Luna sat stunned. “You mean…wow. What can I say, Ginny?”
Ginny shrugged, a blush starting on her cheeks. “You’re one of a very select few that knows the truth.” She looked at Luna’s face, glowing with curiosity. One could always tell when she wanted to ask a question—her eyes got an inquisitive spark to them, probably from having a newspaper editor (even if the newspaper was The Quibbler) as a father. “Is there anything else you wanted to know?”
She gave an excited nod and played with her turnip earrings in anticipation. “If it’s not too bold to ask…did you see any Three-Legged Gorglebunks down there?”
Biting her lip, Ginny tried very hard not to laugh. She could always count on Luna, intentionally or not, to make a dark situation lighter. “I might have seen one, but maybe it was the Toenail of Icklibõgg.”
She struggled for breath. “You mean…THE Toenail of Icklibõgg? Why didn’t you get it? You know of its magical healing properties, not to mention the rumors that it vanquishes evil!”
“Well, erm,” Ginny squirmed in her seat, “I couldn’t really tell if it was, it just kind of resembled it. For all I know,” she gave a nervous laugh, “it could have been just a Sparkling Hoovylump.”
Luna shook her head. “It’s always a close call with that one.” She squinted her eyes in a prideful manner. “I’ve seen at least three Sparkling Hoovylumps in my field experience.”
Any amount of lip-biting could not stop Ginny from giggling.
“What is it?” Luna asked, concerned. She thought that Ginny was crying, not laughing. “Is there something else you wanted to tell me?”
Ginny smiled. “Nothing, Luna. I mean, you’re the only person I’ve told since my first year. Completely voluntarily, I might add. I just—”
Luna shrugged. “It’s ok. I don’t think of you any differently, if that’s what you’re wondering. By the way you acted second and third year, I always figured something tragic happened in your past. Not to mention the gossip in the halls that innocent Ginny Weasley was the killer. I never believed those, though…there was a reporter for The Quibbler who insisted that it was all a terrible plot concocted by Giant Squid. I suppose he was misinformed.” She got a dreamy expression in her eyes, the one that told a person her mind was very, very far away. Ginny, however, was extremely comforted. Luna was a bit offbeat, but she could be trusted and considered a good friend, indeed.
Breaking off their contented silence, Neville entered the library. He stumbled awkwardly to their table, nearly in tears. At the sight of an intensely distressed boy, Ginny’s mood plummeted to gravity and seriousness. He held a note in his hand and seemed like he was trying very hard to control himself.
“What’s wrong, Neville?” Luna asked, concerned.
He didn’t say anything, but pushed a parchment in front of their faces.
Drop out of Herbology or the toad gets it.
Luna took a sharp intake of breath. Ginny furrowed her brow. “Who sent this?” She flipped the paper, examining it. She found no signature, no evidence.
Neville shrugged. “I don’t know. I got it this morning. But—but Trevor has been missing for two days. Who would do this?” On that note, he finally took a seat, resting his head on his arms. Luna absentmindedly patted his back.
“Could you—could you help me find him? I mean,” he raised his head up, “you all are my friends. Right?”
Luna and Ginny bobbed their heads up and down eagerly, perfectly in unison.
Neville nodded distractedly himself. “Thanks. Harry, Ron, and Hermione have more important things than to track down a ransomed toad.”
Ginny’s eyes widened. “They said that?”
“Well, no,” Neville rested his chin on his hand, “but I know that’s what they would think, if I asked them. Despite everything the six of us went through together last year, there’s no penetrating that trio. So I propose we start our own.” With that, his back straightened, and his face was so determined that Draco Malfoy himself probably wouldn’t be able to say no.
“Erm, sure. Anything you’d like, Neville,” Ginny said, giving him a kind smile. Luna agreed.
Neville cleared his throat, “I think our first order of business is to find out who kidnapped my toad.”
Ginny touched Neville’s arm. “Don’t worry about it, Neville. I’ll get to the bottom of this for you, okay? Just worry about that Herbology essay contest coming up.”
Neville Longbottom had the highest marks in the school as far as Herbology was concerned. In fact, if he aced this essay and kept up his good marks, he could be sure of a tidy sum of Galleons connected to a secure occupation in the future.
