Ginny

Chapter 4 - A New Leaf

Ginny had been in what she had learned was 1975 for almost a week now and was beginning to quite enjoy it. Rather than making a show of pitying her when she was around and hating her when she wasn't, the Gryffindors were being nice. They were being friendly. There was no incessantly over-protective Ron, no oblivious Harry treating her like a little sister and utterly failing to pick up on why it was that she tended to go red when immediately addressed by him. Nobody thought she was the crazy girl who had accidentally released the Horror Within the Chamber of Secrets. Nobody regarded her as The Youngest Weasley, just another one of many redheaded freckle-faced Gryffindors. Comparatively few people knew the circumstances of Ginny's sudden arrival at Hogwarts; or indeed knew of it at all, for she was not participating in lessons until her origin was determined, and she was very discreet at mealtimes - especially compared to James and his friends, to whom Ginny had been introduced soon after her appearance. She had not known Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew, Remus Lupin and James Potter for very long but had come to feel that Sirius was constantly stoned, Peter was constantly quiet (except when everyone else was shouting), Remus was constantly moody and James was constantly thick as two short planks stuck together with Stupid GlueTM, and covered in mud. James seemed to spend all his free time on the Quidditch pitch, getting muddier than Ginny had previously believed possible. She was quite certain that Harry's position on the Gryffindor Quidditch team (or, indeed, any of the other team members') had required - would require - that his face, hands, robes and shoes be completely coated in mud.

Ginny was glad when the weekend came as it would give her an opportunity to socialise. Everybody else spent all day in lessons, and Ginny was left with nothing to do but sit around Gryffindor Tower in robes borrowed from the Lost Property Heap located in a corner of the Hospital Wing.

Saturday also brought news from Dumbledore. Ginny was talking to Narcissa and Roìsìn about random general things when a third-year girl knocked on the door and told Ginny Dumbledore wanted to see her. Ginny followed the girl through the Gryffindor common room, where Sirius and Peter were playing Exploding Snap and Remus seemed to be replicating a sheet of parchment with something written on it that Ginny couldn't quite make out. James was sitting next to him, scribbling something on another sheet of parchment but looked up when Ginny passed.

"Lily. Where're you off to?"

Ginny was about to speak when the third-year cut in. "She has to go and see Professor Dumbledore."

"Oh. Why?"

"I, uh, don't know. But he told me to come and get her. Um."

James shrugged and finished the sentence he was writing, which Ginny could now see read: 'Lost: full set of marbles. If found please return to the Headmaster's office.' The one Remus was duplicating was: 'Two sandwiches missing, required for successfcontinuation of picnic. Contact Professor Albus Dumbledore.'

Ginny smiled but declined to comment, since the third-year who had come to collect her was hopping anxiously from one foot to the other next to the portrait-hole. Ginny waved and smiled at Peter and Sirius, neither of whom noticed, and left the common room.

*****

"Lily, I'm afraid we haven't been able to contact anyone who has any idea who you are," announced Dumbledore once the third-year girl had left. "Unless anybody does contact us, you're going to have to stay in a Muggle orphanage. The wizarding ones ..." Dumbledore sighed. "Wizarding orphanages are fairly full at the moment due to the activities of Voldemort." Ginny flinched. "I'm sorry," said Dumbledore gently. "Of course, since you yourself are not a Muggle, you will be studying at Hogwarts. You may, of course, stay here over the Christmas and Easter holidays, but will be trying to find an orphanage for you to live in over the summer."

"But - if I study at Hogwarts - don't I need, you know, a wand...?" Ginny did not have a clue as to where her wand was. She knew she'd dropped it but she didn't want to look for it round the greenhouses because it might look suspicious. On top of that, she was supposed to have been kidnapped and memory-charmed by the Dark Lord. If that had happened it wasn't likely that she would have been left with her wand. It had been all she could do to keep the Time-Turner hidden. "... and books and stuff...?"

