Ginny heard her name called out in the list of first years assigned to Nazariy Natova's army. She wasn't upset that she hadn't been selected to be a general; in fact she had chosen not to apply this year, both because she felt a need to better settle into Hogwarts before assuming more responsibilities, and because she had hopes of building a reputation and being selected on a more meritorious basis next year. Still, she wondered if she would have been selected, had she applied. Ginny didn't know either of the other first year generals.

Harry, of course, was not selected either; he had been a general in his first year and therefore could not be one again until his third year. Rather more distressing was the fact that Ron was a second year general, and Ginny just knew she wouldn't hear the end of it from him. The other two second year generals were Blaise Zabini and Neville Longbottom, one a Slytherin Ginny was close to, and the other a known associate of Harry Potter. Here came Ron now, as full of himself as Ginny had ever seen him (though it was still nothing compared to Percy at literally any second of his life).

"Hey, Ginny!" said Ron. "Sorry you didn't get picked. But better luck next year, right?"

"Actually, I didn't apply this year," said Ginny.

"Sure," said Ron.

"But congratulationss," said Ginny.

"What was that?" said Ron. "Speak up."

"Congratulationss," said Ginny.

"Oh," said Ron. "Thanks." Hmm. So mum was at least wrong about Ron; she supposed that her mother had no real way to know which of her sons were Parselmouths, seeing as she wasn't one herself and it wasn't as if they were all tested for such a thing. Still, Ron didn't seem to be a full Parselmouth; he hadn't understood Ginny until she spoke very slowly. It was as if she was speaking in English to a very slow person. Ginny wondered when, if ever, would be an appropriate time to tell Ron about this gift they shared (but that she had gotten the better end of).

"Ginny!" said Professor Lockhart, who had been watching the proceedings and swooped in to comment. "I'm surprised you didn't apply for the position of general."

"Yeah, I just didn't think it was for me this year," said Ginny. "But how did you know?"

"Because you would have been chosen," said Professor Lockhart. He gave her a mysterious look, and then left. Draco was approaching Ginny very quickly, and she felt very popular.

"Ginny, hi," said Draco. "I was wondering if you'd be up for lunch tomorrow. I have a private room in the Slytherin dormitories." He looked very embarrassed, as if that wasn't how he intended his words to come out at all.

"Um, sure," said Ginny.

"That's great," said Draco, and he hurried away. What on Earth had just happened? Did Draco Malfoy just ask her out on a date? And had she just accepted? Well, given the situation, her choice was probably the rational one. She might never get a chance with Harry Potter, and if Draco was just going to walk into her like this... Well, he was wealthy, and attractive, and kind, and within her age range... and friends with Harry Potter... kind of... He was quite a catch, and just imagining the look on her mother's face was worth the price of admission.

"Ginny!" said Luna, approaching and making Ginny feel marginally less popular. "I'm so glad we're in the same army." Ginny hadn't even noticed. "I'm not sure if I would have been able to cast attack spells at you."

"Thanks," said Ginny, and smiled. "I'm looking for some advice as a friend."

"Oh, I'm always willing to give friendly advice!" said Luna.

"What would you do if Draco Malfoy asked you out on a date?" said Ginny.

"Oh, first Harry Potter and now this?" said Luna. "You're crazy. What's so great about Draco Malfoy?"

"Wealthy, attractive, kind, within my age range, and friends with Harry Potter, kind of," said Ginny. "Also from my House, and emotionally needy, and I'm just thinking of more and more pros the longer I think."

"But he's a boy," said Luna.

"I guess you're not old enough to understand," said Ginny.

"How's the religious soul-searching going?" asked Luna.

"Thank you for reminding me," said Ginny. "I've been distracted." The truth was that she had deliberately avoided thinking about it, to simplify her life.

"Let me know how it goes," said Luna. "The best case scenario is you come out of it as a more sane and functional human being, but I'd be fascinated if you turned out as something interesting like a Latter-Day Satanist or a Triple Jew. Toodles." And with that, Luna skipped off.

Ginny was sitting on a stone bench within the Slytherin Common Room, looking at the entrance, when Dobby appeared before her.

"Master Malfoy will be with you very shortly," said Dobby.

