In Which Ginny Weasley Plays the Headmaster
“Come in,” Albus called, brow furrowed in confusion. His gargoyle hadn’t alerted him to a visitor, and he was a bit nonplussed at the unexpected company. His face morphed into a smile, however, as he saw who his visitor was. “Please have a seat, Miss Weasley,” the headmaster said almost eagerly. Once seated, he continued. “What may I do for you today, my dear?”
“It’s not fair,” she whined in a high-pitched voice, making the old man wince at the strident tone. “Harry’s always surrounded by girls with loads of money to afford being able to look smashing. I can’t even get a decent dress. How am I supposed to charm and woo Harry if I look like this?” She gestured to herself with a moue of disgust.
“Now, my dear, money isn’t everything,” the old man tried to soothe, realizing from the start that he was way out of his league in this. “I’m sure that your charms and sparkling personality will attract Harry’s eye. Just keep trying; I’m sure that you’ll achieve success eventually.”
“I can’t wait that long,” she barked incredulously. “I’ve been near him since his second year, and he still hasn’t taken any notice of me.”
“Have you tried an amortentia potion, my dear?” Albus asked, eyes calculating.
“No!” she gasped, highly affronted. “Why would I resort to artificial means to gain his love? What would happen if he suddenly stopped taking them, or if he developed an immunity to them? I’d lose him forever if that happened. I can’t risk that. I’ll die without him. I’ll just die!”
“Now, now, my dear,” Albus tried to placate the distraught teen, “surely it couldn’t be that bad.”
“He’s my soul mate, professor,” Ginny barked harshly. “I did the correct ritual, and he’s mine. If he rejects me, at any time, I will die.”
“We can’t have that,” the headmaster murmured softly, eyes distant in thought. “We need to make sure he’s tied to you and your family irrevocably.” The old man was silent for several moments, before his eyes lit up. “I will fund your attempts to court Mr. Potter,” he said with a gleeful smile. “This way we can ensure that you’d be irresistible to the young man. I have a never-ending money pouch linked to my vaults.” He flicked his wand and summoned the sack, handing it over to the girl carefully. “Now remember, that money is to be used only for your seduction of Harry.”
“Thank you so much, Headmaster!” Ginny gasped as she quickly tucked the pouch into her robe pocket. The smirk she wore on her face was decidedly sinister, but Albus’ mind was too full of his future manipulations, through the girl, to pay much attention. Weasley bounced from her chair and happily skipped out the door and down the staircase. Once outside the gargoyle, she let loose with cackles so evil that they’d put Voldemort to shame.
“May I speak with Ragnok?” the redheaded girl asked softly later that day. She was at Gringott’s to set up her plans for Albus Dumbledore’s money. Griphook led the young lady to the chief accounts goblin’s office, bowing his head as he let her in. She stood in front of the ancient being’s desk until she was acknowledged, as she was taught by her mother. Ragnok raised his eyes and snorted softly, nodding his permission for her to sit. She lowered herself into the chair with a bow of her head, then remained silent until the goblin finished his work.
“How may I help you, Miss Weasley?” he finally said as he slid the folder to the corner of his massive desk. The smirk on the young girl’s face startled the being for a moment, but what she said next had him falling out of his chair with helpless laughter.
“I was given a never-ending money pouch by Albus Dumbledore,” she told him with a smirk. “I would like to set it up so that it links directly with Lord Voldemort’s vaults, and so that money would be automatically taken from the headmaster’s vaults and placed into Tom’s.” She sat and watched, bemused, as the goblin rolled on the floor, arms clasped around his aching belly as his laughter continued, unabated. Griphook came into the office moments later and handed his boss a calming draught, eyeing Ginny suspiciously as he waited for his leader to regain composure. Finally, Ragnok slowly rose from the floor and regained his seat, wiping away the tears of mirth that had run down his face. Nodding at Griphook, the junior accounts goblin left the office, giving Weasley an extra glare for good measure.
“How did you manage to charm the headmaster out of a never-ending money pouch?” he asked gruffly, still snorting and giggling softly.
“I told him that I was Harry Potter’s soul mate, and that, because my family is so poor I couldn’t compete with the other girls trying to gain his attentions. In order for the headmaster to maintain control of his puppet martyr, he offered me the pouch so that I could ‘keep him in the Light’.”
“You do know that your mother has reclaimed the Prewett dynasty, and all the wealth that comes with it,” Ragnok said softly, eyebrows high on his forehead in surprise at the actions of the supposedly ‘Light’ family.
“Of course,” she replied with a smile. “Mum and I are going shopping this weekend, so it’s not like I won’t have proof that I’m ‘spending the headmaster’s money wisely’. I just think it’s a bit of poetic justice that the headmaster help fund the war against him, as penitence for all he’d done to both Tom Riddle and Harry Potter.”
The following Monday, Ginny entered the Great Hall for breakfast wearing school robes made of acromantula silk. Underneath was a simple jade green dress with a flared skirt and black pumps. Her make-up was subtle and flawlessly applied, making her look like a goddess. All eyes turned to her, and a fair few young men’s perusal made her blush prettily. Theo’s eyes flared with heat for a millisecond before his Slytherin mask fell into place. She walked over to where her brother and friends were sitting, smiling at everyone as she took her place at the Gryffindor table.
