Chamber Born

Pansy and Ginny made their way down to the Slytherin common room. Ginny was surprised to see Pansy look a little shell-shocked.

“Pans?” Ginny said, using her nickname without thinking.

“Right,” the girl said, shaking herself. “Robes.” She opened up the package and began pulling out—

“Pansy! These are dragonhide—”

“Of course they are,” she said dismissively, seeming to come back to herself. “You can’t wear Twilfitt with those.” She pointed at Ginny’s well worn and slightly mudcaked boots.

“They’re enchanted to repel dirt, auto-adjust within a size or two, and are completely waterproof.”

Ginny stared at the boots. They were black, calf-high, lace-ups. She touched them and with a thought they unravelled. She looked at Pansy, as if for permission. The girl smirked and nodded. Ginny took off her own boots and put her foot into them. She touched them again and they laced themselves snugly around her foot.

“Wow…” Ginny said. “They look incredible.”

“I know.” Pansy spent the next fifteen minutes having Ginny model different robes, cloaks, gloves, and even scarves.

“This is too much,” Ginny said for the fortieth time. Pansy had just taken to ignoring her protests.

“Now, hand over your clothes.”

“W-what?”

“You’re old clothes. Hand them over.” 

Ginny handed the girl the pile. Pansy tossed it unceremoniously onto the stone floor and pulled out her wand.

“Incendio!” she said cackling.

“Wait!”

But it was too late. All her old clothes were practically incinerated already.

“My mum is going to kill me…”

“Because you have nicer clothes?”

“Yes,” Ginny said.

“Tell her they were a birthday gift.”

“A birthday gift that cost more than everything we own put together?” Ginny said in despair. Pansy stared at her for a moment.

“Wow… errr, tell her they were my old clothes?”

“That might help.”

“Okay, now, you will tell me when those boots get too small. I know Aurellia will be able to see everything else.”

“You can’t just keep buying me clothes as I grow,” Ginny said.

“Why not?”

Ginny spluttered and Pansy laid a hand on her shoulder.

“This,” she waved her hand, “is nothing. I get a new wardrobe practically every holiday. You can spend the next seven years getting comments about your clothing and poverty, from me included, or you can just accept it, have your life be a lot easier, know it doesn’t mean you owe me or anything, and enjoy it.”

Ginny hesitated and then nodded. Pansy beamed and hugged her.

***

Ginny’s most anticipated class, Defence Against the Dark Arts was, like History of Magic, woefully underwhelming. Lockhart, no matter how beautiful, was an absolute buffoon. Perhaps, if her crush on Harry Potter had lasted longer than day two of school, and she hadn’t learned the pitfalls of fancying boys based on good-looks and reputation, she would have been defending him as fiercely as Hermione. But now she was just annoyed. Hogwarts was supposed to be the best school of magic in the world—according to anyone British—how were two out of three teachers this incompetent?

She hoped the rest would prove to be better.

***

Ginny breathed a sigh of relief after Charms class. Flitwick was an incredible teacher. He was fun, engaging, and helped them each individually. She stayed a moment after class.

“Ms. Weasley, how can I help you?”

“Professor, I was wondering if you might help me with a Transfiguration question.”

“I’d be happy to, but I believe Minerva might be a better choice.”

“I asked Professor McGonagall, but she didn’t have an answer.”

“Oh?” Professor Flitwick looked interested now.

“Professor, I can’t see things in my head.”

“Really?” He stroked his beard. “When you read… fiction, what happens in your head?”

“I kind of have an impression of what’s going on and I say the words in my head.”

“What do you mean by impression?”

“Well… I just feel it. Like I can see how a character might look, but I can’t literally see it like Professor McGonagall wants us to. Does that make any sense?”

“What you are describing is quite common among goblins.”

“Really?” Ginny said, perking up.

“Yes.”

“Can goblins do transfiguration?”

“They can. They generally work with metals, but many of the principles are still the same.”

Professor Flitwick waved his wand and conjured a napkin.

“Try to transfigure this napkin into a sheet of parchment.”

