Bit of Ivory

Yes, this is just an excuse to procrastinate. . .

January 30th, 2004 · No Comments

“No, it’s my fault,” Harry said as he continued to gather Ginny’s things. “I was kind of lost in thought.”

“I know the feeling,” Ginny said, a little absently. It had been a long time since she had seen Harry this close-up, and she didn’t like what she saw. His face had the same worn, haggard look that Professor Lupin had always shown right before and after his transformations. His eyes showed very little life, almost as if his soul had died. He’s worse off than I realized , Ginny thought. If You-Know-, no, Voldemort, doesn’t kill him off, his worry will. I need to talk to him, get his mind off things for a while—but what to say? “Umm. . .what are you doing here, anyway? Don’t you have class?”

This was written pre-OotP, obviously, and I projected that the events of GoF would push Harry into depression rather than anger. I was wrong, but it was a logical assumption to make. Ginny making the conscious effort to think “Voldemort” was there before I made provisions in the story for a reason that she would try to say it. It kind of took me by surprise. I ended up revising the previous chapter to include the fact that Dumbledore was encouraging the students to say his name.

“Sixth years get a study period once a week, to help prepare for N.E.W.T.s,” Harry replied as he handed Ginny her Potions essay. “Ron and Hermione were playing footsie under the table, and I just felt like I needed to get away from there. What about you? Don’t you have class?”

I completely skipped 5th year, you noticed. I wanted this a bit more in the future. I wanted Ron and Hermione to be together, so that Harry would be forced to look elsewhere for companionship, but I didn’t want to go into it much. I also didn’t want to have to cover the enitre time between 5th year and the end of 7th before I could have their realization moment.

“Usually, but Herbology was cancelled because of the storm. I didn’t sleep so well last night, so I was going back to Gryffindor to take a nap before Potions. I don’t really feel like getting Detention from Snape for falling asleep in class.”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.” I didn’t want Harry to seem too extremely interested at this point– just making polite conversation. Harry looked around to see if there was anything on the floor they might have missed. As he looked at the door they were standing in front of, he suddenly went pale. It took a minute for Ginny to realize why. They were standing in front of the prefect’s bathroom.

I had to give Harry a reason to open up.  The reminder of what Cedric had done for him seemed like enough.

Ginny hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do. In the meantime, Harry kept staring at the door, seemingly lost in thought. Ginny screwed up her courage and quietly said, “Harry, what’s wrong?” As if I didn’t know. . .but I need to give him the chance to bring it up. . .

“I’ve never been back inside there, you know.” Harry’s reply was barely more than a whisper, and Ginny thought she could hear it quavering a bit.
“I’ve been a prefect for a year, and I can’t bring myself to go back inside. I thought that if I avoided it, it would be less painful—that I wouldn’t have to remember—”

Harry, of course, didn’t end up being a prefect, so this scene could never have happened this way. In a way I’m kind of glad he didn’t, as the whole issue of the prefect’s bathroom was avoided. I do think it would conjure unpleasant memories for Harry.

Ginny could tell that he didn’t want to say the words, but that he needed to say them, nonetheless. So she said them instead.

My Ginny understands Harry in a way no one else does, and knows exactly what he needs. She’s just not usually
in a position to help.

“That Cedric helped you.”

Harry turned to her, startled. “How did you know? I’ve never told you. . .”

“Hermione filled me in. I think she thought that if I knew, I would be careful not to mention it to you.” Noting the pained look on Harry’s face, she quickly began to apologize. “I’m sorry, Harry; I didn’t mean to hurt you—”

“No,” Harry interrupted, “it’s all right. I guess it’s better that you know.” He fell silent, gazing again at the door.

“Do—do you want to talk about it?” Not wanting to push him, Ginny quickly added “If you don’t that’s okay, I just thought it might help—”

“I’ve talked about it with Ron and Hermione dozens of times,” Harry said, the bitterness evident in his voice. “It’s never seemed to help.” He paused, looking at her. “But maybe you could give me a different perspective.” Gah. I hate this line. It’s so unnatural. But I had to give Harry a reasonable excuse to pour his guts out, at least something he can tell himself. He doesn’t realize that it’s actually Ginny, of course– their connection, her ways, get him to open up. I wish I could have come up with a better way for him to lead into it, though.

“I’ll do my best,” Ginny replied. She beckoned to a stone bench a few feet down the corridor. “Shall we sit down?” Ginny’s formality is betraying her nervousness, I think, although I didn’t put it into the narration.