“Neville,” Ginny said slowly, “I’m going to ask again. Can you think of anyone who would abduct your toad? Anyone?”
Neville, Ginny, and Luna all seemed to come to a realization at the same time. Who else would be cruel enough to do this? “Draco Malfoy,” the trio whispered. Ginny abruptly stood up from her seat, ready to spy on someone who would get his comeuppance.
Paintings, Ginny discovered, are an underused resource in seeking a person. One of a man, who claimed to be a former headmaster, said that Draco had gone to a secret room behind the state of Moogly the Holy. One had to scratch the statue’s head and whisper, “Dogma.” She crept around the corner, followed the painting’s instructions, and surely enough, a door had cracked open. Ginny peered in. Draco wasn’t alone. Lucius Malfoy, who was supposed to be in Azkaban prison, was in the room also. It wasn’t actually him, though—just an apparition that appeared on a mirror on the wall. Nevertheless, Ginny had to clamp a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming.
Draco was pacing. “What do you want, Father? You know communication is dangerous.”
His father’s face was grim. “Of course I know. What do you take me for, a Mudblood? I know how risky this is. But I needed to tell you something before you saw it in The Quibbler or some rubbish periodical like that. Your mother has gone missing.”
Draco stopped pacing. Ginny held her breath.
“What?” he asked quietly.
The elder Malfoy sneered. “You heard me, boy. I’ve still got connections, and they know to tell the public that it’s all rubbish, but in case the truth leaks out somehow, just deny it.”
“Where,” Draco calmly inquired, “did she go?” There was a dangerous tone in his voice that made Ginny nervously nibble her fingernail.
“I don’t know, and frankly, it is not of my concern. Let her off herself, just as long as she doesn’t make too big of a fuss.”
Nodding, Draco added, “I understand.”
At this, Lucius Malfoy presented a very cold smile. “That’s my son. I think the guards…well, they are Dementors, they seem rather indifferent, their version of fond I’d imagine, to me. I doubt they’d care if I ran away, but I’m waiting for the Dark Lord to receive me.”
“That sounds like a good plan,” his son said quietly.
“I’ve got other business in this place to take care of. Goodbye, son.” With that, the apparition disappeared. And much to Ginny’s surprise, Draco’s whole demeanor changed—he suddenly was the epitome of anguish, kicking the wall with a cry of indignation. At that moment, he reminded her of Harry, and it scared her a little bit. She decided that she couldn’t get any clues if she stayed anyway, and planned her attack for tomorrow.
Slowly closing the door, so as not to disturb Malfoy’s tirade, she crept back to the common room. How did Lucius Malfoy, trapped in the most horrifying place on earth since the Chamber of Secrets, manage to communicate with his son? Ginny would have investigated more had she not realized how late it had gotten…it must have been almost seven or so. Classes started again tomorrow (weekends parted with such sweet sorrow), and she needed to study for a Transfiguration quiz. Even though she still had time to go back before she was considered late, Ginny felt that stealth would be in her best interest—not many students traveled to this part of the castle, after all. Wand in hand, she whispered, “Lumos.” It was then that she became aware of a shadow behind her. Ginny froze. Should she pretend that she hadn’t seen this stalker and keep walking, or deal with it face to face?
Embracing her Gryffindor spirit, she confronted it. “Who’s there?” she asked in a firm voice. No one answered, but the shadow stayed.
Ginny lifted her chin. “Fine. But you’ll find that I’ve fought many a Death Eater,” she thought of Luna, “in my field experience. Your loss, I suppose.”
It was clear that whatever was following her wasn’t going to reveal itself, so she opted to keep going on her way. The whole time, she felt its presence, but it still wouldn’t come out. Soon enough, she reached the Fat Lady’s door (“Where have you been, miss?”), and when she got inside, she exhaled a breath of relief.
Ginny suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of drowsiness. She crawled into bed, preparing herself for the dreams to envelop her unconscious once more.
Not surprisingly, she was in the Chamber of Secrets once again. This time, Tom was lying on the floor, hands behind his head, as if he were in a field looking at the stars. “Hello there,” he said softly. He stood up, brushing himself off. Ginny simply stood in fear, as she always did.
