***
A little fic about Ginny, her mum, and an emerald-green sweater.
Hey all, Mo here. I'm not a regular HP fanfic reader, but I was rereading
HP1 today and I got this idea. If it's similiar to someone else's, I honestly
apologize. All characters belong to JK Rowling (we are not worthy, we
are not worthy). Any inaccuracies in Ron's account of the battle with
the troll can be chalked up to Ron being Ron or me being stupid.
*******
Knit one, purl two, knit two, purl one . . .
"Do be careful, dear, you've dropped another stitch."
Ginny Weasley hurled down her needles and the clump of tangled yarn in
disgust. "This is impossible, Mum! Please, I'll never learn to knit,
so why can't I stop?"
Her Mum picked up Ginnny's knitting and handed it back to her, then returned
to her own needles. "Because you will learn to knit, eventually,
and it's a very useful skill."
Some of the stitches had fallen off the needle, and Ginny sulkily began
the torturous process of coaxing them back on. "It might have been
useful a hundred years ago, but not today," she pouted. "Why
can't you just go to the store and buy us all sweaters for Christmas?"
"Because a gift means more when it's made with love."
"Well then why can't you charm the needles to knit while you do
other things?"
Her mum gave her a stern look. "It doesn't do to depend too much
on magic, Ginny. Sooner or later you'll start to think you're better then
everyone else, and we all know what that leads to."
Ginny rolled her eyes. "Yes, Mum, I'm sure the entire reason You-Know-Who
went bad was because nobody ever taught him to knit."
"I think you're picking up too many of your brothers' bad habits,
Ginny. Mouthiness, for one."
Ginny blinked at her. "From halfway across England?"
Her dad stuck his head in the room. "Don't make fun of your mother,
Ginny, that's my job." He brandished a fistful of letters. "Mail
from Hogwarts. Hermes just brought them."
"Well?" Ginny's mum said. "Come in and read them, Arthur."
Ginny sighed heavily. She was hoping for a letter from Ron, but goblins
got you garden gnomes that it was just another boring six pages from Percy
about his stultifying adventures as a prefect, or another scribble from
one of the twins about their latest pranks.
It wasn't that Ginny missed Ron so much--although she did, quite a lot.
She'd never been alone in the household before, but this year, for the
first time, it was just her and her parents. Ron got on her nerves a lot,
but he'd always been someone to play with--or fight with. It usually amounted
to about the same thing.
Yes, Ginny did miss Ron, but that wasn't the real reason she so looked
forward to his few letters. It was because in his last letter, he'd spent
the bulk of it on the subject that interested her most.
Harry Potter.
Ginny had been fascinated with him even before he'd become her older
brother's best friend--ever since she'd first heard about his battle with
You-Know-Who when she was very small. She'd been born on the same night
that battle had taken place, and she couldn't help feeling as if Harry
had personally ensured that she, Ginny, would never have to live even
a minute in a world that had You-Know-Who in it.
It was of course an utterly ridiculous thought--for one, Harry didn't
even know she existed, and for another, he'd been just a baby himself
at the time, and Ron said he didn't remember a thing but a flash of green
light. But it was a nice thought, all the same.
Then, when she'd seen him at King's Cross station on the first day of
September, she'd somehow registered everything about him--the bright green
eyes, the mussed black hair, the solemn expression, and the polite and
rather hesitant way he'd asked about the platform. She'd been a bit curious,
until Fred and George had broken the news that he was Harry Potter, the
Harry Potter, and that they'd actually seen that lightning scar that was
his badge of honor. Her mum hadn't let her get on the train to have another
look, however, and she'd been forced to content herself with the flash
of his face in the window as the train sped away towards Hogwarts.
Next year, she thought determinedly, I'll be on that train too, and then--
The and then continually changed. Sometimes she became, like Ron, one
of Harry's closest friends. Sometimes, she became more. And sometimes
(in her most depressed moments) he didn't even realize she existed, saying
"Who?" every time one of her brothers mentioned her.
"Ginny," said her mum, and Ginny snapped out of her reverie.
"Don't you want to hear the letters?"
"Who wrote, Dad?" Ginny asked.
Her dad shuffled through the letters. "One from Percy, of course--"
Of course--it just figured that the dullest letter writer was also the
most faithful.
"One each from the twins--oh! and here's one from Ron! Goodness,
Percy must have gotten after them to write."
Ginny's mouth fell open.
Ginny's mum said tartly, "Oh, I wasn't aware there'd been a solar
eclipse."
"Now, Molly, he's not that bad."
