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Author: MyGinevra Story: The Hog's Head Rating: Teens Status: Completed Warning: Extreme Language, Sexual Situations Reviews: 9 Words: 426,278
Harry and Ginny stayed in the flat on Sunday morning, talking about what had happened at the end of the Ravenclaw match. Harry tried in vain to think of a way around it so that he could go to her future matches, and Ginny feared that it was impossible. If anything, the problem would get worse because every day they could feel their closeness growing, and that meant they would be even more aware of each other. After it became clear that they could not think of a solution, they pulled the love seat so that it was in front of the picture window, and they sat in it watching the owlets cavort in the elm tree. Ginny’s head was on Harry’s shoulder and she held his hand to her lips. “Peanut is the smallest but he’s a trouble–maker,” she said. Whenever another owlet wasn’t looking, Peanut would hop toward it and give it a shove, knocking his brother or sister off the branch. The victim would squawk and fly back up and perch again, glancing at McPherson who was on the branch above, watching benignly but not interfering. “Where’s Bailey?” Harry said. “She usually keeps the brat in line.” “I had to send a note to mum. Now she wants the twins and the Prewetts to be flower girls.” “That sounds like progress. At least she’s conceded the twins to you.” “I know. I’ll probably agree to it. Time’s growing short, and I’m going to be busy.” Next Saturday was the tryout in Wales with the Holyhead Harpies, and Harry and Ron were going to work at the Quidditch pitch with Ginny during the week. She hadn’t practiced very much at the Chaser position during the year, and she wanted to get back some of the feel for it. “You don’t think I should go to the tryouts, do you?” Harry asked as Peanut launched an attack on Orion, who was considerably the bigger of the two. This time the intended victim jabbed at Peanut with his beak, provoking a storm of squawks and hoots from all of the owlets. McPherson finally decided that enough was enough and let out one very loud screech. The owlets all ducked their heads and looked up apprehensively, then they settled down, at least for the moment. “They don’t let anyone watch the tryouts,” said Ginny. “But even if they did, it wouldn’t be a good idea. We’re just going to have to get used to it. I’m as sorry about it as you are.” “I know,” he sighed. They watched the owls in silence, then Harry said, “It’s getting stronger, but what is it? Fleur said she’s heard about it but has never seen it. Maybe Dumbledore knows. Let’s ask him when we see him after the wedding.” “Why don’t we talk to him now?” “Hmm,” Harry considered the idea. “We’d have to ask McGonagall to use her office. Do you feel comfortable with that?” “Maybe not. Let’s think about it.” Early in the afternoon they Floo’d to the Burrow; everyone was coming for dinner, but only Charlie, Bill and Fleur were already there. Molly and Fleur wanted Ginny to try on her wedding gown, and Harry was forthwith banished from the house, so he walked by himself down to Fred’s grave. He sat on the bench under the oak tree, watching clouds sail past and listening to birds singing in the woods; it was very peaceful. He looked back at the Burrow and reflected on how far he had come since last summer when he was living here. He had been so innocent then, not letting a single serious thought interfere with his idyll with Ginny; even all the work he did at the inn was devoid of seriousness, now that he thought about it. He had wanted to take a holiday from life, and imagined that he could have it without care or consequence. How wrong he had been, and how right Bane was. But now his life was all about real things: his plans to become an Auror, and Saliyah’s plans to push him along as hard as possible; his successful rescue of Keesha; the capture of Umbridge and the Death Eaters; the “capture” of Elizabeth Derby’s uncles; and, most of all, his upcoming marriage. The reality of that was growing stronger by the day. Sometimes when Ginny was at school and he was at the inn, Harry would lay awake at night wondering if he would be able to stand the happiness of always having Ginny with him. Even though they spent almost all their weekends together there was an element of transience about it, a feeling that his life was constantly stopping and waiting for something. It was as if part of himself was being detached every Sunday evening when he dropped Ginny off in the common room or the entrance hall. He didn’t know why just saying some words to each other and receiving an official parchment from the Ministry of Magic would change that. But as he sat back with his eyes closed, his hands clasped behind his head, and the sun warming his face, he knew that their wedding would be more than just words and a marriage certificate. Something was going to happen, something wonderful that would make him and Ginny part of each other forever. He smiled and basked. He heard footsteps and when he opened his eyes he saw Ginny with Ron and Hermione walking toward him. “Man, you should see her in that dress!” said Ron. He looked at Hermione with a lecherous expression. “You should wear one of those at our wedding.” “Is that a proposal or just a proposition?” Hermione arched her eyebrows. “Um.” Ron turned red, and looked at Harry in panic. “Don’t look at me, mate,” Harry laughed. “I’ve already done that. It’s up to you now.” But Hermione took Ron’s arm and put her hand on his cheek. “That’s alright, sweetie. I’ll take it as a long–term thought process.” “But if you say anything else about my gown, there won’t be a long term,” said Ginny with a scowl. “Sure, sis, not a word, I promise,” Ron said hastily. Ginny glared at him, just to make sure he got the message, then sat down next to Harry. Hermione conjured a blanket and she and Ron sat on the ground. “I have some news,” Hermione said, and beamed at Harry and Ginny. “I’ve officially joined the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. See?” She pulled out a badge like the one Harry had got when he joined the training program. It had the same gold star, but instead of Auror, the words Magical Law Enforcement were stamped across it, and the background was silver instead of blue. “I start tomorrow,” she said. “They’re sticking me in the Improper Use of Magic Office, but I’m hoping it won’t be for long.” “So you’re not Ron’s boss yet,” said Ginny with an impish grin. “Why are you picking on me?” said Ron querulously. “What did I ever do to you?” “Since we don’t have three or four months, I’ll skip that question.” “Siblings. Honestly,” said Hermione, shaking her head at Harry, but grinning. “There’s something to be said for not having any.” Harry wanted to know more about her new job. “Will you just be writing up citations for underage magic? I could help you with that; I have two of them buried in my Hogwarts trunk.” “Oh, no, they have clerks for that. But this will interest you. When you Apparated into Hogwarts while it was sealed, you stirred up a little bees’ nest. First it went to the Department of Mysteries, but they didn’t think it was mysterious