The Burrow was quiet at this hour, the soft creaks of the old house settling into the morning. Ginny Weasley lay awake on her bed, staring at the wooden ceiling above her, the soft glow of the morning sun filtered through the windows, casting soft glow in the room. The posters of Holyhead Harpies rustled slightly as a cool morning breeze filtered through the half-open window.
Yet, despite the comforting familiarity of her home, Ginny's mind refused to rest.
Her thoughts had once again wandered to a certain raven haired boy with emerald eyes.
It was ridiculous, really. She barely knew him, not truly. A summer of shared meals, laughter, and stolen moments of play hardly meant anything. Not when he had left for Hogwarts and hadn't even written to her. Ginny scowled at herself, turning over onto her side. She wasn't some lovesick fool. She wasn't. But the quiet ache in her chest suggested otherwise.
Why would he write to me anyway? she thought bitterly. I'm just Ron's little sister. That's all I am to him.
He was the Boy Who Lived. His life with the Dursleys was something Ginny could only imagine. The Dursleys being one of the richest families of magical Britain and him being almost a son to them. He also had survived an encounted with You-Know-Who as a baby. Of course he had better things to do than write to a girl he had only met this summer. A girl who—let's be honest—had made a fool of herself by starring at him like some starstruck idiot the first time they properly met.
Merline, she still cringed at the memory but when Harry was in front of her suddenly, she couldn't help but hyperventilate.
Truth be told, she hadn't expected him to be… normal.
Not normal in the boring way. No, Harry Potter was anything but boring. But he was kind. Thoughtful. He had played with her like she was an equal, not just Ron's younger sister. And he had even bought her sweets—an entire box of assorted candies just because he thought they had been scared of him that day.
Ginny let out a sigh, pressing her pillow over her face in frustration.
Why was she even thinking about him at this hour? It wasn't as if anything was going to change. Harry was at Hogwarts, living his grand magical life, and she was here at the Burrow, still a year away from even setting foot in those hallowed halls.
She had to stop. She had to be more than just some girl waiting around for a boy to notice her. One day, she thought, determination settling in her chest, I'll make sure Harry sees me—not as Ron's sister, but as Ginny Weasley.
A sudden soft thud at her window startled her out of her thoughts.
Frowning, she sat up, glancing toward the window. Something pale and feathery fluttered just outside the glass.
"Hedwig?"
She scrambled out of bed, her heart pounding as she rushed to open the window. The snowy owl hooted softly in greeting, flapping her wings before gracefully perching on Ginny's desk. Attached to her leg was a neatly wrapped package and a folded letter.
For a moment, Ginny just stared.
Harry had written to her.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she untied the letter and the package, her breath catching in her throat. He had actually written to her.
And he had sent her something, too.
Forgetting everything else, she hurriedly unwrapped the package, revealing a delicate golden flower that pulsed with a soft, warm glow. It was beautiful—almost unreal. She had never seen anything like it.
She swallowed, her throat tight with emotions she didn't quite understand.
With shaking hands, she unfolded the letter.
Harry had written to her.
As she read, a slow, uncontrollable smile spread across her face.
Maybe… just maybe… she wasn't just Ron's little sister after all.
Ginny traced her fingers over the white petals of the flower, mesmerized by the way it shimmered with a faint red halo. She had no idea what kind of flower it was, but it felt… warm, almost alive. A gentle hum of magic pulsed beneath her fingertips, filling her with an inexplicable sense of comfort.
She turned her gaze back to the letter, rereading the familiar scrawl of Harry's handwriting. A part of her still couldn't believe it—Harry had actually thought of her. He had sent her something.
A giggle bubbled in her throat before she could stop it.
If any of her brother's saw her now, he'd tease her endlessly. But she didn't care. Not when Harry had sent her something so special.
She set the flower down carefully on her bedside table, then glanced back at Hedwig, who was watching her expectantly.
"Oh! Right—water," she murmured, quickly grabbing an empty cup and filling it with water from a pitcher on her desk. She set it in front of the owl. "There you go, girl. Thank you for bringing this."
Hedwig hooted softly, dipping her beak into the water before fluffing her feathers. Ginny hesitated for a moment before reaching out and stroking the snowy white plumage. To her delight, Hedwig leaned into her touch.
