Ginny Weasley
and
The Seventh Year At Hogwarts

Steam vented and whistled, quickly reaching a screech and then trailing off mournfully as the Hogwarts Express pulled into the station. Ginny looked up from her diary, smiling, expecting to hear the familiar bellow, "Right then! First year students! This way, please!" But the silence dragged on after the shriek of the whistle died. She felt a pang of melancholy, but shook it off and snapped the book shut. Then she stood, grabbed her things, and headed for the platform.

Outside, a nervous looking girl bumped into her. "Oh, . . . suh-sorry."

"That's all right," she answered, smiling. "I was nervous too my first year. Scared silly, really."

The mousy looking girl smiled gratefully in return, but then started when a voice barked, "Christy! Get away from her! She's a Gryffindor! They all think they're too good for the rest of us." Ginny looked narrowly at the sneering Slytherin, finally putting a name to the face. Jeanathan Sarasota. "Plus she's a Weasley. They all have that dreadful colour of hair and they all wind up in the Ministry of Magic. Making rules just to keep everybody else as unhappy as they are."

Without thinking Ginny replied, "You know, Jeanathan, I'm surprised they tolerate you at all in Slytherin. One of your parents being a Muggle and all." Then she turned away and walked toward the carts that would take her to Hogwarts. Her heart sank further as a rusty, sour sounding voice called out, "First year students! Line up over here; right smartly now! And none o' yer chatter."

Filch, she thought. Gad! And that poor child is scared enough as is. What must Professor McGonagall have been thinking? It's a wonder Peeves hadn't come along too.

"Ginny! Over here! Come on! You missed a great time! Why'd you want to ride alone, anyway?"

She smiled back at the group of effervescent girls who were her best friends in Gryffindor. "I, . . . just needed to do some thinking, that's all."

"Well, no wonder," Anastasia answered slyly. "With Harry Potter finished school you'll be able to play the field."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Oh, please! I'll have you know that I had the most wonderfullest summer with Harry," she said dreamily. "It was . . . "

A most incredible dance beneath a million million blazing suns.

Lying in his arms among wildflowers another night and watching shooting stars sleeting through the night sky.

Daisy chains.

The two of them chasing gnomes madly around the garden with Ron and Hermione; all four finally collapsing in laughter.

Him seeing her off at platform 9 3/4 with her parents; holding her warmly.

The night they'd made up and went to the treehouse during the storm and --

"Hey! Ginny!"

"What?!" She looked around, startled.

"Ooooooh!" Fiona said. "You've got it bad! You were totally woolgathering. Tell us, is he really that good a kisser?" The rest of the group laughed gaily.

Ginny's blush was almost deep enough to match her hair, but she answered, "You have no idea." Then she changed the subject.

The Great Hall was abuzz with the muted roar of hundreds of excited students. Talk ran the whole gamut from last year's sorting ceremony to Quidditch to NEWTs. And about the changes in the faculty. The doors swung wide open and Madam Hooch led in the first years who looked about themselves agog at the grandeur of the hall, the length of the tables, the myriad floating candles, the enchanted ceiling, and, finally, when she placed it before them, the simple stool with the Sorting Hat waiting upon it. Madam Hooch waited expectantly and then the hat began its song.

Ginny saw one girl scratching her arm nervously and recognized her as Christy. She looked toward the Slytherin table, trying to find Jeanathan. Poor kid, she thought. Stuck in with a mob like that. The hat finished singing and the first name was called, the first student was Sorted, and the cheers began as they always did. Ginny was distracted by Colin Creevy asking her about Harry, but she looked up when Madam Hooch called, "Christina Sarasota!"

She didn't move at first, but then reluctantly stepped forward. When she turned and sat down she looked as if she was going to be sick. And then, unaccountably, Ginny Saw the hat's conversation with Christy. "Ah!" said the hat. "Interesting. Very creative. Very fine mind. Quite the artistic type. Lots of potential in you, isn't there? Yes. HUFFLEPUFF!"

Over the sound of the cheering Ginny heard a faint yell. "What?" She looked over at Slytherin. Jeanathan was standing, staring at Christy, her mouth agape. Ginny saw her say to the students near her "That can't be right!" but Madam Hooch had already given Christy a gentle shove in the direction of the Hufflepuff table. Ginny smiled to herself. Good, she thought. She won't be stuck with that mob after all. And if she's Hufflepuff she can't half as bad as her sister.

When the Sorting was done Headmistress McGonagall stood up. "To the first year students, welcome to Hogwarts School of Wizardy and Witchcraft. You and the second year students kindly keep in mind that you are restricted to the school grounds during the year. And to all students, keep in mind that you are also to keep strictly out of the Forbidden Forest. Under penalty of dying most horribly if you go into it. You new students will be hearing all kinds of fanciful stories about that forest. Don't believe them. They aren't half true enough.