enough to bother with. Then they tried the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, but they apparently don’t normally get involved with elf magic. So, the only place they could think of to investigate it was the Improper Use of Magic Office. Don’t you see? You used magic improperly, so...” Harry laughed. “That’s exactly how the Ministry gnomes would see it. So they’re letting you figure out how house–elves can Apparate through a Sealing Charm. Did Flitwick find out anything when he talked to Kreacher?” “Nothing. I think Kreacher didn’t know what to make of a wizard his own size. I figure it will only take me a couple of months. I did a little research last week at the bookshop —“ “A little research?” Ron interrupted, looking amused. “You were there for ten hours.” “Yes, well, there’s dozens of books written about elves, so it took a while.” “Let me put it this way,” Ron said with a grin at Harry. “How many of their books on elves didn’t you read?” Hermione frowned. “Three, but I don’t think they were relevant to my research.” Ron shook his head and gazed at her. “That’s my babe. You now know more about house–elves than anyone on the planet, including the elves themselves.” Hermione blushed, but looked pleased. “As I was saying, there have been a few studies, but I’d say nothing definitive; most of the works are just descriptive, or else they’re full of myths and other garbage. It’s a big opportunity.” Her eyes were lit and her cheeks were still flushed, but now from excitement. “I was quite surprised when I couldn’t find very much about elf magic. Whatever there is, is about their bondage and what exactly keeps them bound to their masters, even though their magic is so powerful.” “So what is it that keeps them bound?” Harry asked. “And why don’t most of them want to be free?” “That’s the question, no one really knows, and the elves either won’t or can’t explain it. My suspicion is that their bonds are so strong because wizards created them to counter their magic, which is stronger than wizard magic in many ways.” “At least as far as getting in and out of Hogwarts is concerned,” Ron chuckled. Hermione kissed his cheek, then Ron lay down on the blanket and she took his hand. Harry and Ginny exchanged smiles, and Harry put his arm around her. They were all quiet, until Ginny got up and went to the edge of the woods and started picking wildflowers. She put the spray on the grave and Harry came and stood next to her. “I get moments when I think I’ll break down,” Ginny said. “Sometimes I can’t stand his not being here, I get so angry I want to scream. When you said those things at the memorial, all I could think of was seeing Percy carry him into the Great Hall.” She turned to Harry with tears in her eyes. “Oh, Harry, don’t ever leave me. If something happened to you I couldn’t go on.” “Hey,” he put his arms around her, “what brought this on? I’m not going anywhere, and if Tom Riddle couldn’t kill me then no one can.” “I’m being silly, I know,” she sniffled, wiping her face. “This is one of those moments I was talking about. It’s just that now I know what it’s like to lose someone who was such a part of me, and you... you are so much more.” She buried her head against him. Harry stroked her hair and patted her back. “It’s okay, love,” he whispered. “I’ll always be here. I’ll always be with you.” She nodded without lifting her head. “I know, but Fred was such a big part of me, and you are just as big, but I’m also part of you, don’t you see? S–sometimes I feel that when you leave me at school and go back to the inn, you’re taking part of me away with you. Harry, that scares me a little. You used to have part of V–Voldemort inside you, and now you have me.” “And when we get married, that won’t happen anymore because I’ll never leave you. I was just thinking about the same thing before you came down here. No one will ever keep us apart. When we have to go to work every day, even then it won’t be like it is now. I’ll know that you’ll be waiting for me or I’ll be waiting for you, every night for the rest of our lives.” Ginny laughed through her tears, and glanced at Ron and Hermione who were trying to discretely ignore their conversation. “Oh, yes,” she whispered, grinning at Harry, “I’ve thought about that, too. And don’t think I’m not going to try to wear you out every night.” Harry laughed loudly, and their two friends looked at them. “I can’t wait,” he whispered, and kissed her. Ron’s coughing fit brought them back to the world. The four of them spent the rest of the afternoon wandering through the woods and around the Burrow, until Ron’s unerringly accurate stomach clock informed them that dinner was on the table. * * * * As the next week went by and the day of the tryouts approached, Ginny grew more and more nervous. On Monday, her nightly letters sounded so anxious that for the rest of the week Harry Floo’d from the Ministry directly to Hogwarts and ate dinner with her in the Great Hall. Then, after he and Ron had worked with her in the stadium, he kept her company wherever her jitters and restlessness took her: Hagrid’s cabin, the White Tomb, even the Forbidden Forest. On Thursday evening, Ginny wanted to go to the Room of Requirement. She found a chamber that was similar to the last one — at least it had a bathtub filled with steaming water — but instead of a bed, there was a long, contoured, padded table with a book and a box sitting on it. The book contained photographs showing a witch lying on the table and a wizard giving her a massage; the box contained bottles of oils and balms, and an assortment of balls, rollers, and other massaging devices that were pictured in the book. Harry studied the pictures for a few minutes while Ginny undressed and stretched out on the table on her stomach. Then he started to massage, beginning with her neck and shoulders. They discovered that if he opened the book and propped it against the carton, the people in the pictures spoke and told him what to do. After half an hour Ginny was purring contentedly; Harry was also having a pleasant time kneading, rubbing, and pounding Ginny’s anatomy, and by taking deep breaths he managed to otherwise control himself and stay focused. After another half hour, Harry’s hands and arms were sore and tired, but Ginny had melted into the table and was feeling wonderful. Harry helped her up and led her to the tub; it was smaller than the other one and only Ginny could fit in it. There were low, padded benches around it for Harry to kneel on while he bathed her. She stayed in for an hour, emerging relaxed and wrinkled. He dried her off with a large, fluffy towel, and then he combed and brushed her hair until it was dry. They returned to the common room and, after saying goodbye until Sunday, they went to their separate beds. Ginny, now completely relaxed and tension–free, fell asleep immediately, but Harry tossed and turned restlessly for hours, unable to keep out of his mind the image of Ginny’s lovely form lying on the table under his hands. * * * * The Harpies scheduled a Portkey for Ginny and Regina Rohrback, Hufflepuff’s only seventh–year Chaser, who had been completely surprised when she got the invitation. “I look on it as a free