Ginny Weasley and the Heirs of Darkness

Chapter Three: Once More Unto Diagon Alley

"You'll never get rid of them just by glaring, lovely girl," Ginny's mirror teased.

She had been standing in front of it for over half an hour now, wishing her freckles on someone else. Why, why did she have to have the characteristic Weasley freckles? The pale roses-and-cream complexion was fine; part of her wished she tanned like Hermione, that lovely bronze color that seemed to earn so many compliments, but the rest of her liked the milky shade of her skin. It was delicate, feminine, and a little ethereal.

And she'd come to terms with her red hair. It helped her stand out in a crowd, as long as that crowd wasn't at the Annual Weasley Family Picnic. It was a long, straight river of flame, and all she had to do was wash it, and it looked perfect.

Her big, dark, coffee-tone eyes were her favorite feature. Widely spaced and framed by thick black lashes, they were the one thing about herself she wouldn't alter in the slightest. But freckles! There was nothing, in Ginny's opinion, redeeming about the light smattering of spots that dotted her nose. Granted, they weren't as pronounced as Ron's, or as numerous as Charlie's. But they were still there, and they annoyed Ginny all out of proportion to their tiny size.

"Well, have you any suggestions?" she snapped irritably, ignoring the mirror's compliment. "They're awful."

The mirror chuckled. "Only you seem to think so. Someday you'll find a boy who thinks they're adorable," it advised, sounding oddly motherly.

A blush bloomed on Ginny's pale cheeks, casting the hated freckles in pink shadow. Harry hadn't made any comment on the freckles one way or another. But did that mean that he hadn't noticed? They had spent an awful lot of time with their faces close together lately, she mused, blush deepening to a pretty shade of crimson. So how could he have missed them?

But if he liked them, he would have said so. Harry was very forthcoming with his compliments. Which meant, Ginny decided, he must hate her freckles, and was just afraid to tell her. Ergo, they needed to be spelled away.

She sighed. Her mother would have fits if she noticed. Ginny had been strictly told to avoid cosmetic spells- if they went awry, they could be disastrous, and very expensive to fix. (She remembered all too well the case of poor Eloise Midgen, who had accidentally knocked off her own nose in an attempt to be rid of some acne). But the freckles still had to go. Nervously pointing her wand at her face, Ginny murmured, "Specklus reversus."

"Ginny! Harry! Post for both of you from Hogwarts!"

Ginny jumped, startled, and the spell shot across the room, crashing into the footboard of her bed. It was now covered with pink and purple polka dots. She groaned. The bed had been Mrs. Weasley's when she was a child, and the wood was antique- how was she going to cover that one up? Temporarily tossing an afghan over the end of the bed, Ginny tucked her wand into her skirt's waistband and clambered down the stairs, wondering why she and Harry would be getting mail from Hogwarts this close to the beginning of term.

"Mum, are you sure it's a Hogwarts owl?" Ginny started to ask, but the sight in the kitchen left her no doubts. Two huge, gorgeous owls were preening in the windowsill, leaning contentedly into Molly Weasley's scratching fingers. Each held letters written on creamy Hogwarts stationery, and Ginny recognized Minerva McGonagall's signature green ink and upright script.

"Yes, I'm sure, Ginny, I'm not so old that I can't read," Mrs. Weasley teased gently, handing Ginny her letter and giving the owl a treat. "There you go, then, dear, what does it say?"

Ginny flipped the letter over. Like the other three missives she'd received from Hogwarts (her letter of admission, her congratulatory Quidditch team letter, and her prefect's assignment letter), this one was sealed with the Hogwarts crest in heavy, expensive wax. But this one also had another seal, McGonagall's private seal: a cat and a lion curled comfortably together, with the words "Deputy Headmistress" on top and "Head of Gryffindor House" on the bottom. In red ink, Professor McGonagall had also scrawled "Private" in bold capitals. Ginny's stomach tumbled with butterflies- she was fairly certain a personal letter from McGonagall could only mean one of two things. Had she gotten in, or hadn't she?

