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Chapter Three
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“No. It’s not mine,” Ginny said, and those were the magic words that triggered a pandemonium of action.
The Aurors forgot their subtlety, and began rummaging through every inch of her flat. The photographers were going crazy, taking shot after shot of the dull metal weapon. Harry was yelling at Draco, who was rolling his eyes and dropping sarcastic remarks, and Hermione was either muttering spells over the axe, or barking out orders at her team of Aurors. Lavender was working on breaking the world record for fastest writer; her new exclusive article, ‘The Chaser of a Chaser’, was going to sell millions! She just knew it.
Ginny was feeling rather detached from all the activity. There was an evil-looking blunt axe in her flat, which had made its appearance within the same day as a former Death Eater, who had spent the last two hours under her roof. It was a miracle she wasn’t dead yet. Harry was terrifying in his state, his green eyes flashing dangerously with rage. Hermione was no longer Hermione, but a crime-solving machine. Though she was usually warm and friendly, when she was in her Auror-mode, she was cold and emotionless. Seeing her closest friends so dangerous and menacing made Ginny feel distinctly uncomfortable.
The Aurors, who were running around frantically, reminded Ginny of the war, during which she was normally surrounded by Order members in various states of panic. So many of them had been lost… The crowdedness of her flat also reminded her of the Burrow, and with a wave of sadness, Ginny remembered that it was no longer very crowded. Only her Mum, Fred, and George remained. Ron lived at Hogwarts, Percy lived in London, and they had all drifted apart. The rest… the rest had not made it through the war.
Oliver was gently patting her shoulder, in much the same way that Charlie used to when she was upset. Charlie had always been her favorite brother, and Oliver acted so much like him… Except that Charlie had usually smelled of burnt leather, but Oliver smelled like the wood of a broomstick handle, and the grass of a Quidditch pitch, and while the smell was comforting, it also reminded her that she really missed playing, but was stuck on bloody Reserve, while Draco sodding Malfoy was playing in her place. The vile little ferret was also sitting in her armchair, looking insufferable as always, probably wanting to murder her with that stupid axe – even after she made him soup, the miserable bastard – which was a very disturbing thought, and now her head hurt, and she was feeling woozy from too much potion, and her shoulder was still throbbing, and Oliver’s presence next to her was so steady and solid, and the next thing she knew, she was sobbing into her Quidditch Captain’s chest.
“It’s all right, Ginny,” Oliver murmured in his soft Scottish accent, stroking her hair. “No axe-murderer is going to get you when you have me, Harry, and Hermione around.”
That reminded her. She was always being protected. She had never even had the proper chance to fight during the war. Even Malfoy had fought for their side at one point, but she never had – she hadn’t been allowed to, because her parents and her brothers had all demonstrated more overprotection than should be legal; even Charlie had been against her fighting.
She didn’t need everyone’s protection. She could take care of herself! So there was an axe-murderer out to get her. So what? Most likely, said axe-murderer was the blond man sitting in her armchair. She’ll show him the side of Ginny Weasley that was never given the opportunity to show itself!
With an angry huff, Ginny flung herself off Oliver’s chest, growled at him for trying to play the overprotective-brother role, much to his confusion, and did what her brain – her severely sleep-deprived, overworked, addled on pain-relief potion brain – told her was the logical thing to do. “You!” she thundered at a slightly surprised Draco, pointing a freckly finger two inches from his face. She snatched the axe away from Hermione, who was testing it for fingerprints, lifted it high above her head, and swung it directly in the direction of Draco Malfoy’s pale, pointed, terror-stricken face.
---
“It’s the pain-relief potion,” Oliver was testifying to Head Auror Joseph Brand. “She smashed her shoulder, and she’s been taking large amounts of the potion. It’s affected her brain. She’s also received a lot of stress in a short amount of time. She’s not herself. And besides, she’s under the impression that Malfoy was trying to kill her first.”
Auror Brand nodded impatiently, jotting down a few notes. Celebrity cases. He hated them. He had better things to do, such as worry about the Russian Wizarding Mafia, whose activities were getting more suspicious every day. Celebrity cases, on the other hand, were rarely anything more than spite caused by jealousy leading to a crime, and were rather simple cases by nature, but the Ministry just had to have the Head Auror look into every case involving celebrities – including potion-addled Quidditch stars wielding blunt axes. The only thing that made this case even remotely interesting was the involvement of Draco Malfoy, who wasn’t dead, meaning that Harry Potter was due for a serious meeting with the Board of Aurors. Knowing Potter, he would probably get off with nothing more than a suspension, maybe a few months at the most. Celebrity Aurors. He hated them.
Hermione, another celebrity Auror, was biting her lip, engaged in an internal debate with herself.
Ginny is – well, she’s Ginny. She’s not a murderer, and you know it, Hermione.
Hermione Jane Granger-Potter! Are you letting your personal feelings affect your job? Weasley is a threat to society! You can’t let innocent victims die because you’re too soft to condemn your own friend!
But Ginny isn’t a threat to society! Analyzing her current situations, especially the pain-relief potion, it is safe to say that under Code 9124 of Magical Law and Reinforcement, Ginny should not be convicted of attempted murder because she didn’t know that she was trying to attempt murder.
Listen, Potter. Weasley said, “Die, Malfoy, die!” while swinging the axe in his face. If that doesn’t indicate that she was trying to kill him, what does?
She’s always hated Malfoy –
You’ve always hated Malfoy. Do you go around swinging blunt axes at him?
Well, no, but –
No buts, Potter! Are you an Auror or not?
But she wasn’t sane at the moment! A therapy or two at St. Mungo’s Psychiatric Ward –
Should have taken place last year, when she tried to beat Joscelind Wadcock to death with a broomstick!
No! She didn’t! That was you and your paranoia. It was quite embarrassing too, how everyone looked at me like I lost my mind, or something.
You’re getting soft, Potter. I’m disappointed in myself.
But Hermione –
Didn’t I say ‘no buts’? It doesn’t matter who the guilty party is! It doesn’t matter if it’s Harry –
HARRY WILL NEVER BE THE GUILTY PARTY!
Okay, all right. Just – just keep your hair on. Merlin. So, it doesn’t matter if Professor McGonagall – is that better?
A bit.