Ginny looked dubiously at it, but she waved her wand and attempted it. Nothing happened.

“Don’t look so upset. Now, try it, but don’t try to picture parchment in your head. Instead think of the word parchment, as if you are reading it. Think of what it evokes for you.”

Ginny thought. She imagined herself reading the word, “parchment.” She could hear a crinkle of paper, a roll, the shadow of a quill. She didn’t see these things, she just understood them. She waved her wand. Before her eyes, the napkin transformed. She let out a whoop of delight.

“Fantastic, Ms. Weasley! Five points to Slytherin.” Professor Flitwick looked absolutely delighted.

“I think we can safely say you can forgo visualisation altogether. With practice over time, I think more emotion and intent based spells may be a strength of yours. They use a similar mindset as the one you just accomplished.”

“What are emotion and intent based spells?”

“Ah, most are very advanced, but examples include the patronus, the fidelius charm, and many many dark curses and their countercurses. All require a particular mindset, emotion, or intent to cast.”

“Thank you!” Ginny said. Then she paused and blushed. “You’re a very good teacher.”

“Thank you, Ms. Weasley. I do so enjoy it. If you have any other questions or would just like to discuss magic, my door is always open.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Ginny practically skipped out of the classroom. Finally, a teacher worthy of the school’s reputation. She was exempted from flying class today because Flint had vouched for ability and their Head of House, who she had yet to meet, had signed a permission form saying she didn’t need it. She was kind of bummed about it, as any excuse to fly, was a good one.

“Gin!”

She turned around, hand already on her wand, but she smiled when she saw it was the twins, big grins on their faces.

“Hi.”

Fred and George caught up to her and both looked a little abashed.

“Gin, listen, we’re really sorry we haven’t seen you. You have no idea how hard it is to get you alone.”

Ginny laughed. “That’s because Slytherins almost never travel alone. I’m exempt from flying right now, so this is pretty much one of the only times I haven’t been with someone.”

Both twins didn’t meet her eye.

“I know you two aren’t doing anything… really bad,” Ginny said. “And I know you would never target first years.”

“Errr, nothing bad for the lower years,” Fred corrected, looking a little awkward. “Just color-changing charms on their hair and the like…”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “So, whatsup?”

“Whatsup!?” George exclaimed. “You got sorted into Slytherin, mum sent a howler saying you were going to be resorted, but from what we can tell, you don’t want to be?”

“That—she was just mad. She can’t get a resort done?” She thought back to Flora’s worried look when they’d talked about the resorting.

“So you do like it in the snake pit?” George asked. Ginny shrugged.

“Yeah. They’re a bit odd, but they’re alright. Ron’s been a bit of a troll about it, but I only saw him once.”

“Yeah, he’s… been a little fixated on it.”

“Malfoy’s not really helping either.”

“What do you mean?” Ginny asked.

“Well, Malfoy’s taking every chance he gets to rub it in Ronnikens’ face, which has only made him madder.”

Ginny rolled her eyes.

“Honestly, what is the deal with them and Malfoy anyway? He seems a bit arrogant, but all around fine.”

“He’s a whiny brat,” Fred said.

“Things the sun shines out of his ass, that one does—oof, what?”

“Language, Georgie. In front of Ginnikens!” Fred clutched his heart.

“Buggering shit,” Ginny said and their faces split into matching smiles. “Hermione is right, this is all ridiculous. It’s just a house. The hat literally put me here because I wanted to one up you lot. I hardly think that makes me evil.”

“I don’t know, Georgie. Sounds like ickle Ginnikens doesn’t quite know her place in the family hierarchy.”

“Smacks of evil to me.”

Ginny playfully kicked George’s leg.

“Anyway Gin, whatever Ron says, we’re still your brothers—”

“Ron said he wasn’t my brother?” Ginny said, feeling like someone had just slapped her. Before he’d gone to Hogwarts, Ron and her were thick as thieves. They were alone together in the burrow for nine months out of the year, it was hard not to be.

“Well…”

“Fred.”

“She’ll find out soon enough, better from us.”

