Ginny Weasley and
the Knockturn Weekend
A good cat burglar, working alone, can carry out
a burglary. But what about two burglars,
who are fighting like cats and dogs?
To relate how my family is such a disgrace,
I should handle myself like a lady, just so -
- But the Bat-Bogey Hex is so more apropos!
There's a great set of magical special effects
Resulting from the use of the Bat-Bogey Hex!
It's the bestest at taming the opposite sex -
Just zap the little ferret with the Bat-Bogey Hex!
-o-
After the fifth day in a row of being hexed, it occurred to Draco Malfoy that he desperately needed to negotiate a peace treaty.
It did not come easily. No sooner had he attracted Ginny's attention in a corridor than she whipped out her wand and began "Mucus Rhinoloph..."
"STOP! Please, Weasley! STOP!" he begged, ducking and cringing. Fortunately, there was no audience for this moment of Slytherin shame.
Ginny was unmoved. "Why? Did I already do it today? I don't recall. I love the Bat Bogey Hex; don't you? Oh well; maybe I'll do it anyway, just to be sure. Mucus Rhin..."
"STOP, for God's sake! Hear me out!"
"Wow. A Malfoy invoking God. There's something you don't run across every day. Do you have anything else to say before your daily dose is administered?"
"How long are you going to keep this up?"
"As long as it takes to get my family heirloom back! Mucus Rhin..."
"STOP!"
"Why?"
"Look. I'll get it back, if I can — but it's in Knockturn Alley."
"Why would it possibly be in Knockturn Alley?"
"Because I... I took it there to sell it."
"Mucus Rhin..."
"STOP! "
"Draco Malfoy, you dared to sell it? After you stole it from my brother?"
"Retribution! You know I don't get along with him. He dared to embarrass me and my family by pummeling me. It was handy, I stole it from him, and I sold it. It's between him and me. Why are you fighting his battles? Does he need a girl to... oh, never mind, you'll only start hexing me again. Look, I'll get out of here and go to Knockturn Alley Friday night. I'll try to get it back, and give to you. But don't tell him how you got it. Done?"
"First off, you don't set the terms; I do. Secondly, don't ever try to hex me in retribution; unlike you, I have friends, and I've taught them the hex. You'll never escape it if you drop the ball on this. Got it?"
"Got it."
"Thirdly, I don't trust you to go there alone and do anything with it. Why don't you just have it sent back by owl?"
"Because... because I put it up at Borgin & Burkes on consignment. They sent me money for it, which means... as hard as it would be to sell it on that street, they've somehow managed to be rid of it. All right?"
"It's been sold AGAIN? So, now you don't even know who has it! Oh, you are so doomed."
"I'll try to buy it back. I just have to find out who bought it, and track it down."
"I have a better idea. You and I are both going on Friday evening. However you manage to sneak out of here, you're taking me. We'll both find it. And it'd better be in good shape!"
"All right. We'll find it. It shan't have gone far in five days."
"Eight days, by the time we get there, and probably nine days by the time the shop opens on Saturday. Then, we have a whole big two days to get it back and return to Hogwarts and explain why our weekend assignments aren't done. So, while I think of the enormity of it all, I have one minor little matter for you to quietly mull over."
"What?"
"Mucus Rhinolophidae. Bye!"
After their last Friday class, Draco and Ginny each casually walked outside for a stroll, alone, then met at the chosen spot and headed toward Hogsmeade. As they walked, Ginny held her wand over the road, beckoning transportation. Eventually, the Knight Bus found them on its first rounds of the evening.
Fortunately, they met no one who knew them. At this time of day, many of the bus riders were wizards who had been forced to take Muggle jobs by their inability to succeed in any magical occupation. It was their evening rush hour, and they paid no attention to the young couple.
By dark, Draco and Ginny were in Borough Market at the familiar doorway. They walked through the Leaky Cauldron separately, and with hoods up, so Tom and the other denizens of the pub ignored them.
They did not dare to dwell long on Diagon Alley for fear of being recognised. They would have to live within the darker alley until their lost item was recovered. Ginny wore her robe half open, with one side turned back to cover her Gryffindor crest.
They dined that evening at the Sawney Bean Tavern, a dismal place, about as tastefully decorated as the Catacombs, where the food was only slightly less grimy than the walls. Draco was going to order a lamb dish called Witch's Mummy, then thought better of it with Ginny present. So far, she had gone through the day without hexing him, and he didn't want to upset that apple cart.
