The summer after Ginny's second year at Hogwarts was a time of quiet consolidation, a stark contrast to the tumultuous, Horcrux-hunting frenzy of the previous one. With all major magical disciplines now maxed out, her focus shifted from raw power acquisition to the meticulous refinement of her innate abilities and the grand orchestration of future events. The Burrow, with its familiar chaos and comforting warmth, remained her sanctuary, her perfect disguise.
Her primary pursuit throughout the long, sun-drenched days was the deepening of her "Soul Echo" ability. No longer content with merely perceiving lingering historical imprints, Ginny sought to push its boundaries. She used the privacy of the Room of Requirement, accessed through her connection to Harry's bond even from afar, to conduct her most profound experiments. Focusing her intent, she began to reach not for the echoes of what was, but for the faintest ripples of what could be.
It was arduous work, a constant strain on her Spirit, but slowly, meticulously, she began to perceive them: faint, ephemeral impressions of 'potential futures', 'echoes of probability'. These weren't fixed destinies, but rather the most likely outcomes based on current magical and mundane currents. It was a form of limited foresight, a probabilistic divination that allowed her to see the most probable paths events might take. It was a tool of unparalleled strategic advantage.
Name: Ginevra Molly Weasley Race: Witch Magic: 14.6 Body: 3.2 Spirit: 14.1 Innate Abilities: Assimilate 1/3 (regen: 1/year (Total: 7/decade)), Parseltongue, Magic Perception, Superior Logical Processing Unit (1/1), Soul Perception, Soul Binding (1/1) - Linked with Harry James Potter (Bond: 15%), Basilisk Gaze (Passive - Level 4), Soul Echo (1/1), Curse Absorption (1/1) Skills: Cooking Lv.3 (4/4000), Flying Lv.5 (121/16000) Magicks: Enchantment Lv.10 (512000/512000 - MAX), Transfiguration Lv.10 (512000/512000 - MAX), Dark Magic Lv.10 (2048000/2048000 - MAX), Mind Magic Lv.10 (256000/256000 - MAX) Fame: Significant
With Soul Echo now at (1/1), Ginny felt a profound sense of completion. She had pushed her innate abilities to their current maximums, refined her magic to an absolute art. She could now "see" the currents of magic, history, and probability, all flowing together, waiting to be subtly redirected.
Her strategic focus shifted to Nagini, the last Horcrux. Through Soul Echo, she perceived various timelines involving Voldemort's return and Nagini's protection. Direct confrontation with Voldemort was still unwise. Instead, she began to mentally chart paths to isolate Nagini, to create the perfect window for its destruction without prematurely engaging the Dark Lord. This involved anticipating major events in the wizarding world, weighing the probabilities of specific individuals being in certain places, and analyzing the political and magical landscape for subtle leverage.
Harry's training was, as always, a cornerstone of her summer. She intensified his practical magical education, focusing on dueling spells, advanced defensive charms, and more complex applications of Parseltongue. They practiced in the secluded fields behind the Burrow, where Harry could let loose without fear of being overheard. Ginny, a whirlwind of precise, controlled power, pushed him to react faster, think quicker, and cast with more intent. His Soul Guard became a more active shield, capable of absorbing and redirecting a wider array of spells.
"Your control over your Parseltongue is remarkable, Harry," Ginny observed one afternoon as he instinctively hissed a command to a nearby garden snake, making it coil into a perfect defensive stance. "You could use it for more than just talking to snakes. Think about its potential in spellcasting, for example, shaping spells with the intent of a serpent."
Harry's eyes widened, a flicker of understanding passing through them. His bond with Ginny, now a robust 15%, pulsed with gratitude and dedication. He trusted her guidance implicitly.
Life at the Burrow was a constant exercise in maintaining her facade. She helped Molly with chores, played exploding snap with Ron, and laughed at Fred and George's increasingly elaborate pranks. Her family saw a happy, intelligent, and fiercely loyal Ginny, entirely unaware of the profound, calculating power that now resided within their youngest daughter.
As August drew to a close, Ginny looked forward to her third year at Hogwarts not with the usual excitement of a growing witch, but with the quiet anticipation of a master chess player returning to the board. The pieces were moving, and Ginny, armed with unprecedented power and the ability to perceive the currents of fate, was ready to begin her subtle, yet absolute, domination of the game. The wizarding world remained oblivious, a stage set for her meticulously planned performance.