trip to Holyhead,” she had told Ginny. “If anything comes of it, that’ll be a bonus.” Ginny wasn’t sure herself why the Harpies had invited Regina; she was a very competent Chaser, but certainly not the best in school, that being Demelza, who was only a sixth–year. Regina had unpretentious skills and didn’t seem to be all that interested in a Quidditch career. But Ginny liked her, which was good because they would be sharing a room. Early Friday afternoon Ginny and Regina reported to Madam Hooch’s office with their brooms and bags; Professor McGonagall and Madam Sprout were also there to wish their students well, and at one o’clock the Portkey on the desk — an old Quidditch gauntlet — glowed blue and they found themselves in a large, light, airy room. Through a row of open windows along one wall they could see, across open fields, a Quidditch pitch and the ocean about a quarter of a mile beyond. The building they were in seemed to be set atop a hill, and a glance out the windows on the other side showed no other habitations nearby. There were photographs of Quidditch matches and Harpies players hanging on the walls. At one end of the room was a fireplace with a large trophy case standing next to it filled with gold and silver trophies. Ginny and Regina were standing near a table with a witch in dark green Harpies robes sitting behind it; there were two other tables nearby. Ginny stepped up and the witch glanced at her without expression. “Name?” she said brusquely. “Ginny Weasley.” The witch glanced at her again, this time for a longer moment, then she ran a quill down the parchment in front of her. She stopped at the bottom of the list and put a check mark next to Ginny’s name. “Room 27, through the door over there, up a flight and turn left. Next.” “Is there a schedule?” Ginny asked. “Where do we eat?” “There’s a packet in your room. Next.” Ginny shook her head at Regina and stepped aside. The witch didn’t even glance at the Hufflepuff girl. They picked up their brooms and bags and walked toward the door across the room that the witch had indicated. There was a loud rushing noise to their right, and they saw another young witch appear with her broomstick and her luggage. Other hopefuls were standing at the other tables, bending over the lists and talking to the registration witches. “I know why she was being such a twit,” Ginny said as they climbed the stairs. “She’s Carrie Kacker; she’s a second–string Chaser so she probably figures we’re after her job.” Regina giggled. “You might be, but I don’t think she has much to worry about from me.” They came to a door marked 27. The room was spartan, with two cots, two night tables, one small closet, and shades on the window. “No chairs? No candles?” said Regina. “I guess we’re supposed to use our wands.” A packet of parchments tied in green ribbon was lying on each bed. Ginny threw her bag down, leaned her broom against the wall, and picked up a packet. She waved her wand, trying to conjure a chair, but nothing happened. She swore. “They’ve set a charm. We can’t use magic in here.” Regina had opened her packet and was flipping through the parchments. “Right. It says here they don’t want people trying to jinx each other.” She giggled again. The packet contained parchments describing the history of the Holyhead Harpies, and the immediate surroundings of their training facilities. They were located in a Muggle reserve west of the town, in the northwestern corner of Wales, due east across the Irish Sea from Dublin. The facilities consisted of the clubhouse they were in and the Quidditch pitch; both structures were invisible to Muggles. According to another parchment, they would take their meals in the large common room where they had arrived. They had to be back in their rooms by nine o’clock, and wands out by ten. The first tryout session was tomorrow morning at nine, with more tryouts in the afternoon. The final cuts would be made on Sunday morning at the third session. No one was allowed to leave the grounds during the tryouts. They were not allowed to send or receive owls. The room downstairs was converted into a lounge except for mealtimes, and people could go there to socialize, or else gather in their rooms. All magic was strictly forbidden except for the Lumos charm. Ginny was glad that Harry hadn’t even tried to come to Holyhead; their “connection” would easily have worked if he was anywhere nearby, and might have been detected. She felt her locket underneath her blouse, and touched her ruby ring. She never wore the ring during practice or a match, and she would leave it in her room during the tryouts, but she wondered about the locket. It had never given her any sign of holding magical powers, except for those emerald eyes. She smiled to herself; maybe that wasn’t magic at all, just the effect Harry had on her. She opened her bag and took out the photograph of Harry that she kept in her dorm room; she put in on her night stand. “My sweetie,” she whispered. “I miss you already.” “That’s a nice picture,” Regina said; she was sitting on her bed, also unpacking. “Do you have a date for the wedding?” “July 17, two months away.” “You’re lucky,” Regina said a little wistfully. “I don’t mean that you’re getting married, but that you have someone like him.” She grinned. “He broke a lot of hearts two years ago when he started dating you.” Ginny gazed at the photo; Harry winked and blew her a kiss, and she blew one back without thinking. She laughed, a little embarrassed. “I know I’m lucky. He’s the most wonderful wizard in the world.” They decided to go see the pitch, so they donned their House Quidditch robes, took their brooms, and went downstairs. They greeted three witches coming up the stairs with their brooms and luggage, and it seemed to Ginny that they stared at her. They definitely started whispering loudly to each other after they had passed. When they got to the common room, Ginny saw Brenda Touron, the scout who had been at the Slytherin match last November. She was talking to another witch and Ginny felt a thrill when she recognized the Harpies first–string Chaser and leading scorer, Jackie Lamour. Ginny stood behind Jackie with Regina until she caught Touron’s eye. “Ah, Miss Weasley and Miss Rohrback,” the scout said; Jackie turned and smiled at them. Ginny felt herself blush, and her brain froze. “I — I— We just got here, and we were — we were wondering.” The two witches looked at her expectantly. Ginny swore to herself, and took a breath. “I’m sorry. Miss Lamour, I’m Ginny Weasley, and you’ve always been my favorite player.” The Chaser nodded, and Ginny felt even more embarrassed. “I sound like an idiot.” This time the witches laughed, and Jackie held out her hand. “Welcome to Harpy Heaven, as we fondly call our little home.” She shook Regina’s hand, too. “We wanted to see the pitch,” Ginny said, trying to collect herself. “Is that okay? “Of course,” the scout replied. “Just don’t fly above the hoops and stay inside the walls. We shrink the magical screens when we’re not using it.” “I wonder if Muggles come around here much,” Regina said as they followed the path to the pitch that Jackie had shown them. Ginny shrugged. “I would guess not, otherwise the team