The only inn was Aunt Tientists, which had one room available on the back of the ground floor for one night. The attendant referred to it the Mass Stash Room.
Admittedly, the lone bed was huge, because it served a purpose. The various pubs brought their passed-out drunks here. The innkeeper had a habit of stashing all of them in this one bed until it filled up. It saved on housekeeping, and the drunks were in no condition to protest in the morning. He griped about having to rent it to only two strangers this night, and having to outfit it with clean linens made for sober people. Nevertheless, they were sent to the room.
Ginny took one look at the bed situation and said, "Don't."
"Don't what?"
"Don't overlook the fact you hate Weasleys. Not even for one night. Just don't. Which side do you want?"
"I don't care."
"Fine. I'll take the door side. If this dump catches fire, I'd run through the flames before I'd jump out a window in Knockturn Alley. When the front of the building is a nightmare, no telling what's behind it."
Ginny left a candle burning as a nightlight, for need of one reassuring glimmer in a gloomy room. She didn't need it for long, falling asleep almost instantly. Oddly, it was Draco who stayed awake for half an hour, troubled, worrying how they were possibly going to recover their prize after it had been sold.
He lay on his side, contemplating Ginny. There she slept, peacefully, not hexing him, not daring him. She was a pureblood, if truth be told, intelligent and clever. Her boyfriends at school were numerous. She was quickly becoming a master of spells. To any wizard, she'd be a prize.
But the Malfoys, and the small number of other families who followed the Dark Lord, must consider her a traitor, because the Weasleys found better things to do than spreading death and mayhem. Someday, when the dark Lord came to power, she would have to be slaughtered with her family. Would he be the one who had to do it?
If he had to, could he?
He didn't have to wait; he'd find favour with his father if he did it now! They were in Knockturn Alley, where no questions would be asked about such matters. She was asleep. Her wand was out of reach on the washstand. No one knew they were here. She was a Weasley, and had walked into a deadly trap. He could quietly reach for his wand, and in a moment, faster than her daily recital of that irritating hex, he could say those two fatal words and she'd be a corpse without waking. No trail would lead here; she would simply disappear from life. She was utterly, foolishly helpless...
Didn't she realise that when she walked into this situation?
Knowing Ginny, she had to. So... why? Why lie back and give him a royal opportunity to kill her, just to prove himself?
The answer only raised new questions in his mind.
The answer had to be that she trusted him not to. What was her only warning? "Don't overlook the fact you hate Weasleys." She was more worried about his human drives than his wizard preferences, and then she left herself open to both.
Ginny Weasley trusts me, he thought.
She's asleep alongside me, with no fear!
He fell asleep himself while noticing the way her red hair gleamed in the flickering candlelight. It was so entrancing... so pretty... so...
-o-
The morning attendant virtually evicted them. They could not stay another night; it was Saturday, the pubs would be busy, and their room would be needed that night for the Mass Stash.
Ginny balked at dining in the same restaurant as the night before. Breakfast was at Hemlocks Eatery, not much better but a bit sunnier. They chatted about nothing much, trying to avoid subjects they'd only fight over, until the shops started to open.
"Ah, young Master Malfoy! A pleasure to see you! What brings you here today?"
"The same as last time. I need to get it back."
"Oh. Well, that's quite impossible. It's been sold; it wasn't easy, but I managed. I sent the money to your account, and..."
"Yes, yes, I know all that, Borgin. Who bought it?"
"Let me look it up. Another dealer, I believe; your item wasn't exactly in our line this time, of course... Yes, here it is. Teufelshund, down the alley. He carries a broader range of items, and serves a larger clientele. We're more specialists here."
"So, he'll charge me about the same as what you sent me, then?"
"Well... there were handling costs, you understand, and a markup. We must make a profit! We..."
"How much?"
"I... doubled the price. I might have pretended it was an heirloom."
"It is an heirloom," said Ginny.
"Oh, then I wasn't far wrong, then! My, you look familiar, miss. Have you been here before?"
"Not a chance."
"Perhaps a family member, then. Yes, that's it, I remember now. I'm thinking it was a man, though! It couldn't have been that Ministry fellow, could it? What was his name again..."
