Secrets

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CHAPTER 3: Overreactions

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Apple had been quite right, Ginny discovered the next morning: they did want to be well rested. Professor McGonagall handed out class schedules at breakfast to those who were lucky enough to find the Great Hall again, and -- after the hideous embarrassment of the Howler Mum sent to Ron, which made everyone stare at Ginny as well as her brother -- the first year Gryffindors hurried off to Charms. The girls were all in a group -- Susan had woken them at the crack of dawn and led an expedition in search of the hall -- but the boys hadn't been so organized. The four of them straggled in late, complaining loudly of moving staircases and a poltergeist.

"That would be Peeves. If possible, ignore his tricks; I'm afraid there's simply nothing to be done about him," said Professor Flitwick, who taught Charms. He was the tiniest man Ginny had ever seen, and had to stand on a stack of books to see over his desk and call the roll.

The first days of term were a blur of new classes and homework: star charts for Astronomy, essays on the theory of transfiguring one small inanimate object into another, and long reading assignments for History of Magic -- which was taught by Professor Binns, a deeply boring ghost; the only time he managed to get the class's attention was when he floated through the blackboard to enter his room. Ginny barely had time to write to Tom each evening. He accepted her apologies with good humor and assured her she'd settle into the work soon enough. She hoped he was right.

Friday morning they had their first Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Ginny was not looking forward to this at all, having acquired a very low opinion of Gilderoy Lockhart, the new professor, during the unfortunate incident in Flourish and Blotts. True, he was good-looking, but he knew it and played it up for all he was worth, which didn't speak well of him. Furthermore, she couldn't stand his books; there was some useful information scattered through them, but it was buried in self-promoting autobiography.

She suspected he was lying about a lot of his adventures.

Apple agreed with Ginny. "He's a smarmy, two-faced, idiotic git," she said as the girls waited outside the classroom Friday morning, "and I expect he'll be hopeless as a professor. He used to work at the Ministry, my dad says, but he was fired for incompetence. So I don't see how he could have done so much against the Dark Arts. Besides, he simply couldn't have had time. One person can't get around that much of the world that fast. It's not physically possible."

"So you say," said Susan. "I think he'll be brilliant -- haven't you read his books? You're just jealous that he knows more than you."

"He's awfully handsome," said Jia-li, giggling. "He's very brave, too. I bet he breaks the curse on the Defense Against the Dark Arts position -- he must know an awful lot about curses."

"Hmph," said Apple. "Time will tell.

Just then, Lockhart swept around a corner and beamed at the waiting Gryffindors. "Ah, first years! Ready and waiting for knowledge, are you? Come in, come in!" He made an extravagant gesture with his right arm, showing his flowing lime-green robes to great advantage. Ginny giggled. Apple rolled her eyes.

Lockhart waited until all nine students were seated, then cleared his throat loudly, stilling the boys' muttering. He walked to Susan's desk -- she had chosen a seat in the very front of the room -- and picked up her copy of Gadding with Ghouls to show the class. "Very good, very good," he said, smiling at her. His portrait on the book cover smiled as well, its teeth glinting.

"I hope you've all done as well as Miss--"

"Ward, Susan Ward," said Susan breathlessly.

"--as Miss Ward, and bought a complete set of my books. I thought we'd start the year with a quiz -- nothing hard, nothing to worry about -- just to check what you've learned from your summer reading." He set down the book and handed out test papers, laying them on desks with a flourish. "You have thirty minutes -- starting now!"

Ginny struggled to stifle her laughter as she read the questions. None of them had a single thing to do with the Dark Arts, not even indirectly through a discussion of Lockhart's adventures. Instead, they tested knowledge of Lockhart, a subject in which she had less than no interest. Still, in the interest of her marks... She began to fill in answers, skipping anything she didn't remember. Thank goodness Mum fancied the git, otherwise Ginny wouldn't have read the books at all.

After half an hour, Lockhart collected the papers and skimmed the results, clearly disappointed. "I see no one has read the books very thoroughly, not at all," he said. "Not a single one of you remembered my favorite holiday -- it's Valentine's Day, I say that very clearly in Holidays with Hags. You clearly need quite a lot of make up work. Fortunately, here I am!"

He smiled blindingly at the class and launched into a rendition of his capture of the Westbridge Troll, complete with sound-effects, voices, and a dramatic reenactment, using Jasper Leeds as the troll and Susan as the threatened witch. Ginny giggled quietly through the whole lesson, sharing amused glances with Apple, who seemed to be feeling more kindly toward her today.

After the lesson, the Gryffindors headed for lunch, talking loudly; they divided into two camps over Lockhart. Three of the boys -- Jasper Leeds, Danny Park, and Eugene Skelter -- thought Lockhart was a useless idiot. Ginny and Apple agreed, adding that he was smarmy and not nearly as good-looking as he thought he was.

Susan, Gwen, and Jia-li defended him vehemently, and the fourth boy, Colin Creevey, thought Lockhart was, as he said, "nearly as amazing as Harry Potter! Imagine, he's defeated all these monsters and Dark wizards and witches -- don't you wish you could've been there? I took a picture of him and Harry Potter together, and he said he'd sign it if I got it developed. D'you think he'll remember?"

Colin was an excitable twit, Ginny decided. He didn't even have the excuse of being dazzled by a crush -- at least, she didn't think he did. And what right did he have to be rushing about after Harry anyhow? Harry didn't want anyone hanging on to him.

She sat next to Apple at lunch. They didn't talk much, beyond simple things like "Please pass the potatoes," but Ginny felt Apple was definitely softening a bit. Perhaps they could be friends again. After all, just because she was keeping an eye on Apple didn't mean she couldn't talk with her.

That afternoon they had Double Herbology with the Hufflepuffs, and Ginny couldn't wait to get to the greenhouses. She'd always liked messing around with plants. Besides, she wanted to see Xanthe again; if Apple didn't soften enough, perhaps she could spend some time with Xanthe.

Professor Sprout met the class in the entrance hall and led them out to Greenhouse One. There were several greenhouses, she explained, to segregate plants by type; Greenhouse One contained common herbs, most of which weren't specifically magical and were often used by Muggles as well as wizards.

"Now, you may think herbs are boring," said Sprout, attempting to look stern. "I'm sure you'd all rather poke at a Venomous Tentacula, but you aren't ready for the more spectacular plants. Furthermore, there's more to herbs than meets the eye, and they aren't always easy to care for.

"Today we'll learn about mint. It's often used in healing potions, particularly those that treat psychological problems. We'll discuss the specific uses of mint, and then you'll learn to recognize, tend, and harvest the plant. Finally, you'll transplant these flats of mint into those troughs in the corner."

Ginny scribbled notes on the uses of mint, but as soon as Sprout reached the care of the plant, she ceased to pay attention. She already knew this from helping Mum tend the garden at the Burrow; she'd been up to her elbows in herbs since she was four years old, when Mum had discovered her carefully uprooting dandelions and replanting them in rows by the pond.

