Chapter 168: 168: The Daily Life of Ginny

Words : 1409 Updated : Oct 6th, 2025

"Stretch out your dominant hand, Miss Weasley." "Oh... okay..." Inside the dusty second-hand shop in Diagon Alley, a small red-haired girl hesitantly extended her hand as the shopkeeper, Mr. Norsley, measured it with a worn-out tape measure that seemed to move of its own accord. "Mr. Norsley? Sir?" Standing beside her was Ginny's mother, Molly Weasley, a short, plump woman with a warm but worried expression. She cleared her throat, trying to sound as persuasive as possible. "Perhaps you could help us find a wand that is both... practical and affordable. I must admit, we don't have many Galleons to spare." "Rest assured, Mrs. Weasley, our second-hand wands are the best." The shopkeeper's voice was gruff but full of pride. He waved his hand dismissively as he turned toward the chaotic stacks of wands piled behind the counter, beginning his search for the most suitable match. "Oh no, I'm sure they are... it's just that..." Molly hurried after him, trying to steer him away from the more expensive selections. Ginny sighed. This was how things always were. Hand-me-down robes. Second-hand books. Even her quills had belonged to Charlie before her. What choice did she have? She had always been the well-behaved, obedient daughter, never expecting much. But now, as she stood on the verge of her first year at Hogwarts, something inside her longed to break free from the cycle. She wanted to be more than just the youngest Weasley, more than just another poor girl with worn-out clothes and patched-up robes. She wanted to be someone. Ginny had always wondered why Harry Potter—who had spent the summer at the Burrow—spoke so fondly of their home. The way he marveled at everything in the Burrow, from the self-knitting needles to the ghoul in the attic, baffled her. To Ginny, it was a constant reminder of what she lacked—new things, nice things. She let out another sigh, running a finger along the tattered sleeve of her robe. That's when she noticed a familiar figure passing by the window. Tall. Sharp. Almost impossibly graceful. She pressed her nose against the glass, eyes widening. Nolan. He was here. "What's he doing?" she muttered, watching his silhouette disappear into the crowd. "Where is he going? What's he buying?" "Perhaps you know Mr. Von Draugr?" Mr. Norsley's voice interrupted her thoughts. Ginny turned back quickly, blushing slightly. The shopkeeper had returned, holding an old walnut wand in his hands. "You can try this one—eight inches, walnut, with a core of swamp fairy wing. It's quite flexible and excellent for Transfiguration." Ginny hesitated before wrapping her fingers around the wand. She gave it a small wave, but nothing happened. Mr. Norsley frowned and took it back. "No, no, that's not quite right..." He shuffled back into the depths of the shop, rummaging through the cluttered shelves once more. In the meantime, Ginny couldn't resist asking, "You know Nolan too, Mr. Norsley?" "Of course." The shopkeeper's tone was almost reverent as he retrieved another wand. "These days, there aren't many in the wizarding world who don't know the name Von Draugr, Miss Weasley." "Is he... really that famous?" "If you read The Daily Prophet more often, you'd have seen his name. He and Professor McGonagall co-developed a new branch of Transfiguration that even the old Ministry officials had to acknowledge. The magical gloves he designed? Far superior to anything even the best enchanters could make. I know more than a few old wizards hoping to get into his good graces." Mr. Norsley held up a second wand. "Try this one—eleven inches, willow, with a dragon heartstring core. Its previous owner was a rather eccentric alchemist who accidentally blew himself up." Ginny took it gingerly, feeling a strange warmth spread through her fingers the moment she touched it. A gentle spark flickered at the tip, sending a soft breeze through the shop. "Ah, now that's a match," Mr. Norsley said with satisfaction. "You'll make a fine witch, Miss Weasley." Ginny stared at the wand in her hand. It wasn't new. It wasn't perfect. But... it was hers. And for three Galleons, she could afford it. As her mother paid, Ginny hesitated for a moment before glancing back at the shopkeeper. "Could you... tell me more about him?" she asked quietly. Mr. Norsley chuckled. "I'm afraid I don't know much beyond what's in the papers. But if you want to learn more, I imagine any student at Hogwarts could answer your questions." He gave her a knowing look. "After all, there's a reason they call Von Draugr the 'Little Prince of Slytherin.'" Ginny blinked. "Ginny, dear, let's go," Molly called, already stepping out of the shop. "...Coming, Mum," Ginny replied, tucking the wand safely into her pocket. As she stepped out onto the cobbled streets, joining her brothers once more, she found herself lost in thought. Her fingers traced absentmindedly over the wood of her new wand. Little Prince of Slytherin... She had a feeling that this wouldn't be the last time she heard that name. Lately, something was off between the twins. Ginny had noticed the subtle tension—the way Fred and George would barely acknowledge each other, how their usual seamless banter had become strained. She suspected they'd had a falling-out, though she doubted it was anything serious. After all, when had Fred and George ever truly stayed mad at each other? Ginny couldn't imagine what it was like to have a twin. But she guessed it must be wonderful—someone who understood you better than anyone else, someone who made sure you never had to be alone. Like Fred and George. "Fred," she tugged at her brother's sleeve, glancing up at him. "Can I ask you something?" "Of course, little Ginny." Fred's brows wiggled like mischievous caterpillars. "But I must correct you—I'm George. How could my own sister confuse me with that scoundrel?" "Oh, for Merlin's sake! Even Mum can't tell you apart!" Ginny huffed. "You're wearing the jumper with the F on it, obviously you're Fred!" "Ah, caught me." Fred grinned before reaching over and ruffling her hair into a tangled mess. "Ugh! Stop doing that!" Ginny swatted his hand away, glaring. "I don't understand how that Slytherin Prince even tolerates hanging around you two." Fred's expression shifted, his grin stretching wider as his brows arched knowingly. "You're interested in Nolan?" Ginny's face burned instantly. "What?! No!" "Oh, of course, of course." Fred smirked. "Should've known. No girl ever escapes his clutches. But you, my dear Ginny, might have a problem." "What do you mean?" "See for yourself." Fred discreetly gestured toward Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour across the street. Ginny followed his gaze and saw her. A strikingly beautiful girl with silver hair, standing at the counter with another girl, carefully selecting her ice cream. "Who is she?" Ginny asked, frowning. There was something distant, almost untouchable about the girl—her expression sharp, her demeanor cool. "That," Fred whispered conspiratorially, "is Eve Stock. The best Chaser Hogwarts has seen in a century. Last year, she single-handedly crushed the other three house teams. We call her the Silver Lightning." Ginny's eyes widened. "She was also last year's top student," Fred continued. "Got first place in every subject, and she was even the runner-up in the Wizarding Dueling Championship." "...Whoa." "But," Fred added, "what might interest you more is this—she's Nolan Von Draugr's girlfriend." Ginny snapped her head back toward the girl, her stomach twisting oddly. As they spoke, Eve and her companion—Alicia Spinnet—stepped out of the shop, Eve holding a towering three-scoop ice cream. Fred waved casually. "Oi! Eve, Alicia! Where's Nolan?" Eve glanced over, her silver eyes cool and unreadable. "He's at The Daily Prophet." Alicia, far friendlier, chimed in, "The Ministry's asked him to disclose some of his inventions. They want a public statement." Ginny barely heard the words. She was too focused on Eve Stock—the way she carried herself, the effortless confidence, the undeniable presence she exuded. Fred didn't linger on the conversation, knowing well enough that Eve Stock was not the chatty type. She was infamous for her icy demeanor—except, of course, when she was with Nolan. That was when she smiled.

Chapter 168: 168: The Daily Life of Ginny

Comments (0)