Outside

Ginny Weasley knew she was destined to always be on the fringes. She'd never had any close friends and even though she knew her family all cared about her, nobody was really interested in what she was doing. Who wanted to hear about Snape peevishly giving her two weeks of detention for adding the wrong ingredient at the wrong time and making shrinking solution instead of fertilizer for Madame Pomfrey? Nobody--not when they could be listening to Ron's fantastic tale about how he and Harry and Hermione defeated Voldemort yet again.

As far as Ginny was concerned, it was getting a little tiring. Couldn't they just defeat Voldemort for good, vanquish him, and end this?

When Ginny was a child, she'd dream about saving the world. Now Ron actually got to do it. Just one more thing in a neverending list of what was unfair about her life.

She knew her parents were good people. She didn't hold it against them that she was the seventh child, so by the time she came along, they'd seen everything. Nothing she could do was really interesting, even to her. And her brothers loved her, she knew, and they tried to involve her, but Bill and Charlie were off seeing the world and playing with dragons and breaking curses, Percy was working with Dad at the Ministry, Fred and George were busy with their joke shop, and Ron had to save the world. Daily.

Hermione knew, understood what it was like to be the odd one out. She too was caught between houses--the brilliant minds in Ravenclaw and the loyal, brave Gryffindors. She too had spent her early life with people who were mostly disinterested in her experiences. She'd confided in Ginny--although only once--that her parents were so interested in each other, in being dentists, that they often forgot she was around. She'd meant to make Ginny feel better, but Ginny had only felt worse. After all, Hermione was growing up to live Ginny's dream: she was saving the world.

Ginny guessed that was why she'd had such a crush on Harry when she was younger. He was handsome and smart and almost a superhero to the Wizarding world. Well, that was over, certainly. If she was dating Harry Potter, some of the attention he always got would rub off on her, surely, and then she wouldn't be sitting on the sidelines anymore.

#

Hermione wasn't Head Girl. Ginny'd been rather surprised at that--and so had everyone else. What was going on? Head Girl was a short and quiet Ravenclaw who'd consistently come in third behind Hermione and Draco in most of their classes last year. Ginny figured it was all for the best, because Hermione mostly spent her time with her face stuck in a book.

Their seventh year was the only year Voldemort didn't come up with some weird and outlandish scheme to regain his power. Ginny speculated at the dinner table once that it was because he was doing Hermione a favor, letting her study for her NEWTs. Her mother'd thrown a dish towel over her face and run from the room, and her father had shifted uncomfortably, but nobody told her what was going on.

What a shock. Out of the loop again.

After Christmas vacation, Ginny began skipping meals, avoiding people. If she had to sit on the sidelines, it was going to be on her own terms. She went down to the kitchens and the house elves cheerfully fed her. Dobby taught her to knit, and she spent her free time curled up in the Prefects' Lounge, knitting socks for the house elves. She figured she might as well--no matter how hard she studied, it never made a difference. Average Wizard, average life, average grades.

The last day of her sixth year, Ron and Harry and Hermione disappeared. Ron showed up again looking flushed and triumphant three days later: he and Harry had placed in the Chudley Cannons. Harry was first string, Ron second. Apparently, everyone had known they'd be trying out, but nobody had told Ginny. She thought about asking where Hermione was, but did it really matter?

After a celebratory dinner in Hogsmeade, Ginny left her parents and Ron and Harry to their butterbeers, and she went off to buy more yarn. Why bother trying to be more involved? It was a lost cause, and she'd given up.

#

She'd never noticed before just how close to Knockturn Alley her preferred yarn store was. It sold mostly Muggle yarn, made from actually taking the fur off sheep and twisting it into threads, and twisting those thin threads into thicker threads. They also had a bunch of Muggle books there, with still pictures and thick black type, all about other types of yarn work and crafts. Muggles knit, she discovered, using their hands and long pointed sticks that looked a lot like wands, but were usually made of hollow metal.

She decided to try her hand at it, and discovered she was quite good. She left the store still knitting with those weird Muggle knitsticks (Needles, she reminded herself. The Muggles call them knit needles.). That was the day she realized that if she left the yarn store and turned left instead of right, she was in Knockturn Alley.

