Secrets

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CHAPTER 2: Unpleasant Surprises

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As soon as she'd slipped into her black school robes -- which were, despite Mum's best efforts, somewhat frayed around the cuffs -- Ginny called goodbye to Hermione and dashed back along the corridor, narrowly avoiding collisions with several other students and the witch with the sweet cart. She swung into Daphne and Apple's compartment and collapsed onto the seat, flushed and panting.

"It's a madhouse out there," she said. "And we won't reach Hogsmeade for nearly a quarter hour yet."

Apple shrugged. "Strange are the ways of Hogwarts students, but ours not to reason why. We just go where we're told."

"So you say." Daphne nudged her cousin and grinned. "That attitude won't last long, if I know you half as well as I think I do." Turning to Ginny, she said, "D'you know how we get to Hogwarts from Hogsmeade? My parents said something about a lake but they've also mentioned carriages -- and I've never heard of a carriage that floated!"

Ginny giggled. "That would leak terribly, wouldn't it? I think it's boats for first years and carriages for everyone else. The idea is to keep us busy so they can have everything set up for the Sorting before we get there, but Fred and George say first years always end up waiting anyhow so it's rather pointless."

"Huh. Probably just a tradition, then. Traditions don't need reasons, after all."

"Oh, but there is a reason," Apple said suddenly, her black eyes glinting. "Don't you remember, Daphne? A giant squid lives in the Hogwarts lake and they float us across as an offering -- if the squid wants a meal it eats a student, thereby sealing the year with good luck. There are loads of ancient rituals like that, designed to invoke the power and goodwill of guardian spirits. It's very primitive magic, but quite effective. That's why they keep up the tradition."

Daphne clasped her hands and nodded solemnly. "Quite true. Yes, I'd forgotten about the sacrifice. I'm sure the squid hasn't eaten anyone in a good while, though -- do you suppose that explains the curse on the Defense Against the Dark Arts position?"

"Oh, doubtless," agreed Apple. "Perhaps that can be remedied this year."

Ginny stared at them in disbelief. The rational part of her mind screamed at her to think of Fred and George -- and to remember that Dad worked at the Ministry and for God's sake she'd know if anything like that were true -- but Apple sounded so matter-of-fact... "You can't be serious," she said.

Apple shook her head and said, "Oh, deadly serious. One should never lie about dangerous magical rituals, you know." She sighed. "You've no reason to worry, of course -- it's only Muggle-borns who're taken -- they'd never be able to hush it up if any old wizarding families were... interfered with."

"You're having me on, I know you are," Ginny said accusingly.

Apple grinned rather guiltily and said, "Yes, but the expression on your face!" Daphne burst out laughing, no longer able to restrain herself.

"Hmph." Ginny folded her arms and glared at the cousins.

Daphne appeared to be collecting herself for an apology when a voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train; it will be taken to the school separately."

The three girls looked at each other. "Should we do anything to get ready?" Ginny asked.

"There are hoards of people in the corridor," said Daphne, pressing her face against the glass of the compartment door. "Perhaps we're meant to wait out there."

Apple clicked her tongue. "That's silly. We'll stay here -- it's much more comfortable to wait sitting down. We can leave once the crowd clears out a bit."

"Good idea," said Daphne, sliding back into her seat.

The train gradually slowed and slid to a halt in a puff of steam and a piercing squeal of brakes. People pushed their way through the corridor to the exits, shoving and shouting as they collided and tripped on each other's robes. The girls waited a minute or two -- Daphne laughing at the squashed students, Apple calmly checking the locks on her trunk, and Ginny fiddling nervously with the cuffs of her robes -- before leaving the compartment and stepping out onto a tiny, dark platform.

Ginny shivered in the cool night air, looking around for Hagrid, the groundskeeper, whom her brothers had told her would take care of the first years. After a few seconds, she spotted a lantern bobbing high over the students at the far end of the platform. "I think we go over there," she said, pointing.

The girls shoved their way toward the lantern, their path progressively less crowded as they neared the end of the platform. They were soon confirmed in their choice of direction when Hagrid, who was even more gigantic and hairy than Ginny had imagined, raised his lantern still higher and called, "Firs' years! Firs' years this way. Firs' years at th' end o' th' platform." A small circle of first years huddled nervously around him, like scraggly ornamental shrubbery ringing a massive oak.

"Who is that?" breathed Daphne, as they approached. "He's enormous."

"That's Hagrid, the groundskeeper," said Ginny, pleased to know the answer. "He's nothing as scary as he looks -- he's all mushy, really, Ron says -- though he has a funny idea of what creatures make good pets. Ron said he even wanted to raise a dragon!" The girls stopped just before reaching the other first years; Daphne peered curiously into the gloom off the end of the platform.

"Hmm. Perhaps we should tell him about our dragon debacle then, and ask his advice for clearing up the aftereffects," said Apple, gazing thoughtfully at Hagrid, who was moving down the platform in search of more first years, parting the students in waves as he passed.

"Hush," hissed Daphne, spinning around to glare at her cousin. "Your mum still doesn't know about that! You can't tell anyone."

"She won't stay in the dark forever, you know," Apple hissed back. "Alexandria said she'd tell if we didn't get it fixed in a year." She noticed Ginny listening curiously and started. "Don't say anything about anything! It's very important. And don't worry about it either -- it was months ago and nowhere near here, and I'm almost certain the dragon can't find us anymore, since we led it into that Confundus spell. Besides, even if it could, we'd be safe at Hogwarts."

Ginny nodded, filing the instructions and curious half-story away for consideration. The cousins were shutting her out again. She wondered what on earth had happened between them and the mysterious dragon. Perhaps Tom would have some ideas; she decided to ask him before she went to bed.

