Harry stared out the window of the Gryffindor common room. The Hogwarts
grounds were caked with coats of fresh glinting white snow. Above, gleaming
snowflakes fell steadily against a backdrop of soft, muted whitish-pink.
It was rather pretty, but in Harry's current frame of mind, he hardly appreciated
it. Harry glanced down at the fragment of yellowed parchment clutched in
his hands. One might have thought he was mad, so anxious over a scrap of
parchment. But the words jotted hastily in scarlet ink that lingered on
the faded parchment meant far more to him than other people's opinions.
Except, of course, for Ron's and Hermione's. That was why he was sitting
in the common room waiting for them to return, and not dashing off to the
kitchens, begging food from the house-elves as he ought to be. Harry glanced
down at the quick scrawled note.
Harry—
Next Saturday, you say? Right, then. I'll meet you there outside the
Post Office. And don't try to convince me not to come; I'm already on my
way.
—S.
Harry was both thrilled and worried about seeing his godfather. However,
the latter emotion squashed the former, and he wrung his hands together
agitatedly. What if Sirius was caught? It was more than likely that that
would happen, Harry knew. If he was…well, Harry didn't even want to venture
into that line of thought. He glanced out the window again, bursting to
leave. His heart jumped as he spotted a flash of bright red. Bright Weasley
red. Was it Ron? Too eager to bother checking further, Harry leaped to
his feet and ran through the portrait hole, snatching up his scarlet winter
cloak as he went.
Once outside, Harry looked around fervently for Ron and Hermione. Had
it even been them? He checked his watch and allowed himself a quick sigh
of relief; it was half an hour till the group for Hogsmeade left. But he
wanted to be early, just in case.
He looked up again, and caught his breath. A faint blur of brilliant
scarlet, very conspicuous against the pure white snow, was twirling towards
him with great enthusiasm. As he or she waltzed closer to Harry, he could
make the shape out as Ginny Weasley. Obviously she had been the flash of
bright red he'd seen out the window.
"Hallo, Ginny," he said, slightly disappointed. "Have you seen Ron?"
At the sound of his voice, Ginny abruptly halted to a stop in mid-spin.
"Harry!" she exclaimed, flustered. "I—I didn't see you." Her cheeks were
coloring slightly.
"Yes, I just came down a few moments ago," said Harry. Despite his
mild irritation, he had to smile at Ginny's disconcerted surprise. "You're
very good," he added.
Ginny went even pinker. "Er, thank you," she managed to stumble out.
"Dancing, you mean? Oh, I always do that—the snow is just so pretty, and
it looks so inviting to play in. It makes me feel really free. So does
my art. I love art, and everything about it. I've been painting since I
was little, and—" Ginny suddenly cut off her trail of chatter, apparently
astonished at herself.
Harry remembered Ron telling him in the summer before second year that
Ginny normally never shut up. His smile widened into an amused grin. He'd
not believed Ron at the time. Now he did. "Go on, Ginny," he prompted.
"Art, you said? What kind of art do you do?"
Ginny blinked at him blankly. Then she seemed to come to life again
all at once. A bright smile lit up her face and she began talking rapidly.
"Oh, everything," she answered animatedly, her dark eyes sparkling with
enthusiasm. "Percy always says it's a waste of time and it won't get me
anywhere, but Mum's really wonderful about it. She's always proud of everything
I do, even if it's horrid. What I really like doing is unicorns. I love
unicorns—see this, I made it myself," and Ginny gently pulled a thin silver
chain from her neck with a small, delicate clay unicorn hanging from it.
Harry bent over to see it better. "It's lovely," he said in a tone
of both surprise and admiration. He leaned over further for a better look,
and flushed when he realized where his eyes were straying. Hastily he drew
back.
Ginny didn't seem to notice, or if she did, she said nothing of it.
"I did love it when we studied unicorns in Care of Magical Creatures with
Professor Grubbly-Plank in my third year," she continued blithely. "It's
too bad that Hagrid came back—oh, not that I don't like Hagrid! I do, of
course, he's wonderful. It's just that honestly, those beasts he brings
to class—oh, I'm sorry!" Ginny interrupted herself. She smiled wryly. "I've
been babbling on and on, haven't I? I do apologize, only I grew up that
way—I had to, living with six older brothers! To get a word in edgewise,
one has to be quite the chatterbox." She looked up at Harry, her brown
eyes seeming to be laughing. "And here I am, still prattling on. I hope
you're not terribly bored, listening to me babble."