"Thank you," said Ginny, but Dobby had already vanished again. Ginny decided to let her mind wander in the last few moments before her date. This recent incident with Luna and, indirectly, Harry, was far from the first time Ginny's faith had been challenged. Several years ago, while exploring the area around Ottery St. Catchpole, Ginny had met Pansy Parkinson, who had informed her that Weasleys were stupid because they believed that the world was only six thousand years old. Ginny had informed her that the world really was only six thousand years old, and you could determine this from the ages and lineages of the figures in Genesis, right back to the week-long creation of the universe by God.

But when Ginny got home, and began to do research so that she would have a more detailed retort the next time she encountered Pansy, she discovered that her position was well and truly discredited. The Well of Time in the Department of Mysteries was at least a million years deep, and the Unspeakables had barely scratched its surface with no end in sight. Muggles had found the same result from many different sources of evidence, and had even put an approximate objective date on the creation of the universe – fourteen billion years ago, not six thousand. Ginny asked around her family and discovered that even most of them were not Biblical literalists, and had made way for progress and reality.

So Ginny reminded herself that the Bible was not the word of God, but a set of historical documents written independently by different people in different places and different times about God, and that there was no reason to believe an old Jewish creation myth as opposed to objective truth, particularly when it had never been fundamental to her belief in the first place. The evidence could not have been planted as a test of faith; an omnibenevolent God would not resemble an abusive husband asking his wife if she believed him or her own lying eyes. The only way the world could look how it did with a literally true Genesis was if the evidence had been faked by a vast Satanic conspiracy to promote atheism, and believing that was conspiracy theory, the path to the nuttery of survivalist bunkerers or the Quibbler. So Ginny studied evolution, the mechanism the Muggles had determined really brought life on Earth about, and when she came to a true understanding of how it functioned, she realized that it was as beautiful and elegant as the night sky, and she became certain that it was the tool God had used to shape the multitudes of forms of life. You cannot have true faith in something you know to be false – which brought Ginny to her real dilemma.

The world around Ginny looked exactly like a godless world would, so how could she go on holding her theist position? But what did that mean? In what way, exactly, did the world resemble a godless one? All of the things Ginny took as signs of God were there, in the world – but that's just it, they were things Ginny took as signs, and the godless explanation was simpler. Wizards existed, just as Ginny would expect in a world where some were descendants of Jesus Christ – but this could just as easily be seen as a retroactive explanation for where Atlantis came from; it was possible that Christ was a descendant of Atlantis, as all wizards were, and this was reinterpreted later by Wizard Christians with the opposite causality. The Bible existed, as Ginny expected it would in a world where God had intervened in ancient events – but it could just as easily and, in fact, more easily be a collection of myths and lies, none any more true than the opening of Genesis. Ginny was aware of the concept of memeplexes, and the process through which cults developed into religions – she had used it to dismiss many competing religions. She had simply decided that it didn't apply to hers, that hers was true and truly originated from a source meaningful to the inner workings of the universe. But what if that wasn't true? Was there any particular reason to believe that it was? God didn't regularly come down and talk to people and make His existence as clear as that of the sun or the moon. Any sane theist knew that prayer was just a fancy mode of talking to yourself. You weren't interacting with God; you were interacting with your mind's simulation of God. God's existence was debatable, and that itself was an indescribably large blow to the theist position, because it fit precisely with the atheist interpretation of religion and required excuses from the theist position.

And yet, in spite of these simple realizations, Ginny was not particularly less theist than she had been before. She still expected to meet God in Heaven upon her death. She still expected that, if she were to look back at distantly passed times, the history would match up with the basic narrative she had acquired from the Bible. And she still expected that if she pulled out of reality and saw everything in a truly objective way, then above it all, in some higher plane, there would be God, watching everything just like her, and smiling, because it was all going according to His plan. Her expectations for tests' results matched up with a narrative diametrically opposed to the one she now identified as rational, so what did that mean? Was Ginny rationally broken, such that her mind could never climb to the heights Harry's could? All of the tests she expected theist results on were tests she could not perform; did that mean that she only believed in her belief in God? Ginny would have liked to think she knew what she believed in, but at the moment, she honestly had no idea what she believed. What a mess.

"Ginny?" said Draco, standing just in front of her. She had been so distracted she hadn't even seen him approach. She stood up.

"Oh! Draco!" said Ginny. "Hello. You were going to show me to your room? Um – to – your – private dormitory?"