"To you older students, the school is still in the process of recovering from losing so many wonderful teachers last year. The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we are hoping for has yet to arrive, although we do expect him later this evening if the Board of Governors would just get over their prejudices. Also, we do not yet have a new Potions Master. That class will be supervised on a rotating basis for the time being. And now, let the feast -- begin!" She clapped her hands and the empty plates and cups lining the tables were suddenly filled with all manner of edibles. The noise level in the hall increased appreciably.

The next morning Ginny rushed through the hole of the portrait of the Fat Lady. She had slept late, missing breakfast even, and now would be late to class if she didn't hurry. Right in front the portrait was a group of first year girls and one boy looking very lost and confused. "Christy. Hi," Ginny said. One of the other girls' eyes opened wide when she saw who was talking.

"Uh, . . . hello."

"It's okay. You can talk to me. I don't bite. I'm really quite harmless. Gryffindors are actually pretty good people. You get lost on the stairs?"

"Uh, . . . yes. But, . . . well, who are you exactly? Jeanathan doesn't seem to like you very much."

"Well, that's okay, 'cause I don't really like Jeanathan." Christy's face fell. "Oh, but that doesn't mean you and I can't be friends. I mean, Jeanathan's problem is Jeanathan's problem. Not yours. I'm Ginny Weasley, by the way." She stuck out her hand. After a moment the younger girl took it.

"I'm Christina Sarasota. This is Marian Bond, Sasha Werback, Toby Finnigan, Vivian Waffling, and Celeste Portermaine."

When Sasha took Ginny's hand she said, "You're Harry Potter's girlfriend. Some of the other girls think he's so cute and they talk about him a lot. Does he really do all that stuff they say?"

"Uh, well, he is awfully cute and he's a great Quidditch player but I don't know what else they've said about him. We can talk about him later, though. Right now we all have to get to class. Which one's yours?"

"Defense Against the Dark Arts. Do we have to go? They say our teacher is a werewolf and we have to be careful not let him get any spit on us or we'll turn into werewolves too."

"Professor Lupin?! Oh! -- you guys are so lucky! Come on, let's walk this way," she said, turning and leading the group back toward the stairs. "Yes, Professor Lupin is a werewolf but he doesn't bite people either, and I don't think you can become a werewolf just from talking to one. We had him my second year but then people on the Board of Governors chased him away from the school because of his curse. Now if you want somebody cute Professor Lupin is definitely on the list except he's old enough that he should be more properly called distinguished. . . . "

By the time Ginny got the group to the Dark Arts classroom they were laughing and giggling about the story of how Fred and George had given Dudley a four foot long tongue. In the corridor, however, they ran into Jeanathan. "Christy! It's bad enough you have to be a Hufflepuff but do you have to hang out with her, too? What is Mother going to say when she finds out? She'll blame it all on me! She'll say I didn't take good enough care of you. She'll never believe that it's really Her fault," she finished, sniffing at the sight of Ginny.

"My fault?" Ginny said. "Don't be ridiculous. You know very well the Sorting Hat decides."

"Yeah, well, I bet you put some kind of spell on Christy when you bumped into her yesterday and I'm going to complain about it to McGonagall. If you ask me all you Weasleys spend your days at the Ministry of Magic coming up with ways to ensorcell people to put them under your control."

Ginny burst out laughing and Jeanathan looked at her even more sourly, but then a deep male voice interrupted. "That's a very interesting theory, Miss Sarasota." They looked at the teacher standing before them. He continued, chiding them gently, "However, it is class time and you are all out here in the corridor, and unless I miss my guess these young students in particular are supposed to be in my classroom right now and you two should already be in yours."

Ginny and Jeanathan muttered, "Yes, Professor," and moved away while Professor Lupin ushered the first years into the classroom.

Ginny heard him begin his lecture as she walked through the corridor. "Good morning, class. I am Professor Lupin and I am especially qualified to be your Dark Arts teacher as I am afflicted with Lycanthrope. Does anyone know what that is?"

"Oh! Yes, Professor," came Christy's voice. "It means that you are a were creature magically bound to the influence of the moon and cursed to transform at the full moon. But, uhm, people say that you're really a nice person despite that. . . . " Ginny smiled, thinking that Christy would be all right. Then she quickened her pace toward the Potions classroom, wondering who was going to teach that class today.

She was completely unaware of the rat scuttling along the rafters, keeping pace with her and watching her at all times.