"Very nearly, Arthur--here it is November, and this is only the
second letter. You'd think the boy forgot how to hold a quill. Well, what
does he have to say for himself?"
"Yes, Dad, read his first, read his first!" Ginny blushed as
both her parents paused and looked at her. "I mean--he must have
lots to talk about--since it's been so long since his last letter, you
know--umm--" She decided to quit while she was ahead.
Her dad smiled to himself and looked around. "Great goblins, where
on earth--" He heaved a sigh and took out his wand. "Inveni--"
"Your glasses are on top of your head, Dad," Ginny put in before
he could finish the Location Charm.
"Oh." He put his wand away, fumbled for his glasses, and settled
them onto the bridge of his nose. "Okay--all right." He slit
the envelope and brought out three or four pages of paper, covered with
Ron's uneven scrawl.
Ginny's mum said, "Percy must have been standing over him for that
many pages--"
"Muuuuuuuuuuuum!" Ginny wailed.
"What?"
She thought of beating her head against the wall, but decided against
it as her dad started to read.
"'Dear Mum, Dad, and Ginny,
Happy Halloween, a bit late. You'll never guess all the excitement around
here. You can be proud of your youngest son this time, Dad--Harry and
I fought a full grown mountain troll on Halloween night and we won!'"
Ginny gasped.
"'I can see you rolling your eyes, Gin, but honestly, it's true.
Nobody really knows how it got in, but in the middle of the Halloween
feast, Professor Quirell ran into the Great Hall, screaming about it,
and then he passed out right on the floor!'"
"I do hope he was all right," her mum said.
"'We all got herded up to our towers to finish the banquet, but
then Harry remembered that awful girl, Hermione Granger. Well, she isn't
so awful anymore, but that's part of the story. Anyway, she was up in
the girl's loo, having a cry for some reason. Girls are so weird, honestly.'"
Ginny and her mum both said, "Hmph!"
"'Harry talked me into going and getting her, because she couldn't
have heard about the troll. So we got up there and we heard it! The troll!
He was banging around and, gosh, what a stench! He was ugly too--almost
as ugly as you in the morning, Gin.'"
"Hey!"
"I'm just reading what it says, Ginny," her father said mildly,
but with a twinkle in his eye. He continued. "'We were really scared
he'd see us, but then he went into a room, and Harry got the idea to lock
him in. We'd just done it and were getting away when we heard someone
screaming--and you'll never believe it. The room was the girl's loo, and
the screaming was Hermione! We ran back and unlocked the door. I don't
know what we thought we were going to do--that troll was fifteen feet
high, at least, and he was ripping sinks right out of the walls.'"
Ginny's mother put her hand over her eyes.
"'We started throwing bits of sink and yelling, but it didn't seem
to work. Then Harry jumped right on its back and stuck his wand up its
nose! He says it was an accident, but I say it was genius. Then I performed
the levitation charm we'd just learnt that day, and I knocked it out with
its own club! Bet Hermione felt silly--she'd been making fun of me for
not doing it right that day in Charms.' Wingardium Leviosa, I expect,"
Ginny's dad broke off to say. "Nice little charm--"
"Daaaaaad!"
"Arthur!"
"All right, all right, don't get excited. 'Then the professors found
us--I guess we'd been making a terrible lot of noise. They were about
to punish us for not going to the towers like we were told, but then Hermione
took the blame! Miss Hermione "Absolutely Must Follow The Rules Whatever
The Cost" Granger lied to them and said she'd thought she could take
the troll, being that she'd read so much about them. They took five points
from Gryffindor for that, but then they gave me and Harry five points
each for battling that troll. Can you believe it? I was stunned! Especially
since--well--I didn't want to say it before, but I'd said something a
little bit nasty to her earlier in the day, and Harry reckons that's why
she was up there crying. I dunno. Anyway, she's been much nicer lately--almost
tolerable, when she's not nagging us about schoolwork. We're all okay,
Mum--nobody got hurt, except the troll.'"
Ginny's mum said, "Phew--my goodness! They could have been killed,
all three of them! Such a risk--"
"Don't go sending a Howler just yet now, Molly," her dad broke
in. "If they hadn't been there, that girl would have been killed.
Our son's not perfect, but he does have a good heart."
"And so does Harry," her mum said gratefully. "I knew
he was a nice boy, right from the start. Is there any more to that letter?"
Her dad adjusted his glasses and looked back at the paper in his hands.
