MetaFic

Sirius Black was a fully qualified wizard, one of the most eligible bachelors in Britain, and a pillar of Wizarding high society. However, the expression on Albus’ face as he returned from the Pensieve made Sirius feel like a guilty child whose mother had just grabbed a switch and would soon march him to the broom shed. He shifted slightly in his seat as Albus sternly lectured, “I would not have expected such childish behaviour from two grown men.”

Not meeting the Headmaster’s eye, Sirius said, “We -”

Remus cleared his throat noisily.

“I,” continued Sirius with a slight sigh, “was merely trying to lighten the mood. Make the Weasley girl relax a bit, as it were.”

“I see,” replied Albus curtly.

“Well, be that as it may,” Sirius replied uncomfortably, “those bits of magic were completely unexpected. I’m quite concerned that Voldemort may be using the girl to get at Harry. I think it unwise for me to not be here tomorrow night.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Sirius,” Albus scoffed. “Voldemort has no reason to suspect that Harry is even alive, let alone that he’s here.”

“How can you be so sure, Albus? Remember who we’re dealing with!” retorted Sirius.

“I fail to see your point,” said Albus dismissively.

“How did Voldemort know about the Philosopher’s Stone? Its existence was as closely guarded a secret as Harry’s,” replied Sirius more forcefully.

Albus stared at Sirius for a long moment and then scolded, “Perhaps if you were less irresponsible in this matter you wouldn’t be concerned.”

Oh no you don’t, old man, Sirius thought in anger. He leapt from his chair and leaned over the desk into the Headmaster’s face. With an ice cold tone, Sirius began lecturing Albus. “Don’t you dare insinuate that I am irresponsible with Harry’s safety! He, and Remus, are all I have left of the people I truly consider my family. I don’t consider the lives of others as mere pawns in my personal chess match with Fate. If there had been the slightest suspicion from anyone about Peter, I never would have suggested switching the Secret-Keeper. Harry’s life is worth a thousand of mine, Albus, and not a day goes by that I don’t think about that.”

Albus pursed his lips but said nothing.

Sirius stood and backed away from the desk. Staring Albus down, he angrily continued, “While on the subject of responsibility and Harry’s safety; who allowed Voldemort himself free access to this castle last year? I don’t know what he could’ve accomplished through Quirrell, but if he had known about Harry, we both know he would have attempted to finish what he’d started ten years before.”

Sirius began to pace before the Headmaster’s desk, venting his anger over the old wizard’s careless treatment with the lives of others. “And now we have Voldemort in the castle again! Ten years of nothing, and now, two years in a row, somehow he is back. And you call my worries irresponsible,” Sirius spat.

A slightly paled Albus held out his hands, palms up. “Peace, Sirius. I meant no disrespect to your guardianship of Harry. All my sources tell me that Voldemort’s Shade returned to hiding somewhere in the Balkans. He simply cannot be here.”

“Yeah? Well, why does that diary have his signature? Constant vigilance, Albus; or have you grown complacent? If the Weasley girl is a threat, Harry and I are gone from here. I am not willing to place Harry in a danger of any sort. What kind of magic is this for a first year student? Perhaps Voldemort might have managed such feats, but some little girl?” Sirius exhaled forcefully. “Has Minerva said anything about Miss Weasley showing this sort of ability prior to last night’s events?”

“Minerva has mentioned nothing to me regarding Miss Weasley’s academics. If the girl had done anything of this nature in class, I would like to believe she would have informed me. I will ask her, just to make sure. However, I expect she will be as surprised as you were.

“Regardless, I cannot imagine that this girl could pose a threat to Harry and Remus together. Sirius, it is imperative you be at the International Council of Wizards’ Closing Feast. After last week’s events, Lucius has stepped up his attempts to undermine me through his allies. You know as well as I that my post here is crucial if we are to succeed in changing the Ministry’s broken education system. We cannot allow the Pure-blood faction any uncontested platforms from which to spread their poison. For better or for worse, Sirius, you are our best spokesman for such an audience. I am relying on you to rally the other Governors, and our friends in the Ministry and Wizengamot, against Lucius’ influence.”

Sirius gritted his teeth in exasperation. “I’m trying, Albus, but these things don’t happen overnight. I’ve been telling you for years that we’re still at war, just in a different arena. You should have allowed me to get involved in the diplomatic and financial struggle sooner. Lucius has a significant advantage in garnering influence. There is a lot I must attempt to undo.”

Albus rubbed his eyes wearily and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I admit that you were correct in this instance. Regarding Voldemort, however, there is nothing I’ve heard or seen that leads me to think this diary could be Voldemort himself. Sirius, have you asked Harry if there was any change in the connection between the diary and Miss Weasley while these spells were cast?”

Remus nodded and spoke for Sirius. “Yes, we talked to him this morning before Professor Aavgard arrived for Harry’s Runes class. We had him watch the memory just to make sure. He is certain the diary isn’t aware of anything beyond the person writing in it. I trust his judgement on this, Albus.” Glaring at Sirius he added, “And for what it’s worth, Harry’s opinion of those first few minutes from last night matches yours.”

Albus sat back and stared at the far wall for a moment before focusing on Sirius. “What about the Corresponding Diaries you acquired for comparison’s sake? What does he see with those?”

“There are no similarities whatsoever,” Sirius said emphatically. “I bought several of each so we could all write in them. A couple of unused ones remain, male and female, for the girl to use tomorrow evening. Harry saw no similarities between the signatures of the unopened normal diaries and that thing we confiscated from the girl. When Remus and I each opened a diary and wrote in it, Harry said the signature was quite different and far weaker.”

“We’ll continue our experiments,” added Remus. “Tomorrow we will have the girl write in a normal diary. That ought to give us a baseline for comparison when we start to study this Dark object. I’ll also ask her, tomorrow evening, where she got the confiscated diary. That information ought to help us trace its origins.”

“I concur with your approach, Remus. Based on last night’s events, I will give her some simple test spells to attempt on Saturday; I look forward to seeing if she can explain and repeat her abilities.” Albus smiled slightly. “A wandless, non-verbal action followed by two more non-verbal spells? If she truly has this sort of potential, do you think she would be an appropriate candidate for training under your Theory curriculum?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps,” shrugged Remus. “Could you run your tests in the morning? I want to see what she does, but Sunday’s the full moon. I doubt I’ll feel up to it by the afternoon. It’s my opinion that last night’s incidents were not accidental. Although frightened, Miss Weasley’s actions appeared too smooth, too practiced, to be accidental magic. That indicates a potential for her to grasp the basics of the Theory. Perhaps… perhaps she can give us a validation of my curriculum independent of Harry.”

“Ask about the confiscated diary, have the girl try the normal diaries, but take no other actions, Remus,” cautioned Albus. He looked at Sirius and said, “Is that all right, Sirius? I agree there is merit to your concerns for Harry’s safety,” Albus conceded. “I recommend there be no magic of any kind tomorrow.” Albus looked at both men. “Is that understood?”

“Thank you, Albus,” replied Sirius. “I suppose this is the best I can expect in this situation,” he sighed.

Albus gave both men a slight smile. “I want to observe her abilities, or potential thereof, first hand. Then, Remus, we can talk about your going forward with a new student.” He began shuffling some parchments on his desk and asked, “is there anything else I can do for you this morning?”

Taking the hint of their dismissal, Remus and Sirius rose and walked towards the door.

The two men sat in the tower lounge looking though their questions and answers in the Corresponding Diaries. The magic involved, although difficult to cast, was actually straight forward. Over time the enchantment on the diary would learn to anticipate what the owner would write or ask. However, it appeared to Sirius a lengthy process, even if one wrote several times a day. He wondered how long this girl had been writing in the mysterious diary.

Looking up from his diary, Sirius nonchalantly said, “Harry had a pretty full schedule today, but he’ll be finishing up his quarterstaff and martial arts training with Master MacClellan soon.”

“And your point?” asked Remus with a raised eyebrow.

Sirius huffed and replied, “Before he gets to his homework, I think we ought to go over his memory one more time.”

Remus stared at Sirius. “You’re really worried about this, aren’t you? I haven’t seen you go off like that with Albus for several years now.”

“This thing is very disturbing, Remus. Not to mention that after a decade of nothing, Voldemort is suddenly back two years running.”

“It could be a mere coincidence, Sirius.”

“No!” replied Sirius vehemently. “Where that bastard is concerned there is no such thing as coincidence. We could’ve missed something from last night, all right? We need to look again. We must know!”

“Harry’s going to think we’re mental,” sighed Remus.

“Not if we tell him why we want him to look again,” Sirius responded.

