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SIYE Time:10:38 on 28th March 2024
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New Year, New Hope
By Arnel

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Category: Post-OotP, Buried Gems
Characters:Harry/Ginny
Genres: Angst, Drama, Fluff, General
Warnings: None
Story is Complete
Rating: PG-13
Reviews: 117
Summary: It's Harry's sixth year and Ginny Weasley's "Harry-Watching" has paid off. In this sequel to "You're Still You" the two teens explore their new relationship while dealing with the challenges of life threatened by war.
Hitcount: Story Total: 89217; Chapter Total: 5660







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New Year, New Hope

Part Seven

Author’s Notes: As of the publication of HBP, this story has officially become Pre-HBP, almost AU. However, as the author, I reserve the right to add in bits of current canon as I see fit. I will continue to publish the story as I originally conceived it and hope you, my readers, will continue to follow the story and add your reviews. I appreciate the moments you take to add your words of encouragement or criticism because I do take into consideration what each of you writes to me.

And now for your reading pleasure…


*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*

Ginny’s angel pendent was vibrating violently again.

Harry’s in trouble!

Ginny glanced up at Professor Binns and decided that sneaking out of class without permission wouldn’t get her a detention. The elderly ghost never raised his eyes from his notes and even if he did notice her, he wouldn’t know who she was to begin with.

Her decision made, Ginny quietly packed up her things and, avoiding the curious stares from those few classmates who were still awake, slipped out into the corridor. She glanced at her watch as the door shut with a soft click. There were nearly thirty minutes left in the current lesson; if she met someone she would instantly be suspected of skiving off. Right now she really didn’t care.

Without regard to the amount of noise she was making, Ginny tore up the first flight of stairs leading to the seventh floor. At the portrait of the Fat Lady, she made a quick detour into Gryffindor Tower, and then resumed her search for Harry.

Several minutes later, she skidded breathlessly to a halt in front of the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy and began pacing along the blank wall across from it.

I need to find Harry. I know he’s here and doesn’t want to be found. He needs me. I want to help him deal with whatever’s happened. Other jumbled, Harry-centred thoughts flew through her head as she marched past the blank wall. I know he’s here… please let him want me to find him here!

The door materialised. Ginny sighed in relief and gently opened it to reveal the smallest space she had ever seen. There, in front of her, sitting on a moth-eaten mattress covered in ragged linens under the steeply sloping ceiling of what could only be a stairwell, was Harry. The mattress itself was elevated above the floor on a board that balanced precariously on wooden crates. There was no room to stand. At the head and foot of the mattress were several shelves covered with an assortment of dusty boxes. Spiders of several species scuttled away from the sudden light. Ginny shuddered involuntarily as she took in the scene before her.

“Oh, Harry!” she breathed.

Harry looked up. “Welcome to my cupboard, Ginny,” he said miserably.

“May I… may I sit down?”

Harry glanced around the cramped space and scooted toward the foot of the mattress.

“I’m scared, Ginny…”

Harry’s quiet words hit her with the power of a Bludger travelling at full speed. It was the first time Ginny had ever seen Harry look scared or heard him admit anything like this before and it shook her to the very core of her being.

Gingerly, she squeezed onto the mattress next to Harry, letting the door shut behind her. The darkness was almost complete; no air moved, a tiny amount of light leaked in through the vent in the door, claustrophobia reigned. Ginny pushed her discomfort and horror to the back of her mind. Harry needed her; she pulled him into a gentle embrace and waited for him to react. He sagged against her, trembling almost uncontrollably. A moment later, he snaked his arms around her, returning the hug. In the cramped space, all she could do was murmur soothing words and rock back and forth a little and wait for his tremors to stop.

“Harry… why are you scared?”

A noise from outside drowned out Harry’s response. Angrily, Ginny wished she had thought to cast a silencing charm on the door; she was sure Peeves had found them. Muttering a spell Fred and George had taught her over the summer, Ginny hexed the poltergeist through the vent in the door.

“That’s not nice,” he screeched. There was the sound of something overturning. If she hadn’t been so concerned about Harry she would have found Peeves’ discomfort funny. She lit her wand without asking for Harry’s permission.

Harry had pulled away at the intrusion and drawn his knees close to his chest. He rested his forehead on his knees, lacing his fingers through his hair, refusing to look at her.

Ginny sat quietly beside him. Harry looked utterly miserable and again, Ginny’s heart swelled with emotion. She had hoped that Harry’s emotional state had taken a turn for the better with all the support he had recently discovered, but with people like Professor Snape sabotaging his self esteem, there was no telling whether Harry had hit rock-bottom again and would have to try to claw his way back out of depression. She hoped that this was just a small bump in the road and that Harry would be feeling better in a day or two. Taking hold of Harry’s closest hand and entwining her fingers with his, she asked, “What are you scared of, love?”

“Myself,” he stated simply.

“You?” she asked softly, hoping she was masking her surprise well.

“Me. My magic. My thoughts. My attitude,” he admitted slowly. “I can’t control any of it. I get angry and it feels as if I’m going to explode if I don’t let it out.”

“Is that what happened this morning?”

“Yeah.”

“What happened?”

“Snape was goading me as usual… saying stupid stuff... and I finally just lost my temper.”

“What was he saying?”

“The usual rubbish about how weak my potion-making skills are and how he was manipulated into taking me as one of his N.E.W.T. students.”

Ginny thought carefully before she next spoke. She was convinced that there was more to Professor Snape’s goading of Harry. “He does that to you in class, right? So it’s not just an isolated incident.”

