"Ohhhhh," I sighed to myself as I watched him play chess with my brother. Harry Potter. Just his name implied greatness. I could have sat there for hours just watching his perfect features as he played chess.
"Ginny!" A voice jerked me out of my fantasy world. "Ginny! There you are. I need help on this. I've been looking for you for ages, I…" she stopped and glanced at Harry. "Oh, I should have known, Ginny. Get over him. He's your brother's best friend, he's the nicest guy to walk the earth, and he's famous!"
"Yeah, I know," I sighed, settling deeper into the chair.
"You're never going to get him."
"I can dream…" And with that I slipped back into Harryland.
"Ginny? Ginny! Oh, this is hopeless."
"What is it?" I asked, turning around to face my best friend Jennifer Moliby, also known as Jenna.
"Ginny, I have been trying to get your attention for the past ten minutes. I need help on this Defense Against the Dark Arts essay."
"OK, well, what is it?"
"I need to write an essay on the sixteen methods of slowing an attacking force down, and I can only remember three of them," she whined.
"Did you think of using the book?"
"I lost mine," she pouted.
"Fine!" I pulled out my copy of The Darkest Forces of Earth: A Guide to Self-Protection for Those Who Have a Knack for Attracting Trouble. "Page 161," I absentmindedly said, handing Jenna the book. I slipped back into my History of Magic book immediately after, excited to be at my favorite part. My favorite part being, of course, the early 1980s: You-Know-Who's first fall, made possible by none other than my favorite boy – the Boy Who Lived, the Boy Who Is Living Now, or, my favorite, the Boy-Who-Will-Someday-Change-Ginny-Weasley's-Last-Name-To-Potter (or so I wished).
It was 2:00; Harry had gone to bed, so now I could, too. I was seriously crushing. No, it was more than a crush. Second year I was crushing, in fifth I was in love. I tried to cover it up as best I could. I no longer blushed crimson every time he talked to me. I no longer stared at him every second (I occasionally blinked), and I found I could form full sentences when in his presence. After Hermione's handiwork last year, and her way with words, they didn't even expect me of liking him like that anymore. That, I thought, was a big accomplishment.
You see, ever since I first saw Harry Potter on Platform 9 ¾ on 1 September 1991, I knew he wasn't a normal boy. From that moment onward, I was proud to say that I liked the hero of the wizarding world, Harry Potter. I knew from Ron's first letter that I shouldn't. They were best friends, and nothing would ever work. But I was only ten, a pre-teen, not thinking of anything more then a ‘Hi' and a smile. But that would soon be changed. I got to Hogwarts and found he was every bit as cool as my dreams. He was the hero, and when he saved my life at the end of that year, my infatuation was cast in stone.
Embarrassment kicked in the next year. He would never like me now, not after I had so plainly let him endanger his life trying to right my own mistakes. I avoided him and set up a mental block. I would not enter the presence of Harry Potter more than was absolutely necessary. The less chance he had to be mad at me, the better.
In my third year, I realized that despite anything I may try, he just wouldn't leave my head! Everywhere I looked, I saw him. Every time I was alone, I found myself staging conversations with him, imagining his reaction to anything and everything. I tried to get over him. I went out with Michael Corner for a while. He had liked me for a while, and I thought, Hey, it's not Harry, but maybe he will take his place…. Now, when I look back on it, I say what the heck was I thinking? Could just anyone take the place of my true love? I scoffed, thinking sarcastically, Could anyone take the place of Dumbledore? I tried to like him, I really did. But it wasn't working out. He wasn't Harry. Two months later, I broke it off. The same thing had happened near the end of the year. Dean Thomas, my brother's roommate for goodness sake, hadn't had the sense and asked me out. I obliged, thinking he, being close to Harry in friendship, might be more my type. But I wasn't counting on Ron's threats. I mean, all my brothers have always been overprotective, but Ron was taking his older-brotherly duties to the insane level of Gryffindor Captains during Quidditch season. We had a mutual break-up a month into the summer holidays.
It was my fifth year now. I was back on Harry, keeping my distance, but always watching. It was probably insanity dawning on me at this point. But I didn't care. He was the object of my affections, and strangely, he hadn't noticed yet.
And when I say he hadn't noticed yet, I don't mean it's just Harry being daft. No, my brother gets that award. It was the entire Hogwarts population, with the slight exception of myself, Jenna, and Hermione. So far, not one of the aforementioned had realized that I wasn't over him yet, which must be a first in Hogwarts history.
I looked on in admiration as my hero stood tall and proud, walking down a long red carpet, love shining in his bright green eyes. "I love you, Ginny Weasley," he was saying, a smile evident on his lips as he looked at me adoringly.
It was a reoccurring dream, and it defiantly qualified as one of my favorites.
Morning came sooner than I wished, and I was forced from my Harry-filled dreams to face reality. "His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad, his hair is as dark as a blackboard, I wish he was mine, he's really divine, the hero who conquered the dark lord." I hummed softly to myself as I showered and dressed, remembering the song that I had made up all those years ago. Four to be exact. One would think that after that long I would have gotten over him. Well, ‘one' thought wrong.
It was 8:00, and classes began in an hour. Just enough time to see Harry at breakfast, I thought to myself. I had an entire schedule worked out in order to see Harry as much as possible during the day. Oddly enough, he hadn't noticed yet.
Sure enough, just as I stepped out of the girls' staircase, I saw Harry and Ron stepping out from theirs. "Hi," I said, trying to keep my voice steady and casual.
"Hi," Harry answered. I gave him a small smile. Harry didn't notice, and Ron had turned his back. They went back to their conversation as I pulled ahead by a few feet.
"So, d'you hear about…" Ron was trying not to give much away, in case I was listening. I could tell.
"If you're talking about Fudge, yeah, heard about it in the Prophet yesterday, but if there's something else… "
"Yeah, that's what I mean. But I can't help but wonder what's really going on. They're keeping something from us, I can tell. And with so many deaths lately. Yesterday four people got letters saying their parents died! Sure, they came clean last summer an' all, but they're still keeping plenty quiet."
"Four? I thought it was only three, Federica Renelli, Susan Bones, Danny McLien, and…"
"Molly Oberstar, remember, fourth year Hufflepuff."
I forced my thoughts away from their conversation. It was too painful; the world was getting so dark, so evil lately with You-Know-Who rising. My parents were doing everything in their power to help the Order of the Phoenix, a special group devoted to fighting against Voldemort. That's where they were now, running some errand for Dumbledore. I didn't know where or what they were doing. It was too dangerous if anyone knew too much. I just know that it was for Dumbledore. Mum and Dad couldn't tell us too much. They were worried about us enough already since Ron was such good friends with Harry. Oh well I reassured myself, nothing can happen as long as Dumbledore's around. He's the only one, after all, that You-Know-Who's afraid of.