"Let's turn that idea to something a little more useful," Mum had said, and though Ginny still thought flowers were more fun than herbs or vegetables, she had to admit that she loved gardening for its own sake. It was something practical -- something useful -- unlike swishing a stick through the air while calling out incomprehensible words. She couldn't wait to get her share of the mint and run her hands through the soil in the troughs.

Sprout clapped her hands suddenly and said, "There now, that's all about mint. For more details, please see pages 24-25 of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi. Now watch carefully while I demonstrate the proper technique for transplanting the mint." Ginny was impressed by Sprout's speed, and by how few roots she damaged while lifting the plant from the flat. Sprout certainly knew what she was doing; perhaps she'd be willing to let Ginny help out with some herbs after classes. It would be lovely to spend time gardening again.

"Everyone pair up now, and begin transplanting," said Sprout. The boys, both Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, paired up immediately. Susan grabbed Jia-li while Apple turned to Gwen, leaving Ginny at loose ends. Fortunately, the Hufflepuff girls were still discussing pairings amongst themselves.

Ginny walked over and cleared her throat. "Excuse me," she said, "but I don't have a partner. Would one of you be willing to work with me?"

The girls glanced up. "Oh, Ginny!" said Xanthe, who looked much happier today than at the Sorting. "Sure, I'll work with you." She hurried over to the flats.

"You do know what we're doing, right?" she asked, selecting a trough and shoving a sack of dirt into Ginny's arms. "Because I don't. I've never been any good with plants -- I'm sure I'll kill them, and then I'll get bad marks and my mum will be terribly disappointed and say I've dishonored the family name, and it'll be just awful."

Ginny blinked at the rush of words. She'd had no idea Xanthe could be this talkative. "Yes, I know what we're doing," she said. "Plants are easy, really -- just watch me and do what I do. And mind you don't break the roots; that's very important."

"Okay," said Xanthe. "I'm glad one of us knows what she's doing." She smiled suddenly. "It's good to see you again. I want to thank you for being so nice before I was Sorted. I was in a right state that night, and I'm sorry you had to put up with me. You were right, you know -- Hufflepuff's a wonderful house, and I'm glad I got in."

Ginny smiled back. "Any time. And you weren't horrible at all, just a little nervous. Now, look here." She carefully popped the mint out of the flat -- it was cheap plastic, probably purchased from a Muggle nursery -- and placed it onto the thin layer of soil in the trough Xanthe had appropriated. After she filled in the space with a bit more dirt, she tamped it down slightly and repeated the process with the next plant. "You want to get them all in before you do much careful work with the soil, or before you water them -- otherwise you'll only have to keep doing it over, and you'll might end up over watering them. Now you try."

Xanthe fumbled clumsily with a flat and Ginny reached over to help her. They passed most of the class talking about their first days at Hogwarts. Occasionally Ginny pointed out mistakes the others made, partly to make Xanthe feel better, and partly to teach by negative example. As she became less nervous about killing the mint, Xanthe complained at length about History of Magic and Potions, waving her trowel for emphasis.

"I don't understand it," she said. "History is absolutely fascinating, Binns is teaching us about some of the bloodiest battles the wizarding world ever faced, and I couldn't stay awake through his lecture. It shouldn't be possible to make it that boring.

"And Potions! Snape is horrible. He hates everyone, but he hates Hufflepuffs more than Ravenclaws. We have Double Potions with the Ravenclaws, you know. He says that they at least display a modicum of intelligence, while all the hard work in the world doesn't do a bit of good if one works in the wrong direction.

"He's so cruel all the time, and he takes away points for the smallest things. I hate him. I'm smart enough to be in Ravenclaw -- the Sorting Hat said so -- so I don't see why he thinks I'm stupid just because I'm in Hufflepuff. Just because I like people too, and I don't think musty old books are the be all and end all of the world. Feh. I hate Snape." Xanthe stabbed her trowel into the sack, dumping soil carelessly over the newly planted mint. "I hate him," she repeated.

Ginny winced for the mint but made sympathetic noises. "I know," she said. "Binns is unbelievable -- and I've heard all about Snape for years from my brothers. He's even worse to Gryffindors, especially since we have Potions with the Slytherins. I have it on Monday and I don't want to go."

"Oh, that's right," said Xanthe. "Yes, I suppose he would favor the Slytherins, considering he favors the Ravenclaws. He likes his students cold. I suppose I can see why you don't like Slytherins -- we have Astronomy with them, you know, and they were just horrible to Professor Sinistra last night. She did them one better, though, and gave them all detention after class, so they were up until three in the morning."

Ginny laughed. "Good for Sinistra."

Xanthe smiled. "Yes, I like her. She knows what she's talking about -- nothing fuzzy in her classes. And charting star paths is fun. It reminds me of maths. I miss not having any maths here."

Ginny tamped down the soil around the last of their mint plants, and stood to fetch a watering can. "I wish I knew a watering charm. I've seen my mum use one on our garden, but I can't remember the words and I don't know how it works, anyhow."

"Oh, just wait a bit and we'll learn it, I'm sure," said Xanthe. She watched as Ginny soaked the trough, setting the soil firmly in place around the mint. "Thanks so much for partnering me -- you're really good at this, you know. You have a touch."

Ginny flushed, pleased and embarrassed. "It's nothing really," she said. "I just help my mum with the garden, so of course I know a lot. And plants are easy to get on with -- they're friendly."

"So you say," said Xanthe, looking suspiciously around the greenhouse. "Some of those herbs look rather disturbing, or as if they'd die if you sneezed at them. And I don't even want to know about anything called a Venomous Tentacula."

Ginny was about to explain that Venomous Tentaculae were not only dead cool but actually quite harmless if you took a few simple precautions -- but before she could speak, Sprout clapped her hands for attention and said, "Very good, all of you! A marvelous first class. Everyone over to the fountain to wash up and then back to the castle. I'll see you again Tuesday morning."

Ginny put the pot, trowels, and empty flats away and washed her hands, picking dirt from under her fingernails. "Do you think we could meet tomorrow, to talk a bit, and maybe to study?" she asked Xanthe as they walked out of the greenhouse. "I could help you with Herbology and you could explain Astronomy to me."

"Hmmm. Maybe," said Xanthe. "I have to check with my friends." She stuck her head around the corner to look for the other Hufflepuff girls when one of them rushed up and grabbed her arm.

"Xanthe, come on," she said. "We're off to explore the grounds, and then we have to get back to the common room. Hurry up!" She noticed Ginny and nodded at her. "Caroline Addo, nice to meet you -- sorry, but we have to go now. House stuff."

Xanthe shrugged at Ginny as Caroline dragged her away. "Sorry! Maybe next week?" she called. "See you Tuesday morning."

"Okay," said Ginny, watching the two girls disappear behind the greenhouses. The other Gryffindors were already halfway back to the castle, walking in a tight group. Ginny sighed and walked slowly after them.

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Ginny had intended to catch up with the other first years, but she wasn't paying much attention to her speed and soon lost them in the maze of corridors and staircases. She poked around through some nearby rooms -- which were either empty, filled with peculiar objects, or used to store spare furniture -- before giving it up as a bad job and going back outside. Maybe Harry was out there, enjoying the sunshine.