wouldn’t stay here.” In a few minutes they were inside the stadium. Being only a practice pitch, it was smaller than the stadium at Hogwarts. Ginny mounted her broom, and kicked off. She did a circuit, then circled the hoops at one end and took off for the other end. She bent low and accelerated quickly; she hadn’t tied up her hair, and it streamed behind her as her robes billowed out. She knew that she cut a dramatic figure when she did that — red hair and red robes flashing across the sky. She let out a whoop and zipped between two of the hoops, then cut sharply to the right and flew back over the pitch. Regina was also in the air and Ginny watched her fly. Ginny hadn’t ever paid much attention to her; during the Hufflepuff match she had to concentrate on finding the Snitch, and when she was just a spectator she tended to watch the Seekers and not the Chasers. But the girl was not without skill. She was flying on a Nimbus 2001, neither the fastest nor the slowest broom around, and she had an air of dogged persistence about her. Ginny calculated that she wasn’t one to be easily ridden off the Quaffle. They flew for about ten minutes, and then more witches started arriving on the pitch, all with their brooms and wearing a variety of Quidditch robes. Ginny actually recognized one or two as players from other clubs in the league who had recently been let go by their teams. Soon the air was crowded, and Ginny and Regina landed. They walked over to a group of four witches who were watching the flyers. They all introduced themselves, and when Ginny said her own name they looked at her with interest. “You’re still at Hogwarts?” asked one, a lanky blonde named Felicity Bacon; she was wearing what looked like old Ravenclaw robes and was holding a Firebolt 21, the same model as Ginny’s. “That’s right, but only for one more month. Were you in Ravenclaw?” “Yeah, but I didn’t finish.” “Why, did you want to play Quidditch?” Ginny said without thinking, then stopped. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be nosey.” The witch shrugged. “I wanted to play, but I left because I got pregnant.” Her friends tittered and she scowled at them. “It’s no secret, everyone knows, so don’t fret about it,” she said to Ginny, who had turned red. Ginny decided to keep her mouth shut, and after a few minutes of listening to the ladies talk about the off–the–pitch prowess of various male players, she and Regina left. “That was interesting,” the Hufflepuff girl giggled as they walked back to the clubhouse. “It’s a different world out here, that’s for sure.” Ginny snorted. “Maybe, but I’ve known some Hogwarts girls who do a pretty good imitation of that lot.” She was thinking of Romilda Vane. “Maybe they don’t sleep around yet, but it’s a possible career path.” Ginny didn’t want to talk about it any more, at least not with Regina Rohrback, so she changed the subject and asked Regina about her family — they were from Surrey, but not near Little Whinging — and she was planning to join her father’s cauldron business after she left Hogwarts. “I hope you don’t run into my brother, Percy,” Ginny said dryly back in their room. “But you’re probably safe. He used to work in some ridiculous Ministry office that measured the thickness of imported cauldrons, but he’s in Magical Law Enforcement now. If he ever gives you any problems, let me know and I’ll shame him into leaving you and your dad alone.” She grinned evilly. “I know where all his skeletons are buried.” Regina laughed. “What about you? Do you want to have a career here? You’re probably good enough to make the team.” “Thanks. I’d like to play for a while, but I also want to have a family.” They were lying on their beds, leaning against their pillows, and Ginny looked down and touched her ruby ring. “Maybe a big family,” she laughed. “I have — had — six brothers, and maybe I’ll keep having kids until my last one isn’t a girl.” She laughed again, and felt a warm feeling creep up inside her. She was surprised at herself for opening up to someone she didn’t really know that well, but it felt good to be talking about Harry. Regina was watching her. “You’re really in love, aren’t you? I hope that doesn’t offend you,” she added hastily. “It’s just nice to see someone who has plans for her life that include a career and a family with someone she already knows. Most of the girls in our year don’t have a clue, including me.” She thought for a moment. “Well, maybe Keesha does, but she’s the only one. I do want to help my dad, but that’s not a real reason to start a career, is it?” “Why not?” Ginny was starting to like her roommate; she was honest, and it didn’t seem as though she was one to make judgments, a true Hufflepuff. “If my dad asked me, I’d probably spend a couple of years in the Ministry with him. But he’d never ask; he knows how much I want to play.” “You’re lucky to have a dad like that. I’ve always been expected to join the business, and I do feel I owe it to the family.” Another Hufflepuff trait, Ginny thought to herself. Regina continued. “I hope you don’t mind my saying this, but you and Harry really make a beautiful couple. Whenever he’s with you, he never takes his eyes from you. He used to be kind of... well, angry. I guess he always had a lot more on his mind than most people, but he never looked happy, not until he started dating you. Then it was like a candle being lit, he just started glowing.” She giggle self–consciously. “I’m sorry. I’m actually a little jealous, like probably half the girls in our year. But to look at the both of you, you were really made for each other.” “Yes,” Ginny said, smiling, “I think so too.” They both laughed, then Regina started talking about their classes — she didn’t have any with Ginny this year because she wasn’t interested in N.E.W.T. levels. They chatted until a loud gong sounded from downstairs. “Dinner,” said Ginny. They walked into the corridor with the other prospects, and down in the large room they found a long table in the center and a shorter table at one end, perpendicular to it. A half–dozen witches in dark green team robes with a golden talon on the chest sat at the shorter table. The hopefuls took seats at the long table. Ginny and Regina sat between a witch with reddish–brown hair who looked to be younger than themselves, and the lanky blonde who they had seen on the Quidditch pitch. As soon as everyone — about three dozen all together — was seated, a middle–aged witch at the head table rose. “Welcome to Harpy Heaven,” she smiled. “I am Happy Fields, head coach of the Holyhead Harpies. We hold these tryouts whenever we have openings on the team, and we always look forward to the chance to introduce new blood into our organization. Most of you will be here until Saturday evening, a few of you until Sunday morning. We ask you to read carefully the handouts we left in your rooms. We expect everyone to obey the rules, but also to enjoy yourselves and make new friends. If you have any questions about anything, please ask anyone on the staff. We’ll be wearing our uniform robes all weekend.” She stopped and looked down the long table. “We’ll hold our first meeting half an hour after dinner ends. Meanwhile, enjoy the meal!” She smiled