"Yes," said Draco. "It's right down this hall; follow me."

"I wish I could afford a private dormitory," said Ginny, walking.

"It was difficult even for us," said Draco. "It was the result of a sizable donation that my father deliberated for quite some time before making. I wouldn't be surprised if you were able to afford it someday, for your children, but that kind of money takes some doing." He stopped at the wooden door that had the word "MALFOY" in golden lettering, and knocked on it in a pattern; it opened itself.

"Wow," said Ginny, upon seeing the interior, and there wasn't much else to say. The bed was nicer than Ginny's bed at home or at school. The table was visibly more expensive than Ginny's house. The room as a whole was the single most intense pocket of luxury Ginny had seen in her eleven years of life. She wanted it.

"So," said Draco, sitting down and gesturing for Ginny's chair to move for her. "How have your first few weeks at Hogwarts been?"

"Enlightening," said Ginny. "Best month of my life so far."

"Are you happy here in Slytherin?" said Draco. Dobby had appeared, seemingly from nowhere, and was setting the table for a casual meal.

"I would have been happy anywhere that wasn't Gryffindor," said Ginny. "Although I'll admit Hufflepuff would have disappointed me. But yes, I think I was Sorted correctly."

"Anywhere but Gryffindor," said Draco. "So I take it you're not a big fan of your older brothers?"

"You have no idea," said Ginny. "You think they're annoying from a distance, try growing up in a tiny house with them."

"I can't even imagine," said Draco. A wave of his hand, and each glass on the table filled with lemonade, seemingly from nowhere.

"What's your second year been like?" said Ginny.

"Lonely," said Draco. Ginny frowned.

"I'm sorry," said Ginny. Angsty. -5 points? +5 points? Gosh, I don't know.

"I mean, ever since, you know, I've felt like I have a lot less friends here," said Draco. "The other Slytherins who went through the same thing, I feel like they think I'm to blame somehow, and the people who aren't, they avoid me like I'm going to snap at them and blame them, or maybe just like they couldn't possibly understand what I've gone through, which maybe they can't, but..."

"You must feel so betrayed," said Ginny. "By the world and by You-Know-Who."

"I'm so sorry," said Draco. "We should talk about something more pleasant."

"Hmm..." said Ginny. "Oh! Did you know that if you talk to Luna Lovegood for too long, you're liable to wind up in a Quibbler?" She fumbled around in her bag and pulled out a magazine, with her face on it: "GINEVRA WEASLEY SECRETLY BETROTHED TO LUNA LOVEGOOD" - and, in smaller print: "(NOT DRACO MALFOY, SOURCES SAY)".

"I made the mistake of meeting her about a year ago," said Draco. "The next week I discovered that I was pregnant with Harry Potter's baby." Ginny tried to restrain her laughter to an appropriate level.

"Luna's a nice girl," said Ginny. "Just... odd." Come to think of it, Draco looked rather like a male version of her; but then many of the pureblood families looked similar.

"That reminds me," said Draco. "Potter was particularly interested to meet her last year. You should introduce them."

"I'm afraid they've gotten off on the wrong foot," said Ginny.

"Oh, they've already met?" said Draco. "I didn't hear; what happened?"

"Well, not exactly met," said Ginny. "It's complicated."

"I'd love to hear the story," said Draco. At that point, food arrived, and it defied description.

"Well," said Draco, who had just finished his plate. "Do you want my opinion?"

"Of course," said Ginny, and she smiled.

"She could have expressed it in a more sensitive way," said Draco, "but I agree with her on Potter. I knew Potter and was quite close to him for some time, and his qualities that ultimately made me avoid him were the same qualities that I think make him a likely future Dark Lord. He's brilliant, very charismatic, intense about his ideology, is rapidly learning how people work and how to control them - very Slytherin, actually, you know he was almost sorted here and it was probably some trickery from Dumbledore that changed it at the last minute - and he's just drawn to the Dark Lord archetype by nature, really. That 'game' you said he played with everyone didn't sound very much like a game to me; it sounded more like a different self that he snapped out of, or he decided he was moving too quickly or too obviously. He became the president of his own fanclub and commandeered it for his own purposes, and you just accepted it because you bowed to the qualities of his you admired – his intellect, and so on. None of it's very subtle, and I'm surprised Luna Lovegood of all people is the one to pick up on it."