“I believe that is called leading the witness,” said Remus dubiously.

Sirius huffed again. “Aw… Merlin’s balls, Remus. This isn’t a Wizengamot Inquest. I want him to look for specific things. If he notices them on his own, fine. If he needs some coaching, we should do that next.”

Remus frowned. “I suppose so, but I’d rather we not prejudice him.”

“Prejudice him?” exclaimed Sirius. “This is exactly the way Lily coached us! She’d do the same with Harry,” Sirius said forcibly.

Remus’ frown became a heart-sore look. “That’s true; you give me a hard argument to refute.”

Seeing his friend’s face grow pale, Sirius realised he had gone too far. Hoping to take the sting out of his rebuke, Sirius smiled. “Moony, you know I’m an even bigger swot than you. I just hide it well.”

The edges of Remus’ lips twitched up. “Perhaps, Padfoot. Perhaps.”

Sirius suddenly sobered and told Remus, “I’m getting an International Portkey for tomorrow night. I’ll take my mirror with me. If anything, and I mean anything, seems off to you, call me. I’m taking a big enough risk as it is.”

At Remus’ nod of understanding, they both went back to reviewing their respective diary entries.

Harry moved stiffly down the stairs and into the tower’s ground level. That blasted MacClellan had really worked him this afternoon. He decided to ask Sirius if he could get that sword before his birthday. He thought if he was going to train this hard, he bloody well ought to have his reward sooner.

Sirius looked up from the dining table where he was setting the plates. “Rough training session, Bambi?”

“Ha, ha. Very finny, Sirius. But yeah, Master MacClellan has decided I’ve had it too easy of late.” Trying to look as innocent as he could, Harry said, “You know Sirius, if I improve enough, maybe I should get the sword before my birthday. It’s not like getting it early would upset the balance of the universe or something.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “We’ll see. Call Remus to dinner, will you?”

Harry stuck his head through the doorway and bellowed, “Remus!”

“I’m right here, Harry,” Remus said from a chair about five feet from the door. “There’s no need to shout.”

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know you were there.”

Remus smiled. “Do you honestly think I would miss one of Blinkin’s beef stews?”

The three of them settled into the hearty stew, slicing chunks of brown bread to dip into it. Sirius cleared his throat while they began to serve themselves seconds. “Er - Harry, after dinner, I want us to review last night in the Pensieve again.”

“What?” snapped Harry. He frowned at having to relive that embarrassment over again. “I don’t see why you’re rubbing my nose in your mess again. My behaviour was not out of line like some others’ were,” he added sourly.

Looking embarrassed, Sirius said, “Well, that’s not the reason. Remus and I want to go over the Weasley girl’s -”

“Ginny,” Harry corrected.

Sirius’ mouth twitched in a slight smile. “- Ginny’s actions and any change to the signature and threads from the diary.”

“Fine,” he replied, slightly bored. However, as he ate Harry began to appreciate the idea of watching Ginny move and cast those spells. She had been scared and upset, but even with that there had been a graceful flow to her actions. Nodding to himself, he began to smile. Maybe watching Ginny again would not be so embarrassing after all. He missed the wink Sirius gave Remus.

After the dishes were cleared away and washed, Sirius placed the Pensieve in the table’s centre. “All right, Harry. Let’s watch the memory from when you walk through the doorway,” Harry snorted in disgust, “to when Remus tells you to end all the spells. Just try to watch the whole thing, not concentrate on anything specific.” Sirius looked at Remus and smirked.

Harry sighed with exasperation. “I’m ready whenever you are.” Landing in the scene, he tried to watch with a detached frame of mind. “Huh!” he grunted as Ginny cast that nose hex and then hit Sirius with the stinging hex. He frowned as he watched her back against the entrance door in panic. He grunted again as she cancelled the nose hex. The three of them left the scene as memory-Harry began to call, “Finite.”

“All right, Harry,” said Remus, “did you notice any change in the threads from the diary to Ginny? Obviously something caught your attention.”

Harry rolled his eyes; these two were so thick! “No!” he exclaimed. “Once again, there was no change in the diary’s signature or the possession threads. I am positive that until the thing is open it has no awareness outside its own covers. However, watching that spell hit my face was not fun.”

“What about when she cast those spells?” Sirius asked in a worried tone. “Those were rather advanced spells for a first year, right Remus?”

“Well… Sirius, let’s focus on the here and now, please,” Remus told him impatiently. “Harry, did you notice anything about her when she drew her wand or cast any of those spells?”

“You know,” Harry said slowly, “I don’t think she drew her wand. And it’s actually four spells. That nose thing, the stinging hex, cancelling the nose thing, and she conjured that wand from somewhere.”

Remus shook his head. “She didn’t conjure the wand, Harry. Gamp’s First Law of Elemental Transfiguration. You can’t conjure or transfigure an innately magical object.”

“Oh, yeah. I forgot, sorry. So just where did her wand come from?” Harry mused.

Harry went to the sofa and sat. He needed to compare what he subjectively remembered with what he had just seen in his objective memory. After some time getting nowhere, Harry looked up and said, “You’re leading me somewhere with this, aren’t you?”

Sirius lightly slapped the back of Remus’ head. “’I believe this is called leading the witness,’” he said to his friend with a mock whine in his voice. Remus smiled sheepishly and shrugged.

Ignoring their by-play, Harry continued voicing his thoughts. “Ginny’s signature flared much more than normal with each spell. She drew heavily on her core to do that magic, but why? I think she did by instinct. I think she wasn’t aware she was doing it.”

“Are you thinking it was accidental magic, then?” asked Remus.

Harry shook his head. “No, no. The flaring was focused, channelled though her hand and then her wand. It wasn’t accidental. Perhaps she was doing it unconsciously.”

“You mean subconsciously?” asked Remus.

“Uh, yeah. Anyway, can you do that? I mean can you do that without lots of training? I didn’t even realise that three of the four flares were non-verbal. The incantation she used to cancel that nose thing was… was something Egyptian. I don’t remember what she said. We should ask her about that tomorrow.”

“Are you certain it was her? Could the diary have been using her, or could she have been drawing upon the its magic? This is very important, Harry,” Sirius implored. “I don’t trust that diary thing, if it’s making her a danger to you, well I… I don’t know what to think about that.”

Harry looked sharply at his godfather. Sirius was hardly ever this upset about anything. “Let’s look at the whole thing one more time. I’ll pay special attention to the threads just to make sure.”

Returning from the memory scene again, Harry let out a long breath as he lifted his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “This doesn’t get any easier to watch, you know. That had to be the stupidest thing I have ever been involved with.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that, Harry, but it’s certainly in the top ten of stupid things,” Sirius chuckled.

Harry shot him an annoyed look. “Yeah. Thanks. Well anyway, to answer your question, no. There’s no change to the diary’s signature or its threads. No change in hue, thickness or flatness from my original observations. I keep telling you, when it’s closed the diary is not aware of its surroundings. Ask the other diaries we have. They’d probably tell you. Because so help me, if you make me watch that moment one more time I am going to start hurting people!”

Remus gave a small smile. “No, Harry. We believe you, honest. I think we should have the girl -”

“She has a name! It’s Ginny!” snapped Harry. Remus and Sirius shared an inscrutable look.

Harry wondered if now was a good time to ask some questions that he had not been able to answer over the past week. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” he muttered.

With an exaggerated sigh, Harry spoke. “Actually, I have noticed some changes in the threads to Ginny.”

Remus and Sirius looked at Harry in surprise. “When? Last night?” Sirius demanded.

“Not last night, but in the anteroom last week. When she got mad at me… her signature flared around her. It got bigger and pushed both possession threads away from her. She didn’t break contact completely, but both threads were weaker while she was angry. And uh…” Harry started to feel his face warm a bit, although he was not sure why. “Uh, when I put my cloak on her, the thread to her chest grew thinner, and it stayed that way the rest of the time she was in the room. It seemed to be back to normal last night, whatever that means. Do you think that’s important? I mean, would emotions affect magic that much?”

There was some sort of silent communication between Remus and Sirius which Harry did not understand. Remus told him, “Harry, you know that emotions drive accidental magic and can influence the strength behind a wizard’s spells. Adrenaline does the same thing. The gir… Ginny was obviously on edge in that room.”

“That could be very important later on, Harry. Thanks for letting us know,” said Sirius encouragingly. “If you notice this effect again, we have to know about it, all right? Hopefully it won’t… I mean maybe we can use it to our advantage.”

