Fic ~ Thunder & Lightning
Title: Thunder & Lightning
Chapter: 1 ~ July 31, 1997
Word Count: 3,667
Characters/Pairings: Harry, Ginny, OFC, Lupin, Ron, Hermione, Harry/Ginny
Rating: PG-13, language
Disclaimer: JKR owns, no profit, etc., etc., etc.
Summary: As Harry and his friends begin their last year at Hogwarts the calm before the storm is beginning to end. The Order of the Phoenix struggles as Ginny grows into her role as the next Guardian.
OK, here's the beginning of Part 2 of my Storm Warning Trilogy. For newcomers I'll repeat that Storm Warning is AU. I started writing the first fic in the trilogy, Storm Clouds, before OOTP was released in 2005. Sirius is alive and Tonks and Luna don't exist. Ginny never dated Michael or Dean, although she does play Quidditch (Beater).
Canon ships (H/G and R/Hr) are featured, as well as Remus/OFC.
If you haven't been turned off by any of this please read on! :D
Pigwidgeon was better than an alarm clock any day.
The first rosy flush of dawn had barely cleared the hills east of Ottery St. Catchpole when he set off a racket fit to wake the dead. And Harry James Potter, newly minted of-age wizard, cracked one eye open to greet his seventeenth birthday.
He just as quickly snapped it shut when the room he was in began to spin around him. Why had he never noticed before that Chudley Cannons Orange was so bright it could burn your retinas? What kind of spell was it that could turn an entire room into a carousel? And why - WHY?! - was someone playing the bongo drums inside his head?
“Harry?”
Something about the croaking voice was familiar, but Harry didn’t want to consider why. For one thing it made his head throb in time with the aforementioned bongo drums. And for another he was worried that if he actually thought about anything he’d end up remembering how he got in his current state.
“Harry? Is it morning?”
Harry moved his tongue around, trying to ease the dryness of his mouth. “I think it is,” he began, speaking as softly as he could. “I’m not going to try opening my eyes again to check, though.”
“What happened?” the voice asked, and a part of Harry’s brain finally recognized it as belonging to his best friend, Ron Weasley.
Ron. . . .
The name sparked a memory in Harry, and his eyes snapped open and he jackknifed into a sitting position. He held his head to prevent it from falling off and started to think.
Ron. Ron was already seventeen. Ron had qualified for his apparation license just a week ago. Ron had apparated to The Leaky Cauldron after Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had gone to bed the previous night. . . .
Firewhiskey. Ron had brought back two bottles of firewhiskey. An early birthday present from Fred and George, the note attached to one of the bottles had said. And Harry, along with Ron, Hermione and Ginny, had thrown a small, semi-private party in Ron’s bedroom at the top of the house.
The sound of a bottle rolling across the wooden floor made Harry’s head give a particularly nasty throb. He opened one eye and saw that Ron had sat up and swung his legs out of bed. He was picking up a glass bottle with a familiar label on it.
“Ah!” he said, wincing at the sound of his own voice. “That explains the headache.”
“More than adequately, I think,” Harry replied, careful to keep his voice soft. “Do you think Hermione and Ginny feel this bad?”
Ron groaned. “It’ll be my balls on the block if they do.”
“Why yours?” Harry asked. “The firewhiskey was my birthday present, after all.”
“Yeah, but you know how Hermione is,” Ron said, collapsing back onto his pillow. “She’ll figure out how to blame me. You’ll see.”
Harry lay back down, closing his eyes with a grateful sigh. It was far too taxing to think about Hermione and Ginny. He preferred to lie quietly, contemplating the interior surface of his eyelids.
The door of Ron’s bedroom burst open with a crash that shook plaster from the ceiling and jolted Ron out of his bed. With a groan Harry sat up again, grabbing his glasses as he went.
“Honestly, Hermione! I know you’re of age, but you could have opened the door with your hand instead of your wand.”
Despite his headache Harry had to grin at the exasperation in Ginny’s voice. As he slid his glasses on to his nose the two girls framed in the doorway came into focus. One was taller and had a mass of bushy brown hair that was fighting loose from the confinement of a ponytail. The other, smaller girl had shiny, shoulder length red hair and a smattering of freckles across her nose.
Hermione had just drawn breath to argue with Ginny when a groan from Ron drew her attention. She bustled over to where he lay on the floor, tangled in his Chudley Cannons bedspread. After a few moments work Ron’s unmistakable red hair and long nose appeared from the mass of blazing orange. Hermione immediately began berating Ron for having fallen out of bed.
Ginny rolled her eyes and crossed the room to sit at the foot of Harry’s bed. She grinned at him. “What is it with the pair of them? You’d think that after six years of bickering and two years of snogging they’d have worked a few things out!”
Harry faintly returned Ginny’s smile, but he felt a throb in his head at the sound of her voice. “Gin, just do me one favour for the rest of the day.” At her quizzical look he continued. “Keep your voice down. That’s all I ask.”