"Not at all," Harry replied truthfully. He'd actually been very entertained.
He'd not ever thought that Ginny was such a vivacious sort of person. Apparently,
she was. He rather enjoyed it, seeing such a spirited version of Ginny,
as opposed to the little girl who squeaked and peeked at him from around
corridors. He turned slightly to face away from the cutting bitter wind,
and pulled his cloak around him more tightly.
"Are you cold?" ventured Ginny. She smiled. "That's another reason
why I love dancing in the snow. It warms me up, you see. I don't even feel
the cold for a good ten minutes or so." She reached into her pocket for
her wand. Pointing it at Harry, she murmured a quick incantation that he
didn't quite catch.
A bright silver ray of light shot from Ginny's wand and all at once,
Harry was suffused in a muted golden glow. He was suddenly filled with
warmth, as though he was standing in bright sunshine. "What was that?"
asked Harry in surprise.
Ginny smiled. "Heating Charm," she explained. She twirled her wand
as if it was a baton. The slender stick of wood spun neatly in Ginny's
hand; she tightened her grip to stop the rotation and slipped the wand
back into her pocket. "Not to boast or anything, but I top my class in
Charms." Ginny paused, and then laughed. "Oh, who am I kidding? I love
boasting," she admitted. Her eyes danced in merriment, and her face seemed
very small and porcelain with the fiery cascade of flame-red hair framing
it.
Despite her smug self-confidence, Harry chuckled. "Well, Miss Weasley,"
he said in amusement. "Dancing, art, Charms…really, what aren't you good
at?"
"Transfiguration," Ginny answered decidedly. She shuddered. "Oooh,
I hate Transfiguration. On my fourth-year exams I was supposed to turn
a cat into a mouse, and instead I accidentally cast an Emotion Alleviation
Charm on it."
"What's that?" asked Harry curiously. He'd missed much of his fourth-year
curriculum, due to the Triwizard Tournament.
"Oh, it's a spell I made up myself in Arithmancy – with a lot of help
from Professor Flitwick and Professor Vector, 'course – just a few
weeks before my Transfiguration exam," explained Ginny. "It's supposed
to transfer your primary emotions of the moment to whomever you're casting
the charm on. It's very advanced, though." She smiled triumphantly. "I
got bonus marks on Arithmancy and Charms for that charm."
"That's wonderful for you, Ginny," said Harry a little distractedly,
rather more interested in Ginny's apparently bad Transfiguration exam.
"What happened with McGonagall, then?"
Ginny affected a somber expression, but it was quickly ruined
as Ginny suddenly broke into laughter. "Oh, I'm sorry," she gasped out
in between giggles. She grasped Harry's arm to steady herself and held
it for a few moments until her laughter finally subsided. "Right," said
Ginny. She looked as though she wanted to laugh again in sheer delight.
"Yes, well, I cast the Emotion Alleviation Charm on the cat. And of course,
since I'm hopeless at Transfiguration, I was hopping mad at McGonagall
for setting such a difficult task."
"Difficult?" repeated Harry, rather startled. Even he'd managed to
admit that the topic of animal Transfiguration wasn't so bad in his fourth
year, and he'd hardly studied at all because of the Tournament.
Ginny raised an eyebrow at him. "Yes, Harry, rub it in, why don't you?"
she said, but her tone held no acid bite in it. "Didn't you hear me? I'm
useless as a witch when it comes to Transfiguration." However, Ginny didn't
seem to mind at all, as she looked quite content with this fact. "Anyhow,
I was terribly mad at McGonagall right then. And of course with that charm,
my feelings were transferred to the cat. So the cat decided to express
its feelings by—by hopping on top of McGonagall's head and—er—relieving
itself!" Ginny choked out, and then fell into a helpless fit of laughter.
"Oh, dear, that's horrid of me, isn't it?" she gasped out. "Laughing like
this…but you don't mind, do you Harry?"
Harry did not answer her, unless one counted his amused laughs as a
response to Ginny's question. "Oh…that's classic!" he said. "I can only
imagine McGonagall's face. Did you get into trouble?"
"This is Professor McGonagall we're talking about, Harry!" exclaimed
Ginny. "Of course I got into trouble. A good deal of it, too. Detention
and thirty points from Gryffindor. But, oh, it was worth it!"
"I should think so," agreed Harry. He shook his head, smiling. "So,
do tell, Ginny. What else are you absolutely terrible at?"
