On the Hogwarts Express

When I got back last night, somehow I wasn’t surprised to find that Professor Dumbledore and I had been in my garden — talking - for over four hours.

Mum was frantic.  She was certain that we had been set upon and killed by Death Eaters of something equally horrible.  Dad kept her from hunting us down by insisting that the clock in the kitchen has never been wrong and that my hand still pointed to ‘home’ (which meant that not only was I still on the property, but not in any danger).

I learned a lot in four hours.  Like the fact that not only was my great grandmother (dad’s grandmother) a Natural Elemental like myself, but that her mentor was none other than Perenelle Flamel, wife of Nicolas, who was once Professor Dumbledore’s Alchemy partner.

I learned that while there are seven Elemental Sorcerers on the planet (not including Tom) that I am currently the only known elemental Practioner.  I guess Professor Dumbledore wasn’t kidding when he said that Natural Elementals were extremely rare!

When I asked him how I was supposed to learn everything that came with being a Natural Elemental, Professor Dumbledore said that the elements themselves would be my teachers.

I haven’t a clue what that is supposed to mean.  But I caught the part about Natural Elementals being incredibly powerful.

Was he really talking about me?  I don’t feel powerful.  I feel like — Ginny.  Well, I guess I sort of felt powerful when I did that ritual, but I thought it must just be the magic of the spell working.

If what Dumbledore says is true — and I have no reason to believe that it isn’t — then it wasn’t the power of the spell I felt, but my own power calling forth the elements.

He says that when harnessed by force of will, that the power of a true Natural Elemental can be nearly unlimited, that I will be able to work magic with just a well-directed thought.  He also warned me that uncontrolled emotions can also trigger the elemental power and that it is imperative to learn to control my temper (go figure!).

He says that ideally I would have trained under an older, more experienced Elemental Practitioner, but that he will have to do (seeing as that there are none available).  I need to learn how to harness this power and that he can help me to a point, but his brand of magic is entirely different than mine.

Instead he has given me my great-grandmother’s journal.  He called it a ‘Book of Shadows’.  What it amounts to is a step-by-step account of her own experience in becoming a Natural Elemental.  He says that by following in her footsteps that I should be able to learn all I will need to know about controlling my elemental power.

I am to meet with him once a week during the school year (on Sunday mornings before I floo back to the Burrow for my weekly dance lessons) so that we can go over any questions that I might have about what I’ve read or experienced. 

I don’t know what sort of story dad fed mum about why Dumbledore wanted to talk to me.  If he’s told her the truth, she certainly is taking it well.  I can’t imagine her not saying something about it if he had told her though.  It just wouldn’t be like her.  That’s mum.  She talks about everything.  I think it’s a form of therapy for her.  Some women go shopping or go on eating binges.  Mum talks.

Besides, I can’t see her taking the news that her only daughter — the baby of her family — is practicing a brand of magic that has been labeled as a Dark Art by the Ministry of Magic, in a calm, logical manner.  She’d have a kitten or two at least.

She’d have dad’s head on a platter for knowing about it and not telling her. 

In case you haven’t noticed, mum doesn’t take change well.

August 29

I tried the breathing exercises and mind clearing exercises that gran described in her journal.  Unfortunately I didn’t get the “soothing emptiness” she described.  Instead I became even more attuned to Harry’s current thoughts and feelings.

I went through the journal with a fine-tooth comb, looking for clues as to what I was doing wrong.  All I could find was a note about Perenelle’s reaction to gran’s description of the “soothing emptiness” that she experienced when meditating.

Evidently when gran mentioned it Perenelle said that she envied her.

Does that mean that Perenelle had the same problem I have?  Or perhaps it was some other distraction.  I’ll have to put this down on my list of questions to ask Professor Dumbledore the next time I see him.

Damn but I wish I knew for certain if I’m really connected to Harry somehow, or if it’s all some sort of elaborate fantasy I’ve worked up in my head!  I wish there were someone I could ask.  It would certainly make things a lot easier to deal with!