“All the time. Has since the first day I entered his classroom.”

“I know. Hermione told me, so there’s got to be more to it than Snape breathing down your neck.”

Harry shuddered and closed his eyes. “Blimey, Ginny. For some reason it felt as if he was deliberately trying to provoke me today, maybe to see how far he could push before I made a fool of myself!”

Harry squirmed a little and Ginny instantly knew that what she was going to hear was extremely unpleasant. Instead, she suddenly felt a slight surge of magic travel up her arm from their clasped hands. It was very much like a reverse of the feeling she’d had the night she had linked the two pendants. A moment later she was forced to close her eyes as images tumbled into her mind.

She was standing at her usual desk three-quarters of the way down the centre aisle of the Potions classroom listening to her cauldron bubble while she cut up the last of her ingredients. Behind her, the click of Professor Snape’s heels receded down the aisle toward a hiccupping noise issuing from someone else’s potion. She heaved a sigh of relief.

“Bloody Snape! How can I grind those beetles any smaller?” she grumbled to herself as she poked at the contents of her mortar with her pestle. The other cauldron gave a mighty belch and splashed Sticking Solution all over the floor. The heel clicks stopped and she heard the professor issuing wand-movement instructions on how to clean up the mess with “Evanesco” before it dried and stuck to the floor.

She turned to sneak a peek behind her to see which Slytherin was receiving special treatment. “Draco…figures…”

Beside her, Neville murmured, “Not fair. Not fair at all!”

“Silence, Longbottom!” the Potions Master scolded, coming up behind them. He leaned in and spoke into her ear as he poked the tip of a quill into her piles of prepared ingredients. “Potter–cut those pieces of erumpent hide smaller. They will never soften if you leave them that big!”

She ignored Professor Snape’s criticism and glanced at the board. She had to finish this potion on time and with reasonable success; her mark in Potions depended upon it. Instruction ten called for seven drops of distilled bat guano. She rummaged through her potions kit and extracted the right bottle. The voice in her ear suddenly hissed, “Don’t add that now… do you want to set the school on fire? I swear–you get more incompetent by the day, Potter! One of these days Longbottom’s going to be smarter than you!”

She closed her eyes and thought, Control. I must keep calm. Don’t let him get you angry…

Professor Snape wandered off again. She read the instructions again thoroughly, all of them, for the fourth time in ten minutes and gently dripped the distilled guano down the bowl of her ladle as instructed. She stirred gently and watched the colour of her potion change; she needed electric blue, but had to be satisfied with a violet-blue instead. What had she done wrong? Dean turned around at this moment and shook his head. “Don’t let him get to you, mate. Your potion’s colour is no worse than mine or Neville’s.” She glanced up to peek at the others’ mixtures and shook her head. Both mixtures were an azure blue that was close to the specified colour; no matter that her friends were now frantically poking their wands under their cauldrons to reduce the flames, their solutions were almost boiling and giving off copious amounts of silver-grey steam. She sighed in relief: if Neville and Dean exploded their cauldrons because they let their potions boil over she wouldn’t be given an automatic zero for today’s Sticking Solution.


Ginny was appalled. It was one thing to hear it from Hermione, but when it came straight from Harry’s mouth, from his mind… “Harry, are you sending these images to me deliberately?” she asked.

When he nodded, she said, “But that’s entirely unfair. I mean, he’s always been really hard on anyone who wasn’t a Slytherin, but to blatantly belittle you from the start is… is…”

“…what Professor Snape gets away with,” Harry grumbled. “And I’m not finished yet… it just gets worse from here.”

The scene changed a little. Thanks to Hermione’s hissed instructions, her Sticking Solution was now the proper colour and she was straightening up her work area while her mixture simmered. Without warning, the voice in her ear was back. “You’re just like your father, Potter. He never paid attention to his mixtures; he always needed Black to bail him out just like you need Granger. Those two were forever disrupting the lessons with disappearing ladles and switched ingredients that created mayhem when they smoked or exploded. They were never serious about their work… never! And neither are you. Fifty points from Gryffindor for not doing your own work in my class today! I should have overridden Minerva McGonagall’s pleading and kept your miserable hide out of my classroom this year. You don’t deserve to be in this level of my class.”

“Leave me alone, sir,” she requested through clenched teeth. “And leave my father out of your classroom.”

“Now, now. Temper, temper, temper,” the voice crooned silkily. “Be careful or I’ll just have to give you a zero. Your father would have been quite proud of that mark, you know…” He resumed walking toward the Slytherin students as she stood there seething.

She had felt her anger build with each remark. She closed her eyes again and clenched her fists to try to stuff the anger back into its cubby hole in her mind. Her efforts to calm herself weren’t working; she could feel a new sensation force its way into her consciousness and recognized it as revenge. A revenge that was powerful and satisfying at the same time; retribution of sorts for all that had been heaped on her self-control over the last five months. She sighed and tried to clear her mind of this new feeling as well, failing miserably. The pressure was building and she couldn’t stop it. All the hurt feelings and angry thoughts she had ever had toward a certain teacher suddenly surfaced and focused into one single thought, “I wish you would just shut it and leave me alone!”

A low rumbling now began issuing from every station in the room. The students around her looked at each other in alarm. The rumbling grew more intense as every cauldron of Sticking Solution began to bounce around, the contents sloshing and swirling as one. The pressure inside her mind continued to boil and swirl, struggling to be released. Her magic was out of control as every single cauldron belched up its contents. The streams of potion arched into the air, meeting above the very point below which Professor Snape was standing. The column and several cauldrons hit the ceiling, blasting a hole through the solid stone; their contents coalesced on their way back down.

