An Eventful Year

Harry paled as the crowd parted, and whispers started.

“Look, Mum, it’s Harry Potter!”

“Hush, dear, it’s not polite to point..”

“Oh, Harry Potter! He looks so dashing, and brave!”

“Look at that smile he’s giving Lockhart, a bit nervous, yet full of confidence!”

“Excuse me, do you have the time?”

Harry looked rather frightened at all the attention. I guess I was wrong to think that he must've been used to this by now. I remembered what Ron had said, how Harry had been given to his Muggle relatives and had absolutely no idea that our wizarding world existed. And this was only his 2nd year in it! I wonder what it would've been like to live as a Muggle and then find out about all this.. great shock, it must've been. I'm rather glad I'm a Weasley.

Mr Lockhart grabbed Harry round the wrist and pulled him towards the desk in the front. The crowd applauded in satisfaction, and Harry turned a bright red. Fred and George were imitating the swooning girls in the front, and Ron and Hermione were doing nothing to conceal their laughter. Mum looked quite jealous.

The photographer was taking pictures from all angles, and Mr Lockhart nudged Harry, who was sporting a strained smile upon his still-blushing face. After the photographer had used up all his film, Harry tried to make his way back through the crowd but Mr Lockhart grabbed him again and planted him firmly by his side.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, waving to the crowd.

“He’s speaking, Ginny, he’s speaking.. such a fine voice he has, and such feeling in it..” said Mum, who was practically keeling over with delight.

Mr Lockhart continued: “What an extraordinary moment this is! The perfect moment for me to make a little announcement I’ve been sitting on for some time!

“When young Harry here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, he only wanted to buy my autobiography – which I shall be happy to present him now, free of charge -”

The crowd clapped appreciatively and Mum tried desperately to catch Mr Lockhart’s eye. But he was too busy posing for the camera, striking poses.

“- he had no idea, that he would shortly be getting much, much more than my book, Magical Me. He and his school fellows will, in fact, be getting the real, magical me. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have great pleasure and pride in announcing that this September, I will be taking up the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of and Wizardry!”

Mum gasped in jealousy and surprise. She pulled me towards her. “Oh, Ginny, just think.. Mr Lockart HIMSELF at Hogwarts.. teaching your classes.. you’ll be breathing the same air as him, eating with him, sleeping in the same BUILDING as him.. oh, Ginny, you must take advantage of this incredible situation! Imagine.. that man’s autograph, written neatly on your every homework assignment.. you could make a fortune!”

“Save one for mum,” said Fred quietly.

After Harry found his arms being loaded down with an immense, boxed set of the works of Gilderoy Lockhart, he managed to find his way back to where I was standing. He dropped the books heavily into my new second-hand cauldron, saying, “You have these, I’ll buy my own…”

Suddenly, I heard a sneering voice say, “Bet you loved that, didn’t you, Potter?” I turned around to see a boy a few inches taller than me, with light blonde hair slicked back on his head, a few strands hanging down over his pointed, narrow nose and pale complexion. A smirk spread across his face as he continued: “Famous Harry Potter.. can’t even go into a bookshop without making the front page.”

I glanced at Harry, who was beginning to clench his fists. His jaw was set, and he was glaring at the boy with a look of utter annoyance on his face. I hadn’t any idea who this boy was, but the enjoyment on his face from getting Harry a bit mad was too much.

“Leave him alone, he didn’t want all that!” I felt Harry look at me with surprise. I couldn’t tell how he felt about my outburst, whether he was thankful for my support or wishing I hadn’t said anything. Probably the latter.. and he was probably wondering what I was doing, standing up for him to some person I didn’t even know. Great. Why don’t I think?

The boy’s cold, grey-blue eyes glanced at me with amusement, as he said lazily, “Potter, you’ve got yourself a girlfriend!”

I could feel my cheeks start to flush with embarrassment, and saw to my dismay that Harry was starting to redden as well. Ugh, I wish I hadn’t said anything.. ever! Ever! I’ve made a mess of it all! I admit, this boy was rather frightening. Not only was he completely horrid to Harry and myself, but just the way that he carried himself and talked was rather.. It was obvious he was just completely full of confidence, and didn't give a care about other people. I bet he was in Slytherin.

Ron and Hermione dumped their Lockhart sets next to my cauldron and stared at the boy, who was still sneering at me. Ron looked at the blonde with disgusted surprise. “Oh, it’s you. Bet you’re surprised to see Harry here, eh, Malfoy?”

I let out a small gasp of recognition, remembering how on the way to Gringotts we were talking about how dad wanted to get Lucius Malfoy for something.. was this boy his son? He looked about the same age as Ron.. they were all probably in the same year. I rarely have heard Ron speak in that tone of voice – obviously, this.. Malfoy was someone who my brother deeply hated. And in a few minutes, I found out why..

“Not as surprised as I am to see you in a shop, Weasley. I suppose your parents will go hungry for a month to pay for that lot,” he said icily, nodding towards the books leaning against my cauldron.

Ron’s face flamed as he dived towards Malfoy, and Harry and Hermione grabbed the tails of his jacket in order to stop Malfoy to be pummeled to the ground. I was too in shock to do anything. I couldn’t figure out who on earth this Malfoy guy thought he was, and why he hated my brother so much, and Harry too. I made a mental note to myself to stay away from him in Hogwarts. If he hated my brother so, he would probably hate me as well. And it's good to stay away from people that hate you, right? Seems like the right thing to do.

Heavens, I hope I do make good friends in Hogwarts! Of course, all my brothers have preceded me, and I'm sure they haven't left me some sort of awfully horrid reputation.. "All Weasleys are rude, awful, little brats". I'd never be able to make friends that way. Then again, Bill and Charlie were rather popular, and Percy IS a prefect. Fred and George get owls all the time at home. And Ron's friends with Harry Potter!