"Can't say, Mum," Ginny replied breathlessly, having an inkling of what the letter contained. Hugging the letter to her chest, she slipped out the back door, ignoring her mother's protests.

The treefort was the ideal place to read this letter. Ginny discovered, to her surprise, that her heart was pounding wildly. Settling herself comfortably among the heaps of brightly colored pillows that coated the floor of the treehouse, she just stared at the outside of the envelope for a moment.

Miss Virginia Weasley

Bedroom on the Third Landing

The Burrow

Ottery St. Catchpole, Devon

Careful not to rip the pretty seals, Ginny slit the envelope open with her nail, the buttery paper melting open under slight pressure. The letter tumbled out and fell into her lap.

Dear Miss Weasley, it began cordially, I am pleased to inform you that, of all the applicants, you have been chosen for my special Animagicks class. I felt that the reasons you listed in your application were more than sufficient, and I am pleased with the thought you put into them, as well as the care you used in choosing your three possible animals. I believe they all have merit, and time permitting, we can perhaps discuss them further when you arrive in two days for your prefect training. Congratulations on that, by the way, and I also look forward to watching you exercise your Keeper's skills on the Quidditch pitch. Until next week,

Sincerely,

Professor Minerva McGonagall

Trying to suppress a squeal of delight, Ginny pressed a bright blue pillow to her face. She was to learn how to become an Animagus from Professor McGonagall. Of all the people who had applied- and she had heard that there were many- McGonagall had chosen her, Ginny Weasley! To say she was thrilled was an understatement; she had desperately wanted to work on this project, certain it would help her be accepted into Auror Training School after she graduated from Hogwarts. She could hardly wait to tell Fiona and Bronwen... and Harry! She looked down at the letter again, wanting to re-read it, be certain of its authenticity, when she noted a post script at the bottom.

P.S. Miss Weasley, do not forget that this information must not be shared with anyone. If you wish to train in this manner, you must keep it a strict secret from everyone, including Misses Wolfswaite and Zabini and Mr. Potter.

Ginny's jaw dropped as she read the last line. How on earth did McGonagall know who her close friends were? She sighed, disappointed. She knew it had to be kept a secret, but she did everything with Fiona and Bronwen- how was she going to slip off to private lessons unnoticed? And now that she had Harry to worry about, too....

Her heart did a little flip-flop. Harry. The past week with him had been so lovely, she almost didn't want to leave for the three days of prefects' training. Ron would be going, and Hermione, too, but not Harry. He planned to stay at the Burrow while they were gone, and help Fred and George with one of their many projects. She had been able to tell that he was a bit miffy about everyone being gone, but there was nothing she could do. After all, she hadn't asked to be a prefect. The letter had just come with the mail one day.

A muffled curse startled Ginny out of her reverie, and a few spikes of black hair poked through the hatch in the treehouse's floor. "Gin? You up here?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, I'm here," she replied, hurriedly stuffing her letter into the pocket of her skirt. Harry scrambled up the last rungs of the ladder, sucking on his thumb.

"Splinter," he explained at her odd expression. "Ladder's been getting overused lately, I guess." He winked, and Ginny smiled fondly, willing herself not to blush. She and Harry had been sneaking into the treefort rather often in the past week.

"Is it stuck in your finger?" she asked.

"Nah. Just cut it a little." He flopped comfortably onto the pillows next to her. "What are you doing up here, anyway? Your mum said you picked up your letter, then ran outside. It wasn't too hard to guess where you were."

Ginny grinned, her secret bubbling joyfully just under the surface. "Nothing," she said lightly.

"Nothing?" Harry mocked. "Come on, tell me what good ol' McGonagall had to say."