“Yes, perhaps,” mused Remus. “Tomorrow night, let’s ask Ginny to write in several of the diaries you bought. Harry, I want you to watch her when she does. Look to see if there is any change to her signature or the threads. We’ll review that later, when she is not around. We can also compare those signatures to the one you saw between her and the confiscated diary in the Great Hall last week.”

“Both of you be careful, all right?” warned Sirius. “Remember I’m not here for dinner tomorrow. I’ll be in Prague.” Sirius gave Remus a long look and then winked at Harry and cheerfully said, “I’m the Contessa Marie’s escort for the ICW’s end-of-session banquet.”

“I say, Padfoot, isn’t she the dowager from Silesia? The one who always calls McGonagall ‘young lady’?” Remus replied, giving Harry a wink of his own.

Sirius blanched. “Merlin, no! This is Marie from Aquitaine, not Bohemia!” Sirius wagged his eyebrows. “She’s a lovely girl. An outstanding example of a Beauxbatons education, if you know what I mean!” He rubbed his hands together and smirked. “She has this brilliant sense of… of…” Sirius glanced quickly at Harry. “If things go as planned, I anticipate our evening to be rather… exciting. I expect to be back quite late, so don’t wait up for me.”

Harry looked at Sirius suddenly. “Do girls have more Veela magic when they get all excited?”

“What?!” squeaked Sirius. He gave Remus an alarmed look, matched by the one his friend returned. “I mean,” Sirius cleared his throat, “what do you mean, Harry?”

Harry knew he was blushing a bit. “It’s just that last night, when Ginny was telling me about Quidditch, she got really excited about it and she, she did look sorta, you know… what you said the other night.” At Sirius’s puzzled expression he quietly added, “Pretty. I mean her eyes got bigger and brighter, or something. She didn’t look any different, but then she sorta did. I don’t know. Her signature got a bit shinier again.”

“Oh!” Sirius answered with a relieved tone, which Harry thought was quite odd. “I think we all get a bit shinier when talking about something we love, or at least really enjoy. But no,” he chuckled, “that isn’t any sort of Veela magic.”

“Okay,” Harry said, shrugging. “I’ve got to get that Potions essay done or Remus will probably give me detention. I’ll be back down in a little bit.”

He bound up the steps to his room but stopped once he was out of sight of the lounge. Listening carefully he heard Remus tell Sirius, “You dodged that well; an answer without an answer, very clever.”

“I realised he wasn’t asking about that.” Harry frowned in confusion, wondering what that was that he had not asked about. “Do you remember how Lily got once she latched onto something? And Alice, too. I’ll bet their signatures would have had Harry wearing dark glasses! You should watch Nymphadora when she goes on about Auror training. As a matter a fact, you might like watching her when she goes on about her training.” Harry recognised the mirth in Sirius’ tone. He wondered if Sirius was teasing Remus about a girl friend. Shrugging at the possibility of future blackmail material, Harry silently continued on to his room and his homework.

Ginny arrived at the tower with Professor Dumbledore at half-past four. She had once again taken the time to have a complete shower. She hated the smell of mildew - and Merlin knows what else - that always clung to her after leaving the Potions dungeon. At least she was not late today, though!

She was surprised when Remus answered the door, and she looked about, wondering where Harry was.

Remus gave her a slight smile. “Harry has Potions this afternoon until dinner. He’ll be along shortly. He knows you’re here, and I’m sure he won’t dally with finishing his Everlasting Elixir.”

“Oh. Good!” Ginny replied self-consciously. Hoping she did not sound too anxious, she continued, “I had Potions this afternoon, too. But Remus, isn’t an Everlasting Elixir a N.E.W.T.-level potion?”

“Harry would be at a sixth-year’s Potions level if he were attending Hogwarts,” said Remus affably. “Come in and have a seat. How have you have been these past two days? Are you sleeping all right?”

Ginny gave the man an odd look. “Well, I um… I’m okay. Not too many people are bothering me, if that’s what you mean. I guess I’m sleeping okay, too,” she responded warily. Why did he want to know how she slept? Before sitting down on the sofa, she looked about the tower.

Remus smiled again, this time a bit more warmly. “No pranks tonight, Miss er… Ginny. I want to begin the investigation of your diary by asking a few questions, and I’d like you to make some diary entries tonight.”

Ginny’s blood froze. She was going to have to write to Tom? Tonight? He might be angry with her. He probably was angry with her. She did not expect to deal with him. She was not prepared! She remembered what had happened after she ignored him over the Christmas holidays. Tom had been very angry and had made her really hurt even after she had begged him not to.

Early on in her writing to him, Tom had begun accusing her of being bad just to get punished and then lying about it to make him feel guilty. Tom had told her the pranks she pulled at home were because she wanted to be caught and punished. Ginny had tried to convince Tom that he did not understand, but he merely scolded her for lying to him again. At first he wrote that her “depraved” desire for punishment was their “dirty little secret,” but later he began to blackmail her, claiming that he would tell her family how sick in the head she was, how tainted she was.

Ginny had expected the evening’s visit to the hidden tower to include a nice dinner and the chance to spend more time with Harry. Now she had to attempt to fool Tom into thinking she had not ignored him again. She glanced into the study but did not see the lectern with the case holding her diary. Where was he? Was he already in the room somewhere?

Her runaway thoughts were interrupted as Remus spoke again.

“Ah,” said Remus. “I am sorry, but it isn’t your diary I want you to write in tonight. Although I was wondering . . . where did you get that diary? It could help us in our research.”

“Mum and Dad got it as a surprise gift for me coming to Hogwarts,” Ginny replied, relieved. “I couldn’t believe they bought it for me, not after having to buy all those books for Professor Lockhart’s class. They put it in my Charms textbook so I would see it when I packed my school supplies,” she offered with a slight smile.

“Ah, I’m sure that was a very pleasant surprise,” replied Remus. “However, for tonight I have two different diaries for you to try. I want to see how you interact with them. We’ve previously checked them, and there is no trace of Dark Magic on them, if that’s what worried you.”

“Okay,” she said meekly. A wave of relief flooded her as she sat back into the sofa. She held her hands in her lap, hoping Remus did not see their slight tremble. She sat in an awkward silence trying to think of something to say. She did not want to apologise again for her behaviour the other night, but was not sure what else to say or do.

Her dilemma was solved as Sirius strode into the lounge looking like he had stepped off a cover of Witch Weekly. Somehow, in the aftermath of her fright and nervousness the previous Tuesday, she had forgotten how tall and handsome he was. Sirius was wearing dress robes cut from a fabric more lustrous and fine than she ever knew existed. He moved with a grace and confidence that awed her. This was the man she had stung two days ago! Ginny stared wide-eyed, feeling very immature, coarse, and low. She knew she was blushing brightly, but could not figure out what to do about it.

“Good evening, Ginny. How have you been?” Sirius asked politely, giving her a slight smile that never reached his cold grey eyes. For a second Ginny was reminded of that bothersome prat, Draco Malfoy.

“I’m sorry, sir… er…Sirius, I didn’t know I was supposed to wear dress robes for tonight,” she stammered under his stare. As soon as the words left her mouth, she realised how stupid they had been.

Sirius frowned at her for a second and then waved away her concern. “I request that you accept my apologies instead, Miss Weasley,” he replied formally. “I have a prior engagement in Prague that I have no excuse to miss. I would much rather be here to dine with such an… an interesting guest.”

Ginny looked down to her lap, blushing all the more. After a moment she looked up and giggled. She did not know why, but all the same she could not help giggling.

Sirius made a deep, formal bow. “And now unfortunately I must beg leave of you, dear Lady. I do hope my godson minds his manners tonight while I am off doing some grown-up codswallop.” He turned towards Remus and pulled a mirror, of all things, out of a seam pocket. “If you need me for whatever reason, Remus…” Sirius gave Ginny another hard look as he returned the mirror to his pocket. He moved to the fireplace, pricked his finger, and mixed a drop of blood with a pinch of Floo Powder. Throwing the powder into the fire, Sirius called out, “One eight nought two nine three; Hogshead.” He stepped into the flames and vanished.

“Did he just mix blood with the Floo Powder? And what was he saying when he used the Floo? That isn’t a normal Floo, is it?”

Remus looked at her shrewdly. She watched him ponder her questions, and then he smiled. “As part of the protections guarding Harry, the Floo network to the tower has a select few connections, and they are coded. Blood is the first pass code, and the verbal call is the second. Even if an enemy were obtain some of our blood, anyone coming or going must know the correct verbal call, which changes often. We were not exaggerating last week when we told you Harry’s safety is paramount.”

Ginny frowned. “But why? Do you really think Death Eaters would try to kill Harry after all these years?”

