Chapter 1 - The Letter

Molly and Arthur Weasley were sitting together in the kitchen at the Burrow sipping their tea in the dimly lit kitchen.  The sun had not yet risen but the sky was growing light and a bright half-moon filled the sky.

"It's going to be so strange this year," sighed Molly setting her teacup down. "I still can’t believe it’s already time for Ron to go to Hogwarts.  I just don't know what I'll do next year when my baby girl leaves too…"  A sob escaped her lips and she folded her arms down on the table, shoving her abandoned teacup to a precarious position, and burying her face in the thin fabric of her robe sleeves.

"Shh... Molly, no worrying about that just yet," Arthur said soothingly. He reached over to rub his wife's back. "There's still another whole year before Ginny leaves...” He paused in his ministrations as a large owl flew in the open window and landed on the table. It was an elegant looking owl, its feathers gleaming both silver from the moonlight and a soft gold from the candlelight, that was standing stock-still while holding out a leg containing two scrolls.  Once Arthur had fumbled about with the purple ribbon attaching the scrolls to the bird’s leg, it took off into the dark sky, not even waiting for a treat or drink of water.

"What is dear?" Molly said, looking up at her husband with her tear-streaked face.

“Just an odd owl post,” he said, frowning at the scrolls.  The thinner of the two was addressed to The Parents of Ginevra Weasley while the thicker one was addressed to Ginevra Weasley.  Breaking the purple wax seal, he then smoothed the letter out on the table so they could both read it.  Molly flicked her wand at a few key points around the room, lighting several gas lamps on the walls so that they had enough light to read the missive by.

 

Dear Monsieur and Madame Weasley,

We are pleased to inform you that your daughter, Ginevra Molly Weasley, has been selected to attend L'Academie des Sorcieres.

L’Academie des Sorcieres is an ancient school of magic that has been operational for nearly three millennia with the goal of ensuring the brightest and most powerful witches receive an exemplary education.  The witches who come here may not necessarily be gifted in a solely magical field but may in fact have exceptional skills in an ordinary area that change how we view the world.  Our Divinations professors are tasked with finding girls who show great potential and following their recommendations we offer these girls positions in our school.

 This letter has been sent to you at this time such that you may think about the offer. Since Miss Weasley does not speak French, she would be required to arrive here no later than January 2 to gain fluency in the language before the next term starts on September 1. There are no summer holidays but students are permitted to return home for two weeks for Easter holidays and another two weeks for Christmas holidays.

As with any other witch accepted to L'Academie des Sorcieres, everything will provided for your daughter when she arrives here. We are highly specific in the school supplies that must be purchased after her arrival, and as such, we must ask that she bring nothing more than herself and the clothes on her back when she arrives. Similarly, owls carrying any personal effects for the students (other than letters) are strictly prohibited and the intended recipient will be expelled. Anything purchased by the school will be hers to keep. She will be accompanied by a staff member at all times whenever she leaves the school grounds until she reaches the age of seventeen.

Please do consider this offer and reply by owl no later than September 1.

Jeanne Boucher

Deputy Headmistress

 

Arthur’s jaw had dropped after reading the first line of the sentence and was still hanging open while Molly’s face had taken on an uncharacteristically pale hue. "I suppose we should discuss this with Ginny after I drop the others off today…" said she rather faintly, placing her trembling hands in her lap.

"Yes, we should." Arthur shook his head. "I'm going to leave work after lunch today so that both of us can talk to Ginny about this.  You will be alright seeing the boys off yourself, won’t you?” he asked anxiously.

“Of course I will,” she told him indignantly, and he was pleased to see that his remark had put some pink back into her cheeks.  “Though I still don’t understand why you can’t come with us, it is Ron’s first year after all, and Percy’s a prefect this year too.  Oh, I do hope he gets head boy like Bill!  I’m sure Charlie would’ve gotten it too if he hadn’t decided that chasing dragons around was more important than finishing school.”

“I wasn’t expecting an emergency call this early either,” he said glumly.  “I hope it gets resolved quickly but Frank wouldn’t even tell me what it was about.”  After glancing down at his watch, he gulped down the rest of his tea and pecked his wife on the cheek.  “I’ll be home for lunch, give the boys my love.”  As he walked out the door to Apparate to the ministry, Molly gulped down what remained of her tea before starting a grand breakfast for her children’s last morning at home.

 

-----

 

A few hours later Molly was hurrying her five youngest children along the platforms at Kings Cross station. "Now, what's the platform number?" she asked they hurried along.  Her older boys rolled their eyes at her seemingly silly question, but the meaning of it went deeper than they knew.  It was done by many of the parents to help Muggleborns find the platform: the ticket officer obviously wouldn’t be able to help so hopefully if they heard the odd platform number, they would quietly approach the witch or wizard who announced it and find their way to the train.

"Nine and three-quarters!" exclaimed Ginny.  "Mum, can't I go…"

Molly sighed to herself, recalling the letter that had arrived that morning, but she really did need to concentrate and make sure her children managed to get onto the platform unseen by Muggles. "Alright, Percy, you first."

After ushering her sons as well as a lonely little boy through the wrought iron gate, she grabbed Ginny's small hand and the two of them walked through to see the familiar red train waiting at the platform with a faint trail of billowing smoke in the air.  Grabbing each of the twins by a shoulder, she turned them about to face her. 

“Now listen to me you two,” she said sternly.  “I don’t want to be getting any letters from the school about the two of you this year.  I wouldn’t mind it if the letters came from you,” she hinted before dropping her grasp on their shoulders, only to pull them into a hug, banging their heads together.

“Ow!” Fred complained.

“Really Mum, did you have to do that?”

“You know I love you two very much, no matter how much grey I have to charm out of my hair from your antics.”  She pulled back, mopping her eyes for the second time that morning.  “Your father sends his love too!”

“We love you too, Mum,” George said gruffly.

“Yes, Mum, we really do.  However, we must be off since Lee’s got a tarantula already in his compartment!”

Molly smiled at her two sons retreating backs, who for all the trouble they gave her, reminded her so much of her own brothers.  She only had a moment to reminisce before Percy came striding towards her.

“I’m all settled into the Prefect’s carriage,” he informed her.

“Oh, Percy, I’m so proud of you,” she said with a smile, straining her neck to see his face.  “You’ve really gotten too tall, do you know that?”

He laughed.  “Mum, that’s why I asked for new robes as my present.  Even Bill’s longest ones were getting short on me.”

“Well, I’m sure I don’t need to remind you to behave yourself this year.  You will keep an eye on Ron, won’t you?”

Percy puffed out his chest importantly, emphasizing his shiny prefect badge.  “Of course, Mum.  It’s my duty as a prefect but even doubly so as an older brother.”

“That’s my boy,” Molly said proudly.  “Now, you have a good year and we’ll see you at Christmas.  Your father and I love you very much and we’re so very proud of you.”

Percy hugged her back with all the awkwardness of a fifteen-year-old boy hugging his mother in public.  “Love you too, Mum,” he said, before striding back over to the train.

Ginny came bounding back over to her mother’s side.  “I helped Ron pick out a compartment and put his trunk away!” she said.  “I wanted to stay on the train and sneak into Hogwarts but he wouldn’t let me.”

Molly tried to smother her laughter at her daughter’s efforts.  “I’m sure someone would’ve caught you anyways and made you get off if Ron hadn’t,” she said soothingly.

Fred and George came bounding back into view.  “I thought you were going to see Lee,” Molly said frowning.

“We did,” Fred said with a wave of his hand.

“But you’ll never guess who we ran into,” George continued.

“Harry Potter,” they said in unison.

“Oh! Can I go see him? Please Mum!” Ginny begged.

Molly frowned at her daughter. “No, he’s not something to be ogled at in a zoo.”  She turned back to the twins.  “Are you certain it was him?”

“Yeah,” Fred said seriously.  “Saw the scar and everything.  It’s on his forehead, like lightning.”

“He was the boy we helped on the platform,” George supplied helpfully.

“Oh poor dear, no wonder he was all alone.”

Ron approached the twins, but Molly pulled him into a hug.

“I can’t believe you’re so big already!”

“Ow, Mum!  Gerrof!”

“Wait, you’ve got something on your nose – “ At this Molly pulled a clean handkerchief out of her pocket and tried to scrub some dirt off of Ron’s nose.

“Has ickle Ronnikins got something on his nose?” Fred asked, only to receive glares from both his mother and sister.

“Mum!” Ron gasped indignantly as he managed to pull away.

“We should probably get on the train, it’s nearly time,” George said quickly.

Molly was distracted until the train finally started chugging away from the station and she looked down at the little girl next to her. Her bright red hair was blowing wildly in the wind and tears were glinting in her eyes.

"Oh, Ginny dear, don't be sad! Mummy's got a big surprise for you back home!" Scooping her into her arms, she twisted on the spot and Apparated back to the Burrow.  I’m not going to be able to do that much longer, she thought sadly.  Much as she wanted to hold onto her little girl for as long as she could, the letter that arrived that morning, as well as the increasingly obvious fact that her daughter was nearly as tall as she, indicated that her babies were all growing up.

 

-----

 

Ginny sat forlornly at the kitchen table while her mother bustled about the kitchen making sandwiches. She finally finished and placed two large trays of sandwiches on the table and gave her a large glass of milk. Apparently her mother felt that she was still feeding six teenage boys since there was definitely enough food out for all her brothers. Grabbing a roast beef and cheese sandwich, she looked expectantly at her mother who had started pacing the kitchen nervously.

Swallowing her bite of sandwich and washing it down with some milk she finally asked, "Mum? Is there something wrong?"

"We're just waiting for your father, dear," she mumbled distractedly, glancing up at the clock where Arthur's hand stayed firmly put at "work".

Ginny frowned at her mother and came to the conclusion that she was hungry and she certainly wasn't going to figure out what was going on until her father arrived home. She began tucking into her delicious sandwich and did her best to ignore her mother as she clearly wasn't going to say what was going on till her father arrived. Just as she was finishing her second sandwich, her mother gasped and seconds later there was the distinct crack of Apparition, shortly followed by her father walking through the door.

"Oh my, oh my," her father sighed. "Who would ever guess that a Sunday morning would be so hectic? Turns out that a witch was running a Muggle dancing school and had bewitched all the dancing shoes so that her students would never make a mistake…" He rambled on in this manner until he had finished eating his sandwiches. Her mother had finally sat down at the table and had listened to his ramblings while wringing her hands all the while.

Ginny crossed her arms and stared at her parents. "What exactly is going on?" she demanded.

Her parents looked at each other uneasily. Scratching his head, her father finally said, "Well, Gin, we got a letter this morning inviting you to attend L'Academie des Sorcieres."

Her mouth gaped open. She had heard rumors of the mythical school but nothing more.  Supposedly only very special, very talented witches ever got to go there, although exactly where there was something she had never managed to figure out, so she had reached the conclusion that it was a made up school for bedtime stories.  Finally, she managed to squeak out, "W-wh-what?  You mean that place actually exists?"

Her mother smiled at her and began to rub her arm soothingly. "Yes, dear, you've been invited to attend L'Academie des Sorcieres. It's a tremendous honor to be asked to attend there." She picked up the scrolls that had arrived that morning and handed them to Ginny. The first one was unfurled and obviously read by her parents already, but there was a second, thicker one addressed to her that was still tightly furled.

"I – I'll just take these up to my room then," she stammered before bolting up the stairs. Throwing herself on her bed, she read the first letter. She found herself both thrilled and terrified by the prospect. She'd be able to go to school instead of being the little baby stuck at home and her parents wouldn't have to worry about buying her school supplies. However, she'd be going far, far away from home all by herself with nothing to remind her of home or have her familiar comforts. Sighing she unfurled the second letter and began to read.

 

Dear Mademoiselle Ginevera,

By now I trust that you are aware that you have been invited to attend L'Academie des Sorcieres. I will explain why this is such an honor and how we differ from other magical academies, since you have likely not heard too much of our school.

We keep tabs on the most powerful and intelligent witches in the Magical Community all over Europe, with such witches as Morgan La Fay and Circe being some of our more prominent graduates. When the time comes, we send these letters inviting witches, such as you, to join us. Since the school is located in France and we have so many witches with varying native tongues, all classes are taught in French. As such, you will spend the Winter and Summer terms before you are due to start in a French immersion program to ensure that you have enough fluency in the language to excel in your classes in the Fall term. As you will find out when you arrive, being a powerful witch is not simply limited to the standard magical subjects you study and we will do everything in our power to see where you excel and hone your abilities to their absolute best.

Our curriculum also is quite different than those found at Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, or Hogwarts. We feel that it is important to study many of the same subjects Muggles do as well as the traditional magical courses. You will also remain here for ten years rather than the seven the other school require. However, as our program is held in such high esteem throughout the world, you are guaranteed a job immediately following your graduation. We have attached the courses you will be taking over the next year:

Winter/Summer 1992

Total French Immersion

Poise and Etiquette

Fall 1992

Potions 1 with Chemistry

Magical and Muggle History 1

Herbology 1 and Plant Biology

French 1

English 1

German 1

Latin 1

Poise and Etiquette

Winter 1993

Transfiguration 1

Charms 1

Healing 1 and Human Physiology 1

French 2

English 2

German 2

Latin 2

Poise and Etiquette

Summer 1993

Arthimancy 1 and Pre-Algebra

Divination 1

Care of Magical Creatures and Zoology

French 3

English 3

German 3

Latin 3

Poise and Etiquette

 

After completing all of the basic courses (typically after your fifth year), you may choose a more specified area to study. As mentioned in the accompanying letter, students are not allowed to bring anything of their own to school. This was instituted such that there are no petty rivalries over possessions that would interfere with your studies.

We hope that you will join us in January!

Jeanne Boucher

Deputy Headmistress

 

Ginny contemplated the second letter. It did sound like a great opportunity and she'd get to school earlier than expected. As much as she did want to attend Hogwarts, she had already been to the castle for Bill’s graduation and there she would simply one of many Weasleys. None of her brothers had attended L'Academie des Sorcieres so she would not have to fight to get out of six large shadows. There was also the issue of money: she knew that while her parents made sure that they had everything they needed, money was still very tight. Having one less person to buy school supplies for would help them and from what she understood, she would be able to get a well-paying job after she graduated and would be able to help her family out then. Yes, she had decided, she would go.

Chapter 2 – The Announcement

When her parents sent an owl to Madame Boucher saying that Ginny would be delighted to take advantage of this unique opportunity, Ginny had slipped a letter of her own along with it.

 

Dear Madam Boucher,

My parents are sending you a letter saying that I’ll be coming in January, but I thought I’d write you myself.  You see, while you gave a bit of an explanation about the school, it really didn’t answer my questions.

My brothers, who are all older than me and went to Hogwarts, would tell me all these amazing things about the castle.  Is your school in a castle?  Do the stairs move?  Do you have to fight a trolls to fit in with everyone else?  Supposedly there’s ghosts there too who are dead helpful, but there’s a poltergeist that everyone but Fred and George complain about.  Does your school have any ghosts?  Are they friendly?

Thanks,

Ginny

 

To say she was shocked at the response would be an understatement.  Madame Boucher seemed to slip into a full-on teacher mode and sent several textbooks on the history of the school, a lengthy letter explaining each of the courses she would be required to take as well as all the elective courses available, and several French primers she would be able to bring along with her. What was the most shocking was the textbook that contained a biography of every witch to have attended the school.  Very few of them had been experts in “normal” jobs, as she called them: many of them had gone on to create entirely new things or had found ways to integrate Muggle technology with magic.