Ginny grimaced. “I know what you mean,” she said. “Lucky for you, growing up with Fred and George taught me a few things.” She reached into the pocket of her dressing gown and withdrew a small phial of a bright purple potion, which she pressed into Harry’s hand. “Drink it. You’ll feel better, I promise.”
Without a single question Harry took the potion from Ginny and swallowed it in one gulp. Almost instantly his headache began to ease and the dryness in his mouth went away. He didn’t feel one hundred per cent better, but it was a start. At least the bongo drums had stopped. He glanced toward where Ron and Hermione were sitting on the other bed. Ron was holding his head in his hands and moaning quietly, and judging by the look on her face Hermione was lecturing.
Harry looked back at Ginny. “Should we spare some for Ron?” he asked, holding up the phial. There was just enough left for one swallow.
Ginny grinned. “Hell, no!” she replied. “It's his fault we’re in this condition.” She lowered her voice. “For the record, I didn’t give any to Hermione, either.”
“Which probably explains why she’s in such a foul mood.”
At the moment Hermione’s voice sounded shrilly from across the room. “This is all your fault, Ronald Weasley!” Ron winced in pain and fell back on his bed.
“Ginny?”
“Yes, Harry?”
“I think you should at least give some to Hermione.”
“Any particular reason why?”
“Well, we’re due to get our Hogwarts letters today, and I think she might murder Ron if she’s hungover on the day she becomes Head Girl.”
**~**~**~**~**~**
Two hours later the four of them were settled around the kitchen table at the Burrow, carefully eating a simple breakfast of eggs and toast. Mrs. Weasley, in her usual morning exuberance, had offered to make an enormous breakfast, and had looked suspicious when all of them had demurred. The potion may have eased the headache, but Harry still felt a bit nauseous, and didn’t want to risk anything more.
Ginny had relented, and on the way down the stairs had stopped in Fred and George’s old room and grabbed another phial of the hangover cure from their secret stash. Hermione’s mood had immediately improved upon swallowing, and Ron’s mood had significantly improved as soon as Hermione stopped shouting at him. Hermione had even relaxed so far as to slip her hand in Ron’s. This made Harry conceal a grin, but Ginny had simply rolled her eyes and hissed “This was all your idea, remember that!” in Harry’s ear as they proceeded down the stairs.
A large barn owl came through the open door out to the garden and dropped four letters on the table, each bearing the distinctive emerald green ink of the Deputy Headmistress. Ginny’s appeared to be thicker then the others, and with a jolt Harry remembered that she would be getting her O.W.L. results. Her face grew pale when she picked up her letter. She just as quickly set it back down.
“I can’t look yet,” she said with a sheepish grin in response to Harry’s questioning look. “I may be the next Guardian of the Phoenix, but when it comes to school I’m still a wimp.”
Harry gave her knee a reassuring squeeze under the table before opening his own letter. It had all the usual things; Hogwarts Express on September first, Platform 9 ¾ , etc, etc, etc. There were no new books on the supplies list, but he was surprised to see dress robes for fourth year and above. He groaned inwardly. Not another ball!, he thought to himself. I’m still recovering from my first one.
Ginny leaned close to Harry to look at his supplies list, and he caught a brief flash of the unique scent of her shampoo. He felt his face begin to flush. OK, so maybe a ball wouldn’t be so bad this year. At least I know who I’ll ask first.
A choked gasp from across the table interrupted Harry’s train of thought, and he glanced up to see Hermione, her face pale and her eyes wide, crumple the envelope with her name on it in one hand. She was still holding the letter, but her hand was shaking so hard the sound of crinkling parchment was clearly audible. She looked up from the letter and slowly met Harry’s, Ginny’s and Ron’s eyes in sequence.
Then, with no warning, she let out an ear-splitting shriek, jumped on the table and began to dance a jig of her own invention. Harry, Ron and Ginny sat, open-mouthed and dumbfounded as she danced her way from one end of the table and back again. The three were so stunned by Hermione’s uncharacteristic behavior that they didn’t even question why.
“What the. . .?”
Bill stepped out of the fireplace, having just arrived through the secure Floo network. The sound of the files he had cradled in one arm dropping to the floor accompanied his exclamation, and apparently penetrated Hermione’s daze enough to stop her dance. She turned to face Bill and took a deep breath.
“I’M HEAD GIRL!!!!!!!” she shouted at the top of her lungs.
A ringing silence fell after this announcement as Hermione waited for a reaction from those gathered in the kitchen with her. Ginny broke the silence first. “That’s not exactly a surprise, Hermione,” she said, standing and moving to hug her eldest brother. He lifted her off her feet in a bone-crushing hug, causing Ginny to groan out loud. He set her down, gave her a loud, smacking kiss on the cheek, and then turned to Ron.
“You get taller by the day, I think,” he remarked before clasping Ron’s hand and pulling him close in a one-armed hug.