She heard someone yell, “Professor, watch OUT! RUN!” but didn’t know if he had time to move.

Someone grabbed her arm and pulled her violently out of the way as someone else yelled, “TAKE COVER OR YOU’LL BE STUCK!”

The mass hit Professor Snape squarely on the head and rolled down his greasy hair to stick to his face and robes before splashing in the direction of the Slytherin contingent of the class.

The classroom emptied almost instantly of hysterical students leaving a trail of sticky footprints leading up to the Great Hall and beyond. She and the other Gryffindors had left the scene with the others: they now stood in an alcove near the marble staircase shedding their ruined robes and lining their shoes sole-up for Hermione to cast “Scourgify” on them.

She sank down onto the stone floor and put her head on her knees, muttering, “What have I done? What have I done?”

The scene faded…


… And Ginny found herself trembling as a mix of her own emotions warred inside her head, the most powerful of which seemed to be indignation and a new loathing for a particular teacher.

Harry now spoke, the calmness of his voice betraying his real emotions. “I’m sorry, Ginny. I should have been more in control. I failed and now I’ve got to face the consequences. If Snape dies because of what I did I’ll be thrown into Azkaban, I know it…”

“Oh, Harry, it wasn’t your fault! You’ve put up with Snape’s treatment for far too long! Some of the blame has to be placed on him.”

“And it should,” Harry agreed, “but that still doesn’t excuse what I did.”

“Can’t you or Ron or Hermione report what he’s doing to Dumbledore or McGonagall?”

Harry scowled. “Like they’d really do anything about it,” he scoffed.

Ginny closed her eyes. “Does this have anything to do with why you never went back to Occlumency last year?” she asked as Harry muttered something about throttling Ron. “No, Harry, Ron had nothing to do with it. You don’t need to hurt him.”

“Then who…”

“Harry, I heard Professor Dumbledore telling Mum and Dad last summer that you’d had a falling-out with Professor Snape during one of your lessons.”

“Great. Why am I supposed to keep quiet about what I’m supposedly learning when Dumbledore tells everyone that I can’t be civil to the one teaching me?”

“He wouldn’t disclose the details, if that’s what you’re concerned about; but suffice it to say that all three of them were very concerned for your mental well-being,” she told him soothingly.

“Yeah, right,” Harry grumbled. “And I’m a Crumple-Horned Snorkack.”

“Harry,” Ginny pleaded, “Please believe me–it’s not something I’d joke about lightly. My parents knew it was dangerous for you not to close your mind, but last September when you rejected further Occlumency lessons with Professor Dumbledore, they just assumed you knew what you were doing.”

“Well, they’re wrong. I don’t know what I’m doing,” Harry responded miserably. “I’m terrified that Voldemort is going to try to force his way into my thoughts again like he did last year. If he does there’s no telling who’s going to suffer, because I can’t control my emotions or my magic!”

Ginny sighed. “What has Mrs Chang been telling us the last three sessions? That learning to control our bodies will help us become more focused and able to control our minds, Harry.”

“I know. But can I help it if I still feel I have to question something I don’t yet believe in?”

“I suppose not. But haven’t you felt something changing from what it was like on Tuesday to find yourself sitting on the floor with your thighs burning from standing in that squatting posture?”

“No,” said Harry sullenly.

Ginny sighed. This was getting her nowhere fast. She changed tactics.

“How long has this been going on?”

“How long has what been going on?”

“The uncontrollable magic.”

“All year,” he sighed. “But it’s only been since that incident with the thestrals and Malfoy that the weird stuff has been happening.”

“What sort of stuff?”

Harry sighed again and began ticking things off on his fingers. “At first it was just little things. I’d walk away from my bed in the morning and come back from the loo to find it making itself and Ron, Dean, Neville and Seamus staring at it. My robes folded themselves last night just because I felt momentarily guilty about throwing them on the floor.” Ginny giggled softly at this. “Doors have been opening themselves for weeks. The other night I Summoned a book from a library shelf just by thinking about it.”

“I bet Madam Pince was none too pleased about that,” Ginny commented, grinning.

Harry tried a wry smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “She chased me out of the library like she did last year when you brought me that Easter egg.”

Ginny chuckled. "Harry," she said, turning serious again. "All these things you've described sound like part of the normal process of developing magic. We've all done a certain amount of wandless magic, haven't we?"

Harry looked confused. "But isn't the ability to control wandless magic something we're supposed to master as we grow older? I don't like it, Ginny. I should know better. It's my anger that gets the best of me and takes over, and it was that anger that made all those cauldrons disappear. I should be able to control that by now."

Ginny thought it over. "You're right, Harry. Most of us do learn to control that type of temper-induced magic, but... wouldn't it follow that the more talented and powerful a witch or wizard is, the more likely he or she would be to spontaneously use wandless magic when it was necessary?"

It was Harry's turn to frown thoughtfully. "Maybe... but why me? Why does it always happen to me?"

Ginny took a deep breath and plunged ahead with a thought she’d been toying with ever since they’d been back at school. “Harry, you’re a very powerful wizard.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Then believe the Prophesy,” Ginny snapped a little more forcefully than she intended.

Harry recoiled and hit his head on the sloping ceiling. If he had looked miserable when she had first come to him, he now looked petrified. There was no room to move, otherwise, Ginny was certain he would have bolted.

“Harry, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it like that!” she exclaimed, horrified, her hands flying to her mouth.

“Yes, you did,” he said coldly.