While her parents had not only accepted her choice but had even encouraged it, she was still uncertain of her brother's reactions. They could all be awfully overprotective of her since she was not only the baby of the family, but their only sister, and they might not like her going away somewhere far away where they couldn't keep her from harm. They might even take it as a personal insult that Hogwarts wasn't good enough for her and she had to go to some snooty school far away.  All these thoughts ran through her head one day mid-December.  Her hands began to tremble as she slid the gingerbread cookies she had baked off the tray and onto the platter.

"Here, Ginny dear, let me finish that for you," her mother said while taking the cookie tray out of her daughter's trembling hands. Ginny sank into a nearby chair and began staring intently at her hands.

"What if they hate me, Mum?" she said softly. "What if my brothers never speak to me again because of this?"

"Ginny, that's just silly," her mother scolded. "Your brothers won't give you any trouble, I'll see to that…"

"But, Mum…"

"Ginevera…"

"All right, all right," she said, throwing her hands up in the air signaling defeat. "I'll make sure that my room is straightened out before everyone gets here." Stomping up the stairs, she opened the door to her room and locked the door. It was a very crude Muggle lock her father had found for her years ago when her brothers were always barging into her room. After listening to her cry after one particularly rough day, he had found the lock in his collection and spelled it to resist most unlocking charms. While he and her mother knew spells to unlock it, none of her brothers did.

Despite what she had told her mother earlier, Ginny's room was already clean. It was a violent explosion of pink: the wall were a bright pink, the carpet a pale pink, the furniture white with pink butterflies, and both the bedspread and curtains were pale pink with bright pink butterflies. She winced slightly, here she was, a big girl about to go off to school in another country and her room still looked like that of a little girl. Finally, she had determined what she wanted for Christmas and sat down to write her letter to Father Christmas.

-----

Molly and Arthur had set up a system many years ago for Father Christmas letters. They kept stacks of charmed paper on hand which once folded in a particular way appeared in a special bin hidden to the children that jingled merrily whenever it received a new letter. While most of the children still used it for writing their letters to Father Christmas, Bill and Charlie used it whenever they wished to send them a private message. Molly had gotten letters from all her children this year, with the exception of Ginny. She knew that this was because Ginny was leaving soon and wouldn't be able to bring any gifts with her, but she was still saddened nonetheless. Needless to say, she assumed Bill or Charlie was writing her when she heard the merry jingling just before she headed off to Kings Cross station to pick up her sons.

She walked over to the bin to retrieve the letter and gasped when she recognized Ginny's scribble of "Father Christmas" on the front. The letter was eagerly torn open and she began to read its contents in the dim light of the cupboard:

 

Dear Father Christmas,

I'm terribly sorry for waiting so long to write you this year, but I've been at a loss as to what to tell you. You see, I'm going to this new school in soon and I'm not allowed to bring anything with me, so it'd be rather silly for me to ask for anything this year. However, I think I have found a solution to this and I do hope you'll be able to help me.

First off, I’m going to school and my room is still pink. I'm not a little girl anymore and I really wish my room were any other color. I don't care if you just charm everything to be another color, just please let my room be any color other than pink.

Secondly, please, please don't let my brothers be mad at me for not going to Hogwarts. Also, please let the new girls at school like me. I've never really had any real friends before and I really want to make some when I get there.

Thanks very much,

Ginny

 

Molly's mouth was set in a thin line. If this was all her daughter wanted for Christmas, then by God, she was going to get it.

 

-----

 

Later that afternoon, after picking up her sons at the train station, Molly began hustling her boys towards the Leaky Cauldron so that they could floo back home. They were quite surprised when she steered them into a booth instead of going directly to the fireplace.  They were even more surprised when after they all sat down, she stood at the head of the table, hands on her hips, glowering down at them.

"Are we eating dinner here, Mum?" Ron asked confusedly, while Fred and George exchanged puzzled looks.  They certainly hadn’t done anything worthy of their mother’s wrath – recently.  There was that one time two months ago – but no, they had already received her Howler for it.

"No, I just need to talk to all of you before we get home." Molly sighed heavily. "Ginny has some news for you and I expect each and every one of you to accept it.  She’s having a hard time worrying about you lot."

Fred and George looked horrified. "Mum," George began, "Ginny is way too young for a boyfriend."

Molly nearly burst out laughing seeing the horrified expressions her four sons now sported. "No, dear, she's not seeing anyone." She shook her head in amusement, afraid that if she didn’t she’d burst out laughing and lose the image she was trying to maintain.  "I expect she’ll tell you during dinner and I don’t want to hear one unkind word out of any of you." She gripped the edge of the table and glared down at them. "Have I made myself clear?"

A chorus of "Yes, Mum" was heard mumbled and she smiled at their retreating backs as she shooed them all to the fireplace.

 

-----

 

Ginny was lying on her bed thinking of what her life would be like in just over a week. Would it be similar to the chaos and comfort she knew at home? Would it be cold and uncaring? She was particularly concerned about the constant "Poise and Etiquette" classes she would have to take: the extent of the etiquette that was expected at the Burrow was to say please, thank you, and not speak with your mouth full. Ron had been failing dismally at the latter one all of his life.  The books that Madame Boucher sent made her think that there was a great deal of emphasis placed on that particular subject and that there was a great deal more involved.

She was startled out of her thoughts when she heard a loud thunk on the floor in the kitchen followed by an enthusiastic shout of "GINGERBREAD!" Her brothers must have arrived home and from the sound of it, were devouring all of her hard work. She squealed, jumped out of her bed, and bounded down the stairs to give her brothers a welcome home hug and pester them about school.

"Ron, watch out – " Fred tried to warn, but Ginny had already catapulted herself towards her youngest brother, who sprayed gingerbread crumbs across the room at the force of her impact.

"Gin – gerrof! Come on..." he whined.

Fred walked over to pat his brother's shoulder. "Don't worry, ickle Ronnikins, she does this all the time, you'll just have to – oomph –" He was cut off as Ginny took advantage of another brother nearby and enveloped him in a bear hug.

"I think I shall just head upstairs and unpack my things," Percy said pompously, attempting to stride to the staircase before getting attacked by Ginny. Unfortunately for him, he was not quick enough and was nearly knocked over by his baby sister.

"Now, now, Gin," George said as he walked over to free his brother from his sister's clutches. "Don't tell me you don't have a hug for your favorite brother?"

Ginny released Percy, who began to gingerly rub his ribs before escaping to his room, and clung to George. George hugged her back just as fiercely before she exclaimed, "I knew there was a reason you're my favorite brother!"

"Hey now," Fred pouted, feigning hurt. "I thought I was your favorite brother."

Ginny stuck her hands on her hips and glared at her brothers. "I made gingerbread cookies for all of you and this is the welcome I get? Humph."

"Now, Ginny dear, calm down. You know your brothers are just teasing you," her mother said. "Now, dinner's nearly ready and your father should be home any minute so why don't you all go clean up for dinner?"

After everyone had bolted up the stairs to try and get to the bathroom first so they could be the first one at the table, they had all grumbled, washed up, and scrambled back downstairs, where their father had arrived. After hoots of delight at seeing him and somewhat less enthusiastic hugs than earlier, they had all enjoyed Molly's delicious cooking. About halfway through desert, Ginny noticed her mother's pointed looks, and finally cleared her throat.

"Does anyone remember the stories about L’Academie des Sorceries?" she started off, somewhat timidly.

“It’s a mythical school that’s had a number of different names, but that’s the most recent one,” Percy said promptly, holding a forkful of mashed potatoes halfway to his mouth.  “Why do you ask?”

“How do you know it doesn’t exist?” she pressed on, hoping that Percy’s studiousness would help her in this case.

“I don’t,” he answered honestly.  “According to stories, it’s not a public university so it wouldn’t appear in articles about public Wizarding education in Europe.  There are a handful of private schools in Europe, however, which very few people know of, so it’s possible that it is counted among that number.”

“What if,” Ginny said carefully, “I said I got an invite from them?”

Percy blinked rather owlishly.  “Well, I’d have to give you my congratulations then.”  He seemed to finally grasp what she was trying to say.

“You mean,” said Fred, “that that school actually exists?”

“You won’t be going there, right Ginny?” George asked, confident that her response would be in the negative.

“Actually,” Ginny said, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.  “The school does exist and I am going there.”  Glancing around the table she saw her brothers looking at her in shock.  “I’m leaving on Boxing Day,” she muttered, looking down intently at her mashed potatoes.

"WHAT?" Ron shouted. "You're only 10! You can't go to Hogwarts till you're 11 and you definitely can't start mid-term."

"I'm not going to Hogwarts," she mumbled, feeling ill and suddenly wishing she had eaten much less. "I'm going to L'Academie des Sorcieres."

"And why are you starting mid-term?" George asked confusedly.

Arthur cleared his throat and took over. "This is a tremendous honor for Ginny.  It’s a highly selective school that asked her to attend, but since classes are in French she needs to start the immersion program next month."

Daring a peek upwards, Ginny glanced at her brother's faces. Percy’s mouth was hanging open, with his mouth full of chewed food.  Fred and George appeared to be waiting for someone to yell, “April Fools!”  Ron was handling it by far the worst: he looked absolutely livid and his face had taken on the traditional Prewett purple.  She contemplated ducking under the table to avoid the oncoming explosion, be it blood, food, or both, before her mother’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Percy! I have never seen such appalling table manners from you!  Shut your mouth this instant!

“You mean… this isn’t a joke?” George said rather faintly.

“Why would we joke about something this serious?” Arthur asked tiredly, cleaning his glasses on his robes.

“BECAUSE THAT BLOODY SCHOOL DOESN’T EXIST!” Ron bellowed.

“RONALD WEASLEY!  I will NOT tolerate that language under this roof!” Molly shrieked.

“Well, Gin,” George said slowly, “I’ve always pictured you at Hogwarts, but if this is what you want then I guess I’m alright with it.”

“Yeah,” Fred added.  “We’ll just have to send you instructions and ideas for pranks through owl post instead of in person.”

“You’re not going,” Ron insisted, crossing his arms across his chest.

Ginny snapped.  “And why not?” she demanded.  “Because you won’t have the glory of lording over me next year in school?  Because you won’t be the only one who’s so special, what with having a famous friend?”

Ron turned bright red.  “I’m not friends with Harry because he’s famous!”

“No, but you won’t deny that you like having the benefits of having a famous friend,” she said in a low voice.  “Makes you feel special now, doesn’t it?  You wouldn’t feel like the center of attention if your ickle baby sister went off to some other school.”

“You’re sure you want to go, Gin?” Percy asked worriedly.

“I do, Perce, I really do,” Ginny assured him.  “Madame Boucher’s sent me loads of information about the school; I can show it to you after dinner, if you want.”

“I’d like that very much,” he said, with an uncharacteristic look of glee on his face.

“I can’t believe this!” Ron fumed.  “Am I the only one who thinks it’s absolutely mad to send Ginny off to an unknown school when she’s so young?”  He left the table and stomped up the stairs.  When he reached his room, he slammed the door behind him so loudly they could hear the ghoul trying to match the noise level Ron was making down in the kitchen.

“Oh dear,” Molly said worriedly, before embracing her daughter in a hug.  “I’m sure he’ll come round eventually,” she added hastily, seeing tears begin to form in Ginny’s eyes.

“Er, Ginny?” Percy asked hesitantly.  “I’m stuffed, do you want to show me those papers now?”

Ginny hastily wiped her eyes as she stepped out of her mother’s warm embrace.  “Yeah, that sounds like a great idea.”  The two of them started up the stairs.

Fred and George could sense the tension in the kitchen as their two siblings left.

“Well, Mum,” Fred began.

“Excellent dinner, as always,” George continued.

“Absolutely smashing to see you, Dad,”

“But now we have things to do,”

“Places to be,”

“And all that jazz.”  Both of them bolted up the stairs to escape to their mercifully tensionless room.

Molly sighed and buried her face in her hands.  “I told them to behave before we got home,” she said, her voice muffled.

“Ron’s just jealous, he’ll get over it soon enough,” Arthur said, though he didn’t sound entirely convinced.

“I can only hope so,” she said, sweeping her wand over the remaining dishes.  The food began packing itself up while the dishes flew gracefully into the sink and began scrubbing themselves.

Chapter 3

Ginny surveyed her room one last time before she turned to leave to go off to school for an entire year.  She had discovered that Father Christmas was, in fact, her mum, as she had awoken one night to her mother poking about her room and changing the colors of various objects. After quite a bit of shouting on Ginny’s part and quite a bit of shushing and a Silencing charm on her mum’s part, it was finally admitted that this was her Christmas present and her parents were “Father Christmas”.  While her room hadn’t really changed, she felt that it was now a much better representation of a growing girl than the girlish theme it had had previously.

Gone were the pink carpets and walls.  The walls were now a warm shade of yellow with a blue border at the top.  The carpet, though still worn, was a pale blue and the stubborn stain in the corner had finally faded away.  The butterflies were now a slightly darker shade of yellow than the walls and the bedspread and curtains were pale blue.  The thick white paint that had covered the furniture had been stripped away, leaving light wood behind.  When she had gone downstairs Christmas morning, there was a box full of blue and yellow beads of all shades that formed a curtain in her doorway.  It had proved more useful as a deterrent than the lock on her door ever had since her brothers, despite all their supposed Gryffindor courage, were terrified of walking through strings of beads.  She loved running through the beads and couldn’t fathom why her brothers were so terrified of them.

Her brothers had mixed reactions to her news.  Percy had nearly become a nuisance; constantly borrowing the books she had been sent.  Although he had initially been approving of her decision, he not been pleased with the discovery that most of the witches had gone on to live quiet lives, avoiding the spotlight of their successes.  He began to press her to do something more with her life when she graduated, to which she tartly informed him that she wouldn’t be graduating for over a decade and that was not something either of them needed to worry about yet.  Thankfully, George had intervened, chucking a Dungbomb at Percy’s head after that and then whisked Ginny up to his room to plan pranks.  He and Fred had been devastated when they found out that they would not be allowed send her anything. In order to rectify this unforeseen problem, they successfully taught her how to think of pranks on her feet.  After hours cooped up in their room, they finally agreed that they would send letters full of detailed instructions on other pranks. 

The rest of her brothers were less enthusiastic.  Ron had promptly written to Bill and Charlie, explaining his skewed view of what was happening at home.  Bill and Charlie had both written her letters saying how disappointed they were that she was going to miss out on all the joys and wonders of Hogwarts.  Charlie was a bit more understanding than Bill and Ron, since he had left Hogwarts after his sixth year to go study dragons in an exchange program, but neither Bill nor Ron was on speaking terms with her.  Bill, having been Head Boy, felt that it was vitally important for her to attend Hogwarts and not “some pansy school” and spent four feet of parchment trying to convince her not to go.  He wrote to their parents after her brief reply, telling them that she was making a grave mistake and they should not allow her to do so.  Ron similarly had not spoken or looked at her since she informed him of her decision.

“Are you ready, dear?” her mother’s voice called softly up the stairs, interrupting her musings.  “Madame Boucher is ready and the Portkey will be leaving shortly.”  Madame Boucher had arrived rather early in the morning, shortly after her parents had gotten up, to finalize the arrangements for Ginny.

