Attention

Chapter Eight

Ginny was relieved when the weekend finally came. And such a nice weekend it was, too, the first really fine one since before Christmas. The sun shone brightly without being too miserable, the flowers had started to bloom, and there was just enough of a breeze to ripple Ginny's hair as she sat at a window in the Gryffindor common room and contemplated her Defence Against the Dark Arts essay, 'In Defence of the Dark Arts', the oddest assignment she'd ever received.

Professor Holloway was unlike any of her previous five Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers. Naturally he taught them various counterspells, and helped fill in the gaps that their previous teachers had left, but sometimes he would pause in the middle of a lesson and ask, 'Now, is this right?' The first time he'd done that, back in September, everyone had assumed he meant to ask whether Colin Creevey's remarkably clear explanation of the various ways to kill vampires had been the correct answer. But after a moment it became apparent that he was in fact asking whether it was morally right.

'Is this right?' he'd repeated, looking around at them with nothing in his eyes to hint at what he wanted to hear back. 'A vampire can't help himself when he's in thrall. He needs blood, and he'll do anything to get it. Is it right for us to go and kill these creatures simply for trying to survive?'

The baffled silence in the classroom seemed to satisfy him, for he went on, 'All right, I'll let you think that one over as you write me a seven-inch summary of the chapter on vampires.'

Holloway didn't always ask them whether the use of a particular spell or curse was 'right', but he did it often enough that Ginny was never surprised when the question came up, and felt quite comfortable taking part in the discussion. They'd had some really terrific debates, too, and Holloway would never take one side only; he was always able to come up with a counter-argument.

And now they had been assigned a three-foot essay on the Dark Arts: 'The Dark Arts are good. Defend.' Holloway hadn't given them any idea of how to research or even approach the topic, and Ginny wondered if the Slytherins had been given the same topic, and if so, whether they would write things like, 'The Dark Arts are good because I can use them to kill Muggles.'

For her own essay, Ginny thought she would first decide why the Dark Arts were called such. Was it because one generally performed the rites at night? Or because Dark wizards so often wore dark clothes? She snorted softly. Even though these were both true, they weren't answers.

So. What made something Dark? What was that quality of wrongness that made one label a kind of magic 'Dark'? Was it wrongness at all, in fact? Darkness had nothing inherently wrong with it. It was simply the absence of light, or a shadow, and to have shadows one needed light. That was a phrase she had to include in her essay. She'd scribbled it earlier in the margins of her chaotic musings, and now she stared at it as though it would write the essay for her.

Darkness is merely the absence of light. It is the presence of shadows; but to have shadows one must first have light.

Ginny considered herself a good writer, and in fact was hoping to make a career of it, maybe in journalism or even as a novelist, but her usual endless stream of words had now deserted her.

She sighed and tossed down her quill. Charlotte and Lisa, who were sitting next to each other at the long end of the table, both looked up.

'Holloway's essay?' asked Lisa.

'Yeah,' said Ginny with a grimace. 'I've no idea how to start it.'

'You could just waffle for three feet,' Charlotte said. 'That's what I did.' She pointed proudly at a thick scroll in the middle of the table. 'Useless essay, if you ask me,' she said with sudden emotion. 'I mean, we all know that the Dark Arts are evil, so why bother having us write so much in favour of them?'

'Can I see it?' Ginny asked.

'Sure.' Charlotte shrugged and passed it over.

It was, as Charlotte had said, three feet of waffle. She never said outright that the Dark Arts were good, but rather went on about various times in history when spells of dubious nature had been used for the public--or at least human--good. It was very well-written, and appeared to be well-researched, with many references and footnotes and even a three-inch bibliography. But she never actually stated the required opinion.

'Did you really do all this research?' Ginny asked, impressed.

Charlotte smirked. 'I got a list of books from Hermione Granger,' she said. 'I don't think any of the events are made up, but the page numbers certainly are. I hope he doesn't check,' she whispered comically.

Ginny laughed and handed the scroll back. 'Have you finished yours?' she then asked Lisa.

'Of course not!' Lisa said with mock indignation. 'It's not due 'til Tuesday. I can't possibly start it before Monday afternoon. Wouldn't be right, would it?'

