After I finished "Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone" fully immersed in Harry's world, I immediately began to seek out the second book. It proved a little harder than I imagined. Apparently every fifth grader in my school was on the waiting list at the library and my mother wanted to wait until Christmas to buy it for me. Christmas came early though, and the book was in my hands before any fifth grader had even reached chapter two.
To me, the second adventure was just as magical as the first. It wasn't like some bad movie sequel where the feeling you get the first time just isn't there — everything I loved was back, and the new things J.K. Rowling introduced rang true as well. There was more danger this time, and a threat that Hogwarts would be closed — a possibility that disturbed my eight-year-old mind as much as it did Harry's.
But the biggest change between the first and the second books was the introduction of a new major character — little Ginny Weasley. The tale of how Ginny navigated that year would probably be even more interesting than Harry's, as she was at the center of it all rather than circling the perimeter, trying to solve the mystery.
We rarely hear a thing from Ginny, though, because every time Harry is in the room she's dropping things and turning bright red. Between that and her horrible singing valentine, it's easy to pity Ginny throughout "Chamber of Secrets." I didn't, though.
I hated her.
Considering Ginny would eventually become one of my — if not my absolute — favorite characters, it's odd that we got off to such a horrible start.
I hated her for being shy and weak and I hated her nothing personality. She was related to Fred and George — how could she be so bland? Ron always had funny one-liners, and even Percy had a big personality, even if it was somewhat unpleasant. How could this girl have come from the Weasleys?
Rowling's other main female character, Hermione, was quite the opposite. She was bossy and obnoxious, always 10 steps ahead of the boys in every area. She was first in their class, the brightest of her age, but still not above taking chances with her two best friends. Hermione was a good example for girls. I wanted to be Hermione.
But I was Ginny.
It's possible that I hated Ginny so much because she hit a little too close to home. I was also painfully shy and awkward around my peers. I, too, often developed over-the-top crushes on boys who would never return them (do boys even return crushes at eight?). I realized — as Ginny told Tom Riddle she feels overshadowed by her brothers and is terrified of the possibility she'll never live up to them — that I also had a brother problem.
I was facing the probability that I would never live up to my brother, who was two years younger, but twice as smart. Only in first grade, he was playing chess by himself while the other kids ate paste. His teachers encouraged my parents to let him skip a grade. If he was already surpassing me in first grade when I was supposed to have a huge two-year head start, how were the rest of our lives going to go?
So much as I fancied myself Hermione with my frizzy hair and messed up front teeth, the introduction of Ginny shot a lot of holes in that theory and pointed out my flaws quite glaringly. Harry Potter was supposed to be my escape. Harry was supposed to take me away from my problems, not shove them in front of me.
I didn't process all these feelings so neatly at eight. I just established in my mind that I hated Ginny and that was that. She had no self-esteem and neither did I — she probably would have hated me too if given the chance.
Twelve years later, I've gathered just enough maturity to see that Ginny's journey through the books was probably one of the most helpful aspects for me. We grew up together, Ginny and I. In a few years, she backed away from her family enough to make friends and go through a couple boyfriends. She developed the Fred-and-George sense of humor I had always hoped she had in her.
Ginny is independent and strong, and she might not have arrived at that point if Rowling hadn't allowed her the grace of being a terrified 11-year-old. She emerged, sometime around the fourth book, a confident and mischievous young woman, but was all the more relatable because of where she came from.
I still get awkward at times, although much less often now. It happens the most around boys, who still sometimes don't return my crushes. My brother is most definitely still smarter than me. Luckily, somewhere in high school, I emerged sarcastic and smart (enough) in my own right. I don't have Ginny to thank for it. But I do thank Rowling for gently letting me know that everyone is allowed a little bit of a grace period.