Ginny's mouth made a little O of surprise. "Harry!" she said. "So you
want to know all of my bad qualities? Now, that's what I call friendship!"
"Not at all," protested Harry. "I quite like getting to know you, Miss
Weasley. I'm…how should I put it? I'm dissecting you."
"Dissecting me?" repeated Ginny, laughing. "I can only hope that you
use the term 'dissect' as in 'scrutinize' and not 'hacking Ginny into tiny
bits.' Now that would be attractive. Aren't you quite the sweet-talker,
Harry Potter."
"Oh, right—just ask Parvati Patil," Harry said with a grin. "Actually,
I do want to find out your bad qualities. You're feeding me too many of
your good ones. I'm going to start thinking you're completely perfect."
"How do you know I'm not?" Ginny countered in an impish tone. At Harry's
raised eyebrows, her mouth quirked up into an inevitable smile. "Alright,
then, so I'm not. I do have my share of bad qualities. Especially flying.
I'm possibly the worst flier Hogwarts has ever seen."
"Oh, surely not!" objected Harry. "I think that honor goes to Millicent
Bulstrode. Did you see her trying out for the Slytherin Quidditch team?"
He and Ginny looked at each for a moment, then they both laughed. "You
do like Quidditch at least, don't you?" he added suddenly. He fixed his
eyes on her inquisitively.
Ginny face turned a whole new shade of red previously unknown to mankind.
"Er…" she hedged.
Harry couldn't help but be shocked. "Ginny!"
"I'm sorry!" exclaimed Ginny. "It's just that Quidditch doesn't…interest
me. I'm sure it's all very exciting and electrifying and everything, but—but—"
She broke off, throwing her arms out in helpless defeat. "It—it just doesn't
pique my interest," she finished lamely.
After having gotten over his initial astonishment that someone could
have any feelings other than pure love for Quidditch, Harry raised his
eyebrows at her. "Tsk, Ginny. Don't sugarcoat it. Where's that famous Weasley
spirit? Tell me how you really feel," he teased.
Ginny smirked at him in a way that strangely reminded Harry of Draco
Malfoy, only a much more delicate and feminine version, of course. "Are
you sure you want to know my real feelings for the game?" she ventured.
"Oh, very," nodded Harry, assuming a solemn expression.
"Very sure?"
"I should think I am. Ginny, do hurry up already."
"All right." Ginny took a deep breath and then burst out into an explosion
of Quidditch-downplaying. "I think Quidditch is the most insanely boring
sport ever, worse than watching bananas turn brown. I'd not even go to
the school games if it weren't for Ron nagging me to come watch him all
the time. I was horribly disappointed when Ron made the team, because that
meant I'd have to listen to even more Quidditch talk. Whenever we go to
the Quidditch Cup the only reason I let myself be dragged along is because
I love Mum, and she needs some quiet time without us banging 'round. At
the last Quidditch Cup we went to I wanted to stay in the tent but Fred
and George wouldn't let me, and the only reason I stayed in the stands
watching was because Aidan Lynch couldn't be less hard on the eyes."
Harry stared at her in complete astonishment. He was utterly rendered
speechless. "Oh," he finally squeaked out. "Right."
Ginny grinned at him. "Well, you did want to know how I honestly feel
about Quidditch," she pointed out mischievously, rubbing her hands together
in hope of stimulating warmth. She frowned. "Say, it is rather cold, isn't
it? Better warm myself up." She pointed her wand at herself and muttered
a quick Heating Charm. Bright light shot from the tip of her wand and the
moment it hit her Ginny was immersed in a soft golden light, just as Harry
still was. She sighed. "Oh, that's so much better."
"It is," agreed Harry, before he could help himself. He froze. Did
I just say that?
Ginny appeared stunned as well. She stared at him in open-mouthed astonishment
for a second or two. Then Ginny laughed, breaking the awkward silence.
She flipped her long hair over her shoulder. The golden glow of the Heating
Charm deepened her usually bright scarlet hair to a more subdued wine-red
mixed with soft gold. This brightened her dark brown eyes even more, making
them look far too large for her pale face sprinkled with freckles. The
shape of her body was clearly outlined with a glimmering whitish-gold illumination,
as was her hair. But it wasn't a bad effect at all, thought Harry, but
made her look actually quite pretty. "Thanks, Harry," said Ginny brightly.
"I'm glad you appreciate the beauty of Heating Charms."