"You must be tired from the trip," Ginny said, still petting her. "Did you make all the way from Hogwarts in just one night?"
Hedwig gave an indignant hoot, as if to say, Of course I did. I'm a professional.
Ginny chuckled, shaking her head. "You really are amazing."
A sudden thought struck her—should she write back?
Her heart pounded at the idea. She wanted to. But what would she even say? Would Harry think she was silly for replying too soon?
Hedwig stayed for a few more minutes before lifting off gracefully, gliding back into the morning sky. Ginny watched her disappear into the sky, her heart still hammering.
She turned her attention back to the flower.
What is this?
Harry hadn't explained much about it in the letter, only hinting that she should ask her mum if she wanted to know more. That thought made her frown slightly.
Mum would know about it?
It wasn't unusual for her mother to know about rare magical plants—after all she had quite the talent for Herbology. But something about this felt different.
Ginny stared at the glowing white petals, mesmerized by the way they pulsed, as if in rhythm with something unseen. She knew she wouldn't be able to get through her day without wanting to know about this flower. But she didn't want to ask her mother.
Carefully, she set the flower down on her nightstand, ensuring it was safe before she reached for the letter once more. As she reread Harry's words, her earlier insecurities melted away.
Maybe she wasn't just Ron's little sister.
Maybe… maybe Harry had noticed her after all.
And that thought filled her with a warmth far stronger than the glow of the flower beside her.
"Ginny! Ginny!"
The voice barely registered in her mind at first, a distant echo as she traced the glowing white petals of the flower, lost in thought.
"Ginevra Molly Weasley!"
Ginny snapped out of her daze just as her bedroom door swung open. She jumped, shoving the letter under her pillow on reflex.
Mrs. Weasley stood at the doorway, hands on her hips, her face a mixture of exasperation and concern. "Honestly, dear, I've been calling you for ages! Breakfast is ready, and your father is waiting. What's got you so—"
Her words cut off as her gaze fell upon the softly glowing flower on Ginny's nightstand.
For a moment, Mrs. Weasley just stared.
The warm, pulsing glow of the Luminaflora Diurna cast an ethereal shimmer across the wooden surface, its delicate petals shifting faintly as if responding to the presence in the room. The air around it seemed lighter, infused with an almost invisible golden hue.
"Ginny," Mrs. Weasley's voice was quieter now, almost hesitant, "where did you get that?"
Ginny swallowed, suddenly feeling like she had been caught sneaking into the twins' room to steal their prank supplies. "Um—"
Mrs. Weasley stepped closer, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied the flower with a mixture of awe and disbelief. "That's a Luminaflora Diurna," she murmured, more to herself than to Ginny. "But how—these are incredibly rare…"
Ginny bit her lip, unsure whether she should tell the truth or try to downplay it. But there was no point in hiding it—not when her mother was looking at the flower as if it shouldn't even be here.
"Harry sent it to me," she admitted quietly.
Mrs. Weasley's head snapped up, her eyes widening. "Harry?"
Ginny nodded, forcing herself to meet her mother's gaze. "Hedwig came early this morning—around four, I think. She brought a letter… and the flower."
There was a beat of silence.
Mrs. Weasley blinked, then sat down on the edge of Ginny's bed, rubbing her forehead as if trying to process everything.
"Harry Potter sent you a Luminaflora Diurna," she repeated slowly, her tone unreadable.
Ginny hesitated. "…Yes?"
Mrs. Weasley exhaled, shaking her head slightly. "Ginny, do you have any idea what this flower does?"
Ginny glanced at the delicate bloom, then back at her mother. "I… not really. I just thought it was pretty."
Mrs. Weasley let out a soft chuckle, though there was still something almost serious in her eyes. "It is. But it's more than that." She reached out, brushing a gentle hand over the petals. "According to magical botany texts, keeping one in a room guarantees restful sleep and pleasant dreams. They're known to ward off nightmares and promote a deep sense of peace."
Ginny stared at the flower, stunned.
"Only a handful of these exist in wizarding gardens, and they don't bloom often. They require a strong, steady source of magic to thrive—and they don't usually bond with just anyone." Mrs. Weasley gave her a knowing look. "Harry must have known what he was giving you."
