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Chapter 1: Recipe for a Genie
“Over my dead body!” The group gathered around the table situated in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place collectively winced, as the angry male voice grew closer.
“Ron, she’s the only one available right now,” a more feminine voice could be heard reasoning.
“And she’s not a little girl anymore, Ron, she-”
“She what!” The other masculine voice was abruptly cut off, as the door slammed open with a bang, admitting one visibly upset Weasley and his two best friends.
“She’s very capable of this job, thank you very much,” Ginny Weasley stated calmly as she stood up to face her brother.
“No, you’re not,” Ron blustered. Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom gasped. Harry Potter and Hermione Granger rolled their eyes. Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks chuckled softly. Albus Dumbledore merely continued to knit what looked suspiciously like a canary-yellow sock.
Ginny narrowed her eyes, studying the brother who was currently flushed an unseemly tomato-red. “Careful, Ron,” she said. “You wouldn’t want to push me to do anything reckless, would you?”
“Reckless?” Ron asked loudly, sounding disbelieving. “As though what you’re about to do isn’t reckless enough?” He turned to face Dumbledore, who seemed to be focused very intently on redoing a few stitches. “Professor, couldn’t you do anything?”
Dumbledore smiled serenely. “I do believe, Mr. Weasley,” he began, peering over his spectacles, never ceasing his knitting, “that both Ms. Granger and Mr. Potter are correct. Not only is Ms. Weasley the only Order member available for this task at the moment, but I don’t doubt that she is more than capable of performing splendidly.”
Ginny beamed at Dumbledore, then stuck her tongue out at Ron. Ron spluttered. “Ron, for God’s sake, I’m nineteen,” Ginny said, exasperated. Everyone else silently jostled each other as they fought to escape the kitchen, not too keen on getting in the way of the sibling “discussion” that was sure to come.
“A Galleon says Ron loses this one spectacularly,” Neville whispered to Luna on the way out.
Luna snorted. “I believe in Nargles, Nev, not Ron’s powers of reasoning,” she whispered back.
“But you’re my sister!” Back in the kitchen, Ron held on to his stubbornness.
“Oh Ronald, I love you, too,” Ginny sighed. Seeing the morose look that crossed her brother’s face, she bit back a laugh and motioned for him to sit down opposite her.
“Look, Ron,” she continued, patting his hand. “You can’t stop me from going. Even Mum and Dad have accepted that I need to do this. I’m a grown woman now-”
Here Ron opened his mouth, raising an objective finger into the air.
“No, Ron,” Ginny laughed, “I am. I’m a member of the Order just as much as you are, and I have every right to fight in this war, as well.”
Ron stared down at the scratched surface of the table, tracing a crack in the wood with his finger. “Why can’t Luna go?” he mumbled.
Ginny sighed. “Luna’s busy with the Quibbler, you know that.”
Ron slumped down in his chair. “What about Neville?”
“He’s working on some new antidotes.”
“Tonks?” Here Ron looked up hopefully.
Ginny just stared in a stern sort of way. Ron briefly panicked, thinking for a split-second that it was Professor McGonagall he was seated across. Ginny stared some more.
“Right.” He quickly deflated.
“It’ll be okay, Won-Won,” Ginny assured her brother with an indulgent smile. Ron finally laughed, taking a half-hearted swipe at his sister. “What’s the worst that could possibly happen?”
Ginny Weasley paused, turning her head to check behind her for what seemed like the millionth time in the past hour. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary (Unless you count that bronze life-sized statue of a male lemur wearing a tutu, she snickered to herself), she moved further into the enormous study. Forty-eight hours had passed since Ron had exploded in anger upon hearing that his baby sister was going to be the one to infiltrate Malfoy Manor in order to steal what the Order was sure would be blueprints of Lord Voldemort’s new and expansive stronghold in Albania. The Order had been keeping an eye out for the blueprints for more than three months now, knowing that Lucius Malfoy kept some of Voldemort’s papers secure somewhere in his usually impenetrable residence. Upon hearing that Voldemort had recently summoned Malfoy and his family to a meeting being held outside of the country, the Order had pounced. Because of Severus Snape, they knew enough about the many and varied spells that protected the Malfoy residence to formulate a plan for breaking and entering. Thus, the job for Ginny was easy enough: Take advantage of an empty house, steal some important documents, and get the hell out.