They walked to the bench and sat in silence for a few minutes. Ginny was perfectly satisfied just to sit close to Harry, waiting for him to start talking.
Eventually, he did. In L.M. Montgomery’s The Blue Castle, someone says that if you can sit in silence with someone for half an hour without feeling uncomfortable, you and that person can be friends. Of course, Harry doesn’t delay for nearly as long as that, but I wanted that idea to be present.

“He came up to me after the Yule Ball. Said that I had done him a favor with the dragons, he wanted to help me out with the egg. I wasn’t too happy
with him at that point—He had, after all, just spent the whole night with Cho.” I like Harry’s dialogue here–he doesn’t speak in complete sentences, so it has a bit of a choppy feeling. Really stream-of-consiousness kind of stuff. Harry laughed then, a humorless laugh with a cynical note behind it.I stole the cynical laugh from The Blue Castle as well. The hero laughs very cynically at the beginning. I must have just re-read it when I wrote this.
Ginny didn’t like it. “I had such a crush on her. Of course, I didn’t know her very well then. All I knew was that she was pretty and was always
nice to me, even when the whole school thought I had cheated to get my name in the Goblet. I know her better now; she’s a nice enough girl, but I
don’t think we would have suited each other, even if it hadn’t been for—” I didn’t expect for Harry’s relationship
with Cho to go as far as it did in OotP. I always thought that Cedric would come between them. Well, in a way I was right– Cedric did cause
a lot of problems. And they didn’t suit, either, so I was right about that. Heh. Ginny thought she would have to supply Cedric’s name again, but Harry managed it— “Cedric. Anyway, he told me to take a bath, and gave me the password to the prefect’s bathroom. If it hadn’t have been for him, I never would have figured out that the Second Task would take place in the lake.”

“That was really nice of him,” Ginny said, sensing that Harry needed a little prompting to go on. “I didn’t know him very well, but he was always nice to
me, too—he even knew my name.” Cedric seemed like the kind of guy who would know everyone’s name, even the
younger kids. Of course, the Weasleys live relatively close to the Diggorys, but there was still quite an age difference between him and Ginny. Most guys would only know that she was “that Weasley girl.”

“Yes, that would be Cedric. Some people thought he was just trying to be popular, but he wasn’t—he really cared about people, about their feelings. In fact, that generosity could have saved him—if I hadn’t listened to my everlasting sense of decency. I probably should have had Harry swear here, but I couldn’t do it. I also had the line that Ian McKellen says in The Scarlet Pimpernel in my head– “Oh, the English, and their stupid sense of fair play.” It ended up sounding kind of like that. We both reached the Triwizard Cup at almost the same time. He tried to get me to take it—I’d just helped him defeat the acromantula that sneaked up behind him, and he felt that I deserved it. Of course, I couldn’t allow that—he’d gotten there first, it was his win. We spent a few minutes discussing it. Finally, I suggested we both take the cup together—to tie. If only I’d taken his offer— if only I had taken the cup alone—he’d—he’d still be alive.” Harry’s dialogue is
a bit more formal here than I’d like. I’m not so good at dialogue yet. He’s fighting with his emotions, he should have been less coherent.

Harry hung his head, trembling. Ginny could see the tears start to form. Impulsively, she reached out and took his hand, her own eyes blurring with tears. The feel of her hand in his brought her back to her dream of the night before, and of her strong desire to somehow help him. She realized now that this was her chance. Very, very quietly, she said what Harry desperately needed to hear—and to believe. Awwww. I
based this part a little bit on my grandfather. He has Parkinson’s disease, and his body won’t let him do much anymore. Once I went to sit next to him on the couch, and I impulsively took his hand and held it. It was a small way of giving comfort. Of course, this little bit of hand-holding has romantic connotations, which mine did not.

“Harry, it wasn’t your fault.” I still don’t think that Harry has given up blaming himself for Cedric’s death. After he’s run the gamut of blaming everyone else, I have a feeling he’ll start blaming himself for Sirius’ as well. Poor boy already has enough to worry about.