again and sat down. Food appeared on the table, just as it did at Hogwarts. Soon everyone was tucking in and talking; the room filled with conversation. Ginny discovered that the younger witch’s name was Ginger Beale and she was from the East End of London, which Ginny thought was near where Dean Thomas lived. The girl had only a vague idea about what or where Hogwarts was, but, when Ginny introduced herself, the girl’s eyes grew wide and she stared as though she had just met a Muggle rock star. “Bugger, you’re ‘arry Potter’s girl, aincha?” she said in an awed voice. “Blimey, I never thought I’d ‘ave a seat next to someone like you.” “Please,” Ginny was completely embarrassed. “It’s no big deal. I’m just an ordinary witch.” “Right.” The girl nodded with a half–smile. “Nice of you to say that. I seen your picture in the Prophet. Your ‘Arry seems like a right ‘andsome bloke. Do ‘e treat you good?” “Very.” “‘At’s nice. Lot’s a’ blokes don’t treat their witches right. I know a few neat little spells, though, just to keep ‘em in line.” She winked at Ginny. “There’s a good ‘un what sticks a lot a’ bat boogers on their smilin’ faces. I could teach it to you, just in case ‘ol ‘Arry gets out a’ line. The Chosen One, right?” She laughed. Ginny forced a laugh; she wasn’t sure what to make of this witch, but her comments made Ginny aware, in a way she hadn’t been before, of what it must be like for Harry whenever someone recognized him in public. “I actually know that jinx,” she said. “It’s very effective, isn’t it?” “Yeah,” Ginger grinned. “You didn’ ‘ave to use it on ‘Arry, did you?” Ginny shook her head and grinned back. “I used it a couple of times on my brothers, once or twice at school, and once I was going to use it on a Muggle git but Harry did it instead so I wouldn’t get in trouble with the Ministry.” The girl snorted. “The Ministry! A pack a’ fat prats who don’ know their arse from a teakettle. But why did you think they would a’ cared if you hexed a Muggle? ‘ell, it ‘appens all the time where I come from.” “It does? Don’t they come after you? How old are you, er, if you don’t mind my asking.” “Seventeen last month. An’ every so often they do come nosin’ around if someone rolls a Muggle, but they never stay long. Too dangerous,” she grinned. “Interesting.” Ginny really did find the girl and her conversation interesting. She obviously lived in a completely different world from her own; maybe Stan Shunpike would have been familiar with it, but it was brand new to her. “How long have you been playing Quidditch?” Ginny asked. “About five years. There’s a social club run by some do–gooders who ain’t much use except for Quidditch. They’re always throwin’ goodness at ya’, but one a’ them charmed an old warehouse and we practice inside. My brother, um, found a broom for me a couple a’ years ago, an’ last month that lady up there —” she pointed to Brenda Touron who was sitting at the head table “— showed up, an’ she asked me to come ‘ere. What about you?” Ginny described how she had flown on her own at home for years when her brothers wouldn’t let her fly with them, and then how she had got on the Gryffindor team. “We have a Cup that we all compete for each year. This year I was the captain and we won the Cup.” Ginger nodded. “I seen ya’ flying this afternoon. Nice broom. A Firebolt 21, right? I’d like to get one a’ them someday. The one my brother found is kinda old, a Cleansweep, but I figured out some tricks to boost ‘er up.” She grinned again. “Would you mind it I gave yours a go? I’d love t’ see what it’s like.” “Sure,” Ginny smiled. ‘I’d be happy to. Maybe after the meeting we can go back down to the pitch.” Soon the meal ended and Ginny went back up to her room. She took out the Harpies book, which she had brought along, and re–read about the team’s history until the gong sounded and everyone trooped down to the common room. The long table was gone and there were chairs arranged in front of the end table, where the same witches were sitting who had been at the meal. When all were settled, Coach Fields stood and spoke. “At this time we want to introduce you to our organization and tell you what you can expect this weekend. At the end of the table is Gwenog Jones, our first position Beater and team captain. Next to her is Brenda Touron, our scout, who most of you have met. On my left is Stephanie Dee, our Chaser coach, and next to her is Jackie Lamour, our first–position Chaser. Miss Dee will handle the rest of the meeting.” Coach Dee, the one whom Ginny had given the Golden Snitch to at the end of the Hufflepuff match, stood. “There are thirty–five of you here. Two of our Chasers, including the second–position, are retiring. This weekend you are not competing for that position, but just for one of the two open jobs on the team. The two witches who are selected will start at the bottom of the ladder and compete with our present players. “We carry six Chasers on the team, and one of them, Miss Lamour, has been a league all–star for five years in a row, and was on the national team that competed for the World Cup four years ago. We expect her to make the national team again this year.” She nodded to the Chaser and sat down. Jackie rose. “The Harpies have a distinct style of play on the offense. We don’t expect you to know it, but we do expect new team members to learn it quickly, especially with it being so close to the start of the league season. We aren’t as physically strong as the wizards we play against, but we make up for it with speed, quickness, and brains.” She paused and smiled. “They often underestimate us, and when they do, they pay.” There was appreciative laughter and some applause as she sat. Gwenog Jones spoke last. “I’m the Harpies captain and one of the Beaters. Defense is the one area in which it’s difficult to make up for the natural physical differences between witches and wizards that Jackie talked about. Because of that, we emphasize offense a little more than some of the other clubs. That makes you, as Chasers, all the more important. I’ll be out there tomorrow and Sunday watching you and helping to decide which two of you will fit into our system best. It won’t necessarily be the fastest, but it will definitely not be the ones who lack discipline and teamwork.” This speech was greeted with silence. Coach Dee asked for questions, and when there were none, announced that the meeting was over; she reminded them that they had to be in their rooms by nine and lights out by ten. Ginny found Ginger Beale and suggested that they head down to the pitch right away, since they had only about an hour until curfew. Regina decided to stay in the room and try to get to sleep early, so Ginny and Ginger went by themselves. On the way to the pitch Ginger talked about her family — she had two brothers and two sisters — and how much she was hoping to make the team. “It’s not like I hate everything about it,” Ginger said, “but it’s pretty depressing where I live. There ain’t much to do except get into trouble and have babies. I figure if I make the team as the last Chaser, they’ll still pay me enough to get meself outa there.” “Where would you live?” The girl looked out over the gentle swells of the Irish Sea, a few hundred