Ginny whirled around. Was that-? She shook her head furiously. I could have sworn I heard a swish, she thought, staring hard into the darkness that currently blanketed the Malfoy study. Annoyed with herself for letting her nerves get to her, she turned back to searching the many drawers of the large desk situated in the middle of the room. The desk was a rather fine thing, bearing clean, masculine lines hewn out of a gorgeous, rich mahogany. Ginny was quite jealous of the study itself, as floor-to-ceiling shelves covered every inch of the walls, housing innumerable leather-bound volumes labelled with glittering gold script. The plush wine-red carpeting muffled her footsteps as she turned to consider a tall, ebony cabinet that stood quietly in a corner.
Lucius Malfoy silently observed the redhead from underneath his invisibility cloak. He had cursed himself upon realizing halfway to meeting Lord Voldemort that he had forgotten a number of papers that the Dark Lord had explicitly stated he wished to see; Ordering Narcissa and Draco to continue on without him, he had returned to Malfoy Manor alone, not expecting to see a Weasley, of all people, traipsing through his home. He smiled thinly and began to inch closer as the young woman reached her hand out to open the door to the ancient cabinet.
Ginny had been frustrated when she hadn’t found the papers she needed anywhere else in the Manor. The Manor may have been huge, but Ginny was nothing if not methodical (not to mention determined), and she had ventured into every dark corner and checked behind every portrait of a sneering, aristocratic albino – and still nothing. The shiny, dark cabinet that currently towered over her was the only possible place left. Heart pounding, she reached a slightly trembling hand out. Frowning, she pulled her hand back and shook it out wildly, trying to get rid of those damned nerves. Come on, Weasley, she scolded herself. You can be out of here in two minutes, if only you’d get a move on.
Flipping the latch, Ginny pulled the cabinet door open, wand raised in front of her face, half expecting something large and hideous to lunge out at her. Nothing happened. Ginny’s lungs thanked her profusely as she finally let out the breath she didn’t know she’d been holding the entire time. Surveying the shelves inside the cabinet, she smiled slightly. To the left were a number of rolls of parchment tied with bits of silk cord. On the bottom was a sheaf of larger pieces of parchment; unfurling these, Ginny felt a surge of triumph sweep through her when she read the word “Blueprint” on one. That’ll show Ron, she snorted to herself. Stepping back from the cabinet, Ginny moved to shut the door. A slight twinkle caught her eye, buried in the dark depths of the cabinet. Hesitating, she moved forth once more. Moving some books aside, she reached to the back of a shelf and pulled out a large green bottle. Ginny stared at it. The bottle was a lovely work of craftsmanship, spun out of a delicate, opaque glass. There was some sort of weird and ornate design etched onto the surface of the bottle in silver, and it glinted as Ginny turned it first this way, now that.
Suddenly, a flurry of noise erupted, interrupting the pervasive stillness of the manor. The swish of a cloak being ripped off; the shuffling of parchment being dropped; a yelled curse; a blow to the back of a head; a hissed incantation; the slam of a door being shut; the click of a latch being locked.
Breathing heavily, Lucius picked up the fallen blueprints, ignoring the blood streaming from a long and nasty-looking gash on his right arm. Sneering one last time at the old cabinet, he turned sharply on his heel as he swept his cloak back on and strode swiftly from the study. The large, heavy doors swung shut silently. Silence reigned once more.
“Over my dead body!” The group gathered around the table situated in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place collectively winced, as the angry male voice grew closer.