Dumbledore smiled. "Tomorrow you may travel to Diagon Alley - a street in London inaccessible to Muggles, most wizards to their shopping there, a bit like Portobello Road I'm told - via Floo Powder from Hogsmeade. I'm sure Mr. Potter and his friends have told you about Hogsmeade," he added with a smile. Ginny nodded (arg, the dread nod. Forgive me father, for I have sinned). "Good, good. Mr. Potter will accompany you, I don't want to leave you to fend for your self, and he does seem rather concerned about you, you know. Don't worry," he continued, raising a hand to prevent Ginny from interrupting, "he's not missing too much of his education. I do believe all he has tomorrow is Divination, and ... Quidditch practice. I think he's had enough of that not to cause any problems. I know you have no money of your own, so -" he glanced around surreptitiously "- I'm going to give you some. Don't tell everybody or we might be flooded with students pretending to have lost their memories in order to obtain loans." He fished out a bag from his pocket, which clinked in away that was probably capable of attracting cutpurses from fifty paces, and pushed it gently across the table, where Ginny stared at it in what she realised was a rather gormless way. She looked quickly towards Dumbledore, who was informing her that it was sixty-odd Galleons and to be careful about spending it all too quickly.

She muttered her thanks and was shooed out by Dumbledore, who evidently, indicated by Sirius' sheepish presence outside the door, had other students to deal with. Hurrying back down the revolving staircase and out from behind the gargoyle, she shoved the bag of coins into the inadequate pocket of the brown and orange micro-mini dress, which had been salvaged from the Lost Property Heap. This, along with her robes, a large, slightly bedraggled jumper and a pair of sludge green flares, made up her current wardrobe. These items had mainly been selected because they were more intact than most of the other things on the Heap, and smelt the least like rotting animal parts. Ginny shuddered involuntarily at the memory. She would definitely buy some new clothes tomorrow.

*****

The rushing sound, which had been growing louder in her ears, abruptly stopped, leaving for a second an odd vacuum as though all the sound had been sucked out of the world. Then an invisible force propelled her roughly forwards, unceremoniously tipping her out of the fireplace. Ginny quickly picked herself up off the floor and out of the way of the grate. This was just as well, given James' disorganised arrival from the Floo network into the space she had just vacated - neither of them seemed to have the knack of Floo travel. Looking around, she saw that the Leaky Cauldron wasn't too different to when she had last been there - or would be there. It still had a shabby yet friendly feel, the dimly lit room crowded with tables around which sat the typical group of witches and wizards discussing everything under the sun. Tom was still behind the bar - maybe with a few more teeth and a few less liver spots.

As when she had first been brought into the Gryffindor common room, not many people acknowledged their arrival. It was usual for the customers to not bat an eyelid at people issuing forth from the large fireplace at any given time.

James took longer than Ginny to get up from the floor, but moved pretty rapidly when a small elderly witch shot out behind him, clutching her hat piled high with plastic grapes (at least, Ginny presumed they were plastic, but you never knew with some people). He adjusted his glasses, which had been knocked askew, and looked up at her. Proffering his arm, he announced, nervously, "shall we?" Ginny grasping his arm tightly, they made their way through the pub and out into the bright morning sun.

*****

Diagon Alley was not too crowded, with many people away at school or work. Christmas had been and gone quite a while ago and the back to school rush wasn't for months, so all in all it was a very relaxed atmosphere.

Ginny looked around at the array of brightly coloured shops. Where to go first? Her main priority was to get some decent clothes - oh, and her Hogwarts things of course. Glancing along the street, she noticed a large, department store-looking shop where Gladrags would be in the future. A fluorescent magenta sign proclaimed "Biba - Wizardwear of the future!" Ginny suppressed a giggle at the irony, and turned to James.

"I want to go there," she said firmly, pointing to the shop whose sign was now flashing a mix of purple and green.

"There? Why?" James looked as though she had proposed wandering across the Savannah with fresh meat strapped to their bodies shouting "here kitty - dinner time".

"To weave authentic Mongol clothing. To go donkey trekking through Canada. To get clothes you twit," replied Ginny, but without any malice in her voice.

