Ginny's Gift, Chapter Eleven
"You go on, Ron, I'll catch you up."
"All right, then, Harry. See you at breakfast. Potions this morning. Urgh!" Ron pulled a face and left the dormitory.
Harry went back to rummaging through his trunk looking for some warmer socks. November had arrived, and the weather was growing colder as winter drew near. Frost lay thick on the ground, and draughts were more noticeable around the castle. The humidity in the Potions dungeon would only make that class all the more uncomfortable.
He set Ginny's necklace on the bed so it wouldn't be buried under all his other things. He hadn't worn it since the previous Saturday, and so far, his scar hadn't bothered him once. It was more than a relief. Perhaps nothing disastrous would come of this after all.
"Oooh, isn't this pretty?"
Dean and Seamus had come from breakfast already, and Dean had snatched up the necklace. Since last Saturday he'd tried to keep it hidden to avoid both tricky questions, as well as these sorts of comments. In fact, he thought, it was quite a good thing he had a girlfriend, or he might be facing comments of a much ruder nature.
"Think I can borrow this, Harry dear?" Dean asked in a falsetto. "It would look just darling with my new dress robes." Dean batted his eyelashes, while Seamus sniggered.
Harry made a grab for the necklace, but Dean tossed it to Seamus. "Give that here!"
"Don't think so," said Seamus, as if he was considering a grave matter. "Need to see if I have lipstick to match." Seamus and Dean both burst out laughing.
"Shut it, you two!" Neville had come in and was almost back to his nightmarish self, judging from his scowl. "Give that back. Come on. Don't make me take points off."
Seamus grudgingly handed the necklace over to Harry, who immediately shoved it into the drawer of his night table. Seamus and Dean picked up their school bags and left the room, leaving Harry and Neville alone in the dormitory.
"Erm, thanks, Neville."
Neville put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Not a problem," Neville said quietly. "I understand what it must mean to you."
"Erm, right," Harry replied blankly.
"Ron told me, you know."
"What did he tell you, exactly?"
"That your necklace belonged to your mother."
"Oh, erm, yeah, that's right… It did."
"I'll have a word with Dean and Seamus later."
Neville gave Harry a bracing pat on the shoulder and collected his things before heading off. Harry turned back to his trunk. That might actually be a very good story to put about. It was the sort of thing that would shut most people up--maybe not Malfoy, but then nothing ever shut him up. He'd have to remember to thank Ron for coming up with that idea.
Harry breathed a sigh of relief, as he finally found what he'd been looking for, a pair of very thick hand-knit socks that Dobby had given him last year for Christmas. One was striped in orange, chartreuse, and lilac, while the other was aquamarine with red polka dots. They were ugly but just the thing to ward off the cold.
He put them on and glanced at the time. Damn. He was going to be late. He grabbed his bag and bolted down the stairs.
He didn't realise he'd made a mistake until much, much later. He was in the middle of Potions class, furiously chopping horned toad liver into precise one-quarter inch pieces when his feet began to feel noticeably warmer. He shifted his weight and wiggled his toes, but the sensation did not subside. If anything, it increased.
"Erm, Harry," Ron hissed. Harry had been working with him ever since Mundungus Fletcher had loudly proclaimed in front of the entire class that he and Hermione working together constituted too much of a distraction. Hermione was now partnered with Neville on the other side of the room. "Harry," said Ron as loudly as he dared. "There's something funny going on. Look at your feet."
Harry looked down to see purplish-grey wisps of smoke emanating from his trainers. He watched, horrified, as the smoke thickened until it was billowing forth.
"What's that smell?" a feminine voice cried. Harry thought it might have been Parvati. A foul stench was filling the room along with the smoke. Others in the class began to cough and splutter.
A terrible thought struck Harry then. This could only mean one thing. When he'd unpacked his trunk on September first, he'd thought he'd removed any possible jinxes the twins might have cast on his things. He'd obviously missed these socks.
"What did your brothers do to my socks?" Harry choked to Ron. The air was now so thick it was becoming difficult to see Ron, and Harry's eyes were beginning to water from the odour.
"No idea, but it smells like--"
"Dungbomb," they said together.