Great. It doesn’t matter if Professor McGonagall is the guilty party. You are an Auror, and it’s your job to keep the world safe from raving lunatics and potential axe-murderers! If it isn’t for people like you, who would keep the children safe at night? If all the Aurors let their criminal friends get away, would anyone be safe in our world? It’s up to you to make a difference, Hermione Potter! Only you – and Harry – can save the world!
What a beautiful speech. I should have been a novelist; I’d move people to tears.
Oh, shut up, Potter. Now get out there and save the world! Got it?
“Got it!”
Auror Brand raised a graying eyebrow. “Got what, Potter?”
“Ginny Weasley should be taken in for standard-procedure criminal interrogating,” Hermione said firmly, her eyes sparkling with some sort of noble, heroic emotion.
“Hermione!” Oliver said in shock.
Hermione’s eyes were blazing with what could only be described as justice. “And Oliver Wood, too. It is highly possible that he was Weasley’s accomplice in numerous crimes!”
“What numerous crimes? Stealing Quaffles from the opposite team’s players?”
“Is that a confession, Mr. Wood?”
Auror Brand rolled his eyes and sighed. “Just go in for the interrogation, Mr. Wood. It’ll get Auror Potter off your back, and make the rest of your life much more enjoyable. Just pretend it’s an interview. I’ll get my secretary to fetch you a nice cup of tea and some blueberry scones.”
---
“Well,” said Oliver gruffly, after more than three hours of ridiculous, nonstop questioning. “That went well.” The sun was already beginning to rise, sending rays of soft gold light shining through the cracks in the blinds. He was late for practice. He couldn’t believe it! He, Oliver Wood, the Captain of the Puddlemere United team, was late for practice!
Ginny, who was given a pain-relief charm instead of a potion, was back to her senses, blushing furiously, and refusing to meet Draco’s gaze.
Draco, who had been this close to having his beautiful face slashed into halves, was glaring daggers at Ginny, enraged beyond words.
Hermione looked sheepish, and quietly looked over a case file regarding a flock of mad pigeons attacking Muggles in Suffolk.
Harry was currently being reprimanded for lying to the Board about Draco Malfoy’s death.
The Potters’ office reflected its inhabitants. Hermione’s side of the room was impeccably clean – so clean that it was almost sterile, and visitors almost never went to her side, out of fear of somehow tainting her space. Even now, Ginny, Oliver, and even Draco, who believed that cleanliness was a virtue, were sitting in chairs on Harry’s half of the room, which was much more welcoming. While Hermione’s desk was free of anything except for her desk lamp, a quill and ink pot, a small bowl of paper clips, and a framed photo of the Trio (which was measured with a ruler to be exactly three inches away from the edge of the desk), Harry’s was covered with various odds and ends. Not having color-coded folders to go with his equally nonexistent color-coded filing cabinet, Harry’s desk was covered with a dangerously high stack of case files, all out of order. In addition to that were several inky quills, old owl post, a bowl of lemon drops infested with ants, random pieces of parchment, a broken paperweight, too many picture frames to count, and hidden underneath an ancient case file was what looked suspiciously like a slice of cake from Ginny’s twenty-fourth birthday party – which took place more than a month ago.
There was complete silence in the room, except for the occasional rustle of papers as Hermione reviewed the details of the mad pigeons. Hermione wasn’t really reading the case file, of course. She was trying to figure out how to apologize for her paranoia. She had tried to incarcerate two old friends on the premises of attempting to murder an old enemy. What was wrong with her? It was the blasted war. There was no other explanation for how her usually trusting self had suddenly begun to think of everyone as potential criminals and traitors.
Just as Hermione was about to make a speech on the hardships of war affecting the human psyche, the door squeaked open – Hermione cringed. That door was going to be oiled the old-fashioned Muggle way immediately, as soon as her guests left – and Harry trudged in. “Almost lost my job,” he muttered, then looked apologetically at Hermione. “I’m on suspension for the rest of the year. They’ll send you a replacement partner – I heard it was a kid fresh out of Auror training,” he said disdainfully.
Hermione nodded morosely. She hated rookies. They were all full of brash impulse, and had no meticulous strategies or cunning plans – except the Slytherins, but she didn’t like them either. “It’s all right, Harry. I’m just so glad they didn’t fire you.” Harry gave her the ‘I am Harry Potter, Savior of the world, and nobody fires me’ wink. Hermione smiled, but the smile faded away as she turned to the rest of the people in her office. “Er, about me trying to accuse you…” She trailed away.
“She didn’t mean it. She was just way into her job,” Harry finished.
“I didn’t mean it either!” Ginny chimed in. “I was tired, and stressed, and scared, and confused, and had too much potion, and – and, ImsorryItriedtokillyouMalfoy.”
“What was that?” Draco snapped. “I don’t think I quite heard you, with you talking to the floor and all.”
“I’m sorry I tried to kill you.”
“Mmhmm. And?”
“And I’m sorry for thinking that you tried to kill me, when I saw quite clearly that you never brought an axe with you.”
“Mmhmm. And?”
“And you’re sorry for barging into my flat like that. You will pay for the food you ate, and leave as soon as possible.”
“Mmhmm – what? No, Weasley! For attempting to kick my bucket for me, I think you owe me a year’s worth of free food and lodging. After all, a Malfoy’s life is quite pricey.”
“Malfoy, you are making unreasonable demands!” Hermione declared, the fire back in her eyes. “You are dangerously close to being guilty of attempting to blackmail –”
“About the axe!” Harry cut in. “Ginny, it is highly possible that there is honestly and truly someone out to murder you. My team of Aurors haven’t been able to find any more evidence, but we advise you to take special care. If you want, I can find you a bodyguard, or even an Auror to –”
“Thanks for the concern, Harry, but I don’t need to be protected. I have a wand, and I have the dueling skills. I just want him out of my flat!”
“Oh, what a great way to show your remorse for trying to murder an innocent bystander, eh?”
“Actually, Ginny,” Harry began, looking rather uncomfortable with himself, “I think it might be better to have him around. Either that, or you go back to the Burrow.”
“I don’t want to endanger my family,” Ginny said shortly. “And you must be out of your mind to suggest that I live with Malfoy, of all people. I’d rather move in with Oliver.”
Oliver’s eyes lit up. “Really? That’ll be great! We can practice Quidditch all day and all night!”
“Er…” Did I really say that? I meant it as a figure of speech… Ginny was already feeling confused enough about her Quidditch Captain and best friend, and didn’t think it would be wise to actually live with him.
