Chapter Twelve: You Never Give Me Your Money
A/N: FF.net and MS Word never get along, so I would suggest to reading this on GryffindorTower.net for the full correct formated version. Nothing against ff.net, but the bold and italics never work right on here. J
Through the thick haze of pain that flowed like a river through her body, Ginny could hear voices coming from somewhere above her, sounding as though the speakers were in a cavern.
"Don't worry, lad. She'll be fine. Why I remember the time when the Wasps were playing against the Kestrels and Martin Fitzgerald—he was one of the Beaters for them—ploughed me with his bat so hard that I was out cold for two weeks!"
"Yeah Harry. Besides, she is a Weasley after all. We're known for our hard heads, as both mum and Hermione often remind me."
"Shhh! Don't talk so loud, Ron. I think she's waking up."
"Ginny?"
This last question was whispered softly in her ear. Ginny slightly turned her head, moaning as pain lashed through her head with the effort. After the third attempt, she was able to open her eyes just a crack to see Harry's pale face etched with concern, just inches from her own.
"What happened?" Ginny rasped out weakly, not too sure where she was or indeed why she was there. Didn't she have something important to do? Something very important.
"THE MATCH!" she roared suddenly, shooting up from the bed and making Harry jump back in alarm. Cold waves of nausea washed over Ginny, nearly making the blinding pain in her head disappear. "Oh no! How bad did they—"
"We won! We won! We won!" Ginny blinked in surprise and clutched her head at the raised voices. Not only was Harry and Ron there, but so was the rest of the team, and standing just behind John was Ludo Bagman and Kennilworthy Whisp.
"But—oh—how? What happened?" Ginny asked, her mind quickly replaying the last few moments she could remember of the match. She remembered getting hit in the side by one of the Slytherin Chasers as they grabbed the Quaffle from her, watching the same Chaser score, then she remembered feeling very light headed…
"You fell Ginny," Denis explained. "I thought you were dead! You've been out cold for hours!"
"You were hurt," Ron said, suddenly launching into his "big brother" mode. "One of those Bludgers nearly ripped your head off! Why didn't you tell us you were bleeding, we would've at least—"
"I was bleeding?"
"Yes," Harry said very calmly. "Very badly. Didn't you feel all the blood? You were practically drenched in it."
Ginny waved her hand in annoyance, wanting to bring the topic back 'round to what was important. "But how did we win?" she asked again.
"Harry caught the Snitch of course!" Ludo Bagman swaggered forward with a great laugh that made Ginny's head pound. "And what a great catch it was, right Ken?"
Kennilworthy Whisp nodded. "Yes, Ludo a great game all around. One of the best I've seen at Hogwarts. Great game, Miss Weasley." He beamed at Ginny.
Then Madam Pomfrey bustled in to check on Ginny and proceeded to drive her visitors from the room. Bagman and Whisp both promised that they'd speak to her before they left Hogwarts.
"I'm going to go talk the Head-Girl into letting us have a party," Ron winked at her, giving her a hug before Madam Pomfrey chivied him out with the rest of the team.
Ginny managed not to squirm while Madam Pomfrey examined her injury. "The swelling's gone down," she said as she replaced the bandage around Ginny's head. "It looked worse than it actually was. Head injuries tend to bleed a lot, but I don't see any serious damage or trauma." Madam Pomfrey then began to gently press Ginny's stomach, where the second Bludger had hit her. The area felt sore, and Ginny was stiff all over from her fall, but there wasn't much damage there either. "You are one lucky girl, I'll give you that," the healer clucked. "Ludo Bagman has been hit one too many times with a Bludger himself, why on earth he didn't put a stop to this I'll never know. He's the head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports for Merlin's sake!"
Ginny wondered that herself, along with why he and Kennilworthy Whisp were even in the hospital wing.
"Potter, what are you still doing here?" Madam Pomfrey stopped fussing just long enough to blast the question.
Ginny looked up, surprised to see Harry hadn't budged from the chair on the other side of the bed. "Just waiting for the verdict," he replied quietly, his eyes roving over Ginny, his face still a bit pale.
