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.