And she liked it. It was dark and gloomy and everything faded into corners, and you couldn't find anything unless you were looking for it. She pulled the hood of her robes up to cover her bright Weasley hair, and wandered around, watching people, discovering interesting things she'd never known--like, Hagrid spent a lot of time in the Dark Creatures shop, fondling scary-looking creatures with weird names, and Professor Snape drank more than she'd ever thought. Of course, if she had to teach Potions, she'd drink too, she suspected.

She went every day, and sat in a dark niche between a potions store and... something. She wasn't quite sure what it was, but she recognized many of the faces going in. Dark Wizards, for some reason she didn't understand, didn't feel the need to hide their identity from each other. Students, professors, Ministry officials... Sometimes she felt queasy watching people she never suspected stalk around with their robes flapping and their faces set in grim lines. Some of them might have been spies for Dumbledore or the Ministry, but she bet most of them were just evil.

Or not. Not evil. Maybe they were like her, and grey, and fading away from the normal Wizarding world while nobody paid attention.

#

"Look, Father. I found us a pet."

Ginny was being unceremoniously hauled to her feet by a cruel hand. She lifted her head and stared her captor in the face. Goyle the son, and behind him, Goyle the father.

"It's a weasel!" the son said to the father triumphantly.

The father, who looked exactly like the son would look in thirty years, sneered. Ginny had seen Lucius Malfoy sneer--more than once--and this was a pale imitation. Ginny had met Voldemort on more than one occasion; Goyle was no match for that. She tossed her head back, letting the hood of her robe fall off.

"Did you want something?" She tried to make her voice as imperious as possible, and directed her question toward the elder rather than the younger. She still hadn't worked up the nerve to go into the bookstore with all the Dark Arts books, and was now regretting it. She could use a good hex for this situation--and it was unlikely that the Ministry's people would notice a student using a wand in a place like this.

Did I just wish I could do Dark magic? she wondered, and pushed the thought aside for later examination.

"We would never want something from you, weasel." Goyle the younger took out his wand. "Except some entertainment."

Ginny's heart was racing but she just raised one eyebrow. There was no point in having hysterics--either he'd cast a curse or not, and if he did, she figured the odds were even that it would go awry somehow. "Please. You're going to hex me right here in the middle of the street? Even you cannot possibly be that dimwitted."

Goyle the elder frowned. "We don't have time for this. If you want to keep her, it would cause all sorts of problems for us. She may be a Mudblood-lover, but her father--"

"Her father, my father, Crabbe's father, Draco's father! How come I can't do what I want?" Goyle the younger stomped his foot and Ginny had to suppress giggles. "Lord Voldemort promised that if I--"

Goyle the elder ignored Ginny's presence, grabbing his son by the arm and dragging him away, whispering furiously. Ginny rolled her eyes and pulled her hood back up, but it was too late. The scene had drawn a crowd and now people were looking over at her.

Bollocks. Hagrid.

"Well, now, Ginny Weasley! What are you doing here? Get lost on your way to buy your books for this year?" Hagrid peered down at her, and even though she wanted to scowl, she forced a smile and craned her neck to look up at him.

"I was--"

"She was meeting me." Severus Snape swooped in between them. "I was unavoidably detained."

Hagrid's mouth dropped open, and Ginny was sure her face wore a similar expression of surprise.

"Ginny will be helping me with some particularly volatile potions this year," Snape was explaining. He grabbed her arm, the same place Goyle did, but his fingers were longer, and stronger, and they dug into her skin. She was going to have a hard time explaining those bruises--if anyone noticed them.

"Oh, well." Hagrid shifted his weight from one foot to another. "Well, then, Professor, best be on with it. It's not wise for Miss Weasley to be seen in a place like this for too long." Hagrid looked meaningfully at Ginny, but she only smiled back at him. A real smile this time.

"I'll see you in a few weeks, Hagrid," Ginny called over her shoulder, as Snape dragged her away, down the street.

Her head whipped around when they turned a corner, and banged painfully into the wall Snape shoved her against. He'd brought them into an alleyway, even deeper into the shadows.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked in a low voice. "What in Hades are you doing sitting in Knockturn Alley reading a bloody book?"

"I was just... I was..." Ginny fumbled for an answer. What was she supposed to say? I'm bored and lonely, Professor, and nobody ever notices me. I thought I would sit in a corner here, because everyone else here is ignored too. I feel like I belong. Somehow Ginny felt that whatever Snape's true affiliation, Dark or Light, he wouldn't appreciate that answer much.