“And where, exactly, will I go?” Draco said sourly. “It was Aunt Andromeda’s death wish for a Weasley to help me out! You can never ignore a death wish!”
“A Weasley, Malfoy. Not Ginny Weasley, specifically,” Ginny pointed out, but without much enthusiasm. Maybe, if Malfoy lived with me, Oliver might get jeal – Ginny Weasley! Perish the thought!
“I thought I already explained my logic on why you were the Weasley, Weasley.”
“All right, everyone settle down!” Harry said in his authoritative voice. “Ginny, I really feel bad about leaving you alone. I’d like it best if you accepted help from the Aurors.”
“No.”
“Then return to the Burrow, where Fred and George can keep an eye on you. If not, staying with Oliver doesn’t seem like a bad idea, since you’re on the same team, and have the same schedule.”
“And I’m chopped, seasoned, and sautéed liver, am I?”
“Or you can uphold Andromeda’s death wish,” Harry mumbled grudgingly.
Ginny scowled, stubbornly glaring at Harry, who stubbornly met her gaze. It was green against brown, and it looked like Ginny was winning, until she broke away and said, “I don’t want to move. It’s too much hassle.”
“Ah. So my dear Auntie gets her death wish,” Draco said smugly.
“Shut it, Malfoy. Go live with my Mum. She’ll take one look at you, you’ll break her heart with how thin you are, and she’ll feed you until you burst.”
“What nonsense. Malfoys do not gain unsightly weight. Potter, I will be happy to keep your loser-worshiping sidekick’s little sister safe from vicious axe-murderers.”
“Can we just use her name?” Harry asked glumly. He still felt sorry to Ron. Though it was Ron who had ended things with Hermione – causing her to cry on Harry’s shoulder, causing Harry to feel not-so-platonic feelings for his sobbing best friend – he still felt a bit guilty about marrying Hermione. The Trio’s friendship had never quite been the same after that, though Ron pretended that nothing was wrong (except when sticking pins into his cornhusk doll named Parry Hotter).
“It’s settled then,” Draco declared with an air of finality. “Come on, Weasley, let’s go home. I’m bloody tired.”
Ginny looked like she was going to be sick.
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In Ottery St. Catchpole, London, and Hogwarts, several flame-haired gentlemen jumped out of their seats in panic as they read the morning’s Daily Prophet. This edition was so full of sensationally shocking news that the editors had left out both the comics (to Fred, George, and Ron’s dismay) and the weather (to Percy’s dismay).
The first article was shocking to all of the Weasley brothers except Ron, who, along with Hermione, had known of the secret.
BREAKING NEWS
The Return of the Heir
By Lavender Brown
Draco Black Malfoy, Heir to the confiscated Malfoy fortunes, has returned from the dead as a Chaser for Puddlemere United. He shocked the Puddlemere team with his unannounced arrival, and shocked them even more when he displayed his Quidditch skills.
The young Malfoy had always shown a talent for the sport, rivaling none other than Harry Potter during their days at Hogwarts. Malfoy has played Seeker for five years at Hogwarts, but after his mysterious disappearance (more on that later), he now makes his big comeback as an excellent Chaser. “He made eight out of ten goals against Keeper Oliver Wood. That’s something only Joscelind Wadcock could ever do,” said Philbert Deverill, the Puddlemere Coach, cleverly complimenting three of his players with only one comment.
Many of you are probably wondering how the former Death Eater is alive, when Harry Potter told the world that he had killed Draco Malfoy. The truth is, Harry Potter lied. Now, before you go throwing rocks at the Man-Who-Lied, please remember that he is not only a skilled Auror who can hex you into a toadstool for throwing rocks at him, but is also the Savior of our world.
The real truth behind Malfoy was revealed to us, here at the Daily Prophet, by none other than Draco Malfoy himself, as well as Harry Potter. According to the two former enemies, the desperate pleading of Andromeda Tonks nee Black is what saved the young Malfoy’s life. Tonks had lost her Muggle husband, Auror daughter, and both of her Death Eater sisters during the war, and wanted to spare her last living relative. Potter granted her this wish, and claimed that Malfoy was dead to spare him from the harassing of reporters and Aurors. We reporters personally feel offense to that, because we do not harass anyone, but that is another story.
Another startling fact that was kept hidden from the public is that Malfoy’s memory has been modified. Extracting the memory of a resisting Occlumens can be very dangerous for said Occlumens, so please do not try this at home. After capturing Malfoy, who had turned against the Order to work for the Death Eaters once more, Potter indelicately attempted to retrieve Malfoy’s memories for Ministry purposes. As a result, the then-eighteen-year-old Malfoy was left with only the first thirteen-and-a-half years of his memories. In other words, he has no recollection of the war. This is good, not only for Malfoy’s mental health, but for ours too.
From the moment he lost his memory to the present, Malfoy has lived in an isolated Swiss wizarding village under the care of Andromeda Tonks. He is no longer the dangerous Death Eater Malfoy who has haunted our dreams. He is no more dangerous than a sarcastic thirteen-year-old goat herder. (Malfoy has apparently lived with goats in his backyard while in Switzerland.) Even though Malfoy is back, the Aurors (all of them, not just the Auror-Who-Fibbed) guarantee us that we can all sleep safely at night, except for those of us who have a chronic fear of thirteen-year-old goat herders.
The second article was much more disturbing.
The Chaser of Chasers
By Lavender Brown
Puddlemere United’s star Chaser, Ginny Weasley, is being chased by an unknown axe-murderer.
Her flat was raided early this morning by the Potters’ team of Aurors. A certain Daily Prophet reporter had been tipped off by her boyfriend that Draco Malfoy was back and stalking Ginny Weasley. When this reporter tipped off the Aurors, the Aurors invaded Weasley’s flat, only to find that Malfoy had only been after Weasley for a bowl of soup. What they found instead was the mysterious axe, which has been confirmed to not belong to Malfoy.
Auror Harry Potter had once stopped a Puddlemere game because he suspected an axe-murderer was after Weasley (described in detail in the May 22 edition of the Daily Prophet). No evidence was found, but now, after almost four months of inactivity, the axe-murderer is back and ready to strike.