Harry nearly choked. Was it him, or did she place a soft emphasis on
beauty? Did that statement have a double meaning?
"Ron!" Ginny yelled suddenly. She was facing away from Harry now. Her
body was angled towards the direction of the lake, and she seemed to be
waving madly at someone. "Ron! Hermione!" shouted Ginny.
Harry turned to face the lake as well, and immediately spotted two
very familiar Hogwarts students striding towards he and Ginny. One was
easily recognizable by his vivid red hair the same startling shade as Ginny's,
and the other also by her hair, but her hair was distinguished by a bouncy,
curling tangle of brown piled all over her head. "Ron, Hermione!" he called,
relieved to see his two best friends back at last. He glanced at Ginny.
"See you later, Ginny," he said as he started towards Ron and Hermione.
"Mm-hm," she answered distractedly, brushing impatiently at the snowflakes
that had caught in her long hair.
Harry wanted dearly to say something witty and intelligent, but since
all that came to mind was a very stupid "I'm glad Professor Flitwick taught
you Heating Charms," he simply waved and started jogging to reach Ron and
Hermione.
Stupid, stupid, stupid, he cursed himself.
********
"Stupid, stupid, stupid," moaned Ginny into her pillow. She was sprawled
on her bed in her dormitory, her face buried in her pillow. How could she
possibly have been such an absolute idiot? It was her blasted tongue that
was the problem. Once she started talking, she could rarely shut up.
Magical Education Department
Regular Subjects Transfiguration: ——
"Ginny!" wailed Roséline Toussaint as she slammed the door of
her wardrobe shut with a loud bang! "Have you seen my Potions assignment?
I need to finish it today, or that wretched git will fail me."
Ginny lifted her head from her pillow to turn an incredulous eye on
her friend. "And you looked for it in your wardrobe?" she demanded in disbelief.
From her spot lounging on the window seat, Natalia O'Brien grinned
at Ginny. "She's looked for it everywhere," said Natalia. "She even checked
in my sweets stash under my bed. And I think she stole some Chocolate Frogs
while she was at it," added Natalia, throwing Roséline a look of
exasperated amusement.
"Well, I've not seen it," said Ginny, and went back to feeling sorry
for herself. Why had she not been born with the wonderful gifts of tact
and finesse? "I'm glad you appreciate the beauty of Heating Charms," Ginny
mimicked herself in a shrill, high-pitched voice lined with admiring devotion.
"What was that, Ginny?" Roséline tilted her head in Ginny's
direction.
"Never mind," sighed Ginny, shaking her head.
"Don't give me that!" said Roséline, opening her hazel eyes
very wide in what might have been indignation. "What is it? I can help."
There was a very loud coughing fit from Natalia's direction. Roséline
glared. "Natalia, that'd better be you dying of pneumonia, or I'll give
you a good kick up—"
"Who, me?" asked Natalia in a tone of mock innocence. She turned from
the window and fixated her very large emerald eyes on Ginny's own brown
ones. "All right, Gin. What's wrong?" prompted Natalia as she got up and
went over to flop down next to Roséline.
Ginny groaned loudly and rolled over on her bed so she was lying down
on her stomach. "Okay. Imagine you're a sixteen-year-old boy," she began.
"Okay, never mind. Perhaps Natalia's right, I can't help," said Roséline
quickly, moving as to get up. A fierce glare from Natalia caused her to
pause, and a swift kick to the shins made her sit back down hastily. "Ouch!
You should try out for Beater, Natalia, if your swing is anything like
your kick." Roséline shut up hurriedly as Natalia's eyes darkened.
"Never mind! Go on, Ginny."
"Imagine you're a sixteen year old boy," Ginny repeated patiently,
"and when you walk outside a girl who's had a crush on you for five straight
years is dancing like a maniac in the snow and nearly twirls right into
you." At this point Natalia and Roséline exchanged knowing looks,
but Ginny chose to ignore this. "And then she starts chattering on and
on about nothing whatsoever, not letting you get a word in edgewise. Then
she proceeds to put a Heating Charm on you without asking you if you want
one beforehand and brags that she's top of class in Charms. Next, she insults
the Head of House and mocks you. After that, she insults your favorite
sport and says she only watches the sport because she happens to fancy
one of the players. She then makes a completely ridiculous comment on the
beauty of Heating Charms. And when you finally see sense and turn to leave,
she's more preoccupied with her hair than she is in saying goodbye. What
would you think?"