She reached for his hand again. “All right, maybe I did,” she conceded. “I apologise.”

When he refused to answer, she tried again. “Doesn’t the Prophesy indicate that your magic will have grown significantly by the time you face Voldemort?”

Harry tugged his hand away. “I don’t want to talk about this. You’re not helping me by reminding me what I’m trying to forget right now; the thing that ties my stomach in knots every time I think about it.”

Ginny closed her eyes. Dammit, Weasley! Mum warned you to be careful! He’s recovering, for Merlin’s sake! She’d really muffed it and now she would have to pick up the pieces and start over again. “Fine,” she said cautiously. “You asked me why I thought you were powerful. I gave you an honest answer. I’m sorry you don’t like it, but unfortunately, it’s the truth.” She stopped and waited to see if Harry would respond. He said nothing, so she plunged ahead. “Look, you’ve been able to do spells the rest of us haven’t even dreamed of doing since you were thirteen.”

“Name one.” Harry growled.

“The Patronus Charm, for one. . Bloody hell, Harry, you were teaching it to the DA just last year!"

“And…”

“All those spells you learned for the Triwizard Tournament.”

“But anyone can learn those…”

“Not at the age you did. Some of those were beyond N.E.W.T. level, I think. I heard Ron and Hermione talking about them one night.”

“No, they weren’t.” Harry still looked unconvinced and terribly wary. “And Hermione should have kept quiet,” he growled.

Ginny ignored his comment. “Listen, Harry. If it really bothers you, talk to an adult.”

“If you’re suggesting Dumbledore, I refuse to darken his door voluntarily unless I have a lesson with him or he summons me,” Harry said hotly.

Ginny harrumphed. “All right,” she countered evenly. “If you won’t talk to Dumbledore, then you can at least talk with Professor Snape. He’d be quite the captive audience right now, you know.”

“SNAPE?” Harry roared. “Are you daft, girl? I’d never hear the end of it!”

Much to Harry’s consternation Ginny burst out laughing. “Of course not,” she said once she regained her composure. “Seriously, Harry, what about Professor McGonagall or Madam Pomfrey? You have a good rapport with both of them.”

Harry, who had joined in with Ginny’s laughter somewhat half-heartedly at his own expense, shook his head. “I can’t, Ginny. I trust them, but only so far. For one thing, they’re extremely loyal to Professor Dumbledore, especially Professor McGonagall.” A defeated look crept onto his face. “The first thing she’d do is run to the headmaster’s office to report in!”

“She’d do no such thing!” Ginny exclaimed indignantly.

“Of course she would, and so would Madam Pomfrey.” Harry’s shoulders sagged as he leaned his head back against the wall. “For another, I’m not comfortable talking with them about things like this.” He threw her a guarded look. “You’re the only one who doesn’t put pressure on me all the time. No adult here will just let me be me–they’re always expecting me to measure up; I’d be disappointing someone if I admitted to any one of them that I’m scared of myself…”

Ginny sat thoughtfully next to Harry, the lumpiness of the mattress poking at her body uncomfortably. Finally, she asked, “Isn’t there someone here, an outsider maybe that you can try talking to? Someone like Mrs Chang…” She let her voice trail off almost as an unspoken question.

“Why would I want to bear my feelings to Mrs Chang, Ginny?”

“Harry, we both did it all ready. You know, the brainstorming exercises we did on Tuesday. She discovered a lot about how we think just by what we said.”

Harry slumped further down the wall so that his feet hung over the side of the mattress and thudded softly against the door. “I guess you’re right. Maybe I could talk to her. Do you think she’d want to come all the way up here just to counsel me?”

Ginny ran a hand through Harry’s hair several times before answering. “She’s all ready Apparating to Hogsmeade every morning to teach us Tai Chi. If she’s willing to stay a little longer, I say it’s worth a try, Harry. All we can do is ask,” she said, making up her mine to take action on this. “Will you–will you be all right if I go up to the owlery to send her a quick message?”

“I’ll manage, Ginny. I can’t get any worse,” he said gloomily.

Ginny enveloped Harry in a quick hug and whispered something into his ear before sliding toward the door and opening it a crack. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, Harry,” she promised. With those words, she pushed open the door and made her way, blinking rapidly as her eyes adjusted to the light, toward the owlery to find Hedwig.

However, she didn’t get very far. She rounded a corner and was suddenly face to face with the witch she was seeking.

“Hello, Miss Weasley,” Mrs Chang called. “What are you up to? Aren’t you supposed to be in a lesson?”

Ginny glanced at her watch and nodded guiltily. “Muggle Studies,” she replied. “I’m skiving off because I needed to send you an owl.”

“Me? What about?”

“Harry. He needs to talk to an adult who hasn’t got some sort of an agenda for him to follow and we finally agreed to ask you.”

“What’s happened, Miss Weasley? I heard about the Potions classroom. Why does Harry need me?”

Quickly, Ginny explained the morning’s events and her talk with Harry. She ended her story by saying boldly, “Harry trusts you, Mrs Chang. We both do. And now you’re my only hope to get Harry talking to someone who knows more than me.”

Mrs Chang looked at Ginny appraisingly. “Why are you willing to trust me so completely, Miss Weasley?”

“Because I think you work with Neville’s parents and because of our talk on Tuesday after the first lesson,” Ginny replied. “You were honest with us; you didn’t seem to be holding anything back.”

“You’re a good judge of character, Miss Weasley. I was trying to be honest with you.”

Ginny smiled at this. Then she said, “I also heard the spell you used to seal the parchment.”