He didn’t answer, just shook his head, trying to hold back the tears.Seeing this, Ginny gently said “Don’t hold back. You need to let it all out. You’ve been holding it all in for the last year and a half, and it’s eating you up inside. Just let go.” She gently pulled Harry to her, holding him tight while he sobbed. “Just let go,” she repeated. Whoo! Go Ginny! I don’t know if I ever could have done this with they guy I was crushing on, no matter if he was crying or not. But Ginny’s different than I am. Harry’s felt he had to be strong around Ron and Hermione, and as much as I love Hermione, I don’t see her holding Harry while he sobs. She’d be more likely to chat at him the whole time. That’s not what Harry needs right now.

Ginny didn’t know how long they sat there with her arms around Harry as he cried into her shoulder, but it was a long time. Ginny was grateful for the time; she didn’t know what to do next. She was sure that Harry had heard those words before—from Ron, from Hermione, from Dumbledore, even from her own mother. Yeah, Harry had heard those words before. Why should hearing them from Ginny be any different? Ah-hah. Because they share a bond! What she needed to do was to help him believe it. She thought back again to that summer after her first year when she was battling with feelings of guilt for what had happened with the Chamber of Secrets. She remembered the tears she shed that summer, the nights she spent believing that it was all her fault. And suddenly, she realized how she could help; and, ironically, that she was the only one that could do it. I still believe that Ginny is the only one who can completely understand what Harry is going through, with the feelings of guilt, and with the whole posession by Voldemort thing, anyway. When Harry had finally calmed down enough that he could pay attention, she spoke.

“Funny, isn’t it? We both avoid bathrooms. You avoid the Prefect’s bathroom; I avoid Moaning Myrtle’s.” I thought that this would be a good way to get Harry interested– turn the conversation from his problems to hers. I doubt Ron and Hermione ever tried that particular approach. The bathroom similarity struck me as I was writing. Surprised at this turn in the conversation, Harry pulled back and looked at her quizzically. “I don’t even walk by it if I can help it. I just keep thinking about those people lying Petrified in the Hospital Wing—Colin, Justin, Penelope, Hermione—and I did it all.”

“That’s ridiculous,” said Harry. “You weren’t in control, it was Voldemort. He did it all.”

I really wanted it to be Harry that says the very thing he needs to hear– so that he can realize how it applies to his own situation.

“He may have taken me over, but I let him. I wrote in that diary. I was stupid. I trusted him.”

“Ginny, it’s not your fault. Voldemort did it. And he couldn’t have done it if it hadn’t been for Lucius Malfoy. He planted that diary in your Transfiguration book. He planned it all. If you want to blame anyone, blame Voldemort—or Mr. Malfoy. Don’t blame yourself.” I
didn’t really want to have Harry call Lucius Malfoy “Mr.”– it almost seems too respectful. But he couldn’t say just “Malfoy,” because that always refers to Draco, and he used Lucius Malfoy just before, and I didn’t want to be repetitive, so “Mr.” it was.

“I don’t,” Ginny replied quietly. “Well, I did at first. It took a while, but I realized that I didn’t have any control over what happened. And neither did you.” Harry flinched, but Ginny went on. “I just wanted you to look at a similar situation. It’s not your fault that Sirius was captured. It’s not your fault that my family has been threatened.” Obviously, I invented a bit of history here. She looked him straight in the eye so he
would be sure to understand. “And it’s not your fault that Cedric died. It was Voldemort”—she said the name with great effort—“who captured Sirius. It was Voldemort who threatened my family. And it was Voldemort who killed Cedric. It’s not your fault any more than it was my fault that Hermione was Petrified. If there had been no Harry Potter, all those things might still have happened. For that matter, it probably would have been a lot worse—because Voldemort would have been around for the last fifteen years, too, instead of just the last year and a half.” A bit of an “It’s a Wonderful Life” moment here.

Ginny watched Harry’s reaction to her words before going on. She liked what she saw. Instead of the deadness she had seen in his eyes, she saw a glimmer of—hope? Peace? Some of both? I didn’t want the transformation to be *too* rapid, but I did want it to have some immediate consequences. Now it was time to complete the idea, and fulfill a promise she made to herself four years ago.