"What is the meaning of this disturbance?" Professor Fletcher had come up, and Harry assumed the only reason he hadn't reached their table sooner was that he'd had trouble seeing through the smoke. The Potions master was holding a piece of cloth over his nose to ward off the stench. He looked into their cauldron as if their brew was the culprit. "Well, what's going on here?" he demanded. "Your potion looks fine. The smoke isn't coming from there, in any case." His gaze passed from Ron to Harry and then down to Harry's feet. He crossed his arms and looked at Harry expectantly.
"I dunno what happened," Harry mumbled lamely.
"Detention, Potter!" Fletcher thundered. "And forty points from Gryffindor. And it'll be more if that potion's not perfect!"
He pulled out his wand. Harry braced himself, half-expecting to be hexed.
"Finite incantatem!"
The smoke stopped pouring out, but the odour remained.
"Aer integer!" Fletcher barked, and the dungeon suddenly smelled of the outdoors.
As he stalked off, Harry whispered to Ron, "Remind me to kill your brothers."
*
The following Friday found Harry scrubbing the worktables in the Potions dungeon and quietly cursing Fred and George. He could think of several things he'd much rather be doing on a Friday evening, and none of them involved cleaning dried rat spleen and cakes of armadillo bile off the stone surfaces. Harry couldn't work out just how the nauseating combination had managed to stain the granite. There had to be some sort of spell to prevent this, there just had to be. But then Professor Fletcher wouldn't have had anything to assign as detention. He likely neglected to use the spell on purpose, Harry concluded.
Things might have been worse. The detention could have taken up valuable homework time. One result of having Quidditch matches cancelled was more free time, since there was no longer any practice to attend. He was pretty much caught up in his course work now, although the steady stream of assignments was not letting up.
"Harry, Professor Fletcher told me I might find you down here."
Harry looked up to see Professor Dumbledore enter the dungeon. His eyes were twinkling, and Harry took this as a positive sign. "Had some difficulty with your socks, did you? Curious things, socks, you never can tell when they'll decide to play a nasty trick on you."
Harry hardly knew how to reply to this odd pronouncement, but it didn't matter, as the headmaster went on. "Since you haven't come to see me since last Saturday, I presume your scar hasn't been bothering you."
"No, sir. Not even the slightest twinge."
"That's good news, then. It looks as if we haven't missed anything. I am, of course, basing my conclusions on more than just your scar, mind you." Harry was relieved to hear that. He didn't like the idea that the lives of people he cared about might hinge on whether or not he was having headaches. "Have you decided what you're going to do about the necklace?"
"I don't think I really need it as long as I'm at Hogwarts, do I?"
"No, Harry, it's not likely you will."
"Then I won't put it back on for now. There's still a chance of detecting Voldemort if he decides to come back to England as long as I leave it off."
"A wise decision. I don't imagine the other boys in your dormitory have let the occasion for teasing pass, either."
"Actually, they haven't been too bad." This was true. Neville had told Dean and Seamus the story about the necklace having been his mother's, and that story seemed to be circulating. The only ones who might make a comment were Slytherins, and Harry had grown so used to ignoring them, that it didn't make a whole lot of difference what they said to him. "But why call attention to it? I have it put away."
"That sounds like a good plan, Harry. Just make sure you keep it safe. Protection like that is very rare and valuable. You won't be at Hogwarts forever, and the day may come when you're glad you have it."
"Yes, sir."
"I'll just leave you to finish your detention then. Carry on."
*
"Look, there's Perseus."
Ginny pointed towards the night sky, her finger creating a deeper shadow against the blackness. She and Harry were lying on a flat expanse of Hogwarts roof, a spot they'd recently discovered, one that was accessible only from the base of the North Tower. With the tower itself at their backs, they had a clear view of a good bit of sky from this vantage point.
They'd been obliged to search out a new meeting place since Ron and Hermione were now putting the fourth floor storage room to frequent use. Harry rather suspected that part of the reason for this was Ron attempting to put a damper on anything he and Ginny might be getting up to. Harry didn't really begrudge Ron this, however. It was very pleasant here under the stars, and with the addition of a few cushioning charms and some blankets to ward off the November chill, comfortable enough.