Ginny took a last look at her “new” old room, running a finger gently through the beaded curtain.  “Coming, Mum,” she answered back, hearing her door click shut behind her.  She forced back a sob and straightened her shoulders, anything to distract her from the already overwhelming homesickness she was feeling.  Setting her jaw, she made her way down to the kitchen. 

Her mother and father were sitting at the table with a rather elegant looking woman who looked to be a few years older than her parents.  She was wearing traditionally cut robes in a rich plum color which contrasted brilliantly with her honey blonde hair.

“Ah, Ginevra, how nice to meet you at last,” the woman, whom she assumed to be Madame Boucher, said warmly as she rose from the table.

“’Lo,” Ginny said quietly, looking at her for a moment before turning her attention to a scuff on her shoe.

Molly Weasley laughed, but the effect was spoiled by a hiccup, clearly indicating that she had been sobbing before Ginny came down.  “She’s hardly ever this shy,” she told Madame Boucher with a watery smile.

“She seems stronger and braver than most,” she said in an effort to console Molly.  “I’ve had many girls cling to their parents in hysterics.”

“Well, Gin,” her father said quietly.  “The Portkey is set to go to Paris in a minute so I wish you the best and I want to hear from you often.”

Ginny finally looked up and hugged her father tightly.  “I will, Dad,” she promised.  “I love you.  I’ll see you during the Easter holidays.”  At that, her eyes began watering again and she felt her mother pulling her into a tight embrace.

“Oh, Ginny,” she sobbed.  “You be on your best behavior there, you hear me?  I don’t want any letters coming back telling me how much trouble you’re getting into.”

“I love you too, Mum,” Ginny whispered.

“I do hate to interrupt, but we need to get going if we don’t want to miss the Portkey,” Madame Boucher said.

Molly mopped her eyes as Arthur came and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“We’re so proud of you Gin,” he said softly as Ginny placed a finger onto the crumpled soda can.

“Five, four, three, two, one…” The Burrow disappeared around her in a swirling mix of colors as she felt a crochet hook grab onto her naval and whisk her away.

“There now,” Madame Boucher said as they landed in a cobbled street similar to Diagon Alley.  “How are you, Ginevra?”

“I’m alright,” Ginny whispered, not looking up at the tall woman standing next to her.

“Of course you aren’t,” the woman said kindly.  “You’re leaving home earlier than most to someplace completely foreign and you can’t even speak the language!  It’s perfectly alright to be scared.”  Ginny looked up at her with wide, terrified eyes, causing the woman to chuckle softly and give her a soft smile.  “See what I mean?  It’s alright to feel scared; I’d be surprised if you weren’t.  The best thing to do right now is to get your mind off it, so let’s go shopping for your things.”

After setting down the cobbled street at a quick pace, they turned into a robe shop.  Ginny wandered around the store while Madame Boucher talked to the sales clerk before she was called over to be measured for her robes.

“Now Ginevra, you will be getting four sets of school robes, three sets of dress robes, ten sets of everyday robes, a light cloak, a heavy cloak, five nightgowns, and ten sets of underthings.” She paused here, taking in Ginny’s wide eyed shock.  “Now, you are required to wear your school robes during the day when classes are being held, but outside of those times, you are not allowed to wear them and you must wear your other robes.  While Madame Guillemette and I choose your dress robes, you need to pick out your everyday robes.  Make sure that you get a good selection for all seasons: we won’t be back here for a year and a half!”

With that she and Madame Guillemette, as it seemed the sales clerk was called, settled down with a thick book, leaving Ginny to go find her everyday robes.  At first she was overwhelmed: more often than not she wore her brother’s hand-me-down Muggle clothes and on rare occasions her mother took her to the shabby second-hand robe store in Diagon Alley to get something more appropriate for a little girl, she had never had any new clothes outside of the sweaters her mum knit everyone for Christmas.  After a considerable time, she had selected ten robes she felt were appropriate and fit well.  She brought them over to where Madame Boucher and Madame Guillemette were still pouring over the thick book.

“Ah, good, Ginevra,” Madame Boucher said, after checking the robes Ginny had selected.  “We’ve narrowed the selection down to five robes and would like to see them on you before we make a final decision.  Put those robes on the table to your right.”

Ginny gladly placed the heavy pile of robes she had been holding onto the designated table.  Madame Guillemette gestured for her to walk into a small changing room towards the back of the store where the five sets of dress robes were ready for her to try on.  She grimaced at the robe on the top of the pile and hoped this one was not chosen.  The top was bright pink with a very poufy pale pink skirt.  For all that she disliked how it looked she marveled at how well it fit her as she walked out of the changing room.

Both women’s eyes bugged out for a moment before Madame Guillemette gasped, “Non, non!” and pushed Ginny back into the changing room.  Pleased at their less than satisfactory reaction, Ginny pulled off the offending robe and hung it neatly on a hook on the far wall.  The next robe looked far more tasteful in midnight-blue velvet with a thick, pale blue, satiny sash secured by an intricate silver pin.  The flowing hem of the robes swirled around her ankles as she walked out of the changing room.  She twisted slightly from side to side as she walked towards Madames Boucher and Guillemette who smiled kindly at her antics.

“Turn around, please,” Madame Boucher said.  Ginny quickly spun in a half circle making the skirt form a bell shape.  “Lovely, simply lovely, we’ll be keeping that one.”  She continued talking to Madame Guillemette in soft French so Ginny walked back into the changing room.

The next robe was a lovely shade of emerald green, but the taffeta fabric felt foreign on her skin.  The skirt puckered oddly, making her resemble a large, green, overused pincushion.  Smoothing the skirt down as best she could, she walked out of the changing room for a third time.

“Hmm,” Madame Boucher examined critically.  “The green is absolutely lovely with your hair and skin, but I’m not sure about the cut.”  She began talking softly to Madame Guillemette in French, pointing at various parts of the dress and asking Ginny to turn several times.  Finally the two looked satisfied and Madame Guillemette approached Ginny with her short, thick wand outstretched.  Ginny’s eyes widened as the wand was pointed at the skirt, smoothing it completely and deflating several inches.  She shivered as the wand delicately traced along her waist before tracing along the hem of the robes.  The elderly Frenchwoman stepped back and examined her critically before breaking into a broad smile.  “Yes, that’s quite lovely, we’ll be taking that one too.”

Ginny looked down and saw that there was now delicate silver embroidery along the waist and hem of the robe.  Smiling softly, she skipped back to the changing room. 

After placing the robe into the “keepers” pile, she looked at the next robe and gasped in shock.  This robe was an ivory color with a thick champagne colored neckline to give the illusion that it was off-the-shoulders, but thin ivory straps would keep the robe from slipping.  Matching elbow length gloves accompanied the splendid robe.  She carefully pulled the robe on, smoothing it down before pulling the gloves on.

“Excellent,” Madame Boucher said, standing when Ginny walked out of the changing room.  “We’ll be taking those three then.  Change into one of the new everyday robes, Ginevra, I’ll settle the rest of this and have the robes sent back to the castle.”

Ginny nodded mutely as she pulled on a robe with a soft black top and flowing white bottom.  She suddenly felt very tired and hungry and realized that she hadn’t eaten breakfast that morning and it was nearly noon.

“Now that that’s all taken care of,” Madame Boucher said, pulling on a pair of black leather gloves, “let’s go find something to eat.  There’s a lovely boulangerie, Le Gateau Dansant, just up the street.”

Ginny nodded meekly and followed the taller woman down the cobbled street.   She sank gratefully into a chair at a small table while Madame Boucher went up to the counter and ordered some food.  She returned a few minutes later with two steaming cups of hot chocolate and two baguettes stuffed with cheese floating in front of her.

“Now let’s see how much you read of those primers I sent you,” she said with a smile.  “This is…”

Ginny frowned.  “Unn bag-ette eat from-age.”

Madame Boucher winced.  “Your grasp of words is good, but your grammar and pronunciation is horrible.  Repeat after me: Une baguette avec du fromage.”

Ginny repeated it several more times before it was deemed passable.  “You’ll do fine once you start tomorrow.  Now do you see those bright flowers, over by that window?  Those are…”

 

-----

 

Several hours later, they found themselves in a bookstore.  Madame Boucher was discussing what books they needed while Ginny was browsing the very small English literature section in the store.  She had become engrossed in a book when she was startled by a tap on her shoulder.

“There’s an extensive library back at the palace,” she was assured.  “Now come, we must get you a wand, even if you won’t be really using it all that much yet.”

Ginny carefully put the book where she found it, a huge grin forming on her face.  Money had been particularly tight last summer and Ron couldn’t even get a new wand.  Luckily, Charlie’s old one had been mauled by a gnome when he was de-gnoming the garden a few years back and Ron was able to use that one, with the promise that he’d get one of his very own as soon as they could afford it.  In her excitement, she barely realized where she was going until she was forcefully steered into a small, dingy shopfront.  Much to her surprise, the room inside was bright, clean, and spacious.

“Bonjour,” an elderly witch greeted them as she appeared from the depths of one of the many aisles.  “Quelle langue petite celle-ci parle-t-elle?”

“English,” Madame Boucher said with a smile.

“Ah, welcome, little one.  You’re here for your first wand, I presume?”

Ginny was too excited to speak and opted for nodding an affirmative with a huge grin on her face.

“Very well then, my dear, hop on that stool and we’ll get you measured.”  She flicked her wand, conjouring a tape measure which began flying about Ginny the instant she stepped onto the stool.  Madame Boucher settled herself onto the comfortable looking sofa while the elderly woman strode spritely down one aisle and pulled out a thin, carved box.  She flicked her wand again, causing the tape measure to vanish, then handed Ginny the box.  “Cherry and unicorn hair, 24 cm, solid.  Give it a whirl!”

Ginny gently pulled the box open to reveal a plain cherry wand.  Picking it up out of the box, she held it gingerly in her fingers.  She grimaced as she gave it a half-hearted whirl.  This felt nothing like what her mother had told her about how wands felt.

“No?  Hmm, try this one, beech and Veela hair, 23 cm.  Very light.”

Ginny opened the new box that had appeared in her hand and picked up the wand from inside, but this one didn’t feel right either.  She gave it another half-hearted whirl before it was replaced yet again.

“Birch and dragon heartstring, 28 cm.  Very rigid.”

This wand felt better than the others, but nothing happened when she attempted to wave it around.  The elderly woman got a gleam in her eye when Ginny mentioned this.  “Really now.  Hmm, willow and phoenix feather, 30 cm.  Very springy.”

This wand was intricately carved, just like the box, with a smooth handle.  Ginny hoped that this one liked her simply because of how pretty it looked sitting in the box.  Her spirits plummeted as she picked it up and waived it around with no results.

“I thought as much,” the woman muttered.  “Yew and dragon heartstring, 27 cm.  Quite a contrast, good for a variety of work.”

Ginny didn’t even bother to look down at this wand.  She was getting frustrated at how long it was taking to find her wand.  Flicking it towards the door, it was snatched out of her hand yet again.

“No, hmm?  Hazel and dragon heartstring, 26 cm.  One of the best wands I have for charms and defensive spells.”

Ginny gasped as she grasped the handle and looked down.  It was a beautiful wand, highly polished and a red color a few shades darker than her hair.  While she admired the simple carvings on it that somehow looked more beautiful than the intricate carvings on the wand she previously admired, she was most amazed at the feeling of warmth and the surge of power coursing through her veins.  This is what it was supposed to feel like.  She whirled the wand in front of her, streaming out blue stars and silver dust.

“Excellent!”  Turning to Madame Boucher, who had been watching everything from her comfortable seat, she continued.  “Je suppose que vous voudriez avoir la facture envoyée à l'academie?”

“Oui, oui, s’il vous plait.  Nous prendrons le baton avec nous, je ne pensons pas qu'elle veut laisser aller de elle.”

“C'est comprehensible.  Bonjour!”

Ginny tried listening in to the conversation but could only pick out a word here and there.  She tried to comfort herself by looking down at her new wand, but suddenly felt weak and exhausted.  She had been studying her primers for months and still couldn’t understand what was going on!  How had she ever expected that she would survive subjects that she had never learned before?  She sank into the sofa that Madame Boucher had vacated in order to go speak to the elderly witch.  Against her wishes, her eyelids began fluttering shut.

“Come along, Ginevra,” a kindly voice said, jarring her out of her thoughts.  She suddenly found a concerned Madame Boucher at eye level with her.  “Are you tired, dear?  There’s a couple more stops but since you came early, we can go tomorrow if you want.”  When Ginny didn’t answer, she sighed and pulled her to her feet.  “We’ll head back to the palace and get you settled into your new room, but first you need to leave this shop.”  She absently plodded out the door, stopping when her feet hit the now familiar cobblestones.  Her arm was being tightly grasped, then she was gasping for air as she was forced down a tight tube.

“First time Apparating, hmm?”  Madame Boucher seemed determined to carry on a one-way conversation as she half carried Ginny down a gravel path.  “It’s always a bit rough the first time, but you’ll get used to it.”  They stopped before a large wooden door, which she pressed her palm against and whispered a password.  “Even if you discover the password for the outer doors, you won’t be able to get back in without a professor,” she warned as she ushered a listless Ginny through the doorway.  “Normally I’d walk you back to your room, but I really think you need to lie down, so I’ll have a house-elf bring you there.  Poissee!”

A well-cared for house-elf wearing a dark purple tea towel embroidered with silver appeared.  “Oui, madame?” it squeaked, bowing deeply.

“Amenez Mlle Weasley à sa pièce svp. Elle sera servie le dîner là en une heure.”

The house-elf bowed again, before grasping onto Ginny’s wrist.  There was a sudden crack and Ginny noticed a change in scenery, but most notable was the large, comfortable looking bed.  Not bothering to change out of her clothes, she dropped her heavy cloak on the ground and collapsed onto the bed before falling into a dreamless sleep.

 

 

Chapter 4

Ginny awoke with a start in a room she didn’t recognize.  She panicked at first, but then realized that she must be at the palace of L’Academie des Sorcieres.  Pale winter sunlight was streaming in the narrow windows on the wall to her right, dancing on the grey stone walls which were neither rough nor smooth.  She looked down and realized the bed that she had slept in was larger than her bed at the Burrow, yet still smaller than her parents’ bed.  It was covered in crisp white sheets and a heavenly dark purple comforter.  She clutched at the comforter as she sank back into the pile of pillows and noticed that everything seemed – feathery.  There was a featherbed underneath the sheets, the comforter was stuffed with feathers, and the pillows she was leaning against were plump with yet more feathers.  She giggled as she imagined a gigantic flock of bald birds flying into her room, squawking about the loss of their feathers.

After sighing contentedly, she glanced around the rest of the room.  The very narrow windows were set deep into the wall: the sill must be at least a foot deep while the windows had to be less than a foot wide.  The glass separating the warmth of her room from the chilly air outside was wavy and colorful.  There was a heavy wooden door to her right that she presumed led out into a hallway.  A large wooden desk stood in the corner of the room with a rather uncomfortable looking chair, and a sturdy bookcase.  Grimacing, she finally noticed a wardrobe next to her bed, so she hopped out of bed in the hopes of getting dressed for the day.