“One thing is certain: if there had been no Harry Potter, I wouldn’t be here right now. Because you saved my life, Harry. You went into the Chamber
of Secrets all by yourself; you fought and killed a Basilisk with nothing more than a sword, the Sorting Hat, and a Phoenix. You defeated Lord Voldemort again, and this time you were more than just a baby who didn’t know what he was doing; you were a twelve-year-old boy who cared more about the life
of his best friend’s baby sister—who had embarrassed him at every turn for the last year—than he did about his own life. Every time you think to yourself that Cedric’s death was your fault, remember me. Remember that I’m still here because of you—and that I’m eternally grateful to you for that. I’ve wanted
to tell you thank you for a long time, but I’ve never had the chance—until now.” I feel like Harry really came into his own as a hero in CoS, for all the reasons listed above. This was something he did on his own, without help (other than what the Fawkes, but Harry still had to be incredibly pro-active, even with that help), and with the purest motives. Harry realizes that he saved Ginny’s life, but he doesn’t realize what that *means.* It’s always bothered me that Ginny never said thank you to Harry– she hasn’t had the chance, I suppose. So I gave her the chance.

Harry was looking at her very strangely. It was as if he didn’t know what to believe. He had spent so much time blaming himself, it was hard for him to let go of the guilt. And yet, she could tell that he wanted to believe her—wanted with all his heart to believe her. He gazed into her eyes for a long time, as if studying what he saw there. Ginny hoped that all the gratitude she felt—the certainty that he was blameless in what was going on—her belief in him and his abilities—that they were all reflected there, and that he could gather strength from her gaze. Finally, he opened his mouth to speak.

“Well. I wanted a different perspective, and I got one. Hermione has never said that.” How do you go on after such an intense moment? Humor seems to be the easiest thing for anyone. Harry grinned somewhat sheepishly. Ginny took the fact that Harry could speak lightly after such a conversation meant that she had helped—that he felt at least a little better. Suddenly serious again, Harry looked at her. “Thank you,” he murmured. “With all that’s been happening, I almost forgot. No. I did forget. I think I’m going to go back to my dormitory to think for a while. Will you walk with me?”

Ginny nodded, and Harry helped her up. As they walked, Ginny gathered her courage. “Harry, I hope this won’t be a one-time occurrence.Gah. More bad dialogue. Sorry, this was my first fanfic. Anytime you want to talk, I’m here. Anytime you just want to sit in silence with someone beside you, I’m here. And anytime Ron and Hermione go off for a bit of private snogging, I’m here.” She smiled when Harry laughed. It came more easily than it would have half an hour ago. “I want to be your friend, Harry. Will you let me?”

“You can bet on it,” Harry replied, then grinned again. “Just don’t place the bet with Ludo Bagman.” Ginny laughed, and Harry laughed with her. This time, there was no bitterness, no cynical note. She knew that he hadn’t fully recovered yet—that would take time, and lots of it. But it was a start.

Finally, they reached the common room. Ginny said “See you later,” and started toward the girls’ staircase. Just as she reached the foot of the stairs, she
heard her name.

“Ginny.”

She turned and looked at Harry, who was at the foot of his own stairs. “You’re welcome.”

“And so are you, Harry. You’re welcome, too.” They smiled at one another, then turned away. As Ginny walked up the stairs, the smile widened. Things were definitely looking up, for both herself and Harry.

I had a hard time figuring out how to end this. Then I realized that while Ginny had said thanks, Harry never
said “you’re welcome.” It was the final piece, the acknowledgement that yes, he had done something pretty extraordinary.

In retrospect, I should have ended the fic here. A nice one-shot, showcasing my “Ginny shares a special bond with Harry” theory, but not necessarily romantic. But I was determined to have them get together. Another option would be to make the fic longer, but my plot ideas were thin– I don’t think I could have stretched this story much more than I did.

Instead, I wrote the ending chapter, which skips all the way to the end of Harry’s 7th year. After reading it I realized that it was just too big of a jump, and we didn’t get to see their friendship progress. So I added Section 4.

Section Four: Count Me In

If you need someone to count on, count me in
 Someone you can rely on through thick and thin
 When you start to count the ones that you might ever doubt
 If you think of counting me, count me out

When you count the ones that want you, count me too
 And if I’m not first on your list, count me blue
 Just be sure you count on me, and when the countin’s through
 Count me madly in love with you
 —Glen D. Hardin

I had a hard time coming up with a song for this section. It was a last-minute add on, so I’d already picked all the other songs. I wanted one that conveyed the idea of friendship, of wanting to be helpful, but of wanting something more as well. I’m very glad I remembered this song from Gary Lewis and the Playboys.

“Get off it, Malfoy.” Harry’s voice, shaking with anger, carried through the corridors. Oh-oh, Ginny thought, as she fought her way through
the crowd.