“Yes. I can’t tell you anything beyond that.”

“Oh.”

“So, Ginny! Received any Howlers lately?” Remus asked, changing the topic.

She sighed with a grimace. “I suppose you heard the one last Saturday?” Remus smirked but shook his head. “I’m surprised you didn’t. Mum was really er… really upset with me. Fortunately Professor Dumbledore told her not to send any more Howlers for me to the Great Hall.”

“So, just the one Howler then? You should consider yourself lucky.”

“Oh no. She’s sent one every day this week. She put a delay spell on them; they don’t open until five minutes after our owl drops them on the table. I have just enough time to reach a classroom on the ground floor. Since Professor Dumbledore has me sitting with the seventh year prefects, I have to run the length of the Great Hall to make it in time. It’s really embarrassing,” she added glumly.

“Perhaps you should ask Sirius about the Howlers he got from his mum. I am certain he can tell you some exciting stories,” Remus said with a devious grin.

Wide-eyed, Ginny answered, “Sirius got Howlers when he was here? Why?”

Remus’ grin grew even more devious, although Ginny was not sure how that was possible. “He got his first on the morning after our Sorting.”

“What did he do wrong so quickly?” gasped Ginny.

“Every Black that ever attended Hogwarts was Sorted in to Slytherin House.”

“But…” Ginny was puzzled. “But he was in Gryffindor with you and Harry’s mum and dad!”

“And that, young lady, is what got him his first Howler,” Remus told her with a smug smile.

“Whose first Howler?” asked Harry, walking into the lounge.

“Harry!” Ginny yelped joyously. She was amazed, once again, at the stunning emerald green of his eyes. “I mean, it’s nice to see you again, Harry,” she said in a slightly less exuberant tone. “So,” she added, fighting a blush, “er… how was Potions this afternoon?”

“Um… okay I guess. Remus, is the Elixir supposed to be a very light yellow when finished?”

Remus’ face became a blank mask as he responded, “What do you think the answer is?”

Harry sighed and answered, “Well, Mum’s notes in the book say pale yellow, but how pale is ‘pale’? It uh… it does look a pale yellow, you know.”

“It sounds like you got it right. I’ll check after dinner. You weren’t trying to rush to get down here, were you?”

Ginny did blush this time. Surely Harry had not hurried through his assignment just to see her. She looked down at her lap again, allowing her hair to cover her face, and worried at the fabric of her robe with her fingers. It was embarrassing but also secretly comforting to fantasise that Harry Potter had hurried through his classes just to see her. She let out a soft sigh.

“All right,” Remus said, rubbing his hands together, “now that Harry has joined us, I would like you, Ginny, to follow his lead towards writing in these diaries.”

Ginny’s hands started to tremble slightly again. She really did not even want to go near the study with Tom’s diary, so she felt greatly relieved when Remus pointed out a pair of books sitting on the dining table. Harry let her sit in front of them while he sat across the table from her, and Remus stood behind her.

“I know this will be strange to you, but I want to see what you write and how the diary responds while Harry watches the magical signatures from across the table.”

Ginny hesitated; Remus would watch what she wrote? What if she wanted to… She turned in her chair to face him. “Could I talk to you… alone… for a moment? Please?” she whispered.

“Harry, go see if your potion is still pale yellow,” Remus ordered immediately.

“What?”

“And don’t even think of sneaking back. I am warding this room for,” he looked down at Ginny, “for a moment.”

Harry glared at them both and stomped out of the dining room as Remus cast several spells about the doorway. “What did you need to talk about, Ginny? Don’t mind Harry, he’s being a bit of a prat at the moment. It comes and goes with him. He is a boy, after all,” Remus smiled.

“Well… I mean… am I supposed to write the same sort of things in these as I did with Tom?”

“That would be a big help and cut down the number of variables we -”

Ginny looked away from Remus to the warded doorway, and her face began to feel hot again as she returned her pleading gaze to him.

Remus looked confused for a moment, and then Ginny saw recognition shine in his eyes. He also glanced to the doorway before looking back at her. “Whatever I see will never be repeated to anyone. Not Harry, not Sirius, not even Dumbledore. If you would feel better with an oath, I will be happy to swear one out for you.”

Ginny shook her head rapidly. “No,” she said softly. “This will be hard for me with Har…him across the table, but I’ll try.”

Remus smiled slightly. “I was a confidante to a wonderful red-haired girl years before you were born. I’d consider it an honour to serve in that role again. All right?”

Ginny felt another wave of relief pass through her, and she nodded.

Remus took down the wards on the doorway and called out, “You can come in now, Harry, and don’t bother pretending you weren’t just outside the wards.” Harry slinked back into the dining room and gave Remus a sour look.

Ginny looked at Harry and said, “I’m going to start writing in the diary. Is there anything I need to do first?” Seeing Harry shake his head, she opened a dark brown book and began to write.

18 February, 1993
I am currently working on a school project and decided to take a break. I got a new diary and I wanted to begin to write in it.

She paused and stared at the ink on the page. “It hasn’t disappeared,” she said slowly. She looked up at Harry and continued, “My ink always disappears with Tom. And then his replies appear where I wrote.”

“I got”? What sort of grammar is this? With whom am I corresponding? The diary wrote back below Ginny’s entry in an elegant script.

Ginny sucked in a breath and tried to still the slight shake in her quill hand. She looked up at Harry and asked, “Well?”

“Well what?”

She gave an exasperated huff. Boy-Who-Lived or not, he was certainly thick! “The diary just answered me. Did you er… see… see anything?”

Harry shook his head. “There’s no change to your signature or the diary’s.”

“Oh,” she said with relief.

Are you still there? the diary wrote again. Are you normally this rude?

Rude? No! Ginny wrote back. It’s just a surprise to have my diary write back. You’re a corresponding diary I suppose. I’ve heard of them but never had one before.

I see. Since you know about Corresponding Diaries, am I correct to assume you are of magical blood? You mentioned school work. Besides providing me your name, what school do you attend?

Oh, I’m sorry! My name is Ginny Weasley. I’m in my first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!

Ah ha, British then. Later 20th Century? Tell me, does Albus Dumbledore remain a professor at your school? He is, or perhaps was, a protégé of mine.

Professor Dumbledore is the Headmaster, sir, Ginny wrote. I don’t wish to be rude again, but Professor Dumbledore has worked with many wizards. Who are you, sir?

Yes, turn about is fair play, Miss. Allow me to make amends and properly introduce myself. My name is Nicolas Flamel.

THE Nicolas Flamel?

I am unaware that there are any others. Perhaps you can enlighten me?

Oh, no sir! I meant no disrespect. I never expected to write to someone so famous.

Well, of course.

I beg your pardon sir, but my study partner has returned with some reference books and I need to return to my essay.

Do so, young lady. Diligent academics are the basis for all success in life.

Well, thank you sir. I have to close you now, bye.
Ginny Weasley.

Setting the quill down and closing the diary, Ginny gripped the edge of the table. “That was not how Tom acted when I first wrote in him,” she said firmly. “I mean Tom encouraged me to write and tell him all about myself, and he was a really good listener.”

“Did you feel anything unusual with Nicolas? Sharp pain, headache, blurry vision?”

Ginny frowned at Remus. “No. But Mr. Flamel seems quite a stuffed shirt!”

Remus chuckled. “He did come off that way when you first met him. If you were to continue corresponding with him, you’d find he’d grow more accommodating to you and less…er… stuffy. He was a tremendous help with my Theory work. He was also one of Harry’s instructors.”

“Oh, no,” Ginny gasped. “I didn’t mean to be insulting!”

Harry’s snicker caused Ginny to blush and lower her head in shame. “Remus is right,” Harry said. “I grew up with him, and people who knew him like forever! But… yeah, he could be really stuffy at times.”

Remus cleared his throat, grabbing Ginny’s attention back from Harry. “What about with Tom? Did you have any headaches writing with him?”

“Oh, ah, well when I first got him, I’d write to him after my bedtime, under the sheets at home, and the light was really dim. That gave me headaches, but they stopped after a while. Is that important?”

“It could be, Ginny. Why don’t you try the other one now?”

Ginny reached over and grabbed a pale green book. Taking a deep breath, she opened it.

18 February, 1993
The diary of Ginny Weasley
I am currently working on a school project and my partner had to get another book. So I have decided to write in my new diary for the first time!

Again, Ginny held her breath as she watched the ink stay on the page. “So far so good, I think. What do you think?” she asked Harry, who looked at her and shrugged.

Hello, my dear. How are you?

Ginny thought the handwriting odd. It reminded her of the runes she had seen in some of Bill’s school books. She decided to try a slightly different approach with this diary.