“What are you doing here?” Ron asked. “Dad said something about you coming home from Egypt, but he never said it was definite.”
“I didn’t know for sure until two days ago,” Bill replied. He reached up, and taking Hermione by the waist lifted her down from the table before shaking Harry’s hand. “I figured it’d be a nice surprise.”
“I’ll say,” Ginny spoke up with a grin. “Mum’ll have heart failure when she sees you.”
“Only because my hair is even longer then the last time I was home,” Bill quipped, grinning at the assembled teenagers. He looked at Hermione. “So, Head Girl? Congratulations, Hermione. I’m sure you’ll be great.”
“Thank you, Bill. That means a lot, coming from you.”
Ron put an arm around Hermione’s shoulders and kissed her cheek. “Let’s hope you model yourself on Bill, instead of Percy.”
Harry and Ginny laughed, and Hermione flushed, but a grin slowly spread across her face. “I think I can manage that,” she said.
“So who’s Head Boy?” Harry asked.
Ginny and Bill looked at Ron. His eyes widened and he dove for his latter, ripping the envelope in his haste to get it open. He quickly gave a sigh of relief. “It's not me,” he said, glancing at Hermione and shrugging.
Hermione picked up her letter and quickly scanned the contents. “It's Ernie MacMillan.”
Both Harry and Ron smiled. Ernie MacMillan was a Hufflepuff, and one of the fairest, most even-tempered people either of them had ever met. Even in their second year, when Ernie had been convinced that Harry was guilty of all the attacks against Muggleborn students, he hadn’t been overtly rude or nasty about it. And he had been the first, amongst all of Harry’s fellow students, to apologize after the fact.
“Thank God it's not Malfoy,” Ron said. “I think I might have quit school if that were the case.”
“Well, since his father’s been in Azkaban for almost two years The Malfoy influence is not what it used to be,” Ginny said absently as she picked up her letter again. She turned the envelope around in her hands repeatedly. Everyone’s eyes were on her, but still the letter remained sealed.
Hermione was the first to crack. “Ginny!” she burst out. “Open the letter, already! We want to know how you did on your O.W.L.s!”
Ginny glanced at Harry, who gave her a reassuring nod. With a gusty sigh she broke the seal and pulled three sheets of parchment free. Dropping the welcome letter and the supplies list on the table she went straight to her O.W.L. results. As she read the parchment her face paled and her eyes widened. She looked up and met Harry’s eyes. He removed the letter from her frozen hands and read it himself. After a moment he set the parchment down and hugged Ginny to him.
“Congratulations, Gin. Your results are awesome.”
A gasp startled the pair and they broke apart. Hermione was looking over Ginny’s results. “’Outstanding’ in Potions, Transfiguration, Defense against the Dark Arts, and Arithmancy,” she read aloud. “’Exceeds Expectations’ in Charms, Astronomy and Care of Magical Creatures.” Hermione looked up from the parchment and gave a small smile. “Only ‘Acceptable’ in History of Magic. Morgan won’t like that very much.” She passed the sheet to Ron, who grinned widely when he saw how well his sister had done.
“”Wow, Gin. These results are really amazing.”
Ginny shook her head. “No, they’re not. They’re hellish.”
“What do you mean?” Bill asked as Ron passed the note on to him.
“Read the extra notice at the bottom.”
“Dear Miss Weasley,” Bill began. “Due to the extremely high level of competence displayed in your O.W.L. exams for Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts (a level which so far exceeded the standards of the exam committee that they are considering restructuring the exams, I might add) you have been assigned to bypass your sixth year studies in the above listed subjects and pass directly to seventh year. At the end of the year you will be eligible to take the Transfiguration and DADA N.E.W.T.s a year early. Taking the exams is optional, but attendance in the seventh year classes is compulsory.” Bill laid the parchment on the table. “It's signed by Professor Dumbledore.”
Without another word Ginny pushed her chair back and left the kitchen, heading outside to the garden. Ron made a move as if to stop her, but Hermione caught his arm and held him in his seat.
“What’s the matter with her?” he asked. “This is fantastic! She’ll be able to breeze through her last year in school with those two N.E.W.T.s already over with.”
“Yes, but what about this coming year, Ron?” Hermione said. “It won’t be much of a breeze, will it?”
Ignoring their conversation Harry stood and followed Ginny outside. She wasn’t visible anywhere in the garden, but he knew her well enough by now to deduce were she had gone. He vaulted the fence and headed straight toward what they called the Quidditch Glade.
He found Ginny on the edge of the field, sitting with her back braced against the bole of an oak tree. He hands were clasped together in her lap, her knuckles white against the tan of her legs. Harry sat beside her, his shoulder just brushing against hers. He knew better than to speak; Ginny liked to deal with troubles in her own time.
In this instance he didn’t have very long to wait. With a sigh Ginny leaned her head on Harry’s shoulder. He wrapped one arm around her and tucked her against his side.