The Hogwarts Express, a familiar iron serpent winding through the British countryside, carried Ginny back to a life of carefully constructed normalcy. Her third year beckoned, a stage upon which she would continue her silent ascent. The summer had not brought further acquisitions of power, but a deeper, more profound mastery of her existing ones, especially the nuanced ability of Soul Echo.
As she stepped onto the platform at Hogsmeade, Ginny activated Soul Echo. The usual cacophony of present emotions and memories was now overlaid with shimmering, ephemeral ripples of probability. She saw a flicker of rain in the forecast, a slight delay in the carriages due to a minor magical malfunction, a subtle shift in Dumbledore's plans for the evening. It was like seeing the world several moves ahead in a chess game, not definitively, but probabilistically.
The first tangible impact of her foresight came swiftly. During the Sorting Ceremony, Ginny perceived faint echoes of frustration and surprise from a new student, a nervous Hufflepuff who was about to accidentally knock over a stack of plates. With a minuscule, almost imperceptible flick of her wand, she subtly altered the trajectory of a falling spoon nearby, causing it to clatter loudly and draw the student's attention just enough to prevent the mishap. No one noticed, but the Hufflepuff was spared embarrassment, and Ginny filed away another successful, subtle intervention.
Classes resumed their familiar rhythm. Ginny effortlessly aced every subject, her maxed-out magical disciplines allowing her to grasp complex concepts with startling speed. Her Soul Echo provided invaluable insight, allowing her to anticipate obscure questions on exams or understand the subtle expectations of a new professor, Sybill Trelawney, whose fragmented, almost unreadable foresight Ginny could perceive as swirling, probabilistic currents, making it both amusing and mildly irritating.
Then came the Dementors. Their arrival was a chilling blight upon the castle, their presence a palpable drain on joy and hope. Ginny felt their oppressive aura with her heightened senses, their true nature laid bare by Soul Perception. But unlike the terror that seized most, Ginny found her own soul remained largely untouched. Her inner core, forged from assimilated Horcruxes and infused with ancient magic, radiated a cold, unyielding resolve that the Dementors' soul-draining power could not easily penetrate.
Harry, however, was severely affected. The sight of him collapsing on the train, later recounting the feeling of his mother's screams, ignited a fierce, protective instinct within Ginny. She knew the Dementors would be a recurring threat, and Harry's vulnerability was a weakness she could not tolerate.
During their next private training session in the Room of Requirement, Ginny brought up the Dementors. "They feed on despair, Harry. On fear. But they also attack the soul." She carefully explained, leaving out the specifics of Soul Perception, focusing on the commonly known facts. "You need a way to fight back, a shield from their darkness."
She began to teach him the Patronus Charm, not just the incantation, but the feeling behind it. Using her Soul Echo, she subtly guided him towards memories of pure, unadulterated happiness. She focused his intent, her own powerful magic a gentle current supporting his efforts. It was slow work, demanding immense emotional fortitude from Harry, but Ginny was patient. She foresaw the critical moments when Harry would need this spell, the specific probabilities of his encounters with the Dementors.
Dumbledore's scrutiny intensified with the arrival of the Dementors, his piercing blue eyes often finding Ginny in the Great Hall or corridors, lingering with a complex mixture of curiosity and concern. He seemed to sense her unusual resilience to the Dementors' presence, but Ginny's Occlumency shields remained an unblemished wall, revealing nothing but the bright, fierce spirit of a talented young witch. She offered him her usual innocent smile, a silent dare. Let him wonder. Let him ponder. Her secrets were her own.
As the term progressed, the whispers of Sirius Black's escape reached the castle, adding another layer of tension to the air. Ginny's Soul Echo provided a complex web of probabilities surrounding Black, his innocence, and his connection to Harry. She knew this was a significant turning point, an event she might need to subtly influence, but for now, she observed, prepared, and continued to shape her pawns for the grand game ahead. Her third year at Hogwarts was proving to be less about academic learning and more about the intricate dance of fate itself.