Tom reached out and touched her shoulder. “Why this panic, Ginny?” he asked in a falsely kind voice. She couldn’t speak, she was always unable to.
Turning his head, he scoffed. “I bet your people find you incredibly boring,” he said condescendingly, and then his voice softened, “but the more still and quiet you are, the better.”
Ginny merely stared ahead. She felt like one of those patients at St. Mungo’s who couldn’t speak or even move, who just laid in their beds as if they were in a coma, but could still see and hear things, just not respond to them. If Ginny could move, she would have shivered, imagining how terrible it would be to live like that. Or worse, know someone close who was in that state.
Tom started to circle around her. “Poor ickle Ginny Weasley. She can’t do a thing, the miserable coward.” He started to laugh. “Where’s that infamous Gryffindor courage? Or, what, do you expect your precious Potter to save you?”
He slapped her. “Can’t fight back, can you? I always figured you for a pathetic one. Now,” he reached into his robes, “I need to give you something. But before that—”
Tom cradled her head and kissed her brow. An uncontrollable feeling of warmth spread through her, and Ginny hated herself for taking pleasure in it.
“When will you realize, my dear, that I only want the best for you?” he murmured. He stroked her arm. “Ginevra, this is where you belong.”
Like in every dream, he struck her chest with that strange dagger. She crumpled to the ground, hands clutching the hilt. As she slowly sprawled down on the floor, blood forming a pool around her, Tom kicked her.
Ginny awoke. She took deep breaths. Now that she could remember the dreams, there was no way she could go back to sleep. For the rest of the night, she sat in the common room, studying Transfiguration. She knew that the shadow was near her, but this time, she felt an odd sense of reassurement.
She was in the library as soon as it opened the next morning. Ginny sat in silence in an empty table, content with her thoughts. The only other person in the room was Annabelle Marquis, fervently studying Meet My Mimbulus Mimbletonia. Twiddling her thumbs, Ginny waited for breakfast to start. Much to her chagrin, Draco Malfoy sauntered into the library, looking at books in an aisle in the very back. Ginny knew this was the perfect opportunity. Wand in hand, she determinedly stormed over to him. Catching him by surprise, she shoved him against a bookcase and hissed, “Stop harassing Neville or I will ruin your life.”
Time seemed to stop, as Draco and Ginny stared as each other, the tension running deep. Draco pushed her away, a scowl twisting his features. “What in the bloody hell are you talking about, Weasley? Have you not been eating lately? Merlin’s beard, I can give you, say, crumbs from my food if you’d like. I suppose that’s what you’re used to anyway.” He smirked.
Ginny pursed her lips and crossed her arms. “I am not fucking around, Malfoy. Just give Neville back his toad, okay?”
He wrinkled his nose. “Why in the bloody hell would I steal his toad?”
“Because—because, it’s something to do with that Herbology contest. I bet his grades are ahead of yours and you hate him anyway because you’re a mean person and you’re just…you ruin people’s lives, Malfoy!” She started to breathe heavily. He held his hands back in a gesture of surrender. His stance, however, was still highly arrogant.
“Whoa. Somebody has issues. Don’t take them out on me, I’m sure St. Mungo’s has professionals that could help you. Free of charge, I’d wager. And I don’t care about Herbology or bloody Longbottom or you. Could you just leave me alone, Weasley? I don’t know why you find me so irresistible, but the feeling? Is not returned.” He drove her out of the aisle. “I have to get a book, after all. I’m not sure if your people know, but that’s what libraries are for.”
Ginny stalked away, turning her head around to give him one last furious glance.
“Berk,” she muttered, even though she knew he couldn’t hear her.
Malfoy was the most insufferable lad that she’d ever met, which was quite an accomplishment, considering Ronald Weasley was her brother. Luckily for her, it was time for breakfast, and leaving the library, she joined Neville in the Great Hall.
“I got another one,” he cried miserably, brandishing the note. She grabbed it from his hands.
Fail Herbology, drop out, ruin your chances…or you’ll find a toad nailed to your door.