That evening she sat on her bed writing a letter to her mother. Her letters to Harry and Hermione were already finished, having been written mostly in class; during Potions, Wizard History, and Charms. When she was done she took the three of them and her book and went to the owlery. Her new owl, Charlemagne, flew down to her. She gave him the three letters and asked him to take them to the Burrow, then she made her way to the astronomy tower. The tower was already occupied by a couple of boys from Ravenclaw who gave her an odd look when she came in, but then turned back to the tome opened before them, whispering furiously. She took advantage of they're ignoring her to quickly and quietly nip up the stairway to the left and into the secret room.

She sat down in the center of the room and opened the diary. Just as with Tom Riddle's diary, the pages were of blank, yellowed parchment; the artificial aging being the result of the enchantments placed upon the book. The first few pages of the book were illuminated, mostly with mystic symbols and potent glyphs, and there was a title page.

She took her quill in hand, opened the book to the first blank page, and began to write. As the quill scratched its way across the page leaving chicken tracks of ink, the lines of black rested but a moment upon the surface and then seemed to sink into the parchment. With the outpouring of ink there flowed an outpouring of memory and emotion; which were absorbed along with the ink.

A warm hand reached out to clasp mine and his face materialised out of the darkness. He smiled then and kissed me, a brief, flitting touch but filled with breathless warmth. "Come in," he said, closing the door as he pulled me all the way into the room. The door shut behind me with a sound of finality and we stood in complete darkness. His lips fell upon mine again, possessively. I moaned and slid my arms around his waist, holding the roses in one hand as I pressed myself against him. My heart pounded, my breath came quickly. Then he pulled away. "Incendio!" he commanded, and logs burst into flame in the fireplace. I blinked at the sudden brightness, then looked around, amazed.

We were in a beautifully-furnished sitting room. Soft rugs were on the floor and red velvet furnishings were arranged tastefully about the room. In front of the hearth was a small tray with cheese and fruit and a pair of goblets and a bottle of something I could see wasn't pumpkin juice. I looked at Harry in wonder and excitement, feeling an odd sort of aching in my . . . loins.

"This place hasn't been used since Professor Estrella, the former Astronomy witch, lived here with her family. She retired about ten years ago, and it's just been gathering dust all this time. I figured, as long as it wasn't being used-" . . .

And so, Dear Diary, we put this room to use, and such a sweet and delicious time it was for the both of us. The One and Only Time we were to spend here before that monstrous evil intruded into the life we were making for ourselves for the first, last, and most devastating time.

Ginny put the quill into the inkwell, then stood, holding the diary in one hand and with the other flat on the open pages. She breathed deeply of the air, taking in the scents. She peered at the furnishings, following the lines of the chairs and couch, the paintings hanging on the walls, the fine grain of the stones in the fireplace. She remembered the rush of excitement and joy from that night, adding it all to the memories already stored within the tome. And when she was done she gently closed the book and then picked up the quill and inkwell. Then she went to the pile of dust covers and redraped them over the furniture. That done, she went to the door and opened it "Nox!" she commanded with a wave of her wand, and the light went dark. The she went down the stairs and back to her room.

At breakfast the next morning, as she went to the Gryffindor table, a few of the Ravenclaws called to her. "Hey, spook!" "How did you manage to disappear the way you did in the middle of Hogwarts?" "Are you still alive, Weasley, or are you a ghost now, walking through walls?" "Maybe she's a werebat? And she's going to grow up to be an old bat?" That last one drew laughter.

She looked at the Ravenclaws as if they were odd, but didn't answer them. Although Nearly Headless Nick suddenly popped up right in front of her. "Hello? What's that they're saying? Are you walking through walls now, Miss Weasley?"

"Oh, no, Sir Nicholas. I most certainly am not!"

"Pity. Such a lovely young woman like yourself might be able to sway the Headless Hunt to my way of thinking, though no doubt you're just as glad you have no such opportunity." He smiled at her before drifting off through the Hufflepuff table.

Colin said to her, "What's all that about?"

"Oh, that's nothing," Peter Wolfe answered, looking up from his birdwatching textbook. "I heard some of them talking when I came in and apparently a couple of them say you disappeared right out of the astronomy tower last night. They had seen you come in and then a second later you weren't there and they hadn't even seen you leave."

"Well of course they hadn't. They were studying Prixatee's Guide to Constellation Placement for Enchantments. They wouldn't have noticed if a dragon had apparated into the room."

"Yeah, but these two guys said they only took their eyes off you for less than a second and that they didn't hear the door open or close after you'd come in."

Ginny laughed. "Oh, they took their eyes off me for more than a second, I just didn't stay to see how long they'd spend whispering about me, that's all." At the staff table, Professor McGonagall made the announcements for the day. When she was done the dishes filled with the food prepared by the house elves in the kitchen.

Colin asked, "So what trick did you pull, anyway?"