“It’s a very common spell, Miss Weasley.”

“Not when it’s used with charmed parchment it isn’t.”

Startled, Mrs Chang stared at Ginny. “What do you know about that sort of thing?”

“With six brothers, two of whom who have their own joke shop, I’ve seen enough charmed paper to know to look for certain things. Your parchment didn’t feel right. Besides, you were too willing to let both Harry and me handle your findings when we’d finished. That was the biggest clue Mrs Chang. I suspected at the time that the charm had something to do with fingerprints.”

“You’re right on all accounts. The charm uses the oils found on your skin to create a magical imprint on the parchment. Only when someone whose fingerprints match those the parchment is charmed to recognize handles it does the scroll allow itself to be unsealed.”

“I thought so and told Harry about what I suspected yesterday. I think that’s why he agreed to my asking you to talk with him.” Ginny looked up hopefully at Mrs Chang. “Do you have the time to talk with him right now?”

Mrs Chang hesitated as if mentally paging through her appointment book. Finally, she said, “Yes, if we make it quick. Where is Harry?”

“The Room of Requirement, Mrs Chang. Come with me,” Ginny said, turning to lead the way. When they arrived at the proper place Ginny cautioned, “Don’t be surprised when you open the door. The Room has conformed to Harry’s needs and shaped itself like the cupboard he lived in for the first ten years of his life.”

“Do you want to come in with us?” Mrs Chang asked.

“I’d like to, but there isn’t space enough for three. I’ll wait out here,” Ginny said as she began her pacing. The door appeared and Ginny turned to Mrs Chang one last time. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Mrs. Chang nodded and requested permission from Harry to enter. The last Ginny saw of either of them before the door closed was Harry’s guarded look of gratitude.

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*

It was a very different Harry who emerged from the Room of Requirement almost an hour later. He paused outside the door and scanned the corridor, finally finding Ginny sitting against the wall near the boys’ loo doing some homework. As he approached her, Ginny studied the set of his shoulders and found that he looked far more relaxed than when she had found him.

She looked enquiringly between Harry and Mrs Chang, who smiled at the two teens and said pleasantly, “I’ll see you two on Monday. Harry, please owl me with your morning timetable. That way we can set a regular time to talk.” She turned to Ginny. “Harry agrees with me that you did right by him when you asked me to help. He’s a very lucky young wizard to have a witch like you looking after him. I must be going now–until Monday, then.” She smiled again at Ginny and Harry and turned to walk briskly towards the Entrance Hall.

Once she was out of earshot, Harry turned to Ginny and, extending his hand, pulled her into a nearby alcove. They sat on the plinth of the shielding suit of armour and Harry gave a great sigh as he drew Ginny to him.

“Are you all right, Harry?” Ginny asked peering into his face.

“I’m feeling better, if that’s what you’re asking,” he told her, “although I’m still in heaps of trouble.”

“I reckon I am. Do you mind my asking what you two did in there?”

“Not really. She coaxed, I resisted. She told me a story, I listened. She was patient, I finally talked.” He ran a hand over his hair as if to try to make it lay down and only succeeded in rearranging the messiness of it. “The more I talked, the easier it got. She wants to set up a regular day for us to talk and I agreed to try what she says is best. She even promised not to tell Professor Dumbledore about our sessions unless I consented.”

Ginny smiled up at him. “Did she answer the questions I couldn’t?” she asked him, drawing him into a hug.

“A few. I’ve got a lot to sort out and it’s going to take time.” When Ginny furrowed her brow he continued, “She did help me find a little of the hope I thought I’d lost earlier. You know, after Potions.”

“Are you… are you still frightened of yourself, of your magic?” Ginny asked, hoping not to cause Harry to retreat into himself.

Harry tensed in her embrace. “I’ve got a lot of thinking to do before I can answer that, Ginny. Right now I’m still scared; there are a lot of questions that I have to find answers to within myself.”

Ginny reached up and covered the bulge under Harry’s robes where she knew his phoenix hung. “Take all the time you need, Harry. You know I’m patient and I’ll always be there if you need me,” she said as he cocked a questioning eyebrow at her. She hesitated, hating what she was about to say, but knowing it was true. “I was frightened for you this morning, Harry. I feared I had lost you to the demons in your mind; that you’d fallen into a place where no one could reach.”

Harry hugged her close, resting his chin on the top of her head. “If you think I hit rock bottom, I suppose I did. I scared me, too. I’m sorry to have frightened you.”

“I accept… and I truly hope you can find the answers you’re looking for, Harry,” Ginny told him, fighting back the tears of relief that threatened to spill over.

Harry noticed and gently caressed her face with the rough pad of his thumb. “I will… with Mrs Chang’s help,” he told her with a sigh. He looked at his watch and smiled mischievously. “I’ll start right after lunch. I think we can make it before the platters disappear from the tables.”

Ginny swatted his arm playfully. “Oh, you!” she exclaimed. “You and Ron are incorrigible when it comes to your stomachs!”

“C’mon, then, Ginny. Let’s eat!” Harry genuinely laughed as they began racing down the corridor toward the stairs.

Ginny slowed a little to watch him take the steps three at a time and suddenly knew that, at least for now, Harry would be all right.

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*

Profess or McGonagall approached Harry and Ginny as they sat down for lunch at the nearly empty Gryffindor table. Ginny was finding it hard to look her head of house in the eye. Might it be because I feel really guilty for skiving off most of my lessons this morning to help Harry? she asked herself. She shouldn’t have worried; the subject was completely different from the one she thought she’d have to endure.

