Harry watched Ginny as the last of the DA members filed out of the room.

She stood near the back, her posture rigid, arms crossed lightly, lips pressed into a line that gave nothing away. The old warmth of her smile was absent. Instead, there was a stillness to her that made him instinctively take a step back.

“So,” he said, trying to keep his voice casual but failing, “what do you think of the DA so far? Everyone… do you think they’ll be ready if — you know — the Dark Lord reappears?”

Ginny’s gaze flicked toward him, sharp and unyielding. “It’s not enough,” she said, her tone cutting, almost clinical. No hesitation. No softness. Just the bare truth.

Harry blinked. “Not enough? We’re teaching them Disarming, Stunning, Protego… everything we can.” He tried to infuse conviction into his words, but she didn’t waver.

“Yes,” she replied, “but when you face a Death Eater, Harry, it isn’t enough. If you’re not willing to do what’s necessary, you’ll fail. Expelliarmus and simple counters only take you so far. You need to be willing to embrace the full spectrum of magic… the spells that aren’t taught in the classrooms.”

Harry ran a hand over his face, trying to shake the unease that had settled in his chest. He had always thought of Ginny as brave, yes, but this… this was different. There was a precision to her words, a quiet certainty that unnerved him more than any Death Eater could.

“You really mean that, don’t you?” he asked carefully. “About being willing to… go further?”

Ginny’s lips twitched, almost imperceptibly. “I do. Not everything that can be done should be done all the time. But you must be willing to do it if the moment demands it. Otherwise, you get killed.” She paused, eyes narrowing slightly. “I’ve learned that. The hard way.”

Harry felt a flicker of admiration — and something else he didn’t expect: a pang of something like awe. She was… cold, yes, but controlled. And she knew herself. He realized he had never seen her like this, never fully seen the edge of her confidence and capability.

“And your duel with Seamus,” he said, voice lower now. “Petrificus Totalus… you could have done more, right? Something darker, faster, more painful?”

She met his gaze steadily, almost challenging him. “Yes,” she admitted, “I could have. But that wasn’t necessary. He needed to learn, not to suffer. My power is not measured by how much I hurt others, Harry. But when it counts, I will not hesitate. Do you understand?”

He nodded slowly, though inside he was reeling. He understood. Too well, maybe. The careful restraint, the strategic calculation — it fascinated him, and at the same time, made him feel an edge of… something he wasn’t ready to name. Fear? Respect? A mix of both.

“You… you’re dangerous,” he said quietly, more to himself than to her. “And… necessary.”

Ginny’s expression softened almost imperceptibly, a shadow of a smile touching her lips before it disappeared. “I suppose that’s the Slytherin way,” she said, and there was a hint of challenge in her tone, as if daring him to disagree.

Harry shook his head, heart a little heavier, a little faster. He had expected to train, to teach, maybe to scold or encourage. But he hadn’t expected to be reminded — in the coldest, most precise way — that there was someone at Hogwarts who could see the world clearly, and wield power without losing herself.

And he found himself… admiring it. More than he wanted to admit.