Disclaimer:  Large chunks of dialogue belong to Rowling and company, i am merely borrowing them for continuity's sake.
 
 
 

hings weren't going nearly as well as Ginny had hoped.  The trouble was that whenever Harry entered a room or came nearby she inexplicably lost all her nerve and turned a bright shade of red.  For instance, when she had finally worked up the nerve to come out of her room she nearly ran into the boys on the stairs and for some reason she had then shut them out without so much as a hello.  The next day she had knocked her breakfast on the floor and stuck her elbow in the butter when Harry had been nice enough to talk to her.  Simply put, the whole deal was a nightmare and nothing was going right.

It wasn't Harry's fault:  he was so nice and genuine that it was astonishing.  He generally seemed interested in including her had she taken the chance, but Ron thoroughly ignored her and she didn't have the guts to spend any more time in a room with them than she had to.  The trouble was that Ginny had lost her nerve.  She had instantly discovered that her usual methods of manipulation were shallow, nowhere near good enough to capture Harry, and--more than that--she didn't wish to deceive him in any way.  So this begged the question:  how was she supposed to treat him?  Act around him?  Get to know him?  The rule book had effectively been thrown out the window.

The day of the family's trip to Diagon Alley dawned far too early.  It was a Wednesday morning, and as Ginny's birthday and first journey to Hogwarts were not far off, she was understandably excited.  She pulled on the only robes she had that were still big enough for her and joined the family downstairs.

Ginny didn't much like to travel by Floo Powder.  She was sympathetic towards Harry because he didn't know what he was doing.  But he got away rather quickly, then she followed him... except that when she came out of the fireplace in the Leaky Cauldron Harry wasn't there.  Ron unfolded himself from the green flames, then Mum, and there still wasn't any sign of him.

"Where's Harry?" she asked quietly.  Before she knew what was happening her mother had seized her hand and hurried out of the pub.  As soon as the brick wall gave them admittance she began hurrying down the alley, looking in windows expectantly:

"I can't believe this has happened!" Mum said under her breath, painfully dragging Ginny behind.  "First time and of course he goes a grate too far!"  They were nearly to the end of the street before Ginny let out an exclamation:

"Mum!  He's at Gringotts!"  There Harry stood, filthy and looking put out, a tall man with bushy black hair standing over him and a girl with bushy brown hair standing next to him, talking excitedly.  Dad and the boys had already seen him.  Mum broke into a sprint, nearly pulling Ginny off her feet.  It didn't take them long to reach the group that were now crowding the steps to the bank.

"Oh, Harry," Mum gasped for air as they slid to a halt, "oh my dear, you could have been anywhere!"  She was already brushing Harry off, fawning over him needlessly, puffing as she tried to catch her breath.

The tall man--who was almost certainly the Hagrid she had heard so much about--was leaving, Dad was fixing Harry's glasses, but Ginny's eyes narrowed on the girl she guessed was Hermione Granger.  Ron hadn't spoken of her much, but they were obviously close to the classmate as Harry and Ron were chatting her up at a frenzied pace, catching up on all that had gone on so far in this summer that was exciting for everyone but her.  She silently followed the Trio into Gringotts, barely noticing Mr. and Mrs. Granger (whom her father was already drilling for information).  It was suddenly painfully obvious to her that the girl before her already had a monopoly on her brother and Harry Potter.  She hadn't expected to feel so hostile towards Hermione, the one who had saved both boys' lives on their adventure down the trapdoor.  It was even more irritating that she was consigned to a trip to the secondhand robe store escorted by Mum while the Trio got to venture out on their own alone.

As usual, Ginny didn't find much to her liking at the secondhand shop.  She kept shoving off Mum's attacks with pink items (she wasn't six anymore, honestly!) and managed to find a few skirts that would fit her along with the corresponding robes.  Blouses and ties, however, were a lost cause, being either stained beyond redemption or singed by wayward spells:  even Mum freely admitted with a consigned sigh that they would just have to buy these items new.