Hagrid had now succeeded in gathering the rest of the first years and was counting them, ticking them off on his huge fingers. "All here? This way, now -- mind yer feet," he boomed cheerfully, and led them off the platform and down a narrow, slippery path, intermittently lit by his swaying lantern. Ginny misjudged her footing and skidded several times, narrowly catching herself on the surrounding bushes. This was an absolutely mad way to get to Hogwarts -- couldn't the school at least have provided extra lanterns?

Suddenly they rounded one final curve and a vast, dark lake spread out before them. "An' there's Hogwarts, jus' over there," said Hagrid, waving across the lake to a massive, rambling castle. Warm light gleamed from turret and tower windows, making the dark water sparkle like stars.

"Ooooh!" said Daphne. "It's beautiful." Ginny nodded, too impressed to answer properly; the reason for the mad, dark, slippery path became clear.

Hogwarts was a fairy-tale castle, Ginny decided, remembering the book of Muggle stories Dad had acquired for her years ago on a raid -- a witch had charmed the illustrations to move, and had squeezed the content of seven books into one volume. She sighed happily. "I can't believe we're going to live there," she said. "It looks too grand for us. A lost princess should live there, sleeping and waiting for her prince to come and wake her. Or maybe a dragon. Not a bunch of students."

"You're a hopeless romantic, I suppose," Apple said, smiling kindly. "Ah well. Be that as it may, Hogwarts will be our home for seven years. I only hope it isn't as drafty as Aster House."

"No other castle could be as drafty as Aster House," said Daphne with a grimace. "Even if it were missing half its walls. I still say your parents should sell that rubbish heap, family seat or not."

Ginny fought a mild surge of resentment. The Weasleys were as old a family as any, but they had no grand seat, only a ramshackle cottage. "Hush," she said. "Hagrid's giving instructions."

Hagrid pointed to a tiny fleet of rowboats dragged onto the shore of the lake and said, "No more'n four to a boat. Hop in now, don' waste time. Sooner yeh get to Hogwarts, sooner yeh'll be Sorted."

Daphne rushed off to the last boat on the left, Ginny and Apple stumbling in her wake. "The left one's the best," she cried, and settled comfortably on the front bench, facing into the center of the boat. Apple climbed in carefully and sat beside her cousin; Ginny sat across from Daphne.

"Shouldn't you turn around?" Ginny asked. "You'll want to watch where we're going."

Daphne waved her hands dismissively. "No, the only thing I want to see is the giant squid and I can watch for that perfectly well facing this way. Besides, I can talk to you."

"True," Ginny said. "I wonder why there's a squid in the lake -- they're not magical, are they?"

"Not particularly, but wizards have kept them in moats for ages," said Apple. "We used to have one at Aster House, actually, but Great-aunt Hortense turned it out and replaced it with goldfish. She said they were more cheerful, and a suitable Hufflepuff color."

Ginny giggled.

"Anyway," continued Apple, "squids were thought to be more terrifying than sharks -- it's the tentacles, I suppose. Also, unlike strictly magical creatures, they don't require the use of really strong Memory Charms if Muggles happen to see them. Though I'm sure if a Muggle saw the giant squid--"

"Excuse me," interrupted a thin voice, which sounded as if its owner hadn't spoken for a long time. "May I ride with you?" Turning, Ginny saw a skinny girl with a messy brown plait standing stiffly beside their boat -- she looked composed, but her eyes betrayed a certain amount of nerves.

"Oh, sure," said Daphne, smiling at the stranger. "Sit down! My name's Daphne, this is my cousin Apple, and this is Ginny." She waved at the two of them as she spoke their names.

The skinny girl nodded. "Thanks," she said, climbing into the boat and sitting next to Ginny. "I'm Xanthe Delaflor. I think I saw Ginny on the train. Did you find your brother?"

Ginny flushed, freshly mortified. Was that horrible search with Hermione the only thing anyone had noticed about her? "No, I didn't, but I'm sure Mum and Dad will get him up here somehow," she said.

At that point Hagrid looked around and called, "Everyone in? Let's be off, then. FORWARD." The boats gave a sickening lurch, then floated smoothly forward across the water. Xanthe looked amazed and Ginny wondered if she were Muggle-born -- surely self-propelling boats weren't that exciting. However, the other girl collected herself and silently watched the approaching castle. Apple, also silent, seemed to be thinking deeply about nothing in particular.

Ginny peered over the side of the boat. Daphne was hanging so far over the edge that her face was damp with spray and nearly underwater when the boat dipped. "Any luck?" Ginny asked.

"Nah," said Daphne. "But I think I saw a grindylow!"

"There are grindylows in the lake? That's dangerous! Are you sure it's safe to cross like this, and at night?"

"Who cares?" said Daphne, leaning an inch closer to the water; a small wave splashed water up her nose and she sneezed. She produced a handkerchief from beneath her robes, blew her nose loudly, and said, "I wonder where the squid is. Maybe it's sleeping. Do squids dream?"

Ginny shrugged.

"Apple, do squids dream?" asked Daphne.

"I don't know," said Apple, without turning. "Nobody's ever bothered to find out. Perhaps that can be your life's work. Now leave me alone; I'm thinking."

"Ravenclaw," muttered Daphne, and returned to peering downwards, trying to see into the depths of the lake. Ginny stared across the dark water, hoping to see a tentacle break the surface. Daphne delivered a running commentary on what passed under the boat, but Ginny paid little attention, lost in nervous anticipation of their arrival at the castle, and the Sorting.

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All too soon the little fleet sailed into cavern under Hogwarts, where the boats halted at a small harbor. Hagrid led the first years up a long passageway to the front of the castle, checked again that everyone was present, and knocked on the door.