Weasley, who is currently on Reserve for her shoulder injury (described in detail in last Monday’s edition of the Daily Prophet – though we reporters are now beginning to wonder if those Bludgers had been charmed by the suspect), was shocked to find the axe under her couch. “It’s not mine,” she claimed in horror. Draco Malfoy has claimed that it was not his, either.
Aurors are currently running experiments on the axe.
Weasley and Malfoy have returned to Weasley’s flat – together. They have apparently started living together, making us, here at the Daily Prophet, wonder if there was – or is, or will be – something between the two young Chasers. With one being a Malfoy and the other being a Weasley, we reporters are waiting with bated breaths to see if a dramatic, forbidden romance will play out between the two.
There was more to the article – the part of how Ginny had mistaken Malfoy for the axe-murderer, and had tried to murder him – but at this point, all the Weasley brothers were out of their seats, and heading for Ginny’s. Only George stayed behind long enough to burn the paper before his mum saw it and had a heart attack.
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It was strange, coming home with a companion. Ever since she joined Puddlemere, Ginny had lived alone in her flat. And now, the vilest person to disgrace the Earth with his presence was present in her home.
“Old Wood didn’t seem to be too happy about us skipping practice.”
“He’s just saying that. We’re in no condition to do anything.”
“Too true.”
They stood at the doorway for a moment, awkwardly looking at each other, wondering what to do next.
“Well then, good night.”
Draco Malfoy was saying a greeting – an actually pleasant greeting – to her. “You mean good morning,” Ginny blurted.
“Whatever. Pleasant dreams,” he said, then walked off towards the couch.
“You too,” Ginny replied, feeling like there was something very wrong with the world if Draco Malfoy was wishing her – or anyone else, for that matter – pleasant dreams. Of course, his idea of a pleasant dream probably involved insulting other people and hexing them into unrecognizable blobs of goo, but it was still the thought that counted – right?
Shaking her head at the bizarreness of it all, especially the part where she, for some unfathomable reason, didn’t shove Draco out the door, Ginny dragged her exhausted feet to her bedroom. After a ridiculous night of Malfoys, axes, and interrogations, Ginny wanted nothing more than to drown in the comfort of her bed. As soon as she settled down under her blissful covers, however, she found that her wish would not be granted.
“GINNY!” someone bellowed from the sitting room. It sounded like Percy.
“MALFOY?” another voice thundered. Ron.
“GINNY! MALFOY?” two voices. Undoubtedly Fred and George.
“No!” Ginny yelled, throwing herself out of bed, and ripping the door away from its frame. “No! Ginny Malfoy does not live here! Ginny Malfoy will never live here! In fact, Ginny Malfoy will never exist! So piss off!”
“No, Ginny, we will not piss off!” shouted Ron, using language that no Hogwarts Professor should. He shook the paper in his sister’s tired face. “What is the meaning of this?”
“Why is Malfoy in your flat?” Percy demanded, pointing hysterically at the blond man, who was laying down on Ginny’s couch as if nothing was wrong with the world. “I am in line to be the youngest Minister of Magic in centuries, and having my unmarried sister rooming with an unmarried man, especially a man who is a former Death Eater, is completely harmful to my name and image!”
“Well then,” Ginny spat, “should I go room with a married man? Maybe Harry, my good friend’s husband?”
Percy looked scandalized, as did her other brothers, especially Ron.
“Ginny!” Ron sounded almost desperate. “Why do you insist on living with Malfoy? Are you really in love with him?”
“Of course not!” Ginny raged. “If you want to know why I’m living with Malfoy, go ask Harry sodding Potter! Because he’s the one who set me up to this!” Blaming it all on Harry – definitely not the most responsible or moral thing to do, but she was so incredibly tired, her nerves were on edge, and putting up with her brothers wasn’t exactly what she wanted to do right now. Besides, he had suggested that she live with Draco – sort of, as a last resort.
“Harry?” the four redheaded men echoed.
“Yes, Harry,” sighed Ginny, too tired to scream. “He didn’t want me living alone because he thinks some axe-murderer is after me. And –” she continued, before any of her brothers could interrupt, “he didn’t want any of you being in danger either. So he made Malfoy come here, because his life is expendable.” Yes, she justified to herself, finally seeing the logic behind the madness. Malfoy is here for my safety, and his life really is expendable. We all thought he was dead anyway, right?
Malfoy huffed indignantly from his place on the couch.
“So that’s why I’m being forced to endure having that insufferable ferret live in my flat. I’m about as happy about it as you are – maybe less. I’ve been hounded by reporters and Aurors all night because of him. Can I please, please get some sleep now?”
Ginny sounded like a person ready to die, and her brothers, being the ever-understanding Weasleys, sympathized with her. “Of course, Ginny,” said George, patting her reassuringly on the shoulder. “We feel your pain. Sorry we barged in on you. We’ll leave.”
“And,” said Fred, “if he does anything – absolutely anything – to hurt you or bother you, you tell us.” He cracked his knuckles ominously, and Ginny thought she heard another snort from the couch.
“Er… Do try not to hurt my image. I’ll be Minister Weasley, not Minister Percy, so everything you do reflects on me.”
“Oh, you shouldn’t have said that, old Perce,” snickered Fred.
“You’re forgetting who else are Weasleys around here,” laughed George.
“Oh dear,” sighed Percy.
“Come now, dear brother. The future Minister needs escorting to his office.”
“Or to a dark corner of Knockturn Alley.”
“Or to the middle of a jungle in Brazil.”
“Or to an uninhabited island in the Pacific.”
The twins sniggered and Disapparated, towing their bespectacled brother along with them.
Ron lingered behind. “Be careful, Ginny,” he said, shooting a withering look at Draco, which was rather pointless, since the other man’s eyes were closed. “If he tries anything – looks at you the wrong way or says something disrespectful – I’ll kill him, and use him to teach my Defense class about Inferi,” Ron said darkly.
Ginny smiled weakly. “Thanks, Ron. He won’t do anything. Harry’ll make sure of it.”
“Harry,” he scoffed. “Right then. Bye, Gin.”
“Bye, Ron.”
He nodded grimly, threw Floo powder into the fireplace, and disappeared in a rush of emerald green flames and a shouted, “Hogwarts!”
“That was a lovely visit,” Draco murmured sleepily.
“Sod off, Malfoy.”
Ginny received no response. She looked over to the couch and saw Draco, peacefully asleep, looking for all the world like an innocent teenager. How deceiving looks could be.
