She was so beautiful. Harry had never seen such beauty throughout his entire life. Her skin was fair and flawless, her eyes, dark like melted chocolate, created endless swarms of butterflies to form in Harry's stomach. Her raven-black hair swished gracefully as she walked; it made Harry’s stomach fill with butterflies just thinking of it. Her beauty entranced him to the point of his only being able to think about her. As Harry slept on, dreaming of this amazing, perfect girl, a dopey grin spread across his face.





Angela Petersen was an American witch whom Harry had met at the Career Conference for Aspiring Witches and Wizards. Ever since Dumbledore died, Harry had wanted to get information useful to his quest for Voldemort, considering becoming an Auror in the hope that they would train him enough that he would be able to fight him. However, after he met Angela, a new goal took root in the already dilapidated old one. She told Harry about a wizard exchange program between the schools and the possibility of her signing up to spend a year at Hogwarts, shadowing Harry and learning the ins and outs of Hogwarts life. It was the perfect opportunity.





Harry had spent a good portion of his summer at the Weasleys’. He usually spent his days practicing Quidditch with Ron in the small paddock up the hill from the Burrow. Quidditch was Harry’s life. Just the sensation of flying gave him an enormous rush that often went to his head. But outside of Hogwarts grounds, he had to be careful not to take his Firebolt too high in case Muggles should notice anything out of the ordinary.





The only other thing Harry did that summer was write to Angela. Mostly he wrote to her about what Hogwarts was like, what she would need, and went into as much detail as he could about the teachers and classes. He also frequently wrote about himself, his friends, and how eager he was to see her again. Harry got into so much depth with the letters that it often took days to complete just one. He didn’t want Angela to come to school and be completely unaware of what had gone on in Harry’s life up to that point. He wanted her to be as comfortable at Hogwarts as he was, maybe even more so. The words could not come out of his quill fast enough.





She replied to each of his letters with her owl, Lorenzo, whose feathers were a profound black in contrast to Hedwig’s snowy white plumage. She updated him every time her school’s headmaster told her more about the exchange program. Apparently, she was taking a boat across the ocean, sending her things via the Ministry of Magic, and was to meet Harry at the Leaky Cauldron the day before school started so she could buy all of her things for Hogwarts. Harry copied the supplies list for her so she could transfer sufficient galleons to Gringotts.





In her letters, Angela also told Harry more about herself. For instance, she was Muggle-born (her family took the news that she was a witch rather well, changing much of their Muggle money into Galleons so that she would have enough for her school things.) She was also a seventh year at her school, the Gizellda Acadamy. And, what Harry found most amazing about her, she was a Seeker on her school’s Quidditch team. However, to Harry’s great bewilderment, she also frequently pointed out her flaws, such as her tendency to sleep-talk, be obnoxiously loud, self-conscious, and get very angry at people for peculiar reasons, such as sniffling, mumbling inaudibly when they spoke to her, or moving their lips while they read. Harry wondered why she told him all of this but didn’t care, as long as she didn’t mind his tendency to skive off his Divination homework.





Before he finished his fourth letter to Angela, it was already mid-August. By that time, Hermione had come to the Burrow to go shopping with Harry and the Weasleys at Diagon Alley. They talked and played wizarding chess, Ron beating Harry every time, the two of them laughing as Harry’s king was beaten into a powder. But the tension grew higher as the date drew closer to September 1. It was the day before when Harry awoke suddenly.





Harry found himself waking up to see Ron fully alert, wearing his maroon pajamas, which by this time went barely halfway down his shins, and an unusually grim expression on his face. Harry grabbed his glasses off of the bed stand, and looked around the room. Today they were going shopping in Diagon Alley, and Harry would see Angela for the first time since they met in July. Harry looked back at Ron. He had to say something, or Harry would feel useless in the presence of his best friend, a thing he cringed at the mere thought of.





“Ron, we’re going shopping in Diagon Alley today and you look miserable. What’s wrong?”