Anyway, after I’d tried out the breathing and mind clearing exercises, I spent the rest of the morning getting my clothes and books ready to be packed.  Nearly everything I own is second-hand.  By the time books and robes get to me they’re a bit the worse for wear.  I should be used to it by now.  I mean, the seventh child of a family as poor as mine can’t expect many new things.

I talked mum into picking up some black dye though, and some starch.  Between the two I’ve actually managed to make my school robes and cloak look presentable.  I don’t know why she never thought of it before. 

It didn’t take me long to pack my trunk.  My books, robes, regular clothes, cauldron, potions kit, telescope and scales all fit in with plenty of room to spare.

Perhaps it should bother me that I really have so little.  I know that last year I was utterly humiliated when I unpacked and the other girls in my dorm saw the state of my clothes, robes and cauldron.  I mean, Mandy Davenport had brand new robes, clothes, jewelry, equipment — everything!  Laura Marchbanks gets all her clothes from her older sister, but they’re still really nice and she’s so pretty it doesn’t really matter what she wears and even Lisa Jamison, who’s (who inherited all her older brother’s equipment and books) had all new clothes.

Perhaps it was the pitying looks that made me withdraw into myself the way I did, or perhaps it would have happened anyway once Tom got his claws into me.  It is possible that nothing would have made a difference after that.

This year as I packed I realized that the states of my wardrobe -the condition of my cauldron - none of these are major concerns any longer.  There are bigger issues at stake — bigger than new robes or haircuts, and those are what I need to be concerning myself with.

Twice so far Harry has prevented Voldemort from returning to his full power.  The next time he faces him, Harry could die.  What if there was something I could have done to prevent it, but I was too wrapped up in clothes and cauldrons to do anything about it?  What if I walked into another trap and Harry had to risk his life by coming after me again?

No.  I need to pay attention to what is going on around me.  I need to learn how to use my powers so that I can help to prevent Voldemort’s ever returning to full power.

It can’t be coincidence that Harry just happened to be the one to save my life (initiating this bond between us) and that he and I also just happen to have the highest Akashaic levels on the planet.  Please!

I spent the afternoon helping Ron pack.  He was all in a dither over Hermione’s owl saying that she would be staying at the Leaky Cauldron tomorrow night too. Her parents are dropping her off.  He kept dropping stuff and staring dazedly out of the window.  He’s got it bad.  I just hope I’m around when he finally gets his act together.

We made good time though, packing, because we even had time enough for one last swim in the pond before supper.

Note to self:

From now on — change into swimsuit at home.  Last I saw of my bra, Fred was using it as a slingshot to catapult turtles over the meadow hedge.

August 31

Well, we made it to the Leaky Cauldron, and mum only had to go back to the house two times for forgotten things this year.  I can proudly state that neither of the return trips was at my request!  Last year we had to go back because I forgot my diary.  Pity I remembered it actually, it would have saved everyone a lot of grief.

The first time back this year was for Ron.  He had left Scabbers sitting in his cage on the kitchen table.  The second time was Percy if you can believe it!  He wouldn’t tell any of us what it was he’d forgotten and insisted on flooing back himself, but it must have something to do with Penelope because he looked downright horrified when mum suggested that she could owl him whatever he’d left.

We’re all settled in now.  There was a brief moment of confusion when I thought that mum and dad were actually going to get a cot and have me stay in their room (children twelve and under stay free with a paying adult) but then Hermione showed up and offered to let me stay with her — thank Merlin!

I was a bit put out when mum let Ron go off on his own with Hermione but made me stay with her.  I have to keep reminding myself that she’s bound to be more protective of me now.  Not only does she not want anything else bad to happen to me, but I am the youngest, her little girl.  The baby.

She didn’t object to me using the rest of Bill and Charlie’s money to buy some new clothes for school (underwear especially.  I’m sorry, but knickers with daisies and smiley faces are just going a bit too far, don’t you think?)