As soon as her feet hit the floor, she let out a shrill yelp.  The floor was made of the same stone as the walls and very cold.  Glancing down, she spied her shoes that she had had the good sense to kick off before collapsing into the bed the day before.  She slipped them back on, flinching at their chill, then walked over to the wardrobe.  She pulled out a lovely pink and grey plaid robe and a matching grey cardigan.  She loved the cardigan that went with this robe since it allowed her to wear it in any weather and the cardigan itself was much nicer than the jumpers her mother made everyone at Christmas.  She yelped again as she shed her pajamas and the cold air hit her skin, so she quickly put on some underwear before getting into the robes.

Once she was dressed, she walked over to the bookcase and examined the books she had gotten yesterday.  All of the books were in French, which she was still struggling to read.  Thumbing through them, she was very glad to see that they contained very useful images in addition to pure theory.  She had always tried to read through her brother’s books, but found them to be very boring.  These had pictures on how to correctly stir a cauldron for a particular potion and the proper wand movements for spells.  She finally settled on reading the etiquette text.  She had just decided to give up on reading for the moment and see what was outside of her room when she heard a knock at the door.

She stood up, smoothing imaginary wrinkles from her new robe, before approaching the door.  She opened it a crack, peering out and saw a dark blue eye peering back at her.  She jumped back, not letting go of the door handle, thus causing the door to spring open.

“Oh, good, you’re up,” Madame Boucher’s voice floated into the room.  “I trust you slept well?”

Ginny turned and saw the tall woman standing in the doorway.  “Yes, thanks.  I’m sorry I fell asleep on you yesterday.”

Madame Boucher waved her hand dismissively.  “No worries there, Ginevra.  All incoming students are assigned an advisor and all of my other students are still with their families, allowing us plenty of time to get you settled in.” She pulled out her wand and began waving it about and suddenly there was a small round table and two upholstered dining chairs in the center of the room.  “I’ve already arranged for the House-Elves to send us breakfast up here.  It’s not a normal occurrence so I don’t advise getting used to it.”

Ginny’s mouth began watering as food appeared on the table.  She grabbed a chocolate filled pastry and began stuffing it in her mouth but a hand caught her wrist and forced her to put the pastry back on her plate.

“Ginevra,” the older woman scolded.  “Try to breathe while you eat!  Here, watch me.”  She picked up another one of the flakey pastries delicately, raised it to her mouth, and took a small bite.  She placed it back on her plate while she chewed and savored the pastry then picked it back up and repeated the process after swallowing.  Ginny was amazed: not a single crumb was out of place during the entire procedure.

“You don’t want to act as if you haven’t eaten in a month,” Madame Boucher lectured.  “Enjoy your food, the house-elves are very good at what they do so eating should be enjoyable.  Savor the texture and flavor of the food before you swallow it, that should slow you down so you eat at a lady-like pace.”

Ginny opened her mouth to inform her that she had grown up with six very hungry older brothers and she had never had a chance to savor her food, but thought better of it, closing her mouth and nodding.  She picked up her pastry again, grimacing as flakey crumbs dusted the plate, raised it to her mouth, and took a bite.  She was surprised at the flakey, butter texture of the pastry contrasted with the smoother, harder texture of the chocolate.  Her eyes widened in surprise as she placed the pastry back on her plate.

“Much better,” Madame Boucher said, watching her in satisfaction.  “It takes practice but keep remembering to do that and you’ll be all set.”

 

-----

 

Several hours later, they were back on the cobbled street in the wizarding section of Paris.  Ginny had just gotten several cauldrons and a number of stirring rods from the apothecary and she was at a loss of what else she needed to get.  Madame Boucher wasn’t letting on as to where the next stop was, she was telling Ginny about how it was her responsibility to keep her cauldrons in good condition and to keep track of which one was needed for classes.  Apparently the materials of the cauldrons and stirring rods affected how potions were brewed, something her brothers had never bothered to tell her.

“…But yes, I had been trying to brew a spot remover potion in my copper cauldron and it was still brewing when I needed it for class.  I decided to bring my pewter one along, but it turned out we were brewing a Strengthening Solution that day, which expands rapidly if not brewed in a copper cauldron!  Ah, here we are!”  She steered Ginny into a shop on their left.

Once Ginny’s eyes had adjusted to the blindingly bright light in the shop, her jaw dropped in amazement.  There were shelves upon shelves of shoes as far as the eye could see.  All the shoes within her sight were pretty, dainty little things, nothing like the sensible, laced up leather ankle boots she had always worn.  She had never had new shoes of her own either: her brothers shoes never fit her so her mother would take her down to the second-hand shoe store in Diagon Alley and purchase the most sensible, boring, cheapest, and easily reparable shoes she could find.  Sometimes she wished that she could fit into her brothers hand-me-down shoes because some of the shoes had a stench in them that even the strongest charms could get rid of.  If she had to have stinky, old shoes, she’d at least like to recognize who the stench belonged to.

“Hmm, I don’t suppose you’re used to wearing heels?”  Ginny shook her head.  “Well, the uniform shoes are required to be one inch high for your first year and they will increase in increments of one-quarter of an inch every year following.  Let’s look for your everyday shoes to have heels between half an inch and three-quarters of an inch.”  She strode off down the long aisle, elegant robes billowing out behind her.  Ginny walked quickly to keep up with her, gasping at the variety of shoes she passed.  They finally arrived at a section with considerably duller colors than the bright yellows and aquamarines at the front of the store.  Most of these shoes had shorter heels that Ginny felt that she might be able to walk in if she took care.

Moments later a shopkeeper came running up to them.  “Madame Boucher,” he said with a slight bow.  “Comment est-ce que je peux vous aider?”

Madame Boucher raised her eyebrows and looked towards Ginny, nodding slightly.  Ginny’s mouth went dry as she realized she needed to talk to this man.  “Er – Je vuex… chaussures? Pour l’academie.”

“Ahh!  Oui, vous etes arrives au meilleur magasin!  Toutes,” he spread his arms out and gestured to the entire store, “les chaussures ont des charmes parfaits d'ajustement.”  Ginny racked her brain, wishing this man would speak more slowly, but he continued talking at a mile a minute.  “Je suis dans l’atelier.”  He gave them another funny little bow before turning around and briskly walking towards the back of the shop.

“You’re doing much better today, Ginevra,” Madame Boucher’s voice came through the haze in her mind as she still desperately tried to understand what she had been told.  “Your pronunciation could still use improvement and you still need to work on your phrasing: Je recherche des chaussures d'école, sil vous plais would probably have been a better choice.  Nonetheless, you were able to communicate your intentions, which is a step in the right direction.  Now tell me, what did you pick up from what he said to you?”

“Er –“ Ginny desperately tried to clear her mind.  “Something about the shop and a charm on the shoes.”

“Very good!” Ginny dared a peak upwards and saw a broad smile on her teacher’s face.  “Specifically, he said that you had come to the right shop if you wanted shoes and that the shoes here have perfect-fit charms on them.”  When Ginny’s mouth gaped open, she continued.  “Please close your mouth, Ginevra, no one else wants to see your tonsils.  Yes, I know how expensive perfect-fit charms are, but it’s a requirement so that we don’t have to come back every time someone has a growth spurt.”  She leaned a little closer and whispered conspiratorially, “I personally think whoever made the silly rule just didn’t like shopping.”

 

-----

 

Several hours later, they emerged from the shop, having bought half a dozen pairs of new shoes.  There was the standard school shoe, two pairs of low black heels for winter wear, sandals in black, brown, and cream, and a pair of fuzzy slippers for the chilly mornings..  She clutched Madame Boucher’s arm as they Apparated back to the palace, just in time for lunch.  She gasped in surprise when they reached the palace.  She had seen it yesterday, to be sure, but she had been more asleep than awake and hadn’t been too concerned about taking in her surroundings.  Today they seemed to have arrived at a different entrance, since she was certain that she would’ve noticed the heat and humidity of the greenhouses they were currently standing in.  She desperately wanted to take off her shoes and socks and wriggle her feet in the damp earth while breathing in the heavy fragrance from the surrounding flowers, but she knew that wouldn’t be allowed.  After pausing to take a deep breath, she hurried after Madame Boucher.

They were walking briskly along a stone path in the greenhouses when there was a sudden rumble of thunder.  Ginny, startled, stopped and squinted around, noticing dark clouds swirling behind her in the impossibly high ceiling of the greenhouse.  “Merde,” Madame Boucher hissed, frantically thrusting her wand out in front of her.  A large burgundy umbrella appeared in mid-air, which she caught, unfurling the fabric while beckoning Ginny towards her.  Once she was safely under the large umbrella, she was assaulted by her teacher’s wand.  “There,” she said grimly.  “I’ve cast Impertuble charms on the two of us so we won’t get drenched to the skin.  We must hurry though, these pathways become streams during the weekly storms.  I had forgotten today was a thunderstorm day.”

Ginny nodded, quite terrified, and began to jog so that she could remain under the cover of the umbrella.  Moments later the rain hit with ferocity she had never seen, even during the harshest of summer storms.  They broke out into a run as the water began lapping at their feet.

Finally, after what seemed hours but really was only a few minutes, they approached a heavy wooden door.  Madame Boucher thrust the umbrella into Ginny’s hands as she placed a hand on the door and began whispering frantically.  Finally, she grabbed the handle and threw the door open, pushing Ginny inside and all the while vanishing the umbrella.

“I’m terribly sorry about that,” she said, brushing a wet tendril out of her face.  While Ginny was bone dry, her teacher clearly paid less attention to the strength of the charms she placed on herself.  The hair on the left side of her head was soaked and there was a curious, perfectly round, circle of damp on the front of her robes.  “I forgot that today is Friday.  Since there are no lessons on Friday afternoons, there’s a scheduled thunderstorm in the greenhouses during that time.  The other afternoons simply see a soft rain shower that doesn’t interfere with lessons.  We should be able to see it through these windows.”

Sure enough, there were large windows looking out onto the greenhouses.  The path they had been walking on moments before was now a tumultuous stream.  “It’s ingenious, isn’t it?” Madame Boucher continued softly.  “The paths turn into aqueducts during the storms.  You haven’t seen them, but the far end of the greenhouses is arid and never gets any rain.  All of the water there comes from these weekly storms and is brought by the paths.”

“How tall are they?”  Ginny asked.  “I couldn’t see the top of them and the clouds were much higher than I thought they’d be.”

“The top is level with the top of the palace, so six stories.  The apartments above us are the most coveted by the faculty since the windows can be open year-round.  Rumor has it that I’m slated to get one next year when Madame Vizzolli retires, but we’ll see.  Come now, let’s go see what’s for lunch.”

 

-----

 

The dining hall was very different from what Ginny had heard the Great Hall at Hogwarts was like.  There were many round tables, each seating eight people, with a very large oval table in the center of the room where all of the teachers sat.  The tables were made of a dark, highly polished wood and the chairs had deep purple, velvet cushions.  There were a few other girls who looked about her age sitting at one of the tables.  Madame Boucher steered her over to this table and introduced her.

“Ginevra,” she said to the girls, pointing at Ginny.  “Helena,” she pointed at a girl with wavy blonde hair, “Isabella,” a girl with very thick, curly black hair with bluish highlights, “Olga,” a girl with pin-straight chestnut hair, “et Sophia.  Bon appétit!”

“Bonjour?”  Ginny said meekly as she sat down.  The purple cushion on the chair was truly heavenly, she decided.  She’d have to write a letter to Fred and George about how she could go about sneaking one of them up to her room.

“Bonjour,” the girl introduced as Helena responded.  “Je suis Lena, je n’aime pas Helena.”  She wrinkled her nose.

“Je n’aime pas Isabella,” the black haired girl commented.  “Je suis Isa.”

“J’aime Olga,” the chestnut haired girl huffed.

Sophia laughed.  She and Olga looked to be identical twins.  “Mere est Olga,” she whispered loudly.  “J’ai le meilleur nom des deux de nous.”

Everyone laughed at that and Ginny began eating.  The food was strange to her, but still palatable.  There were little baguettes no longer than her hand that she finally decided to stuff with cheese, similar to her lunch the previous day.  After she had finished her sandwich, she decided to try talking to the others again, who were remarkably quiet.

“Je suis –“ she screwed her nose up trying to recall the proper words, “Englis?”

“Angleterre,” Olga corrected her.  “Nous sommes le Pologne.”

“La Pologne!”  Sophia shouted gleefully.  “Vous avez obtenu quelque chose fausse pour une fois!”

“Qu'est-ce que?”  Isa said, frowning.  “Je suis L’Espange.”

“Je suis Deutschland,” Lena said, shrugging.  “Je deteste le francais nom pour Deutschland,” she added as Olga opened her mouth.

“Ah, bein.”  A teacher Ginny didn’t recognize came over to the table, placing her hand on the back of Isa’s chair.  “Tu es prêt, Isabella?”

“Oui,” she said, getting out of her chair.  “Bonjour!”

Ginny frowned, wondering where she was going, before she smelled Madame Boucher’s perfume.  “Are you ready to return to your rooms, Ginevra?”

“Oh, yes,” she said, as she scraped her chair back against the stone floor.  “Bonjour!” she said, waving to the others as she left.

“So this is the start of the immersion program,” Madame Boucher told her as they began walking up a beautifully crafted stone staircase.  “I’m still going to speak to you in English when we’re along a little while longer, but when you’re with the others, French is the only common language amongst you so you’ll be forced to speak it.”

“The other professor –“

“That would be Madame Nilsson, the Herbology professor,” Madame Boucher informed her.

“Right, she spoke to Isa in French, right?”

“Isabella is from Spain.  Spanish is very similar to French and the immersion program was optional for her.  She wisely decided that she would be better off having a full grasp of French by the time she began taking lessons.”

“I couldn’t understand half of what Olga and Sophia were saying either,” Ginny stated glumly.

Madame Boucher laughed.  “They’re twins, Ginevra, highly competitive twins at that.  While you began studying French from your primers solely for the purpose of school, they began learning it as a competition.  Olga typically flaunts her large vocabulary while Sophia nitpicks her grammar.  They also began speaking to each other solely in French months ago whereas you had no one to speak it with.  You’re in the same boat as Helena, you aren’t alone.”

Ginny walked along quietly, barely noticing the beautiful marble busts swiveling around the hallway to remark at her magnificent hair color.  She barely paid attention to the lecture on the importance of the busts, what famous painting that was on the wall, or the magnificence of the inlay charms used to add the delicate strands of silver to the dark woodwork.  She nearly ran over Madame Boucher when she stopped in front of a richly decorated archway.

“Ginevra, pay attention,” she scolded.  “As I was saying, this is the dormitory for your year.  There are six of you, so two of the bedrooms have been sealed off.  The door in the center is the entrance to the lavatory.  Now, you have the afternoon to get settled into your room: all of your packages should have arrived by now.  I’ll come pick you up later to make sure you don’t get lost on the way to dinner.”  Her eyes twinkled at this and Ginny suddenly realized that she hadn’t been particularly sneaky in not paying attention.  She had the grace to look sheepish and stared resolutely at her scuffed black boots.  When she looked up she realized she was alone in the hallway, so she trudged over to the door marked Ginevra Weasley and pushed it open, resolving to spend the entire afternoon studying her primers.

 

-----

 

Translations

Comment est-ce que je peux vous aider? – How may I help you? (This is a translation from Babelfish, I think a rough translation is How is it that I may help you?)

Je vuex… chaussures? Pour l’academie – I want… shoes?  For the academy

Ahh!  Oui, vous etes arrives au meilleur magasin – Ahh! Yes, you have arrived at the best shop.