Small knots of students decorated the castle lawns, but Ginny didn't see anyone she knew. It was a beautiful day, though, and she thought she might as well look around the grounds. The Quidditch pitch, she thought, was behind the castle, but she didn't much care about that; instead, she decided to explore down the slope leading to the lake.

Ginny picked her way down the hillside path, aiming for the water, until she passed a strange, round cottage surrounded by dead animals, a chicken yard, and a patch of enormous pumpkins. Curious, she walked over to poke at the pumpkins. "I wonder how they got so big?" she muttered. Mum had never had much luck with squash or gourds, and she'd appreciate it if Ginny could give her some tips.

"'Lo there," a deep voice boomed from behind her. Ginny whirled, clutching her bag, and then mentally smacked herself for her nerves. It was only Hagrid.

"Hi," she said. "Er, you don't know me, but I'm Ron Weasley's sister, Ginny. I was just looking at your pumpkins -- they're very big."

"Yeh, they are," said Hagrid, beaming at his garden. "Jus' between you an' me, I've bin givin' them a bit o' encouragement." He winked at her.

"Really? Mum's no good with pumpkins -- could you tell me what spell you're using? And what fertilizer? She'd be really interested," said Ginny, smiling back. It was hard not to smile at Hagrid; he reminded her of a shabby, overgrown teddy-bear.

"Mrs. Weasley, int'rested in my pumpkins?" asked Hagrid. "Well now, tha's somethin'. Jus' come sit a minute an' I'll write up what I do." He lumbered off into his cottage, holding the door open for Ginny to follow. "Don' mind Fang, he's harmless," he added as the door swung shut behind her.

Fang turned out to be a giant dog, who, aside from the way his greeting knocked Ginny to the floor, really was as softhearted as Hagrid said. Ginny flopped into a seat at the rough wooden table and scratched behind Fang's ears while Hagrid hunted up a quill and a scrap of parchment.

"So yer Ron's sister," he said as he sat down with his supplies. "Yeh'll know Harry, righ'?"

Ginny blushed. "He stayed with us this summer -- after Ron and the twins kidnapped him. The Dursleys were starving him, and they put bars on his window! It must've been awful."

Hagrid grinned. "Worried about Harry, eh? Aha. Yeh like him."

"No!" Ginny looked aside from Hagrid's knowing glance. "Er, maybe. Don't tell him!"

"Don' worry," said Hagrid. "I gotta lot o' practice keepin' secrets. Yeh jus' try ter be his friend -- Harry's a good friend." He set down his quill with an air of accomplishment and handed Ginny a carefully printed list of instructions for growing pumpkins. "Tha's fer yer mum. Yeh run along now, Ginny."

Ginny smiled shyly, gave Fang a parting scratch around his collar, and slipped out the door. She glanced downhill, debating whether to still explore the lake. No, she thought, it was getting late and the wind was picking up. Slowly, she made her way to Gryffindor tower.

The common room was relatively empty -- most students were still outside -- but Harry, Ron, and Hermione were at a table by the fire. Hermione was drilling the boys on the theory of levitating charms, "which is particularly important for you to pay attention to, Ron," she said, as Ginny passed behind them, "since you made such a mess out of class today. Imagine, giving poor Professor Flitwick boils!"

Ginny watched Harry as she crossed the room, trying to be subtle about it. She didn't want him to think she was like Colin, asking for signed photographs. The idea made her cringe.

A photograph of Harry would be a marvelous thing to have, though. She could keep it by her bed, or perhaps under her pillow. No, she would save it between the pages of Tom's diary -- her best friend and Harry together.

But she wasn't going to ask for a photograph. Ever.

Ginny sank into an armchair in the corner, curling her legs up against her chest and resting her head at the joint of the chair arm and back. Hermione had apparently given up on Harry and Ron and was waving her arms in exasperation, her voice rising and falling on a shrill note. Harry's face was fixed in a blank expression, while Ron was signally failing to hide both annoyance and laughter. He succeeded only in contorting his face.

Finally Harry sighed and said something to Hermione -- Ginny couldn't catch his words -- and she subsided, shooting Ron a deadly look. Ron grinned unrepentantly and Hermione sniffed but gave him a small smile in return. The trio settled down for a peaceful conversation, their voices now too low to carry into Ginny's corner.

Ginny leaned casually against the arm of her chair, shaking her hair over her face and peering through it. Those three were such a strange group. She supposed she could see why Harry and Ron were friends -- they were both boys, mad for Quidditch, and not terribly serious about classes or rules. Hermione was the odd person out in many ways. Except she wasn't, of course -- she'd been just as much a part of their adventures last year, and the boys showed no signs of abandoning her when she lectured them; they merely complained and humored her.

How did Hermione manage it? There was nothing to hold the friendship together, on the face of it, and yet clearly Harry and Ron were her friends -- better friends than Ginny had ever had, even counting Sarah Peasegood who'd moved to Italy two years ago.

Perhaps Harry made the difference. It certainly couldn't be Ron -- Ginny snorted at the thought of her brother becoming friends with anyone like Hermione without strong outside influence. Yes, Harry must be the key. He'd been the one who remembered that Hermione was in the bathroom, after all, and had insisted that she had to be warned about the troll -- whereas Ron was the one who'd made her run off and cry in the first place.

That, Ginny felt, summed up the difference between Harry and her brother -- between Harry and any boy she'd known, actually. Harry was a good person. He was a hero. She flushed at the thought, imagining his reaction if she ever told him. Oh God, he would be mortified. Harry didn't think he was anything special. And in many ways, he was right...

Except he was also very wrong. He was special, not just because he was the Boy Who Lived, but because he was Harry. He was funny and sweet and cute, and she knew, just from seeing him -- hearing him talk -- spending time around him -- that he would always do what was right. Harry projected a sense that nothing was impossible, that no darkness was so terrible it couldn't be cleared by a new morning, that somehow he would save not just her, but anyone, from anything that threatened.

Ginny wished she could explain that to him.

Suddenly Hermione jumped up from the table and grabbed Harry's hand, yanking him upright. "Come on," she said, "we have to write those essays for Professor Binns and you won't want them hanging over your heads all weekend, not with the weather so good." Ron groaned, but he hauled himself out of the chair and followed his friends out through the portrait hole.

Ginny watched as the portrait swung shut behind the trio. Now what was she supposed to do? The common room was nearly empty, the other first years were God knows where, and none of her brothers were around to take her mind off things. She desperately wanted to talk to someone.

Oh.

She felt like smacking herself. She could talk to Tom, of course. It was only that she'd left the diary under her pillow and had forgotten about it during Herbology. Perhaps she could start carrying it with her other books -- she could write between classes, or in History of Magic, where she wouldn't be missing anything except extra sleep.