“Fine.” George raised his hands in surrender.

“He said that no Slytherin was a sister of his. I think he’s banking on the resort.”

Ginny rubbed at her face.

“I’m just going to get sorted back into Slytherin,” she said. “It doesn’t matter.” There was a long silence. “How’s Hermione?”

The twins exchanged glances.

“Not great. They had a big fight and Harry’s trying to keep out of it and stay on speaking terms with both of them, but he’s sort of quietly chosen Ron’s side.”

“Is she out of class now?”

“She’s up in Gryffindor tower.”

“Let’s go,” Ginny said decisively. They grinned, probably at the chaos that bringing Ginny into Gryffindor would cause.

***

“Everyone in Gryffindor must be insanely fit,” Ginny said, wheezing as they made it up the fourteenth flight of stairs.

“Fortuna Major,” George said clearly and the painting swung forward to reveal a large circular entryway. They stepped through it and into a small, cozy room, with a large roaring fire and a great deal of furniture packed into it.

“Welcome to Gryffindor,” Fred said, bowing.

“Oy! You brought a Slytherin in here?” someone shouted from a corner.

“Shove it, Mclaggen, unless you’d like us to use you as our next test subject?”

The boy looked at the twins with some trepidation and went back to his work.

“Watch this.” George pulled out his wand, waved it, and a miniature magical firework shot out of it and zoomed up one of the stairs and into a keyhole. A moment later, they heard the pop of it going off, followed by a scream and a thump.

“Oops.”

The door burst open and Hermione stood there, looking furious.

“What on—Ginny?”

“I didn’t do it!” she said, holding up her hands and then pointing at George.

“Fred, she’s been corrupted already. Ratting us out—” Ginny elbowed him.

“How are you, Hermione?”

“O-Okay,” she said. “But what are you doing here?”

“I heard you were free and wanted to see if you’d like to go for a walk?”

“Oh! Sure. Let me just grab my bag. I’ll head to the library after.” She dashed back into the girls dormitory and reappeared a minute later, her huge bag slung over her shoulders.

“How, in Merlin’s name, do you carry that thing up all those flights of stairs?” Ginny asked. Hermione just shrugged and they left through the portrait hole.

“No offense, but Gryffindor Tower is way less cool than the Slytherin Common Room.”

“Really?” Hermione said, not sounding offended, but more curious. “What’s it like?”

“The windows look into the lake!” Ginny said in excitement. “I saw a mermaid my second night.”

“No!”

“Yes! They’re a little terrifying looking, but are very nice. They have this game that involves hand signals, but I haven’t figured it out yet.”

“I can look it up and see if there’s anything written about it,” Hermione said, sounding equally fascinated.

They finally came out to the Entrance Hall and Ginny eyed Hermione’s bag.

“Let me carry that.”

“W-what?”

“It’ll be good training for Quidditch.”

“A-alright.” Hermione handed it over and Ginny almost buckled under its weight.

“Merlin, Hermione. You should go out for beater if you can just carry this around.”

Hermione scoffed.

“I am probably the least coordinated person at Hogwarts.”

Ginny grinned, grabbed a rock from the ground outside and tossed it to her. She fumbled it and dropped it.

“No kidding.”

“I wasn’t ready!”

Ginny stuck her tongue out at her and Hermione giggled.

“I heard Harry and Ron are being right prats.”

Hermione grew serious at once.

“I… Harry’s trying…”

“He should try harder. You’re so much cooler than my brother. No idea why he chose his side when he’s not only wrong, but way less fun.”

“Fun?” Hermione said weakly.

“Fun. Unless you find talking about the Canon’s non-existent chances at the League Cup or playing Wizards Chess for hours at a time fun.”

Hermione snorted.

“What do you find fun, Ginny?”

“Well, Quidditch. I like exploring a lot. I think I’d like Defence quite a bit if we had a competent teacher.”

“Professor Lockhart is a genius!” Hermione said and Ginny quickly changed the subject.

“Know what classes you’re electing into next year?”