Roséline and Natalia glanced at each other anxiously. "Well,"
began Natalia uncertainly, "I'd think that you'd been listening to Fwooper
song if you did all that to Harry. No offense intended, Ginny," she hastened
to add.
"Me?" exclaimed Ginny. "Harry? How—what—was I that—argh!" she groaned.
"I am that obvious, aren't I?"
"Er," stalled Roséline.
"Um," hedged Natalia.
"Very," they both admitted in unison.
Ginny proceeded to spend the next few moments cursing hotly under her
breath. She was faintly surprised at how much she exactly knew, then realized
that that was hardly surprising, with six older brothers. She went on in
great length and much detail.
"That was very good imagery," Natalia offered helpfully when she was
done. "I did like the bit about the cauldron stirrer."
"Yes," chipped in Roséline. "You know, assuming that you could
actually get it to fit so far up—"
"Thank you," said Ginny, cutting Roséline off. "Wonderful. The
only triumph I can get is in my talent for creative cursing. That makes
me feel so much better." She sighed. "I don't think I'm up for anything
but time with me and my sketchbook."
"Right, then," said Roséline supportively, "we'll make sure
no one comes in!" She didn't move. Neither did Natalia.
"I don't think I'm up for anything but time with me and my sketchbook,"
repeated Ginny, enunciating each word clearly.
"Oh!" said Natalia, very loudly, and she grabbed Roséline 's
arm and dragged her out of the dormitory.
Once alone, Ginny leaned over and extracted her sketchbook and pencil
from her night table. She straightened up and rested her back against the
bed frame, the sketchbook in her lap. Ginny flipped it open to the first
page. A large sketch of Harry on his Firebolt done in pencil dominated
the page. She turned the page to the next drawing. It was yet another illustration
of Harry. It was in black ink and featured his profile. The only color
on the page was the intense, vivid emerald green of his eye.
Ginny groaned softly and slammed the sketchbook shut firmly. Face it,
Weasley, she told herself. Harry Potter dominates your life. Even if he
doesn't even know it. And the one time he seemed interested in what you
had to say, you ruined it. She sighed and poked listlessly at the limp
curling strand of hair hanging by her face.
"Ginny!" Natalia burst into the girls' dormitory, her face unusually
flushed and her green eyes strangely bright. Roséline was close
behind, her light brown hair whirling round her pale face wildly.
Ginny blinked in surprise. "Natalia, Roséline, I thought I told
you that—"
"Yes, yes, you want time to recuperate after a humiliating incident
with Harry and all, but come outside!" said Roséline quickly, cutting
Ginny off. Ginny narrowed her eyes, and Natalia rolled hers. Roséline
had never been one for tact.
Wearily Ginny pulled herself off her bed and stood up. She arched an
eyebrow in an inquisitive manner. "Well? What is it, Rose?"
In response, Roséline grasped Ginny's sleeve and pulled her
in the direction of the door. "Hey! Roséline!" cried Ginny in protest.
"You know, it's terribly impolite to drag your friends like this." She
yanked her arm out of Roséline 's sound grip and frowned. "What
on earth is going on?"
"I can explain." Ginny twisted around to see Natalia standing in front
of the window at the back of the dormitory, her expression reflecting amusement
and wryness. The light streaming through the window lit up the outline
of her figure, making her look strangely ethereal. Natalia strode forward
and patted Ginny's arm. "Don't mind Roséline, Gin. She's been at
the butterbeer again." Natalia ignored Roséline 's indignant "Hey!"
and continued, "She's been celebrating her achievement of nine O.W.L.S.,
you see."
Ginny started in surprise. "The O.W.L. results are finally up?" she
exclaimed excitedly. Due to a delay in transferring the Hogwarts fifth-year
O.W.L. results from the Magical Education Department to the Ministry of
Magic, they hadn't been able to receive their exam results over the summer
as per usual but had been forced to wait until the new school year. Anticipation
had been buzzing in the sixth-year girls' dormitory since the beginning
of the new year, then had died down as months passed and the results still
did not arrive. Right now, however, the feeling of zeal and apprehension
was definitely present once again.
Natalia's lips twisted up into a grin that quickly spread to her eyes,
which sparkled. "Yes, they're up!" said Natalia, altogether losing her
composed manner and falling into the state of thrilled triumph that seemed
to have swallowed up Roséline. "And, oh, Ginny, you received—"
"Don't tell me!" interrupted Ginny hastily. "I want to see it for myself."