“Wow, Ginny,” Harry said as he leaned forward, “you look gorgeous. What’s the special occasion?”
“We’ll discuss it at the manor this weekend,” she murmured softly, leaning toward the raven with intent. She forced herself to blush charmingly as she dropped her eyes coyly. Emerald eyes widened in shock, and Harry cleared his throat uncomfortably, a flush staining his cheeks. “That’s the perfect response for our audience,” she whispered as she gave him a coquettish grin. The raven’s eyes widened marginally as he caught the hint, and he sat back, picking up her hand to brush a kiss across her knuckles. Under the table, he sent a miniaturized Prongs surreptitiously to Theo, explaining what was going on so that the Slytherin wouldn’t become angry and blow everything. Looking up, Harry caught the barely-there nod from the dark-haired Slytherin and breathed a sigh of relief. That’s one crisis managed, at any rate.
Later that day, in Potions, Harry received a note from a house elf that had popped in during the theory part of class. Severus’ eyes narrowed slightly when he looked at the emerald-eyed boy, but a slight shake of his head reassured the Potions Master as he continued correcting essays. Harry leaned sideways and showed the note to Draco, then sent it to Ron. I have need to speak with you after lunch. The password is ton-tongued toffees. Albus Dumbledore.
“I wonder what the old fossil wants?” Draco muttered as everyone put their books and parchment away and prepared for the practical portion of class.
“I dunno,” Harry replied softly before he went to get the supplies for the next potion. “Maybe he wants to talk about Ginny.”
“Harry, my boy,” the old man trumpeted happily as Harry entered his office. “Please have a seat. Tea? Lemon drop?”
“No thank you, sir,” the teen replied sullenly. Albus frowned at the attitude he was receiving and leaned forward, forearms braced on the edge of his desk and fingers laced together in front of him.
“Really, Harry,” Albus chided gently, “that attitude of yours needs correcting. You have a beautiful young girl vying for your attentions, your classes are going well, and your extra training is giving you a better insight into the monster you must eventually face. There’s no reason for your morose demeanor.”
“I’m just tired, sir,” Harry mumbled, eyes on his hands. He clenched his teeth to prevent any vitriol from escaping his mouth, knowing that should he express how he truly felt, all would be lost. However, he was hard-pressed at times to contain the jubilation within him at the knowledge that the headmaster’s end was fast approaching.
“I understand, my boy,” the headmaster commiserated insincerely. “However, you should use the opportunities you have with Miss Weasley to relax and let go of your worries. You’re only young once. By the way, how are things faring between you and young Ginevra?”
“Fine, headmaster,” Harry replied with forced cheer. “She and I are going to Madam Puddifoot’s next Hogsmeade weekend. I think Neville and Luna are joining us, as well as Ron and Lavender.”
“That is good news. With all of those eyes watching you, I don’t feel you need the protection of the Order at this time. However, should you or any of your friends notice anything unusual, do not hesitate to send me a patronus. That will be all, my boy.”
“All right,” Harry barked as soon as everyone had arrived at the manor for the weekend. They were all ensconced in Tom’s study, enjoying tea and cakes courtesy of the house elves. “What the blazing hell is going on with you, Ginny?”
“What seems to be the problem, Harry?” Tom asked, eyes narrowed.
“She’s been flirting with me all week,” the raven complained. “Hanging all over me and rubbing herself against me. It’s appalling. I can see doing that in front of certain people, but all the bloody time?!” A growl could be heard from the vicinity of the Slytherins, and Harry glanced over, flinching slightly at the glare of death Theo was throwing him. Before any disagreement could erupt, a loud whistle sounded, startling everyone.
“I took it upon myself to convince the headmaster that I needed help with trapping you, Harry,” Ginny said in irritation. “I thought you’d gotten the hint on Monday during breakfast.”
Tom snorted softly, a wry smile on his face. “I’m afraid subtlety doesn’t work well for Harry, Miss Weasley,” he said.
“Hey,” Harry chimed in, slightly offended. “I resent that.”
“Anyway, I went to Albus and pretty much told him a sob story about how I was desperate for Harry’s love, and that my financial status left me in the dust as far as competing for his attentions with the other girls. He tried to soothe me with empty platitudes and had even suggested using amortentia, to which I balked. I didn’t want your artificial love, so I complained about the consequences should you stop taking it, or become immune. When I told him that we were ‘soul mates’, he brightened up and gave me a never-ending pouch linked to his vaults.” Tom grinned a feral smile, knowing the direction in which the conversation was heading.
“So, after I got the pouch, I met with Ragnok and arranged for the pouch to link with Tom’s vaults, and for a set amount of galleons to be transferred from Dumbledore’s accounts to Voldemort’s. After all, with everything that old bastard has done to both of you, it’s only fitting that he should fund your war efforts.”
“How in Merlin’s name did you Weasleys escape Slytherin?” Pansy asked, impressed despite herself.
“The sorting hat knew what the headmaster had planned for Harry, and it also knew Tom’s history with the old man. It was completely on our side from the beginning, and was more than willing to hide a fair few snakes in the lion’s den,” the redhead said, smirking proudly.
“Well done, Miss Weasley,” Tom told the girl. “I am honored and blessed to know that such stalwart, loyal friends are working so hard to protect my Harry. Thank you.”