"Well, Miss Weasley? I'm waiting." His arms were folded across his chest and he was looking down at her with those black eyes. The Snape was what the students called it, and laughed when someone tried to imitate him. Professor Sprout tried to do The Snape today. Ahahah!

He was so condescending, so sure she had no idea what she was doing. Ginny's temper suddenly flared. "What the bloody hell did you think you're doing? Dragging me off like that? Making a scene? Telling Hagrid I'd be working with you this year? Where do you get off doing that? It's summer vacation, Professor--" Ginny did her best to sneer, but knew it wasn't even as good as Goyle's; she'd have to start practicing. "--and I can do whatever I want, whether or not it's something you approve of."

"You are a foolish child and you have no idea what you are playing at." He clenched his jaw. "There are dangerous things happening here and you should be at home with your parents, safe."

"No place is safe. And I'm not a child. I'm going into my seventh year, and then I am going to graduate, and I am going to be free. I'm going to leave England and find a place where nobody has ever bloody heard of Lord fucking Voldemort." Ginny realized she was almost screaming, but couldn't stop. "I'm sick of this war and I'm sick of every Wizard in the British Wizarding world. You're all so arrogant and righteous, and you all thing you're doing what's best. Well, nobody can do anything but that, whether people are dying or not, and I'm bloody well bored with it."

She paused to take a breath, and he broke in. "I'm sorry, Miss Weasley. You think everyone should stop what they're doing and rearrange their lives because you're bored?"

"Yes. And in addition to that, I think you should leave me alone and let me do as I please, and if I get myself killed, it's just one less body to give detention to in Potions this year. So bugger off." Ginny wrenched her arm out of Snape's grasp and walked out of the alley.

As she walked out of Knockturn Alley and into Diagon, her knees began to shake. Did I really just say that to Snape? Oh, Brigid, I'm in for it now. He's going to make my life hellish this year. And no Harry or Ron or Hermione or Draco to distract him. Snape hadn't found anyone else in Ginny's year to torment, so he mostly focused on her because she was a Weasley. His class was the only one she had to try to be ignored in.

She walked quickly to a public Floo and went home. There was no point in hanging about now that everyone knew she was there. The best she could hope for would be that nobody would tell her father she'd been curled up in a corner of Knockturn Alley, watching people walk by.

#

"Miss Weasley?" Ginny looked up from the knit needles she and Dobby were bent over to see Professor McGonagall standing behind her, looking somber. "Headmaster Dumbledore would like to have a word with you."

Ginny gathered up her yarn and excused herself. Dobby barely noticed she was leaving, so intent he was on the multi-colored yarn and the pointy needles. She followed McGonagall quickly and silently through the castle, up circular staircases and through portrait holes, until they reached Dumbledore's office. Ginny had only been there twice before, but everything was exactly as she remembered, right down to Dumbledore's password being a sweet. This time it was "lemon bundt," said in McGonagall's stiff Scots accent.

"Miss Weasley! Thank you for coming so promptly. Would you care for a lemon drop?" Dumbledore leaned over his desk, a small tin of the Muggle sweet open in his hand.

"No thank you, sir." She backed up into a chair and sat down.

"I suppose you know why you're here?"

Ginny couldn't be sure, but it looked as though Dumbledore was smiling under all that beard.

"No, I don't have a clue." Except I do. She sighed silently. Now I'm finally going to get in trouble for spending more than half my summer skulking about Knockturn.

"Hm. Professor Snape tells me that you've agreed to help him concoct certain Potions this year. He seemed certain you already knew about it." Dumbledore leaned over his desk. "I personally think this is a wonderful idea. Your parents were both hopeless at Potions, and I couldn't be happier that you're breaking the Weasley tradition."

"Uh."

"However, we'll have to make sure you have time to study for your NEWTs, and still get all your homework done. So I'm going to let Professor Trelawny know that you'll no longer be attending Divination." Dumbledore sat back and popped another lemon drop into his mouth. "I also wanted..."

"Yes?" Ginny prompted, scowling.

"I just... it seems very outlandish to me, Miss Weasley. I think someone is trying to slander you in a peculiar way."