“What’s wrong? Bloody hell, Harry, this is our last year at Hogwarts, and I haven’t even figured out what I’m going to do after we leave school! Charlie has Romania and his dragons, Bill has Gringotts and Fleur,” Ron paused to blush to the point of almost matching his pajamas, “Fred and George have their joke shop, and what have I got? A bunch of hand-me-down robes and a year to figure what to do with myself. Does that sound particularly cheery to you, Harry? Does it?”





“No, Ron, I can’t say it does,” Harry replied hastily, pulling on his trainers and tying them sloppily. “But we have all year to find out, and only a few minutes to get dressed. Come on, we don’t want to be late.”





“Why’re you so keen about being on ti… Harry, you great bastard!” A smile spread across Ron’s face as comprehension finally dawned on him. “You just want to get to Diagon Alley so you can meet your girlfriend! What’s her name again? Amy …Amanda...”





“Angela,” Harry said, realizing his chest had involuntarily puffed out a little more than he would’ve liked, making him look like the underdressed version of the Muggle comic book hero, Super Man. He quickly assumed his normal posture. “And she’s not my girlfriend, she’s my friend, so just leave it, alright?”





“Ooh, getting all defensive about your girlfriend, eh Harry?” Harry could tell Ron was enjoying this, but at least he had gotten his mind off school. Harry and Ron dressed and went downstairs for breakfast, where they were ambushed by Mrs. Weasley with a skillet full of sausages and eggs.





“What took you boys so long?” she asked. “Hermione and Ginny have already eaten and brought their trunks down,” she said, pointing her skillet in the direction of the girls, who were sitting at the table reading the Daily Prophet and apparently giggling at an article about witches’ rights activists parading around London with signs bearing slogans such as “What’s Wrong With Scrimgeour?” and “Give Us Our Rights and We’ll Give You Your Dinner. ”





“You’d better hurry, or we’ll worry Harry’s friend, who’ll be expecting us at the Leaky Cauldron fairly soon.” Mrs. Weasley fussed.





Ginny looked up quickly.





“What friend?” she asked. Harry gulped silently. He had meant to tell Ginny about Angela when they arrived at Diagon Alley. However, it seemed he had no choice but to explain now.





“Angela is a friend of mine who will be joining us at Hogwarts this year. She wanted me to go shopping with her so she would know where to buy her school things,” he said, albeit reluctantly.





Ginny stared at him blankly, obviously too shocked to say anything.





Harry knew what she was thinking, and he didn’t want to make her think that their breakup meant nothing. “She’s not my girlfriend,” he added hastily, “or I would have talked to you about her earlier. She’s really great, I think you’ll like her.” Hermione gave a rather loud snort, as though to say she seriously doubted that would ever happen. Harry blushed.





This is it, Harry thought. She hates me. I really shouldn’t have kept this from her for so long. Harry was furious with himself, but he knew he’d have to tell her before they actually met.





“I’m sure I will.” Ginny plastered what was clearly a false smile across her face; it pained Harry to look at her like this. He ate his breakfast and went back upstairs to get his list of materials, most of which, he realized, he already had. The only things he needed were robes and books, as well as a restock of various Potions ingredients he had run out of. He went back downstairs. Everyone was waiting for him, and Ginny had an unpleasantly cold look upon her face. Mrs. Weasley broke the uncomfortable silence.





“The car’s waiting outside dear. Let’s go before traffic backs up too badly.” The children followed her out the door in silence.

Harry and the others went outside. There was a Ministry car waiting for them in front the unkempt lawn. They walked through it, being careful not to step on a gnome or any other creatures that might bite them. When they got to the car, a chauffer in a chartreuse blazer with gold buttons down the front got out of the driver’s seat, walked around the rather large sedan, and opened the door. The five of them loaded into the car.

Harry was used to the interior by now. An Engorgement charm had been placed on it, making it the size of a small ballroom inside, while remaining in normal proportions on the exterior.