"No trick. I went up the stairway on the left side to Professor Estrella's old quarters."

"Who?"

"Professor Estrella. She taught astronomy until she retired eleven years ago. Her quarters are in the very top of the tower, up the stairs to the left."

"There are stairs to the left? Where? I've never seen any."

"Where? On the left, Colin. Didn't I just say?"

"But there are no stairs on the left. I searched the whole observation room one time when I was supposed to be studying constellations." Ginny looked at him as if what he'd said made no sense. "Well, I got bored and started wondering if there wasn't some kind of secret compartment or passageway hidden in the fireplace and then went around the rest of the room."

"And you didn't find the stairway? You couldn't have been looking very hard then."

At that moment a shout went up. "Owls! Daily post!"

Ginny looked at the incoming horde of owls, trying to spot Charlemagne. Then suddenly he was almost on top of her and dropping a parcel of letters and a copy of The Daily Prophet. She hungrily tore open the first letter in the bunch, which turned out to be from Hermione.

Dear, Ginny.

. . . Don't worry about Jeanathan Sarasota. I know that she isn't a very pleasant person, but you really don't have to bother with her, after all . . .

The next was from her mother.

Ginny, dear.

I was so pleased to hear that you got to Hogwarts and settled in okay and I'm looking forward to seeing you at Christmas time.

What? Already?

I do hope that you and I will be able to chat about womanly things. Especially, dear, don't do anything foolish or that you might regret. I really don't want to see you make a mess of yourself. That's the sort of thing I expect from your brothers but you're much more level-headed than them.

She finished the letter feeling increasingly confused, wondering what on earth her mother was talking about.

"Hey," Colin said, rattling the Daily Prophet, "look at this. It says your dad orchestrated a series of five raids last night and they bagged three Death Eaters and sent them to Azkaban."

"Good," she replied. "That's three less for us and three more new ones they'll have to go through the trouble of recruiting."

The other students around them looked at her and she suddenly realized that she might have said too much. "Uh -- "

"Death Eaters? They're recruiting?"

"Shush! Colin, keep your voice down! You idiot! Why not just make an announcement from the staff table, for pity sake!"

"Hey, don't call me an idiot, you're the one -- "

"Yes, and I shouldn't have, but you don't need to go making it worse! Look, we had a dozen Death Eaters apparate into the orchard at the Burrow. Dah threw an absolute fit! He was right bonkers for three days. Anyway, people at the Ministry think they're in a power struggle. Trying to outdo each other to see who'll inherit whatever is left of Vuh -- Voldemort's gang," she said with a shiver, "and continue his work."

This drew them into an intense discussion during the rest of breakfast. So much so that no one really noticed the rat that sat on the back of Peter's chair. And those that did assumed it was someone's familiar. Certainly no one noticed how it seemed to look almost exclusively at Ginny.

The rest of that week and the next went by without incident, but the taunting from both Slytherin and Ravenclaw did not abate. If anything, it increased. On the second Friday evening Ginny went down to Hogsmeade with a group of other students from Gryffindor, but on Saturday she felt as if she wanted to get away from the happy chatter in the common room and the almost endless sniping in the corridors. She took her diary and went up to the astronomy tower, When she got there she reflexively turned to the left and bumped into a blank wall. She looked around, seeing to her relief that the tower was empty, then back at the wall she had walked through on previous occasions to go up the stairs. It was very solid. She tried a few charms and incantations, but to her puzzlement there was no response.

"Well!" she said in exasperation, "that was just like talking to a brick wall." She finally gave up and went to sit by the edge of the open balcony. She opened the diary to the first page, marked July 31, and placed a hand flat on it. Then she thought about that day at the Burrow. There was a flash of mystical energy from the book and she was drawn into it.

Ginny's physical-self looked around the kitchen and she basked in the happiness.

. . . Happy birthday, dear Harry,
Happy birthday to you!

She watched Harry blow out the candles, stuck out her tongue at Fred and George who were joking at her expense. She watched her memory-self out of curiosity. That was how she noticed herself doing something she hadn't known she did.

Ron and Hermione got up at the same time and started clearing the table together. "That's all right, Mom," he said. "We've got it." George grinned widely. "Looks as if you've already got him well trained, Hermione." Ron blushed darkly while the twins laughed. And memory-self Ginny also started to laugh, but then stopped with a far-off look in her eyes. Physical-self Ginny remembered that she'd had a vision then. Ron and Hermione looking down together at their first child. It had elicited a sharp pang of poignancy. "Hermione," she said before the vision had even ended, "Is there something you'd like to tell us?" Hermione blinked. "No. Why?" Memory-self Ginny thought about Hermione's answer, still watching the vision play out, then replied. "Very well, then."