She shook her head, enjoying teasing him. The easy relationship they'd slipped into during recent days was almost exactly what she'd wanted. She felt a shiver of delight go up her spine. As a boyfriend, Harry was just precisely what she'd imagined. "No. You tell me what your letter said."

Harry's eyes darkened, and Ginny wished she hadn't asked. "It was nothing, Gin. Forget about it."

"Harry," she started, but he cut her off.

"Anyway, what I came up here to tell you was that your mum wants us to go to Diagon Alley this afternoon. There's a special sale at Flourish and Blott's, and she'd like you and Ron to get your supplies before you leave for prefects' training. I owled Hermione, and she promised to meet us in front of Gringott's at three." Hermione had left the Burrow two days before, and would spend time with her parents in London, with the exception of prefects training, until it was time to leave for the new term.

Ginny nodded. "That's nice," she returned blandly. She liked Hermione well enough, and the older girl had been nothing but nice to her, but Ginny could never entirely push away a vague sense of guilt when in Hermione's presence. She knew that the Chamber of Secrets had left its indelible mark on her; perhaps, she mused, it was why all of her good friends were purebloods? Ginny just felt a bit like she didn't deserve Hermione's trust.

Harry didn't seem to notice that his new girlfriend was once again lost in thought. "So we'll meet, get our supplies, then have some ice cream before we come back." He smiled, continuing. "And then you and I have two whole days before you have to Floo to Hogwarts." He leaned close to her, and she could smell his shampoo. It was clean and light, but she felt a bit choked suddenly. Harry could be very intense sometimes.

"Of course!" Ginny replied brightly, leaning away just a little. "How fun." It was a lame response, but she truly had no idea what he wanted her to say.

They heard the back door of the house slam, and then Ron's voice called out from the bottom of the ladder, "Hey! Harry, Gin, it's time to go!"

Suddenly eager to not be alone with Harry, and pained by that realization, Ginny slipped down the ladder, then waited patiently for Harry to lower himself down. She enjoyed him more when her brother was there- then she could see exactly the Harry she'd fallen for five years ago. She took his hand, pushing other thoughts away. Harry wasn't too intense, he just cared about her. She smiled up at him, and her heart did its familiar flutter when he smiled back.

Ron rolled his eyes, "Just disgusting, you two," he muttered, walking slightly ahead of them and finishing the ham and cheese sandwich he'd been eating. Ginny felt another warm flush; she could tell Ron was secretly pleased.

She chuckled and rolled her eyes at Harry. "And just who do you think you are to be saying that, Ron Weasley?" she mocked. Looking back at Harry with mischief in her eyes, she joked, "Oh, Hermione, it's just so good to see you. I swear, if I didn't have my mouth full of sandwich like a great big git, I'd drag you off into the garden and kiss you senseless."

"Oh, Ron," Harry squeaked in a brilliant imitation of Hermione's high soprano, "if only I didn't have so much reading to do. But, alas, Hogwarts: A History has gone into its second printing, and I just can't skip reading all of the new sections!"

Spluttering the last bite of his sandwich, Ron spun around, glaring at his friend and sister. "We arwe nwot like thwat!" he exclaimed, sending a piece of ham whizzing past Ginny's ear.

She rolled her eyes again, pushing him through the back door and into the kitchen. "Let's just go, shall we?"

Flooing uneventfully to the fireplace at the Leaky Cauldron, Ginny, Ron, and Harry made their way through the brick wall, down Diagon Alley, to the front of Gringott's bank. Mrs. Weasley had finally deemed them old enough to go into London on their own, "as long as you keep carefully to Wizarding London, and don't go anywhere near that frightful Knockturn Alley!"

Surprisingly, Hermione wasn't there yet, so Ron wandered off to Quality Quidditch Supplies, and Harry went into the bank to withdraw money, delegating Ginny to watch for Hermione. Left to do their work, typical, she thought sourly. It wasn't as if it was Ginny who had agreed to meet Hermione, after all! Seating herself on one of the marble benches outside Gringott's, she searched the milling wizard crowds for her brother's girlfriend. It was times like this Ginny wished Hermione had kept her hair full and bushy; it seemed as if half the people in Diagon Alley had chestnut tresses.