The ride to Diagon Alley was silent. Ginny seemed to be indifferent to anything Harry did anymore. Harry was feeling awkward about how Angela would receive the fact that Ginny was his ex-girlfriend, as Harry enjoyed their company almost equally. And Ron, well, Ron just didn’t want to make things more awkward than they already were.

At last, they had reached the Leaky Cauldron. Mrs. Weasley and Hermione got out first, then Harry and Ron, and finally Ginny, who seemed to be dragging her heels the whole time.

Inside, the Leaky Cauldron was dim, smoke lingered over the heads of shady looking wizards, wearing hoods that concealed their faces as they played cards, using ominous objects, such as large medallions or small, moving boxes with holes poked in them as their bets. Harry looked at his watch, then looked around. He saw a witch with a long ponytail down her back sitting at the bar, sipping a butterbeer as she looked at the ancient clock sitting on the mantelpiece. Harry walked up behind her silently.

“Hey,” he whispered in her ear.

“Harry!”, she gasped, sloshing butterbeer all down the front of her shirt. “You scared me!”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to.” Harry turned a violent shade of pink as Mrs. Weasley rushed up to the bar, her wand in hand.

“Hold on just a moment, dear. Scourgify.” The spilled butterbeer disappeared from Angela’s shirt. “There, much better. Harry, you haven’t introduced me to your friend yet!”

Now it was Angela’s turn to go pink. “Oh, sorry. I’m Angela Petersen, and you must be Ron’s mother. ”

“Quite right, dear,” replied Mrs. Weasley warmly. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“And you as well, Mrs. Weasley. Thank you so much for letting me shop with you today, I really didn’t want to be a burden.”

“Oh, no dear, it’s actually quite nice that you’ve come,” Mrs. Weasley said conversationally. “Harry can’t stop talking about you”

“Thanks Mrs. Weasley,” Harry interrupted, feeling his face burn, wishing for the first time in his life that it was his scar that hurt and not his self-respect. “I think I can take it from here.” Ginny stared coldly at the back of Harry’s head, wishing it would explode all over Angela.

“Of course, dear. Go right ahead, then!”

Harry introduced Angela to Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, who had shaken her hand so hard Angela’s knuckles had gone pale, and led them into the alley behind the bar. Harry, leading the way, walked over to the center trash bin, and tapped a brick above the dustbin. Suddenly, the bricks began to arrange themselves into a gateway, and Harry looked over to Angela. Her face was filled with awe. Harry remembered when he had first been escorted into Diagon Alley six years ago, and how it had become one of his favorite places, save for Hogwarts. He then snapped back into reality as the gateway was complete. He took Angela by the arm and let her through. The others followed behind.

Now Angela was truly awestruck. “This is amazing. I used to have to get my stuff by mail order; my wand and robes were the only ones I had to go to the shop to try on.” Harry imagined a Muggle post man carrying a package with the return label saying:

Flourish and Blotts Bookestore
265 Diagon Alley
London, England

The thought made him laugh out loud. Angela looked to him with somewhat of a quirky smile. He felt his ears going a delicate shade of scarlet. He never felt this way when talking to a girl, save maybe for Cho Chang, his previous semi-girlfriend in his fifth year whose constant blubbering over her deceased boyfriend, Cedric Diggory, made their relationship break apart quite quickly. But Harry had a strange feeling that this, he and Angela, just might have more luck. He liked Angela too much to hurt her. But he wanted her, and nothing or nobody could change that.

However, Ginny, who was still dragging her feet as Harry gave Angela a tour of Diagon Alley, was thinking. Questions began to fill her head like water seeping into a submerged car. How did Harry meet Angela? Why didn’t Harry tell her that he was already dating again? She was furious, she hated Angela even though she had just met her. But if Harry felt that she was the one for him, she thought, it wasn’t worth breaking his heart. She cared for him too much to do that. But she wanted to make her suffer, no matter what he felt.
Meanwhile, Hermione beckoned Harry from behind a rack of secondhand robes once the group entered Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions.