"Well, she'll heal nicely but I do want her to have plenty of rest and relaxation. Understand?" Ginny and Harry both nodded.
Although she was quite touched that Harry had stayed, she wondered if there was more to it than he was letting on. Head injury or not, Ginny hadn't missed the strange looks that passed between her teammates. Something was wrong.
****
"To Gryffindor!" Ron shouted, holding up his mug of Butterbeer Sport—the newest flavour of Butterbeer, perfect for those after-Quidditch parties.
"To Gryffindor!" And cheers erupted in the common room accompanied by the loud clanking of mugs as all the Gryffindors toasted to their victory.
"I'd like to say thank you on behalf of the team and ourselves and I hope we passed the audition!" John sniggered, dancing around like a loon.
The party was in full Gryffindor swing. Even though every slight movement and noise sounded like a cannon blast to Ginny, she enjoyed herself immensely. Harry however, seemed sort of…upset about something. He wasn't as cheerful as he normally was after a match. He didn't laugh very much when Paul tripped Neville—who landed directly in Patricia's lap, spilling his drink all over the both of them. Patricia seemed as embarrassed as Neville was, and both stammered at each other for about five minutes before they noticed that they were the center of attention of everyone in the common room.
They were sitting on the sofa, Harry's arm wrapped around her, her head resting on his shoulder. Ginny was just about to ask Harry if he wanted to go somewhere to talk when Ron made the toast, which just caused more cheers and good-natured yelling.
"The cup will be ours!" Ron shouted, his ears a bit red from too much drink. "Just think Ginny, there'll be a little plaque with the name 'Ginny Estelle Weasley' inscribed in fancy gold letters."
The common room went dead silent.
"Estelle?" Seamus Finnigan asked, barely getting the word out before falling back in his chair in a fit of laughter.
Ginny felt the heat creep up her cheeks. "Estelle?" chuckled Harry next to her, raising an eyebrow in question.
"I was named after our grandmother," Ginny bit out through gritted teeth. "It's my grandmother's name!" she said a bit louder to the rest of the room. "Thanks a bunch Ronald FRANCIS," Ginny sneered at her brother, making sure the "Francis" bit was carefully pronounced so no one would miss it.
Ron went just as red as she was. "Francis?" Harry gasped, holding onto a stitch in his side. "Who were you named after, your other grandmother?"
Ron glared at Harry. "Shut it, Potter!"
The party went on for another two hours before Hermione finally called an end to it—just after Lavander Brown was starting to take off her shirt. Quick cleaning spells took care of most of the mess, and finally Ginny and Harry were left alone.
"What's got into you Harry?" she finally asked. "You don't seem to be very happy about the match at all."
"I don't like seeing you get hurt," he said simply, staring into the brightly burning fire.
"Well, I don't much like getting hurt to be honest," she replied half-jokingly. "But that's not all that's on your mind." Ginny cupped his cheek with her hand and made him face her. "Come on Potter, you're not fooling me. Spit it out."
Harry bit his lip, and Ginny could almost see the cogs turning in his head, pondering what to tell her.
"This was a nasty game, Ginny. The Slytherins weren't playing fair, not that they ever do, but this time they went overboard. You could have been seriously hurt Ginny—and—" Harry's voice trailed off.
"Harry, I'm fine," Ginny said soothingly, stroking his arm in comfort. "You know Madam Pomfrey wouldn't have let me out of her sight if I was really hurt—"
"It's your broom."
"Huh?"
Harry took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. "Your broom. We were all so worried about you that no one thought about getting it until much later. Sue found it."
Ginny didn't know what to say. She gawked at Harry, letting his words sink in. Her broomstick. Her first broomstick. The Nimbus Two Thousand and One that her brothers had managed to buy for her, using the money they'd saved from selling the Wheezes. Her thoughts went back to the day she'd first held it, when Fred, George, and Ron plopped the shiny new broom into her hands and nervously explained that they'd bought it for her. She could well imagine what had happened to her broomstick, what the Slytherins were capable of doing to it, but she needed to hear it for some morbid reason.