So I bought new under things, several new blouses in bright, primary colors that horrified mum to no end (she was dead set on me getting pastels), three pairs of leggings, and two jumpers made out of the softest, silkiest material I’ve ever felt.  I fell absolutely in love with them.  So much so that I couldn’t decide between the honey-brown one that just matched my eyes, or the emerald green one that offsets my hair — so I bought them both!

Mum says that it was an “extravagance” but George (of all people) actually surprised me by saying that the brown one looked so good on me that it would have been a crime not to buy it!  George actually paid me a compliment!  Will wonders never cease?

We got back to the Leaky Cauldron in time for supper and found Harry, Ron and Hermione all talking with Dad.

Mum fussed over Harry as usual and she has a point this time.  He does look a bit thin, but that must come from living with Muggles who make you skip supper because someone accuses you of things you didn’t do (like spilling juice on the rug when you were drinking milk!)

I really was going to talk to him — you know — ask him if he’d played any good computer games or something equally snappy, but when he looked at me I realized that he was looking at me — seeing me — only as ‘Ron’s little sister’, ‘the youngest Weasley’.  He was also thinking that I seemed even more embarrassed than usual and was attributing it to his having saved my life last year.

If only he knew, eh?  If only he knew that my embarrassment didn’t stem from his having saved my life (and don’t misunderstand me, I will be indebted to him forever for that), but from the fact that I was fairly certain that I was able to read his mind.

I couldn’t help blushing — honest I couldn’t!

I did manage to say hello — just.  But I couldn’t bring myself to look him in the eye.  What if he saw my secret?  What if he figured it out?  I couldn’t take that chance.

If I hadn’t been so obvious about liking him these last two years perhaps I would have been able to approach him, ask him about the possibility of there being a bond between us without him assuming that I was just looking for attention from him.  But I couldn’t take that chance.  I mean, I still don’t know that what I’m seeing and feeling are actually Harry’s thoughts and emotions — not for certain.  There’s still the possibility that it could all be in my head.

Supper was a tumultuous event.  Everyone was talking over everyone else - typical Weasley meal.  Poor Hermione looked a bit uncomfortable.  She’s an only child I think.  The lot of us going at it would have to have been a bit overwhelming for her.  Harry, however, seemed to be having an excellent time.

God, I’ve grown up with Fred and George, so their off-color jokes and crude pranks don’t even phase me anymore, but poor Hermione!  They put a whoopee cushion (oldest trick in the book) in her chair when she stood up to reach across the table for the pitcher of juice.  When she sat down it made a very rude noise and for a moment I thought she was going to cry.  I would have said something, but Ron got to her first.  He actually put his hand over hers and spoke to her for a few moments in a very low voice, then he nudged her with his elbow and gave her that quirky grin of his — the one that makes any girl (even his own sister) go weak in the knees.  That got her smiling again.

Ron’s going to be a charmer I think.  If I’m not mistaken, he’s going to be every bit as handsome as Bill.  Thing is, while Bill and Charlie have played the field when it comes to women, Ron’s heart is already spoken for.  It may take him years to come to terms with it — but he and Hermione will end up together.  I can feel it in my bones.

~*~

Ginny finished her sentence and put her journal and pen down on the bedside table and leaned back against the headboard. 

Yes.  Harry was there, he’d gone down to the bar to retrieve Ron’s rat tonic and was listening in to a conversation her parents were having about Sirius Black.  He felt bad about eavesdropping, but seeing as that the conversation was about him, she could understand why he felt justified in listening.

“Harry’s got a right to know.  I’ve tried to tell fudge, but he insists on treating Harry like a child.  He’s thirteen years old and-”

“Arthur, the truth would terrify him!  Do you really want to send Harry back to school with that hanging over him?  For heaven’s sake, he’s happy not knowing!”