“It's not so bad, Gin,” he said. “Unless you don’t want to have a couple of classes with Ron, Hermione and I.”
Ginny laughed quietly. “It's not that,” she said. “That part actually sounds like fun. It's just. . .” Her voice trailed off, but Harry had a pretty good idea what was bothering her.
“You’re wondering what it was that earned you those great results, aren’t you? You’re worried that it was more the Order of the Phoenix as opposed to your own knowledge and abilities.” Ginny nodded against him and sniffed slightly. Harry shifted so that he could lift her face and meet her eyes.
“Guinevere Weasley,” he began, using his best, stern teacher’s voice. The effect was somewhat spoiled by the smile on his face, he was sure. “Never doubt yourself, or your abilities. Those O.W.L.s are all yours. They don’t belong to the Order and they don’t belong to any prior Guardian.” He leaned in until the tips of their noses touched. “It's all you, Gin.”
“But. . .”
“No buts. You, Ginny. Never forget that.” Harry pulled away slightly. “I’m not going to rehash every lecture Morgan has ever given you. . .”
“Thank God,” Ginny mumbled.
Harry smiled. “However, I am going to remind you of something she has said on countless occasions. You aren’t an extremely powerful witch because you’re the Guardian of the Phoenix, Gin. You became the Guardian because you’re an extremely powerful witch.”
Ginny sighed and brushed a tear from her cheek. “I know. I guess I just don’t want to leave my friends behind at school, even for only two classes.”
Harry pulled away from her. “Your friends?” he exclaimed in mock indignation. “What am I, chopped liver?”
Ginny thought for a moment. “No, not chopped liver.” She waited a beat. “More like chipped beef.”
Harry wasn’t certain he heard her correctly, so he didn’t react at first. But then Ginny stifled a giggle and he caught the mischievous glint in her eyes. He shot her a glare, which caused her to dissolve in laughter.
Harry pulled his wand from the pocket where he habitually stored it. “You know what’s nice about finally being of age?” He didn’t give Ginny time to answer. “I could hit you with a tickling charm right now and not have to deal with the Improper Use of Magic office.”
Ginny stopped laughing and withdrew away from him. You wouldn’t.”
Harry leaned closer, waggling his wand before her eyes. “Wouldn’t I?”
“Harry. . . .”
Before she could say another word Harry tossed his wand away and began tickling Ginny the old-fashioned way. She screeched in surprise and tried to wriggle free of his grip, but he only intensified his efforts. Ginny tried to roll away, but Harry’s grip was tight enough that he went with her. Their clothes would be covered in grass stains when they returned to the Burrow, but Harry didn’t care about the inevitable awkward questions. He didn’t care because Ginny was half-pinned beneath him; every curve of her figure was imprinted on him; her scent was making his head spin. . . .
As soon as Harry stopped tickling her Ginny worked at getting her breath back. It wasn’t easy; Harry had her pinned to the ground, and he was no longer the skinny, under-grown boy that her mother had fretted over five years ago. While no match for the tall, husky form of her brother Charlie, he more than overwhelmed her. And when she caught the look in his eyes it stole what was left of her breath away.
“Harry. . . .”
“Mmmmmm?” Harry lowered his face until their noses touched.
His hair tickled her cheek, and Ginny fought the urge to brush it out of his face. “This isn’t a good idea.”
“What isn’t?”
“Whatever it is you’re thinking of doing.”
“I was thinking of kissing you.”
Ginny took a deep breath. “I was afraid of that.” And with a surge of her magic she hit Harry with a jolt that catapulted him away from her.
“What the hell?”
Ginny sat up. “I told you it wasn’t a good idea,” she said, pushing her hair out of her face.
“Why, exactly?”
“Because she could sense that I was nearby.”
Harry sprang to his feet to confront his aunt. Morgan stood nearby, a mischievous smile playing about her lips. She took in the disheveled appearance of both teenagers and raised one eyebrow. Harry reached out a hand and helped Ginny rise to her feet. Morgan could not fail to notice that he didn’t release her hand once she was standing.
“Do you have to do that?” Harry asked, a note of peevishness in his voice.
“Do what, exactly?” Morgan queried in return.
“Sneak up on people!”
Morgan grinned. “I passed through the house on my way out here, in full view of Ron, Hermione, Bill, and Molly. I walked directly across this field to where I could see you and Ginny. I’d hardly call that ‘sneaking’”
Harry rolled his eyes as Ginny hid her smile behind one hand. “Anyway, I’m here now and we have work to do,” Morgan said.
“Work to do?” Ginny asked, paling. Harry gave her hand a squeeze before releasing her. Ginny took a step closer to Morgan before the older woman held up a hand to stop her.
“Not you, Ginny.” She crooked a finger at Harry.
“Me?”
“Yes, Harry. You. Have you somehow forgotten what day this is?”
Harry shrugged. “It's my birthday. And. . . .?”
“Your seventeenth birthday, to be exact,” Morgan said. “Its time to join your power to the Order of the Phoenix.”