---
To be continued…
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Chapter Three
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“No. It’s not mine,” Ginny said, and those were the magic words that triggered a pandemonium of action.
The Aurors forgot their subtlety, and began rummaging through every inch of her flat. The photographers were going crazy, taking shot after shot of the dull metal weapon. Harry was yelling at Draco, who was rolling his eyes and dropping sarcastic remarks, and Hermione was either muttering spells over the axe, or barking out orders at her team of Aurors. Lavender was working on breaking the world record for fastest writer; her new exclusive article, ‘The Chaser of a Chaser’, was going to sell millions! She just knew it.
Ginny was feeling rather detached from all the activity. There was an evil-looking blunt axe in her flat, which had made its appearance within the same day as a former Death Eater, who had spent the last two hours under her roof. It was a miracle she wasn’t dead yet. Harry was terrifying in his state, his green eyes flashing dangerously with rage. Hermione was no longer Hermione, but a crime-solving machine. Though she was usually warm and friendly, when she was in her Auror-mode, she was cold and emotionless. Seeing her closest friends so dangerous and menacing made Ginny feel distinctly uncomfortable.
The Aurors, who were running around frantically, reminded Ginny of the war, during which she was normally surrounded by Order members in various states of panic. So many of them had been lost… The crowdedness of her flat also reminded her of the Burrow, and with a wave of sadness, Ginny remembered that it was no longer very crowded. Only her Mum, Fred, and George remained. Ron lived at Hogwarts, Percy lived in London, and they had all drifted apart. The rest… the rest had not made it through the war.
Oliver was gently patting her shoulder, in much the same way that Charlie used to when she was upset. Charlie had always been her favorite brother, and Oliver acted so much like him… Except that Charlie had usually smelled of burnt leather, but Oliver smelled like the wood of a broomstick handle, and the grass of a Quidditch pitch, and while the smell was comforting, it also reminded her that she really missed playing, but was stuck on bloody Reserve, while Draco sodding Malfoy was playing in her place. The vile little ferret was also sitting in her armchair, looking insufferable as always, probably wanting to murder her with that stupid axe – even after she made him soup, the miserable bastard – which was a very disturbing thought, and now her head hurt, and she was feeling woozy from too much potion, and her shoulder was still throbbing, and Oliver’s presence next to her was so steady and solid, and the next thing she knew, she was sobbing into her Quidditch Captain’s chest.
“It’s all right, Ginny,” Oliver murmured in his soft Scottish accent, stroking her hair. “No axe-murderer is going to get you when you have me, Harry, and Hermione around.”
That reminded her. She was always being protected. She had never even had the proper chance to fight during the war. Even Malfoy had fought for their side at one point, but she never had – she hadn’t been allowed to, because her parents and her brothers had all demonstrated more overprotection than should be legal; even Charlie had been against her fighting.
She didn’t need everyone’s protection. She could take care of herself! So there was an axe-murderer out to get her. So what? Most likely, said axe-murderer was the blond man sitting in her armchair. She’ll show him the side of Ginny Weasley that was never given the opportunity to show itself!
With an angry huff, Ginny flung herself off Oliver’s chest, growled at him for trying to play the overprotective-brother role, much to his confusion, and did what her brain – her severely sleep-deprived, overworked, addled on pain-relief potion brain – told her was the logical thing to do. “You!” she thundered at a slightly surprised Draco, pointing a freckly finger two inches from his face. She snatched the axe away from Hermione, who was testing it for fingerprints, lifted it high above her head, and swung it directly in the direction of Draco Malfoy’s pale, pointed, terror-stricken face.
---
“It’s the pain-relief potion,” Oliver was testifying to Head Auror Joseph Brand. “She smashed her shoulder, and she’s been taking large amounts of the potion. It’s affected her brain. She’s also received a lot of stress in a short amount of time. She’s not herself. And besides, she’s under the impression that Malfoy was trying to kill her first.”
Auror Brand nodded impatiently, jotting down a few notes. Celebrity cases. He hated them. He had better things to do, such as worry about the Russian Wizarding Mafia, whose activities were getting more suspicious every day. Celebrity cases, on the other hand, were rarely anything more than spite caused by jealousy leading to a crime, and were rather simple cases by nature, but the Ministry just had to have the Head Auror look into every case involving celebrities – including potion-addled Quidditch stars wielding blunt axes. The only thing that made this case even remotely interesting was the involvement of Draco Malfoy, who wasn’t dead, meaning that Harry Potter was due for a serious meeting with the Board of Aurors. Knowing Potter, he would probably get off with nothing more than a suspension, maybe a few months at the most. Celebrity Aurors. He hated them.
Hermione, another celebrity Auror, was biting her lip, engaged in an internal debate with herself.
Ginny is – well, she’s Ginny. She’s not a murderer, and you know it, Hermione.
Hermione Jane Granger-Potter! Are you letting your personal feelings affect your job? Weasley is a threat to society! You can’t let innocent victims die because you’re too soft to condemn your own friend!
But Ginny isn’t a threat to society! Analyzing her current situations, especially the pain-relief potion, it is safe to say that under Code 9124 of Magical Law and Reinforcement, Ginny should not be convicted of attempted murder because she didn’t know that she was trying to attempt murder.
Listen, Potter. Weasley said, “Die, Malfoy, die!” while swinging the axe in his face. If that doesn’t indicate that she was trying to kill him, what does?
She’s always hated Malfoy –
You’ve always hated Malfoy. Do you go around swinging blunt axes at him?
Well, no, but –
No buts, Potter! Are you an Auror or not?
But she wasn’t sane at the moment! A therapy or two at St. Mungo’s Psychiatric Ward –
Should have taken place last year, when she tried to beat Joscelind Wadcock to death with a broomstick!
No! She didn’t! That was you and your paranoia. It was quite embarrassing too, how everyone looked at me like I lost my mind, or something.
You’re getting soft, Potter. I’m disappointed in myself.
But Hermione –
Didn’t I say ‘no buts’? It doesn’t matter who the guilty party is! It doesn’t matter if it’s Harry –
HARRY WILL NEVER BE THE GUILTY PARTY!
Okay, all right. Just – just keep your hair on. Merlin. So, it doesn’t matter if Professor McGonagall – is that better?
A bit.