Ginny scowled slightly.  She didn’t think her mum was being fair.  Perhaps Harry was happy because he didn’t know — whatever it was they were talking about.  But that didn’t mean he shouldn’t know.  If it was serious enough for her parents to have a row about . . .

“Molly, they say Sirius Black’s mad, and maybe he is, but he was clever enough to escape from Azkaban, and that’s supposed to be impossible. . .”

Her father’s voice sounded tense, serious.  She could almost see him in her mind’s eye — the tiny crease that appeared between his eyebrows when he was feeling deeply about something.

There was a thud on wood that snapped Ginny out of her reverie.  It sounded as if her dad had banged his fist on the table.

“Molly, how many times do I have to tell you?  They didn’t report it in the press because Fudge wanted it kept quiet, but Fudge went out to Azkaban the night Black escaped.  The guards told Fudge that Black’s been talking in his sleep for a while now.  Always the same words:  ‘He’s at Hogwarts . . .he’s at Hogwarts.’  Black is deranged, Molly, and he wants Harry dead.  If you ask me, he thinks that murdering Harry will bring You-Know-Who back to power.  Black lost everything the night Harry stopped You-Know-Who, and he’s had twelve years alone in Azkaban to brood on that . . . .”

Now that was new!  No one had ever told her that Sirius Black had escaped with the specific intent of finding and killing Harry!  No wonder the Ministry was in an uproar!  No wonder they were footing the rather hefty bill for her entire family to stay at the Leaky Cauldron so that they could safely see Harry to King’s Cross Station!  That was the only way they could possibly manage to protect him without him knowing he was being protected.

Her attention snapped back to the present as the muffled yells and thumps coming from the room Ron and Percy were sharing became more pronounced.

Ginny slid off of her bed and stuck her head out of the doorway. Fred and George were sitting on the top step, looking smug.

“What did you do, nick his badge again?” asked Ginny coolly.

“Course we did,” said Fred with a smirk.

“We’ve been improving it,” said George.

“Can’t let the git get too full of himself now, can we?” added Fred.

“What did you do to it?”

Fred held up the badge.  It now read ‘Big Head Boy’.

“Cool!” said Ginny, grinning.  “When are you going to give it back?  Sounds to me like he’s about to tear Ron’s head off in there.”

“Give it a mo-” said Fred easily.

“Let him stew,” said George, tossing the badge in the air and catching it deftly.

“He’ll come to his senses,” said Fred.

“And realize that Ron couldn’t have had anything to do with it,” added George.

“But by that time,” said Fred

“It’ll be back where we found it,” said George.

“And no one will be the wiser,” the twins chorused.

“Unless of course I decide that I need a little extra spending money and decide to blackmail you,” said Ginny comfortably.  She folded her arms and leaned casually against the doorframe.

Fred and George stared at her.

“You wouldn’t!” said Fred bluntly.

“Wouldn’t I?” said Ginny, raising an eyebrow at him.

George stared at her for at least ten seconds then threw back his head and laughed heartily.

“She learns fast, Fred-O,” he said admiringly.

“Well, she did learn from the best,” agreed Fred.

“Tell you what, Ginny,” interjected George.  “You take the badge.  I predict that in about five minutes Perce will storm off downstairs to report the theft to mum and dad.  When he does, you slip it back onto his bedside table.  It was propped against the left hand side of his picture of Penelope.”

“And what do I get, besides the opportunity to get blamed for your prank?”

“She’s quick,” said Fred.  “O.K., how about seven sickles a month from our pocket money until Christmas.”

Ginny looked at Fred appraisingly.

“I’ll do it,” she said and then quickly added, “for seven sickles a month from each of you until Christmas.”

“And ruthless too,” said Fred.

“Deal,” said George.

Ginny looked at Fred.

“Deal,” he agreed and held out the badge.

She grinned and took it from his hand.

“He’ll never know what hit him,” she said coolly and felt, rather than saw the admiring look the twins exchanged behind her back.

~*~

September 1st

Well, I must admit to that being the most humiliating experience of my life to date.