Ginny's face grew hot. "I—I don't know! He didn't say much in the letter. Just that if I wanted to know more, I should ask you."
Mrs. Weasley hummed in thought, her expression softening. "It's a thoughtful gift, dear. Very thoughtful." She hesitated before adding, "Especially considering how hard it is to get one. You don't just walk into a shop and buy a Luminaflora Diurna."
Ginny's breath hitched.
He went out of his way to get this?
For her?
She looked down at the letter, still half-hidden beneath her pillow. Her fingers twitched with the urge to reread it for the tenth time.
Mrs. Weasley's expression turned gentle. "Do you want to tell me what he wrote?"
Ginny hesitated, clutching the letter tighter. "It was just… nice," she said vaguely. "Nothing big."
Her mother gave her a knowing smile, but didn't push.
"Well," Mrs. Weasley finally said, rising to her feet, "if this is what he sent you, I'd say Harry Potter is a boy with a good heart."
Ginny bit her lip, warmth spreading through her chest.
Mrs. Weasley reached down and tucked a strand of hair behind Ginny's ear, her touch comforting. "Come down and eat, sweetheart. Your father will be leaving for work soon, and I don't want you skipping breakfast."
Ginny nodded distractedly. "I'll be down in a minute."
Mrs. Weasley gave the flower one last glance before leaving the room, closing the door softly behind her.
As soon as she was gone, Ginny flopped onto her bed, staring up at the ceiling.
A Luminaflora Diurna. From Harry.
She pressed the letter to her chest, a giddy smile breaking across her face.
Maybe she wasn't just Ron's little sister after all.
Monday morning at Hogwarts was always a sluggish affair. The Great Hall buzzed with half-awake students, the clinking of cutlery, and the flutter of owl wings delivering the day's post. The enchanted ceiling mirrored the cloudy sky outside, casting a soft, diffused light over the long house tables.
Harry sat at the Gryffindor table, lazily spooning cereal into his mouth, enjoying the calm before the day truly began. He glanced up towards the entrance hoping to see either Ron or Hermione walking in. But to his surprise both of them entered the Great Hall together, deep in conversation.
A smirk tugged at Harry's lips. He was glad to see them getting along, considering their future. Thankfully without him having to do anything, they seemed to have taken to each other. And most importantly, he didn't have to go down that road with Hermione. Even so, he couldn't help but tease them.
"Well, well," Harry said, setting his spoon down with an amused glint in his eyes. "You two came here together? Anything I should be aware of?"
Hermione's step faltered slightly as she reached for a seat, and Ron—predictably—went red in the ears.
"Nothing's happening, mate," Ron said hastily, plopping onto the bench with a huff. "I overslept, and when I woke up, you were gone. Could've at least woken me up, you know." He grabbed a slice of toast, shooting Harry a mildly accusatory look. "Since I couldn't find you, I figured I'd just come here. Ran into Hermione on the way down, and, well… here we are."
Harry hummed in response, stirring his cereal absentmindedly. He could hardly tell them where he'd really been—wandering into the Forbidden Forest before dawn to meet Lumos, slipping the creature treats he'd smuggled from the kitchens. That was a tale for another time.
Instead, he gave Ron a sheepish grin. "Didn't want to disturb your beauty sleep," he said lightly. "Besides, we don't have classes till later. I just woke up early, went for a walk, and figured I'd get breakfast before the rush."
Ron grumbled something unintelligible around a mouthful of toast, while Hermione, still slightly pink, arched an eyebrow. "A walk? Where?"
Harry shrugged, keeping his expression carefully neutral. "Oh, just around."
Hermione gave him a scrutinizing look, but before she could press further, Ron groaned.
"If you say you were up studying, I swear—"
Harry snorted. "Relax, I wasn't. Though maybe you should, seeing as how you've got Hermione dragging you to the library every other day."
Ron let out an exaggerated sigh and slumped onto the table dramatically. "Help me, mate. She's relentless."
Hermione rolled her eyes but didn't deny it. "It's called being prepared, Ronald."