A quick stop for a cauldron was all that was necessary (she would be using Charlies old necessaries otherwise) before they rushed into Ollivanders.  Mum's attitude immedietely changed:  while they had been rushing through the alley at a breakneck speed to get from place to place, here she let out a huge sigh of relief and sat down on a waiting chair.  Ginny stepped further into the cool room, her body tingling with the magic that she could feel about her, and nervously waited for someone to answer the bell that had tinkled when they had come in.

"Good morning," a soft voice pronounced, and as if out of nowhere an old man was suddenly standing before her, his huge watery eyes focused on her intently.  "Ah, the last of the Weasleys, I presume?" he wheezed, his fingers wiggling in anticipation.  He flicked his wand lazily and a tape measure jumped off the counter, instantly going to work measuring her:  "Yes, yes, I've been expecting you."

Ollivander disappeared behind a row of shelves and almost as quickly reappeared before her, a yellowing box in hand, the tape measure going still and returning to the counter, neatly coiled.  He opened the box and presented its contents:  "Elm and dragon heartstring, eight inches."  She took the wand in hand, trying to get a feel for its weight, but Ollivander had already snatched it away.  He disappeared again.

Moments later, another box was before her, blue this time:  "Ebony and unicorn hair..." he pulled it out of her hands before she had a chance to wave it.  This continued at a fevered pitch for half an hour.  Even Mum was starting to gaze at her watch intently.  Ollivander was taking a tremendous amount of time to return this time.  At last he was before her, a faded red box in hand this time, and he said nothing as he presented its contents.  Ginny took the wand.

The first thing she noticed was a tingling in her fingers, then a sudden warmth.  Ginny gripped the wand lightly and moved it in an arc:  gold liquid seemed to pour from the wand, melding itself into the air about her, floated into an arc above her head, and then suddenly culminated in raining stars that dissapated as they hit her face.  Mum was clapping enthusiastically.

Ollivander did not look at her as he carefully wrapped her wand, placing it back in the box.  "Very fine," he pronounced quietly at last. "Oak and phoenix feather, ten and a half inches, excellent for defense:  yes, one of a kind."  Mum's purse was out before she even found her feet, and Ginny carefully tucked the wand into her cloak's pocket.  Her mother led the way back outside, towards Flourish and Blotts, which was packed overflowing.  A sign was over the door:  Book Signing Today!  Mum took Ginny firmly by the hand again, grumbling under her breath:

"Why today?  Already running behind schedule..."  They pressed their way into the store, her mother immediately heading for the Used Schoolbooks section and pulling her selections off the shelves at a frenzied pace, then dumping them into her cauldron.  Ginny's eyes went wide; she tugged on her mother's robes.  "Yes, what is it, dear?" her mother asked distractedly.

"Mum, it's Gilderoy Lockhart!"  Her mother squeaked, then pulled her through the crowds towards the front of the throng.  There was a table set up, and another sign featuring the author's face, smiling handsomely, winking occasionally.  Gilderoy Lockhart suddenly stepped out of the back room to racous applause.  Ginny joined in the clapping eagerly:  she'd never met a celebrity before.

"Oh, there you are," Mum was suddenly saying.  Ginny turned to find Ron standing beside her, Harry and Hermione beyond.  Suddenly someone nearly knocked her over; there was a loud "Oof" from Ron, who had apparently been assaulted, too.  The wizard snarled at her:

"Excuse me, little girl," he said importantly, camera in hand.  "This is for The Daily Prophet..."

"Big deal," Ron retorted.  Harry's look of annoyance froze:  he was staring at Lockhart now, who was staring at him breathlessly.

"It cannot be... Harry Potter?"  Ginny turned to Harry only to be bumped by the photographer again as he lept forward and seized Harry by the robes, pulling him back to the front with him.  Harry looked angry and embarrassed, his face flushing red as Lockhart pulled Harry into a one-sided hug.  "Nice big smile, Harry," Lockhart grinned maniacally:  "Together, you and I rate the front page."  The rude reporter took another shot as they shook hands.  Harry tried to pull away, but Lockhart had his arm around him already.