Ginny shook her head. “Who would be terrible enough to do this?” she asked.
Neville shrugged. “I thought you had someone in mind?”
“My first suspect, Malfoy, didn’t do it. What are the details of this Herbology essay thing? Who all is it open to?” Ginny furrowed her brow. She rather fancied this detective-like job, even though it was at the expense of her friend’s pet.
“Fifth through seventh years,” Neville explained. “It’s not open to prefects or Head Boy or Girl, since they kind of have prime opportunities in life in the first place. It’s just for everybody else, I guess. But to get the scholarship, you need top marks in Herbology and a really well-written essay.”
If only I had asked earlier, I could have avoided that whole episode with Malfoy, Ginny thought. But of course, she added mentally, a wicked grin curling her lips, it’s always fun to push him around.
“Now,” said Ginny aloud in a business-like tone, “I’m guessing you had the top marks in Herbology?”
Neville nodded.
“Do you know who had the second-highest marks?” she inquired.
With a sad frown, Neville shook his head. Ginny, on the other hand, grinned.
“This will be easy, I’m sure of it. We’ll get Trevor back soon enough, okay?”
Neville smiled back and her and finally decided to eat. He scooped some eggs onto his plate.
“I heard some people say you were sitting in the common room last night. What were you doing?”
Ginny shrugged. “Oh, I was just—damn, I left my Transfiguration book upstairs! Listen, Neville, I’ll be right back.” With that, she sped towards the Gryffindor Tower.
Sprinting through the halls and greeting portraits, she gave the password (‘superflu’), and entered the room. She found her book, stuffed into a corner of the sofa. She breathed a sigh of relief. Ginny also remember that she had a box of Sugar Quills stored under her bed—she had time to eat a snack, she needed some relaxation anyway. She got a cherry-flavored one (her personal favorite), and started to chew on it when she noticed something in the corner. The shadow. She dropped the candy and walked slowly towards it.
“I know you’re there, whatever you are,” she whispered boldly. The shadow simply stood. She took another step towards it, when she saw something that made her realize what exactly it was.
“Sirius?” she asked, as the shadow came forward, revealing a large black dog. Ginny took a quivering gasp, her hand outstretched. “Is that you?”
Ginny shrugged, a blush starting on her cheeks. “You’re one of a very select few that knows the truth.” She looked at Luna’s face, glowing with curiosity. One could always tell when she wanted to ask a question—her eyes got an inquisitive spark to them, probably from having a newspaper editor (even if the newspaper was The Quibbler) as a father. “Is there anything else you wanted to know?”
She gave an excited nod and played with her turnip earrings in anticipation. “If it’s not too bold to ask…did you see any Three-Legged Gorglebunks down there?”
Biting her lip, Ginny tried very hard not to laugh. She could always count on Luna, intentionally or not, to make a dark situation lighter. “I might have seen one, but maybe it was the Toenail of Icklibõgg.”
She struggled for breath. “You mean…THE Toenail of Icklibõgg? Why didn’t you get it? You know of its magical healing properties, not to mention the rumors that it vanquishes evil!”
“Well, erm,” Ginny squirmed in her seat, “I couldn’t really tell if it was, it just kind of resembled it. For all I know,” she gave a nervous laugh, “it could have been just a Sparkling Hoovylump.”
Luna shook her head. “It’s always a close call with that one.” She squinted her eyes in a prideful manner. “I’ve seen at least three Sparkling Hoovylumps in my field experience.”
Any amount of lip-biting could not stop Ginny from giggling.
“What is it?” Luna asked, concerned. She thought that Ginny was crying, not laughing. “Is there something else you wanted to tell me?”
Ginny smiled. “Nothing, Luna. I mean, you’re the only person I’ve told since my first year. Completely voluntarily, I might add. I just—”
Luna shrugged. “It’s ok. I don’t think of you any differently, if that’s what you’re wondering. By the way you acted second and third year, I always figured something tragic happened in your past. Not to mention the gossip in the halls that innocent Ginny Weasley was the killer. I never believed those, though…there was a reporter for The Quibbler who insisted that it was all a terrible plot concocted by Giant Squid. I suppose he was misinformed.” She got a dreamy expression in her eyes, the one that told a person her mind was very, very far away. Ginny, however, was extremely comforted. Luna was a bit offbeat, but she could be trusted and considered a good friend, indeed.