There was a flash of mystical energy from the book as Ginny came to herself with a gasp of realization.

Dumbledore. He'd been a Seer. A True Seer. Just like herself.

Ginny's realization troubled her for the rest of the evening and into the next day.

Had he known? Had he Seen? Was he foretold that Tom Riddle would become Voldemort? She thought about the memory Harry had told her about from Riddle's diary. One she hadn't been shown; when Riddle had confronted Hagrid and implicitly accused him of having opened the Chamber of Secrets. Dumbledore had asked that question to the young Tom Riddle. Had Dumbledore allowed all these events, this evil and misery, to come to pass in foreknowledge? And if not how had he dealt with knowing what might come to pass ? How had he decided on what actions to take and when to take action at all?

At Sunday lunch Headmistress McGonagall stood up to make the announcements. "I would just like to congratulate Ravenclaw for their resounding accomplishment in pulling together an obviously fine Quidditch team. I saw the practice yesterday and there was excellent flying by all players and a great deal of enthusiasm." She paused to let the cheering die down and then the food appeared from the kitchen. Most everyone started in to eat, but Ginny sat there reading a note she had been handed by a Slytherin prefect. It was a summons for her to see the headmistress immediately after lunch.

Later, she approached the entrance to the Headmaster's quarters hesitantly. Seventh year or not, she'd never received such a summons even after Harry had saved her from the Chamber. Now, a Slytherin prefect was standing before the spiral staircase; already extended. "Name!" he demanded.

"Don't be such a git, you know very well who I am and why I'm here."

The prefect smirked. "Doesn't matter. You have to tell me who you are and why you're here anyway. And don't call me a git. That's insubordination to a prefect. If you don't tell me who you are you can't get in."

Ginny thought about that, then said. "Suits me. I don't really want to see the Headmistress, anyway, she wants to see me. I'm perfectly willing to wait until she comes down to look for me and finds out that you won't let me in." Just then the stairs began to rotate widdershins, the whole spiral staircase winding itself into the floor.

The prefect hesitated, then said, "Look, you have to tell me who you are and why you're here. It's not that hard. You Weasleys make enough rules that you expect everybody else to follow."

"That's not true. Strictly speaking my father can only propose a rule but the Ministry has to put it in place and see that it's enforced. And Percy, for all he cranks out rules like an organ-grinder does music, has never had a single one adopted."

She and the prefect stared at each for a few moments and then suddenly Professor Lupin was in the doorway and the staircase stopped level with the floor. "Ah, Miss Weasley. You can go right on up if you like. The Headmistress is free now."

"Thank you, Professor," she said, then quickly brushed past the prefect before he could object. When the stairs stopped winding up at the top Ginny looked around. The office was empty of human life but jammed to the rafters with the clutter of reference volumes, documents, an empty perch for a bird, and up on a book shelf, the Sorting Hat. Ginny paused, but then picked up the hat and put it on.

"Ha!" it exclaimed, waking up. "A Weasley. But you're already sorted. Into Gryffindor. Like all the Weasleys."

"Yes. How come?"

"I put you into that house because it is the one in which you belong. I am never wrong. And you are of the fifth generation to be Sorted into Gryffindor. All of your brothers. Your father, uncles and aunts, grandparents, great-grand-parents -- "

"But what about Christy Sarasota? You put her into Hufflepuff when her sister is Slytherin. Why?"

"Because I am never wrong, and that is where she belongs."

"Could you have been fooled?"

"Fooled? Hardly. I have seen many enchantments, but I do not Sort by what a person is thinking, but by what he believes and what potential he has. Even the Imperius Curse cannot alter who or what a person is, and it is by that I Sort."

Ginny looked up at a sound on the stairs. McGonagall was staring down at her, looking disapproving, as always. Ginny quickly placed the hat back on the shelf. "Uhm, . . . you wanted to see me?"

"Indeed I did. Sit down, please, Miss Weasley." She started down the stairs. "How are you so far this year, young woman?"

"Uh, well, . . . okay, I guess."

"Are you? Your performance so far this year is rather below what we're used to seeing from you. From any Weasley, really. I've spoken to every one of your teachers and they all say that you are distracted in class. You daydream. Write letters home. They sometimes have to speak to you two or three times. You have a book you keep fondling. It's nothing like the diary of Tom Riddle, is it?" she asked, standing over Ginny almost threateningly.

"Oh, no! That's -- my diary."

"Well, its good to keep one. Professor Dumbledore kept his in a bowl. A Pensieve, actually. It's over there," she said, pointing, "in that cabinet. So many of his thoughts and memories of important decisions. I'm tempted to start one of my own. I've used his on a few occasions already. Do you consult yours very often?"

"Uh, just once in a while."