Harry was struck by a thought at the name of the constellation. "Is your brother named for him?"
Ginny laughed. "No, it's just Percy. I have no idea where Mum got that from. I mean, the rest of us seem to have fairly normal names, don't we?" She giggled again. "Well, there is Bill…"
"What's odd about Bill?"
"It's short for Bilius. Dad promised to name his first-born after his older brother. I've heard Mum wasn't too pleased with that when she found out, and she insisted on naming the rest of us. She must have just liked Percy, I suppose."
Harry stared at the sky above him. The night was chilly and cloudless, and the countless stars overhead seemed very close. "Speaking of strange names… There's Draco."
He pointed to the constellation, and Ginny laughed. "I think I like him better in the sky than at Hogwarts."
They lay awhile longer, gazing at the stars and looking for star formations from their Astronomy classes. The Plough, Cassiopeia, Andromeda… Then they fell into companionable silence, until Ginny's clear voice rang out once more in the crisp air. "What do you think you'll be doing next year?"
Harry thought for a moment before answering truthfully, "I dunno." He had spent the past six years more worried about the present than the future. "If the war is still going on, I suppose I'll be doing my part in it. Whatever I can do."
Ginny pushed herself up on one elbow, blotting out part of the sky as she looked down at him. "But what if it's over by then? What will you do?"
"I guess I've never stopped to think about it. Perhaps I might try out for a Quidditch team. That might be fun."
"Yes, once this is all over there will be Quidditch again." League matches had been cancelled since last year. "You'd be good at that, you know."
"What do you want to do? After you've finished school, I mean." As he asked the question, he was reminded of the fact that next year she'd still be here at Hogwarts, while he'd be off working at some job or other. They'd be separated, he realised with a jolt. He quickly pushed that thought aside. That wouldn't happen for almost a year. A lot could happen between now and then.
"I always thought I'd work at the Ministry or something, but now…"
Harry had a good idea what she was referring to. "No one knows about it, Gin."
"Professor Dumbledore knows, you know, Ron and Hermione know."
"None of us will tell anyone."
"Professor Dumbledore wants me to tell my parents."
Harry reached over and picked up her free hand, enlacing their fingers and squeezing gently. "That's all right, isn't it? They certainly won't tell anyone."
"I know, but I'd rather keep this to myself."
"What would you do, if you could do anything you wanted?"
Ginny didn't answer right away. She lay back down and stared at the stars as she considered. Their hands remained joined. Harry suddenly wanted to hear the answer very badly. "I don't know," she replied finally, "but I know what I don't want. I don't want people beating down my door for protective talismans. This is so difficult." Her voice was thickening. "With the war on, I know there are so many people who would benefit from having one. My brothers. Sirius. Professor Dumbledore is leaving the choice open to me what I want to do about that. I just don't know."
She fell silent, but Harry could sense her distress. He remembered what she'd said about how exhausting the process of making his necklace had been. He tugged at the hand he still held, and she raised her head to lay it on his shoulder. He slipped his other arm around her as she shifted positions, and drew her closer, brushing his lips against her hairline.
They lay for a while without moving or speaking until Harry let go of her hand and lifted a finger to gently trace her features. When he reached her jaw, he carefully tilted her chin up so that he could meet her lips with his own. He kissed her softly, but one kiss led to another and another, each one deeper than the last. When they broke apart at last to stare into each other's eyes, both of them were breathing shallowly, and she was stretched out on top of him. Harry didn't think he'd ever felt as alive as he did now with Ginny pressed so close to him. He gave in to the desire to bring her even closer, as he ran his hands firmly down her back beginning at her shoulders and ending at her hips.
Their lips met again in a kiss more intense than anything he'd ever experienced before. He thought she made a sound in the back of her throat, and he broke off again, thinking it was a protest. It was not. He shivered when she lowered her head and began to run her lips along the sensitive skin below his ear. This was amazing. Another shudder of pleasure passed through him, and he tightened his grip on her waist even further.