"Obliviate minimus!" said Ginny, whipping out her wand. Borgin took on a look of pure bafflement.
"What did you do?" said Draco, aghast.
"A forgetfulness charm, but a minor one. He'll have a problem coping for a few minutes, and he won't remember our visit. Let's get out of here."
Teufelshund remembered the item clearly (before Ginny wanded him as her second victim of the day). He had sold it to his brother Herman, another dealer. Naturally, there was a markup in price, which Draco should expect to pay. Draco was beginning to wonder if he'd have to visit Gringotts before the day was over. How much was this stupid weekend going to cost?
"And where is your brother's shop?"
"If you want to deal with him, lad, you'll have to see him tomorrow. He works at another job during the week, but his dealership is in an antiques mall. They open on Sunday afternoon for the tourist trade."
"Antiques mall? Tourist trade? In Knockturn Alley?"
"No. Borough Market, actually. Herman is a squib. He can make more money dealing with Muggles. I imagine he could get quite a good price for it. Here's his card."
Teufelshund didn't remember very much after that.
With Herman unavailable, the rest of Saturday was a total loss. They found another inn, where the attendant smirked at the two underage teenagers taking a room for one night. He said "Nudge, nudge, wink, wink!" several times, which was lost on them. The bed was narrower, too narrow for two people unless they were very, very friendly. Ginny was in no mood for discussion or compromise, and in a rare display of gentlemanliness (for fear of being hexed), Draco spent the night curled up with a blanket on the rug.
"Yes, I remember it," Herman Tuffle said. "Very nice item. I made out quite well on it, actually. I got a very good price. Muggles are fairly loose with their money."
"Wonderful," said Draco, imagining flocks of winged Galleons flying out of his vault.
"He was shopping for presents for his son's upcoming birthday, he said. He liked to shop early."
"So he might still have it himself, sir?" asked Ginny.
"Yes. As I recall, the birthday's not for months yet."
"Do you have his name and address?"
"Not really. He paid cash, and had it delivered to his office address... here we are. It was delivered to 1, Ironpoint Street, Room 97."
"Room 97?" she groaned.
"Yes, 97. Why?"
"Oh, nothing, sir. Thank you. By the way, as long as we're talking antiques, look at this. It's an old magician's wand. Notice the perfect taper, and the fine details. And when I wave it at you like this, and say..."
"Hypocrite," jeered Draco on the short walk back to the Leaky Cauldron. "You defend Muggles, but then you ruin the man's memory."
"I'm trying to cover our tracks," said Ginny in defence.
"Cover our tracks? You're leaving a trail of amnesiacs behind us! Anyway, why were you bothered by a room number?"
"Simple, Draco. It's late Sunday afternoon, with only 15 hours or so before we're due to wake up for Monday classes. It's very likely our goal is in an unoccupied Muggle office building, locked up tight, and nine stories above the ground! Draco Malfoy, I hate you! Look at what you've got us into!"
"Come on. It's just a Muggle building. We're great magicians. We can handle it... can't we?"
"Did it ever occur to you that Muggles might be smarter about some things than us? An office building probably has a guard, or an alarm, or both. For Pete's sake! In fourteen years, haven't you ever bothered to walk around in the Muggle world and learn anything about them?"
"Why would I do that?" he laughed.
"So I'll have to lead you through this again? Oohhhh!" she moaned in frustration. "Well, let's get it over with. We'll get a quick meal in Knockturn Alley, and start chasing my heirloom."
Luckily, the Knight Bus didn't take them all over Britain before getting to their stop. Stan Shunpike was beginning to get curious about his pair of young passengers, but they sidestepped his questions as best they could. They were at the corner of Paddock and Ironpoint Streets in a few harrowing minutes.
They no sooner arrived than two policemen came walking down Paddock Street toward them. Draco was in a right state. "They didn't see us arrive! They're going to ask what we're doing here. Think of something, fast!"
She did. She grabbed him by his blond locks - a boy that she intensely hated - pulled him forward and locked lips with him in a long, long kiss.
The bobbies accepted the scene at face value and passed by, not wishing to disturb the moment.
Neither Ginny nor Draco could hear the men walking away, and prolonged the kiss quite unnecessarily for another minute.
When they finally separated, Draco was the first to recover. "Weasley, if you ever tell any... oh, never mind. You know what I mean."