"I know. But I thought - I mean, Madam Malkin's, why not there?"

She began to walk slowly down the cobbled road; her arm was still liked with his, jolting him after her.

"Well, for school things, yes, but I'm not going to wear those all the time, am I?"

"No, but - "James began.

"And I can't keep on wearing this," she said coyly, stopping to flap open her cloak and reveal the brown and orange micro-mini dress. Moving her legs, so that as much of her thighs were on show as possible, she said, "I mean, look at it," Ginny twitched the small bit of fabric masquerading as the skirt half of the dress, "it's so small."

She didn't like to play the thigh card, but it served its purpose. James' face was a mix of sheer terror and the obvious desire to drool uncontrollably. He was, after all, a fifteen-year-old boy. And what with the long, concealing robes that most witches wore, it would have been a surprise if he had even seen a girl's legs before.

"You see?" she added with one last flash of skin.

"Ergle," replied James.

"Come on," she said, seizing his arm.

"But - but, only if you get an owl!" he cried trying to regain some self-dignity.

Ginny turned. "What? I don't need one!"

James raised his eyebrows. "What if you need to send a letter?"

"I'll use Narcissa's," she answered as if it was obvious, and James was just being thick.

"What if she wants to use it?"

"She can use yours."

James' eyebrows crawled closer to his hairline.

"She can, can't she? Oh, please James, don't be stubborn."

He replied with doing the impossible, and raising his eyebrows further.

"Fine, fine, I'll get an owl. Come one." Ginny seized his arm again and lead him off towards the now orange shop sign.

*****

The Owl Emporium was, unsurprisingly, full of owls, rustling and hooting and shuffling in the dim light.

Ginny wandered up and down the rows of perches from which pairs of round copper eyes stared at her. Peering at a large Asian Eagle Owl, she was suddenly distracted by James' cry of "Oh, Lily, look! You have to get this one!"

Ginny sighed and trudged over to where James was standing excitedly, holding a small, unremarkable brown speckly owl in his hands.

"It's a burrowing owl!" he said happily.

"A burrowing owl? Like, a mole owl?"

"They live in little holes! Oh, c'mon, Lily, he's so cute! He's called Stumpy!"

"Stumpy the Burrowing Owl."

"Stumpy the Burrowing Owl!"

"Why don't you buy him then?"

"I have an owl already. And I don't have any money."

Ginny rolled her eyes and left James to coddle Stumpy. At length she stopped, spotting a cluster of miniscule grey-brown owls. Two of them could have fitted on the palm of her hand without much bother at all. "They're so sweet!" she almost squealed. It was evidently difficult to comprehend the words in her squeak of delight, because James, managing to tear his eyes away from the burrowing owl in his hands, asked her what the matter was.

"These -" she glanced at the label attached to their little aviary, "Pygmy owls... They're so adorable!"

James grinned. "Yeah, but they weigh less than the average letter. Can't carry much more than a tissue."

Ginny nodded, her eyes still on the pygmy owls. "I suppose..."

"Ooh! Ooh! Fancy owls!" exclaimed James, carefully putting Stumpy down and almost bouncing over to a corner of the shop where, amongst the browns and greys, were bright fluorescent pinks, blues, yellows and oranges; piebald owls; owls with huge feathers on their legs which completely hid their feet from view; owls whose facial feathers protruded past their beaks, begging the question of how they managed to eat (this was in fact achieved with the aid of a small, long-handled spoon).

Ginny stared. The practice of fancy owl breeding was not one with which she was very familiar. After all, when had she ever been in a specialist owl shop? Errol was probably older than she was and she hadn't been with her parents and Percy when they had purchased Hermes. These owls were truly bizarre.

"Oh, Lily, you have to get one of these. They're so funny! Look, this one has a ruff like Nearly-Headless Nick!"

Ginny stifled a giggle - the ruff did not particularly resemble the Elizabethan one worn by Nick, being as it was comprised of feathers, but there was something about the owl's expression that reminded her of the ghost. "It does look like him, doesn't it?"