You write back? Is this some sort of magic?

Of course this is magic, my dear. I am a Corresponding Diary, something people use to examine their thoughts. I can be a sounding board for you if you like, or I can be as unobtrusive as you wish.

Oh. Well, my name is Ginny. What is your name?

You may call me Helga, my dear.

Helga is a nice name! I’ve never had a corresponding diary before. I don’t want to be rude, but this will take some time to get used to!

Take your time, Ginny. Whatever you are comfortable with will be fine.

Do you have a name besides Helga? I mean who are you, how are you doing this? Wait, is this a prank?

No my dear, I am not a prank. I contain a collection of memories that belonged to Helga Hufflepuff. She was a founder of a magical school in Britain a long time ago. As you write to me I can begin to answer you if you have any questions. It is something we both must grow accustomed to if you wish to have me as a confidante.

Turning to Remus, Ginny said, “Helga Hufflepuff? This could be really great. But that’s what Tom told me, and he’s a memory in a book, too.”

She wondered if she should trust the book. Her intuition told her this diary was different, but what if it turned out to be like Tom? How could she be sure it was different? Glancing up at Harry she asked worriedly, “Is there anything unusual? I mean anything like what you saw with Tom the other day?”

Harry pursed his lips and squinted at Ginny and the diary. After a moment he shrugged and shook his head. “There’s no change in your signature or the diary’s, at least not so far,” he replied.

“All right then,” Ginny said quietly to herself. She took a deep breath, let it out, and began to write again.

You’re Helga Hufflepuff! I go to Hogwarts! This is my first year here. The castle is wonderful. But, well, I was sorted into Gryffindor House. I hope you aren’t mad at me for that.

Nonsense, Ginny. Godric was a dear friend of mine. I am sure you make him proud.

Ginny was comforted by the diary’s sincerity. It had a far different feel from Tom. Frowning, she realised that Tom was no longer trustworthy as a friend. She really wished she could find someone to confide in, someone she could talk to about the whirlwind of things she had learned and felt in the past week. Remus had offered, but he was… well, he was like Harry’s uncle or something. Not that she did not trust Remus, but that would be just plain weird. Yet how would Helga respond if she learned of Ginny’s situation? Harry said there was nothing hinky with the book’s magic.

There was only one way to decide if she could ever trust this book. Ginny swallowed nervously as her quill rasped across the page.

Oh, good! Helga, may I ask you a question? It’s sort of personal but I don’t really have anyone else to ask.

Ginny glanced briefly at Remus and gave him another pleading look.

I mean there is this boy I met and I think I really like him. Well, I think I might like him like him, but I think he would be a great friend too, at least for now. Maybe when we are both older- Ginny paused and gathered her thoughts and courage - we can have more than a friendship. But right now it’s confusing and really embarrassing at times because I feel foolish when he is about. I try to be myself, and I think he likes that, but it’s just so hard to know for sure. It’s a bit silly actually because I don’t really know that much about him, really, but I want to. To learn more that is. Is there something wrong with me?

No Ginny, there is nothing wrong with you! I would guess you are somewhere between 10 and 13 years of age, since this is your first year at Hogwarts. Boys are such marvellous creatures! A word of advice between you and me; boys can also be quite aggravating, especially when they are young like you. Many girls make the mistake of trying to be what they think the boy wants them to be, rather than be who they are themselves. You are a wise young lady if you’re already avoiding that. Stay yourself, and then you will know if he likes for who you are instead of for someone you are not.

Really? Thanks Helga! That does help a lot. I have to go now, but I hope I can write more later. Bye for now,
Ginny

Ginny closed the diary and sat back, a feeling of satisfaction coursing thought her. “Remus, would it be possible for me to keep this one? She seems really nice. I mean Tom was really nice at first, too, but Helga seems different. She isn’t… I don’t know… she doesn’t seem as prying, and I think I like that.”

“I have no problem with you keeping that diary, Ginny. If you get used to her, maybe you can write to Helga here at some future time and we can watch the signatures to see if there is any change. What do you think, Harry?”

Harry seemed startled and a bit confused at the question. He looked back and forth from Ginny to the study. “Think? I uh… I didn’t see anything we haven’t talked about before. All the signatures are uh… well… there’s nothing worth talking about right now. Maybe we could talk later, okay? Yeah, it’s a good idea to talk later, if there were any changes, you know. I mean if you don’t mind, Ginny. You know… keeping that diary to uh… to write in.”

Ginny sighed in relief. She allowed herself a slight smile at Harry. He definitely did not think anything was wrong with this diary. What Helga wrote sounded wise, and maybe she was right. Ginny would be herself, and that way she could find out if it was really her he liked. Harry gave her a funny look, and she realised she was staring at his eyes again. For the hundredth time, she wished she had no blood vessels in her face; they were only good for embarrassing her anyway. Without them, and if she could just slow her heartbeat back to normal, everything would be all right.

Remus brought the food from the kitchen, apologising for what he called a simple fare. Ginny, on the other hand, was delighted with the fish and chips. She rarely got an opportunity to eat them since her mum could not stand the taste of codfish. The vinegar dip had a subtle, yet spicy taste.

“This is really good, Remus! You have to let Blinkin know how much I liked it!” said Ginny.

Remus looked confused for a second and then smiled. “Blinkin didn’t prepare this, I did. I’m glad you like it!”

Ginny stared at Remus, not sure what to say. She and mum did all the cooking. She was not sure if her Dad or any of her brothers knew the first thing about an oven or stove. The thought of the Twins in the kitchen was downright frightening.

“I’m sorry for staring, but Mum would never let any of my brothers near the kitchen to cook.”

Harry gave her that wry smile. “I don’t know if I could make a big meal, but I am rather good with breakfasts and lunches. Stews and the sort. It’s fun, actually!”

Ginny nodded. “Mum finds cooking relaxing, I think. She only seems stressed when someone tries to help.”

“What about you, Ginny?” asked Remus. “Are you a handy sort in the kitchen?”

“A bit,” she said, swallowing a bite of fish. “Mum let me do more last year. Of course there was only Dad, Mum, and me at home then.”

“Well, maybe you and Harry can make a meal together some time,” Remus told her affably. Ginny felt her cheeks heat up and groaned to herself, wondering if she were causing the room to glow. She saw a look of concern and then understanding in Remus’ eyes. “Or not,” he added quickly, giving her an apologetic smile.

“There are a bunch of good things about a dinner like fish and chips, right Moony?” Harry interjected with a smirk.

Remus looked at him warily. “Such as…?”

Harry laughed aloud. “We don’t need butter or gravy!”

Ginny gasped and looked at Harry, her face heating up. Did he have to bring that up again?

“Harry…” Remus warned.

Harry ignored Remus’ tone and began an exaggerated tale of Remus drowning in the water from a cistern Ginny had spilled. She burned with embarrassment as he asked if her table in the dining hall was surrounded by a moat for everyone’s safety.

Remus gave Harry a stare her mum would have been proud of and sternly chided, “That was completely uncalled for.”

“Moony,” Harry teased, “Padfoot always says a boring conversation makes for a boring meal.” And then he had the audacity to laugh at her!

Ginny sank into her chair, not saying a word. She wanted the earth to open and swallow her up right there. How dare he! She tried hard not to cry, because that would add yet another incident to her growing string of embarrassments. Of course that first evening was one big embarrassment after another, too, and now Harry was taking the mickey for her nervous clumsiness at the table. Did he see her as nothing more than some lower-class joke? Looking down to her lap again, she shook her head slightly and blinked away tears.

“Harry!” Remus snapped. “Ginny is our guest here. She’s had several rather disturbing shocks over the past week, the latest being just now when she discovered that the supposed saviour of the wizarding world is nothing more that a spoilt, ill-mannered, common boor.”

Harry abruptly stopped laughing. “I am not spoilt, or ill mannered, or…or…common!” he answered, sounding very defensive. “Besides, look!” he added defiantly.

Ginny heard a clinking sound and something being poured out of a container, followed by another sharp “Harry!” from Remus. She raised her eyes to see Harry’s right robe sleeve dripping with something. He stuck it in his mouth and began to suck on it.

Harry looked across the table at Ginny, his wet sleeve above the bowl holding the vinegar, and let the cuff fall out of his mouth as he caught her eye. He laughed. “It worked with gravy the other night, I thought I’d try it with the vinegar.”

Ginny stared at him, dumbfounded. The whole scene was positively absurd. This is like something the Twins would do! With this thought, she snorted and began to laugh, too. That act of mirth broke the ice for her, and she haltingly began to explain to Harry and Remus some of her twin brothers’ antics at the family table.