Harry chuckled, shaking his head. Same old Ron and Hermione. He took another bite of his cereal, watching as Ron stole a bite of Hermione's toast and received an unimpressed glare in return.
Yeah. He'd tell them about Lumos soon enough. But for now, he was content to sit back and enjoy the morning chaos.
As the morning meal carried on, Hermione turned to Harry with a determined look that made him instinctively brace himself.
"Harry," she began, setting down her goblet, "you have to start teaching me some of those spells you've been using."
Harry sighed, already seeing where this was going. "Hermione—"
"I'm serious!" she interrupted, leaning forward. "You perform spells effortlessly, even ones we haven't learned yet. It's not fair that you're keeping all that knowledge to yourself."
"I'm not keeping it to myself," Harry said, taking another bite of cereal. "It's just… not all of it can be learned from books."
Hermione huffed. "Then teach me."
Ron, who had been buttering his toast, joined in. "She's got a point, mate. You make magic look easy. If we can learn even a bit of what you know, we might actually survive this place."
Harry chuckled. "Oh, come on, Ron. It's only been a few weeks. We haven't even faced anything dangerous yet."
Not to mention I haven't even shown you guys any of the real magic I do.
"Yet," Ron muttered. "With you around, I feel like it's only a matter of time."
Hermione ignored Ron's dramatics and focused on Harry. "You can't expect me not to be curious. You're doing things no first-year should be able to do! Just one spell?"
Harry sighed again but relented. "Fine. One spell. Later."
Hermione beamed. "Brilliant."
Before she could press further, Harry quickly changed the subject. "What lessons do we have today, anyway?"
Hermione, ever prepared, pulled out her timetable from her bag and scanned it. "Let's see… we have History of Magic first, then Charms, and—oh!" Her eyes lit up. "Our first flying lesson is this afternoon!"
Ron nearly choked on his toast. "Finally! Something I might actually be good at!"
Harry grinned. He had been looking forward to this as well. As the trio settled back into their breakfast, a loud exclamation from beside them caught their attention.
"Hey, look everyone! Neville got a Remembrall!" Seamus announced, his voice carrying over the general chatter.
Curious, the trio turned to see Neville holding a small, round glass ball in his palm. Inside, swirls of white smoke drifted lazily, giving it an almost ethereal appearance.
"My gran sent it to me," Neville explained, a mixture of pride and nervousness on his face. "She knows I forget things all the time. This lets you know if there's something you've forgotten."
He gripped the ball firmly in his hand. Almost immediately, the white smoke turned a deep shade of red.
"Oh…" Neville's face fell. "…I've forgotten something."
Ron peered over, interested. "Well, what did you forget?"
Neville frowned. "I—I don't know. That's the problem, isn't it?"
Before anyone could say anything else, a hand shot out and snatched the Remembrall right from Neville's fingers.
"Oi!" Neville yelped in surprise, turning sharply.
Draco Malfoy stood there, lazily tossing the Remembrall up and catching it with ease. Crabbe and Goyle flanked him, smirking as they loomed behind him like bodyguards.
"So this little thing tells you when you've forgotten something?" Draco mused, inspecting the glass sphere. "Shame it doesn't tell you what you've forgotten. Seems pretty useless to me."
"Give it back, Malfoy," Neville said, but his voice lacked conviction.
Draco ignored him, holding the Remembrall up to the light. "I wonder what happens if I—"
He pretended to throw it, making Neville flinch. Crabbe and Goyle snickered.
Harry set his spoon down and stood up. The noise around them seemed to dull slightly as those nearby turned to watch.
Harry wasn't angry. Not outwardly. His expression remained calm, his stance relaxed. But there was something about the way he was looking at Draco—unmoving, expectant, like he was simply waiting for Malfoy to make the right decision.
"Draco," he said, voice steady but firm. "Give it back to him."
Draco hesitated, just for a fraction of a second.
Ron and Hermione had gone still. Neville looked between Harry and Malfoy, uncertain of what was about to happen.
Draco scoffed, rolling the Remembrall between his fingers. "Relax, Potter. I'm just having a bit of fun."
Harry didn't move, didn't blink. "It's not yours. Give it back."