Great. It doesn’t matter if Professor McGonagall is the guilty party. You are an Auror, and it’s your job to keep the world safe from raving lunatics and potential axe-murderers! If it isn’t for people like you, who would keep the children safe at night? If all the Aurors let their criminal friends get away, would anyone be safe in our world? It’s up to you to make a difference, Hermione Potter! Only you – and Harry – can save the world!
What a beautiful speech. I should have been a novelist; I’d move people to tears.
Oh, shut up, Potter. Now get out there and save the world! Got it?
“Got it!”
Auror Brand raised a graying eyebrow. “Got what, Potter?”
“Ginny Weasley should be taken in for standard-procedure criminal interrogating,” Hermione said firmly, her eyes sparkling with some sort of noble, heroic emotion.
“Hermione!” Oliver said in shock.
Hermione’s eyes were blazing with what could only be described as justice. “And Oliver Wood, too. It is highly possible that he was Weasley’s accomplice in numerous crimes!”
“What numerous crimes? Stealing Quaffles from the opposite team’s players?”
“Is that a confession, Mr. Wood?”
Auror Brand rolled his eyes and sighed. “Just go in for the interrogation, Mr. Wood. It’ll get Auror Potter off your back, and make the rest of your life much more enjoyable. Just pretend it’s an interview. I’ll get my secretary to fetch you a nice cup of tea and some blueberry scones.”
---
“Well,” said Oliver gruffly, after more than three hours of ridiculous, nonstop questioning. “That went well.” The sun was already beginning to rise, sending rays of soft gold light shining through the cracks in the blinds. He was late for practice. He couldn’t believe it! He, Oliver Wood, the Captain of the Puddlemere United team, was late for practice!
Ginny, who was given a pain-relief charm instead of a potion, was back to her senses, blushing furiously, and refusing to meet Draco’s gaze.
Draco, who had been this close to having his beautiful face slashed into halves, was glaring daggers at Ginny, enraged beyond words.
Hermione looked sheepish, and quietly looked over a case file regarding a flock of mad pigeons attacking Muggles in Suffolk.
Harry was currently being reprimanded for lying to the Board about Draco Malfoy’s death.
The Potters’ office reflected its inhabitants. Hermione’s side of the room was impeccably clean – so clean that it was almost sterile, and visitors almost never went to her side, out of fear of somehow tainting her space. Even now, Ginny, Oliver, and even Draco, who believed that cleanliness was a virtue, were sitting in chairs on Harry’s half of the room, which was much more welcoming. While Hermione’s desk was free of anything except for her desk lamp, a quill and ink pot, a small bowl of paper clips, and a framed photo of the Trio (which was measured with a ruler to be exactly three inches away from the edge of the desk), Harry’s was covered with various odds and ends. Not having color-coded folders to go with his equally nonexistent color-coded filing cabinet, Harry’s desk was covered with a dangerously high stack of case files, all out of order. In addition to that were several inky quills, old owl post, a bowl of lemon drops infested with ants, random pieces of parchment, a broken paperweight, too many picture frames to count, and hidden underneath an ancient case file was what looked suspiciously like a slice of cake from Ginny’s twenty-fourth birthday party – which took place more than a month ago.
There was complete silence in the room, except for the occasional rustle of papers as Hermione reviewed the details of the mad pigeons. Hermione wasn’t really reading the case file, of course. She was trying to figure out how to apologize for her paranoia. She had tried to incarcerate two old friends on the premises of attempting to murder an old enemy. What was wrong with her? It was the blasted war. There was no other explanation for how her usually trusting self had suddenly begun to think of everyone as potential criminals and traitors.
Just as Hermione was about to make a speech on the hardships of war affecting the human psyche, the door squeaked open – Hermione cringed. That door was going to be oiled the old-fashioned Muggle way immediately, as soon as her guests left – and Harry trudged in. “Almost lost my job,” he muttered, then looked apologetically at Hermione. “I’m on suspension for the rest of the year. They’ll send you a replacement partner – I heard it was a kid fresh out of Auror training,” he said disdainfully.
Hermione nodded morosely. She hated rookies. They were all full of brash impulse, and had no meticulous strategies or cunning plans – except the Slytherins, but she didn’t like them either. “It’s all right, Harry. I’m just so glad they didn’t fire you.” Harry gave her the ‘I am Harry Potter, Savior of the world, and nobody fires me’ wink. Hermione smiled, but the smile faded away as she turned to the rest of the people in her office. “Er, about me trying to accuse you…” She trailed away.
“She didn’t mean it. She was just way into her job,” Harry finished.
“I didn’t mean it either!” Ginny chimed in. “I was tired, and stressed, and scared, and confused, and had too much potion, and – and, ImsorryItriedtokillyouMalfoy.”
“What was that?” Draco snapped. “I don’t think I quite heard you, with you talking to the floor and all.”
“I’m sorry I tried to kill you.”
“Mmhmm. And?”
“And I’m sorry for thinking that you tried to kill me, when I saw quite clearly that you never brought an axe with you.”
“Mmhmm. And?”
“And you’re sorry for barging into my flat like that. You will pay for the food you ate, and leave as soon as possible.”
“Mmhmm – what? No, Weasley! For attempting to kick my bucket for me, I think you owe me a year’s worth of free food and lodging. After all, a Malfoy’s life is quite pricey.”
“Malfoy, you are making unreasonable demands!” Hermione declared, the fire back in her eyes. “You are dangerously close to being guilty of attempting to blackmail –”
“About the axe!” Harry cut in. “Ginny, it is highly possible that there is honestly and truly someone out to murder you. My team of Aurors haven’t been able to find any more evidence, but we advise you to take special care. If you want, I can find you a bodyguard, or even an Auror to –”
“Thanks for the concern, Harry, but I don’t need to be protected. I have a wand, and I have the dueling skills. I just want him out of my flat!”
“Oh, what a great way to show your remorse for trying to murder an innocent bystander, eh?”
“Actually, Ginny,” Harry began, looking rather uncomfortable with himself, “I think it might be better to have him around. Either that, or you go back to the Burrow.”
“I don’t want to endanger my family,” Ginny said shortly. “And you must be out of your mind to suggest that I live with Malfoy, of all people. I’d rather move in with Oliver.”
Oliver’s eyes lit up. “Really? That’ll be great! We can practice Quidditch all day and all night!”
“Er…” Did I really say that? I meant it as a figure of speech… Ginny was already feeling confused enough about her Quidditch Captain and best friend, and didn’t think it would be wise to actually live with him.