On a whim, she also told them of her own prank on her brother Charlie over Christmas of his sixth year. “I had to go put his dirty clothes in the laundry basket and the clean ones, what few there were, in his room. His dirty clothes were nasty! I wondered if he had ever bothered to bathe or wash for the entire term. I’d found some wartcap powder in the Twins’ room while they were away at school, so I sprinkled it inside his pants as I put them in the drawer after unpacking his trunk.”

Harry and Remus both winced.

“He was walking sorta funny by lunch the next day, and he finally asked Mum for help with a ‘problem.’ Naturally, she wanted to know what it was, and he was really embarrassed he had to remove his trousers to show her. Mum was a bit shocked and asked him how it had happened. He guessed it was me, but since I am such an innocent angel,” she paused and batted her eyelashes, “he couldn’t blame me without proof. However, he stared at me, right past Mum, and said, ‘I believe a girl is responsible for this!’ Mum didn’t get the hint; instead she began to yell that this is what happens to those who cavorted with ‘scarlet women’. He tried to argue with her and that got him her version of ‘The Talk’ at the top of her lungs. Unfortunately, all the rest of us got it, too.”

Harry had initially looked confused, but he joined Remus as the man roared with laughter.

Ginny glowed inside as the other two laughed at her story. They thought she was funny!

Remus wiped his eyes with his napkin and put it back on his lap. Looking down he began to laugh all over again. “You must definitely tell Sirius that story some day. He is going to be upset he missed hearing it now.”

Sniffing in an attempt to control his snickering, Remus told Ginny and Harry, “On that note, I am going to have to excuse myself. I have a potion to test, plus I need to grade a Potions essay that was turned in late.” Harry flinched slightly at this. “Harry, why don’t you clean up here while Ginny has a seat in the lounge?”

“I can help clean up,” Ginny said tentatively. “It’s… it’s my chore at home.”

“Sure!” chirped Harry. “I’d love the help.”

“Well…” temporised Remus. “All right. Ginny, don’t let this spoilt, ill-mannered boor have you do everything. He can be sneaky that way.” Remus gave her a big wink and left the dining room.

The two children cleared the table and put the dirty dishes and utensils in the sink. Harry peeked out of the kitchen in the direction Remus had left. “Do you know any washing charms?” he whispered.

“Sure,” replied Ginny, “I can have these washed and dried in a trice.”

“Oh, great! Let me watch you, okay? Maybe you can teach them to me.” Ginny shot Harry a confused look. She knew something he did not? “I mean I know some cleaning charms, but none for washing dishes.”

“Really? I can show you. I’d be happy to teach you.”

“That would be great,” Harry said, sounding grateful. “Can I just watch you do the first few dishes?”

“Okay, if you think that will help.” With Harry watching her, Ginny self-consciously started the cleaning charm on the dishes in the sink. She followed with a rinse charm and then a drying charm. She did these slowly, one at a time, with several dishes. Harry watched her closely, almost squinting at her hand and wand. When she caught him squinting he would look away, out of the kitchen and towards the lounge. Ginny just shrugged at his odd behaviour.

“Mum helped guide me with the wand movements before teaching me the words. I can do that next, if it’s all right with you.” At Harry’s nod she stood behind him, hoping her hands were not too shaky or sweaty as she reached around him and gingerly held his wand hand. Carefully, she guided him through the proper motions. Satisfied that he could move his wand correctly, she let him practice the motions several times on his own. After that she went over the specific incantations, again having him practice the pronunciation until he was comfortable with it.

“Thanks,” said Harry, gratefully, as he washed several dishes on his own. When she was certain he grasped the individual charms, Ginny taught him the charm to make everything happen automatically. Harry watched as the dishes moved from the sink to the drying rack and said, “You’re a pretty good teacher!”

Ginny smiled shyly and replied, “Well, that’s just how Mum taught me. I’m surprised your -” Ginny’s face went white, and she drew in a sharp breath. She silently begged the Fates to allow her to be swallowed up into the earth. “Oh, Harry, I’m sorry… I didn’t think… I mean… Oh, I am such an idiot!” she said miserably.

A look of intense sadness flashed in Harry’s green eyes. He gave her a little smile that did not reach those eyes. “It’s okay, Ginny. I know what you meant. You made it easy for me to learn those charms. Your mum must be brilliant.” He gave her that wry smile, and this time it reached his eyes. Her heart twisted as she mentally berated herself for her thoughtlessness.

Harry cleared his throat. “Yes, well, why don’t we have a seat, and you can have your turn to ask me questions.” They sat on opposite ends of the sofa that overlooked the lake.

Ginny awkwardly smoothed her robes over her lap several times, not looking beyond the centre of the sofa. She could ask Harry Potter any question she wanted. Harry Potter! But what should she ask first? Years worth of questions flashed through her consciousness. She did not want to say anything ignorant again. Ginny thought of a question she expected would be pretty safe. Taking a deep breath she asked, “Did you see much of America when you were in those Dark Magic clinics?”

Harry blinked, blushed, and stammered, “Well, I…er…I was never in any Dark Magic clinics, and I haven’t been to America, I mean not to the American part anyway. That must be one of the stories made up about me to confuse people.”

“Oh.” Ginny suddenly felt quite stupid. “Were… did he…were you hurt?” she blurted.

Pointing at his forehead, Harry shrugged and said, “I got this scar. We think it was caused by the Avada Kedavra curse bouncing off me. Dumbledore himself doesn’t know what really happened or why this scar won’t fade.”

Ginny swallowed conspicuously and stared at the scar for a long second. That really is a curse scar! She shook her head as if coming out of a trance. “I’m so sorry,” she said softly, “but thank you.”

Harry shrugged again. “Um, you’re welcome, I guess,” he said quietly. “I’ve always had it. I like to think it makes me rather dashing.” He gave her a slight smile.

Ginny did want to ask Harry more about that scar. However, feeling he might consider that rude and prying, she went back to her original ‘safe’ question. “So you never went to America?”

“Not for a clinic or anything. Sirius owns a bunch of land and an estate in Canada. It’s in Alberta Province, near a place called Banff. It is really pretty there, with a huge forest of evergreen trees and enough room to fly forever without worrying about Muggles seeing you.”

Curious, Ginny asked, “Do you go there often? I mean I would think this tower would be kinda confining after a while, wouldn’t it?”

“Sirius and I travel during my school breaks. Remus joins us when he can, but he always seems to be working on his Theory of Magic papers.” Harry looked at her and gave a noncommittal shrug.

“So were you ever in Nepal or Spitzenberg?” Ginny asked, confused.

Harry wore a puzzled look. “No, I don’t remember ever going there. I don’t even know where the second place is,” he added with a forced smile. “We usually stay in places where Sirius has estates or flats. For my safety they are in the Muggle parts of cities. Besides Canada... Let’s see… I’ve been to Teheran, Abu Dhabi, Tokyo, Caracas, and Modena.” He paused as that wry smile graced his face for a moment. “Sirius likes fast autos. He also owns a sheep ranch in Queensland Australia and two vineyards. One’s in Bordeaux, spread out about an old Muggle castle. The other one’s in California, but that one is new. I haven’t been there yet. Anyway, um… Canada’s my favourite.”

Ginny stared wide-eyed and then blinked. Sweet Merlin! He’s been all over the world! What she stammered was, “Oh. The Black family has houses in all those places?”

“Er... actually those are only the ones Sirius owns. His mother won’t allow him stay in any of the family owned properties.” Harry blushed at her continued wide-eyed gaze.

“What about your own home?” she asked slowly.

“My own home?” he asked, confused. A flash of comprehension lit his eyes. “Oh, um… I don’t remember anything about where we lived when I was little,” he said quietly. “Sirius and Moody thought it safer if I stay away from any Potter family properties until I am of age. Sirius keeps track of them through my family’s account managers at Gringotts. –“

Account managers at Gringotts? Only really rich people have those!

“- He’s contracted for Goblin guards to keep watch on them, so we know if anyone tries to enter any of the houses without permission.”

“So, you have houses, too, and stuff you’ve never seen?” she asked incredulously.

“Er… no. I mean I’ve never seen any of them, not even our cottage in Godric’s Hollow. I hope… I want to see them someday. Maybe.”

“Maybe?” Ginny asked curiously. She thought it odd that Harry looked like he was caught out of bounds by Filch. He merely gave another small shrug. Ginny sat waiting for him to say more, but as the silence dragged on she realised he was not going to give any more of an answer.