“Lessons begin next Friday afternoon. Professor Dumbledore has been called away and won’t be back until late tomorrow night,” the professor told them cryptically. She turned to Harry. “I’ll see you in my office as usual this afternoon, then.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said dully as the professor turned toward the teachers’ table, her walking stick tapping lightly on the stone floor.

“Aren’t you finished with all your back work yet?” Hermione inquired from her place next to Ron. She turned a page in the book she’d propped against a juice jug as Ron elbowed her in the ribs.

Harry sawed furiously at his lamb chop. “No, I’m not. So just leave me alone about it, will you?”

Hermione opened her mouth to say more, but Ginny caught her eye and shook her head at her friend. The other girl backed off and the four of them finished their meal in silence.

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*

Harry burst through the portrait hole, a huge grin on his face. He strode over to the table where Ginny sat with Colin Creevey and several others from her year and plopped himself down on an extra chair facing Ginny.

“I’ve done it,” he announced happily. “I’m finished with all my back assignments.”

As Ginny and the others congratulated him, Ron and Hermione climbed through the hole and headed for their table.

“How come you’re so happy?” Ron asked.

“I don’t have to go back to McGonagall’s office for a week,” Harry said, smiling. “I’ve finished all my assignments and all my other homework.”

“That’s a first,” Hermione commented dryly. “I mean, that’s great, Harry,” she added quickly as both Ron and Ginny glared furiously at her.

Ron shook his head. “Does this mean you’ll get to rejoin the Quidditch team?”

“Not just yet,” Harry replied ruefully. “But if I keep up with my homework for a month and show improvement in my marks Professor McGonagall might let me go back to practice. In the meantime,” he said looking at Ginny, “Ginny’s still Seeker for the Hufflepuff game in February.”

Everyone turned to look at Ginny. “What?” she asked.

“Hey, we’re counting on you the catch the Snitch,” Colin told her smiling.

“Don’t I always?” she asked, somewhat annoyed. “I may not be as skilful a flier as Harry here, but I get the job done, don’t I?”

“That you do,” he replied. “Hey, I didn’t mean to imply that you’re a bad Seeker, but I think you know how we all feel about having someone other than Harry as Seeker.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, never mind. Forget I said anything.” Colin began packing up his books and parchment. “’Night, all. I’m turning in.”

“What’s with him?” Ron asked as Colin stomped up the boys’ staircase.

“I think he fancies her,” Hermione said looking between Ginny and Harry.

Ginny shook her head. “I think it’s time I had a talk with Colin. He hardly spoke to me in Potions today. It’s a bit hard when your partner only communicates with grunts and gestures.”

“You mean he’s jealous of Harry?” Hermione inquired as Ginny nodded.

“Isn’t it obvious,” Ron commented. “Harry’s got Ginny’s affections and Colin doesn’t. He doesn’t want to be ‘just friends’ anymore, I think.”

“Oh, brother!” was all Harry said shaking his head. He looked around at the others. “I know this seems strange, me being caught up on all my homework, but I’m turning in, too. I’m knackered.” He stood up, reaching for Ginny’s hand. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he said giving it a squeeze.

“Sleep well,” Ginny told him softly, rising to give him a quick hug.

He returned the gesture, grabbed his bag, and strode away from the group. At the entrance to the boys’ staircase he turned. “Good night,” he called, disappearing up the stairs.

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*

“Hey, Ginny,” Harry called to Ginny across the Gryffindor table the next morning. “When’s your next Quidditch practice?”

“This afternoon,” she said casting a nervous glance at the leaden sky covering the enchanted ceiling. “We’ll be lucky if it doesn’t snow.”

“Good. I’ll be there.”

“Didn’t you tell us you couldn’t practice yet?” Hermione queried.

Harry scowled. “Yeah, but McGonagall didn’t say I couldn’t sit in the stands or stand on the sidelines.” He caught Ron’s eye and winked at him. “She also didn’t say my Firebolt had to stay in my trunk either.”

Ron smiled and chuckled deep in his throat. “It’ll be great having you there anyway, mate. We’ve missed you.”

Harry scooped up a forkful of eggs. “Thanks, Ron. It’ll be good to be back.”

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*

The sky was an ominous grey and the air had the feeling of impending snow as Ginny and the other members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team took to the skies late on Friday afternoon. After a few warm-up circuits round the pitch, Katie had the group form a circle in the air and used her wand to direct the Quaffle for her team members to catch and throw back at her. When she seemed satisfied that this particular drill had gone well, she had the team play a weaving game which she explained would help their agility in the air. The gist of it was to fly, weaving in and out, through a line of team-mates.

Ginny distinctly heard one of the reserve Chasers exclaim, “I get it, it’s a slalom course!” and when Katie called for volunteers, the young girl flattened herself on her broom and quickly zipped along the line of players staying precariously close to those she was passing.

Everyone was startled the instant she finished by the enthusiastic clapping of someone seated on the sidelines. “Well done, well done! You show ‘em, Rebecca!” Harry called.

“What’s he doing here?” Jack Sloper called to Ginny as Ron raced past, doing his best to imitate Rebecca’s speed and turning control.

“McGonagall’s let him loose!” Ginny called back, laughing. “He can’t practice with us yet, but she didn’t say anything about not lending us moral support from the sidelines.”

“’Way to go, Potter!” Jimmy Peakes yelled in Harry’s direction.

Harry waved enthusiastically at them and the team continued the exercise until everyone had a turn. After that, Katie broke the squad up into their respective specialty groups with the reserve players taking the part of the Hufflepuff team. The Hufflepuff game was just two weeks away which made honing their skills and trying to anticipate which moves the Hufflepuff players would use all the more important.