"That sounds like quite a leap," said Ginny. "Are you sure there isn't some bad blood between you and Harry that's causing you to interpret the situation incorrectly?"

"I'm not aware of any if there is," said Draco. "Potter and I drifted apart quite amicably. I'd like to give you a further warning, though." Ginny frowned, because she thought she was beginning to understand Draco's concerns, though she didn't want to.

"What?" said Ginny.

"I don't believe in God," said Draco, "as I'm sure you know most wizards don't. But Potter is an atheist, and not an atheist like myself, or most of the professors here, or even the Lovegoods. He's a capital-A Atheist, and he believes in Atheism just as strongly as you believe in God. Perhaps even moreso."

"Perhaps even moreso," repeated Ginny, and it was increasingly striking her that the only way Harry could believe something even more strongly than she believed in God would be if he knew it because it was a fact.

"There will come a time when Potter tries to convert you, to make you a little more like him," said Draco. "Because really, that's what he wants in life. To make the entire rest of the world a little more like him. He'll ask you to sacrifice a belief central to your worldview that differs from his own. He will try to trick you into making that sacrifice. Don't let him. Those beliefs are your source of power."

"That which can be destroyed by the truth should be," quoted Ginny. "That's the first Method of Rationality."

"There's an ancient art that I've studied called rhetoric," said Draco. "It was invented by the Dark wizard Gorgias, and it's a very Slytherin school of cunning. Rhetoric is the targeted application of what appears to be pure reason to convince someone of something – anything, whether it actually is true or not. Potter is by far the best rhetorician I've ever encountered; before I met him I was inclined to dismiss the entire practice as Muggle mind games."

"That's troubling," said Ginny. Someone was lying to her here, to use her – but was it Harry, or Draco?

"Indeed," said Draco.

"What do you think of religion," said Ginny, "really?"

"There might be some truth there," said Draco. "I've never found it, but I've never really looked; my father never brought the subject up for me, as is the norm. Of course some religions must be lies, though I don't know which ones. The end goal of any cult of personality is to become a religion, and some succeed. The position of a capital-A-Atheist like Harry is that all religions start that way, but often they prove themselves hypocrites when they found their own cults like the Less Sane Squad. I'm sorry, the More Sane-"

"I still think you're jumping to conclusions, there," said Ginny. "I don't agree with Harry about everything, but I think the Squad is a good idea. Its goals are noble."

"Its stated goals, perhaps," said Draco. Ginny's mind was blown by this dichotomy she had not considered. She stopped to consider where to take the conversation.

"Would you be interested in exploring religion with me?" said Ginny. "Maybe it'd fill that void in your life you've been describing."

"I think I would," said Draco.

"We can start whenever you have free time," said Ginny. "Just Bible readings, with me explaining everything – I'd be your annotations."

"That sounds lovely," said Draco, "and – oh! – it reminds me." Draco reached into unknown space and summoned an ornate box. "This is a gift from me to you."

"Oh – Draco!" said Ginny. "I don't know what to say!" You don't give away powerful Dark artifacts on the first date!

"In this box is a Learning Journal," said Draco. "It has a mind of its own, and when you own it, it's your best friend. It doesn't look like it, but you could think of it as a sort of a pet. But it's very bright – it might remind you of Harry Potter, in that regard. It provides great advice – just in the past few months it's given me tips that have made the world around me a measurably better place. The box was a gift to me from my father; he said to open it when all seemed lost, and it would help me. I did, and it has."

"Draco," said Ginny, "I can't possibly take this from you. It's yours."

"It's been a lifesaver for me for months, but I don't need it anymore," said Draco. "I think it's time for it to touch someone else's life, and I think that person is you."

"Draco," said Ginny, but he slid the box into her hands, and she took it from him.

"Technically, it's against school rules," said Draco. "So you can't go around telling people about it. But from one Slytherin to another, I trust you."

"Thank you," said Ginny. "I should take this back to my room, but it's been wonderful talking to you." She squeezed his hand.

"And you as well," said Draco. "We can meet again some time next Sunday?"

"Certainly!" said Ginny. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye!" said Draco. Had Luna Lovegood seen the box Draco had given Ginny, she might have said that it looked exactly like a box her mother had once owned.