“Ron, she’s the only one available right now,” a more feminine voice could be heard reasoning.
“And she’s not a little girl anymore, Ron, she-”
“She what!” The other masculine voice was abruptly cut off, as the door slammed open with a bang, admitting one visibly upset Weasley and his two best friends.
“She’s very capable of this job, thank you very much,” Ginny Weasley stated calmly as she stood up to face her brother.
“No, you’re not,” Ron blustered. Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom gasped. Harry Potter and Hermione Granger rolled their eyes. Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks chuckled softly. Albus Dumbledore merely continued to knit what looked suspiciously like a canary-yellow sock.
Ginny narrowed her eyes, studying the brother who was currently flushed an unseemly tomato-red. “Careful, Ron,” she said. “You wouldn’t want to push me to do anything reckless, would you?”
“Reckless?” Ron asked loudly, sounding disbelieving. “As though what you’re about to do isn’t reckless enough?” He turned to face Dumbledore, who seemed to be focused very intently on redoing a few stitches. “Professor, couldn’t you do anything?”
Dumbledore smiled serenely. “I do believe, Mr. Weasley,” he began, peering over his spectacles, never ceasing his knitting, “that both Ms. Granger and Mr. Potter are correct. Not only is Ms. Weasley the only Order member available for this task at the moment, but I don’t doubt that she is more than capable of performing splendidly.”
Ginny beamed at Dumbledore, then stuck her tongue out at Ron. Ron spluttered. “Ron, for God’s sake, I’m nineteen,” Ginny said, exasperated. Everyone else silently jostled each other as they fought to escape the kitchen, not too keen on getting in the way of the sibling “discussion” that was sure to come.
“A Galleon says Ron loses this one spectacularly,” Neville whispered to Luna on the way out.
Luna snorted. “I believe in Nargles, Nev, not Ron’s powers of reasoning,” she whispered back.
“But you’re my sister!” Back in the kitchen, Ron held on to his stubbornness.
“Oh Ronald, I love you, too,” Ginny sighed. Seeing the morose look that crossed her brother’s face, she bit back a laugh and motioned for him to sit down opposite her.
“Look, Ron,” she continued, patting his hand. “You can’t stop me from going. Even Mum and Dad have accepted that I need to do this. I’m a grown woman now-”
Here Ron opened his mouth, raising an objective finger into the air.
“No, Ron,” Ginny laughed, “I am. I’m a member of the Order just as much as you are, and I have every right to fight in this war, as well.”
Ron stared down at the scratched surface of the table, tracing a crack in the wood with his finger. “Why can’t Luna go?” he mumbled.
Ginny sighed. “Luna’s busy with the Quibbler, you know that.”
Ron slumped down in his chair. “What about Neville?”
“He’s working on some new antidotes.”
“Tonks?” Here Ron looked up hopefully.
Ginny just stared in a stern sort of way. Ron briefly panicked, thinking for a split-second that it was Professor McGonagall he was seated across. Ginny stared some more.
“Right.” He quickly deflated.
“It’ll be okay, Won-Won,” Ginny assured her brother with an indulgent smile. Ron finally laughed, taking a half-hearted swipe at his sister. “What’s the worst that could possibly happen?”
Ginny Weasley paused, turning her head to check behind her for what seemed like the millionth time in the past hour. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary (Unless you count that bronze life-sized statue of a male lemur wearing a tutu, she snickered to herself), she moved further into the enormous study. Forty-eight hours had passed since Ron had exploded in anger upon hearing that his baby sister was going to be the one to infiltrate Malfoy Manor in order to steal what the Order was sure would be blueprints of Lord Voldemort’s new and expansive stronghold in Albania. The Order had been keeping an eye out for the blueprints for more than three months now, knowing that Lucius Malfoy kept some of Voldemort’s papers secure somewhere in his usually impenetrable residence. Upon hearing that Voldemort had recently summoned Malfoy and his family to a meeting being held outside of the country, the Order had pounced. Because of Severus Snape, they knew enough about the many and varied spells that protected the Malfoy residence to formulate a plan for breaking and entering. Thus, the job for Ginny was easy enough: Take advantage of an empty house, steal some important documents, and get the hell out.
