Ginny Weasley and the Memory of Power

The train was moving. She and Hermione looked at one another, stunned. Then the door to the compartment began to jiggle. "There you are," Hermione said, turning to the door, her relief a little too evident.

"Oh, Hermione," said a somewhat round-looking boy with a vaguely puzzled expression. "Do you mind if we come in?" He was accompanied by a short, freckled boy with a camera.

"Some boy called Malfoy is making a dreadful racket in our one," the boy with the camera added vaguely.

"We have plenty of room," Ginny said.

"Malfoy's always like that," Hermione added. "Ginny Weasley, this is Neville Longbottom. Neville's in my year. Neville, this is Ginny--Ron's little sister. I'm Hermione Granger," Hermione said, for the benefit of the freckled boy. "I'm afraid I don't know your name."

"Colin Creevy," the boy squeaked. "My dad's a postman."

Hermione looked somewhat nonplussed. "My parents are dentists," she told him. "Magic takes a little getting used to, but it's worth it."

"Everything's so exciting," Colin gabbled. "I didn't know places like Diagon Alley existed. And did you know they make candy that comes in every flavor? They're called Bertie Botts Beans and-- " Ginny realized she was staring.

"Hey," Neville interrupted so smoothly Ginny got the impression he was getting used to Colin's rambling, "where are Ron and Harry?"

"Wherever they are," Ginny said firmly, "Ron has some explaining to do. He promised to keep me company."

"She has witnesses," Hermione confirmed, looking dangerous momentarily.

"Ooh. Sorry," Neville muttered awkwardly and slapped his forehead.

"Trevor," Hermione said clinically a split-second before he exclaimed, "Trevor!"

Colin eyed Hermione interestedly. "Cool. Was that magic?"

"No," Hermione assured him with a smile, shaking her head. "I just know Neville." Ginny grinned. Neville and Colin were certainly entertaining, but she almost wished she had a chance to talk to Hermione without them around. Still, they had a whole year to get to know one another.

"Firs' years," an unlikely man towering over the crowd called as Ginny stumbled off the train. "Firs' years over here."

"That's Hagrid," Hermione explained. "He's going to take you on the traditional boat ride."
"Firs' years," Hagrid called again. Ginny looked over at him, uncertain. Hermione squeezed her arm in encouragement. "You'll do great, " she said, and Hermione was never wrong if Ron were to be believed. "I'll see you at the feast."
Ginny nodded and trailed after Colin who had scampered off ahead.

The lights of the castle melted and merged in the mist over lake, hanging in air just out of reach like a suspension of stars. The very air seemed alive with the throb of magic. Breathless, Ginny was suddenly very glad she had come.

The first years stopped in an uncertain clump in the entry, staring around unsurely. A tall witch in gorgeous robes of cut green velvet stood above them. She looked taunt, like a rope tightly pulled, but her eyes were touched with softness and her voice had the husky hint of a kitten's purr, warming Ginny to the tips of her toes. "I am Professor McGonagall," she said, and proceeded to explain the house system Ginny had been hearing about her whole life before she lined them up in pairs.

The Great Hall was even more magical than the view from the lake. The starlight sky hung overhead, so close you felt you could reach up and snatch stars from it. Just below it hung hundreds of candles ablaze in flickering rows. Ginny had never realized before the awesome power and possibility of being a witch, but she knew she would never again forget. They were irrevocably a part of her, the knowledge, this time and place, like her red hair or her freckles.

She tried not to look at the sea of faces on either side of her, but Hermione, Percy, and the twins muttered encouragement as she passed. She didn't hear anything from Harry or Ron. Violently squelching both disappointment and worry, Ginny vowed revenge. When she saw the hat, she extended the vow to the twins.

"Adumar, Nathan," Professor McGonagall read loudly.

A friendly-looking boy in glasses walked up to the hat and put it on. Nothing happened. Then, "Ravenclaw," the hat announced, and the boy went to join their table.

Anderson, Bettina was a Hufflepuff almost before she put the hat on.

Creevy, Colin became a Gryffindor after some deliberation.

Duran, Doug wore a heavy scowl. Ginny was almost relieved when he disappeared in the direction of the Slytherin table. Part of her remembered the diary's fascination with Slytherin and wanted to shiver.