“And where, exactly, will I go?” Draco said sourly. “It was Aunt Andromeda’s death wish for a Weasley to help me out! You can never ignore a death wish!”
“A Weasley, Malfoy. Not Ginny Weasley, specifically,” Ginny pointed out, but without much enthusiasm. Maybe, if Malfoy lived with me, Oliver might get jeal – Ginny Weasley! Perish the thought!
“I thought I already explained my logic on why you were the Weasley, Weasley.”
“All right, everyone settle down!” Harry said in his authoritative voice. “Ginny, I really feel bad about leaving you alone. I’d like it best if you accepted help from the Aurors.”
“No.”
“Then return to the Burrow, where Fred and George can keep an eye on you. If not, staying with Oliver doesn’t seem like a bad idea, since you’re on the same team, and have the same schedule.”
“And I’m chopped, seasoned, and sautéed liver, am I?”
“Or you can uphold Andromeda’s death wish,” Harry mumbled grudgingly.
Ginny scowled, stubbornly glaring at Harry, who stubbornly met her gaze. It was green against brown, and it looked like Ginny was winning, until she broke away and said, “I don’t want to move. It’s too much hassle.”
“Ah. So my dear Auntie gets her death wish,” Draco said smugly.
“Shut it, Malfoy. Go live with my Mum. She’ll take one look at you, you’ll break her heart with how thin you are, and she’ll feed you until you burst.”
“What nonsense. Malfoys do not gain unsightly weight. Potter, I will be happy to keep your loser-worshiping sidekick’s little sister safe from vicious axe-murderers.”
“Can we just use her name?” Harry asked glumly. He still felt sorry to Ron. Though it was Ron who had ended things with Hermione – causing her to cry on Harry’s shoulder, causing Harry to feel not-so-platonic feelings for his sobbing best friend – he still felt a bit guilty about marrying Hermione. The Trio’s friendship had never quite been the same after that, though Ron pretended that nothing was wrong (except when sticking pins into his cornhusk doll named Parry Hotter).
“It’s settled then,” Draco declared with an air of finality. “Come on, Weasley, let’s go home. I’m bloody tired.”
Ginny looked like she was going to be sick.
---
In Ottery St. Catchpole, London, and Hogwarts, several flame-haired gentlemen jumped out of their seats in panic as they read the morning’s Daily Prophet. This edition was so full of sensationally shocking news that the editors had left out both the comics (to Fred, George, and Ron’s dismay) and the weather (to Percy’s dismay).
The first article was shocking to all of the Weasley brothers except Ron, who, along with Hermione, had known of the secret.
BREAKING NEWS
The Return of the Heir
By Lavender Brown
Draco Black Malfoy, Heir to the confiscated Malfoy fortunes, has returned from the dead as a Chaser for Puddlemere United. He shocked the Puddlemere team with his unannounced arrival, and shocked them even more when he displayed his Quidditch skills.
The young Malfoy had always shown a talent for the sport, rivaling none other than Harry Potter during their days at Hogwarts. Malfoy has played Seeker for five years at Hogwarts, but after his mysterious disappearance (more on that later), he now makes his big comeback as an excellent Chaser. “He made eight out of ten goals against Keeper Oliver Wood. That’s something only Joscelind Wadcock could ever do,” said Philbert Deverill, the Puddlemere Coach, cleverly complimenting three of his players with only one comment.
Many of you are probably wondering how the former Death Eater is alive, when Harry Potter told the world that he had killed Draco Malfoy. The truth is, Harry Potter lied. Now, before you go throwing rocks at the Man-Who-Lied, please remember that he is not only a skilled Auror who can hex you into a toadstool for throwing rocks at him, but is also the Savior of our world.
The real truth behind Malfoy was revealed to us, here at the Daily Prophet, by none other than Draco Malfoy himself, as well as Harry Potter. According to the two former enemies, the desperate pleading of Andromeda Tonks nee Black is what saved the young Malfoy’s life. Tonks had lost her Muggle husband, Auror daughter, and both of her Death Eater sisters during the war, and wanted to spare her last living relative. Potter granted her this wish, and claimed that Malfoy was dead to spare him from the harassing of reporters and Aurors. We reporters personally feel offense to that, because we do not harass anyone, but that is another story.
Another startling fact that was kept hidden from the public is that Malfoy’s memory has been modified. Extracting the memory of a resisting Occlumens can be very dangerous for said Occlumens, so please do not try this at home. After capturing Malfoy, who had turned against the Order to work for the Death Eaters once more, Potter indelicately attempted to retrieve Malfoy’s memories for Ministry purposes. As a result, the then-eighteen-year-old Malfoy was left with only the first thirteen-and-a-half years of his memories. In other words, he has no recollection of the war. This is good, not only for Malfoy’s mental health, but for ours too.
From the moment he lost his memory to the present, Malfoy has lived in an isolated Swiss wizarding village under the care of Andromeda Tonks. He is no longer the dangerous Death Eater Malfoy who has haunted our dreams. He is no more dangerous than a sarcastic thirteen-year-old goat herder. (Malfoy has apparently lived with goats in his backyard while in Switzerland.) Even though Malfoy is back, the Aurors (all of them, not just the Auror-Who-Fibbed) guarantee us that we can all sleep safely at night, except for those of us who have a chronic fear of thirteen-year-old goat herders.
The second article was much more disturbing.
The Chaser of Chasers
By Lavender Brown
Puddlemere United’s star Chaser, Ginny Weasley, is being chased by an unknown axe-murderer.
Her flat was raided early this morning by the Potters’ team of Aurors. A certain Daily Prophet reporter had been tipped off by her boyfriend that Draco Malfoy was back and stalking Ginny Weasley. When this reporter tipped off the Aurors, the Aurors invaded Weasley’s flat, only to find that Malfoy had only been after Weasley for a bowl of soup. What they found instead was the mysterious axe, which has been confirmed to not belong to Malfoy.
Auror Harry Potter had once stopped a Puddlemere game because he suspected an axe-murderer was after Weasley (described in detail in the May 22 edition of the Daily Prophet). No evidence was found, but now, after almost four months of inactivity, the axe-murderer is back and ready to strike.