“Oh, is Potter the Prefect going to take away some points?” Malfoy’s drawling voice was dripping with contempt. “You know you can’t make it stick—I’ll
just go to Snape, and he’ll give me the points back right away.” Rather a role reversal from what ended up happening, eh? Malfoy’s not a prefect in my AU.

“I can make it stick if I go to Dumbledore—all I have to do is tell him
what you said, and Snape won’t have a leg to stand on.”

“What did I say? I can’t seem to remember saying anything—except that now that your filthy little mudblood girlfriend seems to be permanently attached
to that Muggle-lover Weasley’s hand, you’ve found yourself a nice replacement. So has that pretty red-headed shadow of yours given you any action yet?”
Ginny, still fighting through the crowd, froze. What was she hearing? Malfoy seemed the type to sneer at Harry’s friendship with Ginny, and to make lewd comments in the process.

“Hermione was not my girlfriend, and don’t you ever call her a mudblood again. And if I ever hear another word about Ginny out of that slimy
Slytherin mouth of yours, I might just follow Professor Moody’s example, and hang the consequences. Note that he doesn’t deny that Ginny’s his girlfriend. Heh. Would you like to be a ferret again, Malfoy? Just say the words.” I’m not sure I showed Harry’s anger well enough here. Once again, dialogue was not my strong point.

Malfoy opened his mouth to respond, but he never had the chance. Professor McGonagall appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. “What’s going on here?” She addressed her question to Harry. “As a seventh year and a school prefect, I’d expected better of you.”

“I was just trying to discipline Malfoy, Professor. He was calling students ‘mudblood’ again.”

McGonagall’s face contorted with anger. Heh. Malfoy’s in trouble now! She turned to Malfoy, fuming. “Mr.
Malfoy, you know perfectly well that Professor Dumbledore has outlawed the use of that word. Twenty points from Slytherin, and if it happens again, it
will be detention. Now, off with you.”

Malfoy turned and stalked away, obviously unrepentant. The crowd began to disperse, and Ginny walked toward Harry, whose face was still red with
fury. When he saw Ginny, his expression changed to one of concern. “Ginny! Did-did you hear that?”

“Yes, I did. Thanks for standing up for me, Harry.”

“I—it was nothing, Ginny. Malfoy loves to attack my friends—it’s the only thing that makes me angry anymore.”

“He’s—he’s said stuff like that before?” Ginny was startled. Ginny decided to be surprised rather than angry here. *I* would have been angry, or embarrased at the least.

“Well, yeah.” Harry looked a bit sheepish. “Actually, that was pretty tame—if McGonagall hadn’t come along—well, let’s just say I’m glad she did. It wouldn’t do for you to hear some of the things he’s said about you.” Malfoy’s such a git. Luckily I was able to give the impression that Malfoy’s said lots of incredibly dirty and insulting things about Ginny without actually having to write them. Harry looked
angry again. “Malfoy’s lucky he’s still here—Ron’s just about strangled him several times—for your sake, and Hermione’s.”

“But why? Anyone can see that we’re just friends—good friends, yes, but only friends, like we’ve been for the past year.” *sigh* Poor Ginny, having to convince people(including Harry) that they’re just friends when all she wants is to be more than friends. I’ve been there. It sucks.

“I don’t think Malfoy knows what it means to be friends with a girl. To him, girls are only good for one thing, and—well, let’s just say that talking
isn’t it.”

Now Ginny was angry. Once again, Ginny decided this, not me. I think she was more upset about Malfoy’s view on women in general than on her in particular– that much, at least, was expected. “Why that slimy little git—why didn’t you turn him into a ferret? If you don’t, I will, next time I see him—”

Harry interrupted her. “No, Ginny, don’t. This isn’t your fight.” Harry’s so noble.

“He just insulted me, didn’t he? I’d say that makes it my fight.”

“No, Ginny. We all decided—Ron, Hermione, and me—that Malfoy will get what he deserves someday. I”ve threatened to curse him a million times—but
I haven’t done it since fifth year. Harry’s decided not to sink to his level. Good idea, I think. It would just make him nastier. One day, we’ll figure out a way to really get him—but not right now. Okay?” I thought about including a way to “really get” Malfoy in the story, but what happens to him at the end is good enough, and the Trio are barely involved in that.

Ginny took a deep breath. “Okay, Harry. Just make sure that when he gets it, he really gets it—for me, for Hermione, for Ron, and for every girl on the planet.”