Here it comes.

"I've been told you were seen, more than once, in Knockturn Alley this summer." He stroked his beard. His eyes never left hers. "I stood up for you vehemently, but the witness was absolutely certain it was you. Is there... anything you wish to discuss?"

Ginny bit her lip. More than once, the trouble Ron, Harry, and Hermione had found themselves in could have been quickly and easily avoided had they just trusted Dumbledore and let him help. She had several times rolled her eyes at how silly they were for shutting him out when they needed him the most, and had sworn that should she ever have the opportunity, she would make full use of him and his predisposition toward her family.

Here was her chance.

"Actually, it wasn't slander. I was in Knockturn Alley. I spent most of my summer there, sitting in a corner, watching people." She paused and cleared her throat, thinking Dumbledore would have something to say to that, but he only waited. She could hear the sounds of him sucking on his lemon drop, the ruffle of his Phoenix's feathers, the utterly still echoes air one always found in places with stone walls. "Um. You know, of course, that I'm the seventh Weasley."

"Yes..." He took yet another lemon drop, his lips pursing at the sour taste, but his eyes were still on hers.

"I... I'm always ignored, you know. Always on the outside. I have no close friends, and even though my parents love me, I'm not special to them the way my brothers are."

"Miss Weasley, I am sure your parents love all of you equally."

"Please don't, Headmaster. We are both aware that this is not a perfect world," she snapped, then bit her lip. What was wrong with her? First Snape, now Dumbledore? What was next--illegally learning to be an Animagus? Doing Dark magic on Hogwarts' grounds?

"I'm sorry. Please continue."

"Iwanttobeaspy," she said hurriedly.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm perfect, sir. I've already been seen in Knockturn Alley, people must already be speculating about me. Nobody ever notices me, not unless someone brings attention to me. I can blend in. I'm good at hexing and dueling, and even though I'm only seventeen, that will work in my favor, because nobody will ever suspect the youngest Weasley of anything and--"

"All right."

"--and I know--what?"

"I said yes, Miss Weasley. Do you realize how dangerous and difficult this will be? Have you thought this through?"

"You aren't going to try to talk me out of this?"

"Miss Weasley, some people may call me the fool behind my back, but I am not stupid. You are already fading into the grey area between the Dark and the Light. Contrary to what you believe, you are noticed. There are those of us who always notice when the Sorting Hat asks a student to choose between Gryffindor and Slytherin. For what it's worth, I think you made the right decision, but now you're paying the price. You are an outsider, and outsiders always walk the line between doing what is truly right and doing what is only good for them. I would not have you falling through and ending up on the wrong side."

Ginny swallowed hard. Her face felt hot. Her eyes burned. She'd expected Dumbledore to try to talk her out of it, not to tell her he'd been expecting this.

"I..." She trailed off, broke the connection between their eyes, stared at her hands. When she reached puberty, her freckles had begun to fade, but there was still one on the back of her hand. "I know it will be hard. I know it won't be fun. I probably won't even be able to help much--maybe not even at all. But I'm worried--this summer--"

"If you sit back and do nothing, you will end up doing the wrong thing." Dumbledore finished her thoughts accurately, and she nodded. "And you don't want to end up supporting Voldemort out of bitterness or spite, working against what you know to be the right thing to do because you think the Light has shunned you. Miss Weasley, I understand your predicament all too well. Do you think you are the first student of mine to come to me and ask for this?"

"Wh--"

"I can't tell you. You know that." Dumbledore seemed to hesitate before continuing. "Ginny. I have already told you this is dangerous. I do not think I can accurately inform you of just how dangerous it really is. The Killing Curse would be an easy death compared to the one Voldemort would inflict on you, should he find out that you are working against him. Do you understand that you will be shunned by your family, by your house? You may have to take the Dark Mark. You may be asked to do distasteful things, to use your femininity as a weapon, to--"

"Sir." Ginny's voice was quiet, but determined, her eyes hardening. Dumbledore watched her face change, she saw it. She was reaching down inside herself, finding that Weasley core of steel, the one she knew she had to have, but never got to use. "I will do what is necessary to expedite the end of this war, to make sure it ends in our favor."