Ginny rushed up the stairs and leapt onto her bed, carelessly dropping her bag to the floor. Tom's diary almost sprang into her hand, and she dipped the quill she kept beside the bed into her new emerald ink. She'd traded several bottles of scarlet ink to Susan in return for the emerald -- she liked the color. It reminded her of Harry's eyes, though of course it was too dull to be a perfect match. Harry's eyes were so green they wouldn't stick in her memory no matter how hard she tried to memorize the shade -- they always startled her with their brilliance when she saw them.

But enough of Harry's eyes.

"Dear Tom," Ginny wrote, "it's been an interesting day. We had Defense Against the Dark Arts this morning, and Professor Lockhart is a brainless, oily git. Apple agrees with me, but Susan, Gwen, and Jia-li are in love with him -- they think he's handsome.

"After lunch was Herbology, which is going to be easy. I know all about herbs from helping my mum with the garden. I was partnered with Xanthe Delaflor -- she's a Hufflepuff, I met her before the Sorting -- and she was very nice. So I thought I might finally have a friend besides you, but when I asked to meet her this weekend, another Hufflepuff pulled her away, and she said maybe we could try next week.

"And I met Hagrid, the groundskeeper, which was interesting. He has chickens, and he grows pumpkins, and he's nice, but he figured out that I -- that I like someone, and that's embarrassing. Ron says he's nice but a little strange sometimes, and he doesn't understand about dangerous animals -- he tried to raise a baby dragon last year.

"What I was really wondering, though, is how to make friends. Do you know how to do that, Tom? I never had to, really, since I had six brothers, and I knew Sarah Peasegood since forever. Her mum used to leave her with us for the afternoons when she went off to work. But I don't have any close friends here. Susan, Gwen, and Jia-li are friends; Apple doesn't seem to need any; Colin's a twit; and the boys think girls are useless except maybe for Susan. And they all left Herbology without me and vanished.

"I'm lonely, Tom."

Ginny tapped the feathery quill tip against her teeth, waiting for Tom's response -- it was only fair to leave him a minute or two to gather his thoughts, since she didn't give him a word edgewise while she was writing.

"Well, first, I hope Professor Lockhart isn't as incompetent as you say," wrote Tom. "If he is, would you like my help with some real Dark Arts lessons?" He paused, evidently waiting for an answer.

"Yes, thanks!" Ginny scribbled, and resumed tapping her quill, sprawled comfortably on her stomach with her feet in the air.

"Good. Second, I'm glad you'll have an easy time with Herbology. It was never one of my good subjects, and I admire your talent.

"Third, I'm not exactly sure what you mean by 'making friends.' You're a wonderful person, Ginevra," -- Ginny blushed -- "and I can't see why anyone wouldn't want to have you as a friend. I suggest you watch them for a while, see what they like to do and talk about, and use that to start new conversations. Don't pin your hopes on Xanthe, though -- inter-house relationships are often... disappointing."

Tom's writing darkened on the last word, Ginny noticed. Had he had a bad friendship while he was at Hogwarts?

"Did you have a friend from another house who ignored you?" she wrote.

"Not exactly," responded Tom, his writing slow and careful. "There was a girl, Rosalind Winterbourne, in Ravenclaw, my year. I admired her, but she considered me -- a penniless halfblood orphan -- to be beneath her. The Winterbournes are -- or were -- a proud family, you see, and Rose was no exception. She did finally deign to notice me in our fifth year, but I later learned she had no real interest in me -- other than making a Ravenclaw sixth year jealous."

Tom seemed to sigh, though Ginny had no idea how he managed to express that through the pages of the diary. "I'm sure Xanthe wouldn't do anything so cruel to you, but you should realize she'll put her Hufflepuff friends above you, simply because she sees them more often."

Poor Tom! Ginny thought. It was so romantic that he'd loved his Rose for so long, only to be crushed. It was like one of those old Muggle plays Dad kept around the house -- the ones enchanted to read themselves aloud, all full of poetry and elegant words. She sighed. Still, Tom had lived through his troubles, and he had a good point about Xanthe and the other Hufflepuffs.

"Thanks, Tom. I'll still try to be Xanthe's friend, but I won't expect too much from her," she wrote. "I guess I'll go downstairs now and see if the other first years are back yet. Until tonight."

"Until tonight, Ginevra."

Ginny slipped the diary back under her pillow, smiling to herself. Perhaps, just perhaps, she might tell Tom how she felt about Harry. After all, he knew how it felt to be ignored by someone he liked -- though Harry was nothing like that horrible Rose.

She decided to wait a bit before telling him, though. Lost love notwithstanding, Tom was still a boy -- and besides, her feelings for Harry were private. She still hadn't forgiven Ron for telling Harry about them.

Ginny slipped down the stairs and peered into the common room. The first years had returned and had split into groups near the fire. Gwen and Jia-li were whispering about something, Apple was reading, Colin was tinkering with his camera, and Susan was telling the boys an off-color joke she'd learned from her father.

Ginny watched Apple for a few seconds but decided against approaching her; she seemed to be absorbed in her book. Gwen and Jia-li didn't look as if they'd welcome an interruption and Colin -- as she'd told Tom -- was a twit, so Ginny walked towards Susan and the boys.

"Hey," she said. "Mind if I join you?"

"Ginny!" cried Susan. "We looked for the kitchens but we got lost, so we went exploring down by the Quidditch pitch, and we missed you. Where on earth have you been?"

Ginny shrugged. "Nowhere interesting. What are you doing now?"

"Telling jokes," said Jasper.

"Slightly inappropriate jokes," clarified Eugene. "Are you sure you don't want to go talk to the other girls?" Jasper and Danny snickered.

Ginny drew herself up and put on a hurt expression. "I have six older brothers, thank you very much. I think I can take a few jokes. I even bet I know some you don't."

"Bet you a Sickle you don't," said Susan.

Ginny grinned. This was going to be easy. "You're on," she said, and settled down to listen to the remainder of Susan's story. When she closed her eyes, she almost felt she was home again, laughing with her brothers in the garden as the smell of Mum's cooking drifted from the kitchen.

Thanks, Tom, she thought. You were right.

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The weekend was largely uneventful -- the only happening of note was the development of firm groups among the first years. Gwen and Jia-li paired off (Ginny was at a loss to say what they had in common); Susan hung out with Jasper, Eugene, and Danny; and Apple adopted Colin as a project. Ginny drifted around the edges, mostly spending time with Susan and the boys, but occasionally joining Gwen and Jia-li for gossip. She avoided Apple whenever the other girl was with Colin, which was most of the time. Apple seemed to take this as an insult and stopped talking to Ginny beyond the bare minimum necessary to keep Susan off their throats.

Monday morning the Gryffindors set off in search of the dungeons and their Double Potions class with the Slytherins. Susan had roped the boys into coming down to breakfast with the girls, so all nine of them walked down staircases and through dank corridors together, trying to make sense of the garbled instructions Ginny had gotten Ron to write out. In retrospect, Ginny thought, she should have asked Hermione or Percy; they'd have spent much less time making wrong turns and getting caught on moving stairs.

"Your brother's a bloody idiot, you know," said Susan, after a third staircase twisted around and deposited them on the wrong side of the stairwell. "And his handwriting's impossible. We're going to be so late."

