"N-no!"
Ginny spoke with tears brimming in her eyes, her voice trembling.
"Fred, move aside. If you make Ginny cry, are you going to comfort her? Oh, my dear little sister, how about we play with ink fireworks? Spray Ron all over the face, and I guarantee he'll still be indigo when summer holidays start! Huh, why aren't you wearing the pink diamond hair clip Luo Bin gave you?"
Ginny managed a small smile at the thought of an "Afanti" version of Ron, but the mention of the pink diamond hair clip made her nervous again. She stared at Harry, looking so plainly torn over whether to speak that it was impossible to ignore.
At last, Harry remembered who Ginny's expression reminded him of: Dobby, who knew a secret and wanted to reveal it, yet had no choice but to conceal it.
That panicked expression, those hesitant eyes, the way she squirmed as though she were sitting on nails—wasn't she the spitting image of Dobby?
"Ginny, is there something you want to tell us?"
Afraid of frightening her, Harry kept his voice very low and spoke slowly and gently.
Ginny avoided Harry's gaze, bowing her head so low that her forehead almost touched the edge of the table. Ron opened his mouth, about to say something, when she suddenly mumbled, "I—I do have something I want to tell you!"
"What is it?"
Harry clenched his fists, using the pain of his nails digging into his palms to keep his excitement in check.
Ginny pressed her lips together, her eyes darting from side to side. She seemed unsure how to begin.
Two minutes later, Harry braced both palms against the tabletop and leaned close to Ginny's ear, asking in a faint voice only the two of them could hear, "Is it