"What happened?" she asked, her voice flat.
"Dunno. Sue said she found it laying on the ground, broken into pieces. No one saw anything, but of course we know who's responsible."
"Slytherin."
"Yeah. I'm so sorry, Ginny." He softly kissed her forehead, and hugged her closer. It seemed silly, crying over a broomstick, but the tears wouldn't stop flowing.
"Hey, come on," Harry said after a bit, chucking her on the chin to meet his gaze. A teasing light appeared in his eyes, as he teased, "I might even let you ride my Firebolt again, and you know I just don't let anyone do that."
****
"Ginny! There you are!" Ludo Bagman was puffing towards Ginny, his face red with exertion, and his breath coming out in great gasps that turned white in the frigid evening air. "I've been looking all over for you, but Harry said you'd gone out for a walk. How're you feeling?"
Oh, just peachy keen after falling fifty feet from the air! How the hell do you think I feel?
Not to mention I'm completely broomless you big stupid, fat git!
"Oh, I'm ok, thanks," Ginny said, wanting nothing more than to be left alone. She'd woken up that morning feeling very sore and with a splitting headache, but nothing hurt worse than the heavy feeling in her heart over the loss of her broom. Before they had retired the previous evening, she had insisted that Harry show her what was left of her Nimbus. Harry had reluctantly handed her a small bag and with trembling hands she'd opened it. Out onto the table came her beloved broomstick, in pieces ranging from the size of very small toothpicks to much larger chunks of wood.
"Heard about your broomstick," Bagman said as he patted her shoulder. "It's a terrible shame. Really terrible."
Yeah, it is! Now leave me alone!
"Yeah," replied Ginny.
"I wanted to congratulate you on your win again. Great game it was. One of the best I've seen in years. You're going to go far one of these days, I bet you anything." Bagman smiled brightly, and patted her on her back, causing Ginny's head to pound even harder.
"Thanks, Mr Bagman, really, but I—" --would really like it if you left me the hell alone!
Bagman's eyes darted furtively around the area they were in, then interrupted her in a very hushed tone, "The way those Slytherins played was a disgrace to the game of Quidditch. But you can beat them Ginny, I know you can." He grinned in a strange way and leaned close to Ginny. "Which is why I'm offering to help you, what d'you say, eh?"
"What do you mean, Mr Bagman?"
Help me! Ha! Like we need help from an over-the-hill Beater who can barely manage to keep his broomstick standing up? The man can hardly string two sentences together!
Bagman leaned in closer. "Well, I have connections you see. Connections that might just get you something you need." Bagman's eyes gleamed brightly, his expression changing to that of pure excitement. "How'd you like to have a Firebolt? For absolutely next to nothing! Why I bet you have enough saved from those jokes you and your brothers sell to buy one!"
He's lost his mind! I don't have even an eighth saved up of what it would cost for a Firebolt!
"What? There's no way. I know what a Firebolt costs, Mr Bagman, and it's most certainly not—"
"You just have to know where to look, Ginny," Bagman explained. "Now, I know a few people who owe me a few favours you see, so all I'll need from you is the down payment."
I don't like the sound of that.
"Down payment? Look, Mr Bagman, it's really nice of you to offer to help me, but—"
Bagman held up a hand to interrupt her. "Now Ginny, at least think on it a bit before you refuse. I'm offering you a chance of a lifetime, a real honest-to-Merlin Firebolt, and right now you're nothing without a good broom. Just think on it, ok? Two hundred galleons is all I'm asking, and half of that I'll need up front."
"One hundred galleons!" Ginny was shocked. Yeah, she knew that a Firebolt would sell in the stores for three hundred times that amount, but still—she barely had fifty galleons saved up.
"You know you couldn't pay that for a twig in the stores," Bagman protested sharply, his large stomach puffing out as though she was accusing him. "You should know what they go for at Quality Quidditch Supplies." Bagman glanced at his watch. "I've got to run, Ginny. Just promise you'll think on it, ok Ginny?" It could have been the fading light, but Ginny could've sworn there was almost a desperate look in Bagman's eyes. "I'll send you an owl in three days for your decision and I'll need the money by next week."