"Hmmmm. Really, Miss Weasley, how are you holding up this year?" she asked again, this time sitting behind her desk. "From everything I've heard from your teachers I'd say that you were homesick, dear, and I don't like the rumours I'm hearing about you from around the school. They're far too thick and numerous for any good."

"Uh, . . . Professor?"

McGonagall answered gently, "You're being teased and taunted rather a lot this year, aren't you, Virginia? All the Gryffindors I've talked to say that you're being singled out and I've had two of your classmates in here already for brawling on your behalf. And it's still only the first week." Ginny looked up in surprise. "Ah, . . . you didn't know that, did you? Well, good. At least you aren't encouraging that sort of thing."

"I -- but -- "

"Now, now, dear, don't fret about it. It's an unfortunate situation but rather understandable in its way. This is the first time in something like eighteen years that we've had only one Weasley in the school at a time. The first time was Bill, of course, but then Charlie came along and he was still here for Percy and then the twins came together before Percy left and they were all here for Ron when he started, but then he passed his NEWTs this past spring and so here you are alone."

"So what?"

"Well, you have your friends and classmates, of course, but you don't have a big brother to look out for you," she said, then continued more quietly, "And most especially you don't have Harry's reputation to protect you either. You're all alone, dear. Just you against the rampaging horde. That's rather a scary thing even if you aren't aware of it consciously.

Ginny bit her lip and hung her head. "It's all right to be afraid of a situation, Virginia. Life can be very frightening sometimes. Half the battle is knowing exactly what the situation is, however. Fear, you see, is born of ignorance. Once you know exactly what you're up against you can face it with your head held high. Even if that is all you can do about it. Even just that is frequently enough, though. Never underestimate the power of simple human dignity to strip your detractors of the ability to bedevil you."

"Yes, Professor."

"What really worries me, though, is how your apprehension is likely to affect your Animagus transformation studies," McGonagall said, and raised at eyebrow at Ginny, who blushed and hung her head, remembering their conversation from July. McGonagall continued, "And your grades. We don't call them Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests for nothing. You'll really need to be on top of your game and you can't put off focusing on those tests until spring. You have to begin right at the start of the year and keep your eyes on that goal the whole time. Well, my door is always open if you'd ever like to come in and talk to me about something, you know."

Ginny smiled lightly. "Thank you."

"Now, is there anything you'd like to tell me?" she asked, looking at Ginny over the tops of her glasses.

"Uh, no."

"All right, off with you then."

"Uh, there is one thing I'd like to ask, though. About Professor Dumbeldore. Uh, because of something I read in the library. Was he a Seer? A True Seer?"

Professor McGonagall sat back in her chair and sighed. "He told me he was. Once. Only once. He never told me about any of his visions, though."

"But -- you weren't romantically involved?"

The Headmistress stared at her before saying, "That is a most impertinent question, my dear, young woman. But to answer it, no. Albus Dumbledore matriculated a good dozen years before I was Sorted and it was another dozen after I matriculated that he came to teach. And then about twenty years after that until I came back to teach. Since then we were never romantically involved. Although we did admire and respect each other very much."

Uhm, pardon me. I guess, . . . uhm, . . . could I use his Pensieve? Because you see I'm . . . uh, . . . having a crisis of conscience and I don't know how to deal with it. I'm hoping there's something in it that will help me to . . . "

"Resolve the ethical dilemma?"

"Yes!" she gushed, just so relieved that the headmistress understood.

"Go ahead, dear, help yourself. I don't think Albus would mind. Just put the bowl back when you're finished and if you have any further questions I'll be upstairs."

"Thank you, Professor. Uh! -- do you know anything about the school's Come and Go Rooms?"

"Professor Dumbledore certainly did. At the Triwizard Tournament he told Professor Karkakof about the time he was wandering around looking for a place to answer a call of nature and he found a roomful of incredibly ornate chamberpots. But he'd never been able to find it since then. He believed that Hogwarts has rooms that only appear when they are needed. Why?"

"Oh, a room has disappeared on me. Professor Estrella's old quarters."

"Indeed? Well, now that you mention it, I haven't seen the stairway to that room since she retired. Perhaps I should look into this phenomenon. Thank you, Miss Weasley." She started up the stairs.

Ginny went to the black cabinet but hesitated to open it. Then, once she had it open, she was reluctant to take out the bowl sitting inside it. The silvery gleam from the swirling substance reflected from her face as she worried about what Professor Dumbledore would think -- would have thought -- about her . . . "impertinence" into going into his mind.

Worse: what will I find out? Do I really want to know? Would he have minded so much that I shouldn't be doing this?