Breaking off their contented silence, Neville entered the library. He stumbled awkwardly to their table, nearly in tears. At the sight of an intensely distressed boy, Ginny’s mood plummeted to gravity and seriousness. He held a note in his hand and seemed like he was trying very hard to control himself.
“What’s wrong, Neville?” Luna asked, concerned.
He didn’t say anything, but pushed a parchment in front of their faces.
Luna took a sharp intake of breath. Ginny furrowed her brow. “Who sent this?” She flipped the paper, examining it. She found no signature, no evidence.
Neville shrugged. “I don’t know. I got it this morning. But—but Trevor has been missing for two days. Who would do this?” On that note, he finally took a seat, resting his head on his arms. Luna absentmindedly patted his back.
“Could you—could you help me find him? I mean,” he raised his head up, “you all are my friends. Right?”
Luna and Ginny bobbed their heads up and down eagerly, perfectly in unison.
Neville nodded distractedly himself. “Thanks. Harry, Ron, and Hermione have more important things than to track down a ransomed toad.”
Ginny’s eyes widened. “They said that?”
“Well, no,” Neville rested his chin on his hand, “but I know that’s what they would think, if I asked them. Despite everything the six of us went through together last year, there’s no penetrating that trio. So I propose we start our own.” With that, his back straightened, and his face was so determined that Draco Malfoy himself probably wouldn’t be able to say no.
“Erm, sure. Anything you’d like, Neville,” Ginny said, giving him a kind smile. Luna agreed.
Neville cleared his throat, “I think our first order of business is to find out who kidnapped my toad.”
Ginny touched Neville’s arm. “Don’t worry about it, Neville. I’ll get to the bottom of this for you, okay? Just worry about that Herbology essay contest coming up.”
Neville Longbottom had the highest marks in the school as far as Herbology was concerned. In fact, if he aced this essay and kept up his good marks, he could be sure of a tidy sum of Galleons connected to a secure occupation in the future.
“Neville,” Ginny said slowly, “I’m going to ask again. Can you think of anyone who would abduct your toad? Anyone?”
Neville, Ginny, and Luna all seemed to come to a realization at the same time. Who else would be cruel enough to do this? “Draco Malfoy,” the trio whispered. Ginny abruptly stood up from her seat, ready to spy on someone who would get his comeuppance.
Paintings, Ginny discovered, are an underused resource in seeking a person. One of a man, who claimed to be a former headmaster, said that Draco had gone to a secret room behind the state of Moogly the Holy. One had to scratch the statue’s head and whisper, “Dogma.” She crept around the corner, followed the painting’s instructions, and surely enough, a door had cracked open. Ginny peered in. Draco wasn’t alone. Lucius Malfoy, who was supposed to be in Azkaban prison, was in the room also. It wasn’t actually him, though—just an apparition that appeared on a mirror on the wall. Nevertheless, Ginny had to clamp a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming.
Draco was pacing. “What do you want, Father? You know communication is dangerous.”
His father’s face was grim. “Of course I know. What do you take me for, a Mudblood? I know how risky this is. But I needed to tell you something before you saw it in The Quibbler or some rubbish periodical like that. Your mother has gone missing.”
Draco stopped pacing. Ginny held her breath.
“What?” he asked quietly.
The elder Malfoy sneered. “You heard me, boy. I’ve still got connections, and they know to tell the public that it’s all rubbish, but in case the truth leaks out somehow, just deny it.”
“Where,” Draco calmly inquired, “did she go?” There was a dangerous tone in his voice that made Ginny nervously nibble her fingernail.
“I don’t know, and frankly, it is not of my concern. Let her off herself, just as long as she doesn’t make too big of a fuss.”
Nodding, Draco added, “I understand.”
At this, Lucius Malfoy presented a very cold smile. “That’s my son. I think the guards…well, they are Dementors, they seem rather indifferent, their version of fond I’d imagine, to me. I doubt they’d care if I ran away, but I’m waiting for the Dark Lord to receive me.”
