Rebel Rebel

REBEL REBEL

Chapter One

"Acceptance is, in fact, the first step to successful action. If you don't fully accept a situation precisely the way it is, you will have difficulty changing it. Moreover, if you don't fully accept the situation, you will never really know if the situation should be changed."

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On a lazy August afternoon, the anticlimax of leaving behind an idle summer for another school year hung thick on the air. Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat around the Burrow as students preparing for another clump of months studying at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for the final time. It was strange--they were adults, now; they were legal warlocks. Soon they'd all be living in flats in London, writing for the Prophet, Healing at St. Mungo's, saving the world... doing whatever they set out to do.

Their trunks were filled with all the things they would need for their seventh year (with the exception of Hermione's; as it was, she felt the need to fill her last few hours of holiday with advance reading). The acclaimed Trio rested in the sitting room, not saying much that Ginny was aware of other than the occasional, "So..." followed by an uncertain silence.

Molly and Arthur were outside in the garden, and the house was devoid of five of the seven Weasley children. The only sounds were that of clocks ticking and Ginny's record player (which was set at a volume her mum had christened 'unheavenly'.)

Once she'd had her fill of "Merlin Save the Minister", Ginny removed the needle of her phonograph from her Coitus Revolvers LP. She checked her reflection in the old mirror in the corner of her little bedroom. It sighed its customary sigh--the same lamentation that escaped the lips of all her relations when she entered or exited the room.

"It's just that you look... you look--frumpy, dear," her mother had explained tentatively when Ginny questioned their disapproval. "All this black and all this plaid--what's wrong with a cheery sundress, once in a while? And so much jewelry--it's all rather ridiculous, Ginny, dear...."

She replaced her silver stud earrings for hoops adorned with parchment-punched guitar picks. She unhooked her belt and twisted it, rehooking it on the side of her skirt between the first and second belt-loops. Ginny checked that her fishnets were straight--they were new ones, so no more oversized holes--and pulled her hair back.

She tromped down the stairs, her favorite black boots making a racket that echoed off the walls. Ginny walked straight through the sitting room, not looking at her brother or his friends. She heard the habitual sigh, this time from Ron, as she started pulling on her jacket at the door.

"We have school tomorrow," he reminded her.

She prompted, "The train doesn't leave until eleven o'clock."

A pause. "Where are you going?"

"Out."

He sighed again. "With whom?"

"Gringotts officials and stockbrokers," she informed him satirically, zipping up her pleather coat.

"You best ought be back by ten," Ron informed his sister.

Ginny turned her head and looked at him over her shoulder. He was slouching in an old armchair by the empty grate, a stationary chessboard at his knees. "I'll try my very hardest."

"So, really, Ginny," Hermione said, taking her nose out of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 7, "where are you off to, tonight?"

"Diagon Alley," she told her friend. Hermione didn't commend Ginny's new form of dress, hairstyle, and attitude--but she certainly didn't exhale deplorably whenever Ginny was around, either. "The Condensers are at the Selkie Tail." She grinned.

"Sounds fun," she responded unconvincingly. As far as the music on the WWN, Ginny knew that Hermione had grown to like easy-listening Celestina Warbeck and the bubblegum-heavy Paola Raul more than the All-Wizarding Dregs and the Bleached Streaks. "Who's going to be there?"

"Not sure." Ginny grabbed her broomstick from its spot behind the door. "See you." She left.

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Pinup punk rocker Brodie Dahl paused between songs for a breath. Ginny cheered with the rest of the crowd as the last ringing symbol crash of "Ask the Goblins" faded away. She'd worked her way to the front of the throng, slipping around twenty-something wizards with a fancying for the Condensers' lead singer and weaving between Hogwarts students enjoying their last night out of school uniform.

Brodie smiled at the myriad fans on the floor from her place up on the old stage of the Selkie Tail. That stage was the very platform that the Simones had delivered a Prophet-worthy performance from in the early eighties, Ginny knew. She greatly wished she'd been old enough at that point in time to go to the Selkie Tail and enjoy classics like "Puffskein Boneyard" and "Coup de Main Doo-Wop".

Brodie took a drink of water and adjusted her lip ring with her tongue for a moment before informing them that, "This next one's called 'Salem Cigarette'."

Ginny danced with an ebon-haired Ravenclaw boy she recognized (but had never spoken with) through "Perish on a Whipcord" and "The Galloway Is Good" before deciding to get something to drink. She squeezed along the edge of the room, singing along to "Chick Mender" without hearing her own voice over the blare of the Condensers' instrumentals and Brodie Dahl's gravelly (and much-envied) singing voice.

So her family didn't like it. And that discreet dilating of Harry's pupils when he looked on her had mostly disappeared. She didn't have the same friends, and the professors didn't treat her like they used to. But they'd have to get used to it. No one and nothing could change her back to being poor ickle Ginevra with her big doleful eyes. This was the Ginny Weasley who finally fit into her own skin; this was the girl she liked to be. Her life; her choice.