To her amazement, Ginny realized that it seemed as if the other half of the crowd had fiery red hair, as bright as her own. Resisting the odd urge to rub her eyes in disbelief, Ginny watched as an entire crew of extremely well-dressed redheaded witches and wizards pushed their way toward Ollivander's. Sneaking closer for a look, Ginny noticed that they were being led by one of the Leaky Cauldron house elves.

"There, sir and madam," the elf said to the adult mages at the front of the group, "this be's Ollivander's. Only place to gets a wand."

The tall, elegantly attired wizard nodded, giving the elf a Sickle for her trouble. "Thank you," he said coolly, voice lightly accented. Then he gestured at the shop and, saying something in French, glowered at his crowd of children, clearly looking for someone in particular. A boy about Ginny's age stepped forward.

Ginny frowned. French wizards? She hadn't seen any French wizards since the Beauxbatons delegation came to Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament in her third year, and she wondered what business these ones could possibly have at an English wand shop.

Before she could ponder that for any time, though, one of the pretty older girls had noticed her and pressed a large, bulky package into her hands, making some snide comment that Ginny didn't understand. "Comprehendus," Ginny murmured under her breath, wondering what on earth was going on- did they think she was part of their group? What was this, a Redheads' Convention?

"What did you say, Georgine?" asked the girl who had handed her the Madam Malkin's robes.

She knew how to make the French comprehensible, but the spell for actually speaking a foreign language was much more complex, and it wasn't magic she'd learned yet. So Ginny just shrugged mutely, wishing she knew why she felt compelled to play along, when she really ought to be getting back to Gringott's to wait for Hermione.

"You must be excited at the prospect of having a wand again," one of the other girls, who wasn't as pretty but had an air of quirky intelligence, commented to Ginny. "I know it's only been two weeks, but I can't even imagine." She rolled her eyes. "Barbaric, really."

Ginny could only smile and nod. The other girl- Georgine's sister?- continued blithely, not noticing Ginny's silence. Maybe Georgine wasn't the talkative type. "Frédéric is going to be in there with father forever, anyway. Remember that ice cream parlor we spotted on the way here? Let's go there." She eyed her "sister's" robes. "Ugh, Georgine, what is that you're wearing? Hopefully they'll have someplace you can change as well."

She nudged the first girl. "Eliane? We're going to get ice cream, and Georgine's going to change her robes. Want to come?" Ginny almost slumped in relief; if Eliane came, she wouldn't have to carry on any kind of conversation- she could just let the two older girls chat with each other. She knew she shouldn't be playing along with the ruse; what if the real Georgine stumbled across them? But she couldn't help her curiosity, and if she could sneak free ice cream out of the deal, so much the better. It certainly beat waiting outside of Gringott's for Hermione, and maybe for once Ginny would be the one having the adventures. Besides, she wanted to know a little more about this girl who must look so much like herself.

The three girls entered Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, and the oldest girl, whose name Ginny had learned from snippits of conversation was Delphine, went to the counter and ordered for the three of them, while Eliane sought a table and Ginny slipped into the restroom to change.

She had never handled such exquisite robes in her entire life. They were still ostensibly Hogwarts robes, but Ginny had never seen Hogwarts robes that had been modified to within an inch of their lives like these ones. They were standard black, but they were a gorgeous, heavy silk, and they had been lined with a soft, liquidy velvet that was sheer heaven to the touch. The uniform pullover was cashmere instead of wool, as was the black skirt, and the white button-down was a linen and silk blend.