"It's mutual. You're a fairly nice kiss, actually. You should try it more often. Just not with me."
"I wouldn't expect it to be with you. For me, a good day is when you're not hexing me."
"And you'll notice I haven't hexed you in two days - but I haven't forgotten how, or why. We'd better recover it tonight, Malfoy, or I'll be making up for lost time."
They turned to examine the scene. Ironpoint Street was a one-company cul-de-sac. Number 1 was an office building and warehouse to the left, Number 2 a machine shop to their right, with a car park between them. Each building was surrounded by a great old iron fence, topped in sharp curlicue points.
Ginny paused at the sign on Number 1's fence. "I have the strangest feeling I should know this name. I've heard of it someplace before."
Draco looked at it, but he shrugged. "It means nothing to me." He read it again:
Fine Drills Since 1869.
"Well," she said, "let's have a go. Right off, this gate is locked. It doesn't look like much, though. Alohomora!"
The lock clicked open. No gongs sounded. So far, so good.
The front door of the office building was even easier; it was left unlocked, serving only to keep out the weather, not people. It led into a small lobby, where wand light found a map of the ground floor. They noted where Room 7 was, and hoped that the same layout applied on the upper floors.
A directory on the opposite wall identified each room's occupant, and Ginny chuckled in stunned disbelief. "Oh, what are the odds? Of all the Muggles in the world! So that's where I've heard of Grunnings."
"What is it?" asked Draco.
"97 — Mr. V. Dursley, Industry Sales."
"Should I know who he is?"
"Never mind. You wouldn't appreciate the sardonic humour of this moment. Let's get there. This inner door is probably locked — yes, sure enough. Plus, they probably mean it with this sticker about the Bramah Alarm Company. One mistake and we'll be up to our ears in Muggles."
"Go on. We can handle them. Open the door."
"Your sudden trust in my magic is very reassuring, but we're not going through this door. We wouldn't get to the First Floor before the police were on the way. Let's check the layout once more, then we'll go outside."
Once they were in the yard, she first looked up at the parapet of the roof. There was what she was hoping for.
"See that? It's a hoist. The building was put up before the Muggles devised lifts. It's for raising furniture and whatnot, so they shan't have to carry it up the stairs. If we can only put it to use! Accio hook!"
The hook cooperated. Unfortunately, the old cable and its rusty hoist didn't, and the huge hook dropped to the ground noisily, all by itself, and totally useless. Ginny was... philosophical. Oh, okay, she was angry with herself. She hated to fail in front of Draco.
"Humph. Okay, that didn't work exactly as I thought it would. Plan B. Let's go to the Room 7 windows." They counted windows along the ground floor, and found the ones they wanted.
"Okay," said Ginny. "Ready to be a cat burglar?"
"Cat burglar? What did you have in mind?"
"Well, unless you want to buy another broom, or spend hours summoning one, we can't fly up there. But we can leap our way — one story at a time."
"Leap? Up there? Have you lost your mind?"
"No; I've only lost an item in Room 97, and I'm going to get it back. Come on, we're running out of time. Ready?"
"What are we doing?"
"An Ascendio should get us up to the First Floor window. The sills are nice and roomy. Then we'll hang on to the window frame and do it again, over and over, until we're on Nine. Then we'll break in. I'm gambling that they don't have it alarmed. After all, what thief would be crazy enough to break into a building on a Ninth Floor window? Only us. Ready?"
"I-I've never done an Ascendio."
"There's a first time for everything. We'll hang on to each other. Okay?"
"Ohhhh. all right, I'll do it when you do."
"Fine. Take my hand, and... Ascendio!"
Ginny's feet found the First Floor window sill, but only Draco's wand hand made it that far.
"Quickly! Do it again!" she urged him, as she struggled to hang on and hold Draco from falling. His second charm brought him to the sill with her, his heart racing. They were only 13 feet off the ground, with 80 feet to go.
"Oh, that went well," she said. "Are you going to make it?"
"I'll make it. I'll just have to try harder. At least the charm worked on my first try. I wouldn't want to make the same mistake up there."
"Do it a second time if you need to, but do it right off. I can't hold you for long. Ready?"
The wizard cat burglars proceeded up the building with their haphazard method. They were six stories up when Draco once more fell short.