Dumbledore studied her face a moment, then nodded, and ate another lemon drop. "I expected as much," he replied, more cheerfully than she'd expected. "Professor Snape did tell me I underestimated your determination and I am happy to report that he's right. He will explain the rest, introduce you to the right Dark Wizards and all that. He will be your contact, the one you go to with information, unless you have the opportunity to come to me with information safely, without suspicion. It's helpful that you're still in Hogwarts, although it will become difficult next year... But I have a plan for that. All in good time. Well, off with you. Down to the dungeons."

Ginny stood, twisting her fingers in the folds of her robe. "I won't let you down, Headmaster."

"I should say not. One can always trust a Weasley to keep their word."

Ginny nodded and turned to leave.

"One other thing, Miss Weasley..." Dumbledore waited until she turned back around. "You will only have a few months at the most to change your mind about this. Be sure to let me know if you decide it's something you can't do, because there are places you may go to, and once you've gone you cannot turn back without putting yourself and many other people in danger."

Ginny nodded curtly, and left Dumbledore's office. She wouldn't change her mind. This was what she needed--the chance to make the most of herself, to do something other than watch everyone else and envy their purpose. She hadn't expected to confess to Dumbledore that she wanted to be a spy; she wasn't even sure that she really did. But she might as well--it would be something to do. She'd get to learn Dark magic and do things she'd only fantasized about... and she wouldn't have to worry about slipping away and disappearing into a world where Wizarding law didn't apply.

Except that was exactly what she was doing, becoming a spy. Becoming a spy! Who was she fooling? She had to be completely nutters, as Ron would say, to even consider doing this. What would her parents say? What if she couldn't pull it off--she'd disgrace the Weasley name. They didn't have much, but they had honor, and if she tarnished it, it would just kill her parents.

And Ron. The best friend of the Boy Who Lived's sister going to the Dark side. Even if she really wasn't, nobody who mattered would know that.

And what if she decided she wanted to stay there? Could she cross Dumbledore? Could she go over to Voldemort?

No. She snorted to herself, the sound echoing as she walked through the halls to Professor Snape's office. She could never. Dark magic might become addictive after a time, but she and Voldemort just didn't share the same values system. Her snort became a chuckle as she thought of the conversation she would have with him. She still pictured him looking like Tom Riddle, who looked a bit like Harry with his dark hair and pale skin.

"Tom," she'd say, "this just won't work. We're too different. Sure, we both like Killing Curses and other nasty sorts, but you hate Muggles and I think they're kind of neat. After all, they have television and telephones and better music. No, this is for the best, dear. Opposites attract but similarities endure."

"Miss Weasley, would you care to share the joke?" Ginny looked up, and there was Snape, black robes, black eyes, black glare.

"No, Professor."

He didn't say anything else, just turned around and led her down the hallway, away from the Potions classroom and his offices.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"Did you think the only place to brew potions was in a classroom?" he replied.

"No, but I thought--a project?" She noticed she didn't have to rush to keep up with him, and realized with a jolt that despite his imposing presence, she was almost as tall as him.

"A dangerous project, one we are not going to do where any fluff-headed Hufflepuff can stumble across it and knock it over, nor where any brave and courageous Gryffindor can sniff it, nor where any Slytherin can try to use it on one of their classmates, nor where any Ravenclaw can figure out what's in it." Snape did not turn his head to glance at her while he was speaking, which Ginny knew because rather than watch where she was walking, she was watching him. He didn't look angry or annoyed to her. He looked... anxious. Almost excited. How strange.

"What we are doing," Snape continued, "is something that will require concentration and dedication and quick reaction times. While I had doubts that a Gryffindor would be able to accomplish something like this--" "Hermione would have been able to," interrupted Ginny. Whoops. Already off on a bad foot. Although, is there really any other foot to be on with Snape unless you're a Slytherin? "--the Headmaster tells me that you were nearly sorted into Slytherin." He took no notice of her interjection. "Perhaps you will not be entirely hopeless after all."

He stopped short in front of what seemed to Ginny to just be a solid stone wall. She knew better, though--there were plenty of plain-looking walls in Hogwarts that hid things, plain-looking doors that led to places better left unentered...

"Watch carefully. You will have to do this without me sometimes." Snape took out his wand and tapped three times on the stone that was level with his nose. "Inio calinosus."

Ginny nodded and followed him into the dark.