Ginny's eyes narrowed as the man started to make a speech.  How could they be so rude?  Harry was so noble, he didn't want this attention, he just wanted to be normal Harry.  Why did this man have to showboat when he was already a successful author?  Moments later Harry was staggering towards her, the crowd pressing around him, his arms filled overflowing with the collected works of Gilderoy Lockhart.  Harry tipped the pile into her cauldron:

"You have these," he mumbled angrily.  "I'll buy my own..."

"Bet you loved that, didn't you, Potter?"  A boy with blond hair and a pointed face suddenly emerged from the crowd, anger and loathing written on his features.  He wore brand new Hogwarts robes, the crest of Slytherin clearly displayed on them.  Ginny gathered that this must be Draco Malfoy.  "Famous Harry Potter," sneered Malfoy.  "Can't even go into a bookshop without making the front page."  Ginny stepped forward, enraged:

"Leave him alone, he didn't want all that!"  Couldn't he see how much Harry had hated it?  But the boy clearly didn't care.  The look of loathing on his face suddenly turned to glee:

"Oh look, Potter:  you've got yourself a girlfriend!" he gloated.  Ginny could feel her face flush red, blood pounding in her ears.  Fred and George cracked their knuckles threateningly while Percy rolled his eyes and left the group.  Meanwhile, Ron and Hermione pushed forward, out of the crowd and into their little circle.

"Oh, it's you," Ron said with derision in his voice.  "Bet you're surprised to see Harry here, eh?"

"Not as surprised as I am to see you in a shop, Weasley," Draco scoffed.  "I suppose your parents will go hungry for a month to pay for all those."  Ron was instantly as red as her own face must have been.  He dropped his armful of books into her cauldron, causing her to stagger, but Harry and Hermione restrained him.

"Children, it's mad in here, let's go outside," Dad had abandoned his conversation with the Grangers to intervene; Percy stood at his shoulders looking extremely proud of himself.  Percy was clearly ever the Prefect and was hoping to avoid confrontation.

"Well, well, well... Arthur Weasley," a new voice drawled.  Ginny looked up into the face of another man, finely dressed, with features similar to that of the blond boy before her.  Mr. Malfoy, she presumed.

"Lucious," Dad verified, his voice cold and formal.

"Busy time at the Ministry, I hear," the man said smoothly.  "All those raids... I do hope they're paying you overtime?"  The derision in his voice was unmistakable as he reached into her cauldron, extracting the most tattered book it contained.  "Obviously not," he continued.  "Dear me, what's the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don't even pay you well for it?"

"We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy," Dad returned.

"Clearly," said Mr. Malfoy, his gaze on Hermione, then her parents, "the company you keep, Weasley... and I thought your family could sink no lower..."

Ginny was suddenly pitched sideways as her father had knocked her cauldron out of the way in his rush to get to Mr. Malfoy.  There was a cacophony of noise as the two men exchanged blows.  It was the giant Hagrid who pulled the two men apart at last, Malfoy still clutching her tattered textbook.  The blond man wrenched himself from Hagrid's grip, straightened his robes, and thrust the book under her nose:  "Here, girl, take your book:  it's the best your father can give you."  He slid it into her cauldron, beckoned to his son, and left the shop with an air of superiority.  Ginny wished that her wand had not been boxed up and out of immediete reach as she would have very much liked to see two pompous idiots with boogers flying at their faces.
 
 
 

*     *     *
 
 
 
As soon as they returned home, Harry and Ron disappeared in his room.  Ginny didn't waste any time moping--she had to pack after all--but carried her purchases upstairs and laid them all out on her bed next to the books that Charlie had once used.  She got out her Hogwarts letter and checked the books off one at a time:  the Gilderoy Lockhart collection (courtesy of noble Harry), The Standard Book of Spells (Grade One), A History of Magic, Magical Theory, A Beginners Guide to Transfiguration, One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, Magical Drafts and Potions, and Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.  The Dark Forces:  A Guide to Self-Protection wasn't on the list anymore, so she left it at the head of the bed.