“No!” Hermione said despairingly. “All of them seem fascinating. And I’d really like to take Muggle Studies to see how wizards approach the subject. So far, it seems like wizards are woefully ignorant of the Muggle world.”

Ginny blushed.

“It’s not your fault!” Hermione said quickly. “I think the Magical World is just really insular.”

“Do you think you could show me around Muggle London this summer?” Ginny said quickly, before she lost her nerve. If she was being honest, she found Hermione kind of intimidating. She was almost two years older than Ginny, top of the class, and heralded, even grudgingly amongst the Slytherins, as a prodigy. She knew so much and seemed so confident…

“I promise I won’t be like my dad. If you don’t want me to bring it up again, I won’t…”

“No… it’s alright. I’d like that.”

They walked along the grounds, talking about school and magic. Hermione was fascinated by Flitwick’s solution to Ginny's visualisation problem and peppered her with questions about it until they reached the Entrance Hall again. Ginny hugged Hermione before they parted.

“Thanks for coming to find me, Ginny.”

“Of course!”

***

Astronomy and Herbology weren’t exactly Ginny’s cup of tea, but both Professors Sinistra and Sprout were incredibly knowledgeable and affable. While most of Astronomy was overall boring, she found the effect certain planetary alignments had on divination and potions ingredients fascinating. Professor Sinistra had gotten somewhat cagey when she’d asked if it affected casting however, which only served to make Ginny more interested.

Finally, Friday had arrived, and with it Quidditch tryouts. She woke up early and met the hopefuls in the common room. Draco smirked at her and she saw he had a Nimbus 2001. She practically drooled at the sight of it. He noticed and his expression became even more smug. She was slightly concerned his ego’s mass may be so great that it might collapse in on itself, causing the boy irreparable damage.

Flint met them a moment later and led them out to the pitch. She noticed some of the Gryffindors in the stands and…

“Hermione?”

“I just wanted to wish you luck!” she said. Her face was red from the cold and she gave Ginny a quick hug.

“Thanks!” Ginny said. Hermione smiled and then ran off to the stands again. She saw that despite Harry being there as well, she sat a little ways away from him, while he sat with what seemed to be like the Gryffindor Quidditch team, sans Fred and George. They were probably in detention. She’d heard they had spiked some of the Hufflepuffs’ food with experimental candies that caused nose-bleeds.

“Alright, Seekers, Chasers, Beaters, Keepers,” he pointed as he called out the positions and Ginny gave him a questioning look.

“Weasley, you’re going for Seeker.” 

She nodded and lined up with Draco and two older boys. She relaxed slightly as she saw the first two boys go. They were decent, but nothing special. They didn’t fly particularly fast and it took both of them quite a while to spot the snitch. She and Draco saw it first and smirked at one another when, a minute later, when one of the boys dived for it and caught it.

They were up next. As soon as Flint released the snitch, they were off. Draco, she had to hand it to him, was good. He rocketed at the just released snitch, but Flint had distanced himself so that it had enough time to get away. They both fell into a seeking pattern, when Ginny saw it by the stands. She almost laughed to see Hermione splitting her attention between a book and the tryouts, the snitch going unnoticed a foot away from her.

Thinking Draco hadn’t seen it, she took her seeking pattern towards the bleachers as, to her annoyance, Draco happened to be doing the same. Then his eyes flicked to the snitch and back and she knew they were unintentionally mirroring one another’s strategies. She bolted and he swore and followed a half-second later. Someone shouted from the stands and Hermione looked up and screamed. Draco and Ginny were neck and neck, hurtling right at her. She collapsed to the bleachers and Ginny reached. Draco’s arms were longer and she had to do something. She barrelled into him and she heard and “oof.”

The collision cause her to tip off her broom and she was hanging on, upside-down, with just her legs, hurtling at the stands. She reached for the darting golden ball and caught it.

Pain. It was pain like she had never experienced and then everything was black.

***

“She’s up!”

Ginny blinked and looked around as her vision cleared.

“Where am I?”

“Hospital wing. You’re absolutely insane.” That was Miles Bletchley.