“Don’t worry about that, Ginny. Now, you’d better get off to dinner—we’ve got Quidditch practice at seven, remember?” Harry got that maniacal
glare in his eye that he always got when talking about Quidditch lately—ever since he’d been made Captain. He was every bit as fanatical about it as
Oliver Wood—Ginny figured it came with the position. If Harry does get made Quidditch captain, which I’d like to see–it would give him something to take his mind off everything else–I think he’d be an absolute nut about it. She’d been a Chaser on the team for the last two years—ever since Katie, Angelina, Alicia, Fred, and George had all left the team in one fell swoop. This was before we found out that Katie is a year younger than Fred and George. Harry had been startled that she was any good—although he should have known. She did have six older brothers, after all, and she’d been dragged into playing more games than she could count. All that practice had done her good—she was now the best Chaser on the team, and with Ron as Keeper, Gryffindor had another Quidditch Cup victory the year before. At least I got it right that Ginny was a good Quidditch player. She’s going to be Chaser in book 6, I’m sure of it. Fred and George had even bought her a used Nimbus 2001 for Christmas, to celebrate another Quidditch player in the family. They had already won their first match, against Ravenclaw—who were considerably worse after losing Cho Chang as Seeker—and their match against Hufflepuff was coming up in a matter of weeks, right before the Christmas Break.

“I’ll be there, Harry, don’t worry.”

“You’d better be.” Harry grinned. “Or it’ll be detention for you!”

“Oh, that is so not fair—you can’t be Prefect and Quidditch Captain at the same time!”

“Who says?” Harry laughed. Ginny liked it when they joked around like this—especially after a confrontation with Malfoy. It helped Harry to forget.

“You, know, it’s a good thing they didn’t make you Head Boy—you’d be insufferable!” Ginny slapped him playfully on the arm as she walked by. “See you at practice!” she called down the hall. This is typical of the type of flirting I did with my guy friends in high
school, right down to the slapping. *sigh* I was so immature.

Harry watched her go with mixed feelings. Bad, bad, bad. The entire rest of the fic is from Ginny’s POV. Except this part. I realized it at the time, but I couldn’t think of any other way to show Harry’s state of mind at this point, which is the whole reason I added this section. We already know how Ginny feels, but we needed some idea of the process Harry went through. Once again, I could have expanded the story, but plot was definitely not my strong point. It took all I had to come up with this. So instead we get sudden switch to Harry’s PoV. Gah. He was sorry that Ginny had heard Malfoy—although when he said that his latest comment was pretty tame, he was telling the truth. But she didn’t need to be exposed to that. Especially since Malfoy probably wouldn’t have said a word if she hadn’t been his friend— There you go again, blaming yourself for everything, Harry thought to himself. Malfoy is Malfoy, and I am Harry—and nothing he does is my fault. Ginny helped me see that. Gratitude for Ginny swept through him, as it had so many times over the past year or so. How he had ever survived without her friendship, he couldn’t figure out. She’d been able to keep him sane—making him see things in a way he simply couldn’t, turning his mind to other things when he got too bogged down with what was going on in the world around him—making him laugh when he felt like nothing could make him laugh ever again. Just knowing she was there to talk to when he needed her gave him so much comfort. And she was there—just like a good friend should be. There was no more awkwardness. It seemed her crush had finally disappeared. Harry found that he missed it somewhat—he was so used to the idea of Ginny being in love with him—but her friendship more than made up for it. If only he could do something for her—show her how much she meant to him— Writing clueless!Harry is rather fun. I tried to make it obvious that he cares for her more than he’s admitting, but that he hasn’t realized it himself yet.

“Oy, Harry! Where’ve you been?” Ron called as he walked towards Harry, with Hermione close behind. “Come on, you’ve got to get some dinner or
you’ll be late for Quidditch!”

Harry had a sudden idea. “Ron, Ginny’s birthday is on the nineteenth, isn’t it?” I borrowed Ginny’s birthday from
my brother. If Ron’s birthday is in March, and Ginny came a little early (which would help explain why she is small), it just  barely works out.

“Yeah,” Ron replied. “She hates that it’s so close to Christmas, ’cause it always seems to get lost. It’ll be even worse this year, since
that’s the day of our match with Hufflepuff.”

“That’s what I was thinking. What d’ya say we give her a surprise party?”