yards away. “It’s nice ‘ere, ain’t it? If I make the cut, maybe I’ll look around the town for a place. I don’t got much back in London, so I might as well move up ‘ere as soon as I can.” “It does seem nice here,” Ginny agreed. “My brother and sister–in–law live in a beautiful little cottage right on the sea, and it’s my favorite place, except for home and —” She stopped without mentioning the flat. They entered the pitch and exchanged brooms. Ginger started slowly but soon was streaking around the pitch grinning broadly and shouting to Ginny. Ginny had flown on plenty of Cleansweeps and was able to keep up with the girl. When they landed Ginger examined the Firebolt. “What a sweet broom!” she said admiringly. “‘ow long ‘ave you ‘ad it?” “Almost a year. It was a birthday present from my mum and dad.” Ginger got a wistful look. “There’s no way me own mum could afford something like this.” She looked at Ginny, who was still holding the Cleansweep. “You were flying that piece a’ junk like it was your own.” “When I was sneaking out of the house to fly, that’s all we had. I still don’t know how Dad could afford a Firebolt.” As they were walking back to the clubhouse, Ginny asked hesitantly, “You said your mum couldn’t afford a Firebolt. What about your dad?” “‘e’s dead. Someone killed ‘im in a duel about five years ago. But ‘e left us when I was a baby an’ whatever gold ‘e ever earned went into Firewhisky.” “I’m sorry I asked,” Ginny said quietly. “I didn’t mean to pry.” “Ah, don’t trouble yourself. ‘E was a bastard; ‘e got what ‘e deserved. Let’s not talk about ‘im.” Ginny was silent until they were almost at the clubhouse. Then she stopped; Ginger looked at her curiously, and Ginny took her arm and pulled her until they were away from the building. “Do you know anything about the Harpies’ system? You know, what Jackie Lamour was talking about in the meeting?” Ginger shook her head, but got a speculative expression on her face. “Can’t say that I’ve ever even thought about it. I was never much interested in following them.” “I have something that might help you. Come on up to my room.” They went up and found Regina in bed in her nightgown reading a copy of Witch Weekly; Ginny introduced her to Ginger, then went to her bag and, with a surreptitious finger to her lips, took the Harpies book out and stuck it under her robes. They went out into the corridor. “It’s a magical book,” Ginny said in a low voice. “It shows how they do everything. I used it during our matches at school and it worked great. Don’t let anyone else see it.” Ginger grinned. “Thanks, Ginny. I’ll be up late tonight with me wand under the covers. And that’s a swell picture of ‘Arry you got; it looks just like I seen ‘im in the Prophet.” They parted — Ginger’s room was at the other end of the corridor — and Ginny went back inside and got ready for bed. She lay awake long after the gong sounded at ten o’clock and Regina had doused her wand, thinking about Ginger. She reminded Ginny of herself in many ways, except for the circumstances of her upbringing. In that respect they were completely different, and Ginny wondered how well she would be able to cope with the life that Ginger seemed simply to laugh at. She took out the locket, and two emerald green points of light sparkled in the pitch blackness of the room. She put the locket to her lips and kissed Harry’s face. She missed him so much, yet she was also so happy to be where she was. It would be horrible if Harry couldn’t come to her matches — assuming that she made the team — but when she compared her own life to Ginger’s, she could only feel gratitude for her parents, her family, Harry, and everyone else who had helped bring her to this point. She had so much to be thankful for, and Harry’s missing her matches was nothing compared to Ginger’s problems; her father probably had never even seen her fly. Yet Ginger was cheerful, friendly, and curious about Ginny. She didn’t show any signs of jealousy or resentment about the advantages that Ginny might have in the tryouts. Ginny had attended Hogwarts, where she had honed her Quidditch skills in an environment that valued them. Ginger’s Quidditch experience was limited, and it was unlikely that her coaches could compare even to Harry. Ginny had all the advantages and Ginger had all the disadvantages, yet it didn’t seem to bother the girl. Ginny felt drawn to her, and Ginger seemed to reciprocate the feeling. But Ginny didn’t want to appear patronizing. She had never had a friend who wasn’t from the same background as herself; their families might be richer or poorer, but their upbringings were essentially the same. This would be interesting, she thought. She turned on her side and fell asleep. * * * * At nine o’clock the next morning everyone gathered in the middle of the Quidditch pitch. The rest of the Harpies team had arrived, except for the two Seekers. The two Keepers and the four Beaters split and went to opposite ends of the pitch. The hopefuls were divided into two groups, and Ginny found herself in the same group as Ginger. “I was up until two reading the book,” Ginger whispered. “It’s bloody brilliant!” Ginny grinned and nodded. “If they put us in the same trio, we’ll try the Toast And Jam maneuver. At least it’ll surprise them.” Ginger nodded; she had a gleam in her eye. “Good one, that. They probably won’t be expecting it.” Regina was not in their group. Ginny wished her luck, then she and Ginger followed Gwenog Jones and the number four Beater, Sally Brown, to the end of the pitch. The tryout candidates sat together on the grass. Ginny was in the first trio to be called, but Ginger was not. They flew up about thirty feet, and Happy Fields tossed Ginny the Quaffle. “I want at least three passes before you shoot. I don’t care who scores, I’m not looking for scoring ability, at least not yet. You have to get the Quaffle near the goal before you can score.” The three Chasers looked at each other, then Ginny led them toward the two Beaters who were hovering between them and the hoops. She flew to within twenty feet, then tossed the Quaffle back to the second Chaser and dropped ten feet. The Chaser circled up, drawing Sally Brown toward her; as the Beater was about to launch a Bludger, she passed to the third Chaser. Ginny, meanwhile had drifted underneath Gwenog Jones; suddenly she shot up behind her, received the Quaffle and streaked for the goal. But as she was about to shoot, Jones reared up in front of her and, with a grin, smacked Ginny in the midriff with a Bludger. She dropped the Quaffle and doubled over her broom, the breath knocked out of her; she had no idea where Jones had come from. She looped back without looking at the Beater and the Chasers re–grouped. “Are you okay?” one of them said. Ginny nodded and gulped air. “Try it again, but this time I’ll fake it. If I’m open, give me the Quaffle and just fly straight for the hoops. I’ll get it back to you.” The two Chasers grinned and nodded. Fields handed the Quaffle to Ginny again. This time Ginny backed off from Jones instead of drifting underneath her but, at the last second, shot up into the clear. She took the pass from her companion, drawing Jones after her. Ginny’s return pass was