“Didn’t even try to slow down.”

“How’re ya feeling?”

“Like I ran into a wall.”

“Well, you did.” That was…

“Hermione?” She arced her neck and saw Hermione was standing with some space between her and the Slytherin Quidditch Team. “Sorry about almost hitting you.”

“That’s what you’re sorry about?” She hit Ginny’s arm.

“Hey, I’m a sick girl!”

“You almost killed yourself, you idiot!”

“I caught it though, didn’t I?” She felt herself grinning.

“Fouled me while she did it,” Draco grumbled.

“You’re Chaser mate, stop whining. That catch would have stood with a penalty shot given afterwards.”

Draco glared at whoever had spoken outside Ginny’s field of vision. Then, looking incredibly put upon, Draco looked her in the eye.

“Nice catch.”

She grinned.

“So, what time is it?”

“It’s only been an hour. Madam Pomfrey fixed you right up.”

“Terrifying to watch, though.”

“Just fly like that against Potter and we’re golden,” Flint added and was immediately buffeted by a bunch of people punching him.

“If she flies like that, she won’t last through the next game, you prick,” Bletchley said. Flint held his hands up defensively against the onslaught, but he was grinning.

“As long as we catch the snitch.” This comment brought a renewed round of playful punching.

***

Ginny left the Hospital Wing soon after and met her fellow Slytherins in Potions. This was her first time seeing Professor Snape outside of the Great Hall and she was curious to see if he was as horrible as her brothers said. Even Bill was less than complimentary of the Professor.

The class started out alright. Ginny had quickly realised, this week, that she had much more interest in wand-based classes—they just seemed more practical. But in reviewing for this class, she realised how versatile and important Potions could be. She sat with rapt attention as Professor Snape expounded on the subtle magic of potion-making. He was a good orator and she found herself excited to begin brewing.

Snape waved his wand and the recipe appeared on the board. She grinned at Aurellia.

“I’ll get the ingredients.” She got up and collected the ingredients from the cupboard. They split them up and began chopping. It was not five seconds before Snape was on them.

“What do you think you are doing?”

“Chopping my horned slugs, sir,” Aurellia said in a meek voice. Ginny looked over and groaned internally. One of the benefits of being the only girl with a more traditional mother, was early lessons in knife skills. Aurellia’s chopping technique was more brutal and ended up with jagged and uneven slugs.

“Sir,” Ginny broke in. Snape turned to her and raised an eyebrow. “If it’s alright, my mum taught me how to do this. I can show Aurellia.”

He stared at her for a moment.

“Very well.” He swept off to intimidate a Gryffindor she was pretty sure was called Collin Creevey.

“Thanks,” Aurellia breathed out. She looked frustrated and Ginny saw her eyes were a little watery.

“No problem,” Ginny said casually. She didn’t think it would help to bring attention to how upset Aurellia was. “Here.” Ginny demonstrated the revolving slicing pattern her mother had taught her when she was a child.

“It ensures each cut is clean and that you cut all the way through.”

Aurellia nodded, mimicking her.

“Nice. The more you practise the more even your cuts will be. I can do these for now, want to get the heat started?”

“Okay.”

It was near the end of the lesson that Ginny saw movement out of the corner of her eye. She reached out, almost without thought, and snatched something out of the air. It was slimy and gross.

“Ew,” she said, dropping it on the floor.

“Thirty points from Gryffindor for an attempt to sabotage another student’s potion,” Snape said. “And detention tomorrow evening, Mr. Jones.”

Ginny looked over and saw a red faced boy glare at her. She glared right back, then she pulled out her wand and said, “Depulso.” The slug mucus splattered into the boy.

“Professor!” Jones said in an outrage.

“Yes?”

“Weasley just shot slug mucus at me!”

“I did not see anything. Do not make up stories, Mr. Jones.”

Jones seemed about to shout, but his friend put a hand on his arm and he calmed down.

Ginny turned from him and bottled their, not perfect, but definitely workable, potion. She placed it on Professor Snape’s desk, nodded to him, and left with Aurellia.