Harry Potter and the Sticking Broom

Chapter 8: Can You Keep a Secret?

Ginny led the way as they left the kitchen through a low, narrow doorway in the wall opposite the fireplaces. This took them into a dingy scullery where pots and plates were scrubbing themselves under elfin supervision. Another door, so low that Harry nearly knocked his head on its stone archway, led outside the castle to Hogwarts' vegetable patch.

Ginny stopped suddenly and gasped. Merlin Rhys-Jones was standing in the pumpkin patch just outside the door. Clearly Ginny had not counted on meeting Hogwarts' Head Boy there. Harry noticed that Merlin appeared to be just as surprised to see them.

"Harry?" he said, sounding most confused. Trying to sound calmer, he added, "Are you all right? I was just in the Great Hall. That thing with the cloud was - just weird. Do you know how it happened?"

Harry shrugged in embarrassment. "Stupid Slytherins, I suppose."

Merlin was looking over Harry's shoulder through the doorway, but his brow furrowed at Harry's words. "You know, I thought that too, at first. But, the ceiling of the Great Hall? Boyo, you'd need some powerful magic to muck about with that!" This whole speech was delivered while peering into the darkness of the scullery.

Ginny fumbled with her bundle of odds and ends and gave Harry an urgent look. Harry, worried about the truth of Rhys-Jones words, and realising it made his present mission all the more important, said, "We're just going for a - walk."

Surprisingly, Merlin took this at face value. He was clearly distracted by whatever he was looking for in the scullery. He muttered, "Righto. Off you go then. Don't forget Filch is locking the doors at sunset." He didn't even turn around as Harry and Ginny pushed past him on the path through the vegetables.

When the Head Boy was out of earshot, Ginny whispered, "That was a stroke of luck. I thought we'd be given detention for sure."

"He was acting strangely," Harry said. "Like he was looking for something."

Ginny giggled softly. "I'd say he was looking for someone. I think there'll be two more for Hagrid's hut tonight." Harry frowned at this, mainly because he didn't approve of the way Hogwarts' senior students had appropriated his friend's home as a lovers' lane. However, he also frowned because he could guess whom the Head Boy must be waiting for.

Ginny had now stopped at the tomato plants, and began to hand some of her odd equipment to Harry. "Hold these for a moment," she said before pulling a garden stake out of the ground. Soon after, Harry found himself carrying a length of twine and a pillow along the path that skirted the greenhouses, while Ginny hurried ahead carrying the rest of her gear and using the garden stake as a walking stick. When they got to the end of the pathway, Ginny turned and faced Harry with a grave expression on her face.

"Harry Potter," she asked, "can you keep a secret?"

Harry thought of the many secrets he had been asked to keep in his life. He was required to keep his identity as a wizard secret from nearly the whole Muggle world. He was unable to tell all but his closest friends that his godfather was an unregistered Animagus on the run from the law. He knew secrets about Voldemort that he had been able to share only with Professor Dumbledore. And he knew that Hermione Granger had kissed Professor Snape. He also knew that, should he ever reveal that last secret, Hermione would place a hex on him that Harry could not even pronounce. On the whole, Harry thought that he was quite experienced at keeping secrets.

Ginny continued. "You can't tell anybody about this. Not even Ron."

This worried Harry, who asked, "Why?"

Ginny's cheeks turned pink and she looked slightly ashamed. "You're going to think I'm stupid, but try to understand. It's not easy being the seventh child. Don't get me wrong - I think my brothers are great. It's just that, no matter what I do, they've always done it before. Sometimes I think I'll never be as cool as Bill, or as brave as Charlie or as smart as Percy, or as funny as Fred and George. I don't even know what Ron's good at, but whatever it is you can bet I won't measure up to that either. So, I need to keep this secret, because I've done something which none of them have done before me. In fact, I don't think anybody else at Hogwarts has ever done this."

Harry was intrigued by this secrecy, but also struck by how closely Ginny's speech mimicked Ron's first conversation with him on the Hogwarts Express. He wondered what it must be like to have siblings and to spend your whole life in desperate competition with the people you loved the most. The thought made him feel a little lonely, but he simply said, "It's OK. I won't tell anybody."