"Sorry," said Ginny. "Didn't anyone else think to ask directions? I'm not the only one who has family here."

Jia-li and Eugene had the grace to look embarrassed.

"Hey, I think the staircase was actually supposed to move," said Jasper, peering at the crumpled parchment. "We're on the south side of the castle, and if your brother's right, the Potions dungeon should be down this corridor, fifth door on the left."

"Oh thank goodness," said Susan, hoisting her cauldron and charging down the dimly lit passage. "Come on, we're late!"

The others followed more slowly, unwilling to believe they might finally have interpreted the directions correctly. But the fifth door on the left was indeed the Potions dungeon, already half-filled with the first year Slytherins, many of whom shot the tired Gryffindors superior looks as they filed into the room. Daphne, sitting with a thin-faced girl, waved at Apple, who smiled back.

Ginny quickly looked away from Daphne, dumped her bag and cauldron on the nearest desk, and sank onto the hard wooden chair, dropping her head onto her arms. She ached all over: from getting up early, from walking miles through the blasted castle, and from hauling a cauldron full of Potions supplies such a long way.

This was going to be a very bad day. She just knew it.

The door slammed open and Snape strode in, robes flapping like hooked bat wings. The room fell instantly silent as he turned and glared at the students, his black eyes cold and glittering. "I am astonished," he said. "No one appears to be late." His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, but it carried clearly through the room and woke harsh echoes from the stone walls.

Susan flinched slightly and mouthed, "Thank God." Ginny agreed. She never wanted to be late to Potions.

Snape called the roll, pausing after each name to scrutinize its owner; Ginny squirmed under his measuring gaze. "So," he said, setting the parchment aside, "we begin. You are here to learn the exact and painstaking art of potion-making. I am here to teach you, if that should prove possible. As this is a precise science, and involves little imbecilic wand-waving, most of you will hardly consider it magic. I doubt any of you will truly understand the subtle beauty of the simmering cauldron, veiled in shimmering fumes -- or the delicate power of liquids that insinuate themselves into the very blood, weaving a network of spells throughout the body and mind, perhaps affecting the very soul..."

Snape paused, his black gaze sweeping over the students, daring them to twitch or challenge his words. "I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death -- if you aren't as big a bunch of lackwits as I usually have to teach," he finished.

Silence reigned. Ginny prayed she wouldn't be a lackwit; she had a deep feeling that Snape was already prejudiced against her -- not only because she was a Gryffindor and a Weasley, but because Ron was Harry's friend. Besides, she wanted to excel at Potions. Snape had made a good point about the wand-waving business, which she agreed with completely -- if Potions was anything as practical as Herbology, she shouldn't have too hard a time. Or so she hoped.

"I have decided, this year, to assign partners," said Snape suddenly, breaking into Ginny's thoughts, "as the results of my previous classes, where I allowed students to work with their friends, have been... disappointing. Pairings are subject to change depending on your results."

He picked up the roll again and began calling names. The Slytherins he placed quickly, pairing boys with boys and girls with girls -- Daphne stayed with the thin-faced girl, but one girl was left without a partner. Snape moved on to the Gryffindors, seating Colin with Jasper, Eugene with Danny, Jia-li with Gwen, Apple with Susan, and Ginny with the remaining Slytherin girl.

Ginny gathered her books and supplies and walked heavily to her assigned desk, which was unfortunately right in front of Daphne and the thin-faced girl. Ignoring her new partner, she dumped her bag on the floor, unloaded her supplies, and set them in organized rows on the desk. Then she pulled out several sheets of parchment, a quill, and one of her new bottles of emerald ink.

"Hey," said the Slytherin girl, leaning over and covering Ginny's parchment with her sleeve. "I'm talking to you. What's your name?"

Ginny glared irritably at the girl, who had a heart-shaped face, blue eyes, and wavy honey-blond hair; Ginny detested her on sight. "Ginny Weasley," she said. "And you are...?"

"Electra Summers. Shove over, you're taking up my side of the desk." The blond girl thumped her scales onto the desk, pushing Ginny's carefully ordered ingredients into a jumble. "Ooops," she said breezily, "guess you'll have to rearrange." The thin-faced girl giggled from the desk behind, and Ginny caught a smothered snort from Daphne.

Stupid cow. Ginny picked through her disarrayed ingredients and began to reorder them in tighter rows. Before she finished, however, Snape cleared his throat.

"You have had more than enough time to situate yourselves," he said. "I will instruct you on the Fevrous Potion, a common remedy for fever and sweats. You will take notes, prepare the potion, and write a three foot essay for next Monday on fever-reducing potions, their common ingredients, and what makes them effective."

Ginny took meticulous notes, scratching away as fast as possible to keep up with Snape -- he apparently disdained written lecture guides and expected his students to discern vital brewing instructions from asides and background information with no visual cues. Beside her, Electra lazily noted a few directions, many of which were nearly irrelevant. Ginny fumed. Obviously Snape had given his house prior instruction on the Fevrous Potion -- how like a Slytherin.

"You should have all necessary ingredients except the salamander intestines," said Snape finally, "which you will measure from the jar on my desk, under supervision. Do not allow the oil to drain before you add the intestines to the potion, as they are explosive in water." He paused, glaring at the Gryffindors and favoring the Slytherins with a milder though equally penetrating gaze.

"Begin."

Electra turned to Ginny. "Right, then. You get the ingredients and prepare them; I'll keep an eye on the cauldron and tell you what to do next. Get to it."

Ginny clenched her hands under the desk. "No," she said. "First we review the ingredients, their preparation, and the order in which they should be added, and then we each prepare some of them, to save time. I'll get the salamander intestines when we need them."

Electra sniffed. "Not on your life, Weasley. I'm not touching any of that rubbish. Start chopping." She sat back on her chair, lounging against the desk, and waved a languid hand at Ginny. "Go on, what are you waiting for? Time flies, Weasley."

"You stinking cow," Ginny hissed, stepping forward. "I am not doing all the work while you sit back and--"

"Ginny," said a familiar voice from behind her.

Ginny spun. "What now?"

Daphne smiled and held out her hands. "Hey, give it a rest," she said quietly, motioning at Electra and jerking her head towards the front of the room. "You don't want Snape to hear you and come over here. He's in a bit of a mood today -- then again, he usually is. Anyway, don't push it. Just ignore Electra -- she's an utter snob -- and let me and Ruth help you out a little."

"Oh? And what do you get out of it?" said Ginny, keeping her voice low and ignoring Electra's haughty stare. "You get to ruin my potion and laugh at me with Electra, like you did when she knocked over my supplies? No thanks."

Daphne looked upset. "Look, I'm sorry about Electra," she said. "She's a pain, but really, it's best to ignore her. Just let her stir the cauldron and you make sure the ingredients go in properly. And I'm sorry about laughing, but you have to admit it was funny, especially your expression. Anyway, I thought we were friends? Friends help each other out."