Weasley, who is currently on Reserve for her shoulder injury (described in detail in last Monday’s edition of the Daily Prophet – though we reporters are now beginning to wonder if those Bludgers had been charmed by the suspect), was shocked to find the axe under her couch. “It’s not mine,” she claimed in horror. Draco Malfoy has claimed that it was not his, either.
Aurors are currently running experiments on the axe.
Weasley and Malfoy have returned to Weasley’s flat – together. They have apparently started living together, making us, here at the Daily Prophet, wonder if there was – or is, or will be – something between the two young Chasers. With one being a Malfoy and the other being a Weasley, we reporters are waiting with bated breaths to see if a dramatic, forbidden romance will play out between the two.
There was more to the article – the part of how Ginny had mistaken Malfoy for the axe-murderer, and had tried to murder him – but at this point, all the Weasley brothers were out of their seats, and heading for Ginny’s. Only George stayed behind long enough to burn the paper before his mum saw it and had a heart attack.
---
It was strange, coming home with a companion. Ever since she joined Puddlemere, Ginny had lived alone in her flat. And now, the vilest person to disgrace the Earth with his presence was present in her home.
“Old Wood didn’t seem to be too happy about us skipping practice.”
“He’s just saying that. We’re in no condition to do anything.”
“Too true.”
They stood at the doorway for a moment, awkwardly looking at each other, wondering what to do next.
“Well then, good night.”
Draco Malfoy was saying a greeting – an actually pleasant greeting – to her. “You mean good morning,” Ginny blurted.
“Whatever. Pleasant dreams,” he said, then walked off towards the couch.
“You too,” Ginny replied, feeling like there was something very wrong with the world if Draco Malfoy was wishing her – or anyone else, for that matter – pleasant dreams. Of course, his idea of a pleasant dream probably involved insulting other people and hexing them into unrecognizable blobs of goo, but it was still the thought that counted – right?
Shaking her head at the bizarreness of it all, especially the part where she, for some unfathomable reason, didn’t shove Draco out the door, Ginny dragged her exhausted feet to her bedroom. After a ridiculous night of Malfoys, axes, and interrogations, Ginny wanted nothing more than to drown in the comfort of her bed. As soon as she settled down under her blissful covers, however, she found that her wish would not be granted.
“GINNY!” someone bellowed from the sitting room. It sounded like Percy.
“MALFOY?” another voice thundered. Ron.
“GINNY! MALFOY?” two voices. Undoubtedly Fred and George.
“No!” Ginny yelled, throwing herself out of bed, and ripping the door away from its frame. “No! Ginny Malfoy does not live here! Ginny Malfoy will never live here! In fact, Ginny Malfoy will never exist! So piss off!”
“No, Ginny, we will not piss off!” shouted Ron, using language that no Hogwarts Professor should. He shook the paper in his sister’s tired face. “What is the meaning of this?”
“Why is Malfoy in your flat?” Percy demanded, pointing hysterically at the blond man, who was laying down on Ginny’s couch as if nothing was wrong with the world. “I am in line to be the youngest Minister of Magic in centuries, and having my unmarried sister rooming with an unmarried man, especially a man who is a former Death Eater, is completely harmful to my name and image!”
“Well then,” Ginny spat, “should I go room with a married man? Maybe Harry, my good friend’s husband?”
Percy looked scandalized, as did her other brothers, especially Ron.
“Ginny!” Ron sounded almost desperate. “Why do you insist on living with Malfoy? Are you really in love with him?”
“Of course not!” Ginny raged. “If you want to know why I’m living with Malfoy, go ask Harry sodding Potter! Because he’s the one who set me up to this!” Blaming it all on Harry – definitely not the most responsible or moral thing to do, but she was so incredibly tired, her nerves were on edge, and putting up with her brothers wasn’t exactly what she wanted to do right now. Besides, he had suggested that she live with Draco – sort of, as a last resort.
“Harry?” the four redheaded men echoed.
“Yes, Harry,” sighed Ginny, too tired to scream. “He didn’t want me living alone because he thinks some axe-murderer is after me. And –” she continued, before any of her brothers could interrupt, “he didn’t want any of you being in danger either. So he made Malfoy come here, because his life is expendable.” Yes, she justified to herself, finally seeing the logic behind the madness. Malfoy is here for my safety, and his life really is expendable. We all thought he was dead anyway, right?
Malfoy huffed indignantly from his place on the couch.
“So that’s why I’m being forced to endure having that insufferable ferret live in my flat. I’m about as happy about it as you are – maybe less. I’ve been hounded by reporters and Aurors all night because of him. Can I please, please get some sleep now?”
Ginny sounded like a person ready to die, and her brothers, being the ever-understanding Weasleys, sympathized with her. “Of course, Ginny,” said George, patting her reassuringly on the shoulder. “We feel your pain. Sorry we barged in on you. We’ll leave.”
“And,” said Fred, “if he does anything – absolutely anything – to hurt you or bother you, you tell us.” He cracked his knuckles ominously, and Ginny thought she heard another snort from the couch.
“Er… Do try not to hurt my image. I’ll be Minister Weasley, not Minister Percy, so everything you do reflects on me.”
“Oh, you shouldn’t have said that, old Perce,” snickered Fred.
“You’re forgetting who else are Weasleys around here,” laughed George.
“Oh dear,” sighed Percy.
“Come now, dear brother. The future Minister needs escorting to his office.”
“Or to a dark corner of Knockturn Alley.”
“Or to the middle of a jungle in Brazil.”
“Or to an uninhabited island in the Pacific.”
The twins sniggered and Disapparated, towing their bespectacled brother along with them.
Ron lingered behind. “Be careful, Ginny,” he said, shooting a withering look at Draco, which was rather pointless, since the other man’s eyes were closed. “If he tries anything – looks at you the wrong way or says something disrespectful – I’ll kill him, and use him to teach my Defense class about Inferi,” Ron said darkly.
Ginny smiled weakly. “Thanks, Ron. He won’t do anything. Harry’ll make sure of it.”
“Harry,” he scoffed. “Right then. Bye, Gin.”
“Bye, Ron.”
He nodded grimly, threw Floo powder into the fireplace, and disappeared in a rush of emerald green flames and a shouted, “Hogwarts!”
“That was a lovely visit,” Draco murmured sleepily.
“Sod off, Malfoy.”
Ginny received no response. She looked over to the couch and saw Draco, peacefully asleep, looking for all the world like an innocent teenager. How deceiving looks could be.
---
To be continued…
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