A tall, black-haired witch -- Professor McGonagall, Ginny assumed -- opened the door. She looked sternly at the gaggle of students before her.

Hagrid coughed and said, "The firs' years, Professor McGonagall." Aha, thought Ginny, I was right.

"She's Head of Gryffindor," she whispered to Daphne. "Teaches Transfiguration. Very strict." Daphne nodded.

"Thank you, Hagrid," said Professor McGonagall. "You may go to the Hall now." Hagrid ducked his head and clumped off to a set of double doors on the right of the entry hall, while Professor McGonagall led the first years the other way to a small antechamber. Ginny pulled closer to Daphne.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall said briskly, and rattled into an obviously well-rehearsed explanation of the houses, house points, the House Cup, and the Sorting. "The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you smarten yourselves up as much as possible while you wait," she finished. Her eyes swept disapprovingly over the crowd.

Ginny raked her fingers through her hair and folded the frayed edges of her cuffs under. Next to her, Apple dusted her robes and Xanthe tried to plaster stray wisps of hair into her plait. Daphne just grinned, despite the lake water soaking her collar and hair.

"I shall return shortly, when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Wait quietly." She swept out of the chamber, and a swell of conversation rose in her wake.

"Do you know how they Sort us?" Xanthe whispered to Ginny.

"No," said Ginny, fingering her cuffs. "My brothers told me we had to wrestle a troll, but they're a bunch of idiots. I expect there's some spell to find out what you really are inside." She realized she was fraying her cuffs more and bit her lip instead. "I'm never going to be brave enough for Gryffindor."

"Cheer up," Daphne said. "You're a Weasley. Of course you'll be in Gryffindor! Now me, I might be in a bit of trouble. I'm a Rumluck but you know I'm not Hufflepuff material. I'll probably confuse the living daylights out of whatever person or contraption they have Sorting us."

She turned to Xanthe, curiosity lighting her face. "Say, where do you think you'll be? We talked on the train -- Ginny's a born Gryffindor, Apple's bound to be a Ravenclaw, and I'm all over the place -- what about you?"

"Ravenclaw," Xanthe said, perhaps a shade too firmly; she looked much more uncertain than she sounded. "My mother was a Winterbourne and we've always been Ravenclaws."

Daphne nodded cheerfully. "It's a good house. Much better than Hufflepuff." She leaned forward conspiratorially and said, "I think I'll scream if I'm in Hufflepuff. I've spent my whole life with a family of Hufflepuffs, and nicer people you could not find, but duller people you couldn't find either! Gryffindors are brave and daring, Slytherins are cunning and sneaky, Ravenclaws are smart, but Hufflepuffs are just nice and hardworking. Very boring."

"That's not nice," said Ginny, surprised at Daphne's public disdain for her family's house. "You shouldn't say things like that."

Daphne shrugged. "I know. I love my family, don't I? It's true, though -- Hufflepuff is the house you get when they don't know where else to put you. You never see Hufflepuffs rise far in any field -- they're background people, the ones nobody notices because they're always there and they always do what they're supposed to do. Which is very nice and reassuring, but boring. Very dull."

Xanthe rubbed the tip of her plait between her fingers, looking, Ginny thought, very apprehensive. Was she afraid she'd be Sorted into Hufflepuff? If she was, Daphne certainly wasn't helping.

"I don't see anything wrong with Hufflepuff at all," Ginny said, trying to both reprove Daphne and distract Xanthe. "They're very nice people and there's nothing wrong with being reliable. If I don't get into Gryffindor, I wouldn't mind being a Hufflepuff. It would be ages better than Slytherin."

"What's wrong with Slytherins?" Xanthe asked.

Ginny was aghast. "They're horrid," she said firmly, waving her hands for emphasis. "Sneaky, conniving, cheating, manipulating toad-lickers. All of them." Ginny shuddered, remembering Draco Malfoy's father -- she had never felt more helpless in her life than when that man had taken her secondhand Transfiguration book and examined it as if passing judgment on her family for seven generations, and finding them to be scum. Her family was not scum. He was scum. Slytherins were scum.

"Hey!" Daphne exclaimed, breaking into Ginny's thoughts. She looked hurt. "My cousin Alexandria was in Slytherin, and she's dead cool. Your brother Charlie likes her, even. I'd take Slytherin over Hufflepuff any day."

"Hush," Apple said suddenly, speaking for the first time since they'd entered the castle. "Professor McGonagall's coming."

The stern witch swept back into the room, stilling conversation. "Form a line and follow me," she said, and led the first years across the entrance hall and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

Ginny gasped. The cavernous hall was lit by thousands of candles, floating in midair over four long tables, set with golden plates and goblets. The other students watched the first years with interest -- from the Slytherin table, where he sat sandwiched between two huge, ugly boys, Draco shot Ginny a knowing smirk; she seethed. Slimy toad-licking arse. What right did he have to look smug anyhow, after the way his father behaved?

To steady herself, she looked across the hall to the Gryffindor table. She spotted Percy, Fred, George, Hermione and Neville, but Ron and Harry were nowhere to be seen. Hermione briefly set aside her worried expression to give Ginny a wide smile, Neville sent her a tiny wave, the twins cheered, and Percy beamed in as dignified a manner as he could manage.

Despite her nerves, Ginny felt a glow of pride and gratitude warm her as Professor McGonagall led the first years to the front of the room and lined them up before the staff table, facing the rest of the school.

Professor McGonagall fetched a four-legged stool and a stained, patched, and extremely battered hat that she silently set on the stool in front of the first years. Ginny stared nervously at the hat, wondering if she would have to perform a spell on it, or if it was a symbol to show them how useless and worthless they were. How on earth could an old hat Sort anyone into anything?