For the brief moment until he caught up, Ginny held him up and entertained an evil thought.
What if I were to let go of him?
No one would miss him except his own family. Ron and Harry would be happier, Hermione and I would be happier — no, I couldn't do it. He's a human being, after all, and a wizard. He's one of us. Oh, sure; behind that cold exterior lies a heart of pure ice. He could change! He may not be much of a wizard yet, and his father probably has him believing he's the next generation of Death Eater. And, he's not really handsome, or anything —
Good Lord, am I starting to like this little git? I've got to get a grip.
In less than ten minutes, they were poised on Vernon Dursley's sill. Alohomora didn't work on the window latch; it wasn't really a lock, just a catch.
"Okay. Then I'll have to break the window."
"With what?"
"With a wand, of course."
"What's the charm?"
"Think like a Muggle for once, Malfoy!" With that, she took the back end of her wand and smashed a pane.
"Oh," he said.
She reached in and turned the simple catch that held the window, and the bottom sash jumped open an inch. Trying hard not to fall, they pushed the window up with their shoe tips, and climbed down into Room 97.
"What a mess," said Draco, looking at the stacks of letters, circulars, catalogs and drill samples everywhere.
"Why am I not surprised?" smiled Ginny. "Now, let's find it."
Nothing looked like it. She checked the vertical files, the equally messy closet and a bookcase without luck.
Draco was puzzled. "Who is this V. Dursley, anyway? Quite a slob."
"You don't know the half of it. Let's just say that I know where to go if he took it home. Otherwise, keep looking, and don't ask."
Then she checked the desk drawers, and hit paydirt. It was a colourfully-wrapped box, with a label reading Happy Birthday to Dudley from Father.
"I'll bet you this is it," she said. "I'm just feeling lucky." She ripped open the package -
- and there it was. The Weasley family heirloom.
"Bingo! Search over." She handled it lovingly. "My great-grandmum made this, y'know."
"How wonderful for you. Escape time?"
"What time is it, anyway?"
"His desk clock says 9.22."
"So very late! We'll leave the fast way. Is his office door alarmed? Sure enough. Ready for some company? Then, let's get noisy. Alohomora!"
Once she pulled the door open, a buzzer started sounding at the end of the hall.
"Now, we stroll downstairs to welcome our guests."
They arrived at the front door in two minutes, just as the alarm company and the police came. As soon as the alarm was retired and the complex door lock clicked open, the men dashed in, only to be greeted with "Obliviate minimus!" The men milled around in momentary confusion, trying to remember why they had come here, while Draco and Ginny calmly walked past them and out the front door.
Stan Shunpike was more curious than ever when the Knight Bus returned to its previous stop at Ironpoint Street, only to find his passengers standing by several cars with flashing lights. Ginny was ready to hex Stan if he got too nosy. All she got to say were the sweetest words of that weekend:
"Hogsmeade, please."
They'd still have to sneak into their dorms, but not to worry. They'd burn that bridge when they came to it.
They paid Stan's fee, took to their separate beds and sat down for the wild ride.
"Tomorrow, we're back to normal, y'know," she said.
"Without a daily hex, I hope?"
"Your slate's wiped clean for now. I'm not worried. No doubt you'll earn your way back onto my hit list in no time."
And so it was that Ron and Ginny returned the purloined prize to the Burrow by owl. It was too enormous for her, anyway. Molly brought it to the front room and put it in its place of honour, on the seat of the chair nearest the fireplace - the chair no one sat in any more. Thus, they returned it to its proper owner. Purrity, the Weasley family cat, was glad to see it back. While the chair was quite comfortable in front of an evening fire, it hadn't been the same since the heirloom had been taken several years ago, loaned to Ginny when she first went to Hogwarts, because they couldn't afford a new one for her. Purrity once more leapt into the chair and nosed her way into the warmth to be found under the heirloom — great-grandmum's knitted jumper — and curled up to sleep there as though it had never been away a single day.
Written for a Draco-Ginny cat burglar challenge at Live Journal. The "heirloom" is Ginny's jumper from the CoS movie. ("Yes, dear, it was on the cat.") The Bat-Bogey Hex, Ginny's song, appears in its entirety at Harry Potter Filks. Original story material is the property of the fanfic author; other material of Rowling et al. falls under the usual disclaimer.