Edwards, Nineve was Ravenclaw. Hufflepuff got Fraiser, Vivian and Geeble, Christopher. Hart, Patricia was a Gryffindor.

Ginny's legs were numb by the time they reached Lyman, Leonore, also a Gryffindor.

"Walden, Ian," eventually became a Gryffindor, and suddenly it was Ginny's turn.

She still couldn't feel her legs, but somehow she managed to walk to the stool. The hat felt heavy and old in her hands. She put it on and was glad she was sitting down when a voice spoke in her head. So, another Weasley, the hat--or so she assumed--said, sounding amused. But a girl. Isn't that a different story?

You tell me, Ginny thought, and felt a tickle suspiciously like a chuckle. A quick wit. And a strong love of books. Perhaps Ravenclaw. The hat paused and added You have the Weasley temper and a tendency to impatience, I see. Definitely NOT a Hufflepuff.

No, Ginny admitted ruefully, I'm afraid I'm not that nice.

It's a wise person who knows their own limitations. You would do well in Ravenclaw indeed. You're reluctant. Why?

Someone told me Slytherin was the real house of learning, Ginny temporized, not wanting to admit she was afraid that without her brothers she would be lonely.

You wouldn't do in Slytherin, the hat reproved, you're far too transparent. It's a tough call but when all's said and done you have to be loyal to your heart, Ginny Weasley. No matter what your head may have to say about the matter. Never forget that. And in your heart, you're a--"Gryffindor!"

Unsettled as she was by the experience, Ginny knew the hat was right. Gryffindor was her family. Gryffindor was home. Tears of joy pushed at the back of her eyes as she went to join them. She couldn't even hear the next name, the twins were cheering so loudly.

The feast was delicious, even if Ginny didn't notice half of what she ate because she was too busy craning around the table in search of Harry and Ron. She still hadn't found them when the Prefect led her back to the dormitory. She loved the roaring fire and squashy armchairs of the cozy Common Room instantly, even if the number of people in it was kind of overwhelming.

She was glad to escape to the first year girls' dormitory and put on the pajamas the house elves had laid out. To her own surprise, she was completely exhausted. She wouldn't even have written in the diary before falling asleep if she hadn't promised. -Well, the feast is over.--

--And?--

--I'm a Gryffindor.--

--Congratulations.-- Ginny knew it was ridiculous, but she couldn't help thinking the word looked a little flat.

--Yeah, no surprise there. Do you know any good tricks?--

--Isn't it a bit early to play tricks on your classmates?--

--Lighten up, you sound like Percy. Anyway, I want to trick my brothers, not my classmates. Ron lied to me, the prat. He was SUPPOSED to keep me company on the train--

--With Harry?--

--Well, yeah. But they weren't even at the feast. Supportive, huh?--

--Maybe they have a good reason.--

--And it would be?--

--You could sneak some vanishing parchment into his bag so he'll use it to do his homework. When he goes to turn the essay in--

--All the words will vanish and he'll think he has to do it again unless he wants to hand it in blank! You're pretty sneaky.

--I like to think so.--

--The school is incredible.--

--And it has incredible secrets. Someday I'll tell you a few.--

--Like what?--

--Not tonight. You need your sleep.--

--Wet blanket.-- Ginny drew a smiley face so the diary would know she was teasing and dropped it into the bag next to her bed.

Seconds later the door to the dormitory burst open as the other girls bounced in, looking as if they'd just left a party. "A car!," a tall, solid girl was saying, "Can you imagine?"

"Leave it to Harry Potter to arrive with a bang," a round-nosed girl with dark hair agreed. The other girls all seemed to find this remark unbelievably funny though Ginny couldn't imagine why.

"Harry didn't come to school on the train?", she asked a bit stupidly.

The other girls laughed. "Not him. He used a car and flew in."

Dad's blue Anglia? "Why?" Ginny demanded.

"Something about not being able to get through the Barrier at Platform 9 ¾?" a blonde with eyebrows like question marks explained with a shrug. "Rubbish."

"Doesn't make a lot of sense," the dark-haired girl agreed, "but if he didn't want to get expelled, he had to tell Dumbledore something, didn't he?"