Ginny smiled with relief and pointed with the garden stake across the green expanse of Hogwarts' grounds. In the middle of the lawns, the Whomping Willow stood, covered in delicate trailing branches. "Pretty, isn't it?" Ginny observed.

"I guess so," Harry agreed. "For something that'll knock your head off."

"Or wreck your family's car," Ginny reminded him. She was trying to sound stern but her voice had a gleeful lilt. It was clear that she could barely wait to tell Harry her big secret. She started to walk towards the willow, and whispered to Harry as she went. "Did you know there's a tunnel underneath that tree?"

Immediately, Harry began to suspect what Ginny intended. His mind filled with alarm. He couldn't bring himself to believe that Ron or Hermione would have told Ginny about their experiences under the Whomping Willow. But what if they had? How much did Ginny know? He also began to worry that Ginny might not appreciate the danger she was walking into. He tucked the pillow under his arm and grabbed Ginny her by the shoulder. "Fred and George told me all about that tunnel," he warned. "But you can't get into there, the branches will smash you to bits."

Ginny looked momentarily disappointed. "Fred told you? Honestly, what's the good of Fred finding all these secret passageways if he goes about telling everyone? Did he tell you about the way into Honeydukes?"

Harry nodded. Ginny looked as though she wanted to kick him.

"Well, that settles it," said Ginny grimly. "I'm never, ever telling Fred about this." She struggled out of Harry's grasp and ran towards the tree. Harry yelled for her to stop as she ducked under the outer branches. The tree immediately began to thrash and then, suddenly, it froze.

Through the leaves, Harry could hear Ginny laughing and make out her outline near the trunk. "Come in, Harry," she called out. "We don't have very long."

When Harry came through the green veil of the willow tree, which did no more than gently brush his face, he saw Ginny standing with the garden stake still pressed against a knothole in the trunk. The entrance to the tunnel under the tree was open. Ginny looked triumphant. "I saw Hermione's cat do this once. Isn't it cool?"

Harry didn't have the heart to let on that he, too, had seen Crookshanks open the tree. He was just grateful that Ginny had negotiated the path to the knothole safely. "It's, er, great," he agreed.

"And, you'll never guess where it leads to," Ginny said as she descended the stairs into the tunnel.

Negotiating the long passageway by the light of his wand, Harry was initially pleased to note that the roof seemed much lower than it had in third year. However, after he hit his head a couple of times, the novelty of being a few centimetres taller began to wear off. Ginny, on the other had, never needed to duck her head as she hurried ahead in the darkness. As she sped along, she gave Harry instructions, such as, "Two steps down here," or, "It gets narrower on this bit." It was obvious that she had been down the tunnel several times before, which made Harry wonder how long ago she had seen Crookshanks dart into the Whomping Willow. The cat had visited Sirius through the tree in third year. What if Ginny had seen Crookshanks helping Sirius again?

"How long have you been coming this way?" Harry asked.

"About a month," Ginny replied. Harry was confused, glad, and hurt at the same time. Did that mean Sirius had been in Hogsmeade since April? If Sirius he been hiding in the Shrieking Shack, did that mean he was safe? But if Sirius had come to Hogsmeade, why hadn't he told Harry?

Ginny reached the final section of the tunnel, where the ground began to rise. She disappeared around the last twist. The next thing Harry saw of Ginny was a small hand waving in a patch of dim light, beckoning Harry to climb up through the narrow opening where the tunnel ended. Harry threw the pillow and rope up through this hole and pulled himself out into the light.

They stood together in the wrecked parlour of the Shrieking Shack. Ginny looked like she was about to burst with pride as she asked, "Do you know where we are?"

Harry shook his head awkwardly, realising that this was no time for honesty. Ginny dumped her burden on a mauled settee and announced, "We're just outside Hogsmeade. Can you believe it? You can practically see the village green from here!" She pointed to a window, which was boarded up. "Harry, we're inside the Shrieking Shack!"

Harry tried his best to look astounded. Fearing that he was not being convincing, he changed the subject by asking, "How will we be able to see the teachers if the windows are all blocked?"

