Illegal Acquisitions
Ginny was sitting on her bed and staring at her half-packed trunk and the rest of her scattered belongings. She had been trying to stifle the feeling all day, because it must make her messed up in some way, or dirty, but she couldn’t help it. Tomorrow morning she was going back to Hogwarts and she was relieved. No more putting up with stupid Phlegm who was now permanently attached to Bill, no more looking at her oldest brother’s scarred face, no more wondering and worrying and reading about death without being able to do anything.
She had achieved one important thing this Christmas, though, and it was mainly due to her luck; they were still staying at Grimmauld place. The Black Family Library was every bit as nasty as the rest of the house, which meant it had shelves and shelves full of dark, evil books. She had managed to smuggle a few that alluded to immortality, the philosopher’s stone, and Salazar Slytherin, all these things, she was sure, must hold some connection to Ron, Harry and Hermione’s crazy mission.
She was brought out of her thoughts by a gentle rap at the door. “Come in!” she called, hurriedly checking that all the books were safely stowed out of sight.
Remus walked in, looking drawn and tired and a little worried and carrying a piece of parchment in his right hand. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Nothing,” he said taking a seat on the ugly old chair slowly, “Another letter has arrived for you, from your friend.”
Ginny narrowed her eyes at him. Could he have read it? And what was the git on about sending her a letter the night before she got back to school, couldn’t he wait. Stupid Death Eaters, she thought to herself, she was goin- well she was probably going to kill him anyway when she found out who he was.
“Did you read it?”
“Actually, this time your friend seems to have been in a bit of a hurry and forgot to cast that handy charm, so yes, I was able to open and read it, which is my job. That really didn’t help much, though, it’s rather short.”
Ginny walked closer and took the proffered letter. The writing was unmistakable, even though she’d burnt all the other letters she got from her mysterious correspondent…or whatever the hell he was, she had memorized them by heart.
Shreiking Shack, now.
Well, that wasn’t much but it was enough to tell her former professor that she was doing something a little dodgy. Damn git, how did he expect her to get to the Shreiking Shack at this time, and more to the point, where did he come off making such demands as if she trusted him enough to throw herself into a potential trap?
You’re not important enough for anyone to waste this much time roping you into a trap, she told herself. Besides, if it did turn out to be a trap it would serve everyone right for trying to “protect” her. She wasn’t that upset, though, given the circumstances, because the mysterious correspondent had finally decided to come out from behind the letters and she’d get to know who he was at last and ease that nagging at the back of her mind that told her it could be Snape…or worse.
It was clear that Professor Lupin wasn’t going to start talking anytime soon, but he wasn’t leaving either. “Well,” she sad impatiently, “Let’s get this lecture over with.”
“I think you’re forgetting I never liked lectures much, Ginny,” he said standing up and striding over to the bed and sitting down beside her, “None of the obvious conclusions to be drawn from this situation are pretty, but I have learnt that things are not always what they seem.”
His hand touched the spot on her shoulder, right above the mark and she almost felt it singe through the cloth. Ginny clenched her teeth and looked purposefully away. “You remind me of him,” he continued, “Sirius. This was his room, you know, he used to tell us the most horrible stories about this house. The thing he hated most was being locked up, even before Azkaban, it drove him mad.”
Something in his voice made Ginny turn to look at him and he fixed her gaze in his, “Sirius had the same pride, the same determined gleam in his eye that dared anyone to cross him, dared anyone to try and stop him from doing what he was about. They did it, though, they locked him up, and it almost drove him mad, I mean really messed with his head. If he hadn’t died I think a few more months of being locked up and he would have gone permanently round the bend.”
“They shouldn’t have locked him up, then.”
“No,” he sighed, “No, they shouldn’t, but I don’t think anyone saw another choice. Maybe I’m not in my right mind, but I do see a choice here, I can go downstairs and talk to someone and they would most certainly lock you up in one way or another, or I can decide to pretend that I never saw or heard or read anything and let you live.”