“That sounds like a good plan,” his son said quietly.
“I’ve got other business in this place to take care of. Goodbye, son.” With that, the apparition disappeared. And much to Ginny’s surprise, Draco’s whole demeanor changed—he suddenly was the epitome of anguish, kicking the wall with a cry of indignation. At that moment, he reminded her of Harry, and it scared her a little bit. She decided that she couldn’t get any clues if she stayed anyway, and planned her attack for tomorrow.
Slowly closing the door, so as not to disturb Malfoy’s tirade, she crept back to the common room. How did Lucius Malfoy, trapped in the most horrifying place on earth since the Chamber of Secrets, manage to communicate with his son? Ginny would have investigated more had she not realized how late it had gotten…it must have been almost seven or so. Classes started again tomorrow (weekends parted with such sweet sorrow), and she needed to study for a Transfiguration quiz. Even though she still had time to go back before she was considered late, Ginny felt that stealth would be in her best interest—not many students traveled to this part of the castle, after all. Wand in hand, she whispered, “Lumos.” It was then that she became aware of a shadow behind her. Ginny froze. Should she pretend that she hadn’t seen this stalker and keep walking, or deal with it face to face?
Embracing her Gryffindor spirit, she confronted it. “Who’s there?” she asked in a firm voice. No one answered, but the shadow stayed.
Ginny lifted her chin. “Fine. But you’ll find that I’ve fought many a Death Eater,” she thought of Luna, “in my field experience. Your loss, I suppose.”
It was clear that whatever was following her wasn’t going to reveal itself, so she opted to keep going on her way. The whole time, she felt its presence, but it still wouldn’t come out. Soon enough, she reached the Fat Lady’s door (“Where have you been, miss?”), and when she got inside, she exhaled a breath of relief.
Ginny suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of drowsiness. She crawled into bed, preparing herself for the dreams to envelop her unconscious once more.
Not surprisingly, she was in the Chamber of Secrets once again. This time, Tom was lying on the floor, hands behind his head, as if he were in a field looking at the stars. “Hello there,” he said softly. He stood up, brushing himself off. Ginny simply stood in fear, as she always did.
Tom reached out and touched her shoulder. “Why this panic, Ginny?” he asked in a falsely kind voice. She couldn’t speak, she was always unable to.
Turning his head, he scoffed. “I bet your people find you incredibly boring,” he said condescendingly, and then his voice softened, “but the more still and quiet you are, the better.”
Ginny merely stared ahead. She felt like one of those patients at St. Mungo’s who couldn’t speak or even move, who just laid in their beds as if they were in a coma, but could still see and hear things, just not respond to them. If Ginny could move, she would have shivered, imagining how terrible it would be to live like that. Or worse, know someone close who was in that state.
Tom started to circle around her. “Poor ickle Ginny Weasley. She can’t do a thing, the miserable coward.” He started to laugh. “Where’s that infamous Gryffindor courage? Or, what, do you expect your precious Potter to save you?”
He slapped her. “Can’t fight back, can you? I always figured you for a pathetic one. Now,” he reached into his robes, “I need to give you something. But before that—”
Tom cradled her head and kissed her brow. An uncontrollable feeling of warmth spread through her, and Ginny hated herself for taking pleasure in it.
“When will you realize, my dear, that I only want the best for you?” he murmured. He stroked her arm. “Ginevra, this is where you belong.”
Like in every dream, he struck her chest with that strange dagger. She crumpled to the ground, hands clutching the hilt. As she slowly sprawled down on the floor, blood forming a pool around her, Tom kicked her.
Ginny awoke. She took deep breaths. Now that she could remember the dreams, there was no way she could go back to sleep. For the rest of the night, she sat in the common room, studying Transfiguration. She knew that the shadow was near her, but this time, she felt an odd sense of reassurement.
She was in the library as soon as it opened the next morning. Ginny sat in silence in an empty table, content with her thoughts. The only other person in the room was Annabelle Marquis, fervently studying Meet My Mimbulus Mimbletonia. Twiddling her thumbs, Ginny waited for breakfast to start. Much to her chagrin, Draco Malfoy sauntered into the library, looking at books in an aisle in the very back. Ginny knew this was the perfect opportunity. Wand in hand, she determinedly stormed over to him. Catching him by surprise, she shoved him against a bookcase and hissed, “Stop harassing Neville or I will ruin your life.”