The Dementors were a persistent, chilling presence throughout Ginny's third year, their suffocating aura a constant reminder of the darkness that lurked just beyond Hogwarts' walls. Harry, more than anyone, bore the brunt of their effects, his past traumas a beacon for their malevolent hunger. It was during one particularly bleak Quidditch match, overshadowed by a horde of Dementors, that Ginny's meticulous training of him bore its most dramatic fruit.
As Harry fell from his broom, his consciousness succumbing to the Dementors' chill, Ginny felt a sharp pang of concern through their Soul Bond. Her training had to work. It would work. From the stands, she watched, a silent, powerful force willing him to succeed. Then, a brilliant, silver light erupted from Harry's wand – a stag, fully formed, charging forward, scattering the abominations. It was his first successful Patronus.
A wave of profound relief, mixed with pride, washed over Ginny. Harry had done it. He had taken her guidance, absorbed her teaching, and forged his own radiant shield. The crowd erupted, but Ginny's gaze was solely on Harry, his green eyes still shadowed by the ordeal but now alight with a new, fierce determination.
The Dementor incident, coupled with the escalating tension surrounding Sirius Black's escape, eventually led to the inevitable revelation about Peter Pettigrew. Ginny, armed with her Soul Echo's probabilistic foresight, had subtly nudged events. She had "accidentally" left a textbook open on a forgotten page about animagi in a common area where Hermione would find it, or "misplaced" a note detailing a specific location in the Shrieking Shack that Harry might discover. Her manipulations were invisible, plausible accidents, but they inexorably guided the narrative towards the truth. She knew the time-turner would play its part, and she allowed that potential future to unfold, observing the strands of causality with clinical precision.
Amidst the swirling events of the third year, Ginny began to notice two particular Slytherin students: Daphne and Astoria Greengrass. Daphne, the elder, possessed an aristocratic poise, her dark hair and cool, intelligent blue eyes betraying a sharp mind and a quiet confidence. Astoria, younger and more vivacious, often had a look of keen observation, a quick wit dancing in her bright green eyes. They moved through the castle with an air of refined detachment, never quite joining the boisterousness of their housemates, a subtle aura of independence about them.
Ginny's Soul Perception instinctively reached out, reading their auras. Daphne's was a blend of ambition and fierce loyalty, tempered by a surprising pragmatism. Astoria's was brighter, more curious, with an undercurrent of intense longing for something more than the superficiality of pure-blood society. They were powerful witches in their own right, and their minds, when Ginny subtly brushed against them with her Legilimency, were sharp and intricate. They were intriguing.
One afternoon, in a shared Transfiguration class, Ginny found herself partnered with Daphne for a particularly complex spell. Daphne, despite her evident skill, struggled with a nuanced piece of the enchantment that required a specific flow of magic. Ginny, with her maxed-out Transfiguration and Enchantment, understood the block instantly. Without a word, she subtly adjusted the angle of Daphne's wand, a fractional shift that was almost imperceptible.
Daphne's spell immediately flowed correctly, transforming the porcupine into a perfectly formed pincushion. Daphne's cool blue eyes snapped to Ginny, a flicker of surprise and keen observation in their depths. "Thank you, Weasley," she murmured, her voice smooth, a hint of genuine curiosity replacing her usual reserved tone.
Ginny merely offered a small, knowing smile. "Just a minor adjustment. Your intent was almost perfect."
Later, during a break in the Great Hall, Astoria caught Ginny's eye from the Slytherin table. Astoria gave her a brief, almost imperceptible nod, a silent acknowledgement of Ginny's rising prominence and perhaps, something more. Ginny returned the gesture, her gaze lingering for a moment longer. The Greengrass sisters were not just powerful; they possessed an inner depth that resonated with Ginny's own complex nature.
As the school year wound down, the chaotic events of Sirius Black's escape faded into legend, his name cleared, Peter Pettigrew exposed. Ginny had ensured the truth came out, not through brute force, but through the delicate manipulation of information, a testament to her honed abilities. The wizarding world breathed a collective sigh of relief, unaware of the puppet master pulling the strings.
