Ginny was really the perfect choice if he had to choose for one of his friends to find out the truth. Either Ginny or Neville: both were unassuming and supportive and loyal. But Harry was glad it was Ginny instead of Neville. He liked Neville a lot, but if he only had one person in the world to confide in, Neville wouldn't be his first choice. He had a feeling that it could get really awkward with Neville, and he didn't know if the boy would be able to act normally under the circumstances.
Ginny was handling everything wonderfully. She never called attention to the fact that anything was up. And she didn't push him to tell her everything. She was happy with whatever he was willing to give. In a way he was glad that she had found out. At least now he had someone around who knew, at least somewhat, what was going on in his life. He had Sirius to talk to at night as well, but it was nice having someone his own age, who was at Hogwarts, who could potentially help him out, cover for him if need be.
He was so caught up in his musings and his training that, before he knew it, he was glancing down at his watch to find that Ginny was already out of class. He rushed out of the room and down two flights of stairs to his office. When he threw the door open, he found Ginny sitting in front of the empty fireplace waiting patiently.
"Merlin, Harry! You look terrible," she exclaimed. Then she seemed to realize exactly what she had said and began backpedaling. "I don't mean you look ugly or anything. It's just, you're all sweaty and your face is flushed and you seem to have a couple cuts on your face."
Too much diving around for his own good, apparently. "It's alright, Gin. I don't imagine I look my best right now, but I was just doing some training, so what do you expect? Sorry I'm late. Why don't you have a seat at my desk? All the ingredients are there, and I've written out instructions for you. While you get started on preparing the ingredients, I'm gonna get cleaned up. Then I'll give you a hand with everything."
"Ok…" she said, thinking over what he had said. "You run up to Gryffindor Tower then. I'll be fine here until you get back."
"That won't be necessary," he said. "I'll be back before you know it." Then, without explaining a thing, he pulled his trunk out of his pocket, enlarged it, opened it up, and climbed right in. She was staring at the trunk for several minutes before she realized it and shook herself out of her stupor.
She looked down at the desk and found the instructions that he had told her about. He wasn't kidding when he said he had written them out. There, on a piece of parchment, was a scribbled list of ingredients and the steps to take in preparing the potion. The writing was a little messier than his usual correspondence. He had probably written the instructions up in a hurry. But it was at least still legible. So she began preparing the ingredients as he had instructed her to do.
Several minutes later, she glanced up and was startled to see Harry grinning back at her. "Hey. So how's it going so far?"
Not one to be distracted from what she wanted, Ginny ignored his question and asked one of her own. "Where did you go? And how? And how did you get back here?"
He chuckled. It was such a refreshing thing to hear Harry laugh. After everything he had been through in his life, culminating in the rebirth of Voldemort and the death of his godfather, Harry had every right to be angry, upset, and inconsolable. He had every right to lash out at the world. And he had done a little of that last year. He was never intentionally hurtful to anyone, but he did have some problems with his temper the previous year. But in spite of everything bad that had happened in his life, he never let it change him.
The only thing different about him this year was that he seemed to overcome some of his shyness. And that could hardly be considered a bad thing. He didn't let all the bad things that happened to him kill his spirit. He still loved life and would never stop fighting to create a world where people would be able to enjoy their lives in peace without the threat of a dark lord hanging over them. And in the meantime, he seemed determined not to let that threat and fear control him. He had written to her over the summer saying that he refused to let Voldemort win. And putting your life on hold worrying about what was going to happen would be doing just that. So he was living his life in the meantime. And it was an inspiration. If he could do it, anybody could. He had more reason to let this war drag him down than anyone else.
His laughter died down and his voice brought her out of her musings. "Well, to put it quite simply: I went into my trunk to take a shower. When I was finished, I came back out."
She just stared at him. What kind of explanation was that? "Maybe you should start earlier than that. Where did you get this trunk of yours? And how did you shower inside of it?"
He laughed again. It didn't warm her heart quite as much as the last time because she was quite anxious to hear what he had to say. Before she knew it, he was talking again. "Well, I bought this trunk over the summer," he said, as he walked over and patted the trunk. "It's one of the models that has several different compartments, not just for storage but also containing rooms. I have a bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, and living room all inside of there. So I went inside, took a shower in the bathroom, then I came back out."
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