Ginny glared at her. "It was not funny. Friends don't laugh at friends when they're being insulted, Slytherin."

"Hey!" said Daphne. "Don't tell me you buy into all that rubbish about Slytherins being evil. I thought you were smarter than that."

Ginny took a deep breath. Think of Tom, she told herself, think of Tom. "Of course all Slytherins aren't evil," she said scathingly. "You'd have to be daft to think so." She paused for maximum effect, watching Daphne's face cloud in confusion. "But that doesn't mean I have to trust you, you back-stabbing liar!"

Daphne drew in a shocked breath. "You utter--"

"Daphne, shut it!" the thin-faced girl said suddenly, grabbing Daphne's shoulder. "She's not worth it -- just another holier-than-thou Gryffindor. Come on, Snape's coming this way and we're wasting time."

Daphne glared at Ginny but let her breath out. "Right, Ruth," she said to the thin-faced girl. "I'll just let Electra take care of Weasley here." She turned and sat down next to Ruth, and began viciously slicing willow bark into thin strips.

Ginny seethed at the implication that she was at fault. None of this was her fault; it was all Daphne's. She deserved worse. Ginny reached over and brushed Daphne's sliced bark onto the floor with her sleeve. "Ooops," she said, "guess you'll have to start over." Take that, Daphne Rumluck, she thought -- that's for taking me in on the train. That's for insulting Xanthe, for laughing at me behind my back, and for making sure Apple wouldn't be my friend.

Daphne glared -- her knife hand jerked involuntarily forward -- but Ruth seized her wrist and muttered into her ear. Slowly Daphne lowered her hand and grinned nastily at Ginny. "I think I will, Weasley," she said. "I do believe I will."

By the time Snape reached the back of the classroom, Ginny had made a good start on preparing various ingredients and had added the first set to boil. She'd have preferred to have more ingredients ready before starting the potion, but she had to make time to compensate for Electra and for her argument with Daphne.

"Your technique is reasonable, Miss Weasley," said Snape, watching her with cold black eyes. "However, you should have had the willow bark sliced before you added the beetle eyes. Miss Summers, why did you not correct her?"

"I'm sorry, Professor Snape," said Electra, pretending to study Ginny's carefully-written recipe for the potion. "I did warn her, but she wouldn't listen."

"I see," said Snape. "Pay more attention to Miss Summers in future, Miss Weasley." He swept to Daphne's desk, leaving Ginny to fume in silence.

She glared at Electra, who smiled and leaned comfortably against the desk. "Tough luck for you, Weasley," she said. "Get on with it, you're wasting time."

Ginny rushed the rest of the process as much as she thought safe, and was nearly finished when something arced over her shoulder and fell into her cauldron with a hissing splash. Oh God, she thought, fishing through the potion for the offending whatever-it-was, please don't let anything go wrong...

The potion exploded.

Thick, syrupy liquid splattered over the nearby desks, drenching people and bleaching their robes to a bilious green. Danny and Eugene stumbled backward with startled cries and Electra shrieked into Ginny's ear, nearly deafening her. Over Electra's piercing scream, Ginny dimly heard laughter from somewhere. It had to be Daphne.

Snape's voice rose over the pandemonium. "Silence!" he bellowed. "Return to your seats until I find out what happened." Nobody moved. "Detention to anyone not in his or her seat in five seconds."

As people rushed back to their seats, Snape strode towards Ginny and Electra. Ginny sat frozen; Electra had collapsed into her chair, gasping for breath. She was going to hyperventilate in a minute if she didn't calm down, Ginny noted absently, most of her attention fixed on Snape.

"What happened here, Miss Weasley?" demanded Snape. "Had you gone deaf when I said the oil was not to be drained from the salamander intestines? Without an antidote, everyone splashed by your potion will have a nasty case of night sweats for several days."

"But it wasn't me!" protested Ginny. "I didn't put them in -- someone threw them -- it was Daphne, Professor--"

"Silence!" said Snape. "Miss Weasley, I will thank you not to lie in my class. You are obviously taking a leaf out of your brothers' book -- always blaming the Slytherins for your own errors. How very noble of you. Ten points from Gryffindor for the damage to the classroom and ten for lying to a professor. And detention. Be here tomorrow night at eight."

He spun around, ignoring Ginny's incoherent cry of rage, and said, "Everyone splashed by Miss Weasley's potion, come to the front of the room for an antidote. Miss Weasley will remain after class to clean up her mess."

Ginny lined up for the antidote along with nearly the whole class, and shuddered at the taste of the three drops of viscous purple liquid Snape placed on her outstretched tongue. From the corner of her eye she could see the others pulling horrible faces at the sour, nauseating flavor. She felt horribly embarrassed; would the Gryffindors blame her? It was all Daphne's fault, of course, but they didn't know that for certain. And she'd lost twenty points in one class. Ginny glanced surreptitiously at her housemates. Eugene noticed and gave her an encouraging wave, but Apple shot her a hard look and turned away.

After dispensing the antidote, Snape declared the class a total failure, as several other pairs' potions had been contaminated in the explosion. He lectured for several minutes on the importance of proper attention to recipes and instructions, no matter how arbitrary they might seem. "None of you will even begin to approach the knowledge of Potions theory necessary to understand the reasons behind the directions, let alone the skill to make harmless or potentially beneficial alterations, until the end of your fifth year," he said, staring balefully at the class as if he wished to use them as test subjects for experimental potions. "I highly doubt any of you will have that knowledge even then, judging by your disastrous performance today. Place your cauldrons and supplies in the fifth cabinet on the left wall before you leave. Class dismissed."

Ginny sighed with relief and gathered her bottles and tins, which she'd carefully wiped clean while ignoring Snape's lecture; she knew perfectly well how to follow instructions and didn't care what he thought of her anymore. But before she could layer them neatly in her still-messy cauldron and escape, Snape leaned over her shoulder, his breath chill against her ear.

"Miss Weasley, I expect the room spotless in time for my next class, in half an hour," he said. "Also, as you would know, had you listened during the past quarter hour, one never puts anything in a cauldron before cleaning it. Ever."

Electra snickered as Snape swept through a door in the far wall, presumably to his office or a private workroom. Daphne sauntered over to Ginny, her bag slung casually over one shoulder. "I started over, Weasley," she said. "What do you think of my new approach?"

"You filthy cow," said Ginny furiously. "Get out."

"Now, now," said Daphne, a mock expression of hurt settling on her round face. "Please remember you insulted me first -- I'm only following your advice. Don't shift your troubles onto me."

She walked off, sending Ginny a jaunty wave over her shoulder. "Be seeing you, Weasley. Do give Apple my regards."

Ginny hissed wordlessly, too angry to respond with anything coherent. Spinning, she grabbed some rags and cleaning potion from the rusty sink in the corner and attacked her cauldron, imagining that the dissolving crust of her ruined Fevrous Potion was Daphne's face, and she could blot out the Slytherin girl's horrible, self-righteous smirk if she scrubbed hard enough.

