Chapter 1 : Introduction: The Muggle Book
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A crack of thunder resounded outside in the pouring rain, making her jump and look up. Ginny Weasley blinked a bit tiredly as she sat in her bed, studying late at night and trying to keep awake. Tomorrow was a wicked test from Snape, of course, and she had yet to completely memorize a very hard and complicated potion ingredient list. Being Head Girl and the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain had it’s drawbacks, she was always busy. It was late March, though, so she had Easter holidays to look forward to. She couldn’t help a small smile at that, thinking of Harry.
He and Ron were currently taking lessons in the Aurism institute in South London, well on their way to a bright future as Aurors, the top of their class. Hermione had graduated from Hogwarts with valedictorian marks, and was now studying quantum magics (very difficult and new magic being explored on the scientific field, so advanced that they were actually finding the magical genes and ways to prevent certain magical illnesses, such as the Spark Flu). She was also doing side projects, one on stem cells being fed by magic, and another re-cataloging the entire Restricted Section of the Library for Madam Pince, as it was getting a bit out of hand.
But still, the thought of being with Harry for a week made Ginny’s insides warm. No doubt Ron would be watching like his usual hawkish self, but he’d not caught them yet. After all, they were both very elusive Quidditch players, and that didn’t stop off the field. Molly was also one to keep an eye on them, and Arthur just cleared his throat a bit uneasily whenever the subject of their dating was brought up. She sighed, shaking her head, and tossed her long red locks back over one shoulder.
Looking round her room, which was the private Head Girl dorm, she remembered that she’d nicked a bunch of books from Hermione the last time she’d been to her and Ron’s flat. For, of course, they’d finally gotten married. That had been about a month or so ago, and now everyone was just waiting for some news of a baby. Of course, they wanted it mainly to distract themselves from the war going on round.
Just last week, another round of fighting had broken out in a side street near Knockturn Alley. When the wizarding authorities had finally been able to find the scene of the fighting, which had demolished a brick building, the rubble revealed three cadavers, all mangled and with their eyes pulled out, swinging from their sockets. The paper hadn’t been allowed to publish the pictures of the victims, because the Ministry said that they were far too graphic. The whole story had been heavily watered down, but as Bill and Arthur worked in the Ministry, they’d gotten hold of the original version before it was trashed. A week before that, there’d been an attack on a Muggle school in the Welsh countryside, and it left thirty children dead. The massacre had been blamed on an explosion in the basement of the school. Ginny still couldn’t get the faces of the devastated parents out of her mind, as they’d been published in the Muggle paper.
Shaking her head, hearing another rumble of thunder as rain pelted the dark windows, she reached on her bed stand, rummaging in a large cardboard box for something to read. She grabbed the first thing that her fingers liked the feel of. Dumping her work aside, and straightening her pillows up against the headboard so that she could sit up comfortably, Ginny saw that the cover had been torn off, it was so old, and many of the pages were soft and dog eared. Turning the page, she saw immediately that it was a Muggle book, as the credits for printing and authorship weren’t moving. Turning the next delicate page, she saw an introduction, and skipped it over to the page that said the dedication. Scanning it quickly, she turned the page and murmured to herself,
“Chapter 1, The Cyclone. Dorothy lived in the midst of the great Kansas prairies, with Uncle Henry, who was a farmer, and Aunt Em, who was the farmer’s wife... Kansas.... That’s in America, hmm...”
Settling a bit deeper into her warm bed, Ginny curiously continued to read, coming to recognize a girl named Dorothy and her little dog Toto, about a cyclone and a flying house that reminded her oddly of her dad’s old Ford Anglia. She read about a dog not falling out of a trap door and could relate the loud whistling of the tornado to the loud rain and thunder outside her own bed. Despite herself, she felt sympathy for Dorothy as she managed sleep in a rough time, thinking of her potions exam in the morning. And then, before she could help it, the book was splayed open over her chest and she was fast asleep, studies and Kansas collectively forgotten on her bed around her.