Toutes les chaussures ont des charmes parfaits d'ajustement – All the shoes have perfect-fit charms

Je suis dans l’atelier – I am in the workshop

Je recherche des chaussures d'école, sil vous plais – I look for school shoes, please

Merde – shit

Je suis Lena, je n’aime pas Helena – I am Lena, I don’t like Helena

Je n’aime pas Isabella, je suis Isa – I don’t like Isabella, I am Isa

J’aime Olga – I like Olga

Mere est Olga, J’ai le meilleur nom des deux de nous – Mother is Olga, I have the best name of the two of us

Je suis – Angleterre, Pologne, Espagne – I am England, Poland, Spain

Vous avez obtenu quelque chose fausse pour une fois – You got something wrong for once!

Qu'est-ce que – What is it (Thanks slythheadgirl!)

Je deteste le francais nom pour Deutschland – I hate the French name for Germany

Tu es prêt, Isabella – Are you ready, Isabella

 

Chapter 5

Ginny flung the door to her dormitory room open as she made a beeline to her soft bed. It was mid-August and the cooling charms cast around the palace were weakest near the dormitories so she was sweltering in her school robes.  Ginny had just finished taking her Arthimancy and Pre-Calculus final exams, the last for the semester.  Remembering the torturous conversation she had with Olga the previous day where the other girl wanted to go over every answer on the Chemistry exam, she lazily lifted her wand and shot a locking charm at the door.  Blowing a wayward strand of hair out of her face, her thoughts turned to the one thing every fifth year dreaded: career proposals.

L’Academie des Sorceries prided itself on the very unique program it offered for the older girls.  After five years of comprehensive study, each student was required to pick a career path and their sixth through tenth years were spent honing skills needed for them to excel in that field.  Unfortunately, choosing a career path was not so simple as declaring what they wanted to study.   On the day after exams each fifth year was required to make an appeal in front of all the professors as to why they choose this particular path and how their current grades indicated that they would help their success.  Ginny was slated to go from 13:00 to 14:00, right after lunch.

Ginny had an unusual request for further study that was unique, creative, and one she could easily excel at.  She only hoped that she could argue her case strongly enough that it would be accepted to receive the professors approval.  She had loved Quidditch since she was a little girl, constantly begging her brothers to play with her, and had long ago convinced Madame Boucher that she functioned best if she was allowed to let excess energy through flying.  Madame Schulz, the languages professor, had apparently been quite a flyer in her day, so she took Ginny into Paris to buy her a new broom.  After getting over the shock of having a new broom, let alone one of the fastest ones on the market, the two met on Monday and Thursday evenings to go flying over the grounds after dinner.  Ginny was getting quite good, literally flying circles around Madame Schulz, and wanted to pursue a career in Quidditch.  However, she knew that this was an impractical lifetime career choice since she would likely be retiring within ten years of the start of her career, barring any injuries.  She had met a friend of her fathers, Ludo Bagman, who had been a Quidditch star in his youth, but his image became more ludicrous the longer he tried to cling to it.  She clearly didn’t want that to happen so she tried in vain to think of other career options that might interest her.

A few months later, she had a stroke of brilliance.  She loved Quidditch, but she also loved clothes.  More specifically, she was slightly annoyed every year when they went out to buy clothes.  Muggle clothes were often cheaper than Wizarding robes, particularly when there was a good exchange rate between Wizarding coinage and the funny paper Muggles used.  At school, all the girls were required to wear robes.  Purchasing Muggle clothing was not an option.  While Ginny appreciated the high quality and the designer names attached to her robes, she never even bothered to pack any when she went home during the Christmas breaks.  Once she was home, she’d quickly slip into her brother’s tattered hand-me-down jeans and t-shirts.  Ginny was the first to admit that the loose, flowing robes were more comfortable in the dead of summer, but jeans and pants were much warmer in the winter.  She really wished the Muggle pant trend would catch on while she was flying because they guaranteed that her knickers would never be visible to the entire world.

Unfortunately, there was a little problem with her plan.  Only the very poor in the Wizarding world ventured into the Muggle world for clothing so there was an associated stigma with Muggle fashions.  While witches had adopted somewhat more modern styles (only a couple of centuries old in the Muggle world) wizards were still clinging to fashions that had been out of date for over a millennia.  Ginny was hopeful that since styles had been updated successfully at some point in time it could be done again.  If she could slowly begin to integrate modern Muggle styles in with Wizarding clothing, it should be eventually accepted.  Surely she wasn’t the only one in their world that had this same thought process.

Heaving a great sigh, Ginny pulled herself off the bed with a Herculean effort and slowly peeled off her uniform robes in favor of a light nightgown.  I’ll think more clearly in the morning once I’ve gotten sleep, food, and caffeine into my system, she admitted to herself tiredly as she slowly plaited her hair.  She flicked her wand at the window, causing the drapes to snap shut, and gave another twist towards her bookcase, sending a book soaring towards her, feebly fanning her face.  Placing her wand on her nightstand, she closed her eyes and fell into a deep, dreamless slumber.

 

-----

 

Shortly after Ginny had seated herself at one of the round tables in the dining hall, she spotted her best friend, Lena, plodding towards her.  She had presented her appeal to become a magical chef to the professors from 11:00 to 12:00, right before lunch.  Reaching the table, she slumped into the open chair next to Ginny.

“That bad?” Ginny asked sympathetically.

“Well, I think I did alright,” Lena sighed as she buttered a roll.  “I emphasized my grades in potions and transfiguration and they seemed satisfied with that.”  She promptly tossed the entire roll into her mouth at once.  “I shu’nt ev ‘ipd bkefst,” she said through a mouthful of roll.

“Lena, that’s disgusting, you’re reminding me of Ron,” Ginny informed her primly, her nose wrinkled in distaste.

“Sorry,” she said, shrugging unapologetically.  “Eat up, I skipped breakfast and that was the hardest part of my presentation.  You should have seen Madame Mancini: I thought for sure she’d have a stroke every time my stomach grumbled.”

Ginny laughed at the thought of their strict etiquette teacher.  Poor Lena always came in last in their class for etiquette lessons.

“Well?  How’d the rest of it go?”

Lena shrugged again.  “Not too rough.  I didn’t bother preparing a speech like Olga did.  She was right before me, you know, and she looked ghastly coming out.”  Ginny chuckled again, thinking of the obnoxious perfectionist.  “Just know your argument and wing it, that’s what I did.”

Ginny sighed and wrung her hands in her lap, resisting the temptation to rest her head on the table.  Madame Mancini had all but given up on Lena but if both girls started blatantly ignoring the lessons she had drilled into their heads she would be sure to swoop down on them.  “I’m just not sure how confident I am about presenting both ideas,” she lamented.

“Then don’t,” Lena said bluntly, viciously hacking a piece of steak to bits.  “It’s not too late to pick one or the other.”

Ginny groaned.  “How many times must I tell you that I couldn’t forgive myself if I only picked one?  I’m a damn good flyer, you’ve seen me, and I’m not about to let that go to waste and live with the regret for the rest of my life.  At the same time, I will live a life full of regrets if I’m stuck being one of those old fuddy-duddies who can only live in the glory days of their youth and refuse to accept the fact that they are decades off their prime.”

“That’s exactly what you need to say!  Just stretch it out for an hour or so,” Lena beamed at Ginny.  Ginny gave her friend an exhausted look before pushing her plate towards the center of the table.  “Oh no you don’t,” Lena said hurriedly, whipping out her wand and flicking it towards Ginny, forcing her to sit upright.  “You are not making the same mistake I did, now eat up!”

 

­­-----

 

Ginny felt that proposing her idea after lunch was a mixed blessing.  She was able to acquaint herself with the room itself before all the professors arrived but her anxious queasiness was not helped in the least by lunch.  The fact that Lena channeled Mrs. Weasley’s spirit during lunch and force-fed her nearly twice as much food as she could eat was certainly only made her queasiness worse.  She conjured a flowerpot to discretely place next to the podium in case her stomach decided to rebel during her appeal.  She tucked it under her arm and approached the door, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind her door before turning the knob.

The presentation room, to her great surprise, was clearly younger than the rest of the palace.  It was shaped in a semi-circle with a vaulted ceiling whose peak was flush with the wall connecting it to the palace.  She counted eleven lofty windows with large panes of glass and hearing her muted footsteps, she glanced down to see that the flooring was aged planks of wood, rather than the cold marble tiles present in the main areas of the palace.  Glancing at the heavy wooden podium at the center of the room, she placed the flowerpot discretely out of view as she examined the room further.

There were no desks or tables, as she had expected, to separate her from the professors.  A line of old fashioned armchairs followed the curve of the room.  While they did not look immediately out of place or ostentatious in the room, Ginny’s eye quickly caught onto the expensive, intricate charms that had been interwoven into the furniture.  The wood remained dark with a high shine that would not be otherwise possible with the amount of light they were exposed to.  The dark purple velvet showed no signs of crushing, fading, or other signs of age.  She had only heard of these types of charms in her readings to prepare her for this presentation, never had she seen them in person.

After her eyes had given the perimeter of the room one last scan, she glanced at her watch and noted that she had five minutes before the professors would arrive.  She quickly transfigured the podium into a full length mirror to give one last check of her appearance.  What good would it do to look a mess while proclaiming one of her goals in life was to revolutionize the fashion industry?

Brushing back a few strands of hair and straightening her robes one last time, she transfigured the mirror back to its original form moments before she heard pops of Apparition as the professors appeared before their apparently designated armchair.  Ginny was envious: the students and the families of the professors were required to walk throughout the large palace, but the wards were specifically tuned to allow professors to apparate from place to place inside both the palace and the extensive grounds.

“We are here at the fourteenth hour of the fifteenth day of the eighth month of the year nineteen-ninety-seven to hear Ginevra Molly Weasley’s plans for her future,” stated the soft voice of the headmistress, which instantly silenced any sounds in the room.  “Please enlighten us, Ms. Weasley.”

Ginny nervously wet her lips and threw a glance at the flowerpot before she began.  “I wish to follow in the same manner as few others who have attended this prestigious school have.  I have not one, but two plans I wish to present.”  Several professors let out small gasps of surprise, but the headmistress gracefully gestured with a lined hand for Ginny to continue.  “As many of you know, Madame Schulz has taken me flying twice a week since my first year.  My love of flying along with my skill has only increased as the years have passed.  Unfortunately, much of flying and the competitive sports world is reliant on youth, which I will not possess forever.  Once I leave the world of professional flying, I would like to enter the world of fashion.  To be more specific, I would like to gradually begin to incorporate Muggle ideas into Wizarding fashion, which quite frankly, is centuries behind what is found in the Muggle world.”

There was a flurry of whispers and movements throughout the room as the professors were clearly surprised at the two vastly different careers.

“Silence, please,” the Headmistress commanded softly, causing all whispers and rustling to cease immediately.  “You do realize, Ginevra, the great responsibility that comes with two career paths?  You will have nearly double the classes as your peers.”

Ginny nodded.  “Yes, Madame, I do.”

“Very well then,” the Headmistress responded, inclining her head.  “Please continue with your argument.” 

”Well, as I just said, I’m getting quite good at flying.  I understand the limitations of why the school cannot have a Quidditch team, however I do play it at home with my brothers.”  Many of the professors nodded knowingly at this, having participated in backyard games of Quidditch or Shuntbumps as children.  “It’s possible that I’m getting ahead of myself, but I am able to keep up with my brothers, nearly all of whom have played competitively at Hogwarts.”

“How do you know they aren’t simply going easy on you, their younger sister?”  Madame Miller, the Transfiguration professor, asked.

Ginny smiled.  “My brothers were expecting and training me to play for my house team at Hogwarts before I came here,” she explained.  “My brother Bill taught me many tricks to make sure I don’t lose the Quaffle, Charlie taught me how to keep my eyes out for the Snitch while staying out of everyone’s way, and my brothers Fred and George taught me how to avoid Bludgers, even when I’m distracted.  I’ll admit that I’m not quite as good as Charlie was at Seeking, but he was offered several professional positions at the end of his sixth year.”

“As you mentioned before, the school does not have a Quidditch team, how do you plan on practicing?  I’m sure that all the charms in the world placed on the equipment would not simulate the same environment that a competitive team could provide,” Madame Schulz pointed out.

“I’ve given that thought as well and I’ve discovered that there is an amateur league nearby, The Bluebirds.  With the permission of the school, I would like to join them to gain competitive experience.”

“That can be arranged,” the Headmistress acknowledged.  “Let us move onto your second career choice, fashion design.  You do realize that your ideas are quite risky?”

“Yes, Madame, I do,” Ginny acknowledged firmly.  “However, I feel that I could create great changes in the world should my idea succeed.  Even if it does not progress as far as I’d like, I still think I will have made a large, valuable impact on the world.”

A large, genuine smile graced the Headmistress’s lined face, the first Ginny had seen in the nearly six years she had attended the school.  “That, my dear Ginevra, is precisely what we hope for from all our students,” she said so softly Ginny had to lean in to hear her.  “Now, why don’t you tell us what it is that you want to accomplish…”

Ginny spent the next forty-five minutes answering questions about her two career choices, growing more confident with each new question and every passing minute that allowed her lunch to digest.  She practically skipped out of the room when she was dismissed and promptly bumped into Lena.

“Well, how’d it go?” she demanded.

“Splendidly,” Ginny answered with a grin.  “I really think that they’ll approve it.  But what are you doing down here?  We get to go home at 7 AM tomorrow!  We need to pack!”

Lena made a face.  “I’m going to bribe a house-elf into doing it this year, honestly. I just want to sit on my bed and watch the ceiling until it’s time to leave.”

Lena’s eldest brother had married a Muggleborn witch who had introduced her to something called television two years ago.  She became enthralled by it and had invented a charm that would morph the grains in her wooden ceiling to her books while her books read themselves aloud.  She claimed that it was nothing like the real thing but would have to do while she was at school.  Ginny absolutely loved watching some of the tales with her.

“That sounds wonderful but I don’t feel like getting in trouble for bribing the house elves,” Ginny sighed.  “I might join you after I finish packing.”

“Great!” Lena beamed at her friend.  “Hurry up, I’ll make spiced pumpkin juice!”

 

-----

 

After spending the night drinking spiced pumpkin juice and watching Pride and Prejudice on Lena’s ceiling, Ginny blearily wiped her eyes and hurried back into her room, moments before Madame Boucher came in and handed her a pair of socks.

“Here you are Ginevra,” she said holding out the socks.  “The one with the green toe will bring you home in –“ she paused to check her watch, “72 seconds.  The sock with the blue toe will bring you back here at 14:00 on September 14.  Make sure you tell your mother I said hello!”

“Thank you and I will,” Ginny promised, taking the proffered socks and sat on her trunk.  “Have a good break, Madame!”

A minute later she felt the familiar tug of the Portkey and after swirling around for another minute, she landed in the kitchen of the Burrow.

“Ginny!” her mother’s excited cry came as she was engulfed in a tight hug.  “How are you?!  Oh stand up and let me look at you properly.  That robe looks absolutely lovely on you!  The Gryffindor in me never would let me buy green robes but that light shade goes lovely with your hair.  Yes, you’re sprouting like a beanstalk just as your brothers did and I’m sure that school feeds you even less than Hogwarts.  Sit down, I’ve made eggs and sausages for breakfast.”

This is home, Ginny thought happily as her mother began fussing over her and piling her plate with food.