Half an hour later, exhausted but successful, Ginny slunk out of the cleaned Potions dungeon just ahead of the inrushing tide of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff fourth-years, her bag weighing on her tired shoulders. She'd missed most of her break, but she desperately needed a bite before History of Magic. Detouring past the Great Hall, Ginny couldn't restrain an excited hop when she realized lunch wasn't over -- she could take something with her to class. She wrapped a turkey sandwich in a napkin and dashed off to Binns's room, shedding crumbs and bits of lettuce.

She slid into a seat at the back of the room with barely a minute to spare, shrugging at the questioning looks from her housemates. Apple glared at her; Ginny glared back, incensed, but Apple turned away as Binns walked through the door. Coward, thought Ginny.

As soon as Binns was fully immersed in his lecture, Ginny pulled out her sandwich, tidied the ragged edges, and ate half of it very quickly. Once the worst of her hunger was sated, she took her time on the rest of the sandwich, chewing thoroughly and thinking about anything but Potions.

This was easier said than done. No matter how hard she tried to think about Herbology, Astronomy star charts, or even the Transfiguration essay due Wednesday -- paying attention to Binns was out of the question -- her mind drifted back to Electra and Snape. And to Daphne. It was always Daphne. Tom had been right, she thought; some Slytherins were simply bad all through. She was beginning to think that good ones must be few and far between.

A wave of sympathy for Tom, trapped for seven years in that poisonous house, washed over Ginny. And on top of that, he was thwarted in love by his Rose, who must have had a stone heart not to like him. No wonder he seemed eager to talk to her; he'd needed a friend as badly as she had.

Lost in her thoughts, Ginny almost didn't notice when class ended, and she scrambled to put her unused parchment and quill back in her bag. She wanted to talk to Tom as soon as possible.

But on her way out of the room, she banged into Apple, who was trying to ask Binns a question. Before she could think about what she was doing, she grabbed Apple's arm and dragged her into the corridor. "Sorry Professor," she called over Apple's protests, and slammed the door behind them.

As soon as the door latched, Ginny dropped Apple's arm. "What is wrong with you?" she asked. "You know what happened in Potions. How can you say Daphne's a good person? She's in Slytherin. Look at what she did to me! She didn't even try to tell Snape it was her fault, and she laughed when Electra was being horrible to me."

Apple stood silently through Ginny's complaint, arms crossed and face impassive. "Are you finished?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Fine," said Apple. "Daphne told me what happened. You were absolutely, inexcusably horrible to her. I don't think it was right of her to ruin your potion -- not least because it was dangerous and stupid -- but if you have any honesty, you have to realize that you started the whole thing with your stupid prejudice against Slytherin. I can't believe you would say anything like that to her, particularly after you made her think you were her friend."

Ginny gasped. "You have it all backwards! I didn't do anything; she made me think she was my friend. And then she hurt Xanthe, and laughed at me, and was going to help Electra do something awful to me. All I did was say so! And she lost us twenty points--"

"Shut up!" shouted Apple, finally losing her aura of calm. "Look, I don't know what you have against Daphne, but you're not going to convince me you have any justification for anything. You're twisted and petty, and I wish you'd just go away and leave me alone! Leave Daphne alone too -- she never did anything you didn't deserve."

Apple stormed off down the corridor, leaving Ginny to stare blankly after her. What in the name of the Founders was that about? Apple was definitely wrong. Completely wrong. Daphne must be influencing her somehow; otherwise she'd see the truth.

Ginny stalked off to the common room, hoping to find someone to listen to her troubles. She didn't feel quite up to telling Tom -- she was sure she couldn't control her anger enough to write coherently without tearing the pages of the diary.

Fortunately, the twins were lounging before the fire, amiably insulting each other and tossing ideas back and forth. Ginny flung herself onto a couch across from her brothers, still fuming, and waited for them to notice her.

Fred saw her first. "Hey Ginny," he said cheerfully. "I see you survived Snape in one piece. Congratulations!"

"In one piece, but perhaps not in the best of moods, though," said George, leaning forward. "Talk our ears off, Ginny -- you know you want to--"

"--and you're going to whether we're willing to listen or not," finished Fred with a melodramatic sigh.

Ginny opened her mouth to let loose everything that had gone wrong since leaving the Burrow... and discovered she couldn't. This wasn't anything to tell her brothers, particularly not the twins, who'd only puncture her anger as if it were one of their more half-baked ideas. She didn't want to be cheered up or mocked; she wanted commiseration.

"Never mind," she said, grabbing her bag and standing. "It's not important."

George looked askance at Fred, who shrugged. "Whatever you say, sister dearest," said George. "If you change your mind, we'll most likely still be here."

"Or you could always try Percy," said Fred, snickering.

The twins turned back to each other and resumed their discussion, spinning wild ideas for pranks against the Slytherins, accompanied by much laughter at their own impracticality.

Ginny listened to her brothers' laughter as she walked up the stairs to the girls' room, wishing she had nothing more on her mind than throwing monkey wrenches into the twins' schemes, as she and Ron used to do. However, though she couldn't talk to them, just listening had calmed her enough that she felt capable of writing to Tom. Fred and George were wonderful brothers, really, despite their many, many flaws and irritating habits.

She wondered absently if she could get them to give her pointers on how to deal with Daphne -- then decided against it. There was no point dragging her family into a private affair, and besides, they'd never take it seriously enough.

Ginny leaned her bag against her bedpost, stacked her books neatly on the shelf under her night table, laid her quills and ink in the table's shallow drawer, and slid the now-empty bag under her bed next to her trunk. Flopping onto the bed, she slipped the diary out of her pillowcase and opened it.

"Dear Tom," she wrote. "Today was horrible. I had Double Potions in the morning, with the Slytherins. Snape, who teaches Potions, is Head of Slytherin House, and he always favors them. He's awfully nasty, too.

"But I saw Daphne again, and you were right that I should watch her. She laughed at me when Electra Summers -- a Slytherin, Snape paired me with her -- knocked over all my supplies. And then she tried to act as if she were still my friend. So I told her she wasn't acting like a friend, and she almost attacked me with a knife!"

Ginny paused for a deep breath, consciously loosening her grip on the quill. Writing wasn't calming her; instead, it was reawakening her anger and hurt. Nevertheless, she had to get everything out. "And then," she continued, "Daphne chucked something into my potion -- which I was having a hard enough time making anyhow since Electra wouldn't help at all -- and it exploded. Snape blamed me and wouldn't listen when I said it was Daphne's fault. He said it was awfully noble of me to blame others for my mistakes, gave me detention, and took twenty-five points off Gryffindor. I had to stay after to clean the room, too, and I missed lunch.

"Then after History of Magic, I asked Apple why she was still sticking up for Daphne -- and she said Daphne told her everything, and she couldn't see why I was so awful to Daphne. She said I deserved everything Daphne did!

"Tom, why is everyone against me? I can talk to the boys and Susan, but we're not really close. I can't talk to my brothers -- they'd just make jokes, or tell me to 'focus on my studies.' And Daphne turned Apple against me. What's wrong with me, Tom? What did I do wrong?"