true, and the Chaser got a clean shot on goal. Gwenog Jones looked at Ginny but said nothing. “Good one!” Coach Fields called. “One more rush.” This time the second Chaser started the attack, and Ginny ended up with the Quaffle almost directly in front of the hoops, but Jones, whom Ginny had faked out of position, recovered just in time to launch a Bludger that caught her shoulder. Ginny flew down holding her arm against her body and landed roughly. A witch in Healer’s robes came over. “Let me see that,” she said, and took Ginny’s arm. “It’s fine,” she winced. “I just need to work it out.” “It’s dislocated,” the Healer replied, taking her wand out; she waved it over Ginny’s shoulder. “Now it’s not. You’re doing well, by the way.” She smiled and walked away. Ginny went back to the other Chasers rubbing her shoulder. “Are you okay?” Ginger asked as Ginny sat. “You looked great up there. I thought that first Bludger would knock you off the damn broom.” “I never saw her,” Ginny grunted. “I should have scored on the last rush.” “That Jones bird is pretty good.” The tryouts proceeded. Ginger was in the last trio to fly, and she scored once, the first Chaser to do so. Ginny watched her closely; she was very quick, even though her broom was inferior to most of the others. She could stop and turn quickly, and had a sense for the Quaffle. She was also tough; she took a Bludger from Gwenog in the face, and Ginny could swear she saw Ginger spit out a tooth. When she landed, the Healer looked in her mouth, waved her wand, and gave her a potion to drink. “It’s supposed to grow them back,” the girl said to Ginny during the break that followed. “It tasted like frog piss.” Ginny laughed. “Do they have frogs in the East End?” Ginger grinned, and Ginny saw the gap in her front teeth. “Just rats. But I’ve ‘ad beer that tastes worse, and everyone calls it frog piss.” After the break they were split into different trios, and Ginny and Ginger flew together. They told their third Chaser what they were going to do, and on their first rush they charged the hoops together, side by side. As they approached the Beaters, Ginny rose straight up; Ginger, in the middle, flew straight ahead; and the third Chaser dropped down. The Beaters split; Ginny, who had the Quaffle, simply dropped it to Ginger who streaked for the goal and scored for the second time. This time Gwenog Jones flew up to Ginny. “Have you been doing some reading?” she asked with a thoughtful look. “Maybe,” Ginny replied. Jones nodded, then flew back to her position. The Chasers decided to freelance for their next two rushes, and both times Ginny was able to spring one of the others free. Ginger scored again, but the other Chaser was ridden off the Quaffle by Brown. When they landed and took their seats, Ginger was quivering with excitement. “Bloody ‘ell, you are good!” she said to Ginny. “I ‘eard that ‘Arry Potter was good, too. You two must be quite a pair.” “We have played together a little,” Ginny blushed, and Ginger laughed. “I’ll bet you ‘ave,” she grinned. Ginny was nonplused at first, but when she looked at Ginger she also grinned. “We love it up there,” she said, and they both laughed. Soon it was lunch time, and then another session in the afternoon. This time Coach Dee directed Ginny’s group, and she had Ginny and Ginger fly together for most of the afternoon. They faced Gwenog and the number two Beater, Sufa Sultana, and the first–string Keeper, Maura Robinson. Ginger didn’t score any goals, and both she and Ginny took Bludgers in the back and arms. Afterward, many of the Chasers were nursing bumps and bruises, and had to visit the Healer’s room in the clubhouse. Back in their own room, Ginny and Regina helped each other rub a potion that the Healer had given them into their shoulders and hands, but Regina was cheerful. “I had some fun, but I expect they’ll be letting me go this evening. How did it go with you and Ginger?” “I think okay,” Ginny said, grimacing a little as she moved her arm around. “I got my shoulder dislocated in the morning and she had two teeth knocked out. Maybe that helps, I don’t know.” Regina grinned. “It probably does. Well,” she sighed and looked around the room. “I’ll pack now and avoid the rush.” Dinner was not as noisy as the other meals had been. No one wanted to talk about the tryouts because the coaches and team players were sitting only a few feet away. Most of the conversation was about a new model broomstick that was supposed to be better than the Firebolt. When they were finished eating, the tables were cleared and Happy Fields rose. “We’ve always believed that bad news should be delivered as soon as it’s available. We truly thank all of you for coming here, and those of you who are being asked to leave, we wish you well. There is nothing personal in our decisions, we base them on what is best for the Holyhead Harpies. I know that’s not easy to accept sometimes, but don’t be discouraged. Keep practicing and keep trying. Most of our players were cut at least once by someone. “Here are the names of the four who are being asked to stay. Everyone else is requested to leave before the nine o’clock curfew.” She cleared her throat. “Miss Felicity Bacon, Miss Ginger Beale, Miss Elizabeth King, and Miss Ginny Weasley.” “Blimey!” Ginger said in the buzz of conversation that followed. She looked at Ginny with wide eyes and a huge grin. “I never thought I’d ‘ear my name tonight.” Ginny nodded; she had barely breathed for the past five minutes. She also felt a strange sensation, as though part of her was elsewhere, and she knew that Harry had heard her name being called. She was aware of Regina’s enthusiastic congratulations, but she suddenly wanted Harry; she wanted to tell him all about today, to put her mouth on his and feel his arms around her. This was such a big moment for her, and the person she wanted to be with the most was hundreds of miles away. She patted Ginger’s hand and pushed away from the table. “We haven’t made it yet; they have to choose two of us.” “No problem,” Ginger shook her head. “I saw those other two. We’re miles better. It’s in the bag, Ginny, we’re on the team.” Ginny had to admit that Ginger was probably right. Both of the other girls had been in their afternoon group, and Ginny honestly believed that she and Ginger were better. But it wasn’t decided yet. She tried to calm herself; she didn’t want disappointment to be too bitter. Something bad could happen, she could fall off her broom or screw up somehow. But there had been that flash that she had “sent” to Harry, and she didn’t want to let him down. She went back upstairs where Regina was finishing her packing. “Good luck to you and Ginger,” she said smiling. “Everyone’s saying that the two of you are cinches to make it. That will be really cool, to have a Hogwarts witch on the Harpies.” “We haven’t made it yet,” Ginny said, flopping down on her bed. “But tell everyone at school I’ll do my best and see them tomorrow.” Regina left, and soon the whole building seemed much quieter. The room was getting darker, and Ginny lit her wand and lay there, rubbing her finger on her ring; she took out her locket again and lay it open on the bed, gazing at Harry’s picture. Where was