He watched Ron struggle with a smile playing on his face, and then looked up, startled, when my father’s voice said: “Ron! What are you doing? It’s mad in here, let’s go outside.”

Yet another cold voice broke out, and I turned towards the source. A tall, well-dressed man in dark silver and black robes was standing behind Malfoy. I only had to glance at them for a moment to tell that they were father and son. The elder had obviously passed on his glittering eyes and sleek blonde hair – and apparently, his dislike for my family.

“Well, well, well – Arthur Weasley.”

Ron stopped trying to get at the younger Malfoy, and he, Hermione, and Harry stared as dad colored in the cheeks and answered in a cold voice, addressing Mr Malfoy by name. “Lucius,” he said with a brief nod.

“Busy time at the Ministry, I hear. All those raids… I hope they’re paying you overtime?” Without waiting for dad to answer, he pushed me aside and reached into my cauldron, pulling out an extremely dirty copy of A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration. I’m sure with all my embarrassment, I was able to achieve a new shade of red previously unknown to wizardkind. I could call it Ginny Red! That would be rather cool!

“Obviously not,” continued Mr Malfoy. “Dear me, what’s the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don’t even pay you well for it? Pity there isn’t much money to be made in the Looking After Muggles department..”

Oops, I was wrong. Dad’s freckles were almost invisible on his cheeks, he had flushed so dark. Mum gasped at the look on dad’s face, and narrowly stopped Fred and George from pulling out their wands and hexing Mr Malfoy. Percy was standing next to mum, with a worried look on his face.

“We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy.”

“Clearly,” Mr Malfoy drawled. Hermione’s parents found their daughter, and were standing behind her with worried looks on their faces.

Mr Malfoy glanced at them disdainfully. “The company you keep, Weasley… and I thought your family could sink no lower -”

Dad leaped over my cauldron, sending it on its side as he flew towards Mr Malfoy. They landed heavily against a bookshelf, which spilt its contents (including Broken Balls: When Fortunes Turn Foul, Hairy Snout.. Human Heart, Saucy Tricks for Tricky Sorts, and He Flew Like A Madman) upon my father as he attempted to get Mr Malfoy in an evil looking headlock. I had a rather disloyal feeling of worry for dad – like I said before, he is NOT made for fighting. Mr Malfoy was w dad severely on the back with not only a rather cool black snake staff but also my Transfiguration book – Dad was yelping in pain, almost to the rhythm of Fred and George’s screams of “GET HIM, DAD!”. Mum had her hand over her mouth in horror, and quickly pulled me away, out of reach of their flailing limbs. The massive crowd inside of Flourish and Blotts backed away, knocking more shelves over. A copy of Encyclopaedia of Toadstools landed within dad’s reach and he started hitting Mr Malfoy anywhere he could.

All of a sudden, Mr Hagrid was back, wading easily through the crowd of people and pulling dad and Mr Malfoy apart. Dad was bleeding slightly from a cut lip and Mr Malfoy was sporting early signs of a bruised eye. He threw the Transfiguration book at me.

“Here, girl – take your book – it’s the best your father can give you..” I let out a cry of disbelief, and dad looked ready to tackle again. Mr Malfoy wriggled out of the grip of Mr Hagrid, and he and his son left.

Mum rushed to dad’s side, straightening his robes and fussing over him, while at the same time scolding him. “A fine example to set to your children… brawling in public… what Gilderoy Lockhart must’ve thought…”

And somehow we’re back to Lockhart.

***

When I got home from Diagon Alley, mum quickly set about preparing a Yorkshire Pudding and some roast beef and gravy. It was of course finished rather quickly with the help of mum's cooking magic, and we soon settled down round the table. Percy was rather excited about what he was going to accomplish this year in school, and mentioned one of his fellow prefects, Penelope Clearwater from Ravenclaw, a lot. Dad toasted to me, and stressed that I was to do all I could to get in Gryffindor. After we all got into the meal, Fred and George engaged Ron and Harry in conversation and mum and dad discussed life after Hogwarts with Percy. I sat there, twiddling my thumbs. I had a strange twist of jealousy of Harry. Usually, I'm the one talking to Ron. Have never been so bored at the dinner table before. And as soon as I tried to say something, mum would shush me quietly, and go back to discussing the best Universities for Percy, and recommending that he talked to Bill and Charlie about it. After we had finished, no one made any excuse to leave the table or introduce me into their conversation. It was.. different. Of course, I had no right to start whining about it. I was eleven, not ten, after all.

Finally, mum reminded me that we leave for Hogwarts in 5 days (SO excited!) so I went upstairs to start packing my trunk. I could hear Ron and Harry making all sorts of noise upstairs in his room - it sounded as though trunks were being shoved against the wall, and several large objects were being thrown into them. I do think I heard Hedwig squawk in surprise, once. Hopefully, they hadn't thrown her in as well.

I was going through all the things we had bought earlier that day, among with hand-me-downs from the basement, when I came across this diary. It was tucked in neatly inside my Transfiguration book, and had the inscription “1942: T. M. Riddle” on the front. That means the diary is fifty years old! Although it had an address on the back that was not from Diagon Alley, I was sure it had been magically charmed, as it was found inside my Transfiguration book.

Flipping through the pages, I noticed that there wasn’t any writing in it. Hmm.. a bit funny.. a diary this old, without any writing in it? I suppose I had better tell mum or dad about it. I don't remember paying for it. Perhaps someone just left it in when they sold it to the second-hand store.

Well, I don’t have a diary! I can use it.