Hermione squealed. “Oh, Harry, what a great idea! After the match, you keep her down on the pitch for a while—that’ll give the rest of us the chance
to get back up to the tower. I’ll go down to the kitchens and talk to Dobby about getting food sent up during the match—he’ll be happy to help, and
besides, I’m Head Girl, they’d do it for me anyway—and Dean can do decorations, and Hogsmeade’s next weekend, so we can get her presents—Oh, I’m so
excited!” Hermione is, after all, a girl. She’d love the idea.

Ron groaned. “Harry, I think you’ve created a monster.” Hermione gave him a look that said she was not amused. But Harry was smiling. This’ll
show her how good of a friend she is. Perfect.

Of course, once I came up with the idea of a birthday part, I had to figure out a present for Harry to give her. Brilliant, Emily.

A week later, however, he was not so happy. He was standing in the middle of Hogsmeade’s main street, utterly unsure of what to do. What on
earth should I get her for her birthday? Hermione’s birthdays had always been easy—candy, or a new book. But Ginny was different. He’d never
gotten her a present before, and he wanted this one to be special—kind of making up for all the birthdays he’d missed. And yet he didn’t want it to be too special—like the necklace Ron had given Hermione this last year. That’d look too much like he liked her—which he did, just not  that way. Hah. That’s what YOU think, Harry, dear. He finally decided it needed to be
something practical, so there couldn’t be any romantic connotations, but something rather—expensive. So she’d be sure to get the point. Harry’s thought process here was very like my own in trying to think of a gift. He wasn’t worried about being able to afford it—the piles of gold in his vault hadn’t noticeably shrunk even in the past seven summers—but he was still at a loss what to get her.

He wandered from store to store, looking at all sorts of things—sterling silver inkwells, dragon-hide book bags, inkable sugar quills (he bought
one of those for himself; the biggest problem with sugar quills was that you couldn’t write with them) Had to get sugar quills in there somewhere, solid gold cauldrons—but he couldn’t find a thing he wanted to get her. Finally, he ended up in Kilmeny’s Kreatures , the local magical pet store. The saleswitch was the owner herself—a tall, dark-haired witch who introduced herself as Kilmeny Bytheway. Ah! My first original character! And NO, this is NOT self-insertion. I’m short and blonde, and I’d never want to own a magical petstore. Bleargh. I love the name Kilmeny (once again, L.M. Montgomery’s fault, my character looks rather like her Kilmeny), and as it’s rather unusual, I though it’d be a good name for a witch. Combined with my unusual last name, it’s a wonderful witchy appelation. I figure she’s a distant relative. Her ancestors may show up in my Albus fic– I just got all sorts of info on my own Bytheway ancestors in England in the mid 1800s. And I know she has a part to play in Jen’s (S. Gwendolyn, Gwendolyn, or susy_gwen– sheesh, Jen, pick one screen name and stick with it) Shadows on the Autumn Moon trilogy. Her part is rather small here, though.

“And don’t give me any ‘By the way, Kilmeny, what’s your last name?’ jokes, because believe me, I’ve heard them all. Indeed. By the time I was, oh, 6 years old. You’re Harry Potter, of course. What can I do for you?” I wanted Kilmeny to be singularly unimpressed with Harry’s fame. She knows who he is, but treats him the same as any other customer. Helps put Harry at ease.

Harry explained his dilemma. Kilmeny nodded as though she understood. I think she understands more than he’s telling her, too. “Practical, yet meaningful. Well, I think I’ve got just the thing for you. Come on over here.”

She led Harry to the back of the store. There, in a beautiful gold cage, was the most beautiful owl he had ever seen. He was a snowy owl, like Hedwig, but much larger. His feathers were so white they almost glowed in the dark, and the way he held his head reminded Harry of a king. And owl seemed like the best neutral gift I could have Harry give. Of course it had to be a snowy owl to match Hedwig. The owl looking like a king wrote itself, *I* certainly didn’t put any thought into it. Of course, then I had to come up with a kingly name for Ginny to give him. Super, Emily. I created more problems for myself with this section . . .

“I’ll take him,” Harry said without hesitation.

“Shh. . .I think they’re coming!”

“Ow, you stepped on my foot!”

“Quiet, or they’ll hear you!”