“Harry, can I speak to you for a moment, please?”

“Sure, Hermione. Can you hold on for a moment, Angela? Yes, that would look stunning on you!” Angela was holding up a midnight blue dress with frilly cuffs and an extremely tight bodice, which made her look like an overdressed tavern wench in Hermione’s opinion.

Hermione sighed. She pulled Harry behind the rack and whispered, “Harry, why didn’t you tell Ginny about Angela before today? Was it because you two broke up? Because that would be even more reason to tell her! Did you even consider her?”

Harry had considered. Before he met Angela, he had even regretted breaking up with Ginny. But he finally came to the conclusion that Ginny had probably already moved on to someone else or, if not, had already gotten over him. “I did, and I know that doing what I did may have seemed completely insensitive on her part, but think about it. We were only together for a little while. She has to know that I really enjoyed our time together, but I have to move on!”

Hermione felt there was nothing now that could prevent Harry from moving forward with his relationship with Angela. “Fine. Just don’t expect a lot of talking between you and Ginny this year. She’s still a bit sensitive about you.”

Harry looked surprised for a moment, but quickly changed his expression, now looking calm. “Let her be. Ginny is still my friend, and eventually everything will go back to normal,” said Harry in a sagacious, finalizing tone. He then turned around and walked toward Angela and asked her opinion of a lacy magenta dress robe he had picked up off of a rack and held against his chest, waltzing around the shop as she laughed happily. Hermione sighed as she stepped out from behind the rack. Thinking more as the two stood together, chatting and laughing every so often, she began to see that the two looked beautiful together.

*

Harry loved talking to Angela. She seemed to accept every facet of Harry’s personality with a smile that outshone even the brightest of days. She never looked at his scar when they were talking; the only time she had done so was at the conference where they had met. She made Harry feel safe, secure against even the worst of the cruel, heartless people who wanted him dead. She made him feel like the man that he was and would become. Harry embraced that feeling, careful not to let it go.

They spent almost the whole day buying school things after Angela retrieved her money from Gringotts. After they were finished, and their pockets significantly lighter, they went to buy ice cream at Florean Fortescue’s shop, which seemed to have been reopened by another, much younger wizard. Angela and Harry got the same thing: an ice cream sundae with whipped cream and hot fudge. The moment he took his first bite, Harry looked at Angela. Angela looked back and wiped off a bit of whipped cream that Harry got on his nose and ate it right off her finger. She laughed. Her laugh rang in his ears like melodic church bells. That was when Harry realized: she was perfect for him. Ginny felt like puking.

When they returned home, Angela in tow, they had a magnificent dinner, compliments of Mrs. Weasley, consisting of a rather large ham, baked potatoes, beef stew, and rice pudding for dessert. As Hermione had anticipated, and to Harry’s chagrin, Ginny said nothing to Harry, but threw Angela looks of utter disgust throughout the meal when she looked up from her stew. Afterwards, when everyone was full and had run out of interesting dinner conversation and compliments for Mrs. Weasley’s excellent cooking, Mrs. Weasley showed Angela to Fred and George’s old bedroom, where she would be sleeping that night. Harry didn’t want to argue with Hermione or Ginny, so he and Ron went up to go to bed, leaving the two girls in a vain conversation about remedies for Crookshanks’ dandruff. When they got upstairs, Ron closed the door, looking astounded.

“Wow,” Ron said, grinning excitedly. “You never told me Angela was so cute and funny! She’s nice too, she got me a load of Chocolate Frogs, look!” Ron pulled an enormous stack of the sweets out of his pockets. “If I’d known that, my God, she’d be my girlfriend already!”

“Come on, Ron”, Harry said shrewdly. “You could barely handle Lavender, and all she wanted was a good snog about every two minutes. What makes you think that Angela would be any different with you?”

“I was just saying, bloody hell!”, murmured Ron, looking flushed at Harry’s statement, but quickly dismissed it. “But you have to admit, she’s gorgeous!”