"'Classes are all fine, especially now we have Hermione to check
our homework for us. Harry's first Quidditch match is on Saturday. He's
nervous, but Fred and George say he's going to do fine. You should see
him on a broom, it's fantastic, like he's been riding one all his life.
I bet he catches the Snitch right off, that'll show those nasty Slytherins.
I've got to go to Herbology now. We've got a test on Monday, and Hermione's
promised to help us study, but she won't let us cheat. Love, Ron.' Oh,
wait, here's a P.S. 'I just talked to Harry and he says he's staying for
the holidays, as his aunt and uncle probably won't want him back for Christmas.
Hurrah! That means I won't have to spend Christmas with just the twins
and Percy! Love again, Ron.'"
Ginny's mum shook her head. "You know, I know it's unkind, but I
can't help thinking little of those Muggles who are raising him. Don't
want him home for Christmas, indeed!" She purled furiously, her needles
clicking like gunfire. "And he's such a nice boy, too . . ."
"You know, Molly, it could be argued that we're doing precisely
the same thing--"
"That's quite different, Arthur. They're probably staying home,
and even if they were going somewhere, they could afford to take him along.
It's just--just--just pinch-heartedness, that's what it is . . ."
Ginny stared into the fire, picturing Harry all alone on Christmas morning,
his bed bare of gifts, his face forlorn as he watched the festivities.
"Mum," she said.
"And if they were here, I'd give them a piece of my mind, I would--"
"Mum!"
"Nothing like Lily or James, not that I knew them so very well but
I don't know how anyone human could've got in the same family--"
"MUM!"
"What is it, Ginny?" her dad asked.
"I--I just thought of something," she said, shy now that all
attention was on her.
"Well, what is it, dear?" her mum asked.
"I thought, since he doesn't have a mum or a dad, and his aunt and
uncle are so mean--I mean, mightn't we--couldn't we--"
"What?"
"MakeHarryaWeasleysweaterforChristmas," she said very fast.
"What?" said her father.
But her mother's eyes had gone very soft. "Oh, Ginny! What a lovely
thought, dear! How very sweet of you! Quite right, of course--he's not
likely to have very many gifts this Christmas, things being the way they
are. What color, do you think? Blue? Oh, no, I'm making the twins' in
blue. Purple?"
"Green, Mum--bright green!"
Arthur said helplessly, "What's green?"
His wife kept talking, the light of plotting in her eyes. "Of course,
just the thing, it'll bring out his eyes."
"Molly?"
"In a cable pattern, I think--"
"What's going on!"
Ginny and her mum looked at her dad as if he were daft. "We're going
to make Harry a Weasley sweater for Christmas," her mum explained.
"Oh," said her dad, looking relieved. "Molly--will you
have time for that?"
Her mum's face fell. "Oh, lord. I hadn't thought--here it is November
and I'm just barely starting on Percy's."
Ginny's face fell further. "But--he won't have a Christmas--"
"I could pack him a tin of fudge, I suppose--"
"That's just candy, Mum."
"Yes, but dear, these months are so terribly busy around here, you
know that."
Ginny did know that. Her mother, who had a heart open and generous enough
to mother the whole world, Muggles and all, sometimes had to be forcibly
restrained from concocting gifts for the mice that lived in their walls
and the sprites in their garden. "Mum," she said hesitantly.
"What if--what if I made it?"
"Oh, Ginny, that is sweet--but I don't think you're advanced enough
to make a sweater."
"I could learn!"
"Yes, but they're very difficult things, sweaters. Although . .
." Her mother tilted her head to study the lump of maroon yarn on
Ginny's lap. "Tell you what, darling. If you give me a little hand
and knit me some scarves--just simple ones, and I can put on the fringe--for
your aunts and uncles, I might be able to carve out enough time for Harry's
sweater, how's that?"
Ginny thought of endless evenings, purling one and knitting two. Then
she thought of Harry's face when he opened the package he hadn't been
expecting--when he wore his brand-new sweater for the first time--when
the news got to him (because she would certainly never tell, that would
be too much like bragging) that it had been her idea, and that she'd sacrificed
her time and patience so that he might have it-- "All right, Mum.
I--guess I could do that."
"Thank you so much, sweetheart. It'll be such a help, you don't
even realize-- Is that piece you're working on wide enough for a scarf?"
Ginny held it up. "Umm. Maybe I should start over."
Her mother winced at the tangled lump. "Yes, maybe you should."
As her dad went on to read Percy's letter, and then the twins', Ginny
bent over her hated knitting with new fervor, thinking of Harry. Knit
one, purl two, knit two, purl one . . .