I have no idea who said these lines. Maybe it’s the 3 missing Gryffindor girls! </sarcasm>

The portrait hole opened, and Harry and Ginny stepped through. Suddenly, the lights flared on, and everyone yelled “Surprise!” Ginny’s mouth
dropped open. A giant banner flashed “Happy Birthday, Ginny!” and the entirety of Gryffindor was there, cheering and clapping. She turned to Harry, still
gaping. “Did you know about this?” Back to Ginny’s POV. Bad, bad, bad. *headdesk*

“Of course he did!” Hermione said, running up and giving her a hug. “It was his idea!” Harry grinned at Ginny, then kissed her on the cheek. Whoo! Harry, you sly dog. Harry did that all by himself. Ginny felt her face go red. “I just wanted to let you know that you mean a lot—so I decided, what better way than to throw you a party? It’s a good thing we won the match, though—I wouldn’t have felt much like partying if we’d lost.”

Ginny still couldn’t speak—she was so flabbergasted. Harry, throw her a surprise party? It was impossible. She must be dreaming. Before she could say anything, Hermione had dragged her over to a table, piled high with presents and food. A large cake, complete with 17 candles and “Happy Birthday
Ginny,” took up most of the room. “Make a wish!” Hermione squealed happily. Colin stood close by, his camera poised. Ginny thought briefly, then took a
deep breath and blew out the candles. Everyone clapped and cheered as they all went out in one breath.

The rest of the night passed in something of a blur. She got so many presents, she didn’t know where she’d put them all—a Muggle book called Pride and Prejudice from Hermione (“It’s my favorite book—I’ve bewitched it to read itself to you.” I know I’m not the only person to make P&P Hermione’s favortie book, but I couldn’t help myself. My reasoning was that Hermione’s mother is a Muggle, and obviously well-educated. I’m sure she’s given up the hope of sharing much of her life with her daughter now– it’s doubtful Hermione will ever go to University, for example– so she shared her love of Austen with her instead.Ginny doesn’t know it, but not only does the book read itself to her, but it does it in the voices of the actors from the BBC/A&E miniseries. Heh.)—a photo album from Colin, full of wizard pictures  of herself and her friends—a box full of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes  products that Fred and George had sent in—a pair of pretty barrettes from Parvati Patil—a box of caramel pecan fudge from Ron Yum. My favorite kind.—even a pair of socks from Dumbledore, which he had Dobby knit—one with a pattern of broomsticks, the other with yellow stars. Harry, for some odd reason, smiled at that present. She thought she heard him mutter “You can never have enough socks” under his breath, but she didn’t understand that at all. I decided that I wanted Dumbledore to give her something– I have the idea that he’s rather attached to her since her experience in first year– and socks was the most likely conclusion. As to what the patterns would be, I had to give that rather a lot of thought. I finally decided on broomsticks for Quidditch, and stars because Astronomy was her best subject.

Late that night, after everyone else had gone to bed, Harry, Ron, and Hermione helped Ginny clean up. She sighed happily. “This has been my best
birthday ever.”

“It’s not over yet!” Harry grinned. “You probably didn’t notice, but I haven’t given you my present yet.”

“I though the party was your present,” Ginny replied. A reasonable assumption.

“Nope—I just wanted to wait until everyone else had gone. Sit down, and I’ll go get it.”

Ginny sat as Harry ran up to his dormitory. She heard him come down the stairs, then pause at the bottom of the stairs. “Close your eyes!” he
yelled through the door. I don’t know if there’s a door to the dormitory stairs, but I decided to make one. So there. Obediently, Ginny closed them. She waited as Harry walked toward her. She could feel that he was near her, but she didn’t open her eyes.

“Alright. Open them.”

Ginny did—and gasped. A beautiful, snowy white owl was held out in front of her, a bow attached to the top of its cage. Kilmeny tied the bow. I don’t think Harry could have managed it.

“Oh, Harry—he’s beautiful—but, Harry, it’s too much—you shouldn’t have—”

“Just think of it as 6 years of back birthday presents—besides, I have ulterior motives. Errol’s not going to last forever, Comma splice. Oops. Pigwidgeon is too small to carry big packages, and I expect lots of letters from the Weasley household in the future. Besides, Hagrid bought Hedwig for my birthday. It’s about time I passed on the favor. So, what are you going to name him?”

Ginny looked closely at her new owl. He looked so regal—like a king.

“I’m going to name him Rex.”

After much, much, MUCH searching, that’s what I decided on. I’ve probably been to every baby name site on the internet.

I’m still not sure if this section was entirely successful in what I wanted it to do, but it’s better than
skipping straight from section 3 to section 5. Gah.

Hee. That was fun. Makes me want to go BAX and revise it, though. Majorly. Oh, well. It is what it is.

Now, to WORX.