A warning bell began to sound in his mind. For weeks now he'd been managing to control himself with Ginny, but if she didn't stop this soon, he felt as if he was going to lose it altogether. Already the urge to roll them both over so that he could try to discover what would make her tremble was becoming impossible to resist. He could feel her curves pressing against his chest, and his hands were itching to touch their softness…
Should he do something? He had to, really. He raised his hands to her hair instead, lifting her head to meet his gaze. "We have to stop, Gin." His voice sounded strange to him; it was lower than usual. "You're driving me mad."
He couldn't see her expression in the dark, but he thought she must know what he was talking about. As closely as she was moulded to him, she couldn't help but notice the effect she had on him.
Ginny nodded and made to climb off him, but he wasn't ready to let her go just yet, and he tightened his hold on her. He didn't want to push her into anything she wasn't ready for, but he didn't want to lose the closeness. He wasn't sure just what he was ready for, for that matter. This was all too new to him.
"I don't mean to push you away," he said. "We just need to slow down."
"I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. I guess I just lost control." He thought she sounded relieved.
"I think we both did. It's all right, Ginny." He reached up and brushed the hair back from her face. He felt as if he ought to say more, but he had no idea what. It was as if there were a hundred different feelings warring within him at the moment, and there wasn't any way he'd manage to express them properly even to himself.
Ginny leaned in and kissed him again, but more softly this time. When she drew back, she said, "I suppose we ought to go back."
He didn't really want to end this time together, but he knew she was right. It was very late, long past curfew. He felt a sense of loss as she moved away from him at last and stood up. He stood as well and waved his wand at the blankets they'd brought out here. The blankets folded themselves neatly. Then Harry held out a hand to Ginny. They slipped under the invisibility cloak together and returned to Gryffindor Tower.
*
Harry ran a hand though his hair in frustration. It was probably standing on end now, but he didn't care. This History of Magic essay was due soon, and he did not feel like writing it. He stared at the blank parchment in front of him and vainly willed the words to come. When nothing happened he threw his quill down with an audible sigh, causing Ginny to look up. It was all the more maddening that she could scribble away at whatever she was working on while he was getting nothing accomplished.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
A sly smile spread over her face. "Star chart for Astronomy."
"Oh." Harry gulped. The images that were now passing through his brain had nothing to do with the evolution of the Ministry of Magic from the Wizard's Council.
In an effort to clear his traitorous mind, he looked around the common room. It was fairly late, and many of the younger students had already gone up to their dormitories. Harry's glance fell on Neville who was curled up in an armchair near the fire, reading. Perhaps Neville had finished his essay already. Harry considered going over and asking Neville if he could have a look at the other boy's essay for some inspiration. But Harry quickly dismissed that idea. Neville was such a stickler for the rules now, he'd surely refuse.
Harry turned back to his parchment, wrote a sentence and immediately crossed it out. This just wasn't working. He couldn't remember a time when he felt less like doing an assignment. He tore off the top of the parchment with the scratched-out sentence, crumpled it up and lobbed it into the fire.
"Having trouble?" Ginny asked.
"You could say that."
"What are you working on?"
"Essay for Binns."
She looked sympathetic. "Urgh."
Harry was having no better luck when Ron and Hermione came through the portrait hole half an hour later. He and Ginny both looked up, as the other two took seats at their table.
It didn't take Hermione very long to spy A History of Magic lying beside Harry's parchment. "Haven't you done that essay yet? You'd better get going on it. It took me ages."
Harry's spirits sunk a bit further. If it had taken Hermione ages to do, how long would it take him?
"And of course Hermione got it out of the way as soon as it was assigned," teased Ron.
"I suppose you benefited from help on yours, then," observed Ginny.
Hermione turned pink at this. "I may have," Ron said evasively.
"Where have you been all evening then?" asked Ginny a bit more pointedly.
"Library," both Ron and Hermione said together, perhaps more quickly than was really necessary.
"The library closes at eight o'clock," Harry pointed out, looking at his watch. "It's now half past eleven."
"We may have been side-tracked a bit," said Ron. The tips of his ears were quite red by now.