Ginny bit her lip, thinking fast. "Ok, I'll give you an answer in three days. Thanks, Mr Bagman."
Bagman nodded and held his hand out for her to shake. "You won't regret this Ginny, I promise you. Now before I leave," he said once they had grasped palms, "I'd love to know what you did to that Slytherin captain when you two shook hands yesterday."
Ginny laughed as she pictured Malfoy's pained look when the two Quidditch captains had shaken hands. "Oh that, that was nothing but a few porcupine quills embedded in my glove," she laughed.
Bagman let out a great chortle, his belly shaking with glee. "Great idea! You're going to be great by the time you get to the big leagues. I've been known to pull a stunt like that myself, only when necessary." His expression changed again, returning to the almost panicked look he'd worn just a few minutes ago. "Well, I've got to be off, but I'll be expecting your owl." And with a very hasty wave, Bagman jogged off towards Hogsmeade.
Ginny watched him leave, then turned and made her way back towards the castle, her growling stomach telling her it was time for dinner.
One week. Ok, so how in the name of all that is Quidditch are we going to get one hundred galleons in just seven days?
I have a plan.
A very famous plan, I'm sure.
Shut it, you! I've got about thirty galleons saved up from the sale of "Ginny Gems."
Which leaves seventy left to come up with.
Exactly. And I do own shares of Fred and George's joke shop, which I could sell back. ARE YOU CRAZY? That joke shop promises to be very successful, you can't just give up stock in something like that!Well, what other suggestion do you have? Do you know of anyone who just so happens to have seventy galleons sitting around?
As a matter of fact, you know Harry…Harry does not get involved in this!
I suppose you're right.
It's probably best he doesn't know about this at all. He doesn't like Ludo Bagman at all.
And with this decision firmly in place, Ginny went inside to dinner.
****
"Where have you been?" Ron asked as she sat down across from him, taking in her flushed cheeks and slight shivers as the warmth of the Great Hall chased away the lingering cold of the November air.
"You shouldn't be outside in that cold air you know," Harry scolded, sounding just a bit like her mother. "How're you feeling?"
Ginny cast a reassuring smile at the pair. "I'm fine."
"You missed Kennilworthy Whisp," Ron said, pointing his fork at her. "He interviewed all the Quidditch players at Hogwarts."
"I did? Oh no!" Ginny buried her head in her hands.
"He just left an hour ago," confirmed Harry, patting her back in consolation. "He asked us about you though."
"Yeah, I said you were a tyrant, but you weren't pretty bad for a first-timer and a sister," Ron grinned.
Ginny turned her head so she could stick her tongue out at him. "Thanks big brother." She forked a pea, making a mental note to ask Dobby why the house-elves insisted on serving the foul vegetable, and threw it a Ron, who blocked it with a slice of bread.
"Oh, and when asked why he became a Beater, John cooked up some yarn about a man on a flaming pie telling him he should be a Beater," Ron said, ducking as another onslaught of peas went over his head.
"We need to sit down tonight and look at the latest issues of Which Broomstick," Harry said quickly to diffuse the situation before Ginny could throw a spoonful of the Monkberry Moon Delight they had for pudding.
"I heard the Germans have come up with a new racing broom…" Ron said through a mouthful of potato.
"Cranberry sauce?" John asked Ginny as he and Paul, along with two other boys, joined them at the table. Ginny looked at the new boys. One was not much taller than she was with a rather large nose and very dark hair. Several rings adorned his fingers, including one with a tremendous stone. The other boy had a very unusual haircut and a set of crooked teeth that did nothing to diminish from his handsome face. The crests on their robes told Ginny that they were Hufflepuffs.
"Oh, this is Carl Perkins and Richard Starkey, Beaters for Hufflepuff." Paul introduced the two boys to Ginny, who had to repress the inexplicable urge to scream and faint as she took in the site of the four Beaters together.