Digging deeper in the Madam Malkin's box, Ginny wondered what other treasures lay inside. Her eyes widened in jealous disbelief. Satin dress robes in a deep, spectacular purple, white lambswool hat and mittens, black linen trousers and several more beautiful cashmere pullovers, a black sheath skirt, gray wool trousers, and an array of crisp button-down shirts. Without a second thought, Ginny removed her own clothes, which were plain, everyday cotton, and slid delightedly into the trousers and one of the shirts. The clothes were really too heavy to wear in late August, but she didn't care. Ginny felt like a queen.

Never before had she been so smartly attired. Part of her brain admonished that she would have to return the outfit, but the other part suggested snidely that if Georgine's family could afford one set of clothes like this, they could likely afford another.

Joining Eliane and Delphine at the table, Ginny dug into the ice cream Delphine had ordered for her- a triple of walnut, cherry mint and lemon swirl; not what she'd have chosen for herself, but still delicious- and tried to piece together information from the conversation. Unfortunately, the girls were less than helpful. They seemed more interested in criticizing every aspect of British wizarding culture, and it was all Ginny could do to stop herself from slugging them both.

She was about to stand up and mime the need for a second visit to the toilet when the door to the restaurant swung open, and in strode Lucius and Draco Malfoy. Ginny groaned internally. Draco wasn't her favorite person, but she didn't hate him the way Ron and Harry did; in fact, though he would likely have killed her if he knew, she felt a little bit sorry for him. Certainly it couldn't be easy, growing up in the environment Ginny imagined existed at Malfoy Manor. No wonder he was such a horror.

But Lucius, he made Ginny's blood run cold, and little quivers of adrenaline jolted through her as her gaze fell on him. She didn't hate him, either, or at least, it wasn't precisely hate. Her emotions concerning him were far more complex than that. There was an element of hatred, to be sure, but it was combined with an odd mixture of confusion, curiosity and a strange desire to know everything going on inside his sinister mind; the man was like a living font of Dark Arts information.

To Ginny's surprise, the two Malfoys strode directly to the table the three girls occupied. Draco's handsome face twisted into a smug smirk, and he commented snidely, "Speaking French, and with red hair and designer robes? You must be part of the Belleton family." Ginny sucked in a sharp gasp of air, marveling at her luck. Not only had Draco not recognized her, he'd just fed her a useful tidbit of information about her newfound "friends." She couldn't help raising one eyebrow at his comment, though- what was Malfoy, anyway, a walking "Purple Pages of the Pureblood Wizarding World?" Hastily, she suppressed a giggle.

Eliane looked up at the two men, a delicate smile playing at her lips. "We are. You must be Mr. Malfoy?" she asked, directing the comment at Lucius. He nodded curtly, his eyes, Ginny realized, firmly on herself. She shivered slightly. Surely he didn't recognize her for who she really was...? Next question- what was this French family doing, meeting with the likes of the Malfoys? Especially in a place like Florean Fortescue's?

"I am," Lucius replied coldly, steely gaze not leaving Ginny's face. Trying to conceal her edginess, she maintained eye contact, playing the role of the confident aristocratic witch. "And this is my son, Draco." Draco nodded at the three girls.

"I'm Eliane," was the rapid reply, accompanied by another simpering smile in Draco's direction, "and this is my older sister, Delphine, and my younger sister, Georgine."

"Pleased to meet you," Ginny said carefully, hoping her English didn't sound too much more fluent than Eliane's.

The corners of Lucius's mouth quirked into the tiniest of chilly smiles. "The same, I'm sure," he replied smoothly, his gaze finally drifting away from Ginny. Whatever he had been searching for in her eyes, she hoped he hadn't found it. "We're a bit early, but we saw you through the window," he continued, answering one of Ginny's unspoken questions. "I assume your parents are nearby?"