Ginny, however, knew better. The pieces were constantly shifting. Her mind, now free from the immediate crisis, began to ponder new possibilities. Nagini still remained, a future challenge. But beyond that, her gaze settled on the evolving landscape of power, and, subtly, on the two intriguing Slytherins who had captured her attention. The game, Ginny realized, was only just beginning.
The aftermath of Sirius Black's escape and Peter Pettigrew's revelation left Hogwarts in a strange state of uneasy calm. The Dementors, though still present, were less overtly aggressive, perhaps due to Harry's burgeoning Patronus Charm. Ginny observed the shifts in the magical currents of the castle, noting the subtle undercurrents of residual fear and a renewed sense of cautious optimism. She allowed the general narrative to unfold, knowing her prior nudges had set the course correctly.
Harry, meanwhile, was flourishing. His confidence had surged after his successful Patronus, and Ginny's continued training solidified his burgeoning magical prowess. He no longer hesitated in casting defensive spells, and his Mind Magic, though still rudimentary compared to Ginny's, allowed him to perceive intentions and subtle emotional cues that often went unnoticed by Ron or Hermione. He was becoming the formidable wizard Ginny envisioned, a powerful force for the light, carefully guided by her unseen hand.
Ginny's attention, however, was increasingly drawn to the Greengrass sisters. Her Soul Perception often picked up their unique magical signatures, distinct from the usual Slytherin ambition. There was a quiet strength in Daphne, an intellectual curiosity in Astoria that resonated with Ginny's own nature.
One late afternoon, Ginny found them in a secluded corner of the library, poring over a rare tome on ancient wards. Ginny, having long since devoured every book on wards in the library, recognized the text immediately.
"That's a fascinating book," Ginny commented, her voice soft, as she approached, feigning interest in a nearby shelf. "One of the few that truly delves into the practical applications of multi-layered runic enchantments."
Daphne looked up, her cool blue eyes meeting Ginny's. Astoria, startled, glanced over too. "Indeed," Daphne replied, a flicker of surprise in her expression. "Most texts only cover the theory. This one details the actual construction, but some of the diagrams are... obscure."
"They're not obscure if you understand the intent behind the original caster," Ginny offered, a casual remark that held layers of truth. "Often, ancient magic isn't about rote memorization, but about channeling the precise emotional and intellectual focus of its creator."
Daphne's brow furrowed, a new thought dawning in her eyes. Astoria, meanwhile, leaned forward, her green eyes bright with curiosity. "You mean, like... empathizing with the enchantment?" Astoria asked, her voice quiet but sharp.
"More than that," Ginny explained, her mind subtly drawing on her Soul Echo to pull insights from the book's long-dead authors. "Understanding the why behind the runes, the purpose the wizard sought to achieve. It's like understanding a language – you can know the words, but if you don't grasp the culture, the meaning is lost." She casually pointed to a particularly complex diagram. "For example, this sequence here isn't just about deflection; it's about channeling disruptive energies away from the core, almost absorbing them before they can strike."
Daphne and Astoria exchanged a look, a silent communication passing between them. Their initial surprise morphed into genuine intrigue. Ginny had, without revealing her full power, just demonstrated a depth of magical understanding that far surpassed typical third-year knowledge.
"That's... a very insightful perspective, Weasley," Daphne said slowly, her tone now laced with respect. "We hadn't considered it that way."
Astoria chimed in, a slight blush on her cheeks. "Do you often study ancient wards, Ginny? It's not exactly popular."
"I find all magic fascinating," Ginny replied with a demure smile, her internal thoughts a whirlwind. 'They're curious. Good.' "There's so much more to learn beyond the curriculum."
For the next hour, they engaged in a quiet, intense discussion about wards, enchantments, and the philosophy of magic. Ginny subtly guided the conversation, offering glimpses of her unique insights gained from Assimilating ancient enchantments and using Soul Echo. She noted the intelligence, the ambition, and a surprising lack of prejudice in their shared pursuit of knowledge.
As the library began to empty, Daphne closed the book. "We should do this again, Weasley. Your insights are... unique."
"I'd like that," Ginny said, her smile genuine for a fleeting moment. She sensed a connection forming, a quiet resonance with the two Slytherin sisters. They were not merely pawns; they were complex, intelligent individuals who could be valuable allies, or perhaps, something more. The subtle threads of fascination she perceived in their auras hinted at a deeper potential.