this longing coming from, she wondered? It was almost as if he was close by and she was not able to get to him, to touch him, to have him touch her. She closed her eyes; Merlin, she thought, it had better not be like this when we’re married and I have to go away for days at a time. I’ll never make it. There was a knock, and the door opened. “Hey, Ginny,” said Ginger. “‘ere’s your book back. I asked if we could move in together, but Coach said they want us to stay in our own rooms.” “Come on in,” Ginny swung her legs around and sat on the bed. “It sounds like everyone’s left.” Ginger looked at the locket lying on the bed, and Ginny handed it to her. “It was a birthday present. His eyes are really like that.” “Bloody ‘ell, no wonder you’re in love with ‘im. ‘e could ‘ave any bird ‘e wanted with them eyes.” “And lots of them tried,” Ginny laughed. “Someone tried to give him a love potion once, but my brother got it instead.” “Love potion?” Ginger snickered. “Someone’s always passin’ off sugar water for one of them. A couple of years ago I bought some for this bloke I fancied, but ‘e puked ‘is guts out when ‘e drank it. ‘E never took notice of me, neither.” Ginny gazed at her; there was such a vast difference between them, but she was hoping that they would end up as teammates. “Would you like to come to my wedding?” she blurted. Ginger stared at her, then put down the locket. “Do you mean that?” “Yeah, of course I mean it. I’d love for you to meet Harry. And you’d love my mum, she’s got the biggest heart in the world. And my brothers, too. They’d all love you.” Ginger gazed at her, and Ginny wondered if she had made a mistake. Had that been patronizing? “Look,” she said, “I really like you, and I’d really like you to meet Harry. If you don’t feel comfortable coming to the wedding...” “Okay,” Ginger smiled shyly; it was a completely different look from any other that Ginny had seen on her face. “It sounds grand. Where will it be?” “At my house in Devonshire, near a village called Ottery St. Catchpole. It’s called the Burrow.” “What is? The village?” “No,” Ginny giggled, “our house. I don’t know why, that’s just always been its name.” “I was in Exeter once, I think. Me dad got busted by the Muggles, and Mum ‘ad to go there to rescue ‘im. I was only about two.” She glanced shyly at Ginny again. “That would be brilliant to meet ‘Arry Potter.” “Good, then it’s settled!” Ginny beamed. “It’ll be on July 17, and I’ve already checked the schedule and there aren’t any Harpies matches for two weeks before or after.” “I thought you said we ‘adn’t made the team yet.” “It’s in the bag,” Ginny laughed. They sat next to each other on the bed, talking about the tryouts and their chances for tomorrow, and what they would do if they made the team. “I’ll ‘ave to figure ‘ow to get another broom for a spare,” Ginger said with a thoughtful look. “Maybe me brother can find one again.” She grinned at Ginny. “I hadn’t thought of that,” Ginny frowned. “I guess we’re supposed to have two brooms. I’ll probably use one of the Cleansweeps or old Comets we keep in the shed. Say, I’ll bet my Dad would let you have one.” “That would be brilliant!” Ginger said. “Blimey, thanks Ginny. And thanks from me brother, too.” They both laughed. Then they heard the gong, and Ginger returned to her room. Ginny put the locket back on the bed, changed into her nightgown, and lay down. She fell asleep with two green eyes looking at her. The tryouts the next morning went quickly; each of the four prospects formed a trio with two Chasers from the team. The other two, Felicity Bacon and Elizabeth King, played competently, but Ginny and Ginger knew the system and worked smoothly with the two Harpy Chasers. After a brief conference of the coaches and captain, Ginny and Ginger were awarded the two vacant positions. “Congratulations,” Happy Fields said as she shook their hands. Ginny’s was trembling when she extended hers; her mouth opened but no words came out. Ever since she had met Gwenog Jones and Brenda Touron on the day of the Slytherin match, she had wondered if this would actually happen. Now it had, and she couldn’t speak. She looked at Ginger, who also seemed stunned. They grinned, then threw their arms around each other and laughed. The coaches and Gwenog smiled and clapped. “Back to Harpy Heaven,” said Coach Fields. “You are now Harpies, and the first order of business is to fit your uniforms. Actually, the first order was to send an owl to the Prophet but that’s already been done. Come!” Back in the clubhouse changing room they were measured with a magical tape, and two uniforms flew out of a closet. Ginny’s whole body shook as she put hers on; she was close to tears when she looked in the mirror and saw the golden talon emblazoned on the front. She stared at her reflection, and knew that even though she couldn’t see them there, her whole family was standing behind her. And once again she had that sensation, as though part of her had gone someplace else. Ginger was also looking at herself in a mirror, running her hands over the smooth leather shirt and touching the talon. “Pretty threads,” she grinned. “How about a quick run into town?” said Gwenog. “Unless you have to be going right away, we like to treat new teammates to a drink. There’s a small inn in Holyhead, the Flying Claw.” New teammates, Ginny thought. I’m a “teammate.” I’m a Holyhead Harpy. I’m a professional Quidditch player. She shook her head and looked around, wondering if she would wake up and find it all a dream. But it was still there; she was still in Harpy Heaven, she was still wearing dark green with a golden talon. “I could use a drink,” said Ginger. They went up to their rooms and put their street clothes on; back downstairs, Gwenog and Stephanie Dee were waiting. “It’s only about a mile,” said Gwenog. “We try to keep a very low profile in the Muggle sections, so we’ll walk. The inn is near the inlet.” They left the clubhouse and picked up a path that turned into a paved Muggle road. The ocean was only a few hundred yards on their left. After walking for five minutes they started to see automobiles and houses. In the town of Holyhead they followed winding roads and came to a street of small, ordinary–looking row houses. Half–way down the block they turned into a walkway. There was a picture of a winged talon painted on the door, and Gwenog knocked three times with her knuckles, not with the large brass knocker. She pushed the door open and they entered. It was a lot like the Leaky Cauldron, but smaller. It smelled of mead and firewhisky, and a haze of smoke floated near the beamed ceiling. It was dark, but somehow still seemed cheery. There were only a few people in it, and they all turned when the newcomers stepped inside. “Gwenog!” a wizard called from the bar. “These are your new Chasers? Welcome to Holyhead, my lovelies!” Ginny and Ginger exchanged glances and grinned. Then Ginny did a double–take and looked past her new friend at a booth along the side of the room. A figure stood; Ginny shrieked and clapped her hand to her mouth when she saw, in the shadows, two emerald green sparks of light, and then the smiling face of Harry Potter.
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