Suddenly the hat twitched -- Ginny started with surprise -- and opened a tear near its base. In a thin, scratchy voice it began to recite:

"When you unto these hallowed stones have come

To learn and grow and spread your new-fledged wings,

You must be Sorted, each and every one,

Into four Houses, of which I now sing:

In Gryffindor they value spirits brave

And valiant, whose bright courage fights for truth;

While Ravenclaw is home to those whose grave

And ruthless search for knowledge, 'spite their youth,

Is endless; Hufflepuff, the house of toil

And patience, shelters mercy, love, and peace;

While wrapped in Slytherin's seductive coils

Lurk cunning, pride, ambition's choking leash.

For all these qualities I'll search your hearts;

I've never yet been wrong. Step up. Let's start!"

Heavy silence fell across the Great Hall, broken by scattered, tentative clapping. Judging by their disappointed expressions, the older students had expected something rather different. The Sorting Hat slumped and said irritably, "I would have sung something, but I have a head-cold and I can't exactly take Pepper-Up potion, can I? On with the show!"

Professor McGonagall unrolled a long scroll. "Aarons, Zephyrus," she said, and a blond, skinny boy walked forward, somewhat unsteadily, and let the hat fall over his eyes.

"RAVENCLAW!" the hat shouted after a few seconds, and the table second from the right burst into cheers. Scattered applause rose from the other three tables as Zephyrus set the hat down and walked off to join his new housemates.

Ginny's stomach sank as she realized she would be nearly the last to be Sorted. She'd have to watch everyone join their new houses, and have all eyes directed on her at the end, wondering why she was holding everything up. And she didn't feel valiant, wise, or cunning at all. She probably would end in Hufflepuff. The twins would laugh at her, Percy would sniff about a lack of proper ambition, Ron would ignore her even more than before, and Mum and Dad would be dreadfully kind and understanding and terribly disappointed.

Distracted by these uncomfortable thoughts, she missed the next several names, only coming back to herself when Professor McGonagall called, "Delaflor, Xanthe," and Xanthe twitched beside her. Ginny squeezed her hand reassuringly. Xanthe smiled tremulously and walked forward to the stool. The hat dropped over her face and she sat in silence for over a minute, hands clenched bloodless on the edges of the stool.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the Sorting Hat. Xanthe slammed it back onto the stool and walked dejectedly to the Hufflepuff table, ignoring the smiles and cheers of her new housemates. Ginny tried to catch her eye and smile, but Xanthe paid no attention.

Ginny sighed. Xanthe was being very silly and self-indulgent -- and what did she have against Hufflepuff anyhow? They were lovely people, always got on with Gryffindors, and the Hat had certainly made them sound better than Ravenclaw. Well, you could lead a horse to water, but you couldn't make it drink.

She watched the other first years being Sorted. Four in a row -- "Evans, Morgan," "Farthingale, Hester," "Fitzroy, Angelique," and "Gelfand, Ruth" -- went to Slytherin; Draco Malfoy looked smug. "Izushima, Yukiko," a very small Japanese girl, went to Ravenclaw, and "Leeds, Jasper" was the first person Ginny saw go to Gryffindor. Glancing at the table, she noticed three other new Gryffindors, two girls and a boy. The girls were already whispering and giggling.

Finally McGonagall arrived at "Rumluck, Apple." Apple walked briskly forward, tucked her robes neatly under herself as she perched on the stool, and slid the hat over her head. The hat took a very long time with her -- and judging by the twitching of Apple's hands in her lap, something was irritating her no end.

The hat seemed to be stifling laughter when it finally shouted "GRYFFINDOR!" Ginny and Daphne looked at each other in surprise -- not Ravenclaw? Apple shot them a perplexed look as she walked to the leftmost table, where Fred and George were loudly cheering the newest addition to their house.

"Well, you'll have company, at least," whispered Daphne, before hurrying forward in response to her name.

Ginny crossed her fingers as Daphne put on the hat, hoping her new friend would be in Gryffindor and that she herself wouldn't end in Hufflepuff after all, though Hufflepuff was a fine house and she was sure Xanthe was perfectly nice when she wasn't moping.

But after only a few seconds the Sorting Hat cried, "SLYTHERIN!" and Daphne hurried over to the table on the far right of the hall, whose occupants had burst into loud applause.

Draco Malfoy smiled at her. Daphne smiled back.

Ginny stared. She couldn't understand it. How could Daphne be a Slytherin? Daphne was nice and funny and interesting. She understood about brothers. She thought the giant squid was cool. She wasn't a Slytherin.

But there she sat, grinning like a fool and introducing herself to her new housemates, to the whole lot of slime. She even leaned over to shake Draco Malfoy's hand and laughed at something he said. Ginny felt a hot rush of betrayal. How could Daphne do this to her? Didn't she know what Draco was?

Maybe she was a Slytherin, after all.

Ginny spent the rest of the Sorting in a daze of hurt, anger, and a nagging sense that she had been dreadfully stupid. She didn't hear Professor McGonagall call her name, and had to be jabbed in the side by one of the three other first years still waiting. Professor McGonagall was glaring at her and Ginny was sure she heard muffled snickers from the back of the hall.

Ginny stumbled forward, horribly aware that her entire face was tomato red and violently clashing with her hair. Sliding unsteadily onto the stool, she dropped the hat over her head, eager to shut out the sight of hundreds of people staring at her.

"Another Weasley," said a small voice in her ear. "There are a lot of you, aren't there."

Ginny felt her face flame anew.