Ginny’s back stiffened as she waited for the final verdict. She could imagine Molly’s shrieks and their faces when they saw… No one else knew. Dumbledore was dead and if Snape came near anyone from the order they would kill him before he had a chance to open his mouth, but it was over now. There was no way Professor Lupin would just let her be.
“You have five minutes to send me back a signal saying you’re alright and half an hour to get back to this room safely. If you are even a second late I will alert your parents and McGonagall and come after you, no matter what.”
“Wh-”
“Portus!” Ginny recognized the spell, it was the one used to create a portkey.
“Th-thank you,” she stammered, unable to believe what was going on, “I…”
“Just send your Patronus with a message and we will discuss this later, just make sure it’s worth it.”
Ginny nodded mutely before reaching her had out to the old sock, which had now become a Portkey.
…
Blaise looked around the place, relieved to find that, as he had expected, it wasn’t really haunted, or being used as a Death Eater or Werewolf hide-out or any of the hundreds of crazy possibilities. The Shrieking Shack was merely an old, battered house with a dark reputation. He scanned the room nervously, making sure that his mother and Snape, who had insisted on being “nearby in case his foolish plan did not work”, were not lurking around the room, at least not obviously enough that he could sense them in his tired state.
The potions Snape had given him before they moved him here had given him a little bit of energy, but it really only kept him awake and able to talk and he had been warned that the effects would fade quite quickly. If the Weasley girl had any sort of head on her shoulders she would not show up. It was dangerous and stupid. He just hoped he was a good enough observer that he hadn’t been wrong about her character.
She walked in, clearly put out after a bit of searching in the many empty rooms, and let out a gasp of surprise. She stepped closer to the bed and he realized that she was eyeing his wounds and the blood rather than his face, but there was still a hint of anger and suspicion there.
“Well?” he asked finally, “Spit it out, Weasley.”
She took her time replying, as if on purpose to annoy him, and then held up her wand, sending out an oddly shaped puff of smoke that Blaise couldn’t see too clearly. The thing flew out the window and then she spoke, “It could have been worse,” she said, “You could have been Snape. It could have been much worse.”
He sniffed and held her gaze, although it made his eyes water and his head hurt to concentrate on one thing for so long. “What do you expect me to do, Zabini? In case you hadn’t noticed the whole Healing thing was your idea and it was only to convince mum to let me go back to Hogwarts. There’s no way I can heal all this before tomorrow morning, even if I wasn’t just an unwilling aide to Pomfrey.”
If he had been mentally able to concentrate long enough to think of something for himself he wouldn’t have revealed himself to her in the first place. Blaise glared at her and responded, “I thought you were smart, Weasley.”
She nodded resolutely, as if accepting some sort of challenge. “We need to get you to the Room of Requirement first, I’ll take care of this, but you’re going to have some serious explaining to do afterwards.”
…
Ginny managed to get Blaise to the room of Requirement in about forty long minutes of stumbling through the tunnels and accidentally banging his head on the walls and roof. Once he as safely hidden there she decided not to waste any more time going back through the tunnels and risk getting caught, she was already late as it was and Lupin was still a forty or so year old former professor, not to be fully trusted to keep covering for her if he thought she was in danger. She stuffed her hand hurriedly into her pocket and immediately felt the horrible sensation of being pulled through space.
She fell face forward onto the floor in her room and looked up to find a pale-faced and very angry looking Lupin. “Ummm…”
“Don’t explain now!” he hissed, “I am late for an Order meeting. You just finish packing so you can get to school in time for classes tomorrow.”
He rushed out of the room, but Ginny could have sworn she heard him saying it was all Molly’s fault with her over-protectiveness. Ginny smiled, it was true, if mum hadn’t been so worried Ginny would have been in school by this afternoon and this wouldn’t have been any of Remus Lupin’s business in the first place.
Instead of packing her bags she waited a few minutes until she was sure he must be safely stowed inside the meeting and snuck down the stairs to meet Mundungus Fletcher. That man was always late for meetings because he had some illegal deal to take care of…well he’d just have to be a little later for this one.
She waited for what felt like ages in the gloomy hall until he finally arrived, his coat stuffed with illegal acquisitions. “How fast can you get me a time-turner?” she hissed without useless preamble.