Ginny dropped the quill on the night table and laid her head on the pillow, her hair fanning across the fading emerald ink on the diary's pages. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, blinking back a prickling, burning feeling. She would not cry; she was a Weasley and she refused to break down.

"Ginevra, you did nothing wrong," wrote Tom. Ginny rolled onto her back, holding the diary open above her face to make sure it would be safe even if she did break down and cry.

"You're a wonderful person and I'm honored to know you. I'm honored you trust me enough to tell me everything. And I'm sorry about Daphne, both for her own actions against you and for her influence over Apple. If I could change the world so no witch ever had to suffer persecution, I would, but I'm afraid I can't."

Ginny sniffled. She could almost feel Tom hugging her, his arms warm and solid around her shoulders, the way her family used to hug her when she was sad or hurt. "Let me hug it better," one of them would say, and no matter how deep her pain, somehow everything always seemed brighter after a hug.

Tom's hug was even better than her family's hugs.

"I think now, more than ever, you should keep a close eye on Daphne," continued Tom. "She seems to be a classic Dark Slytherin, particularly if she's this malicious to one who only points out her failings as a friend. If anything suspicious happens at Hogwarts, be especially careful around her; even if she isn't behind it, she might well be involved in dangerous activities."

There was a brief but pregnant pause; Ginny knew instinctively that Tom wasn't finished but merely hesitating before continuing. "If you wish," he wrote, "I can offer you some advice on ways to show that you won't buckle under and let her walk over you. You should make that clear as soon as possible."

Ginny rolled over and grabbed her quill. "Are you talking about revenge?" she asked.

"I wouldn't be so blunt, but yes. If that offends or disgusts you, I'm sorry; it may only be the Slytherin in me speaking."

Ginny grinned. Tom was so naïve sometimes, particularly about Gryffindors. He seemed to think they were all junior prefects in training, terrified of breaking rules. She'd show him, and show Daphne too.

"Tell me."

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Ginny muttered and turned over in her sleep, clutching her pillow tightly. Through the pillowcase, the diary pressed against her palm and she sighed, dreaming.

The princess walked slowly through the halls of the deserted castle, looking sorrowfully at the cracked and bloodstained stones. The tapestries hung in faded shreds from the walls, and the splintered window glass sent light skewing over the floors in fractured webs. But she steeled her heart against the devastation and walked on.

The once-beautiful rooms were lined with sleeping people, struck down in their daily rounds, fallen in corners and halls. Many were bleeding or lying twisted with broken limbs. But the princess averted her eyes from the ensorcelled people, all her courtiers and servants, all her lords and ladies, and walked on.

She was searching for the dragon.

The dragon lived deep in the hidden heart of the castle, sleeping until the heir called in need. And now the kingdom was threatened. An evil witch had spun a web of lies over the land, darkening the hearts of the people, causing them to welcome their enemies into their midst, confusing their blood with that of the dark.

The dragon would cleanse the land in fire.

The princess was searching for the dragon.

Ginny woke slowly, her mind still muzzy from sleep and heavy with dreams. She grasped feebly at the fading images: a ruined castle, a princess, and a sleeping dragon... she would have sworn she'd had the same dream Friday night, and she'd never had a repeating dream before. Ginny shook herself, yawning. It was probably nothing, she decided, only brought on by living in a castle and sleeping away from home.

Susan, Jia-li, and Gwen still seemed to be asleep -- their bed curtains were drawn and closed -- but Apple's bed was made and her nightdress hung neatly from a hook on a bedpost. It was just as well she was gone, Ginny thought. After yesterday afternoon, they'd avoided each other all evening -- Ginny claiming she was tired and wanted to sleep, and Apple barricading herself in the common room, surrounded by books and parchment. They could continue avoiding each other today.

Ginny showered and dressed quickly, stuffed her books into her bag, and slipped the diary in as well. She didn't want to wait until afternoon to tell Tom how their plan for revenge worked; instead, she'd tell him just after breakfast.

Hurrying down to the Great Hall, she ran over the plan again, heart pounding in anticipation. Just before the doors, she slowed, tugged her hands through her hair, and composed herself. This wouldn't work if she appeared to have any motive for harming Daphne.

Pasting a neutral expression onto her face, Ginny pushed through the doors into the hall; a wave of cheerful noise washed over her, pooling against the closing doors. She swept a glance over the Slytherin table, spotting Daphne sitting next to her friend Ruth, their backs to the rest of the room -- specifically, sitting along the aisle between the Slytherin and Ravenclaw tables. Everyone else was concentrating on eating, it being too early for much else. Perfect.

Ginny walked casually between the two tables, heading towards a group of first year Ravenclaws at the head of their table. As she reached Daphne, she grabbed a pitcher of pumpkin juice, and dropped it on the Slytherin girl's plate, letting the liquid soak her breakfast and run into her lap. Ginny continued walking forward as if nothing had happened.

By the time Daphne's furious screams caught the attention of the sleepy Professor Sinistra -- the sole inhabitant of the staff table -- Ginny was at the head of the Ravenclaw table, leaning over to ask Yukiko Izushima a question about the Astronomy charts due Wednesday. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Daphne gesticulating wildly and pointing at her, but Sinistra, yawning discreetly behind a raised hand, simply shrugged and dismissed her. "I'm sorry, but I can't do anything. There's no proof."

"What do you mean no proof?" shouted Daphne. "I know she did it! She dumped pumpkin juice on me!"

"There's no proof," said Sinistra again. "Nobody saw anything. Calm down, Miss Rumluck, and don't force me to give you another detention. Go clean yourself off -- you too, Miss Gelfand -- and please refrain from spilling your breakfast in the future." Yawning again, she stumbled back to the staff table.

"Thanks," said Ginny to Yukiko, as Sinistra passed them. "I'll make sure to account for the retrograde motion of Jupiter; I think that's where I went wrong. See you tomorrow night!"

Yukiko smiled absently and returned her attention to her fruit salad. Ginny smiled inside; that had gone perfectly. Yukiko was the ideal alibi -- she was a Ravenclaw's Ravenclaw, and would never question anyone seeking help with schoolwork. And having Sinistra -- who was anything but a morning person, and who already disliked the Slytherin first years -- as the only available professor to hear Daphne's complaint was a stroke of pure luck.

She couldn't wait to tell Tom how well their scheme had worked.

As Ginny sat down at the Gryffindor table, Apple leaned over from several seats away. "I saw you," she said coldly. "I was watching. Be grateful I didn't say anything to Sinistra."

"Oh, you saw me, did you?" said Ginny, suddenly furious. "And I should be grateful to you? Ha. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have had to bother."

Apple frowned slightly but said only, "I hope you know what you've let yourself in for. Daphne doesn't forgive easily."

Ginny pointedly ignored Apple. Instead of responding, she buttered two pieces of toast, spread an even layer of honey on one, aligned the two slices into a sandwich, and sliced it into four triangular quarters, which she ate in precise bites. She didn't spill a single drop on her plate.

When she'd finished, Apple was gone.

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End of Chapter Three