The longer they played, the colder it became and two hours into the practice, Ginny could no longer feel her hands on the handle of her broom. Just as she was wishing for a cup of hot chocolate to warm up with, Katie blew her whistle and called everyone to the ground.

“That’s enough for tonight, everyone. Good practice; you’re beginning to think like our opponents and find the appropriate moves to catch them off guard. I really like how the Chasers are pulling together and Ron, I hope those two spectacular saves you made weren’t accidents!”

Ron turned beet red at this and said, “How dare you accuse me of sloppy Keeping!” This made the rest of the team giggle somewhat nervously. They remembered all too well what his Keeping had been like the previous year.

Katie had a few more general remarks and then she dismissed the team, admonishing them to take hot showers and get plenty of rest during the following week; they didn’t need anyone in the hospital wing with pneumonia.

Ginny helped Ron and the Beaters capture and crate the balls, then headed for the showers. As she passed under the stands, a hand shot out from behind one of the support pillars, grabbed her arm and pulled her into a dark corner. Too surprised to scream, Ginny stopped resisting when she discovered her assailant was Harry.

“Wanna go flying?” Harry whispered in her ear. He opened his cloak and wrapped it round her, engulfing her in its warmth.

“I’ve just been flying, you ninny,” she answered coyly.

“Not tandem and not with me,” he responded, grinning playfully at her.

Ginny wrapped her arms around Harry’s middle and burrowed in closer to his chest. “As in I get to ride your Firebolt?”

“Yes.”

“As in I get to choose where I want to sit?”

“Maybe.”

“As in you keep me warm?”

“By all means.”

“As in you have your arm around me or I have mine around you?”

Harry thought a moment. “As in I have my arm around you and you keep your hair out of my face.”

“I can do that,” she said, gently pushing him away and reaching up to fiddle with her hair tie. “Well, what are we waiting for?”

A huge grin spread across Harry’s face. “Go put your broom away. I’ll wait here.”

Ginny reluctantly ducked from the comfort of Harry’s embrace and almost ran toward the broom shed. Not only was she excited about getting to ride his Firebolt; she couldn’t believe how Harry’s mood had changed since he had been released from Professor McGonagall’s stern and watchful scrutiny. He’d had another session with Mrs Chang that morning and that seemed to be helping him, too. She welcomed this lighter, playful side of Harry that none of those close to him had seen in a long time.

“How’s that for record time?” she asked as she rejoined him in his dark corner.

“I didn’t have time to miss you,” he teased. Harry shouldered his broom and steered Ginny out onto the pitch again. There, he waited for her to mount the broom after which he took his place in back of her. His cloak covered her once again and Ginny snuggled in as they rose gently above the grass that was slowly beginning to turn white with snow.

Flying with Harry was pure bliss. Ginny marvelled at how the snowflakes seemed to part as they flew forward, a sight that utterly fascinated her. Best of all, though, were the feelings of unmitigated joy and security caused by being on the same broom with Harry.

Harry circled the pitch several times as if to gauge how his broom handled with two riders. He then guided the broom high above the pitch, nearly into the low-hanging clouds, then put the Firebolt into a steep dive. Ginny screamed as her stomach dropped and she instinctively flattened herself against the broom handle. Moments later, her scream turned to laughter and she let out a spontaneous “Wheeeeeee!” that caused Harry to join in her glee. As he pulled them out of the dive, he let out a whoop of his own and used their momentum to climb skyward again. Ginny felt his elation in their closeness and sensed that at least for the moment, he was completely happy.

All too soon it became too dark to fly safely in the snowstorm and Harry swung the Firebolt back toward the ground. They dismounted and stood together on the snowy pitch, absorbed in the afterglow of their shared experience.

At length, as the cold began to seep back into Ginny’s ears and feet, she sighed regretfully and said, “Ron and Hermione’ll be wondering where we are. I suppose we should be going in before they send out a search party.”

Harry chuckled, “Yeah, I reckon you’re right. Besides, if Ron thinks I’ve kidnapped you, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Nor will I,” Ginny concurred, “especially if I miss my last detention with Professor Snape.”

Harry scowled momentarily. “I wish you’d tell me what that’s all about,” he grumbled unhappily. When she shook her head he reached for her hand and drew her toward him. They stood quietly, Ginny with her head on Harry’s shoulder, saying nothing and watching the snow fall around them. Finally, he brushed a few flakes from her cheek and kissed the top of her head. Somehow, this gesture assured Ginny that Harry had at least accepted the fact that she wasn’t about to tell him why she had been going to detention all week. She knew he didn’t like it, but had decided to keep the peace by not asking her about it again. She, too, sensed the return of his good mood.

“Thanks for sharing the flight with me,” he murmured into her hair.

Ginny raised her head and whispered close to his lips, “My pleasure, Harry.” The kiss that followed was as warm and romantic as the weather was cold. When at last they parted, Harry once again encircled her in his cloak. They walked back to the castle and up the stairs to the tower entrance with their arms around each other, where the Fat Lady had to remind them that they should find a broom cupboard to snog in if they were going to keep her waiting so long. Harry winked at Ginny as he said, “Maybe we’ll do just that!”

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*

Profess or Dumbledore had two announcements at breakfast the next morning.

“May I have your attention, please,” his magically enhanced voice commanded over the sleepy grumbles filling the Great Hall.