What was I thinking?  That just because Ron had been nice to me all summer that he would start including me now that he’s got his best mates back?  Perhaps I was under the impression that now I’d had my own run in with Lord Voldemort that the fabulous trio would seem me as one of them?  How stupid could I have been?  I guess I’m still just a simple twelve-year-old girl after all.

The day started off all right.  Dad somehow managed to secure us Ministry cars (and drivers!) to shuttle us to King’s Cross Station.  You could tell that the adults were all on edge, as if they expected Black to jump out from behind a dustbin and attack us at any moment.

I tend to agree with Harry’s thoughts on that subject.  I mean, if he survived Voldemort as a baby, if he’s avoided him twice more since he began Hogwarts, why do the adults tend to think that he can’t take care of himself? 

Anyway, we got to King’s Cross without incident.  I went through the barrier with Percy.  As we emerged on the other side he spotted Penelope at once and began puffing out his chest to make certain she’d see the Head Boy badge (he still hadn’t noticed that it said ‘Big Head Boy’) and basically acting like a bantam rooster.

Harry noticed it right off too, cause he caught my eye and I felt his grin, even though he was trying desperately not to.  We both managed to contain our amusement, but only just.

Mum went through her usual recital — giving out hugs and lunches all around.  And there we were, pulling away from the station.  I don’t know what I was thinking, possibly that Ron at least would make an effort to include me now, but I should have known better. Harry went and whispered something to Ron and Hermione and next think I know Ron’s saying, “go away, Ginny.”  I left in a huff.

I guess I can’t blame them.  They’re best mates and all and I’m just Ron’s little sister.  But tell me this.  Where did they think I was going to go? It’s not exactly as if   I’m swamped with friends after all.  I didn’t get a chance to really get to know anyone last year.  I was a bit, er, preoccupied.

Well, I wandered off down the train.  I passed compartment after compartment of laughing and chattering students.  Almost every compartment was full.  Those that weren’t full didn’t seem to be in need of a lone, twelve-year-old girl toting a worn leather knapsack. 

Draco Malfoy, his two thugs and the ever-present Pansy Parkinson were holding court in one compartment.  Both Crabbe and Goyle made rude hand gestures at me as I passed (which I returned enthusiastically ) and to my horror, Malfoy actually had the audacity to look me up and down.  I sear his gaze had weight.  I fought down a blush and when his gaze finally reached my face I looked him straight in the eye and told him “In your dreams, Malfoy!”

He actually went pink!  It was priceless!  Too bad there was nobody around to witness my triumph!

Fred, George and Lee Jordan were having a grand time in the compartment they were sharing with Angelina Johnson, Katie Bell and Alicia Spinet.  I would have stayed there, but there wasn’t a spare corner to be had.

There were a line of first years queued up outside another compartment.  Colin was taking pictures for free - telling the first years that they could have them to send home to their families once he’d developed them.  Colin may be a geek, but he’s a nice geek.

Finally, at the very end of the train, in a sort of alcove near the bathrooms I came across Neville Longbottom.  He was sitting cross-legged on his trunk.  He was holding his toad, Trevor, in both of his hands and looking rather forlorn.

I asked him if this end of the trunk was taken and actually got him to chuckle.  Turns out he couldn’t find a place to sit either.  Anyway, I challenged him to a game of wizard’s chess and we ate pumpkin pasties and traded Chocolate Frog cards and talked.

He’s really not a bad bloke, Neville.  Not my type, but a really nice sort of guy.

So here we’ve sat for the last five hours.  Both prefects who came buy conveniently overlooked us.  We must look pretty harmless, or maybe they just didn’t want to make us feel bad that we obviously didn’t have anywhere else to sit.

~*~

Ginny looked up, startled.  The train was slowing down.  She quickly tucked her journal back into her bag.

“Neville!” she hissed, nudging Neville, who had been dozing with his head against the wall.

“Ginny, what?”