Chapter: 1 ~ July 31, 1997
Word Count: 3,667
Characters/Pairings: Harry, Ginny, OFC, Lupin, Ron, Hermione, Harry/Ginny
Rating: PG-13, language
Disclaimer: JKR owns, no profit, etc., etc., etc.
Summary: As Harry and his friends begin their last year at Hogwarts the calm before the storm is beginning to end. The Order of the Phoenix struggles as Ginny grows into her role as the next Guardian.
OK, here's the beginning of Part 2 of my Storm Warning Trilogy. For newcomers I'll repeat that Storm Warning is AU. I started writing the first fic in the trilogy, Storm Clouds, before OOTP was released in 2005. Sirius is alive and Tonks and Luna don't exist. Ginny never dated Michael or Dean, although she does play Quidditch (Beater).
Canon ships (H/G and R/Hr) are featured, as well as Remus/OFC.
If you haven't been turned off by any of this please read on! :D
Pigwidgeon was better than an alarm clock any day.
The first rosy flush of dawn had barely cleared the hills east of Ottery St. Catchpole when he set off a racket fit to wake the dead. And Harry James Potter, newly minted of-age wizard, cracked one eye open to greet his seventeenth birthday.
He just as quickly snapped it shut when the room he was in began to spin around him. Why had he never noticed before that Chudley Cannons Orange was so bright it could burn your retinas? What kind of spell was it that could turn an entire room into a carousel? And why - WHY?! - was someone playing the bongo drums inside his head?
“Harry?”
Something about the croaking voice was familiar, but Harry didn’t want to consider why. For one thing it made his head throb in time with the aforementioned bongo drums. And for another he was worried that if he actually thought about anything he’d end up remembering how he got in his current state.
“Harry? Is it morning?”
Harry moved his tongue around, trying to ease the dryness of his mouth. “I think it is,” he began, speaking as softly as he could. “I’m not going to try opening my eyes again to check, though.”
“What happened?” the voice asked, and a part of Harry’s brain finally recognized it as belonging to his best friend, Ron Weasley.
Ron. . . .
The name sparked a memory in Harry, and his eyes snapped open and he jackknifed into a sitting position. He held his head to prevent it from falling off and started to think.
Ron. Ron was already seventeen. Ron had qualified for his apparation license just a week ago. Ron had apparated to The Leaky Cauldron after Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had gone to bed the previous night. . . .
Firewhiskey. Ron had brought back two bottles of firewhiskey. An early birthday present from Fred and George, the note attached to one of the bottles had said. And Harry, along with Ron, Hermione and Ginny, had thrown a small, semi-private party in Ron’s bedroom at the top of the house.
The sound of a bottle rolling across the wooden floor made Harry’s head give a particularly nasty throb. He opened one eye and saw that Ron had sat up and swung his legs out of bed. He was picking up a glass bottle with a familiar label on it.
“Ah!” he said, wincing at the sound of his own voice. “That explains the headache.”
“More than adequately, I think,” Harry replied, careful to keep his voice soft. “Do you think Hermione and Ginny feel this bad?”
Ron groaned. “It’ll be my balls on the block if they do.”
“Why yours?” Harry asked. “The firewhiskey was my birthday present, after all.”
“Yeah, but you know how Hermione is,” Ron said, collapsing back onto his pillow. “She’ll figure out how to blame me. You’ll see.”
Harry lay back down, closing his eyes with a grateful sigh. It was far too taxing to think about Hermione and Ginny. He preferred to lie quietly, contemplating the interior surface of his eyelids.
The door of Ron’s bedroom burst open with a crash that shook plaster from the ceiling and jolted Ron out of his bed. With a groan Harry sat up again, grabbing his glasses as he went.
“Honestly, Hermione! I know you’re of age, but you could have opened the door with your hand instead of your wand.”
Despite his headache Harry had to grin at the exasperation in Ginny’s voice. As he slid his glasses on to his nose the two girls framed in the doorway came into focus. One was taller and had a mass of bushy brown hair that was fighting loose from the confinement of a ponytail. The other, smaller girl had shiny, shoulder length red hair and a smattering of freckles across her nose.
Hermione had just drawn breath to argue with Ginny when a groan from Ron drew her attention. She bustled over to where he lay on the floor, tangled in his Chudley Cannons bedspread. After a few moments work Ron’s unmistakable red hair and long nose appeared from the mass of blazing orange. Hermione immediately began berating Ron for having fallen out of bed.
Ginny rolled her eyes and crossed the room to sit at the foot of Harry’s bed. She grinned at him. “What is it with the pair of them? You’d think that after six years of bickering and two years of snogging they’d have worked a few things out!”
Harry faintly returned Ginny’s smile, but he felt a throb in his head at the sound of her voice. “Gin, just do me one favour for the rest of the day.” At her quizzical look he continued. “Keep your voice down. That’s all I ask.”