 

 

 

Chapter 6–A New Law

 

MAY 15 2002

 

NEW MARRIAGE LAW ENACTED BY MINISTRY

A Ministry spokesperson held a press-conference late last night.

“It has come to the attention of the Ministry that more and more magical children being born are, well, not magical.  Many in the Ministry believe this to be the result of breeding with Muggles and we must stop this practice immediately.  Purebloods may only marry purebloods, half-bloods may only marry half-bloods, and Muggleborns may only marry Muggleborns.  Since our numbers dwindled drastically in the recent years due to civil war, we have also decided to make marriage compulsory for witches of child-bearing age and at least two offspring must be born to the couple within the first 5 years of marriage.  The punishment if these conditions are not met is for the witch or wizard’s wand to be snapped in half.  Furthermore, for a fee, a witch or wizard can view a list of all eligible partners which includes a lengthy personal record of individuals in addition to personal photographs.  If someone particular catches your fancy, it will be possible to have a marriage contract drawn up between the two, even without the other parties consent.  We hope that these additional features will increase the coffers of the Ministry such that we will not be forced to raise taxes to pay for the ongoing reconstruction from the previously mentioned civil war.  Thank you and good night.”

As he stepped down from the podium, many people were far too busy trying to process this new law to ask many questions.  As a result, we at the Daily Prophet have convinced him to come to a private meeting tonight and answer individual questions.  Please owl any questions, comments, or concerns you have about this new law and we’ll select the best of the bunch to ask him tonight!

 

Draco placed his teacup back on the table and barely restrained the urge to bury his face in his hands.  Both his parents had greatly influenced and supported this law as it went through the Ministry of Magic.  He briefly wondered why his father didn’t actually work in the Ministry: he had more than enough money to buy a comfortable, influential position in the upper ranks without actually soiling his hands running for the position of Minister himself.  He had spent the year after Draco’s graduation from Hogwarts teaching him how to run the family business, Malfoy Holdings, before officially retiring.  Nowadays he could be found lounging under canopies in his mother’s gardens alternatively studying the Dark Arts and finances when not meddling around in the Ministry.

Draco’s job as the head of Malfoy Holdings was actually quite easy.  It was a figurehead position with just enough work to make sure his subordinates didn’t have complete control.  It had been like this for generations and appeared to work quite well as the Malfoy family had amassed quite a sizeable fortune.  Unfortunately, he still was required to be in his office from 8:30 AM to 4:30 PM every weekday.  He had tried to push the limits of this the first few weeks after he took over the company, but his father came into his bedroom every morning, roaring at him to get up and how such things build character.  Finally, a well placed Stinging Hex had convinced him that he would be in his office at 8:30 AM sharp every day. 

Unfortunately, he was still not ready for surprises such as this to be handled at 7:30 AM.  Couldn’t one of his parents at least given him a heads up that this would be officially passed and in today’s paper?  Just because he knew it was coming didn’t mean that he was prepared for it.

“You’ve seen the paper then?”  Lucius Malfoy’s cold drawl came echoing across the dining hall.  Draco nodded glumly, grasping his teacup once again, hoping that if he got more caffeine in his system this would all be passed off as an awful dream.   As he did, he noticed his father’s spidery hand reach out and take the paper from his spot at the head of the table.  “Hmm… going to have to speak to old Fysbutts about that, they must’ve changed that clause last night.  Why wouldn’t he have told me?”

“So it’s official then?” Draco asked glumly, staring at the bottom of his now empty teacup.

“Hmm, quite,” came his father’s familiar drawl from behind the paper.  “You may have the day off; I imagine your mother will want to drag you down to the Ministry to choose a wife.  Since you haven’t told us about seeing anyone then anyone you have been seeing is completely unacceptable, do you understand?”

“Yes,” Draco replied, motioning the teapot to refill his teacup while he pulled an Invigorating Draught out of his pocket and added it to the fresh tea.  This really was much too early in the morning to be dealing with this sort of thing and he really was too busy with work to even think of entertaining a female companion.  Figurehead my arse.  The only way it’d be a figurehead position is if I blindly signed every form that came into the office, but that would be ludicrous.  Taking a gulp of tea he instantly felt the potion take effect.  It was not a moment too soon.

“Lucius!  Lucius!  Have you seen the paper?” his mother gasped as she ran, yes ran, into the dining hall.  Draco barely managed to keep his jaw off the floor and was certain he would not have been able to manage that feat had he not just taken the Invigorating Draught.  He hastily gulped at his tea again.

“Yes, Cissy, I even managed to keep some sense of decorum while I read it,” Lucius drawled, clearly amused at his wife’s highly unusual antics.  He doted on his wife as much as he was harsh on his son.  Narcissa could do little wrong, or at least excusable, but Draco must always strive towards perfection in his eyes. 

“Oh, you, you never get excited over anything,” she sniffed, waving a hand in his direction.  “Oh, good morning, Draco darling!  I suppose you have read the paper as well?”

“I have, Mother,” he said, calmly until she floated over towards him, peppering his forehead in kisses, causing him to look up in alarm.  “Mother, are you feeling alright this morning?”  he demanded, wiping the stray lipstick from his forehead and unfortunate eyelid.

“Of course I am!” she said indignantly.  “A mother has a right to be excited, does she not?  It’s not every day she gets to help her son choose a wife!”

Draco groaned inwardly.  “Of course, Mother.”

She beamed at him, patting his shoulder.  “Would you like to join us, Lucius?” she asked sweetly.  Draco smirked to himself, this was a surefire way to cause his father to lose his cold demeanor and scamper out of the room without a second glance back.  His prediction was rewarded moments later.

Lucius bolted up from his chair, breathing in half his cup of tea in the process.  “No, no, I’m fine,” he managed to get out between coughs.  “Must be getting into the office since Draco won’t be going in today.”

She put on a bright smile, calling out, “If you insist, darling!” as he exited the dining hall in only a slightly more mannered fashion than she had just entered it.  “Well then, Draco, it looks like it’s just you and me today.”

Draco gulped.  What on earth had he done to deserve this?

 

 -----

 

Draco suppressed another annoyed sigh.  There were, apparently, 843 eligible pureblooded witches between the ages of 16 and 54 in Great Britain he could choose as a bride.  So far both he and his mother had dismissed 785 potential brides (several simply because neither could bear him marrying a woman older than Narcissa and he quite a few more because they were too young for his tastes) and the Ministry official who had stayed in the room to assist them had fallen asleep hours prior.  Fortunately, their house-elf, Nodda, was permitted in the Ministry and had been able to bring them meals and snacks from the Manor.  She had just finished serving them dessert so Draco guessed it was around 8 PM.

“Oh my,” Narcissa breathed, pushing her dessert plate aside as she looked at the bridal registry once more.  “Graduating this year from L’Academie des Sorcieres, interest in fashion, interest in Quidditch, are you listening to me, Draco?”

“I’m sorry, what were you saying, Mother?” he asked, not looking up from the remnants of the cheesecake he had pulverized on his plate and was currently charming into various shapes and structures.

“I found a suitable woman who enjoys Quidditch,” she huffed.  “I thought that might finally pique your interest.”

Draco’s eyes snapped up.  “Are you serious, Mother?”

“Quite,” she said, throwing him a pointed glare.  She was clearly not pleased that he was more interested in playing with the remains of his cheesecake than paying attention to the task at hand.  “Apparently she plays both the Chaser and Seeker positions.”

This finally had his interest, especially since his mother approved of her enough that she was annoyed at his disinterest.  “What else can you tell me about her?”

“Well,” Narcissa started, treading lightly around the issue she knew he wouldn’t like.  “She’s still in school, but she’s attending L’Academie des Sorcieres.”

“Where?”  Draco asked, confused.  He was sure the major Wizarding schools in Europe were Hogwarts, Durmstrang, and Beuxbatons.  This school sounded very French and very unfamiliar.

“L’Academie des Sorcieres,” Narcissa repeated, allowing herself a miniscule eye roll.  “It’s a highly exclusive school for witches.  Morgana herself attended.”

“Oh,” Draco said, mildly impressed.  “So she’s smart then?”

“I can see the late hour is certainly not improving your reasoning skills,” Narcissa muttered under her breath.  “Well, not necessarily smart.  She’s most likely very intelligent, but the girls are handpicked to attend by a Seer.  She obviously has some important role, visible or not, in society.  There are several volumes in the library on the history of the school, I can have them sent to your room tomorrow.”

“Er, no, that’s quite alright,” Draco stammered.  The long day coupled with the early morning was not boding well for him.  “Er, if she’s still in school, how old is she?” 

“It says here that she was born on 11 August 1981, so that’d make her 20 right now, just a year younger than yourself.”  Seeing her son’s interest, Narcissa glanced sharply at him.  “Would you like to see her page?”

“Yes, Mother,” Draco asked in a rather bored fashion.  He did have to pick a bride after all and this one seemed alright so far.  He just hoped she didn’t appear to be related to mountain trolls as the last two girls interested in Quidditch had been.  His hopes were a bit higher, seekers generally had a small, light build and the two other girls had been beaters.  “What!?  NO!  Since when did Weasley have a sister?!”

Chapter 7 – Breaking the News

 

Ginny woke to sunlight filling her small, lavender room.  ‘Purple is the color of royalty,’ Madame Boucher had instructed in her very first class here. ‘You, my dears, can never be anything less than the Muggle dynasties of old.  Therefore, our school color is purple.’  As she stretched, her one graceless action of the day, Ginny noticed one of the small, silvery school messenger owls sitting patiently outside her window.  Rising from her bed, she opened the window to retrieve the letter.  After a gentle hoot, the owl flew silently back over the grounds. 

Ginny took the letter and placed it down at her desk, breaking the wax seal before carefully murmuring a flattening charm at the parchment. 

 

Ginevra,

I must speak with you on a matter of the utmost importance.  Please come to my office as soon as you are ready for the day.

Jeanne Boucher

Deputy Headmistress

 

Ginny had grown quite used to the professor’s short, nondescript epistles after ten years.  ‘A matter of utmost importance’ could be anything ranging from the tea stain on her robes to the announcement of her father’s death.  She had heard from her family the previous day and there was no mention of anyone being in ill health, so she assumed it was more in line with the former.  She dressed quickly, donning her deep purple day robes, and hurried off to see what the fuss was about.

 

-----

 

“Come in,” a soft voice responded to her knock at the door.  Ginny walked gracefully into the room and gently shut the door behind her.

“Please, my dear, do take a seat.  Would you care for coffee?”  Professor Boucher inquired.

“Please, thank you,” Ginny smiled.  She was missing breakfast this morning to attend this meeting and caffeine at the very least should get her through the morning classes until she could get sustenance at lunch.  The professor placed two steaming cups of coffee on the desk then looked at Ginny very gravely.

“First, it might be best if you read this.”  She handed Ginny a newspaper clipping from the Daily Prophet dated two days prior.

“W-what?!  They can’t do this!”  Ginny cried, her voice rising dangerously after she finished reading the article.  The look on her face was one of stunned, indignant fury.  “I’m not even in the country, this doesn’t affect me, right?”

“I’m afraid it does concern you.  We received a notice yesterday morning that you are required to marry a Mr. Draco Malfoy.  While we were able to convince them to hold off on your marriage until you completed your studies, there is nothing more we can do.”  She sighed heavily.  “Sadly, this is only a place of learning, not a fortress.  The magic in these walls protects its students, but once you graduate, you are no longer protected.”

“But – how?  Why would the Ministry even think this is a good idea?  That whole idea of reducing Squib births is simply ridiculous -” Professor Boucher held up a hand to stop one of Ginny’s infamous tirades.

“Yes, we know the logic is fundamentally flawed.  That, however, is nothing more than a cover story to push the Ministry officials own corrupt agenda.  You see, while the Dark Lord was defeated nearly five years ago, the defeat was merely a small deterrent to his loyal followers with a single mindedness towards blood purity.  They’ve managed to either take influential positions in the Ministry or they’ve bribed enough officials to have the same effect.”  She pursed her lips, clearly finding the situation very distasteful.  “After pressing for specifics, I managed to get a copy of the actual law on Ministry records.  What is written in the article only applies to half-bloods: Muggleborns are indeed expected to have two children within the first five years, but if they do not, they will be banished from the Wizarding community.  Additionally, there is a very subtle difference in their binding ceremony where the Ministry official performs for them that includes a very strong contraceptive charm that lasts for nearly ten years.”

“That’s outrageous!” Ginny fumed.  “They’re purposefully driving the Muggleborns out!”

Madame Boucher’s lips thinned even more.  “It only gets worse – purebloods are expected to have at least five children within the first ten years of marriage.  Much like the Muggleborn binding ceremony, a very strong, permanent fertility charm is placed on the couple.  You will almost certainly have no issues in having that number of children in the limited time frame.”

Ginny groaned, resting her face in her hands.  “You’re sure that there’s no way I can get out of this?  At the rate this seems to be going, I won’t be able to play Quidditch again, not if I’m going to be nearly constantly knocked up.”

Professor Boucher smiled sadly at her pupil.  “Yes, we noticed that too.  As much as you love Quidditch and we all admire your quick-footed strategy, we feel that your efforts this last trimester would be better suited to focusing solely on robe-making.  The headmistress and I have prepared a response to send to the Bluebirds after this had been discussed with you.”

“Yes,” Ginny answered dully.  Her long-term plan had been to play Quidditch professionally and then open her own line of wizarding robes to slowly integrate Muggle styles into the Wizarding world so that they wouldn’t look so out of place in the Muggle world.  Now it seemed that she was going to simply skip the Quidditch part and start her robe business right away.

“Well, I know this is certainly quite a bit to digest, so you have been granted leave from your classes for today.”  The professor stood, placing her hands on the large desk between them.  “I am always here if you need to discuss this – situation.”  Her lip curled in disgust.  “Unfortunately, I must also inform you that while your fiancé will leave you to your own devices while you finish your studies, he will be attending your graduation and will accompany you to the Ministry immediately afterwards for the binding ceremony.”

 

-----

 

Ginny sat at her desk that evening, seemingly not noticing the several sheets of blank parchment sitting in front of her.  She needed to write to the Holyhead Harpies and tell them that, as deeply honored as she was that they wished to recruit her to play Chaser for them, she would be unable to accept  the offer due to her impending marriage.  She also needed to write a letter to her parents to inform them of her upcoming nuptials.  Finally, as twilight gave way to darkness, she turned the lamps in her room on with a swish of her wand and began writing.

 

Dear Madame Morgan,

While I am extremely honored that I have been selected as a Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies, I regret to inform you that I will no longer be able to accept this position.  Unfortunately circumstances beyond my control have arisen that make it impossible for me to retain the position.

Regretfully,

Ginevra Weasley

 

 

Dear Mum and Dad,

I’m sure by now you’ve heard of that dreadful marriage law that the Ministry has put forth.  I will expound my knowledge of it more when I see you in person at my graduation in June, though I’m sure Dad already knows quite a bit about it already. 

Unfortunately, a wizard by the name of Draco Malfoy has obtained a marriage license compelling me to marry him.  I really know nothing of him or his family; would it be possible for you to enlighten me?  I already have a dislike for him because he is forcing this marriage on me, especially since it forced me to respond to Madam Morgan and decline the position of Chaser.  I was so looking forward to being able to play Quidditch professionally and am now incensed even more at this dreadful law.  Anyways, he will be attending my graduation and we will then leave together for the Ministry for the binding ceremony.