"What do you call that hairstyle you're wearing?" Ron asked Carl, gesturing to the mop of long dark hair.
"Arthur," Carl replied. This time Ginny did giggle at the confused expression on her brother's face.
Of course it didn't take long for the topic to turn back 'round to Quidditch and the best broomsticks available. With each broomstick mentioned, Ginny grew more and more depressed, knowing full well that she wouldn't be able to afford them even if they were used.
What do you expect from someone dressed in robes with enough holes to fill the Albert Hall?
I HATE being poor!
It was a bit comforting to see from the expression on Ron's face that he was thinking the exact same thing.
****
"So which one did you like?" Harry asked later as they were sitting in their special nook with copies of Which Broomstick scattered about on the sofa and floor.
Ginny screwed up her face. "They're all great, although I know I'm just going to have to see what's at the Used Quidditch Supplies and what's there," she said glumly.
At least with those brooms you'd know what you'd be paying for instead of trusting some crackpot.
But this is a REAL Firebolt!!
Hmmpf.
Harry fidgeted slightly as he shot her a look from the corner of his eye. "I..uh..actually…I was hoping you'd let me pay for whatever one you wanted."
"What? No way!"
"Oh, come on Gin—"
"No way, Harry! You can't buy me a broom, it's too…it's too…too…"
"Too?"
"Personal!"
"Personal? A broomstick?" Harry laughed. "Really, if I had said some sexy lingerie, or something, that would be personal, but a broomstick?"
"I doubt the sexy lingerie would be as expensive as a broomstick, Harry."
"No, but you'd look better in it," he glibly replied with a wink which sent her nerve-endings tingling.
~~~~~~
A/N: Butterbeer Sport appears courtesy of PoV; the bartender at the Orb and Sceptre. I'm totally blaming Piett for any innuendo that is in here, even though I had most of this completed before I read "The Joy of Quidditch." I forgot to thank Sue, Anne, and Caitlyn for the Slytherin comments from the last chapter.
I also have no earthly idea if there is such a thing as a "Stock Market" in the Wizarding world, but for the purposes of this story let's just pretend they do.
I have no earthly idea how much a Firebolt would cost, but I'm just gathering that it would just an astronomical amount, so don't quote me on that price.
If you don't want to know what the Beatles references are, then stop reading this and review now. J
BEATLES REFERENCES: (I'm getting longer in my descriptions of them, because I think it's fun!)
John's line: "I'd like to say thank you on behalf of the team and ourselves and I hope we passed the audition!" was taken from the last bit of "Get Back," originally appearing on "Let it Be." The line was originally "I'd like to say thank you on behalf of the group and ourselves and I hope we passed the audition," spoken by John as they were wrapping up what is known at the "Rooftop Concert."
The voices' lines: "I have a plan." "A very famous plan," comes from the 1965 film HELP!
Ron's line about the "flaming pie" refers back to a dream John Lennon claimed he had when asked by reporters about how the name of The Beatles came about. He claimed that he had a dream that a man on a flaming pie came to him and said "You shall be Beatles with an A." This wasn't true, but John apparently thought it made a good story.
Monkberry Moon Delight—ok, so this is more of a Paul McCartney reference as it is the name of a song on his "Ram" album, one of my favorite albums and just a hysterical song.
Cranberry Sauce—arguably the line spoken by John Lennon at the end "Strawberry Fields Forever" although I can still hear him saying "I buried Paul," but don't get me started…
Also from HELP! is the ring with the red stone on Richard Starkey's hand.
The lines: "What do you call that hairstyle you're wearing?" "Arthur." Comes from the 1964 flim A Hard Day's Night—and you guys will never know how long I've wanted to put that in here, LOL! We'll miss you George!
The "Enough holes to fill the Albert Hall" refers to the lyrics in the song "A Day In the Life": Now they know how many holes it takes to fill the Albert Hall. It's also a line in the animated 1968 film Yellow Submarine.
And the chapter title is from the song on "Abbey Road."