Ginny grimaced. “I know what you mean,” she said. “Lucky for you, growing up with Fred and George taught me a few things.” She reached into the pocket of her dressing gown and withdrew a small phial of a bright purple potion, which she pressed into Harry’s hand. “Drink it. You’ll feel better, I promise.”
Without a single question Harry took the potion from Ginny and swallowed it in one gulp. Almost instantly his headache began to ease and the dryness in his mouth went away. He didn’t feel one hundred per cent better, but it was a start. At least the bongo drums had stopped. He glanced toward where Ron and Hermione were sitting on the other bed. Ron was holding his head in his hands and moaning quietly, and judging by the look on her face Hermione was lecturing.
Harry looked back at Ginny. “Should we spare some for Ron?” he asked, holding up the phial. There was just enough left for one swallow.
Ginny grinned. “Hell, no!” she replied. “It's his fault we’re in this condition.” She lowered her voice. “For the record, I didn’t give any to Hermione, either.”
“Which probably explains why she’s in such a foul mood.”
At the moment Hermione’s voice sounded shrilly from across the room. “This is all your fault, Ronald Weasley!” Ron winced in pain and fell back on his bed.
“Ginny?”
“Yes, Harry?”
“I think you should at least give some to Hermione.”
“Any particular reason why?”
“Well, we’re due to get our Hogwarts letters today, and I think she might murder Ron if she’s hungover on the day she becomes Head Girl.”
**~**~**~**~**~**
Two hours later the four of them were settled around the kitchen table at the Burrow, carefully eating a simple breakfast of eggs and toast. Mrs. Weasley, in her usual morning exuberance, had offered to make an enormous breakfast, and had looked suspicious when all of them had demurred. The potion may have eased the headache, but Harry still felt a bit nauseous, and didn’t want to risk anything more.
Ginny had relented, and on the way down the stairs had stopped in Fred and George’s old room and grabbed another phial of the hangover cure from their secret stash. Hermione’s mood had immediately improved upon swallowing, and Ron’s mood had significantly improved as soon as Hermione stopped shouting at him. Hermione had even relaxed so far as to slip her hand in Ron’s. This made Harry conceal a grin, but Ginny had simply rolled her eyes and hissed “This was all your idea, remember that!” in Harry’s ear as they proceeded down the stairs.
A large barn owl came through the open door out to the garden and dropped four letters on the table, each bearing the distinctive emerald green ink of the Deputy Headmistress. Ginny’s appeared to be thicker then the others, and with a jolt Harry remembered that she would be getting her O.W.L. results. Her face grew pale when she picked up her letter. She just as quickly set it back down.
“I can’t look yet,” she said with a sheepish grin in response to Harry’s questioning look. “I may be the next Guardian of the Phoenix, but when it comes to school I’m still a wimp.”
Harry gave her knee a reassuring squeeze under the table before opening his own letter. It had all the usual things; Hogwarts Express on September first, Platform 9 ¾ , etc, etc, etc. There were no new books on the supplies list, but he was surprised to see dress robes for fourth year and above. He groaned inwardly. Not another ball!, he thought to himself. I’m still recovering from my first one.
Ginny leaned close to Harry to look at his supplies list, and he caught a brief flash of the unique scent of her shampoo. He felt his face begin to flush. OK, so maybe a ball wouldn’t be so bad this year. At least I know who I’ll ask first.
A choked gasp from across the table interrupted Harry’s train of thought, and he glanced up to see Hermione, her face pale and her eyes wide, crumple the envelope with her name on it in one hand. She was still holding the letter, but her hand was shaking so hard the sound of crinkling parchment was clearly audible. She looked up from the letter and slowly met Harry’s, Ginny’s and Ron’s eyes in sequence.
Then, with no warning, she let out an ear-splitting shriek, jumped on the table and began to dance a jig of her own invention. Harry, Ron and Ginny sat, open-mouthed and dumbfounded as she danced her way from one end of the table and back again. The three were so stunned by Hermione’s uncharacteristic behavior that they didn’t even question why.
“What the. . .?”
Bill stepped out of the fireplace, having just arrived through the secure Floo network. The sound of the files he had cradled in one arm dropping to the floor accompanied his exclamation, and apparently penetrated Hermione’s daze enough to stop her dance. She turned to face Bill and took a deep breath.
“I’M HEAD GIRL!!!!!!!” she shouted at the top of her lungs.
A ringing silence fell after this announcement as Hermione waited for a reaction from those gathered in the kitchen with her. Ginny broke the silence first. “That’s not exactly a surprise, Hermione,” she said, standing and moving to hug her eldest brother. He lifted her off her feet in a bone-crushing hug, causing Ginny to groan out loud. He set her down, gave her a loud, smacking kiss on the cheek, and then turned to Ron.
“You get taller by the day, I think,” he remarked before clasping Ron’s hand and pulling him close in a one-armed hug.
“What are you doing here?” Ron asked. “Dad said something about you coming home from Egypt, but he never said it was definite.”