Ginny laughed and smiled dutifully, then turned back to her parchment. She wondered why their nonchalance about the assignment bothered her so much. Lisa always left essays to the last minute, so that shouldn't be a big deal. Still, it seemed to be such an important question--could the Dark Arts be anything but evil? could they actually be good?--that Ginny felt it deserved more than the usual treatment. Holloway was questioning something all of them had taken to be self-evident.

Part of her thought that Charlotte was right: it was obvious that the Dark Arts were evil. Just look at Lord Voldemort, or Lucius Malfoy, or the Death Eaters. There was nothing good about them in any way.

But if they were so evil, argued another voice, how had it been possible for Charlotte to come up with three feet of examples of times when the Dark Arts had been helpful? Or were those the exceptions, Ginny wondered, and was this one case where the exception didn't prove the rule?

She frowned, stuck the end of her quill in her mouth, and stared absently around the common room. It was a few seconds before she realised she was staring at Harry, and that he was smiling at her. She blinked, took the quill out of her mouth, and smiled back.

He took this as an apparent invitation, for he got up from his chair and ambled over to her.

'Hey,' he said to Ginny as he reached the table.

Lisa nudged Charlotte, and both gave Harry matching coquettish smiles, complete with batting eyelashes. Ginny sent a kick under the table.

Lisa winced, but her smile stayed fixed in place. 'Hi, Harry,' she said breathlessly. 'How are you?'

'Fine, thanks,' he said, glancing at the two girls briefly. Then he looked back at Ginny. 'What are you working on?' he asked.

'Defence Against the Dark Arts,' Ginny said with a grimace. 'Holloway's got us writing three feet in defence of the Dark Arts.'

Harry looked puzzled, so Ginny clarified, 'We have to argue that they're "good". "The Dark Arts are good. Defend." That's the exact topic.'

'Strange,' Harry remarked.

'That's Holloway,' said Ginny with a shrug. 'He's good, though, isn't he?'

'Yeah,' said Harry enthusiastically. 'Yesterday we did Patronuses, the whole class. Most of it is old D.A. members, of course, so they'd worked on it before, but he was really good at explaining it. The memories and all that.'

'Oh? What did he say?' Ginny tried not to remember what had happened the last time she was looking up information on Dementors.

Harry looked slightly flushed. 'Erm, well, he talked about a solid happiness, and gave ideas for what sort of memories to use.'

Ginny eyed Harry speculatively and wondered what could have happened in a Defence lesson that could now be making him flush.

'What are you doing over here, anyway?' she asked suddenly, then regretted how accusing it sounded. It was her turn to wince as Lisa kicked her.

Harry flushed even darker and ran a hand behind his neck. 'Er, well, you were looking at me, and I thought, er, maybe you wanted to talk, or, er, maybe you wanted to, er, maybe go for a walk around the lake?'

The last came out in such a rush that Ginny barely heard it. 'A walk--around the lake?' she repeated stupidly. She was only peripherally aware of two gaping faces beside her. 'No--no, I was just staring into space,' she explained, 'thinking about my essay, and--'

Harry looked down at his feet and pushed his glasses up his nose. His head wobbled about slightly as though he was trying to nod and shake his head both at once.

'Sorry, Harry,' Ginny went on, and put her hand on his arm. He twitched. 'Really, I was just staring around the common room, thinking, and although--although I'd really love to walk around the lake with you'--she smiled at him as genuinely as she could manage--'I've got to get this essay finished.'

'We could--we could discuss it...' Harry trailed off hopefully.

Ginny glanced over Harry's shoulder at her brother. Ron was glowering at them, but then Hermione put a hand on Ron's arm and whispered something in his ear. Ron looked startled, then confused, then looked at Ginny and shrugged slightly. If you must, his eyebrows seemed to say.

Harry looked so forlorn that Ginny relented. 'All right then,' she said. 'I suppose a walk around the lake would be nice.' And if Harry wanted to do more, well... he was a nice guy. Why he had suddenly chosen to fancy her after so many years of being completely oblivious, she didn't know. Still, she'd try. And it might even work out, which would be admittedly nice.

'I'll be back later,' she told Charlotte and Lisa, arranging her papers into a pile. Both shot her jealous looks as she picked up her cloak and followed Harry.