green came in to view. “Is that the Fireball?”

“Sure is. And her eggs are about to hatch, so she’s in a right mood.”

The dragon before them was a beautiful scarlet with gold spikes. Ginny could just barely make out the crimson and gold eggs that the dragon was crouched over. Ginny and Charlie stood watching her from a safe distance–she was shooting fire at any wizard who came close.

“She is beautiful.”

“She’s the one who always reminds me of you. Brilliant red and with a temper to match.” Ginny hit Charlie across the arm.

“I do not have a temper.”

“Sure you don’t, half pint. Ready to see the Horntail?”

“Yes!”

The dragon that Charlie led her to this time was lizard-like and black with fierce-looking bronze spikes on its long tail.

“The Horntail is the most dangerous dragon we have here. That one there can shoot fire over forty feet. And the tail is just as dangerous. See those spikes?” Ginny nodded mutely, holding tightly to his hand. “Come on, I’ll show you a Vipertooth before we have to go back.”

“Those are the fastest, right Charlie.”

“Yep. Small and fast. Just like you.” Charlie pointed out a copper colored dragon with black spikes. “And they are venomous. And have a particular taste for humans.” Ginny rolled her eyes at her brother. He was just trying to scare her.

“I think you’re just exaggerating.”

Charlie just chuckled at her. Ginny let go of his hand and crept closer to the dragon enclosure. The Vipertooth was a beautiful dragon. Ginny was lost in a fantasy about flying on one, able to go faster than any broom. And she didn’t notice the dragon turn a malevolent yellow eye on her brother. Charlie, however, did. Not wanting to frighten Ginny he sent a silent stunner at the dragon, hoping that with its smaller size he would be able to stun it with one spell instead of the usual five it required. The spell served only to enrage the dragon. Since Charlie seemed to be the one yielding a wand, the dragon turned on the small girl that was closer to him and prepared to roast her alive. She looked quite tasty.

The Vipertooth swallowed his flames with a strangled gulp, sending up a cloud of smoke.

Charlie, who had never seen such a thing before, was startled. The dragon had taken one real look at Ginny and immediately stopped his attack. Dragons showed no respect for humans, but something about Ginny had stopped him in his tracks. Charlie put the incident away to ponder later. He needed to get Ginny back before Mum learned they were gone. There would be hell to pay if she learned he had taken Ginny to see the worst dragons here.

It was a windy day late in January that Harry began to notice the first unusual thing. Uncle Albus had been teaching him Occlumency all year, and he had gotten pretty good by now. He was convinced that it was only years of living around two of the worst pranksters (Uncle Remus would never admit it, but he liked pranking just as much as Sirius) that had taught him to hide his thoughts so well. Harry didn’t think he would have noticed anything if it weren’t for his unusual training.

He could feel someone trying to access his mind.

The attempts were fairly small, and didn’t happen very often, but it worried him. No student would know Legilimency. Which only left the professors. Harry was fairly sure that Snape had tried before (Sirius had warned him about this), but that didn’t explain the attempts he would feel at times when Snape wasn’t even there. It worried Harry, and caused him to spend a lot more effort on mastering the difficult branch of magic. He even asked Ginny for tips. He figured anyone who had been able to successfully prank the twins must have some tricks up her sleeve for how to hide the truth. It took a lot of concentration to lie with such a straight face. Ginny’s idea had been for Harry to try the same method she had learned on. Prank Fred and George and lie to them to their face, or face the consequences.

This provided ample entertainment for the two friends as Harry spent most of February planning increasingly elaborate pranks on the two third year boys. Luckily, the only person who ever caught him sneaking out was Professor Quirrell. But the stuttering man simply looked at him strangely and told him to be more careful in the future. Quirrell rarely gave detentions.

But all things have a first time. In early March Professor Quirrell had told Harry and Ron off for not paying attention in Defense and he had given Harry a detention. Fred and George were thrilled. Apparently, Harry was the only one who goofed off enough to get a detention from Quirrell all year. Personally, Harry thought he must have just ticked off the professor. He had been fairly quiet that day in class. Having successfully played a prank on Malfoy two days ago, he and Ron were taking a break before their next one and had nothing to plan. But then again, Harry had always gotten a weird feeling from Quirrell. He wasn’t looking forward to spending an entire night alone with him. It always made him slightly sick to his stomach to be near the stuttering professor. So it was with a palpable sense of dread that Harry made his way to Quirrell’s office after dinner.

“Come in,” was the soft response to Harry’s knock. Harry was quite shocked that the professor was able to speak at all without stuttering.

Once Harry had entered the room, which was adorned rather sparsely, he heard the door click shut behind him. He didn’t recall shutting it. Quirrell was looking at him rather intensely, and Harry had the distinct impression that he was somehow being tested.

“You are very interesting to me, Mr. Potter. I am, I suppose you could say, professionally curious about your defeat of the Dark Lord. And as only a baby, too.”

“Doesn’t say much for Voldemort, does it? That a baby could defeat him?” Quirrell flinched at the name, as did most of the wizarding world.

“Do not speak his name!”

“Why not? It’s not like he earned my respect or anything.”

“Power should always be respected.”

“Voldemort only had power because people were too afraid of him. I see no reason for that to continue with him gone, for now.”

Quirrell looked at him curiously at the last remark, and Harry quickly realized that he had slipped. It wasn’t common knowledge that Voldemort would be coming back.

“You know more than you appear to, Mr. Potter.”

Harry was getting uncomfortable. This didn’t feel much like a detention. Instead it felt like an interrogation. And although Quirrell was being careful to be polite, it seemed like it was only until he finished his judgment of Harry. Quirrell’s eyes were boring in to his, and it felt like he was trying to break through the walls around Harry’s mind. Harry was intensely grateful for the lessons from Uncle Albus. Maybe it would be best if he avoided looking at the professor all together. He thought he might have found the source of those attacks on his mind that he had noticed.

“Look at me, Harry.”

“No.” Legilimency was easier with eye contact.

“I said look at me!”

When Harry still refused to bring up his eyes, Quirrell reached a hand out to try and forcibly lift his eyes. But the second that Quirrell touched his chin he let out a scream of pain, and Harry felt a spasm of pain across the scar on his forehead. Harry stepped back from him quickly, looking in horror at the man’s badly burned hand.

“Potter! What have you done?”

Harry didn’t bother answering. He sprinted to the door and wrenched it open. He heard Quirrell screaming behind him, but he made it around the corner, frantically pulling the cloak out of his pocket. He disappeared beneath it, only one thought in his mind–get to Albus.