Draco's smirk slipped from his face as he remembered what had happened in the train. Still, he wasn't about to back down completely. "I could just drop it, you know. Accidents happen."
Harry tilted his head slightly. "And I could make sure you regret it."
The words weren't loud. They weren't a threat. Not exactly. But the way Harry said them, like he was merely stating a fact, sent a flicker of doubt across Draco's face.
He clicked his tongue in irritation before tossing the Remembrall onto the table.
"Fine. Wasn't worth keeping anyway."
Neville scrambled to grab it, clutching it tightly.
Draco turned sharply on his heel. "Come on," he muttered to Crabbe and Goyle, stalking off.
The tension in the air eased as conversation resumed around them.
Ron let out a low whistle. "Well, that was brilliant."
Neville looked at Harry, eyes wide with gratitude. "Thanks, Harry."
Harry simply shrugged, sitting back down and picking up his spoon. "He just needed a little convincing."
Hermione folded her arms, still frowning. "You shouldn't have provoked him. What if he tries something later?"
Harry smirked as he picked up a sandwich. "Then he'll find out the consequences like he did on the train."
As the Great Hall buzzed with chatter and the scraping of cutlery, the trio finished their breakfast. Students were beginning to leave in groups, heading off to their dormitories or common rooms before the first lessons of the day.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione pushed their plates aside and stood up. As they turned to leave, Harry reached out and casually grabbed a few mini tarts and small meat pies from the serving platter, stuffing them into his robe pocket.
Ron raised an eyebrow. "Planning for a long day, are you?"
Harry smirked. "You never know when you'll need a snack."
Ron considered this for a moment before shrugging and grabbing a muffin for himself. "Fair point."
Hermione, however, gave them both a disapproving look. "You do realize we're heading straight back to the common room, right? You could just eat more there instead of sneaking food like some sort of—"
"Survivalist genius?" Harry offered, grinning.
Hermione huffed and muttered something about boys and their never-ending appetites but didn't argue further as they joined the stream of students heading out of the Great Hall.
The corridors were filled with the usual morning rush, students chattering about their schedules, their weekend escapades, and—most prominently—the upcoming flying lesson.
"So," Ron said, changing the topic, "I can't believe we're actually having flying lessons today." His face lit up with excitement. "Finally, something fun!"
"You've flown before?" Hermione asked, looking between them.
Ron puffed up a little. "Of course! Grew up in a wizarding family, didn't I? My brothers let me borrow their brooms a few times—not the best ones, mind you, since they never let me near their Cleansweeps, but I've got the hang of it."
"I can't wait to get on a broom again," Ron said, stretching his arms. "It's been ages since I've flown."
Harry nodded. "Yeah, same here. Abigail and I flew around our estate all the time, but there's only so much you can do with just two people. I never really got to try a proper Quidditch match."
Ron protested, "Hey! What about when you came to my house?"
"Well that wasn't real quidditch was it?" Harry retorted.
Ron scoffed. "It was close enough! We had goalposts and everything!"
Harry smirked. "Ron, you had two barrels set up in the orchard, and we were using an old Quaffle Charlie left behind. I don't think that counts."
Ron huffed, crossing his arms. "Still better than nothing. And I actually had people to play with, unlike you."
Harry chuckled. "Fair point."
Hermione, who had been listening with mild disinterest, shook her head. "I still don't understand what's so thrilling about zooming around on a stick."
Ron gawked at her. "Zooming around on a stick? Hermione, it's flying! It's not just a mode of transport—it's an experience!"
Harry grinned. "You might end up liking it."
Hermione sniffed. "Highly unlikely."
Ron leaned over to Harry and muttered, "Bet she'll be the first one to fall off."
Hermione shot him a glare. "I heard that."
Harry laughed as they reached the portrait hole and stepped inside the common room. Students were scattered about, some nervously re-reading their flying lesson instructions, while others excitedly speculated about what they'd get to do.
"Right," Harry said, stretching. "Let's get changed and meet back here."
Ron nodded. "No way I'm flying in this heavy robe."
They split up, heading to their respective dormitories. As Harry changed, he pocketed one of the mini tarts from earlier, grinning to himself. The day was only just beginning, and he had a feeling things were about to get interesting.