While she waited for Harry’s answer she noticed that, somehow, they were both sitting much closer to the centre of the sofa than they had been before. She did not remember moving and had a fleeting moment of panic similar to waking up after one of her blackouts. Ginny took a deep breath and swallowed. Harry seemed ill-at-ease with these questions, so she thought of a topic that would, perhaps, be comfortable for them both.

“Who’s your favourite Quidditch team?”

Harry looked unsure. “I don’t really have one, a favourite I mean. Sirius is part owner of Portree -”

Ginny looked at him, stunned. Sirius owns a professional Quidditch team? Who the bloody hell are these people?

“- and I like the Wimbourne Wasps’ uniforms. So I guess they’re my favourites. I mean they’re the teams I follow the most.”

Harry still looked uneasy, but Quidditch was a very comfortable topic for Ginny. Recovering her bearings, she snorted. “Obviously you’re someone else who doesn’t know what the top half of the tables looks like,” she said with an antagonistic tone. To emphasise her point, she slowly shook her head and sighed. Despite his godfather owning a team, Harry clearly did not know that much about Quidditch.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Harry replied, sounding annoyed.

“Well at least your taste in teams is better than my brother Ron’s. He is a do-or-die Cannons fan.”

Harry stared at her, nonplussed. “Are you having me on? The Cannons? Is he mental or something?”

Ginny giggled. “That’s a question my family’s been asking for years!”

“So who is your favourite team?” Harry asked eagerly.

“Holyhead Harpies! I‘ve been a fan for as long as I’ve followed Quidditch,” she answered proudly.

“The all-girl team?” Harry burst out laughing, to Ginny’s surprise. “You must be mental as your brother!”

He had made fun of her again; how dare he! In a fit of pique Ginny punched him in the shoulder as hard as she could.

“Hey! Ow!! That hurt!” said Harry in an aggrieved tone. “And… and that wasn’t very nice,” he whined.

Ginny glared at him. “Mind your manners and I’ll mind mine!” Harry rubbed his shoulder and glared back at her. “Besides,” Ginny continued haughtily, “the last time I checked, Holyhead was above Wimbourne and Portree in the tables.”

“Oh… well… yeah. But the season has only begun.”

Ginny scowled at him. “Did you bother to follow the tables last season?” she said in challenging tone of voice.

Harry looked stunned for a second. “Well…” he slowly admitted, “yeah, they did really well last year.” Ginny continued to glare at him and then huffed. “Okay, the past five seasons. But still, an all-girl team is silly!” he said emphatically, “and so are you for rooting for them.” He began to laugh aloud again.

Ginny sat on the couch growing progressively angrier. This… this mocking, over privileged toff. How dare he treat her like this? “I guess Remus is right,” she spat.

Harry stopped laughing and frowned in confusion. “Right about what?”

“You are a boor!” she yelled in frustration, her voice catching slightly.

“I am not!” Harry replied, affronted. Ginny continued to glare at him. “Well I don’t think I am.” Ginny scooted away from Harry, back to her end of the couch. “Am I?” Harry finished in a melancholy tone.

Now in high dudgeon, Ginny finally lost her patience. “Just who do you think you are? Some nob that feels all noble by looking down and taking pity on us lesser folk? Is this your good deed for the week, bothering to talk Quidditch to some… to some stupid little girl?” She turned away and glared out the window as she blinked back tears and reined in her emotions.

There were many things she wanted to know about Harry, and many things she would like him to know about her. However, something she had never considered was that the Boy Who Lived would actually be ‘The Boy Who Is As Big A Prat As My Thick-Headed Brother Ron’. Ginny honestly did not know what to do. Harry had seemed so nice when they were in the anteroom with the professors the previous week. Was that all an act? Was he still trying to only ‘make her comfortable’?

She stewed in silence for a long time, ignoring a very quiet Harry. Still at the other end of the couch, she unconsciously began to worry at the key beneath her robes, pondering this completely unexpected turn of events. She had once relied on Tom for advice about situations like this, when she did not know what to do. But since he had hurt her after the Christmas holidays, she knew she could never again trust him enough to ask a question this personal.

What am I supposed to do now? she thought miserably.

Remus’ voice was a welcomed relief as he called down from the stairwell. “Ginny, I need you to get ready to return to your tower. I didn’t realise it was getting his late. Harry, have you finished the Arithmancy problems for tomorrow’s lesson?” Ginny stood abruptly as Remus entered the lounge. He looked between her and Harry, a frown appearing on his face.

“Thank you, Remus,” said Ginny in a formal tone. “I think it is past time for me to leave,” she finished frostily, and then brusquely walked out of the lounge. Remus quickly followed her, grabbed his cloak, and led her out through the tower’s entrance door.

Harry did not hear the door open and close. He was in the third floor gymnasium, completely focused on swinging punches as hard as he could at the gym’s hanging bag. He knew Master MacClellan would have his head for such poor form, but he did not care; he did not want to be in control. He wanted to burn off his aggravation. He wanted to rage, to hurt something, hoping maybe this whole evening would then make some sense.

What the bloody hell went wrong tonight? he thought as a clumsy combination slid off the side of the bag.

Remus called out, “Can you tell me what happened, Harry?”

Startled, Harry dodged away and rolled upright, fumbling for his wand through the stupid boxing gloves.

“Who says anything happened?” he snapped in response.

“Although she tried her best to hide it, Ginny was in tears all the way back to her dorm, and I come back to find you losing a fight to the punching bag.” Remus met Harry’s glare and smirked slightly.

Harry did not care that he sounded defensive as he answered, “Who says I’m frustrated? Maybe I like boxing; maybe, maybe I was trying something new to confuse an opponent! And I wasn’t losing!”

“Harry, you hate the smell of those gloves. What happened?” Remus asked again, gently.

“I dunno!” Harry answered, his voice sounding ragged. “We were talking and stuff, and then she got all mad at me and left!”

With a slight sigh Remus asked, “What were you talking about?”

“I dunno. I told you, just stuff. She asked about where I travelled. People really think I’ve been travelling to Healer clinics all over the world looking to have Dark Magic injuries healed? Merlin’s balls, Moony! I thought that was something you and Sirius made up as a joke! She told me her favourite Quidditch team is the Harpies, and I told her I thought it silly to like a team that only has girls.”

Remus heaved a larger sigh. “You made fun of her at dinner and then laughed at her over her choice of Quidditch team?” The older man shook his head, the slightest of smiles on his lips. “You are lucky she didn’t hex you into oblivion.”

“Well, so what? I don’t understand!” Harry shouted in frustration. “I make fun of you and Sirius all the time, and you don’t get mad at me.”

Remus paused and looked at Harry with pity. “Oh, Harry. Sirius and I have known each other for over twenty years. You grew up with us. We know each other rather well. Ginny doesn’t. She doesn’t know us at all. We are complete strangers to her. Have you considered that? A week ago she didn’t even know you were alive, and now she’s thrown into a strange situation and is probably quite overwhelmed. Friends are not made overnight, Harry. And to tell the truth, you both will have missteps along the way. But none of that will matter if you work to be her friend, and vice versa. Perhaps you should try to be less… less… abrupt with her. You’ll see.”

“Would it help if I apologised?” Harry asked as an idea formed in his head.

“Yes, that’s a good start. It wouldn’t hurt. Perhaps when she comes over on Saturday. Now, why don’t you have a shower, and then it’s off to bed with you.”

“All right. Good night, Remus.”

The older man smiled and said, “Good night, Harry.”

Harry walked down to his bedroom deep in thought, his idea developing into a plan. He started the bathroom shower to cover any other noise he would make. Ginny was really nice and funny. She liked Quidditch, and she still smelled like wildflowers. I’m a bloody idiot, Harry thought, a bloody idiot, pure and simple. A voice, sounding like Ginny’s, whispered in his head, “The Boor Who Lived.” Harry pushed his hands against his ears trying to silence the voice; he knew he was better than that. He would not wait until Saturday to apologise.

Harry went to his desk and pulled out a piece of parchment, setting it next to the Helga diary he had brought to his room after Ginny and Remus left the tower. Writing an instruction on the back side, he then tapped his wand on the right side of the parchment and said “Ginny Revealo.” Harry paused, trying to remember the proper phrasing for a formal apology. Ginny deserved nothing less.

When finished, he continued to write what he thought was a rather long letter and actually added several more thoughts as post scripts. He looked over the letter and, satisfied with what he had written, tied the parchment around the diary. Using the shower noise to mask his footsteps, he snuck up to the sixth floor owlery and softly called, “Aurora.” An eagle owl came down and smoothly alit on his offered arm.