Delphine nodded, taking charge. "They're getting a wand for Frédéric, but they must be done by now; I'm sure it's Georgine's turn." Blithely taking Lucius's proffered arm, she led the group out of the parlor and toward Ollivander's, chatting comfortably with Lucius. Eliane hung back at first, quite obviously intrigued by Draco, but the instant she learned he was a year younger than she, she hurried ahead to eavesdrop on Delphine's conversation, abandoning him with a less-than-thrilled Ginny.

Draco, though, could be quite pleasant when he wanted to be, particularly when faced with a pretty pureblood witch who was effectively a captive audience. Actually, Ginny was forced to admit, he was extremely personable. She sighed mentally, reluctantly giving credit where it was due- sometime since the first time she'd seen him, the pointy-faced blond ferret had grown into a frighteningly attractive young man. It was a cool, unattainable, Adonis-like handsome, though, she clarified hurriedly, not the warm and friendly sort of good-looking that Harry embodied. And Ginny certainly knew which type she preferred.

Didn't she?

"So, Georgine," Draco said lightly, exuding charm, "I heard you were expelled from Beauxbatons." He smiled. "That's a fairly impressive feat. But what made you choose Hogwarts as an alternative?" Draco leaned a bit closer to her. "I would have thought, with your family background, that you would have headed straight for Durmstrang."

Not knowing how to answer, Ginny dodged the question, gracing Draco with her best saucy smile. "Well, why are you at Hogwarts?" she asked playfully. Family background, she mused. Were the Belletons Dark wizards? They certainly didn't seem it, but appearances could be deceiving; and why else would they be meeting with the Malfoys?

He smiled back, and Ginny felt a strange heat in the pit of her stomach. Mentally, she groaned. Oh, just brilliant, Gin. You finally snag Harry, and then you have to turn around and decide you think Malfoy is attractive. Bloody well done. Bronwen will be rolling on the floor with laughter when she finds out. "My mother absolutely couldn't stand the idea of my being so far away," he said simply, grin turning conspiratorial. "I seem to have that effect on women."

Ginny's eyebrows shot toward her hairline, and she snickered. "Indeed," she returned with a smirk, enjoying the exchange. "I can tell you that I'm certainly smitten. The girls at Durmstrang are missing out. So," she continued, playing at coyness, "is there a lucky Hogwarts girl on whom you have a particular effect?" As far as Ginny was aware, Draco's family had arranged for him to date Pansy Parkinson, the daughter of another purported Death-Eater.

"No one in particular at the moment," Draco replied, deliberately copying her word choice. He raised an eyebrow at her. "But perhaps-"

Before he could finish whatever he was planning on saying, they had rejoined the rest of the Belleton family. Lucius and the tall French wizard immediately began discussing something, and Ginny wished she could stay to eavesdrop- and continue flirting with Draco, maybe?- but she needed to get back to Gringott's before her friends started to worry. Waiting until Draco was distracted by the commotion and his father's conversation, Ginny slipped into the small alley between Ollivander's and the little plant store next to it, breathing deeply. She'd done it! Virtually infiltrated a meeting of Dark Wizards, and it had been so easy!

She felt a small tug of disappointment, though. She hadn't really learned anything, and she'd foolishly spent most of the time she could have spent spying chatting with Draco sodding Malfoy instead! Ginny slumped slightly, hugging herself.

Alright, so it hadn't been a complete loss. Running her fingers over the soft fabric of her sleeves, Ginny reflected that the new clothes were absolutely to die for. She'd have to hide them until she left for Hogwarts, but she didn't care, and she didn't feel even a speck of guilt for keeping them. "After all," she whispered to herself, "I'd say I earned them."

Waiting until the Belleton/Malfoy group had wandered away, probably in the direction of Knockturn Alley, Ginny shrugged her old robes on over her new outfit, thankful that Diagon Alley was magically temperature-controlled, and headed back towards Gringott's. Sure enough, a very impatient trio was waiting for her, expressions frantic.