Hermione looked around the room, as if to see who might be near enough to overhear. The room was deserted except for them and Neville, and he seemed to be quite absorbed in his book. He'd let curfew pass without a word. "I found something that might interest you," said Hermione in a low voice, as she reached into her bag and pulled out a large volume, which she handed to Ginny.
Ginny looked at the title, frowning slightly. "I don't think so."
"Come on, Ginny, what's the harm in learning a bit more about… you know?"
Ginny set the book on the table, and Harry could now read the title: Rare Magical Talents by Nathaniel Tudor. "Some other time, perhaps. I've got homework to finish now."
"You know this book really is quite interesting. It's got all sorts of cases. There was one wizard who was a Soul Searcher, who…
"I'm NOT an interesting case!" Ginny cut in, glaring at Hermione.
Harry looked nervously in Neville's direction to make sure the sharpness in Ginny's tone hadn't attracted his attention. What Harry saw made him stiffen in his chair. He nudged Ron, who was sitting beside him, with an elbow.
"What?" Ron asked.
"Look at what Neville's reading," Harry said very quietly. Luckily for the boys, Hermione was too busy trying to apologise to Ginny to notice what they were doing.
Ron squinted towards the fire, where Neville had shifted position in his chair and the title of the book he was reading could now be made out. It was the book Sirius had given Harry for his birthday--or another copy, but somehow he doubted that. Harry watched Ron's reaction and saw his eyes go round. "How do you suppose he got that?"
"No idea. You didn't leave it lying around, did you?"
"Leave what lying around?" Hermione had evidently made peace with Ginny, and both girls were now looking at them curiously.
"Nothing," said Ron quickly. When Hermione raised a sceptical brow, Ron added, "I was just asking Harry about his Divination homework. He was looking for it earlier."
Hermione looked ready to launch into tirade about Divination, either that or a lecture about doing homework properly, so Harry decided to distract her further.
"Hermione, what's a Soul Searcher?" He glanced at Ginny as he asked this, and saw her expression harden. He supposed this topic cut too close to an area she'd rather avoid, but that couldn't be helped now.
Hermione pointed to the library book. "It's all in there. There haven't been many of them, but it's believed that Rowena Ravenclaw had the ability."
"What ability?"
"To see into people's souls."
"What, do you mean like read their minds?" asked Ron.
"No, not exactly. A Soul Searcher wouldn't be able to read your actual thoughts. They'd just look into your heart, see what sort of person you are, your strengths, your weaknesses, things like that."
"Like the Sorting Hat then?"
"Yes. It's thought that Rowena Ravenclaw bestowed her ability on the Sorting Hat somehow. Before she died, she was able to sort the students herself."
"But the hat always says Godric Gryffindor found the way…" Harry protested.
Hermione shrugged. "Maybe it just favours its owner. Or maybe he only came up with the idea of using a hat. Who knows? That was a thousand years ago."
"But how can a person do that? Look into your soul, that is."
"It's wandless magic. It's done with the eyes, and it takes a special ability, just like…" Hermione nodded at Ginny, who was beginning to go pale. "According to the book, a person with the talent is naturally more perceptive, but with the proper training, they can learn to really look into another person's heart and see what's there…"
She broke off as Ginny emitted an odd strangled-sounding noise. "Ginny, is something the matter?" asked Harry. He thought she looked a bit green.
"No, not at all. I'm just tired. I think I'll be off to bed. Good night." Harry, Ron and Hermione all stared at each other as Ginny got up and went to the girls' staircase.
"What's got into her?" asked Ron.
"Come on, Ron, it's perfectly obvious…" She might have continued, but Harry cast a meaningful glance towards Neville, who was still in his chair. Hermione nodded slightly and closed her mouth for a moment. When she went on it was in an undertone, and Harry had to strain to hear her. "She still hasn't accepted the idea she can do something others can't. She'll come round when she gets used to the idea. I think this book would help, if we could convince her to read it."
Ron laughed sharply. "There haven't been very many people who managed to convince Ginny to do something she didn't want to. Stubborn, she is."
"Good heavens! Look at the time. It's past curfew." Neville seemed to have finally come out of the little world he'd been wrapped up in. Harry wondered what Neville could have found so interesting and then began redden as he realised it was very likely the same things he himself had found so fascinating. "What are you waiting for?" Neville demanded, rising and coming over to the table. "Come on, off to bed with you!"