Ginny finally found the counter and hopped up onto an empty swivel-stool.. She got the bartender's attention--the witch was a leggy, blonde thing that looked rather out of her element. "Could I get a water?" Ginny shouted.. It was about the only thing she could afford. She traded a Knut in for a tall bottle of Aqueous2O.

She peered around the room, searching for a face she knew in the moshpits. Before looking too long, a familiar face found her.

"Ginny Weasley!" yelled the keeper of the visage.

Electric blue hair, black dress, dice charms--who else could it be? "Su Li!" she crowed in return. The girl worked her way through the swarm of witches and wizards and came to rest on the swivel-stool next to Ginny's. She fixed one of her legwarmers, which was decorated with a skull and crossbones topped by girly pink bows pattern, and smiled widely at her. "Great performance, eh?"

"Wicked!" She called for a Gold Tinderblast. After a moment, Su inquired, "Have you heard who's going to be in Hogsmeade on New Year's?"

She furrowed her brow and finished a sip of water. "Who?"

"Binaryboater and, are you ready for this?, the Notch!" Su announced, playing with the minute broomstick-shaped toothpick in her martini glass.

Her stomach turned and Ginny shrieked, "No!"

"Yes!"

"You've got to be fucking me, Su Li!"

"Would I kid around about this?!" She set her glass down on a napkin. "They'll be at the Faulty Gobstone from eight 'til midnight."

"How do you know this?!"

"I have my sources." She sipped her Gold Tinderblast.

"How much are tickets?" Ginny demanded, preparing to empty out what little savings she had.

"Too much. It's got to be the party of the year--our best chance is digging up through the floor." Ginny sighed. "Don't look so disappointed! I'll see if my dad can get us tickets, at least."

"That'd be great." She could never pay her back if she got those tickets--never. Molly Bayrd, lead singer of the Notch, was Ginny's uncontested idol--the goddess of all things glamorous in rock music.

But they would never be able to get those tickets, anyway. The Notch performed mostly in packed Quidditch stadiums; rarely were they spotted with their instruments and microphones in a typical concert city atmosphere. But, in Hogsmeade? That was simply too good to be true.

Conversation between Ginny and Su dissolved--it was difficult yelling over the music for more than five minutes. Ginny spotted other students she knew--Daphne Greengrass, Susan Bones--but decided against getting up to greet them and reckoned she would speak with them on the Hogwarts Express the next day, anyway.

Ginny found that black-haired Ravenclaw boy for the Condensers' last number, "Sap the Claret" and waited for Brodie Dahl's autograph on a poster of her and the rest of the band before finding her broomstick on the wall and heading home.

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Ginny's scarlet hair and black T-shirt passed by the window of the compartment Harry, Ron, and Hermione had settled down in after the pre-Hogwarts prefect meeting in the first car of the train. Hermione was Head Girl, now.. And Harry had been titled Head Boy, which didn't at all surprise Ron. But on the other hand, it didn't brighten his mood, either.

Ron watched Ginny pass, and sighed. "I just don't understand it," he remarked.

"We know you don't, Ron" Hermione told him. "We've heard it a thousand times."

He didn't argue with that. "How did it happen?" he asked. "Was she... I dunno... bitten by a raging punk so that any time even remotely close to the full moon she turns into a shoddy, meritless, safety-pin wearing, fishnet stocking loving--"

"Ron!" Harry massaged his temple. "Just drop it. You're worrying over nothing. We'll consult Professor Lupin, or something. Just... ugh."

"Well--she's changed!" he explained senselessly.

"Everything changes, Ron," Hermione said. "Fashions, technology, laws, languages, and Ginny. Everything. Changes."

He scowled. "I know that. But does it always have to be for the worst?"

"Who says this is for the worst?" Harry inquired lamely. Ron stared at him. "Look, Ron," he continued, "she's happy, isn't she? Don't you want your sister to be happy?"

"She's only happy because she's--" his eyes became crazed as he looked frenziedly around the car and whispered, "smoking happy hay!"

Harry burst into an irrepressible fit of sniggers, sliding down in his seat and covering his mouth. Happy hay. Hermione, far from laughing, snapped, "Honestly, Ron, don't be ridiculous!"

"Who says I'm being ridiculous?!"

He opened his mouth to continue but she cut him off. "I do." Hermione opened up the oval-shaped wicker basket that Crookshanks had so long called 'home' and extracted the great, ginger cat, setting him down on her lap. He stretched out, curving his back, before lying down and shutting his luminescent eyes. She elaborated, "You've turned into an absolute maniac over this."

"Well, can you blame me?" he questioned frantically. "My innocent little sister has been replaced by some lunatic from a parallel universe!"

"And clearly the same's happened to our innocent little friend." Hermione cast Harry a sidelong look.

Ron wrinkled up his nose in a befuddled manner and murmured, "Huh?"

"Ron," Hermione said patiently, leaning forward a little, "Heraclitus once said, 'Change alone is unchanging.'"

He inquired, "Who's... Herculitus?"