Ginny was gathering up her odds and ends and took the pillow and twine from Harry. "Silly!" she said, noticing the unusual look on Harry's face. "You can stop looking so nervous, it's not the least bit haunted here. The only thing I've ever laid eyes on here was alive - a big black dog. He was a friendly old thing." She started untangling a string of beads from her pile on the settee. "But even so, we're not staying," she added. "Put that robe on and we'll take a walk into the village."

She had handed him a shabby checked robe with a hood, which smelt of dust and stale Butterbeer. As Harry fumbled to find the armholes, Ginny took the pillow and tied it around her waist with the rope. She then put on an old black taffeta dress with lace frills at its high collar and on the ends of its long sleeves. She roped several strings of large green glass beads around her neck and placed two or three oversized rings on her fingers. Finally, she picked up the feathery object, which Harry could now see also had long, wide, chiffon ribbons, and placed it on her head, tying the ribbons in a large bow under her chin. She was wearing a tall black hat with a stuffed vulture perched on the top.

"You know, Neville's Gran has a hat which looks just like that," Harry informed her. Even though it had been more than two years ago, the comical appearance of the Boggart Snape was something Harry had not forgotten.

"You mean, she used to have a hat like this," said Ginny mischievously. "She left it behind after the last Board of Governors meeting. Seems that Neville's not the only forgetful one in that family." She walked through to the rear of the shack and began to remove a loose board from the back door. She then squeezed through the tiny opening, knocking the moth-eaten vulture somewhat askew as she did so. With difficulty, Harry followed her into the light of the overgrown garden of the Shrieking Shack.

They ploughed through the waist-high weeds to a gap in the tumbled down picket fence. Once on the road, their progress was much easier, although slow, due to Ginny's bent posture and shuffling gait. She was entirely convincing in her portrayal of a stout, elderly witch out for a stroll on a summer's evening. They passed the village school yard, where a line of little children were balancing on training brooms in front of a smoking cauldron. Ginny stopped suddenly, straightened a little and swore.

"Merlin's beard!" she softly cursed. Harry was surprised. Even though this was not a serious profanity, he had never heard Ginny use such words before. Her eyes flickered with fury.

"Quodpot! In Hogsmeade? If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes -" she muttered, her voice wavering with ire.

Harry had read about Quodpot, but he had never seen it played before. He observed that the children were indeed passing what appeared to be an oversized, vibrating Quaffle to each other as they wobbled on brooms. "I didn't think they played that outside America," Harry said.

"They bloody well shouldn't!" said Ginny, still patently angry. "But some mothers think that Quidditch is too dangerous. So some schools play Mini-Quodpot, because it's safer." Her voice dripped scorn as she turned her back on the school and marched along the road.

As they turned, Harry noticed the ball one of the little wizards was holding (which Harry guessed must be the Quod) exploded in the child's face. The young boy fell off his broom with a squeal. Apparently, safety was a relative concept to maternal witches. Ginny was now two or three paces ahead and, as Harry caught up, he became aware that she was continuing her anti-Quadpot tirade under her breath.

"At least if they were playing Shuntbumps they'd be moving. How does any child learn to fly sitting on a broom in a stupid line? Where's the skill in it? Might as well tear the Crescent Moon from the school flagpole and run up the Stars and Broomsticks of Massachusetts!" Ginny fumed. Clearly, she had inherited the Weasley family tendency towards Quidditch fanaticism.

By now they had reached the beginning of the High Street. Ginny fell silent and remembered to stoop again as they passed Gladrags Wizardwear and Zonko's. A short side street, lined with crooked houses with pretty window boxes, took them to the village green. Harry pulled the hood of his robes so low over his eyes that it rubbed his sunburnt nose. He quietly grumbled, "I feel like a badly dressed Dementor."

Ginny's voice sounded worried when she whispered in reply, "Don't joke about those - those things. I hate them. And Dad told me last year that, if those creatures leave Azkaban, there's no telling where they might go next." Ginny's voice trailed off into silence, which was just as well, for a moment later Madam Hooch zipped past Ginny and Harry on her broom.