"All right," conceded Natalia, seemingly in too good a mood to disagree
with Ginny about anything whatsoever. "The O.W.L. results are on the second
floor—Charms corridor."
Ginny thanked her friend and dashed off hurriedly, expectation and
enthusiasm mixed together inside of her. She hoped that she had done well,
but she knew that it was just as likely that she had accomplished almost
nothing, even taking into account all the late night study sessions with
Natalia, Roséline and Anica Duscas. She clattered down a staircase
leading down to the second floor and turned the corner at a ne ar run,
skidding to a halt in the middle of the Charms corridor. A small knot of
buzzing sixth-years were crowded around two long scrolls of parchment tacked
to the wall at the end of the hall. Twisting her hands together nervously,
Ginny made her way down the corridor and settled herself directly in front
of the scrolls of parchments. She closed her eyes briefly and with her
hands clasped, murmured a little prayer.
Then Ginny opened her eyes and scanned the list, searching for her
name. Her eyes skimmed past Victoria Viance – Slytherin in emerald green
ink and Adam Walton – Ravenclaw in blue to light on her own name, written
in flowing scarlet script. Virginia Weasley – Gryffindor. Swallowing hard,
Ginny tapped her wand to the crimson words, and a small roll of parchment
fell into her trembling hands. She squeezed out of the crowd and rushed
down the hall to a quieter spot, clutching the parchment so hard that her
knuckles were white. Once she had somewhat regained her composure, she
loosened her grip and unrolled the parchment.
Ordinary Wizarding Levels
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Gryffindor
Virginia Weasley
Total: 0 O.W.L.s
Astronomy: Beginner; Intermediate; Advanced
Total: 3 O.W.L.s
Herbology: Beginner
Total: 1 O.W.L.
History of Magic: ——
Total: 0 O.W.L.s
Charms: Beginner; Intermediate; Advanced
Total: 3 O.W.L.s
Defense Against the Dark Arts: Beginner; Intermediate
Total: 2 O.W.L.s
Potions: ——
Total: 0 O.W.L.s
Elective Subjects
Arithmancy:
Total: 3 O.W.L.s
Care of Magical Creatures: Beginner
Total: 1 O.W.L.
Divination: ——
Total: 0 O.W.L.s
Medical Magic: Beginner
Total: 1 O.W.L.
Full Total:
Fourteen (14) Ordinary Wizarding Levels
Ginny's mouth fell open, and she screamed.
Study of Harry Potter:
"Miss Weasley!" Little Professor Flitwick was hurrying towards her,
looking concerned. "Are you all right?"
Ginny shook herself out of her astonished stupor. "Oh—yes, I'm quite
fine, Professor—it's just—it's just that I've gotten my O.W.L. results!"
Ginny burst out, her response coming out in an ecstatic tangle of words.
"Ah, yes." Professor Flitwick's worried face relaxed into a smile of
amusement. "Well done, Miss Weasley. You excelled yet again in the field
of Charms. It's lovely, to see such a bright, brilliant young Charms student.
Thirteen O.W.L.s, wasn't it?"
"Fourteen!" corrected Ginny, too keyed up to even blush at Professor
Flitwick's lavish compliments. "Fourteen O.W.L.s – oh, Professor, thank
you so much for the Charms O.W.L.s. I honestly can't believe that I got
fourteen—fourteen—O.W.L.s!" Somewhere in the back of her mind Ginny was
faintly aware that she was babbling, but she couldn't get herself to shut
up, nor did she want to. She was sure that it wasn't possible to be so
very happy, and her ecstasy was pouring out in words.
"Well, you should," smiled Professor Flitwick. "You're a very intelligent
student, Miss Weasley, albeit a little flighty at times. Work hard and
you could become something great. You know your subject well, and that's
why you accomplish so much." With those words and a nod, he ambled off,
presumably to congratulate more delighted sixth-years.
Ginny leaned back against the wall, reading the words on the parchment
over and over. At that moment, she felt that she could do anything in the
world: including becoming friends (and possibly something more) with Harry
Potter. After all, hadn't Flitwick said that she accomplished so much because
she knew her subject so well? Well, if there was one thing in the world
she knew most of, it was Harry Potter. She looked down at the parchment
again, and envisioned another subject at the end of the list.
Total: 3 O.W.L.s
With a little smile on her face and a hint of a skip in her step, Ginny
turned and headed back to Gryffindor Tower.