"He's someone much smarter than you are, so listen up," she went on.
"Ginny's changed. So have you, so has Harry, and so have I. I hate to admit it, but Malfoy's even changed." Harry cringed. That was the first time in a long time he'd heard the name 'Malfoy'. "You need to accept it and move on. The only thing that reverses change is time."

Ron fell silent. Harry smiled over at his friend, and her shoulders relaxed. He'd finally heard them.

"Or is it?"

Hermione's shoulders tensed again, and Harry shut his eyes tight. Merlin, why?

"Harry!" Ron said excitedly, eyes popping.

"No," he droned.

"Look, it wouldn't even be hard--oh, Harry, this is perfect."

Harry pushed his shoulders back in his seat and braced himself. "No," he said. "No--whatever it is, it's not. No. I won't do it."

"It's so simple--I dunno why I didn't think of it before now..." Ron acquired a dreamy look as he stared up toward the ceiling of their car.. "Harry."

"No," he repeated, firmly.

"Harry, it's just a matter of roses and the word 'love' stuck in prose," he explained, "It would be nothing!"

He shook his head vehemently. "I can't do that, mate; there's no way in Hell."

"It wouldn't take more than a month--"

"I'm not getting caught up in this!" Harry's voice was rising to a dangerous pitch, and he wished it would stop. "All that would come out of it are broken hearts and fresh grudges--stop looking at me like that!"

"Just--just hear me out!" Harry covered his eyes with one hand and moaned. "Ginny was mad on you for a long time--if you can rekindle that and show her that you could never like her the way she is now--she'll switch back!"

"You've lost your bloody mind."

"I haven't!"

"You," he said slowly, "want me to make your sister fancy me. Then you want me to get her to believe that I wouldn't think twice about her if she keeps--what?--dressing the way she does?" He scratched his chin. "Is it just me, or does it look like I'm coming off as the arse in this scenario?"

"Well--" Ron squeaked, "maybe a little... but--"

"Ron," Hermione interjected, taking on a motherly tone, "what you're proposing is possibly the worst plan I've heard in my entire life."

He glared at her. "How's that, Hermione?" he barked.

"You aren't looking at the four corners of the situation!" she declared. "First things first. How will it go if Ginny, being the bright witch she is, decides that no man who tries to change her is worth her time?"

"She won't think that--"

"So let's pretend she does change for Harry. Does Harry have to stay at her side, then, until she looks steady to abort the mission? That might take months--years, Ron."

"No, it w--"

"Then what happens if she isn't actually steady? She'll change back, Ron!"

"That's always a possibility, but--"

"Say she finds out. Then everyone's hurting! She'll realize that Harry never wanted to be with her in the first pace. She'll also see that you've denied her as a worthy contestant for a sister. Then Ginny will stay the way she is just to spite you, to spite Harry--to spite everyone. And, don't forget that anyone who knew about your little cabal will feel guilty for not saying something. We'll all be subjected to Weasley Wrath and Weasley Grudge. Yes, Ron, that's quite the happy ending!"

There was a long pause. "You don't have to be so pessimistic about it all," Ron remarked feebly.

Hermione made a noise of fierce tedium and turned her face away from both boys.

"Ron, she's right." Harry continued, "I can't do this; it's too risky."

"Please?" Harry shook his head. "C'mon, Harry. You know I'd do the same for you."

"I don't have a sister," he muttered.

"I know--but--just... listen." Ron took a deep breath and Harry relaxed, resignedly tuning in. "I know that once in a while we find ourselves at odds, but you're my best friend. And I've helped you a lot since we were eleven-year-olds."

Harry didn't interrupt.

"I was the one who taught you wizard chess--that got you past McGonagall's enchanted chess set guarding the Philosopher's Stone. I lied for you in third year when Snape caught you with all the sweets from your unauthorized visit to Hogsmeade. I took over research for Buckbeak's appeal that year, too, when you and Hermione couldn't carry the load." Ron took a deep breath, gently closing his eyes for a junction.

"After the First Task of the Triwizard Tournament I helped you incessantly--I can't even count how many times I let you Stun me! I tried to get you to tell Dumbledore about Umbridge's sadistic detentions back in fifth--remember? And--and, I stuck with you when all those stories were flying around; I helped you with DA. I even came into the Department of Mysteries with you, Harry, and did everything I could to help you in that battle. Last year I refused to run back to the common room when the castle was being attacked; instead I stuck by you. And d'you know why?"

Harry didn't answer. The heartfelt orations got to him--every--stinking--time.

"Because you're my best friend and I knew you'd do the same for me." A smile pulled momentarily at the edges of his lips. "This is just one little thing, Harry, and I swear that if it goes wrong--I'll take all the blame."

Harry sighed and thought on this for a minute. Could it really turn out as bad as Hermione predicted? He exhaled slowly and looked across the compartment at Ron. "Fine," he said. "I'll do it."

Ron smiled. And outside the compartment, as he pulled his ear away from the door, so did Draco Malfoy.

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