The hat chuckled. "Oh dear, you are easily embarrassed. Interesting. Now let me see... intelligence, loyalty, determination -- you have quite a stubborn streak, haven't you? -- and a strong desire for others to like you. I think you'll do best--"

I'm going to Hufflepuff, aren't I? Ginny thought miserably. That was all right. Apple would stick with Daphne anyhow, and what did it matter that all her family was in Gryffindor, along with Harry, who'd never so much as noticed her except with pity and mild embarrassment, even after she'd stood up to Draco for him in Flourish and Blotts.

"Eh?" said the hat. "Oh my. Now there's something I hadn't noticed. You do bury that rather well. No, though you would do well in Hufflepuff, you're more of a Gryffindor than you think. And if you want it that badly, I have to agree. GRYFFINDOR!" It shouted the last word to the hall.

Ginny lifted the hat off, confused. Had it been going to place her in Hufflepuff? What had changed the hat's mind? Did it simply feel sorry for her?

She walked slowly to the Gryffindor table and sat across from the twins -- next to Hermione -- leaving several empty seats between herself and the other first years. The twins leaned across the table, grinning madly.

"Great job, Ginny!" said Fred.

"We thought you'd never make it here!" said George.

They seized her hands and shook them violently. Ginny sighed, letting them flop her arms around while she found their shoes under the table. She raised her feet -- carefully maintaining their positions -- and stomped as hard as she could.

"Ow!" the twins said.

"What'd you have to do that for?" asked George, wincing elaborately.

"We're crippled for life. Is that any way to treat your brothers?" said Fred.

Hermione seemed to be stifling giggles behind her napkin. Ginny smiled at her and said, "Boys are idiots, aren't they." Hermione nodded vehemently, trembling with suppressed laughter.

"Well, we can see where we're not wanted," said Fred, and the twins turned down the table to Lee Jordan.

"So what happens now?" Ginny asked Hermione.

"Oh, now that everyone's been Sorted" -- Ginny looked up in time to watch the last first year hurry off to Ravenclaw -- "Professor Dumbledore will say a few words and then we get to eat."

Ginny looked at the staff table. Dumbledore -- a tall, thin wizard with flowing silver hair and half-moon spectacles -- rose to his feet, spread his arms, and beamed delightedly at the students. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts!" he said. "I'm sure you're all as hungry as I am, so I shall keep my remarks brief: In my humble opinion, fried mushrooms are a wonderful addition to any meal.

"Thank you!"

Dumbledore resumed his seat to resounding applause. Ginny looked uncertainly at Hermione. "Er, is that usual?" she asked.

Hermione smiled reassuringly. "Actually, that was much more rational than what he said last year. That time, he said he wanted to say a few words, and he did, only they were things like 'blubber' and 'oddment.' It was very peculiar. But he's quite brilliant, really, and he saved Harry's life last year.

"Now, don't you want any supper?"

Ginny blinked. The table was now piled with food -- hundreds of different dishes, many of which she'd never seen before. She helped herself to a bowl of chicken soup, several slices of bread, and small helpings of at least ten other dishes. Mindful of Mum's instructions, she was careful to take several helpings of vegetables, though she kept them quite small, particularly the sprouts.

Ginny and Hermione ate in silence for several minutes. The twins were pointedly ignoring them after Ginny's attack on their feet, Hermione still seemed worried about Harry and Ron, and Ginny's head was far too full for conversation. She couldn't make herself stop thinking about Daphne and the Sorting Hat's strange comments. It was a terribly peculiar object, really -- and it had the nerve to say it had never yet been wrong. How could it judge people anyhow? She wasn't at all sure it was trustworthy.

As she thought of that, a question occurred to her. "Did the Sorting Hat really have a head-cold?" she asked, setting her spoon on her plate and turning to Hermione. "It didn't sound ill when it was talking to me."

"No," said Hermione. "Of course it didn't have a cold -- it's a hat, how could it? It hasn't anything to have a cold with."

Fred, forgetting he was ignoring them, leaned over and whispered conspiratorially, "It gets like that now and then -- fancies itself a poet."

"Percy said that his year, it introduced the Sorting with a bunch of haiku!" George added, snickering. "You know, 'A rose turns to sun -- As noble, clear-eyed warriors -- Turn to Gryffindor' -- and so on. I'll bet that threw the staff for a loop."

Hermione looked indignant. "The haiku is a perfectly legitimate form of poetic expression, and I think it's marvelous of the Hat to explore other lyrical forms, particularly those of other cultures. You could take lessons from it."

Ginny sighed and returned to her soup. Obviously the Sorting Hat wasn't above face-saving lies. It could have been lying for years about its skill at determining the correct house for each student. After all, people were complicated -- they didn't sort neatly into boxes.

She had a brief, odd picture of perfectly rectangular people stuffed into wooden boxes, floating around the hall. How would they eat or cast spells, trapped in those boxes? She wondered what Daphne would say if she asked her that.

Daphne. Daphne who was in Slytherin. Daphne, who, come to think of it, was prejudiced towards Hufflepuff, who had laughed at the poor people tripping over each other in the train corridor, and who hadn't done a thing to comfort Xanthe before the Sorting -- who had, in fact, made Xanthe feel worse.

Ginny felt she should have known. Pushing her soup aside, she attacked a slice of roast ham, cutting it into eighteen perfectly symmetrical pieces -- she discarded the rind into her half-empty bowl. She would be more careful whom she trusted in the future. She didn't need lots of friends anyhow. She had Tom.

She couldn't wait for the feast to be over.

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Partway through the feast, a tall, forbidding man with limp, dark hair walked up behind the Slytherins to the staff table and spoke to Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall -- both of whom shortly left the hall, looking grim.

"D'you think it's to do with Ron and Harry?" Ginny whispered to Hermione, suddenly unable to make herself eat.