"What have you been reading, Neville?" Hermione asked.
Neville went scarlet. "Oh, just a book I found lying about the dormitory."
Harry and Ron exchanged an uncomfortable look. Harry wondered if Neville had gone looking for more contraband and come across Sirius' book in his search. No, that didn't make sense. Neville had been thoroughly humiliated when he'd been caught at that before. He surely wouldn't be flaunting his find in the common room if he'd obtained it by underhanded means. He must have really found it lying about--and Harry knew he hadn't left it out. He looked back at Ron, who must have been drawing some similar conclusions, for he raised his eyebrows and shook his head once, as if to say, "It wasn't me".
Hermione, in the meantime, seemed to be enjoying Neville's discomfiture. Harry was sure she'd recognised the book as the one she'd seen in Ron's room last summer. She touched a finger to the title. "Dr Zog's Practical Spells for Wizards. Yes, I've had a look at that. Quite informative."
She headed off towards her dormitory, leaving Neville to splutter incoherently behind her. When she'd gone, Harry rounded on Neville. "Where did you find that?" he demanded.
"It was lying out. Honestly, it was!"
"Lying out where exactly?"
"On Dean's night table."
Harry and Ron looked at each other. It appeared as if they'd be having a word with Dean the next day. Neville, in the mean time, was regaining his composure. "Does this belong to you, then, Harry?"
It was Harry's turn to flush. "Erm, yeah, it does," he mumbled, hoping he wasn't about to be turned in.
"Would you mind if I borrowed it?"
Harry didn't think he ought to refuse. Better to lend the book to Neville than to have Neville hand it over to Professor McGonagall. "Yeah, sure, go ahead. Just let me have it back when you're finished."
*
The next morning Harry and Ron cornered Dean in the dormitory before breakfast. "Dean," Harry began, "do you know anything about a Dr Zog?"
Dean looked puzzled for a moment, and then a lascivious grin broke out on his face. "So you've heard about that, have you? Yeah, that's quite a good book. Lots of interesting tips in that. I think Neville has it at the moment. I'm sure he'll let you have it when he's finished with it. Might take him a while, though. He's got to start from the beginning, if you know what I mean."
"Right," said Harry. "Actually what I wanted to know is, where did you get it from."
"Seamus had it first. Told me Lavender's quite happy about that."
"And where did Seamus get it?"
"Didn't ask. What's it to you?"
"Nothing, only it happens to be my book."
Dean looked impressed. "Nice one, Harry. Where did you find it?"
"It was a birthday present. Listen, it was in my trunk, and I'm not sure…"
Dean interrupted him. "I don't think Seamus was going through your things."
"What's this about going through Harry's things?" Seamus had come in.
Harry turned to him. "I want to know where you found my book."
"What book?"
"Dr Zog."
"Oh, that book. Was that yours then?"
"Yes. Where did you find it?"
"It was odd, really. I just saw it lying out in the middle of the floor, so I picked it up. And I had a look inside to see who it might belong to, and, well, then I noticed what it was about, and I couldn't help but take a look."
Harry looked hard at the other boy, but it didn't seem like he was lying. There was something decidedly strange going on here. He knew he'd left that book hidden in his trunk. How could it have found its way to the middle of the floor?
"Look, I'm sorry," Seamus went on, "but I had no idea it was yours. There wasn't any way of telling."
"It's all right. Only I saw Neville with it last night, and I wondered where he'd got it from."
Seamus burst out laughing. "Looks as if it's making the rounds then. Don't worry, you'll get it back. Eventually."
He and Dean left for breakfast, leaving Harry and Ron alone for the moment. Harry looked at Ron, who immediately said, "I didn't leave it out. And I certainly wouldn't have left it on the floor."
"I know you didn't. But remember last summer when Hermione found it?" Ron nodded. "It's almost as if that book wants to be found."
A/N: Thanks to my betas, especially Ami and Amy who pointed out some things that weren't coming off very realistically. Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed so far. Please let me know what you think. Feedback is encouraging!