They spent quite a long time looking at the array of fantastical owls, and although Ginny particularly fancied a bright pink Fwooper hybrid, James pointed out that not only was it liable to be spotted by Muggles, but regardless of what the shopkeeper said, its hooting might well cause insanity. Ginny thought that this would not really make much difference to the Gryffindor fourth-years, but didn't say so.

Eventually she settled on a brown owl, which was largely normal looking except for the fact that the feathery 'ears' were as long as the owl itself. They drooped either side of its face, making it look somewhat like a feathery, wall-eyed dog, and swayed from side to side as Ginny carried it out of the shop.

"I'm going to call him Percival," she declared.

"Percival."

"Yes."

"... Right. Percival."

*****

It was late afternoon when Ginny and James arrived back at Hogwarts, and since it wasn't particularly warm outside and it was the weekend, the Gryffindor common room was full of people, mostly doing noisy things. Ginny had left the newly christened Percival in the Owlery to get settled in. James has blushed furiously, and insisted that while she did that he should take her many packages back to the girls' dorms.

It was funny. Here, she didn't feel so haunted by her memories - hah, memories of a memory. Perhaps it was because nobody knew. Perhaps other people knowing was the reason she'd gone mad. Or had she? It all seemed so far away. Surely, though, just the fact that nobody was aware of it didn't mean it hadn't happened - but it hadn't. It hadn't happened yet and it wouldn't do for twenty years. At this point in time, Tom's diary was probably just an item of interest in the Malfoy's house. Mansion, probably, but it was irrelevant anyway. The point was, Tom's laugh didn't echo through her mind when it wasn't occupied. It had for a while, but it had died away. Maybe the fact that her mind was occupied more frequently with things other than the Chamber of Secrets helped.

And, of course, her friends. She had friends. People around her who liked her for her and were interested in what she had to say. People who didn't whisper about her behind her back; spread rumours, nasty, cruel rumours that she talked about killing things in her sleep, that she was dangerous and insane.

Ginny shuddered and pulled her thoughts away from the future and back to the crowded noisy common room. Anyway, even if she was mad, she thought decisively, it wouldn't matter because everyone else was completely bonkers too. She'd fit right in.

Taking one of the few unoccupied chairs, Ginny wondered absent-mindedly if it was any different in the other house's common rooms. She thought it probably would be. Somehow she couldn't imagine, say, Slytherins leaning very close to one another and poking one another, with great care and deliberation, on the nose (A/N: How wrong she is), or a group of Ravenclaws avidly discussing invasion tactics of Daleks.

At that moment, James appeared in the common room again, looking quite flustered.

"Girls' dorms too much for you?" she teased.

"No - there's just ... I mean - I, well, um... I live in a house." He turned an odd shade of puce and sat down heavily in a chair opposite her.

"Good, good. I hear that's quite common place nowadays." She grinned inwardly at his obvious discomfort.

"With, um, rooms and er ...more rooms. Than we need, that is. So spare rooms, in other words, um, yeah." He squirmed under her fixed gaze. She could tell where he was going with this. On one hand she could help him out and save him suffering. Or, on the other hand, she could drag it out as long as possible for her own entertainment.

"Well, lucky you."

"And, erm," Ginny could see his mind franticly searching for the right words, "I, we, that is, us, my parents - and me, well more my mum, but that doesn't matter. Easter - what are you doing for ... it."

"Oh, you know. I was going to stay at Hogwarts and catch up with some of the work I've missed. Nothing special. Why do you ask?"

"Well, " he took a deep breath, "mymumsaidyoucouldstaywithusifyoulikebutIdidn't thinkyouwouldbutshesaidtoaskanywaysoIdidandnowIcan'tbreathe."

"Thank you. That would be lovely."

James looked intensely relieved, and stood up straight away, grabbing his broom which was conveniently resting by the chair he had been sitting in. "Um. Gotta go - Quidditch practice - Bye." He bolted out of the portrait hole, leaving her once again alone in the common room.

Yes, she would fit in quite nicely.