"Oh, I hope not," said Hermione. "That was Professor Snape, and he looked almost happy, which can't be good." She bit her lip. She did that a lot, thought Ginny; it was a wonder she hadn't chewed clear through it by now.

Whispers spread through the hall, starting from the Slytherin table, quickly jumping to the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, and finally reaching the Gryffindors. The twins leaned back from excited conversation with a Hufflepuff girl and grinned at Ginny and Hermione.

"They flew the car!" said Fred.

"All the way from King's Cross," said George.

"And crashed it into the Whomping Willow!" they finished in chorus.

"The Slytherins say they were seen by Muggles," the Hufflepuff girl added, twisting around to face the Gryffindors. "I bet they've been expelled. That's the only reason for Snape to look happy -- oooh, that was scary -- I never want to see it again!" She shivered dramatically.

"Oh, honestly," Hermione snapped. "Only Dumbledore can expel them, and he wouldn't. I'm sure it's all a big fuss over nothing."

Ginny listened to the ensuing argument with half an ear, watching the doors nervously for any sign of Harry or her brother. Her incredibly stupid brother. Whatever they'd done, it had to have been his idea.

The professors reentered the hall together -- Dumbledore smiling pleasantly, Snape glowering at him, and Professor McGonagall looking ruffled. They seated themselves and proceeded to eat dessert, though Snape merely picked irritably at the custard tart Dumbledore had placed before him.

Rumors continued to spread, and by the end of dessert the general consensus was that the two boys probably hadn't been expelled -- Snape was too angry -- though judging by Professor McGonagall's expression, they were certainly in a lot of trouble. Theories ranged from detention for a year to several hundred points lost from Gryffindor before term had fairly started.

Ginny shrugged when the twins shared that rumor; Harry would win them back. He had last year.

Finally dessert was finished. Dumbledore stood again and within seconds the hall was quiet. "I have a few start-of-term notices they tell me I must give you," he said. "As always, first years should be aware that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. There are good reasons for this. Please do not attempt private research to confirm those reasons.

"Mr. Filch, the caretaker, wishes me to remind you that no magic should be used in the corridors between classes, nor should any banned items be brought into the school. Those wishing to scan the list of banned items may find it in Mr. Filch's office.

"Quidditch trials will be held the second week of term. Those interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch, the Flying instructor.

"I believe that covers everything of importance. Now, before we leave for our respective beds, let us sing the school song!" Despite the pained expressions of the staff -- and some distinctly audible groans from the students -- Dumbledore flicked his wand, shooting a long golden ribbon into the air where it twisted into somewhat nonsensical words. "Everyone pick a tune, and off we go!"

Caught completely by surprise, Ginny sang the first tune that came to mind -- "God Save the Queen" -- which didn't fit at all, and ran out long before she reached the end of the words. Furthermore, everyone had chosen different songs, and in the resulting din she found it nearly impossible to remember the melody at all. Beside her, Hermione was singing what sounded like "Loch Lomond," going noticeably shrill on the high notes. After a few false starts, Ginny gave up and finished the words all on one note, very quickly.

The twins, unsurprisingly, had picked a slow, quavering waltz that left them the last ones singing. Dumbledore conducted them to their conclusion and applauded vigorously. The students joined in less enthusiastically.

"Marvelous, simply marvelous," said Dumbledore, sighing happily. "And now to bed! Follow your housemates and think fondly of dessert."

Percy stood and called the Gryffindor first years to him; Ginny counted four boys and four girls -- five including herself. She hung back, not wanting to be associated with Percy. Apple shot Ginny a hurt look but made no effort to approach her as Percy led them on a torturous path through hidden doorways and up innumerable staircases until, at the end of one final corridor, they reached a portrait of an overweight woman in a vivid pink dress.

"Password?" the woman asked.

"Wattlebird," said Percy. "Remember that, all of you." The portrait swung forward, revealing a round hole in the wall. They scrambled through into a large round room full of tables and squashy armchairs. A fire crackled in the hearth, and a crowd of older students sat before it, talking. Most of Gryffindor house seemed to be waiting for Ron and Harry to appear and confirm or deny the wild rumors from the feast.

"You should get to bed immediately," said Percy, leading the way across the room. "Girls' dormitories are through this door, boys' through that one on the other side of the room -- just climb the stairs until you see 'First Years' written on a door. Your trunks and other luggage will be at the feet of your beds, though all owls have been taken to the Owlery."

Nobody moved.

"Well? Get on, then," said Percy, looking irritated.

"Er, we want to see Harry Potter," said a black-haired boy, who seemed to be partly Asian. "We want to know if it's true he flew a car to school."

"And crashed into a Whomping Willow!" added a small boy with a camera around his neck, almost bouncing with excitement.

"And got expelled, or lost us a thousand points!" said a blonde girl. "Because that's a bit of something, losing points before term starts." She grinned.

"Oh for Heaven's sake," said Percy, and Ginny winced, knowing a lecture was coming. "I assure you that contrary to popular opinion, Harry Potter isn't anything special -- nor is my brother Ronald. While it's true that my family owns a car that could, technically, fly, we don't fly it, as that's in direct violation of the laws against misuse of Muggle artifacts and leans dangerously close to violating the secrecy of the wizarding world.

"Now go to bed."

But at that moment the portrait hole swung open again and people surged forward to pull two boys through -- one tall and skinny with flaming red hair, and one short and skinny with messy black hair and large, round glasses concealing brilliant green eyes. Ron and Harry.

Chaos erupted. Everyone pushed forward to congratulate Harry and Ron on their arrival, and to ask them what exactly had happened; they looked tired, but too cheerful to have suffered an excessively harsh punishment. Ginny faded back to the doorway, watching.