I’m looking forward to seeing you at my graduation, even if our visit is going to be severely curtailed.          

Love,

Ginny

 

 

Dear Miss Ginevra,

We regret to hear that you will be unable to play. 

Many of us fear that this new legislation will cause the team to fall into ruin.  Several major sponsors have left us already, sensing the hardships we will face in retaining players.  Many more will undoubtedly follow.

Sincerely,

Madame Morgan

 

 

Dear Ginny,

Oh my dear!  I am so sorry you got caught up in all this.  When your father and I first heard about it, we had hoped you would have some sort of immunity.  I am sorry to hear it isn’t the case, but at least you’ve been ever so graciously allowed to complete your schooling.

As of right now, you and Ron seem to be the worst affected by this new law.  Poor Ron and Hermione were devastated and have begun living as Muggles.  The law doesn’t apply to witches and wizards who are already married, which is fortunate for Bill and Fleur, though they’re still required to have two children rather soon.  Charlie is the only one exempt since he became a Romanian citizen quite a number of years ago.  While I didn’t agree with it at the time, right now I cannot be more grateful.  Harry raced down to the Ministry and selected a woman to marry, that lovely girl Padma he’s been seeing.  It turns out he was not a moment too soon, as there were quite a few other young ladies (and older women too!) ready to forcibly demand his hand in marriage.

I know your father never liked Lucius Malfoy and your brother never liked his son, though the years have passed since Ron knew him.  He’s stayed mainly out of the papers, rather unlike Lucius at that age, and I think that may show that he’s grown up.  I can only hope this is true, since you’ll be marrying him soon enough.  Your father did hear that Lucius demanded you be taken out of school immediately for the marriage, but Draco was insistent that you finish your schooling.  While I see that as the only viable option, I am glad that he already appears to be sticking up for you, despite the fact that you’ve never met.

Well, dear, I hope you keep your spirits up.  I know how hard it must’ve been for you to give up Quidditch, though really, I imagine the Holyhead Harpies will be out of commission till this silly law passes over.

All my love,

Mum

 

 

Dear Miss Weasley,

My name is Draco Malfoy and I am the one whom you will be marrying in a few short months.  I’m quite glad to hear that you’re pursuing a career in Quidditch, as I’m rather fond of the sport myself.  However, my mother is more interested in your fashion design.  I’m sure you’ll be hearing from her shortly after this as she’s been dying to write you.

I would ask for your hand in marriage, but I rather imagine that should I ask, your response would be in the negative.

Draco Malfoy

 

 

Dear Miss Weasley,

I trust you have already received my son’s letter.  Do tell me if you haven’t, as he promised he would send it out yesterday so I could finally write you today.

I’m quite interested in your ideas in fashion design.  I understand if you’ll want to design your own dress, but it first must be approved by me.  Send me a small, doll sized dress when you have the first draft and I’ll send you my comments on it.

Otherwise, I would very much like to meet up with you before the wedding to assess your wardrobe and see if we need to go shopping for anything.  Please let me know of a suitable date and time for us to meet.

Narcissa Malfoy

 

 

Draco Malfoy,

It is because of YOU and your silly marriage contract that I cannot play Quidditch.  Prior to such occurrence, I had obtained a position on the Holyhead Harpies reserve team, which I was obliged to decline. 

I have indeed heard from your mother.  I shall inform her that I did indeed receive your letter prior to hers.  (Is she always quite so… pushy?)

No, I’m afraid that I would not accept your offer of marriage, though I have resigned myself to the fact that we are to be wed.  I would greatly prefer to actually meet and know a person prior to marrying them.  We’ll most likely know each other for mere minutes before the deed is completed.

Ginevra Weasley

 

 

Dear Mrs. Malfoy,

I have sent along my preliminary dress idea and designs.  It has copious anti-copying charms on it, so it is in your best interests not to spread my work around to anyone’s eyes but your own.  I hope it meets your standards.  I have been studying under Coco Chanel, perhaps you have heard of her?  While she is rather elderly at this time, her eye remains exquisite and I have learned a great deal under her tutelage.  (Her words, not mine.)

I am afraid that not even my family can meet with me during the school year, except under the most dire of circumstances.  It would not be possible to arrange a visit between us prior to my becoming your daughter-in-law.  I will also be expelled should I receive any item other than a letter, so I must implore you not to send any items to me.  I assure you that the school provides quite an ample wardrobe and I am not in need of new, or more expensive, robes.

Thank you,

Ginevra Weasley

 

 

Dear Mum,

I am glad that Charlie and Bill have at least managed to escape this mess.  I am dreadfully sorry to hear about Ron and Hermione, it seems that Harry is the only one who managed a happy ending so far.  How about Percy and George?  You haven’t mentioned them yet.

I do hope you’re right about this man.  I could manage with someone who is mature, possibly even become friends, but I loathe the idea of spending the rest of my days with a bully.  Divorce later really won’t be an option, have you read the full law?  I can’t get around the permanent fidelity and fertility charms.  On the bright side, I’ll get knocked up fairly quickly and given the nature of the marriage, I doubt I’ll be going past the five required children.  You’ll be swimming in grandchildren, Mum, at least you’ll love that.

Love,

Ginny

 

 

Dear Ginny,

I’ve enclosed a letter from Ron; we’ve set up some sort of mail thing so that he and Hermione can send letters to us the Muggle way. You’ll have to ask your father about it since I’m really not sure how it works.  The parchment they use is so strange!  They’ve also been mailing us with only one stamp on the envelope, apparently one is quite enough.

Percy was engaged to a lovely girl, Penelope Clearwater, but she’s Muggleborn.  However, since Percy is so high up in the Ministry he’s been appealing to have them still quietly wed.  It seems to be working in his favor right now, although it would be a purely private marriage: any children would be required to attend either Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, or be privately educated and Penelope would not be able to appear at social functions with Percy.  Not at all a life I’d want, Penelope is currently pleading with him to move out of the country after they are married and he’s considering it, though quite torn between his love of country and love of Penelope.

George, well, he’s proposed that he marry himself.  I told him it wouldn’t end well since he can’t possibly have children with himself, but he feels strongly that the law will be repealed before it comes time for him to provide his offspring.  I’m desperately hoping that some lovely young witch snaps him up.  I can barely bear not seeing one of my babies, let alone two.

You seem to be keeping a level head about this catastrophe.  I feel so terribly for you, but I’m afraid the matter is out of our hands. 

Love,
Mum

 

 

Dear Ginny,

Hermione and I have moved in with the Grangers for the time being.  Apparently, Hogwarts isn’t good enough for the Muggle world so we’ve got to sit through all these deadly boring classes and tests.  There are some pretty interesting historical correlations between Muggle history and some of the stuff Binns droned on and on about.  Nothing about the Goblin revolts, sadly enough.

The Grangers are pushing us to go to someplace called Uni after we finish this blasted school work, apparently it’s even more school work, but it gets you a better job.  Muggles have this sport called football that I really like.  It’s got nothing on Quidditch, of course, but it makes due.  I caught onto the rules and plays pretty quickly and I’m something called a “goalie”, which is pretty much the same as a Keeper. I’m hoping to start getting into some minor leagues after I finish this blasted school and use that salary to support ‘Mione and me while she goes to this Uni thing.  (She really wants to go, have you ever seen that girl give up a chance for more homework?  She’s bloody crazy!)

Anyways, it’s been really hard learning how to do stuff without a wand.  It’s incredible what these Muggles have achieved without magic; I’m finally beginning to see why Dad’s so fascinated by them.  Our wands are in safe keeping so the Ministry can’t snap them in two, but they’re under the care of a secret keeper, so I can’t tell you where they are.

I absolutely cannot believe you have to marry bloody Malfoy!  He’s such a git, always calling ‘Mione a mudblood and making fun of Harry and me.  I’d nearly recommend killing yourself, but since I can’t bear the thought of not seeing my little sister again, how about you poison or strangle him on your wedding night?  I’m sure George has some products you can use.  Hermione also says that something called Greek Tragedies have a lot of good ideas as well.

Love,

Ron

 

 

Ginevra Weasley,

Why on Earth would you decline a position on the Holyhead reserves?!  They’re a fantastic team and that’s coming from a Falcon’s supporter.  I know we’ve only got five years to have two children, but I would fully support you playing for three years and then we could both take fertility potions to ensure you have twins before the five years is up.  Please do include me if you’re planning on making huge life altering decisions.

I’m afraid Mother is quite persistent in getting what she wants.  I know that you said that you wouldn’t be able to visit with her, but you should probably expect a visit from her in the coming months.  She’s ecstatic over some robe design you sent her but won’t let me see it.  Apparently you have at least persuaded her that you are a genius at copyright charms.

I am sorry to hear that you wouldn’t want to marry me if I asked you outright.  I am writing to obtain permission from your headmistress to be able to send you a ring, since we are engaged to be married and it would be most appropriate for you to wear my ring.  I am trying to modify the traditional Malfoy setting somewhat since I do not like it in the least, so I am open to any feedback on ring settings that you might prefer.

Draco

 

 

My dear Ginevra,

You should learn that as a Malfoy, nothing is impossible.  I shall meet you for coffee on the twelfth of April at 15:00.  Draco will also be accompanying me as we will be discussing the wedding plans, though I doubt he will have much input.

Cordially,

Narcissa Malfoy

 

 

Mme. Weasley:

Upon close observation of the nuances of the school rules, you are permitted, nay, required, to both receive and wear jewelry bestowed by a betrothed or husband.  Please accept the engagement ring M. Malfoy will be bringing you on Thursday and congratulations on your upcoming nuptials.

Headmistress Nobel

 

 

Mr. Malfoy,

Apparently you got your wish and I will take your ring on Friday.  I would prefer something that does not require feather light charms and I vastly prefer white gold over yellow.  Something small and understated would be most appreciated.  Invisible would be ideal.

The other issues I will discuss with you in person on Friday.

Ginevra Weasley

 

 -----

 

Ginny bit back another sigh of impatience as she waited in the dining hall for the Malfoys to arrive.  Her mother had made no mention of the elder Mr. Malfoy being dead, but he clearly wasn’t coming.  She looked again at the small table produced by the house elves which was now covered in flaky, buttery pastries, steaming hot coffee, and ice cold cream.  Lena, as usual, had force fed her entirely too much food at lunch not two hours ago, so she feared she would not be able to eat a single bite or drink a single sip of coffee.

After a few minutes, she finally heard a noise at the entry to the dining room.

“Le salle a manger, madame et monsieur,” one of the house elves squeaked.

Ginny turned and saw two thin, very blond figures standing in the doorway with one of the house elves, who was currently squishing its nose into the floor.  “Merci,” she said, thanking and dismissing the house elf, who gave her a toothy smile and disappeared with a loud crack.

“Ah, you must be Ginevra!” the woman exclaimed.  “I am Narcissa Malfoy, and this is my son, Draco.”  The tall man beside her inclined his head as his name was mentioned.

“How do you do,” Ginny said politely.  “I usually go by Ginny, though I’m called Ginevra around here.  Please, take a seat.”  She examined the man again and cursed her mother’s genes.  He was at least 6’ and she was a more diminutive 5’3”.  She would need to look up a good charm to prevent neck pain since she’d be straining to look up at him for the rest of her life.

Narcissa began to prattle on about wedding plans and wedding lists as Ginny poured the coffee and offered pastries.  She appeared to imagine something large and grand, while Ginny didn’t want anything at all.  She was very grateful when Draco finally interrupted.

“Mother,” he said.  “I’m not sure that I want anything large at all.  Don’t you agree, Ginny?”

“Oh yes,” she said gratefully.  “I was under the impression it would be a very simple bonding ceremony at the Ministry with just the two of us.”

Narcissa deflated at this news.  “But… the flowers and the gown you’ve begun designing already, Ginny…”

“I’m sure they’ll all look lovely in the wedding pictures,” Draco cut in smoothly.  “However, I agree with Ginny, just the two of us would be best, don’t you agree?”

“I most certainly think that would be best,” Ginny agreed.  “I would find a large wedding to simply be a farce since we hardly know one another.  I also understand that our families don’t get along so I wouldn’t want that to cause any problems.”

“I suppose,” Narcissa said rather faintly, appearing to wilt before their eyes.

“I’ll tell you what, Mother,” Draco said quickly.  “You finish up with the arrangements for the wedding portraits and I’ll also let you plan the honeymoon for us.  How does that sound?”

“I could do that,” she said with a bit of a frown.  “I still don’t approve of this nonsense of not at least inviting family.”

“Yes, that would be a great help, Mrs. Malfoy,” Ginny chimed in.  “I’m going to be dreadfully busy with school and I’m sure Draco is quite busy with whatever it is that he does.  Since we have to be married so quickly,” she shot a glare at Draco, “anything you do would be a great help.”

“I suppose,” Narcissa said again, still frowning.  “However, I don’t want you to have to look back on your wedding as something your mother-in-law organized, I’d like for you both to have some part in this.”

“We will,” Ginny assured her, laying her hand gently over Narcissa’s.  The less involvement she had in this farce of a wedding the better.  “Draco is taking care of the rings and I’m taking care of my dress.  The model I sent you is charmed to update whenever I update so you’ll be sure to see any changes and plan around those.  I am glad to see you haven’t shown it to anyone…”

“How would you be able to tell?” she gasped.

Ginny smiled mischievously, her first real smile of the day.  “Oh, well, you see, my eldest brother is a cursebreaker.  We devised some rather nasty curses for people who go beyond what my copyright allows them to do.  Never being able to find clothes that fit properly, sudden weight gain, and constant garish makeup are just some of the results of doing more than what I permitted with the clothes.”

Draco began choking on his coffee as Narcissa turned whiter than Ginny had thought possible as she ticked off some of the side effects.  “You have no reason to worry, Ginny,” Narcissa finally managed to say.  “Your creation is quite safe in my hands.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Ginny said serenely, taking a sip of her coffee.

“Oh, before I forget,” Draco said, as he pulled a box out of his pocket.  “Here is the engagement ring for you, I did receive permission from your headmistress to give it to you.”

Ginny stared helplessly at the ring.  Not only did she have no desire to wear an engagement ring, it was positively ghastly.  It was so large she was sure it would cover both her pinky finger and her middle finger while it sat on her ring finger.  The center stone was black and the size of a galleon, engraved with what she assumed was the Malfoy crest.  Surrounding it were hundreds of tiny emeralds and diamonds.  It was set in bright yellow gold.

She was shaken out of her horror when she heard a laugh of pure amusement.  “Oh Merlin, you actually fell for it,” Draco gasped out between laughs.

“This is the official Malfoy engagement ring,” Narcissa explained, smiling beatifically at Ginny’s horrified expression.  “Very, very few Malfoy brides have ever chosen to wear it.”

Draco pulled a considerably tinier box out of another pocket in his robes.  “I couldn’t make it invisible, but I do hope you like this one better.”

The second ring was infinitely smaller, consisting of a thin platinum band with a small, flawless diamond and an equally sized and equally flawless emerald held in with swirls of the silvery metal.

“This one didn’t have to be charmed feather light and seemed to meet most of your requirements.  Your headmistress did inform me that if I gave you a ring you’d be required to wear it.”

Ginny sighed.  “She already informed me as well, but thank you, this is lovely.”  She grasped the ring and delicately slid it onto her finger, which molded to fit automatically.  As she did so, she could feel her heart sliding heavily into her stomach.  This was official.  She would really be getting married.