Finally, she took a deep breath, then firmly but gently grasped the bowl, cupping it in her hands. She carried it to the desk very delicately, as if afraid to tip it over and spill out the accumulated memories and wisdom contained within it. She looked into the silvered surface for a few moments, tentatively put out a finger, then pulled it back.

Ginny, you can't see where this thing keeps it brain.

Oh, don't be silly. These are Professor Dumbledore's memories, not Tom Riddle's. This bowl won't be any more malevolent than your own diary. You're just afraid.

With that, she said aloud, "Show me Professor Dumbledore's memories of being a True Seer and what he decided about being one," and boldly put a finger on the surface of the silver energies.

There was a bright flash of light and Ginny was drawn into the bowl.

A scene with a young student in the Gryffindor Head of House quarters. The boy said, "I get these visions sometimes. I see these things. And sometimes they come true." The Head of House, a smaller copy of Winston Churchhill, looked back at him through a cloud of smoke from a long-stemmed pipe.

"You seem to be a Seer, then, my young Master Albus. A difficult thing to be, indeed. It is a great power to have foreknowledge, and with great power comes great responsibility. Especially for Gryffindors. We tend to be compassionate people and want most out of life to help others and make life better for everyone. It is Godfric Gryffindor's greatest legacy to us. But as all great legacies it comes with a price. Most people are resentful of those who seek to help them unasked and if a Seer isn't careful he can become arrogant and manipulative in an effort to keep people from doing the things he has Seen that will cause them pain and complications in their lives. And that is the sort of thing that one would expect more from Slytherins. I do hope that you won't let yourself fall into that trap and disappoint your House, Albus. Not to mention that meddling with the future in an effort to keep it from happening the way one has Seen can cause something much worse to happen instead.

The older man took a contemplative puff on his pipe for a moment. "You should keep such a thing to yourself, by the way. Most people do not understand what Seeing is about, and think that a Seer can look at them and instantly know all of the things they have done for which they should -- or do -- feel guilty."

The scene shifted.

A grown but still youngish Dumbledore in his private flat. "I have been asked to teach Tranfiguration classes at Hogwarts. I have Seen many portentous matters arising from my taking this position. Unfortunately, despite my every effort to See whether or not I should take this path, my own future remains shrouded to me. As always, the Seer is blind to his own folly. Only by focusing on the welfare of the school have I been able to determine that there is a rightness to taking the position. What I can't See is whether or not there is a more right decision to make. This, I suppose, as Head of House Coliphon once said, is so the Seer doesn't become so paralyzed with indecision that he can't do anything at all when the time comes to act.

"Taking the post will allow me to guide the minds of generations of wizards into constructive channels, it will allow me to encourage them actively to realize their potential, but what am I supposed to do if I run into a student who I suddenly See is going to do something truly stupid or wicked? How will I deal with such a situation without falling into the vice of arrogance and manipulation?"

The scene shifted.

Dumbledore, appearing much the same as before yet somehow older and wiser; although his hair had not yet started to whiten. He was pacing back forth in his teacher's quarters. In his pacing, he would turn sharply, and sometimes pause to touch one memento or artifact or another. As he paced, he spoke aloud to himself.

"One of our students was killed today by the monster from The Chamber of Secrets. Though we do not know what this thing is, two earlier attacks left a Ravenclaw and a Hufflepuff petrified. Fortunately, the hospital had some potion on hand made from Mandrake root and the children recovered, although neither could say what had caused their petrification beyond having seen some kind of red, glowing eyes in blurred reflections. However, in this case Myrtle Harrington, also from Hufflepuff, was found quite dead in a washroom. And while the body was carried out I had a vision about Tom Riddle who was standing in the stairway watching. It was a most disturbing vision, full of betrayal and hurt and some kind of looming monstrous shadow over everything. I asked him if there was something he wanted to tell me, and he seemed on the verge of doing so, but then decided against it. It was at that moment I saw the greatest threat of betrayal. The one to be betrayed was Rubeus Hagrid. And yet at the same time I Saw that a much aged Hagrid would still play a vital role in whatever drama was now unfolding. And so, as much as it pained me to, I acquiesced to the admonishments of my old Head of House and determined to forego meddling with the future. But, Oh! -- how hard it is to do nothing! All of my instincts and experience against the Dark Arts scream to me: Act! Anticipate! But I cannot See exactly what it is against which I must act. So as difficult as it is," he said, his voice becoming tired, "I will refrain from meddling with things I do not understand so as to avoid making them even worse."

The scene shifted.

Dumbledore. Appearing as Ginny had always known him.

"Professor Dumbledore!" she called, gladdened to see him again, but when the appartion ignored her she remembered that she was in a living-memory.

The room was the Headmaster's quarters, and she looked around, half-expecting to see herself at the bowl, but, of course, she wasn't in the room. Fawkes, however, was again on his perch, preening himself and looking resplendent.