Percy was struggling to make his way through the crowd, bursting to lecture Ron and Harry. Harry, however, noticed Percy and winced. Ginny smiled. Harry grabbed Ron and shoved through the crowd to the door leading to the boys' dormitories, finally escaping in peace.

Ginny slipped through the doorway and up a spiral staircase to the girls' dormitories. She passed three landings before reaching a door labeled "First Years," which she pushed open. The dormitory was a circular room, obviously part of a tower, with high, narrow windows and five four-poster beds hung with red velvet curtains.

Her trunk was at the foot of the bed farthest from the door, directly under a window. She wondered which way it faced -- she had no sense of direction within the castle anymore -- but she thought it might be nice to wake with the sunrise.

She opened the window and leaned out, enjoying the crisp air. Whatever happened with Apple, no matter how horrible Daphne might turn out to be, she thought she would be all right. She could depend on her brothers, and for any times they wouldn't be any help, she had Tom, after all.

With that thought, she began to unpack her things, wanting to get organized before she wrote to him.

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Ginny was putting her clothes away when the door opened behind her and her four roommates poured noisily in. She turned to study them. Apple she already knew, but she had no notion who the others might be, not having paid attention during the Sorting or talked with them at the feast.

"Hi," said the blonde girl who had wanted to know about losing points before term started. "We haven't been introduced yet, so we thought we'd all come up together. You're Ginevra Weasley, of course -- sister of Percy the prefect, Ron who flew a car into a Whomping Willow, and probably also those mad twins.

"I'm Susan Ward -- oldest of six children and first witch in the family. I thought I'd gone 'round the twist when I got my letter, but here I am. This is the best thing that's ever happened to me -- not that that's difficult. You don't get much when your parents are always busy changing nappies." She grinned.

"I'm Jia-li Chang," said the second girl. She was very pretty, with long, straight black hair and delicate hands. "I was born in China but my family came here during the rebuilding, when I was very young. We go back, sometimes, to visit my grandparents and cousins. I have a sister, Cho; she's in Ravenclaw. I think that's everything -- I hope we can be friends."

The third girl -- tall, solid, and brown-haired -- smiled briskly at Ginny and said, "I'm Guinevere Davies, call me Gwen. Only child, mad for Quidditch, and my mum plays Beater for the Holyhead Harpies. I can't believe your family has a flying car -- that's brilliant!"

"And I'm Apple Rumluck. You already know me," said Apple, giving Ginny a measuring look. "Why didn't you sit with us at the feast?"

Ginny felt flustered. "I don't know," she said. "I just sat with my brothers and Hermione. I wanted to talk to them. You all could've sat closer to the other Gryffindors -- you didn't have to huddle at the end of the table."

"True," said Susan. "But it was fun, and we got to meet Nearly Headless Nick -- I think he's the best house ghost. Anyway, now we all know each other a bit. So what d'you want to talk about?"

"I want to go to bed," Apple said firmly. "It's late and we'll want to be well rested tomorrow." She found her bed -- it was just to the left of the door -- and began searching through her trunk for a nightdress.

"Terribly dull, you are," said Susan. "I suppose it goes with the hair -- it's drained all the fun from your head and used it for crackle. Well, Jia-li? Gwen? Ginevra?"

"It's Ginny," said Ginny, "and no, I'm tired." She closed her trunk; the rest of her unpacking could wait for tomorrow.

"Aah, you're no fun," said Susan with an exaggerated grimace. "How can sleep compete with friends? I'm sure we're all going to be friends -- or at least we ought to get very good at pretending, as I'm not going to spend seven years in the same room with a bunch of bloody stuck-up cows."

Jia-li giggled and Gwen snorted. "Bet your mum doesn't let you talk like that," said Gwen. "Mine'd have me out pitching gnomes for weeks if she heard me say that."

"Shut it, you. My mum thinks I'm a sweet little angel. My dad, now, he gives lessons to my brothers -- what should he care if I listen in a bit?" Susan grinned. "Come on, let's get acquainted." She led Jia-li and Gwen over to her bed and they disappeared behind the curtains.

Ginny sat on her bed and picked the diary off her night table, preparing to draw the curtains and tell Tom about her day. But before she opened her ink bottle, Apple tiptoed over, careful not to attract the attention of their hidden roommates. She looked unearthly in her white nightdress, her dark hair cascading nearly to her knees.

"Ginny, I want to talk."

"Not now," Ginny hissed, shoving the diary under her pillow. "Tomorrow."

"No, now. I want to know why you wouldn't sit next to me at the feast. I thought we were getting to be friends, though I know you like Daphne better. I don't particularly mind that -- everyone likes Daphne better. But why did you ignore me?"

Ginny glared at her. "Why did you shut me out of your secrets with Daphne? Why did Daphne get Sorted into Slytherin? What am I supposed to think after that?"

Apple looked surprised. "What does Daphne have to do with this? Slytherin's a fine house -- our cousin Alexandria was in Slytherin and she's amazing -- and we weren't shutting you out of anything, at least not intentionally. We've just always done things together, only the two of us, so of course we're in the habit of keeping things between ourselves.

"But we liked you. And we thought you liked us." Apple folded her arms and stared challengingly at Ginny.

Ginny was silent. Apple tapped her foot.

"I'm sorry," Ginny said finally. "It's just -- my brothers -- I just don't like Slytherins. And then I saw Daphne smiling at Draco Malfoy and shaking his hand, and I couldn't believe it. Slytherin, maybe -- I guess they can't all be horrible -- but she smiled at Draco Malfoy.

"And you and she are planning something, and you wouldn't tell me about the dragon debacle, whatever that is, and I thought, obviously you're keeping secrets, since Daphne isn't what I thought she is. She couldn't be, to be in Slytherin and talk with Draco. And I couldn't think about it, so I couldn't look at you because then I'd think about it.