“What time is it?” she asked grabbing Neville’s wrist and holding his watch up to her eyes.  “We can’t be there yet, but the train is slowing down.”

Neville looked at his watch too.

“Its too early to be at Hogsmeade!” he was suddenly wide awake.  “Stay here.  Here, hold Trevor for me, I’ll go see what’s going on.”

Ginny clutched the gulping toad to her chest. 

Something’s coming.

As if in response to her thought, the lights in the corridor flickered and went out.

Ginny froze.

I can’t stay here, she thought wildly.  Something’s coming.  IT is coming!

She leapt to her feet, still grasping Trevor, and hurried blindly down the passageway, counting compartment doors with her trailing hand.  Four doors.  That’s where Harry, Ron and Hermione were, Neville too, probably.

Her hand found the door latch and slid it back.  It rolled easily, too easily, almost as if —

“Ow!”

She’d walked head on into someone.

“Who’s that?”

“Who’s that?”

“Ginny?”

“Hermione?”

“What are you doing?”

“I was looking for-” she paused, “Ron.”

“Come in, sit down,” said Hermione’s voice.

Ginny clutched at Hermione’s hand, keeping a tight hold on Trevor, and backed herself up.”

“Not here!” said Harry’s voice as the back of her knees came in contact with something warm.”

“I’m here!”

She took a step sideways and stepped on someone’s foot.

“Ouch!” said Neville.

“Quiet!” said a deep, rather raspy voice.

The carriage was suddenly full of a blue-white light.  A thin, haggard looking man stood by the windows.  He was holding a handful of dancing, blue-white flames.”

“Stay where you are.”  He got to his feet, but before he could go any further, the compartment door slid open.

In the doorway stood a dementor.  It had to be a dementor!  There was nothing else it could be, for the compartment had suddenly gone piercingly, bitingly cold.  The cold was more than skin deep.  It was a cold that reached right into your heart.

It drew in a long, slow, rattling breath as if it were trying to suck all of the air out of the room and Ginny was suddenly back in the Chamber.  Tom was erupting from the diary.  He had her by the arms and was lowering his head to hers, covering her mouth with his own.  The kiss was —

Cold.

He was flooding her mind with hatred.

So cold.

But even as the horrible things he was showing her began flickering through her mind, Ginny became aware of the fact that Harry had slumped onto the floor of the compartment.  There was a rushing sound and terrified screams — a woman’s screams.

She was falling.

But no.  She was still sitting on the compartment seat.  Neville must have pulled her down beside him.  He was falling.  Harry was falling.  Falling through an icy, white mist, the woman’s screams filling his head.

The haggard looking man stepped over Harry’s twitching body, pulling out his wand as he did so.

“None of us is hiding Sirius Black under our cloaks, go!”

The dementor did not move.  It stared at Harry’s limp form as if transfixed.  Ginny was certain that she could feel it’s hunger.

Boy.  Mine.

“Expecto Patronum!” said the man quietly, and a silvery  mist in the shape of a large wolf shot out of the wand and leapt at the dementor, it’s fangs catching it in the chest.

And then it was gone.

As if the lights could sense the creature’s departure, the lights flickered back into life.

“Harry?” Ron was on his knees now, slapping Harry gently on the face.

Harry stirred.

Ginny held a hand up to her own face, which was stinging slightly.

“Are you O.K.?”

“Yeah — what happened?  Where’s that — that thing?  Who screamed?”

Ginny’s heart plummeted into her stomach.

“No one screamed,” said Ron.

Yes, they did.

Ginny closed her eyes and swallowed hard.  She had heard the screams too.  She shuddered.  She’d felt Tom, but the mist, the screams; those had been Harry’s.

It was real.

Ginny passed a trembling hand over her face.

Oh my god!

What did it mean?

I am tuned in to Harry’s thoughts.

She ate the chocolate the gaunt man handed her, but it couldn’t still the frantic beating of her heart.

What the hell had just happened?