There was a knock at the door, and Dad pushed into the room, a trunk in hand.  "Hello, Pumpkin," he said softly as he set it down next to the bed.  He kissed her on the top of the head.  Ginny could see that his nose was red and swollen where his glasses had broken during his confrontation with Mr. Malfoy.  The spectacles had been repaired, but his injuries remained.

"Still in the broomshed with Mum?" she asked, stacking her books inside the trunk.  Dad nodded glumly before leaving the room.  Ginny picked up a black book that she hadn't noticed a moment ago:  it wasn't on her list.  "Dad..." but he was already gone.  A note fell out of the book with block lettering that was unnaturally perfect:

to rEcord the events of your first year at Hogwarts;

Happy Birthday

your father

So Dad had fixed the Muggle letter writer finally?  Funny, he hadn't mentioned it, but maybe he had wanted to surprise her.  She flipped through the book's pages, pristine white, displaying dates that were five decades old.  Second hand didn't bother her, it was a nice gesture on the part of Dad as Mum had said a wand was so expensive that Ginny didn't need any other gifts or a party.  She set it aside and finished her packing.

It wasn't until after dinner that Ginny picked up the diary again.  There it lay on her pillow, waiting unassumably.  She thumbed through the pages again, still surprised that none were stained, folded, or otherwise molested.  She got out the quill and ink and placed these on the windowsill as was her wont, then plopped down on the bed, opening the book to its first page.

Dear Diary,
What a day!  Gilderoy Lockhart was at Flourish and Blotts and just had to have his picture taken with the famous Harry Potter.  Poor Harry looked absolutely miserable!  Then Mr. Malfoy and Dad got into a fight, which was great, but over way too quickly (I wish Dad could have hexed him good!).

I've just finished packing for Hogwarts and found you with my new school things.  I love my new wand and can't wait to try out some new spells.

I still can't talk to Harry, even if he was nice enough to give me the Lockhart books.  That Malfoy boy actually had the gall to call me his girlfriend!  If only it were true (sigh).

I'm not sure what else to write, so I'll go to bed now, maybe pick you up in the morning.
Ginny

 
 
*     *     *
 
 
 
Ginny effectively forgot about the Diary for several days.  The last lazy days of summer were rushing to an end and it wasn't until the night before her journey to Hogwarts that she even recalled finding the Diary.  She pulled it out from under the bed (where it had fallen with The Dark Forces) and dusted it off.  It was late, and she knew she should try to get some sleep, but she was too excited.  She opened the Diary eagerly, intending to at least write a few words about how she felt now that she was finally going to attend Hogwarts.

Only the Diary turned out to be blank.  Her last entry was gone.  It wasn't that the page had been torn out, the date was still clearly displayed at the top of the page, it was as if the ink on the page had vanished:   she couldn't imagine what could have happened.  She inked her quill and wrote:

Dear Diary,

Ginny gasped:  the words slowly sank into the page and disappeared.  Moments later, new words took their place.

Hello.

Can you keep a secret?

I can.

The words gradually faded, the last two taking the longest.  If Ginny had not just seen this happen she would not have believed it.  Once again the page was empty, as if it had never been touched by a quill, not a scratch, not a blot.  She reinked her quill, heart pounding in her ears:

I can keep any secret.

My name is Tom.  If you tell your secrets to me, I can ensure that no one will ever be able to read them.

Ginny stared down at the Diary, her mouth agape.  A journal with an imperterbable defense system!  She had never hoped.  She could pour out anything that her heart desired to say without fear of the Twins ever being able to read it.  Six words slowly appeared on the page before her:

Tell me more about Harry Potter.