Ginny Weasley and the Red Shoes

Chapter Two – The Welcoming Feast

By the time we reach Hogwarts I’m more than ready to get off the train and into the feast – anything to avoid listening to one more boast about Armand’s “gorgeous slate-gray eyes.” In my opinion, there’s really only one color for truly gorgeous eyes, which most certainly isn’t the boring brown of my own. Not that I moon over them, mind.

As I follow my housemates from the carriages into the Great Hall I look over and see that Harry, Ron and Hermione have already taken seats in the middle of the Gryffindor table. I automatically turn to go sit with them before I stop myself. Summer is over and this isn’t the Burrow. I’m at a loss when I suddenly spot Colin Creevey sitting not too far away. I decide to take the seat next to him.

“Hullo, Colin!”

“Hi, Ginny!” He breaks into a smile which I return. It feels good to have someone who is sincerely glad to see you. “Isn’t it great to be back?”

“It certainly is,” I agree. Every year Hogwarts feels more and more like home to me.

We patiently watch the Sorting Ceremony, after which we launch into nonstop conversation. Before I know it, dinner is over and Dumbledore is standing up to give beginning of term announcements. He has a few important comments, but I’m only half-listening, focusing instead on the back of Harry’s head. I’m dwelling on troubling memories, wondering about what could possibly happen to him this year, when something unexpected catches my attention.

“…Quidditch tryouts will begin next week, and as there are several openings on many house teams, those of you hoping to garner glory should start preparing this weekend. Also, Professor Sinistra wishes to give notice that this year a new Dance Club will be starting.” His eyes flash merrily over towards my brother, Fred. “Those of you needing to brush up on your footwork should make plans to attend.”

Colin turns to me.

“You should join, Ginny.”

“What, Quidditch?” I ask him, surprised. Before that moment I haven’t given it serious thought, though Ron and Harry have been going on about finding a replacement for Wood all summer.

“Actually, I meant the Dance Club.” Colin looks down at the table and I watch him scratch his ear; he’d been doing that since late last year. I find it rather funny. “It might be fun.”

I glance at Harry out of the corner of my eye while I think again about the Quidditch tryouts. Surely growing up in a family overpopulated with male fanatics gives me an edge over the competition. Merlin knows I’ve played it often enough. Briefly I imagine myself on the pitch practicing with Harry, up in the air flying alongside him. It could be my one big chance to spend countless hours with him, legitimately. Of course, if I were to actually make it on the team I’d have to keep my mind on the game; I wouldn’t be able to watch him in action like I could as a spectator …

Sometimes I really can’t believe my mind still works this way.

I look back at Colin. He’s waiting patiently for my answer.

“All right, Colin – let’s!”