Ginny could feel her face scrunching together in a concentrated frown. It certainly didn't make a lot of sense why Ron and Harry would be unable to get through the Barrier when she didn't have any problem. Still, if it were true...and what would she do if Ron and Harry were expelled?

"Feels funny, doesn't it," the tall girl observed into the silence pressing in on all sides, "to be roommates."

"My sister says in no time at all it will feel like second nature because we're so used to it," the brunette volunteered uncertainly.

"I'm glad you guys are going to class with me," the blonde admitted. "I won't feel so ridiculous and out of place if I know someone."

The tall girl surveyed the group matter-of-factly. "Maybe we'd better introduce ourselves in that case." She sat down on the bed that must have held her things. "Patricia Hart-- I can't stand Quidditch." Ginny must have looked as shocked as she felt, because Patricia snickered. "Mum blames it on Dad--he's a muggle."

"I guess I'm next?" The brunette glanced around to be sure. "Leonore Lyman. My parents run the post office in Hogsmeade."

"Tempest Zabini," the blonde said.

"Ginny Weasley. I have 6 brothers."

"6! That's a lot!" Patricia looked vaguely startled.

"Yeah, I get teased badly enough by one," Leonore sympathized.

Ginny smiled weakly.

"What do you think class tomorrow will be like?" speculated Tempest. "I hope we don't get a lot of homework."

"Who doesn't?" Patricia seconded with a sigh.

The idea of homework actually exited Ginny. The more she learned, the faster her brothers would stop picking on her for being so far behind. She looked away, feeling uncomfortable.

If she hadn't been required to wake, Ginny never would have believed she finally managed to block out the sound of the other girls whispering and fall asleep. Actually, they weren't what disturbed her most if she was being honest. Her mattress and pillow were a blissful retreat, but the shadows seemed alien and the bed curtain created a sibilant hissing that was far beyond merely distracting.

A sharp face with clear, penetrating eyes hovered strangely in the back of her mind just out of reach. She had the impression she'd seen it in a dream she didn't remember having, not that such a minor detail could keep her from feeling worried about something. She would have liked to put a name to the face, she felt as if she knew him. What Ginny wanted more than anything was to go back to sleep.

"We're going to breakfast," Patricia announced as if Ginny's participation wasn't a question.

Ginny wasn't really hungry, but Mum wouldn't like her skipping breakfast and she didn't want to go without anyone else.

Hermione glanced up from a book propped against a milk jug and smiled so warmly Ginny nearly asked her what on earth could possibly be so interesting about Gilderoy Lockhart. "Good morning," she said instead, a little blearily, and decided not to notice Ron and Harry toward whom Hermione had her back directed.

She managed a seat between Hermione and Tempest, and studied the food for a moment before picking up a piece of toast with a decided lack of enthusiasm. Ginny really hated mornings. She wished the Great Hall served coffee, but , as far as she could tell, they didn't. She gave a sigh that quickly became a yawn instead, then broke off as she saw hundreds of owls soar overhead. They circled the tables with majestic grace, dropping packages that Ginny, used to owl post, still found amazing.

She felt the tiniest sliver of guilt at the angry satisfaction she felt when the red envelope arrived for Ron. Politely pretending to be interested in the different magical bands Tempest was reviewing for Colin Creevy, Ginny paid avid attention as Ron opened the Howler. Mum's yelling confirmed that, for whatever reason, Harry and Ron really hadn't been on the train. Ginny was even starting to feel sorry for Ron. He not only looked like he'd learned his lesson, she'd never seen him so red. Mum made him more uncomfortable than Ginny ever could. She was considering whether or not to let him off the hook when Mum's magically-magnified voice mentioned her. Her face was so hot with blush she was sure her hair was going to catch fire. Her skin was so incredibly sensitive, she could feel each eye on her like a pinpoint. Desperate to escape, she instinctively began to sink under the table. She was going to get Ron for this.

She loved the diminutive Professor Flitwick the minute she walked into his classroom for her very first lesson. He was cheerful, wonderfully warm with wit both quiet and quirky. It was a pleasure just to listen to him speak. As an added bonus, Charms seemed to have a simple grace Ginny found quite fascinating.