Walking back to Gryffindor Tower, Ginny pondered the interaction. The Greengrass sisters were sophisticated, intelligent, and seemed unburdened by the usual house rivalries when it came to genuine magical curiosity. They were intriguing, certainly. And in her vast, cold ambition, Ginny realized there was a certain warmth to be found in shared intellect, in mutual understanding. The path she had chosen was solitary, but perhaps, just perhaps, it didn't have to be entirely so. Her mind, ever plotting, began to consider the new, delightful possibilities these connections offered.
As the third year at Hogwarts progressed, Ginny's interactions with Daphne and Astoria Greengrass grew more frequent, more natural. What began as intellectual curiosity in the library branched out into casual encounters in the corridors, subtle nods across the Great Hall, and shared observations during less-than-stimulating classes. Ginny's Soul Perception buzzed with intriguing data from their auras; a burgeoning respect from Daphne, a growing fascination from Astoria that bordered on quiet awe.
They started seeking her out, often. During a free period, Ginny might find Daphne waiting near the Gryffindor common room entrance, feigning interest in the portraits, only to subtly invite Ginny to a discussion on the finer points of ancient curses. Astoria, more direct, would sometimes approach her at meals, her green eyes sparkling with a question about a particularly obscure magical theory Ginny had once referenced.
Ginny found herself genuinely enjoying their company. Their intellect was sharp, their ambition a familiar echo of her own, and their candid, often dry, observations of the wizarding world were a refreshing change from the sometimes naive idealism of her Gryffindor peers. She felt a rare, unexpected warmth when in their presence, a sense of being truly seen, if not entirely understood.
One blustery afternoon, during a particularly chaotic Care of Magical Creatures lesson involving blast-ended skrewts, Ginny noticed Astoria looking overwhelmed and slightly nauseated by the creatures' stench and violent movements. Professor Hagrid, bless his heart, was struggling to contain them. Ginny, with a practiced subtlety, used her Soul Echo to perceive the most probable path of a runaway skrewt, then, with a minute burst of Transfiguration, caused a nearby bucket of fish guts to accidentally tip over, creating a diversion that drew the skrewt away from Astoria and towards a less-populated area.
Astoria, who had just braced herself for impact, blinked. She looked from the diverted skrewt to Ginny, who was standing casually, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on her lips. Astoria's lips twitched, a silent, knowing laugh passing between them. "Lucky fish guts," Astoria mouthed, her eyes full of amusement and a deeper, unspoken understanding. Ginny merely winked. It was a small, shared secret, a moment of unusual levity that deepened their unspoken connection.
Later, as they walked back to the castle, away from the lingering stench of the skrewts, Daphne joined them. "That was... a rather convenient accident, Weasley," Daphne commented, a hint of dry amusement in her tone.
"Indeed," Ginny replied, her smile widening. "Sometimes, the universe just aligns itself for the observant."
Astoria giggled, a bright, clear sound. "You have a knack for it, Ginny." She used her first name, a casual intimacy that Ginny noted with a faint flutter in her chest – a feeling she hadn't quite cataloged before.
Ginny's internal monologue, usually so focused on strategy and power, found itself increasingly analyzing the Greengrass sisters. Her probabilistic foresight, while still charting the larger political and magical currents, began to offer tantalizing glimpses of potential futures involving them. She perceived a growing closeness, a bond that could strengthen her position in the wizarding world, but also, surprisingly, a source of genuine companionship. They were intelligent, ambitious, and their presence offered a unique, unexpected comfort. The prospect of having them, not merely as allies, but as hers, began to subtly settle into her strategic mind.
The third year concluded with the usual fanfare. Exams were easily conquered, Harry's progress was stellar, and Dumbledore's knowing glances remained, though Ginny's facade held strong. As Ginny packed her trunk, a sense of eager anticipation, distinct from her usual relentless drive for power, filled her. The summer holidays lay ahead, a time usually dedicated to ruthless self-improvement. But this summer, she sensed, might also be a time for nurturing these new, intriguing connections. The game of power was intricate, but Ginny was discovering that even in the cold calculus of control, there was room for warmth, for shared glances, and for silent, knowing smiles.