“Oh,” Dung eyed her, slightly taken aback. She was sure he was afraid of her mother, like everyone else around here, “Well…”
“How fast?” Ginny pulled her best imitation of her mother and kept a steady gaze on his watery eyes.
“Remember, I’m Fred and George’s little sister…” this would have two effects: first of all, there was the fear that the twins would do something to him if she asked them; and then there was the promise of payment. Fred and George were filthy rich and everyone knew it by now.
“Twenty Galleons.”
“Fine,” she said, wondering how the hell she was going to come up with that sort of money, “Just get it as fast as you can.”
She waited until the door was securely shut behind him before sneaking back upstairs and to a room she knew was filled with various potions ingredients. The Black family did have its uses after all and she couldn’t wait until she got to Hogwarts to do this.
Ginny tried to remember how much money she had while she was rummaging through the shelves. At most they would be no more than two galleons. Dung must be crazy, but then again it was sort of her fault they were so expensive, she was there when the time room was basically demolished that day at the Ministry nearly two year ago.
Two bottles of Polyjuice. That should be enough, she thought, and she couldn’t risk being found out. Then her eyes lighted on a small, elaborately designed flask with a dark liquid inside it. She picked it up gingerly and pulled off the stopper. Waving her hand above the rim and wafting the smell to her nose Ginny felt a huge catlike grin stretch across her face. Dragon Blood.
“Do you have it?” she whispered a few minutes later.
“Do you have the money?” Dung narrowed his eyes at her.
“Better.”
“Right then,” he pulled out a small object that looked like a watch on a chain, “The money?”
Ginny eyed the thing for a few moments before grabbing it and throwing it around her neck. “Not until I test this thing.”
She turned it about half an hour and just caught herself sneaking off up the stairs. With the remaining time that she had Ginny made herself a cup of tea in the empty kitchen and mulled over her plan for the next few weeks. She was never really that interested in planning, but this time-turner business was going to be a bit complicated and she had to know that her instinct about Zabini was right. The last thing she wanted to be doing was helping a real criminal.
Soon enough her half hour ended and she walked back to the hall to meet a put-out Mundungus. “Well?” he asked.
“It works,” Ginny said taking the flask out of her pocket and handing it to him, “Here.”
“What’s this? This isn’t twenty Galleons.”
“Open it, test it, it’s Dragon Blood, bloody expensive that stuff is?”
Dung poked at it with his wand for a few moments before stowing it in his pocket, nodding, and rushing off to the meeting he had practically missed.
…
“Accio Zabini’s spare robes!” Ginny said purposefully and then turned on Blaise himself.
“Unless you’re going to suggest I drink some of your blood or something, Zabini, I’m going to need to cut off some of that…pretty hair.”
He looked scared, but he was pretty helpless and looked like he was fading into unconsciousness again. Classes would start any minute; she didn’t have time to be nice. She cut a couple of hairs and dropped them into the drink. “I’ll do your classes first, might as well get them over with, and I don’t think I want to know what would happen if you didn’t attend them, I might not do it if I found out what you were afraid of being accused of.”
She grabbed the robes, which had just flown in through the window and walked off to change. This was going to be a nightmare.
“For freedom!” she whispered, staring into the mirror of the spacious bathroom and taking it in one gulp. Ginny spit out nearly half of it and almost threw up the rest, but then her body was distracted by the immediate effects of the potion. She watched her hands grow and felt her shoulders grow as well to fit the robe.
Without giving herself time to think, or look in the mirror, Ginny grabbed Zabini’s bag and rushed off to class. “Wait!” Zabini called when her hand was on the handle of the door. “Remember not to say anything, not to get angry, just observe.”
“Right,” she said without turning, “Observe life, what fun!”
The professors gave the seventh years an impossible amount of work. They used the same bloody speeches Ginny had heard all year last year when she was preparing for her OWLs, but this time there was a lot more of the “your future depends on this” talk and it felt much more serious.