"Besides, I wanted to see my brothers. They're my family. And I wanted to know if they knew anything about Ron and Harry."

Apple digested this.

"I see," she said. "I don't necessarily agree, but I see. I don't know what you have against Slytherins, or Draco Malfoy, but Daphne's a good person. I can ask her if she wants to tell you about our plans, and the dragon debacle -- though I assure you it isn't terribly interesting -- but I'm not sure I'd still recommend it. But that's up to her to decide.

"Good night, Ginny. Sleep well." Apple ghosted back across the room to her bed and drew the curtains.

"Good night, Apple," Ginny whispered.

She waited a minute before she slowly drew the diary out from under her pillow and closed the bed curtains. She wanted to talk to Tom so badly she didn't know where to start. It had been such a confusing day -- so much had happened, she couldn't believe it had all taken only a few hours.

She held her quill poised over the page, thinking.

"Dear Tom," she wrote finally. "It's been a very strange day. It turns out Harry and Ron got to Hogwarts safely -- they came in my parents' flying car -- but they got into a lot of trouble. Also, I met two girls on the train, and they seemed very nice. But one of them was sorted into Slytherin, and she smiled and shook hands with Draco Malfoy, who's horrible. And now I don't know what to think. What do you think, Tom?"

She waited eagerly for her words to vanish and Tom to reply. He responded quickly, his writing almost sloppy with haste, as if he too had been anticipating this conversation.

"I'm glad your brother is safe, Ginevra, though I'm sorry he's in trouble. As for the other, would you tell me some more? It's hard to know what to think when I don't have much to go on."

Ginny flushed. Of course he needed to know more -- he hadn't been there with Daphne and Apple. He seemed so familiar already that she was surprised he hadn't already known everything.

"Sorry," she wrote. "Their names are Apple and Daphne Rumluck. They're cousins. Daphne seemed very nice and funny and friendly, and Apple was all right -- a bit uptight, maybe, but nice. But they were keeping secrets from me. And then Daphne was Sorted into Slytherin, even though all their family have been in Hufflepuff.

"I always thought people shouldn't trust Slytherins, that Slytherins were a nasty lot. That they were evil. That's what my brothers say, and my parents don't stop them. But I liked Daphne. So I thought, maybe some Slytherins can be all right, even though she'd been a bit cruel to a girl we met in the boats. After all, she didn't mean that. I think.

"Except then she smiled at Draco Malfoy and shook his hand. Draco is--" Ginny paused, trying to think how to put this. "Draco is a Malfoy. Mr. Malfoy was a Death Eater, one of You-Know-Who's followers, but he was pardoned and now he has a lot of influence with the Ministry. Draco's in Harry and Ron's year, and he's horrible to them, always trying to get them in trouble.

"This summer we ran into them at Flourish and Blotts in Diagon Alley, and Draco insulted Harry. Then Mr. Malfoy grabbed my books and insulted my dad and my family, until he started a fight. It was awful. I just knew when he looked at me he thought I was scum. I hate him. He's scum."

Ginny paused to shake her aching hand; she had pressed so hard on her quill that she'd left deep indentations on the page, though her words had long since sunk into the depths of the diary.

"That's why I don't like Draco Malfoy. And Daphne smiled at him. I don't know what to think about her after that, even though Apple told me just now that Daphne's a good person, and not all Slytherins are awful. But I think Apple doesn't like me anymore.

"I don't know what to think, Tom. Help me."

There was a brief pause. "May I have a moment to think, Ginevra?" asked Tom.

"Sure."

Ginny waited, brushing the feathery tip of her quill back and forth on the underside of her chin. Telling Tom had brought the evening back to her mind, after she'd managed to more or less shut it out. She didn't want to think about Daphne and Apple. She'd much rather just go to sleep and wake up to discover it had all been an unpleasant dream -- that both girls were in Gryffindor with her, Daphne had never said anything cruel to Xanthe, and Apple still liked her.

"I think," Tom wrote suddenly, "that you should keep an eye on Daphne. Your brothers are wrong about all Slytherins being evil -- the house would have been dissolved long ago, were that the case -- but many of them DO bear watching. I speak from experience; I was in Slytherin myself, and I saw many of my housemates devote themselves to causes that were... frowned upon by society, often deservedly so."

Tom was a Slytherin? How odd, Ginny thought. Well, it was true her brothers were far from infallible; hadn't she already decided that maybe some Slytherins could be all right? And Tom, unlike Daphne, was trustworthy. Her eyes returned to the page.

"I would also keep an eye on Apple," Tom wrote. "If she and her cousin are very close, they may lead each other in questionable directions. Slytherins aren't the only ones who can fall.

"Probably Apple is safe, and Daphne very likely is harmless, if a bit callous. But as they say, an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure -- be pleasant, but don't give away any of your secrets, particularly not to Daphne. I wouldn't want you to get hurt, Ginevra."

Ginny smiled. "Don't worry, Tom; I'll keep myself safe. Thanks for being honest with me, and for the advice -- I feel a lot better now. But it's late, and I need to go to sleep. I'll talk to you again in the morning."

"Goodnight, Ginevra."

"Goodnight, Tom."

Ginny closed the diary and slipped it under her pillow. It was funny, she thought, that she didn't mind Tom calling her Ginevra, though she normally hated her full name. She liked that he had a special name for her -- it was another secret, something that was only hers. Well, hers and Tom's, but somehow, sharing a secret with him felt almost like sharing it with herself. He was safe.

As she drifted to sleep, Ginny realized she'd completely forgotten to ask Tom about dragons.

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End of Chapter Two