“Yea, I know,” Harry said, standing up a little straighter. But something suddenly struck him, and it caused him to feel rather guilty. “I’m just worried about Ginny. She seems to be really uncomfortable about Angela being here.”

“Maybe she still likes you,” Ron suggested, averting his eyes from Harry’s gaze.

“Don’t be stupid, Ron! We both agreed that breaking up was best for us at the time.”

“Fine.” Ron and Harry put on their pajamas in silence. Harry knew Ron was still a bit upset that his sister’s relationship with his best friend didn’t work out. They packed their things to be prepared for the next day, when they would leave for school. Collecting all of their scattered schoolbooks alone took almost an hour. Finally, Harry switched the light off at a quarter to twelve, leaving Ron to sleep on a rolled-up pair of wool socks.

Harry tried to sleep, but it seemed the more he tried, the more he stayed awake. The knowledge that Angela was in the same vicinity as he and that he was not with her tortured him. He had to see her. He got out of bed quietly, being careful not to wake up Ron, whose breathing became lighter as he dozed on. He snuck across the room and opened the door, which squeaked loudly. He turned around. Ron was still sleeping. Harry slid out the door. He tiptoed down a flight of stairs until he got to Fred and George’s room. He peeked in the door. Angela was standing by the window wearing a lilac satin nightdress. Harry’s eyes were transfixed on this almost heavenly being. He couldn’t help himself. He knocked quietly on the door. She rushed to it, smiling as she saw it was Harry.

“I thought you were Mrs. Weasley again. She comes in every half hour or so, asking if I needed anything.” She rolled her eyes. “She’s over-trying if you ask me.”

Harry grinned. “Well, I’m not Mrs. Weasley, and I would hope that you don’t think I’m over-trying just to come down here and say hi.”

Now it was Angela’s turn to smile. “You are too much, Harry,” she said, gesturing for him to enter. “Come on in.” Harry walked in slowly - so as not to seem too eager - and took a seat on Fred’s bed, Angela sitting on George’s.

“I’ve been thinking about everything that we’ve done together,” she said. “You have got to be the most amazing guy I have ever met.” Harry blushed. “You’re so much fun, it’s like I know I’ve only known you since July, but I feel like I’ve known you for my whole life!”

Harry snapped up. “Really? I feel the same way! Ever since I met you, something clicked in my head. It’s like I know you, but I don’t really know you, you know?” He stopped himself abruptly. He felt stupid, rambling on what he had been thinking for the past two months before he thought about what he was getting into. He had definitely crossed some kind of line, because as he looked at Angela, fearing the worst, her eyebrows were raised as she smiled a sort of confused and dumbstruck smile. It seemed like she was going to double up laughing.

“Wow,” she said, keeping herself from bursting into a fit of giggles. “I was just talking about how you’ve been such a great friend to me but- wow! Uh… okay. But Harry, you do know that if I’m going to be, um, more than just your friend, we’re going to have to go a bit slower. We have a really great friendship, and if we just stick to that for a while, things might just, how can I say this…” she thought about it for a moment. “…happen to go your way.” A teasingly devious smile crept up on her moonlit face.

Harry felt himself beaming, and quickly tried to conceal his sheer delight. “All right. Great!” For some reason, this conclusion made him slightly uncomfortable. He thought this would be a good opportunity to leave without being rude. “Well, we’d better get to sleep if we don’t want to miss the train tomorrow!’

“Right,” Angela said, shaking herself out of the moment. She and Harry walked to the door. Harry was beginning to leave when Angela beckoned him. Harry walked over, and Angela leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.

“G’night, Harry,” she whispered.

“Good night, Angela.” Harry departed. Confusion suddenly overpowered his happiness. Was that meant to be friendly kiss? Was she ready to be his girlfriend now? He didn’t know. He just savored the moment as he walked back upstairs to Ron’s room. This is going to be an interesting year, he thought. And indeed, it would be.