Chapter 8 – The Biggest of Big Days

 

Draco woke to sunlight streaming in through his windows and stifled a groan.  This afternoon he would be marrying a witch he knew only through several months’ of letters and a single meeting and they would be bound together for the rest of their natural lives.  After cursing his fiancée for graduating in the morning rather than the afternoon, he went on to curse the Ministry even more heatedly for forcing him to get married in the first place.  He wasn’t ready to settle down and raise a couple of brats and he was still infuriated at the Ministry for the wording “women of child-bearing age”.  That meant some of the students at Hogwarts were expected to get married and pop out a couple of kids before they even had a chance to graduate!  He had thought they would be exempt, but he had been more than shocked to see the very young, very scared faces in the Ministry book of eligible wives.

Continuing his grumbling, Draco finally got out of bed and headed to the bathroom to take a shower.  He fought the urge to return to dreamland as the hot water pounded on his back.  Finally stepping out from the warm stream, he quickly toweled dry, shivering in the morning’s chill.  Walking over to his closet, he began to ponder what he should wear.  He was going to the graduation at L’Academie des Sorcieres, he was seeing his fiancée, presumably meeting his future in-laws, and then he was getting married.  One would normally think that that would necessitate his finest dress robes, but he was so set against all of the happenings that he had half a mind to attend all the functions in his towel.  Unfortunately, he knew his mother would balk at that idea, so with a heavy sigh and a heavier heart, he pulled out a sleek black dress robe made of feather-light silk.

After getting dressed, Draco began to wonder just how bad it would be to live as a Muggle for the rest of his life so he wouldn’t have to go through with all of this.  Unfortunately, he would never be able to see his parents again and his mother had made sure that that blasted marriage license was in perfect order so neither party could wriggle out of their obligations.  Giving up the last of his hope, he heaved a heavy sigh and twisted on the spot, Apparating to Le Palais de l’Academie des Sorcieres.

 

-----

 

Ginny woke on the day of her graduation and marriage to her wand growing gradually brighter and emitting a beeping sound at an ever increasing volume.  In her fifth year, she had been required to take a course on spell creation and had created the charm herself and kept it a carefully guarded secret.  Looking out her window, she could see that the sky was tinged with pink as the day began.  Ginny arched her back and stretched like a cat before stepping into a shockingly violet bathrobe and heading to the bathroom for her morning’s ablutions.  She smiled upon entering the empty bathroom.  Really, for being at school with the brightest witches her age, they still hadn’t managed to figure out that if they got up early enough they could have the communal bathroom all to themselves.  She chuckled softly to herself and shook her head a bit at that thought: her classmates were really far too obsessed with sleep for their own good.

As she stepped into the room, toothpaste appeared on her small toothbrush, which then leapt into her mouth and began to brush her teeth as she ran a brush through her thick hair.  After the toothbrush had finally popped itself back into its holder, Ginny stepped into the largest of the shower stalls, still delighting in the fact that she had a quiet bathroom to herself with a warm stream of water.  Sighing, she simply stood in the stream, desperately needing this quiet, peaceful solitude to wash away some of the tension that had been building for the past several months.  There really wasn’t anything for her to do, anymore; her fate was going to come regardless of what she did, and now, it was best if she simply accepted the matter and dealt with it the best she could.  Rinsing her hair a final time, she stepped out of the shower, whereupon her bathrobe floated over and wrapped itself around her.  Picking up her wand, she siphoned the remaining water off herself and shot a blast of hot air at her head to dry her hair.

Returning to her room, she sadly pulled out her final project: her wedding robe.  Upon hearing of her upcoming nuptials, her professor, Madame Chanel, had insisted that her final project be her wedding robes.  It really was a beautiful piece of work, one of the best she had ever done.  Rather than choose a stark white that would not complement her complexion, she opted for rough silk in a rather warm, earthy shade of brown.   It had a square neckline and a straight skirt that fell to one inch above the floor so she wouldn’t trip over it.  She made her first daring move away from traditional Wizarding fashions: the robe was sleeveless.

Her favorite part about the dress wasn’t how it looked, but rather a unique charm she had invented for her clothing designs.  While the dress was form fitting and contained no elastic, she was easily able to stretch the fabric, almost as if it were made of putty, as she pulled the dress over her head, but it snapped back to its original dimensions once she ceased adjusting it.  Sitting down at her desk, she propped a large spellbook in front of her, flicked her wand, and the book instantly became a large mirror, effectively transforming her desk into a vanity.  Pointing her wand to a cabinet on the other side of the room, all sorts of cosmetics and hair accessories flew towards her.  She stared critically at the mirror sitting on her desk as hair brushes pulled her hair every which way and makeup brushes darted across her face.

Finally, all the brushes began to slow their movements and after their movements ceased all together, they flew back into the cabinet.  Ginny examined her reflection in the mirror.  All but two strands of hair had been curled and pulled back in a large, delicate looking golden clip, leaving the two straight strands at the side of her face.  The makeup had been applied very subtly and in colors that would clash with neither her wedding robe nor the loose, deep purple graduation robes she would wear over her brown wedding robe.  Sighing resignedly, she made a grand sweeping gesture with her wand, which caused her trunk to open and all of her items in the room to fly into it.  After checking that everything was in the trunk neatly, she bewitched it to become feather-light and shrunk it before hanging it off her hairclip, securing it with a sticking spell.  As a final touch, she reached for the final item on her desk, her engagement ring, which she had delightedly discovered would vanish from view for a few moments when the loose emerald was jostled within the setting.  With one final mournful smile at the room that had been her home for the past eleven years, she walked out into the hallway, never once looking back.

 

-----

 

The six graduates, Ginny, Lena, Isa, Sophia, Olga, and Marie, were lined up in front of Madame Nobel, the ancient Headmistress.  “Now girls,” she said cheerfully, “this is your final day at L’Academie des Sorcieres.  I hope to hear great things about each and every one of you, and, who knows!  Maybe some of you will come back to teach in these hallowed halls or proudly bring your own daughters here.  I wish you all the very best of luck!”

Suddenly, a procession of deep purple robes came floating into the room.  “Now,” she began again, somewhat more sternly this time.  “You should all know by now that the school color is purple.”  Normally this sort of statement was accompanied by a few titters, sighs, or even an ‘Oh, not again,’ as it was repeated quite frequently, but this morning all the young ladies were silent.  “Purple was such a valuable color in days of old because the dye could only be obtained from snails in Tyre.  These robes have not been dyed with inferior inks or charmed this shade of purple: they have been dyed, by hand, in the very dye from those precious snails.  The only way in which these robes have been charmed is that they will always fit you and they will still be in pristine condition millennia from now.  Furthermore, only a graduate of L’Academie des Sorcieres may touch these robes: they will have no substance to anyone else.”

Ginny was stunned at the work that went into making these robes.  She had had a great deal of practice and training in permanent color changing charms and had never once attempted to dye fabric.  She also had little use for ever-wearing charms, because those would almost certainly ruin her business as a robemaker.  Ginny, of course, knew of them and did cast them rarely on certain items, such as her wedding robes or other items of clothing that were of such great value they would be family heirlooms for generations to come.  She was not aware of any charms that could prevent all but a few individuals from being able to grasp the robes as a solid material, but she supposed that Isabella, who had studied jewel crafting with the goblins, most likely knew spells such as those.

Ginny was startled out of her thoughts as she realized the other girls around her were busy adjusting their new robes and casting color changing charms at their shoes.  Sophia had wisely transfigured one of the tapestries into a very large mirror so they could all examine their appearances before they went up in front of all their relatives and other world dignitaries.  Although Ginny normally loved her vivid red hair, it clashed horribly with the deep purple of her robes.  She quickly cast a charm and her hair became a light blonde.  I wish my hair didn’t have to clash with everything, she grumbled to herself.  As the girls had just about finished primping themselves, a deep gong rang out, signaling them to walk out to the courtyard where the graduation ceremonies would take place.

 

-----

 

Draco fidgeted in his chair waiting for the graduation to start and be over with.  To hell with that, he just wished he could wake up screaming any minute now. He’d give anything to not be at his fiancée’s graduation then off to his own wedding in a few short hours!  His mother had taken up her duties in arranging a honeymoon for them, booking a 'lovely' four week honeymoon.  Her brilliant (Draco huffed at this in his head) plan was that the two of them would go off to the Ministry to be wed immediately after the graduation, pop back to the Manor to introduce Ginevra to Lucius and hand them a Portkey that would whisk the newlyweds off to their honeymoon before Lucius could harm Ginevra.  She would then spend the following four weeks softening Lucius to the idea of the marriage, since it was, after all, unbreakable, and his son would be banished from the wizarding world if he interfered with things.  If he was still resisting the marriage after the honeymoon ended, she had sent several house elves to prepare a villa in southern France for her son and her new daughter-in-law.  Draco thought that this was a bit excessive, but his mother knew his father’s moods intimately - and how to handle his outbursts.

Finally, Draco heard a deep gong ring out signaling the beginning of the graduation ceremonies.  He watched with mild disinterest as six girls walked through the very purple garden.  He frowned as the last girl filed out: he was expecting it to be a simple task to pick out which of the girls was his fiancée since she had very distinctive red hair, but not one of the girls had red hair.  He gave this some minor thought before phasing out the rest of the ceremonies while still applauding politely at all appropriate junctures.  He finally snapped out of his reverie as he heard, “Ginevra Weasley” called up to receive her diploma. 

The girl’s hair was not a vivid red, but rather a pale blonde.  He frowned, wondering if she had decided to try and fit in with his family rather than her own, but he knew that wasn’t right.  She was quite independent and he was lucky she was taking the Malfoy name (and only because his mother had explicitly stated it in the marriage contract).  An almighty cheer came from the crowd as the six witches stood in a line with their wands aloft, shooting out purple and silver sparks. 

 

-----

 

“Mum!  Dad!  I did it!” the short blonde girl shrieked, running out towards a middle-aged, red haired couple moments after the ceremony ended.

“Congratulations, m’dear!” the woman cried, embracing the young woman in what must have been a bone crushing embrace.  Stepping back, she held her youngest daughter at arm’s length.  “And just what have you done with your hair, young lady?”

The girl blushed.  “I’m sorry, Mum, it just really didn’t go well with these robes.”  She flicked her wand at her hair, which turned to the vivid red Draco was so familiar with.  She turned to embrace her father, at which point Draco decided to introduce himself.

“Congratulations, mademoiselle,” he murmured, bowing shortly before her.  Looking up, he saw that her previously happy face became filled with a sad resignation.

“Ah, yes… Mum, Dad, meet my fiancé, Draco,” Ginny said politely.

“How do you do?” he asked them, equally politely.  The Weasley patriarch glowered at him.

“I’d be better if my daughter wasn’t being married this afternoon,” he nearly growled.

“I am terribly sorry about that, but you would likely be saying that to another young man now if not me.  Your daughter is quite a beautiful and gifted witch, a stunning combination if I do say so myself.”

“You’re perfectly right and Arthur knows that, he’s just not ready to give up his baby girl just yet,” the plump woman said to him kindly, placing a hand on his arm.  “Just take good care of her for us, heaven knows her Bat Bogey hex is legendary, but you’ll have to deal with me if I hear you aren’t treating her properly.”

“And myself and five older brothers, six if you count Harry,” Mr. Weasley added darkly.

Ginny’s face fell further at the mention of her brothers and Draco made a mental note to ask why that was and where they were later that afternoon.  “I intend to treat her and our children with nothing more than the utmost respect.  Regardless, why don’t we get lunch before heading off to the Ministry?” he said to Ginny, turning to the elder Weasleys.  “You are more than welcome to join us.”

“Thank you, but we really must be heading home,” Mrs. Weasley said, laying a hand on her husband’s arm, noticing that his face had been growing steadily redder as the conversation had continued.  “I’m sorry that we’ll be missing your wedding.”

“You mean signing the final contracts,” Draco said darkly as Ginny shot him a warning glance.

“Really, Mum, it’s not a wedding per say, so there’s no need for you to be there,” Ginny sighed.

“Well then, I suppose we shall see you in a month then,” Mrs. Weasley said, her voice quavering.  She quickly engulfed her only daughter in a tight hug before grabbing her husband’s arm, Apparating them away.

“Where are we Apparating to?” Ginny asked.

“I’ll take you, that’s not a problem.”  Draco assured her.  In one of her recent letters she had confessed that she was quite out of practice with Apparation and much preferred Flooing, even if it was a dirtier method of transport.

“Thank you,” Ginny whispered.

Draco proffered an arm to Ginny, who moved towards him calmly but proceeded to hold his arm in a death grip.   “I promise you won’t lose your eyebrows this time,” he whispered to her, recalling her last attempt at Apparating.  He was rewarded with a hearty thwack on his arm, so he turned on the spot, leaving France behind them.

 

-----

 

As soon as they arrived at the Ministry after a lunch that was less awkward than either had anticipated, Ginny removed her graduation robes and charmed her shoes brown once more.  Draco was forced to admit that she did indeed look stunning as they walked to the appropriate office.  Given the recent turn of events, the Ministry had given the option to simply have papers signed stating the couple was indeed married.  There was a Ministry official to perform fidelity charms on every married couple in addition to the fertility charms on the pureblood couples and the strong conception charms on the Muggleborn couples.

Ginny, having already read and studied the law did not bother reading the papers and simply signed her name to the bottom.  Draco, who had not studied the law but simply wanted to get out of there, and preferably wake up from his nightmare, also simply signed his name at the bottom.  Needless to say, he was quite shocked when the official cast the two charms over the couple.

“What the bloody hell was that for!?” he demanded loudly.  Ginny sighed and pulled at his arm. 

“Those were the fidelity and fertility charms,” she said, quirking an eyebrow at him.

“Why would we need a fertility charm?” he asked aghast.  He was horrified that the Ministry thought that he would have difficulties fathering children on his own, no matter how much he didn’t want them right now.

“Why, to help you have the necessary five children within the next ten years!” the official boomed.  “All those little bundles of joy… you are a pureblood couple after all.”

Draco groaned as he took a closer look at the papers he had just finished signing.

“And the fidelity charm?” he asked sourly.

“Well, they wouldn’t want us to taint the bloodlines with anything other than pure blood, now would they?” Ginny answered quietly.

“I suppose,” he sighed resignedly before turning back to the official.  “Where are the photos being taken?”

“Down the hall, second door on the left,” he instructed before loudly calling out, “Next!”

Draco pulled a small box out of his pocket and Ginny pulled on a pair of cream elbow length gloves as they walked down the hall.  Right before they reached the door, he threw out his arm to stop Ginny.

“Wait,” he said, opening the box.  Inside were two simple platinum bands.  “Can’t have a picture without rings, now can we?”

“I suppose that would upset our mothers,” Ginny giggled, pulling both her wedding band and engagement ring over the glove, praising perfect fit charms as both rings widened slightly to accommodate the extra fabric around her finger.

After spending an hour with the photographer that Narcissa Malfoy had specifically hired, rather than the standard photographers made available by the Ministry, they finally exited the Ministry.

“I suppose we’ve got to go see your parents now?” Ginny asked glumly, squinting into the bright sunlight.

“They’ll want to see us before we head off, yes,” Draco replied, handing her a pair of sunglass he had conjured.  “Mother’s holding the Portkey for us so we have to go see her anyways.”

“Alright then,” Ginny sighed.  “No more Apparating after this.”