Ginny whirled around. Was that-? She shook her head furiously. I could have sworn I heard a swish, she thought, staring hard into the darkness that currently blanketed the Malfoy study. Annoyed with herself for letting her nerves get to her, she turned back to searching the many drawers of the large desk situated in the middle of the room. The desk was a rather fine thing, bearing clean, masculine lines hewn out of a gorgeous, rich mahogany. Ginny was quite jealous of the study itself, as floor-to-ceiling shelves covered every inch of the walls, housing innumerable leather-bound volumes labelled with glittering gold script. The plush wine-red carpeting muffled her footsteps as she turned to consider a tall, ebony cabinet that stood quietly in a corner.
Lucius Malfoy silently observed the redhead from underneath his invisibility cloak. He had cursed himself upon realizing halfway to meeting Lord Voldemort that he had forgotten a number of papers that the Dark Lord had explicitly stated he wished to see; Ordering Narcissa and Draco to continue on without him, he had returned to Malfoy Manor alone, not expecting to see a Weasley, of all people, traipsing through his home. He smiled thinly and began to inch closer as the young woman reached her hand out to open the door to the ancient cabinet.
Ginny had been frustrated when she hadn’t found the papers she needed anywhere else in the Manor. The Manor may have been huge, but Ginny was nothing if not methodical (not to mention determined), and she had ventured into every dark corner and checked behind every portrait of a sneering, aristocratic albino – and still nothing. The shiny, dark cabinet that currently towered over her was the only possible place left. Heart pounding, she reached a slightly trembling hand out. Frowning, she pulled her hand back and shook it out wildly, trying to get rid of those damned nerves. Come on, Weasley, she scolded herself. You can be out of here in two minutes, if only you’d get a move on.
Flipping the latch, Ginny pulled the cabinet door open, wand raised in front of her face, half expecting something large and hideous to lunge out at her. Nothing happened. Ginny’s lungs thanked her profusely as she finally let out the breath she didn’t know she’d been holding the entire time. Surveying the shelves inside the cabinet, she smiled slightly. To the left were a number of rolls of parchment tied with bits of silk cord. On the bottom was a sheaf of larger pieces of parchment; unfurling these, Ginny felt a surge of triumph sweep through her when she read the word “Blueprint” on one. That’ll show Ron, she snorted to herself. Stepping back from the cabinet, Ginny moved to shut the door. A slight twinkle caught her eye, buried in the dark depths of the cabinet. Hesitating, she moved forth once more. Moving some books aside, she reached to the back of a shelf and pulled out a large green bottle. Ginny stared at it. The bottle was a lovely work of craftsmanship, spun out of a delicate, opaque glass. There was some sort of weird and ornate design etched onto the surface of the bottle in silver, and it glinted as Ginny turned it first this way, now that.
Suddenly, a flurry of noise erupted, interrupting the pervasive stillness of the manor. The swish of a cloak being ripped off; the shuffling of parchment being dropped; a yelled curse; a blow to the back of a head; a hissed incantation; the slam of a door being shut; the click of a latch being locked.
Breathing heavily, Lucius picked up the fallen blueprints, ignoring the blood streaming from a long and nasty-looking gash on his right arm. Sneering one last time at the old cabinet, he turned sharply on his heel as he swept his cloak back on and strode swiftly from the study. The large, heavy doors swung shut silently. Silence reigned once more.
Author notes: Please review! :)
To Be Continued.
turkish is the author of 5 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 7 members. Members who liked I Dream of Ginny also liked 478 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 7 members. Members who liked I Dream of Ginny also liked 478 other stories.
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