Silence descended over the tables as Ginny and her friends looked expectantly at the head table.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Dumbledore began, “it is customary here at Hogwarts to leave notices of upcoming Hogsmeade weekends on your Common Room notice boards. However, today I thought it appropriate to announce the date in conjunction with something else. As some of you already know, Valentine’s Day falls on a Friday this year. The faculty and I have deemed it appropriate to hold a Valentine’s Ball the following Saturday, 15 February. Therefore, the first Hogsmeade weekend of 1997 will be Saturday, eighth February. This will give those of you in fourth year and up the chance to descend upon Gladrags in search of the appropriate attire. Any questions are to be referred to your Head of House.”

There was stunned silence following the announcement. Ginny glanced round the Gryffindor table and found a mixture of reactions within her immediate vicinity. Lavender and Parvati, who had immediately put their heads together, were positively beaming. Hermione had a bemused look on her face. Ron, Neville, and Harry, on the other hand, wore shocked and somewhat incredulous expressions. As the headmaster sat down again, complete pandemonium broke out as the students began to speculate about his sanity. Up and down the table Ginny heard the same questions: Was Professor Dumbledore completely mad in allowing them to go to Hogsmeade despite all the Death Eater threats, and why hold a ball now when almost every student was feeling the seriousness of the war?

Ginny, however, thought she knew why. When she was small, her mother had thought up fun activities for Ginny and her brothers whenever the grown-ups’ fears were beginning to rub off onto her siblings. When she considered it, she knew the headmaster was right in holding such an impromptu ball. Hadn’t Harry told her that he had given his Triwizard winnings to Fred and George because he knew over a year ago the Wizarding World would need something to smile about? Well, the student body of Hogwarts certainly needed something to keep their spirits up now, didn’t they?

She nudged Hermione. “Shall we join the mob at Gladrags together?”

Hermione looked at her in surprise. “Why? I’m not going! No one’s asked me yet!”

Ron cut in. “You are too going!”

Hermione’s head whipped around.

“Will...will you...erm...willyougototheballwithme, Hermione?” Ron pleaded in a rush, looking hopeful.

Ginny burst out laughing as Hermione continued to stare at her brother. “I see you’re not waiting until the last minute this time, are you, Ron!”

Ron shook his head. “Not after what happened in fourth year, I’m not!” He looked back at Hermione. “Well, will you?”

“I’m speechless, Ron,” Hermione murmured. “But, yes. I’d like to go with you.”

“Whoo! I’m glad that’s over with,” Ron sighed in such obvious relief that everyone laughed.

Harry had sidled up to Ginny during her exchange with her brother. “Will you go with me to the dance?” he asked quietly, his chin resting lightly on Ginny’s right shoulder.

She reached up and ran a hand through Harry’s hair. He shivered involuntarily, making her grin. “I was hoping you’d ask,” she told him, prolonging the moment. “I’m looking forward to it very much.” She glanced at her watch. “Have you got time to walk me to class?”

Harry consulted his own watch. “Yeah, since we’re going to the same place,” he grinned. “We’d better get the others. McGonagall and Flitwick have all ready left. I don’t think they’d appreciate us being late for our first lesson.”

Ginny agreed and quickly gathered up the bag she’d brought with her while Harry alerted the others. Together, the five Gryffindors left the Great Hall, meeting Luna on the stairs leading up to the Charms classroom where their first Apparition lesson was to take place.

Despite the excitement of Professor Dumbledore’s announcement just a few minutes before, Ginny was feeling extremely tired from her eventful week. When the group reached the classroom Neville poked his head in, found the room empty, and told the others he felt better waiting outside than in. Ginny murmured her agreement and leaned against the wall with her eyes closed as they waited for their diminutive professor.

“Ginny, are you all right?” Hermione asked in a concerned tone. “You looked fine at breakfast.”

Ginny didn’t open her eyes. “I’m fine, Hermione. I didn’t sleep well last night and everything is just catching me up, that’s all,” she yawned at her friend. “I’m planning to use Harry as a pillow if this theory session proves too boring.”

“Don’t you think you’d be better off in bed?”

“No. I want to be here. This is too important to miss, even if I sleep through half of it.”

There was a hint of sarcastic humour in Hermione’s voice as she said, “Just don’t snore too loudly, please.”

Ginny smiled in Hermione’s direction. “Harry’s going to shake me awake if I start to snore.”

“Sorry to keep you waiting, everyone.” Professor Flitwick’s voice interrupted the girls’ conversation. “Let’s go in and get started.”

The next two hours were filled with all sorts of theories, questions, discussions and last of all, the assignment of two hundred pages of reading to be completed by the following Saturday. While the others eagerly participated, Ginny sat and watched, letting the others carry the discussion.

As everyone packed up to leave, Professor Flitwick wandered over to Ginny’s chair. “Miss Weasley, I’m concerned that you didn’t pay very close attention to this portion of the course.”

Ginny smiled at her teacher. “I apologize, Professor. It’s been an overwhelming week for me. I’m hoping next week won’t be quite as eventful,” she told him honestly.

“I hope you are correct, Miss Weasley. Please make sure you find Miss Granger after you’ve read the assignment and have her help you with the review questions.”

“Yes, sir. Will there be a written test next week?”

“No. Not until the following week, after the Hogsmeade outing. Please be prepared, Miss Weasley. Your life may depend upon you having a complete understanding of this subject,” Professor Flitwick cautioned.

“I understand, Professor. I’ll be better rested next Saturday, I promise,” Ginny told him. She bade him good-bye and hastened out of the classroom, hoping to take a short nap before lunch and Quidditch practice.

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*


End of Part Seven




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