Their next class--History of Magic-- was, in direct contrast, impossibly boring. "I'm not surprised he didn't notice he was dead," Ginny whispered dryly to Colin. "If he was this interesting when he was alive." Colin squeaked in amusement, drawing sharp looks their direction. Ginny opened her Astronomy book under the edge of the desk and ignored them.

Astronomy was marvelous. Ginny loved the clean smell of the night air at the top of the tallest tower and the smooth arc of the stars through the telescope that rested so comfortably in her hand. The notations looked crisp and complicated on her parchment, generating a feeling of satisfying importance that made Ginny worry she was too much like Percy.

She wasn't quite sure how she felt about Herbology. Parts of it seemed very interesting, but the greenhouse was crowded with Gryffindor and Slytherin so that it felt hot and stifling, and the Slytherins kept casting sideways glances in her direction and whispering. Ginny spent most of the lesson trying not to fall into something or contaminate the soil by sweating.

She spent most of Care of Magical Creatures with Hufflepuff longing for the castle's silence and shade.

Transfiguration was enjoyable just by comparison. Professor McGonagall was clipped but concise with a subtle but pervasive enthusiasm for her subject that attentive students couldn't help but sense and respond to. Ginny thought her match looked sharper by the end of class, but it might have been her imagination.

Defense Against the Dark Arts, on the other hand, took about two minutes to give her a splitting headache, with all those photos running around trying to get her attention and Lockhart's tedious test that didn't seem to include a single useful question.

Potions with Ravenclaw was last. She hadn't been there ten minutes when she decided her brothers were absolutely right--Snape was a git without a nice bone in his body. At least he seemed willing to leave her alone...the worst thing that happened was that her hand got tired chopping ingredients, and Ginny was willing to consider herself lucky.

By the end of the week, she hardly knew how she felt about anything. She knew the most logical approach would have been to try to write things down in her diary, so she could see them separately and sort them out that way, but somehow, she couldn't help feeling that she'd feel a lot less worn and confused if she could just get away from the school...especially if she could see Harry...

She walked out into the glaring late summer sun without any real idea of where she was going, squinting against the glare off the lake that threatened to drive her blind. "Oh, 'Ello, there," boomed a voice she found familiar. "You must be the Weasleys' little sister."

Ginny felt herself flush, which only confirmed the assumption. Too shy to form words, she nodded mutely.

"Ginny innit?," the giant persisted.

Ginny nodded again.

The giant grinned. "Well, welcome to me 'umble 'ome, Ginny Weasley. I'm Hagrid--Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts. Would you care for a drink?"

"Ooh," Ginny breathed, forgetting her shyness. "Yes, please!"

Hagrid laughed, holding open the door to the little cottage. "Well, come on in, then."

Hagrid poured them both tall glasses of cool apple cider. "Just the thing to get me in the mood for school and all," he said cheerfully, "there's nothing that seems more fitting fer autumn."

Ginny preferred pumpkin juice, but she had to admit that the cider did seem somehow suited to the thought of changing colors in the trees and a cool crisp breeze. "My brother Ron talks about you a lot," she said shyly. "He says he and Harry come to visit you all the time."

"That they do, an' Hermione, too," Hagrid confirmed with a smile. "He's right loyal, your brother."

Ginny smiled proudly. "I know," she said softly, and Hagrid reached out and ruffled her hair with one of his huge hands.

"Want ter see me pumpkins? They're coming along nicely already if I do say so meself."

Grateful for something to push the wish that Ron would just notice that she should be part of his group, too, having been his most loyal supporter long before he started school, Ginny nodded.

The pumpkins were huge. Ginny stared in amazement. "Wow." she finally said. "They almost look like they have an engorgement on them."

Hagrid shifted uncomfortably, looking remarkably like one of the twins confronted with mum. Ginny fought the urge to giggle. She leaned her head in slightly to whisper, "Don't worry, I won't tell."

Hagrid clapped her thankfully on the back, nearly knocking her headfirst into the questionable pumpkin patch. "Much obliged to yer. Come back an' visit soon, Miss Weasley."

"Okay," she agreed, waving as she walked away, stopping for a stray chicken that wandered across her path. She saw chickens all the time at home, but something about this one sent a surge of apprehension under her skin she was sure she had to be imagining. "Bye, Hagrid!"