The next morning, September first, Harry woke up and looked at his alarm clock, only to find that it was nine thirty. He got out of bed to wake up Ron, who had, by this time, an unusual pattern impressed in his cheek from the socks he had slept on.

“Wake up, Ron,” Harry said. “Wake up, we’re going to school today.” Harry stopped. He was actually excited about school, the actual aspect of getting to school.

“I’ve gone mad,” he said softly, smiling.
“You bloody well have!” Ron said blearily. “Now I have to wake up! You are not my favorite person in the world right now.”

“Sorry, Ron, but the Hogwarts Express leaves at eleven, you know that! Now finish packing, get dressed, and let’s go eat breakfast.” Ron muttered random profanities as he complied with Harry’s wishes.

After they lugged their trunks downstairs, Harry and Ron went to eat breakfast, finding Mr. Weasley sitting there already, drinking coffee as he read the Prophet; the feminist witches paraded around the front cover, looking as though they had been chased out of the Ministry by a very irritable dog. He looked up as the two boys entered the room.

“Ah, Harry! Beautiful morning, isn’t it? I trust your summer has been enjoyable so far…”

“Only the part without the Dursleys, sir!” Harry said, grinning.

“Oh, yes,” Mr. Weasley said, frowning at the mention of Harry’s only living relatives, Muggles no less. He had met them previously, learning quickly that they were not as receptive to Harry’s being a wizard as he would have liked. He therefore kept their meetings short, and met them only when absolutely necessary. “I only hope their manners have improved since the last time we met.” Harry fought down a snicker. The Dursleys would never be a decent family, Muggle or otherwise.

The rest of the morning was spent eating a quick breakfast of kippers and juice, as well as checking for anything the group may have forgotten. When they had finished and congregated in the sitting room before departing, Harry looked around. This would be the last year he spent holidays at the Weasley’s house before he went to Hogwarts. Harry had a feeling this year would be filled with lasts, so he swore to himself that he would remember every moment of it.

He looked at Angela. Being a Muggle-born, she, as well as Harry and Hermione, had the best idea as to what to wear in the presence of Muggles. She wore jeans, white-and-pink striped trainers, and a denim jacket over a T-shirt bearing the words “A Little Drama Never Hurt Anyone.” Harry snorted. He knew Angela wasn’t a drama queen, or at least he didn’t think she was, but he wasn’t going to try to unleash that side of her.

They left in almost complete silence, the clatter of their trunks being the only noise. They loaded them into the trunk of a Ministry car, and got inside themselves. The journey to Kings Cross Station was a quiet one, Angela only asking Hermione when they would change into their robes.

“After we get on the train,” Ginny said rather brusquely. The rest of the car’s occupants could feel the awkwardness and decided not to start any conversation for fear of Ginny’s icy stare.

When they arrived at Kings Cross, Harry got out of the car as quickly as he could, afraid that the more time he spent in the car the more he would prolong Ginny’s irritation with him. He got his school trunk and a disgruntled Hedwig out of the car and grabbed an unused trolley from the path, heaved his luggage onto it, and waited for the rest of the group to catch up. After everyone had found a trolley, they entered the station.

As they did every year, the group headed toward the barrier between Platforms 9 and 10. Entering Platform 9 ¾ was no mean feat: Harry told Angela how to wait until no one was looking at them, and then run at the barrier, going right through to the magical platform from which the train would transport them to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. As they entered, they saw the familiar scarlet and black Hogwarts Express emitting puffs of black smoke as it was preparing to leave. The two Weasleys bade their mother good-bye, Mrs. Weasley rushing over to hug Harry and Hermione as well. To Angela, she merely gave a warm smile and a brief “Have a nice trip, dear.” Angela smiled warmly back before turning to ask Harry whether they should be finding seats on the train. As she spoke, the group left Mrs. Weasley, hurrying onto the train. Ron and Hermione went off to their duties as Prefects, so Harry, Ginny, and Angela were left to look for an available compartment. As they entered an empty one, the train began to move. They took their seats as soon as they finished hauling their trunks onto the luggage rack. Harry sat next to Angela, and Ginny sat across from Harry, her arms crossed and a disapproving scowl on her face.