“I didn’t know for sure until two days ago,” Bill replied. He reached up, and taking Hermione by the waist lifted her down from the table before shaking Harry’s hand. “I figured it’d be a nice surprise.”
“I’ll say,” Ginny spoke up with a grin. “Mum’ll have heart failure when she sees you.”
“Only because my hair is even longer then the last time I was home,” Bill quipped, grinning at the assembled teenagers. He looked at Hermione. “So, Head Girl? Congratulations, Hermione. I’m sure you’ll be great.”
“Thank you, Bill. That means a lot, coming from you.”
Ron put an arm around Hermione’s shoulders and kissed her cheek. “Let’s hope you model yourself on Bill, instead of Percy.”
Harry and Ginny laughed, and Hermione flushed, but a grin slowly spread across her face. “I think I can manage that,” she said.
“So who’s Head Boy?” Harry asked.
Ginny and Bill looked at Ron. His eyes widened and he dove for his latter, ripping the envelope in his haste to get it open. He quickly gave a sigh of relief. “It's not me,” he said, glancing at Hermione and shrugging.
Hermione picked up her letter and quickly scanned the contents. “It's Ernie MacMillan.”
Both Harry and Ron smiled. Ernie MacMillan was a Hufflepuff, and one of the fairest, most even-tempered people either of them had ever met. Even in their second year, when Ernie had been convinced that Harry was guilty of all the attacks against Muggleborn students, he hadn’t been overtly rude or nasty about it. And he had been the first, amongst all of Harry’s fellow students, to apologize after the fact.
“Thank God it's not Malfoy,” Ron said. “I think I might have quit school if that were the case.”
“Well, since his father’s been in Azkaban for almost two years The Malfoy influence is not what it used to be,” Ginny said absently as she picked up her letter again. She turned the envelope around in her hands repeatedly. Everyone’s eyes were on her, but still the letter remained sealed.
Hermione was the first to crack. “Ginny!” she burst out. “Open the letter, already! We want to know how you did on your O.W.L.s!”
Ginny glanced at Harry, who gave her a reassuring nod. With a gusty sigh she broke the seal and pulled three sheets of parchment free. Dropping the welcome letter and the supplies list on the table she went straight to her O.W.L. results. As she read the parchment her face paled and her eyes widened. She looked up and met Harry’s eyes. He removed the letter from her frozen hands and read it himself. After a moment he set the parchment down and hugged Ginny to him.
“Congratulations, Gin. Your results are awesome.”
A gasp startled the pair and they broke apart. Hermione was looking over Ginny’s results. “’Outstanding’ in Potions, Transfiguration, Defense against the Dark Arts, and Arithmancy,” she read aloud. “’Exceeds Expectations’ in Charms, Astronomy and Care of Magical Creatures.” Hermione looked up from the parchment and gave a small smile. “Only ‘Acceptable’ in History of Magic. Morgan won’t like that very much.” She passed the sheet to Ron, who grinned widely when he saw how well his sister had done.
“”Wow, Gin. These results are really amazing.”
Ginny shook her head. “No, they’re not. They’re hellish.”
“What do you mean?” Bill asked as Ron passed the note on to him.
“Read the extra notice at the bottom.”
“Dear Miss Weasley,” Bill began. “Due to the extremely high level of competence displayed in your O.W.L. exams for Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts (a level which so far exceeded the standards of the exam committee that they are considering restructuring the exams, I might add) you have been assigned to bypass your sixth year studies in the above listed subjects and pass directly to seventh year. At the end of the year you will be eligible to take the Transfiguration and DADA N.E.W.T.s a year early. Taking the exams is optional, but attendance in the seventh year classes is compulsory.” Bill laid the parchment on the table. “It's signed by Professor Dumbledore.”
Without another word Ginny pushed her chair back and left the kitchen, heading outside to the garden. Ron made a move as if to stop her, but Hermione caught his arm and held him in his seat.
“What’s the matter with her?” he asked. “This is fantastic! She’ll be able to breeze through her last year in school with those two N.E.W.T.s already over with.”
“Yes, but what about this coming year, Ron?” Hermione said. “It won’t be much of a breeze, will it?”
Ignoring their conversation Harry stood and followed Ginny outside. She wasn’t visible anywhere in the garden, but he knew her well enough by now to deduce were she had gone. He vaulted the fence and headed straight toward what they called the Quidditch Glade.
He found Ginny on the edge of the field, sitting with her back braced against the bole of an oak tree. He hands were clasped together in her lap, her knuckles white against the tan of her legs. Harry sat beside her, his shoulder just brushing against hers. He knew better than to speak; Ginny liked to deal with troubles in her own time.
In this instance he didn’t have very long to wait. With a sigh Ginny leaned her head on Harry’s shoulder. He wrapped one arm around her and tucked her against his side.
“It's not so bad, Gin,” he said. “Unless you don’t want to have a couple of classes with Ron, Hermione and I.”