Being Blaise made it surprisingly easy not get drawn into conflicts or tough situations in which she would be revealed. No one really said anything much to him. A few Slytherins nodded at him in the hallways, the Quidditch Captain yelled something about the next practice and Ginny just ignored him and there wasn’t a single professor that actually asked him a question.
By the end of the day, however, her blood was boiling with a new kind of suppressed anger she had never felt before. The dirty looks from self-righteous students who looked down on him for being a Slytherin, actually being followed by Anthony Goldstein who apparently had a death wish of some sort, and the fear that she saw staring back at her from the innocent eyes of first years was enough to drive anyone mad.
She decided to get it all over with and get through the Careers Lesson before using the time turner and going to her own classes. This was mainly because she had found out from Neville that Blaise had switched to Herbology and she seriously wanted to hit something, the plants would be ideal; they always gave a good fight.
That evening Ginny collapsed into the armchair by the fire in the room of Requirement , waiting to turn back into herself. “I’m not doing your bloody homework, Zabini, you’d better get to work on those essays. Three feet for Transfiguration and one for Potions.”
“Ahhh, yes,” Zabini said in a well-rested and slightly mocking tone she really didn’t like, “You’re going to love Ancient Runes tomorrow.”
“Why?” she rounded on his, face flushed, not an ounce of patience left.
“Just pretend you’re sick, Weasley,” he said, “You might even get a class off if Vector is feeling particularly generous.”
“I probably will be sick by then.”
A week went by in a crazy whirlwind of activity in which Ginny began to truly appreciate the wonders of sleep. She did use the time-turner to get extra hours of sleep, but somehow it never seemed to be enough. By the time it was Friday evening she was ready to drop where she was and pass out, but she still had a stupid hour of Healer training with Madam Pomfrey.
Ginny nearly ripped off a third-year’s arm and she actually made a firstie cry at which point Madam Pomfrey sent her a glare and told her to go clean out the cabinets. This was, of course, much worse, because she didn’t want to see another stupid bottle with ‘Pepperup Potion’ written across the front and she had never liked cleaning.
“…and Professor Slughorn wants some of the empty vials if you need any more potions from him.”
She hurriedly stuffed the things back into the cupboard upon hearing that cool collected voice and turned around. Zabini was standing there looking almost as good as new in front of Pomfrey.
“Of course Mr. Zabini!” Pomfrey replied before turning to Ginny.
“Mr. Zabini needs some Bruise Healing Paste - he’s had a flying accident - and some empty vials for Professor Slughorn, you can give those to him and take the rest of the night off before you ruin the entire wing.”
Ginny coughed and nodded, “Sorry, Madam Pomfrey, I’m just...”
“Haven’t got an ounce of patience!” the nurse snapped, “Off with you!”
Ginny walked back to the Room of Requirement and waited for Zabini to come back from Slughorn’s. She dearly wanted to sleep, but he was going to do some explaining first since he was now perfectly capable of coming up with excuses for madam Pomfrey. Not that she was complaining about that.
“Well, Weasley?” he said throwing himself onto the comfortable bed he had inhabited for the past week.
Ginny didn’t answer for a while and then she stood up and walked over to the bedside. She placed the burn healing paste on the small stand beside his other potions and knelt beside the bed. Her hand shot out to his left arm and she began pulling the sleeve up.
“Don’t you already know, Weasley?” he asked, “After all you have been living in…”
“No.”
Ginny held his gaze for a moment before turning back to his left sleeve. She didn’t really know what she wanted, what she expected, but this was what she needed to know more than anything. He wasn’t Snape, but he had something to hide and he had referred to Tom as ‘The Dark Lord” in all his letters.
It was ugly.
It sat there mocking her, marring the perfect skin around it. It grinned at her, if skulls could even do that, and taunted her. Ginny eyed it, took in every part of it and then looked back up, letting the robe sleeve fall back in place.
Ginny suppressed the urge to put her hand to that spot on her shoulder and shoved the Dreamless Draught from his bedside stand into his hands. She wasn’t sure she could manage an intelligent conversation about this right now, she wasn’t sure she’d know what to say before thinking it over first. So she decided to head back to Gryffindor Tower and deal with this in the morning “Goodnight, Zabini.”