Unsurprisingly, it was the ever-observant Hermione who spotted her first. "Ginny!" she cried. "We've been just worried sick. Where have you been?" She squinted at the package Ginny was carrying. "Madam Malkin's?"

Ginny had completely forgotten about the box. Trust Hermione to be the one to notice an otherwise insignificant detail. Oh, well, it was as good of an excuse as any. "Yeah," she replied, "I've been saving my money all summer so I could get something new."

"Can I see?" the other girl asked. It was clear from her eager tone that she was desperate to divert the conversation topic away from Quidditch, which was what Ron and Harry had been discussing in between the occasional outburst of "bloody hell, where did Gin get to, anyway?"

"Um, maybe later," Ginny responded vaguely. Suppressing a grin of pure malice, she turned to her brother. "So, Ron, find anything at Quality Quidditch?"

Hermione groaned, and Ginny could hear Harry snicker. Already thrilled that he and his baby sister would be playing together for Gryffindor this term, Ron latched delightedly onto the subject. "You should see it, Gin," he nattered as they wove their way through the crowd toward Flourish and Blott's, "it's amazing. It's this tiny device you can attach to the handle of your broom, and it automatically makes you more aerodynamic, almost as if the broom wasn't carrying a rider!"

Taking Ginny's hand, Harry cut into the conversation. "And even though it will probably be banned from actual matches, wouldn't it be fun to get one, Gin? I mean, think of how fast you could move!" He frowned. "Watch the whole Slytherin team have them anyway, though," he continued dejectedly.

Ginny's frown matched Harry's. "I've owled with Bronwen, and she hasn't mentioned buying anything like that," she said slowly.

"As if she would tell you, Gin!" Ron exclaimed. "She might be your friend, but she's still a Slytherin." His facial expression showed that this final comment really explained everything.

Ginny bristled. "Well, granted, we don't share our teams' Quidditch strategies-"

"Good," Harry interrupted.

"But just because she's in Slytherin doesn't make Bronwen a cheater or a bad person," Ginny finished, tone icy, jaw set stubbornly. Hermione recognized it as the exact same face Ron made when he was feeling argumentative, and she groaned inwardly. They were not getting to the bookstore fast enough.

No surprise, Ron's jaw clenched as well. "I didn't say she was a bad person. It's just that her version of what is and isn't cheating might be slightly different from our own."

Ginny's eyes narrowed, and her irritation was almost palpable. "Would you have said that about Fiona, Ron?" she hissed. She was very sensitive about her friends, and she always felt that Harry, Ron, and even Hermione were extremely closed-minded about anyone who wasn't in Gryffindor, stereotyping others to their houses without bothering to know them at all.

"Well, of course he wouldn't have," Harry cut in before Ron could reply. "But Fiona's a Ravenclaw." His brow wrinkled in confusion, and Ginny was sure he didn't have even the faintest idea of why she might be upset. After all, in Harry's tiny universe, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs weren't really worth noticing (unless they were beautiful, like Cho Chang), and all good little Gryffindors were supposed to loathe all those nasty Slytherins. It was as natural to him as breathing.

"What makes you think you can understand someone's personal value system by the color of scarf they wear during the school year?" Ginny realized she was almost shaking with anger. Exasperated, she turned to Hermione, who had remained quiet through the whole exchange, and handed her the Hogwarts book list and a handful of Galleons. "Hermione, would you be so kind as to purchase my books for me, and send them back to the Burrow along with the git you're dating? I'm afraid I need to go home." She paused, reflective. "Actually, feel free to leave the git here. Just send the books."

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but seeing the look on Ginny's face, she thought better of it and just nodded mutely. Pushing through the little wall the three friends made, Ginny strode back to the Leaky Cauldron, cheeks flushed and mind seething. She needed to go home, spend some time in her treehouse refuge, and get her mind in order. Too much had happened today, and she was too upset to spend any more time with the trio. Individually, she loved all three of them, but in concert they were sometimes just too much to bear.

***