Ginny laughed quietly. “It's not that,” she said. “That part actually sounds like fun. It's just. . .” Her voice trailed off, but Harry had a pretty good idea what was bothering her.
“You’re wondering what it was that earned you those great results, aren’t you? You’re worried that it was more the Order of the Phoenix as opposed to your own knowledge and abilities.” Ginny nodded against him and sniffed slightly. Harry shifted so that he could lift her face and meet her eyes.
“Guinevere Weasley,” he began, using his best, stern teacher’s voice. The effect was somewhat spoiled by the smile on his face, he was sure. “Never doubt yourself, or your abilities. Those O.W.L.s are all yours. They don’t belong to the Order and they don’t belong to any prior Guardian.” He leaned in until the tips of their noses touched. “It's all you, Gin.”
“But. . .”
“No buts. You, Ginny. Never forget that.” Harry pulled away slightly. “I’m not going to rehash every lecture Morgan has ever given you. . .”
“Thank God,” Ginny mumbled.
Harry smiled. “However, I am going to remind you of something she has said on countless occasions. You aren’t an extremely powerful witch because you’re the Guardian of the Phoenix, Gin. You became the Guardian because you’re an extremely powerful witch.”
Ginny sighed and brushed a tear from her cheek. “I know. I guess I just don’t want to leave my friends behind at school, even for only two classes.”
Harry pulled away from her. “Your friends?” he exclaimed in mock indignation. “What am I, chopped liver?”
Ginny thought for a moment. “No, not chopped liver.” She waited a beat. “More like chipped beef.”
Harry wasn’t certain he heard her correctly, so he didn’t react at first. But then Ginny stifled a giggle and he caught the mischievous glint in her eyes. He shot her a glare, which caused her to dissolve in laughter.
Harry pulled his wand from the pocket where he habitually stored it. “You know what’s nice about finally being of age?” He didn’t give Ginny time to answer. “I could hit you with a tickling charm right now and not have to deal with the Improper Use of Magic office.”
Ginny stopped laughing and withdrew away from him. You wouldn’t.”
Harry leaned closer, waggling his wand before her eyes. “Wouldn’t I?”
“Harry. . . .”
Before she could say another word Harry tossed his wand away and began tickling Ginny the old-fashioned way. She screeched in surprise and tried to wriggle free of his grip, but he only intensified his efforts. Ginny tried to roll away, but Harry’s grip was tight enough that he went with her. Their clothes would be covered in grass stains when they returned to the Burrow, but Harry didn’t care about the inevitable awkward questions. He didn’t care because Ginny was half-pinned beneath him; every curve of her figure was imprinted on him; her scent was making his head spin. . . .
As soon as Harry stopped tickling her Ginny worked at getting her breath back. It wasn’t easy; Harry had her pinned to the ground, and he was no longer the skinny, under-grown boy that her mother had fretted over five years ago. While no match for the tall, husky form of her brother Charlie, he more than overwhelmed her. And when she caught the look in his eyes it stole what was left of her breath away.
“Harry. . . .”
“Mmmmmm?” Harry lowered his face until their noses touched.
His hair tickled her cheek, and Ginny fought the urge to brush it out of his face. “This isn’t a good idea.”
“What isn’t?”
“Whatever it is you’re thinking of doing.”
“I was thinking of kissing you.”
Ginny took a deep breath. “I was afraid of that.” And with a surge of her magic she hit Harry with a jolt that catapulted him away from her.
“What the hell?”
Ginny sat up. “I told you it wasn’t a good idea,” she said, pushing her hair out of her face.
“Why, exactly?”
“Because she could sense that I was nearby.”
Harry sprang to his feet to confront his aunt. Morgan stood nearby, a mischievous smile playing about her lips. She took in the disheveled appearance of both teenagers and raised one eyebrow. Harry reached out a hand and helped Ginny rise to her feet. Morgan could not fail to notice that he didn’t release her hand once she was standing.
“Do you have to do that?” Harry asked, a note of peevishness in his voice.
“Do what, exactly?” Morgan queried in return.
“Sneak up on people!”
Morgan grinned. “I passed through the house on my way out here, in full view of Ron, Hermione, Bill, and Molly. I walked directly across this field to where I could see you and Ginny. I’d hardly call that ‘sneaking’”
Harry rolled his eyes as Ginny hid her smile behind one hand. “Anyway, I’m here now and we have work to do,” Morgan said.
“Work to do?” Ginny asked, paling. Harry gave her hand a squeeze before releasing her. Ginny took a step closer to Morgan before the older woman held up a hand to stop her.
“Not you, Ginny.” She crooked a finger at Harry.
“Me?”
“Yes, Harry. You. Have you somehow forgotten what day this is?”
Harry shrugged. “It's my birthday. And. . . .?”
“Your seventeenth birthday, to be exact,” Morgan said. “Its time to join your power to the Order of the Phoenix.”