Time seemed to stop, as Draco and Ginny stared as each other, the tension running deep. Draco pushed her away, a scowl twisting his features. “What in the bloody hell are you talking about, Weasley? Have you not been eating lately? Merlin’s beard, I can give you, say, crumbs from my food if you’d like. I suppose that’s what you’re used to anyway.” He smirked.
Ginny pursed her lips and crossed her arms. “I am not fucking around, Malfoy. Just give Neville back his toad, okay?”
He wrinkled his nose. “Why in the bloody hell would I steal his toad?”
“Because—because, it’s something to do with that Herbology contest. I bet his grades are ahead of yours and you hate him anyway because you’re a mean person and you’re just…you ruin people’s lives, Malfoy!” She started to breathe heavily. He held his hands back in a gesture of surrender. His stance, however, was still highly arrogant.
“Whoa. Somebody has issues. Don’t take them out on me, I’m sure St. Mungo’s has professionals that could help you. Free of charge, I’d wager. And I don’t care about Herbology or bloody Longbottom or you. Could you just leave me alone, Weasley? I don’t know why you find me so irresistible, but the feeling? Is not returned.” He drove her out of the aisle. “I have to get a book, after all. I’m not sure if your people know, but that’s what libraries are for.”
Ginny stalked away, turning her head around to give him one last furious glance.
“Berk,” she muttered, even though she knew he couldn’t hear her.
Malfoy was the most insufferable lad that she’d ever met, which was quite an accomplishment, considering Ronald Weasley was her brother. Luckily for her, it was time for breakfast, and leaving the library, she joined Neville in the Great Hall.
“I got another one,” he cried miserably, brandishing the note. She grabbed it from his hands.
Ginny shook her head. “Who would be terrible enough to do this?” she asked.
Neville shrugged. “I thought you had someone in mind?”
“My first suspect, Malfoy, didn’t do it. What are the details of this Herbology essay thing? Who all is it open to?” Ginny furrowed her brow. She rather fancied this detective-like job, even though it was at the expense of her friend’s pet.
“Fifth through seventh years,” Neville explained. “It’s not open to prefects or Head Boy or Girl, since they kind of have prime opportunities in life in the first place. It’s just for everybody else, I guess. But to get the scholarship, you need top marks in Herbology and a really well-written essay.”
If only I had asked earlier, I could have avoided that whole episode with Malfoy, Ginny thought. But of course, she added mentally, a wicked grin curling her lips, it’s always fun to push him around.
“Now,” said Ginny aloud in a business-like tone, “I’m guessing you had the top marks in Herbology?”
Neville nodded.
“Do you know who had the second-highest marks?” she inquired.
With a sad frown, Neville shook his head. Ginny, on the other hand, grinned.
“This will be easy, I’m sure of it. We’ll get Trevor back soon enough, okay?”
Neville smiled back and her and finally decided to eat. He scooped some eggs onto his plate.
“I heard some people say you were sitting in the common room last night. What were you doing?”
Ginny shrugged. “Oh, I was just—damn, I left my Transfiguration book upstairs! Listen, Neville, I’ll be right back.” With that, she sped towards the Gryffindor Tower.
Sprinting through the halls and greeting portraits, she gave the password (‘superflu’), and entered the room. She found her book, stuffed into a corner of the sofa. She breathed a sigh of relief. Ginny also remember that she had a box of Sugar Quills stored under her bed—she had time to eat a snack, she needed some relaxation anyway. She got a cherry-flavored one (her personal favorite), and started to chew on it when she noticed something in the corner. The shadow. She dropped the candy and walked slowly towards it.
“I know you’re there, whatever you are,” she whispered boldly. The shadow simply stood. She took another step towards it, when she saw something that made her realize what exactly it was.
“Sirius?” she asked, as the shadow came forward, revealing a large black dog. Ginny took a quivering gasp, her hand outstretched. “Is that you?”
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