Harry urgently told the owl, "I’ve got a special delivery for you, girl. Take this to Ginny Weasley in the Gryffindor Tower right now. Okay? I'll have some extra owl treats waiting for you!” The owl stuck out her leg. After Harry attached the book and parchment, she gently cuffed Harry on the head as she spread her wings and flew off into the night.

As Harry returned to his room he heard Remus call, “Good grief, Harry, are you trying to drown in there?”

“I’ve just finished, Remus. I think this shower really helped tonight.”

Ginny had never been more grateful for the castle’s dark, creepy hallways. She had walked with her head down, hair falling over her face, certain Remus could not see her red eyes or hear her sniffles. Stepping through the portrait hole, she was actually relieved that none of her brothers had waited up for her. Opening the door to her room, her hope that her roommates were also in bed asleep was dashed. The Kates were in the middle of a vigorous pillow fight with Vivien looking on. All three looked at her as she slipped into the room.

“Oh look! It’s that measly hellion,” gloated the brunette Kate.

Not now, not tonight, thought Ginny as she gritted her teeth.

“Don’t you mean hell cat?” snickered the raven-haired Kate.

“Well she certainly looks like hell!” Both Kates began to giggle at their little joke.

I cannot begin to cry; not now, Ginny willed herself.

“Was detention bad tonight?” asked Vivien with concern.

Ginny looked at her, gave her a weak smile, and nodded. “I’ve had better evenings,” she said quietly. Collecting her nightclothes and toiletries, she walked past the giggling Kates with all the dignity she could muster and into the bathroom. Closing the door, Ginny leaned against the back side and pressed her fist against her mouth so she would not sob. Taking several deep breaths, she went to the sink, splashed cold water on her face and patted it dry. She groaned when she realised that she had left her comb on the stand next to her bed, but at least she could brush her teeth in the privacy of the bathroom.

Ginny paused as she undressed for bed, staring into the mirror. Against her bare chest lay that beautiful gold key. It looked so out of place on her short, skinny body. And she had all those freckles. They fanned across her nose and cheeks. They started again just below her shoulders all the way down her arms and down her chest, fading over her abdomen. She knew they were also down her back all the way to her bum. The freckles were ugly and they made her ugly, too. She hated them, she hated herself, and nobody cared about her.

A high pitched, oddly seductive voice whispered faintly in her mind. You know that’s how your soul looks, Ginny. When you killed those roosters you made it spotted and ugly, too. Who would want to have you as a friend? Even this boy you fancy is disgusted with you. He doesn’t care; he mocked your offer of friendship. But I still care, Ginny. You think you can forget me, but I won’t forget you. I am all you have left. You are alone; no one cares about you anymore. You will come back to me, Ginny. You always do. And I’ll be waiting…

Ginny shuddered and looked about as she folded her arms self-consciously over her chest. She had not heard Tom’s voice in her head without the diary open since before Christmas. She was frightened that he would know she had stopped writing to him again. He would be mad, and he was not very nice when he was mad. He always told her it was her fault he got mad; Ginny hated herself all the more because she always agreed with him in the end. She knew he would hurt her if she went back to him. I’d rather die than suffer that again, she thought. No, Ginny told herself, she could not go back to Tom. Not now, not ever.

Unfolding her arms, she held the gold key away from her. Ginny marvelled at its simple beauty and its constant warmth against her skin. The knowledge that Harry was alive and that she knew him was warming, too. She was certain that, for once, Tom was wrong.

Despite this, her self doubts rose again. What was she doing? Who did she think she was to try to make friends with such people, with Harry … no… with The Boy Who Lived? She was beneath them, and they all knew it. No wonder Harry made fun of her. Pulling her night shirt over her head and wrapping her robe tightly about her, she opened the door and rushed to her bed. Ginny grabbed her comb, closed the drapes about her bed, and began running it through her hair, reflecting on the evening’s events.

She had been so excited to see Harry again. But Sirius was off at some social event she would only read about in a magazine, yet he treated it as a bother. Harry had laughed at her awkwardness and then made fun of her Quidditch team. Before coming to Hogwarts she considered her trips to Ottery St. Catchpole big events. The rare journeys to the Kings Cross station in London were truly red letter days. Harry, however, thought nothing of travelling and owning land and estates all over the world.

Harry was The Boy Who Lived. What did she think she was doing? She was a tainted girl in second-hand robes from a second-hand life. She took the key out from under her nightshirt and played with it, the gold warmly reflecting the candlelight from the headboard sconce. Her mother always said not to make decisions in haste. But she wondered if she ought to tell Professor Dumbledore that this was all a mistake, to take back the key and Obliviate her. She decided to tell the Headmaster just that in the morning. For the moment she curled into a ball and wept silently, letting her despair consume her at last. She drifted off to a restless sleep holding the key in her hand.

Ginny did not think she had been asleep very long when those bloody Kates began to make a racket.

“Open the window, for goodness’ sake. It wants in and won’t stop tapping ‘til you let it.”

“Who’s it for? This is such a beautiful owl.”

“How do you know it‘s safe?” Ginny heard Vivien’s voice whisper fearfully.

“Honestly, Vivien,” sneered the brunette Kate. “Come to me, you silly bird,” she continued, expectantly.

“Hey! Not her,” said both Kates at once.

Ginny saw her drapes flutter. She dropped the key beneath her nightshirt, wiped her eyes, and parted the bed drapes. A large, regal owl promptly landed on her duvet and gracefully held out its leg. In wide-eyed surprise, Ginny looked at the owl, then at the package tied to its leg, and then at the window.

“Who would write her?” raven-haired Kate sputtered.

“Do you think she’s in more trouble?” brunette Kate asked hopefully.

“Probably,” the other Kate snorted. “Unless she has a secret lover!” The Kates began to laugh and looked at Ginny expectantly.

Untying the bundle, Ginny looked at the parchment about the package. “It’s from Professor Dumbledore,” she said in a flat monotone. “He’s reminding me I have detention all day Saturday.”

“See,” brunette Kate said gleefully, “I was right! She’s still in trouble! He sent her a composition book for her to write lines.” She laughed and closed the window as the large owl flew away. They both returned to their beds laughing at Ginny’s misfortune.

Ginny closed her drapes and peered at the parchment. She had lied; she did not know who had sent the note with the package, but it was not Dumbledore’s handwriting. On the outside, in the unfamiliar hand, was written, Read in private. Say your name and tap the right side with your wand. Intrigued, she peeked out of the bed drapes and let a frustrated sigh. Her wand was just beyond reach on her nightstand. She looked about quickly, saw that none of her roommates were in sight, and called her wand to her hand. Removing the parchment note, she saw that it surrounded her Helga Hufflepuff diary. Remus must have sent it, she thought sadly. It was something else she would return in the morning.

She felt silly as she whispered, “Ginny,” to the parchment and tapped it with her wand. She blinked as the same unfamiliar and rather untidy writing appeared on the parchment scroll. Ginny started to read the note quickly but stopped in shock. She stared at it, hardly able to breathe. Ginny reverently touched her key and began to reread the note slowly, a smile appearing on her lips as she savoured the words.

To Miss Ginny Weasley:
My behaviour earlier this evening was really stupid wrong and unbecoming as head of the Potter Family. I pray that you accept this apology, and my solemn pledge to not repeat my bad shameful lack of manners.
Humbly at your service,
Harry James Potter

Dear Ginny,
Okay, I didn’t want to wait until Saturday to apologise, you deserve better. I will apologise again, personally, when we see each other again. I’m sorry I was a prat. I didn’t mean to insult you even if I did. I mean I make fun of Sirius and Remus all the time and that’s okay because we know each other really well. So I thought it was okay to act the same way with you. I now understand that I don’t know you that well, at least not yet, and so my behaviour wasn’t nice. I wasn’t being a good friend. Remus told me making friends took time and hard work. I didn’t know what that meant until now. I still want very much to be your friend, and to have you as mine. Will you help me to behave nicer around you? Because you can see I don’t know how. In return I can help you with your schoolwork. If you want me to that is. I’m actually pretty good with that. I will hard try not to be a berk boor next time.
Your friend (I hope),
Harry
P.S. The story about your prank on your brother was brilliant.
P.P.S. The book is your new diary you left here when you left mad (sorry).
P.P.P.S. Hide this letter somewhere safe. It is charmed so only you can read it, but I would rather no one find it anyway.
P.P.P.P.S. Don’t tell anyone about this letter! Remus and Sirius will have my arse if they find out.
Your friend (still I hope),
Harry

A/N: Viridian introduced the idea of a formal wizard’s society apology in Nightmares of Futures Past. I sort of expanded on it here.