Halfway through the trip, Ron and Hermione visited their compartment. They stayed to talk for a while, but then left to patrol the rest of the train. Harry continued a very drawn out conversation with Angela, mainly discussing the Gryffindor Quidditch team and their Seeker, and how wonderful it was to have a reserve Seeker, lest Harry encounter any jinxes or rogue Bludgers on the playing field.

*

Ginny, who felt stupid trying to work herself into the conversation at every possible opportunity, excused herself and left the compartment in search of the lavatory.

The lavatory was only two carriages away, and she encountered no one she knew while passing through the first carriage. However, half way down the second, only three compartments away from the restroom, she bumped into someone. She looked up, only to see the smug face of Draco Malfoy. She spoke first, trying to avoid any unnecessary taunting about her family.

“Excuse me, Malfoy,” Ginny said quietly. “I need to get by.”

Malfoy smirked. “Why’s that, Weasley? Trying to auction off some of your school things to send money to that Mudblood-loving father of yours?”

Ginny tried to remain calm. She knew this would happen. She tried to get around Malfoy, but he blocked her every time. Then she had an idea.

“I’m sure your father, incarcerated though he may be, would be very disappointed that you would waste your time trifling with a mere Weasley, don’t you think?” She knew he would have no comeback for this rather blunt remark, but she felt horrible that she was referring to herself as if she was not worthy of self-respect.

“You’re absolutely right, Weasley,” he said, smirking as he let Ginny pass. She knew she would’ve felt better if she’d done something more to insult him, but Malfoy was hardly a threat to her at this point.

When Ginny entered the bathroom, she checked all of the cubicles to make sure no one was there. Then she cried. She couldn’t help it: she wanted to be strong, to make her not seem like a pathetic little girl who couldn’t bear to leave her boyfriend, but she couldn’t do it. She broke down almost completely when two Hufflepuff girls entered. She realized then that the train would reach Hogwarts soon, so she mopped up her tears and concealed her eyes as best as she could without hindering her sight, for they were puffy and very red. She exited the bathroom and headed back to her compartment. When she went to open the sliding door, she froze.

There, on the very seat where Harry and Angela were sitting just minutes before, she saw them kissing. Not just the kindhearted kissing, but a sort of situation making it seem as though they were wrestling with their mouths. She was mortified. She wanted to go straight to Ron and Hermione to tell them, but she thought of something else. Something much more daring, something she never would’ve done if they hadn’t been broken up. She entered the compartment.

Harry and Angela separated immediately, looking completely embarrassed. Ginny smiled weakly.

“Beautiful day, isn’t it?” she said lightheartedly, feeling very the complete opposite right then, but nonetheless. She felt like strangling Harry, but that wouldn’t do any good. She was going to milk this for all it was worth. Harry looked at Ginny darkly. He turned to Angela.

“Angela, may I talk to Ginny for a moment, please?”

Angela’s face was still completely flushed. “I guess,” she said, now starung at the laces of her shoes. Ginny left the compartment, followed by Harry, who closed the door rather hard.

“Ginny, I’m sorry you had to see that, but I’m moving on, and so should you.”

Ginny felt tears welling up in her eyes as her plan took an unexpected turn, but she forced them back. “I know we agreed to breaking up, but this is a rather fast recovery on your part, don’t you think?”

“I won’t mind if you go out with someone else,” Harry said. This was a lie. It would torture him to see Ginny happy with someone else. But what else could he say?

“I’ll just go sit with Dean, then,” Ginny said, looking hurt. She walked past Harry and opened the door to the next car. Harry hesitated for a moment, then reentered his compartment, where he and Angela smiled embarrassedly and spent the rest of the ride on opposite benches.