She’d been inside of Harry’s head - that is what had just happened.  She wasn’t crazy.  It wasn’t all in her head.  It was real. 

“You O.K.?” Neville asked her.

“Yeah.”

“You’re shaking.”

Ginny shrugged.  She was shaking.  No use denying it.

“You don’t look so good yourself,” she retorted.

Neville gave her a wan smile.

“I — I’m just glad we didn’t meet that — that thing, you know,” he gulped, “out there!”

Ginny shivered and tucked her still trembling hands under her thighs.

Harry was sitting bolt upright between Ron and Hermione on the seat opposite them.  He was as white as a sheet and a sheen of sweat stood out on his face.  His eyes had a faraway, glassy look.

Ginny could feel the shame coursing through him; shame at being so weak as to pass out, embarrassment that anyone else had seen his momentary lapse.

It’s O.K. to be afraid, she let her heart whisper.

No!  I’m a Gryffindor.  We’re brave.  We don’t whimp out that easily.

Damn it, Harry!  Godric himself would have been terrified of that thing.

He thought he was going crazy.  The screams no one else had heard.

They were real, Harry.  They were memories.

Of what?  Of who?

Before she could respond, the gaunt man — Professor Lupin is what Hermione had called him — was speaking to them quietly, urgently.  And then the train stopped.  They had reached Hogsmeade.

Ginny fished Trevor out from beneath the seat (she had let him go when the dementor had arrived) and handed him out to Neville.

The platform was awash with students.  They were all heading for the carriages, which would take them up to the castle.  Porters were unloading trunks and bags and boxes and were piling them onto wagons at the far end of the platform.

Ginny waited in line.  When she climbed into the next available carriage she found Luna Lovegood already sitting by the far window.

“Hi, Luna.”

“Hello yourself.”

Luna was the same age as Ginny.  They’d known each other for years.  Luna’s family lived on the other side of Ottery St. Catchpole.  But they had never exactly been friends.

Something had happened to Luna a couple years back, something that had caused her to become rather — odd. 

That makes two of us then, she thought bitterly.  Had having Tom Riddle in her mind put her in the same category as Luna?

With her heightened sense of awareness, Ginny realized as she stared at the girl across from her, that there was absolutely no evil whatsoever in Luna.  Not only that, but she was completely honest.

“You don’t ever lie, Luna, do you?” Ginny blurted out before she could help herself.

Luna looked back appraisingly.

“I don’t need to,” she said evenly, acting as if Ginny’s question had been the most normal thing in the world.  “Hello,” said Luna looking at someone behind her.  “Did you want to ride with us?”

Ginny turned around.  It was Neville.  He climbed into the carriage followed closely by Colin Creevey.

Luna turned back to her window.  She was humming something under her breath.

“You O.K.?” Neville asked Ginny concernedly as he sat down beside her.  “You still look pretty pale.”

“Were those dementors on the train?” asked Colin in a voice so high pitched he was nearly squeaking.

“I suppose they could have been,” said Luna dreamily.  “But it was probably just a depression field generated by the Ministry of Magic.  All Aurors are required to carry a field generator on their person at all times.”

Neville opened his mouth, but closed it again when Ginny nudged him with her foot. He glanced at her and she shook her head.  It was better not to get Luna started.  Once she began ranting about the Ministry, there would be no stopping her.

Neville seemed to understand her gesture for he turned instead to Colin, who seemed to be dying to tell someone all about his new camera.

“Dad bought it for me, after the old one got melted,” Colin said, nearly bouncing as he pulled the sleek piece from the camera bag slung over his shoulder.  “It’s got an auto-zoom and everything!  Look . . .”

Ginny tuned them out and turned to look out of her own window as the horseless carriages rolled towards Hogwarts.

What had just happened?

She had her proof - that is what had happened.  She had been seeing through Harry’s eyes all summer. But what did that mean exactly? 

That I am bound to him.

“Superstitious bilge,” Ginny muttered under her breath.

Then why did it feel so right?