The rich, warm voice she knew so well filled her mind with longing. She shook her head to rid herself of the melancholy and tried to focus on what the memory-self of Dumbledore was saying.

"As was anticipated, Harry Potter began school today. As I was sure would happen the hat Sorted him into Gryffindor, although it seemed to be a close thing. The hat told me afterwards that Harry could do very well for himself in Slytherin. As I thought, Voldemort's failed attack on the infant Harry transferred some of Voldemort's essence into the child. What this portends for Harry I have not Seen, and I have been haunted by feelings of dread and unseen evil and wickedness. I now know well that the scattering of Voldemort's essence when his Unforgiveable Curse backfired on him was not entirely final and that whatever remains of him has been gathering power and strength. I have had Hagrid retrieve the Philospher's Stone from the vaults at Gringott's, and having it here makes me feel better about it, though I do not yet know why. Still, I trust my instincts in this matter. They have proven themselves very good time and again.

"As to the matter of the young Harry Potter, I have this vague apprehension that weighty matters which have been left hanging for many years have now begun to fester anew and are beginning to go from a slow cooking to a quicker boiling. I hope that the habits which I have developed over the years in dealing with such situations will stand me now in good stead and that I will not spoil everything and weaken him by interfering in his life. Old habits do die hard, so they say, and while it is my habit to avoid interference, it also seems to be my habit to be so sorely tempted to interfere nonetheless."

The bowl flashed brilliantly and Ginny came to herself in the Headmistress's quarters. She hung her head for a moment, missing so very much the kind and gentle person who meant so very much to them all. She sniffed, wiped a tear from her cheek, then carefully picked up the bowl and placed it back into the cabinet.

At the bottom of the stairway the prefect opened his mouth to speak to her, but she rudely shoved him aside and hurried past.

At Gryffindor Tower, she hurried through the common room, up the stairs to the girl's dormitory, and into her own chamber. A couple of her friends shouted after her, asking her if she was all right and what had the Headmistress wanted? She never looked back, though, simply barging up the stairs. Her mind was a welter of confusion and whirling thoughts. She stood by her bed for a moment, unsure of whether to enter the experiences with the bowl into her own diary, and then she heard a low, maniacal laughter coming from behind her. She spun about, but the room was empty except for her, and then suddenly Harry's face appeared, but only his face, hanging in mid-air. "Boo!" he said.

Ginny screeched and put her hands to her mouth, then exclaimed, "You rotten nutter! You made me go collywobbles!" Then she was laughing and skipping into his arms.

He gathered her in, wrapping his cloak of invisibility about the two of them and kissing her hungrily. When they took a break he said, "Sorry, just thought it would make a nice little prank. Are you okay? Or has something been going on to make you afraid?"

"Oh, no. You mean like Death Eaters? No, not here. It's just --

"Well, I am lonely. Everybody is going down to Hogsmeade tonight but all my girlfriends are going with their boyfriends. I'm not sure if I want to go at all. Plus I have to put up with those Ravenclaw and Slytherin gits. Especially Jeanathan Sarasota. She's got it in for me this year and I just met with McGonagall who says it's because I don't have a big brother or you to protect me from them. They're only spreading nasty rumours and saying nasty things, though. It's not like they're threatening me."

Harry looked crestfallen. "I'm sorry, Ginny. I wish I could be here for you."

"Don't be silly! You've finished school. Besides, you're training to help round up Death Eaters, aren't you? Dad bagged three of them in five raids and they're already in Azkaban."

"I know," he said, looking chagrined. "I wish I could have helped a bit. Not just with getting information about where they were supposed to be but during the raids. I did hear that your dad is worried about the two they missed, though. They're wondering if they hadn't been told."

"I don't care! You're here, now. Can you stay? We can have supper together in the Great Hall and then nip off to Hogsmeade. There's a dance at the Barleycorn Pub and Barn."

"You bet! And maybe being seen with me will keep those nasty rumours quiet. Anything I should know about?"

Well, . . . there's one about how I walked through the wall in the astronomy tower because I went back up to Professor Estrella's quarters while two Ravenclaws were in the tower? They hadn't seen which way I went, but, Harry! -- the room is gone! Just like the Room of Requirement from when Umbridge was here. Why would it be there just for us, though? Because we needed a special place to be for ourselves?"

He shrugged. "I dunno. I don't see why not. After all, we're pretty special people, aren't we?" he asked, tightening his arms around her.

The next morning, with delightful memories of Harry swinging her around the dance floor at the Barleycorn Barn, Ginny made an effort to pay more attention in class. And her antagonists in both Slytherin and Ravenclaw were strangely reluctant to taunt her that day.

{Continued in Chapter Two}