Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and will never own Harry Potter.
Ginny's Revenge"I will kill Malfoy."
"Let's not get so extreme, dear sister," responded Fred.
"Tough luck, dear brother. How could he do this to me?"
"Well, let's look back a little. Did you recently do anything to Malfoy to make him this…well, you know, did you do anything to make him feel more malicious than usual?"
"No. Not that I can remember."
"Yes you did."
"What'd I do?"
"That whole screw-Malfoy's-evil-trick-on-Harry's-broom thing. It was not really supposed to backfire on Malfoy's favourite teacher," interjected George.
"Yeah, but you guys helped."
"Trust me Ginny," said George, "it is much easier to pick on people who are younger than you and less experienced with magic."
"But I…"
"Let's not argue, little sis, and think positively."
"And what did I gain from being publicly humiliated by Draco Abraxas Malfoy?"
"Well, an opportunity to prank him—without doing something lethal. Last sentence being the key phrase."
"And note to yourself, sis," added Fred, "Do not sleep with a picture of your crush under the pillow, as hot as he may be—hey!"
Ginny had thrown a pillow at Fred's head, blushing crimson.
"I'm just glad Harry didn't get wind of it, that's all."
"Don't count on that, Ginny," cut in George. "I think he knows already. You're not that discree—ouch!"
Ginny threw a pillow at his head too. "What do you suggest?"
George pulled an indifferent look. "Well, I don't know. In order to gain someone's help, my dear younger sibling, you must realise that it is unwise—extremely unwise—to throw pillows at his, and his accomplice's head."
"Please?"
George gave an evil smile. "Certainly. You don't actually think that I would miss a chance to do something more to Lucius Malfoy's son?"
Fred spoke, "I'm not sitting around while you guys have fun. Here's my idea…"
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"No, Fred, I absolutely refuse to reveal his chicken-imprinted boxers to Pansy. No way. Nothing doing. Nada."
"Your problem then."
"Would you like to steal the boxers?"
"Okay, you have a point there."
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"Absolutely not, George. Do I look insane? Plus, that's not even my level of magic."
"Well I thought that Transfiguring him into a balloon was a good idea. Then you could pop him. Hey—what about turning him into a five-year-old kid?
"Heck no. What if he and Sylvester gang up on us?"
"Okay, you have a point there."
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"This one sounds okay, but you'd better be sure it works."
"It will."
"You're doing it."
"No way. It's your revenge."
"Humph."
"Mind you Ginny," started Fred, "You'd better get on Sylvester's good side, if you want him to do this."
"Fine. Leave it to me."
She walked out of the common room. George smiled. "She will make me proud."
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Ginny walked towards Sylvester's room, armed with her wand, someone's makeup (Pansy Parkinson's actually), and a good-sized chocolate cake with cocoanut ice cream inside and chocolate frosting.
She knocked lightly on the door, her heart pounding. Please do not do anything foul. Please do not do anything foul. Please…
The door opened.
Sylvester stood there, warily. "What do you want?"
"Just to say hi, and also that I'm very sorry for all the stuff I did—like putting snow in your hat, and—and other things."
"So?"
"I brought you this." She handed him the cake and a fork. "I thought you'd like it." Thank you Harry, for the cake, and thank you Mum, for sending it to Harry.
Sylvester took the cake from her. His eyes widened greedily and happily. Ginny's heart melted. Aw! He's so cute! Now I want to take him with me! Oh, God, what am I saying?
"Thank you." She can't be that bad. She gave me cake. No one who's a meanie will give you cake like that. And she even brought a fork.
He started eating and got ice cream all over his face. "Th-Thanks, um—um…"
"Ginny."
"Okay. Thanks Ginny."
"You're really not so bad," she muttered.
"What?"
"Nothing. Hey, I was just thinking, that mean blond boy, who called you weird?"
"Yeah. I don't like him no more. He's mean."
"Don't you want to do something to him?"
"Kinda."
"Well, I have an idea."
"What sort of idea?" asked the little boy, through a mouthful of frosting.
"Well, here's what I think…"
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Ginny waited behind the door of the DADA classroom. Okay, Malfoy, hurry up…
Malfoy was swearing under his breath at what a stupid teacher that Professor Lupin was.
Okay fine, be that way. As long as you're not aware of your surroundings, I can attack more easily. It's really lucky that Professor Lupin can't hear you.
"Useless, teacher…doesn't even know how the ---- to teach a decent class, wait till my father gets my next owl."
Come on, move a little this way…"Should just blow off this class in future…stupid Defense, do we really need it?"
YES! A little closer now, come on, my precious!"Bloody Potter, thinks he knows everything. Top student, top student, my ----."
You do NOT insult Harry. Okay, that does it, to hell with being discreet. Ginny rushed in with her wand raised. "STUPEFY!"
Malfoy didn't even have time to see who was wielding the wand. He fell to the floor as the jet of bright red light struck him in the face.
Ginny pointed her wand at Malfoy's unmoving body. "Wingardium Leviosa!"
Malfoy hovered about three feet in the air. Ginny sent him into Sylvester's room, just a few rooms away from the DADA classroom.
Sylvester was waiting with the case of makeup and whatever stuff grown women put on their faces and in their hair. (A/N: I hate makeup, even though I'm in my teens. Maybe that's because the only makeup I've ever worn is stage makeup, and I find that incredibly annoying and distracting. Don't you? Drives someone crazy.)
"So, put him on the floor, Ginny. You're really cool, you know?"
Ginny grinned. I'm definitely on his good side.
"Get to it, then."
"What do I do? I don't wear makeup."
"Here—take this tube and spread it over his lips."
"Hey! Colour comes out! Now his lips are red! Like the scary clowns Mommy showed me once!"
"Is your mum a Muggle?"
"No…Daddy is."
"Oh, I see."
"Why?"
"Clowns aren't a wizard thing."
"If you're pureblood, how do you know?"
"My dad likes Muggles a lot."
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Ginny and Sylvester dragged Malfoy off to a broom closet several corridors away.
"We'll go now, Sylvester, and we'll wait for him to wake up. He'll get a surprise in there."
"Really? Is it nice?"
"Um—no."
"I still don't get what's so bad about boys wearing makeup."
"It just looks funny."
"That's all?"
"Um—yeah. People like that are generally in drag."
"Oh."
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Malfoy woke up two hours later. Oh my God! How long was I in here? Come to that, HOW DID I GET HERE? Whatever. I'd just better get out of here. He checked his watch. Six thirty? Let's see, so it's dinner. Yeah. Cool. Well, that's okay. At least I missed History of Magic. And Herbology. What a good day!
Malfoy walked out of the closet and made his way to the Great Hall. Two girls were standing by the entrance, talking about some celebrity-wizarding-singer. As soon as he passed them, they burst out laughing.
What's so ------- funny? Go away, for goodness'' sake. He walked into the Great Hall, where the House tables were full of chattering students, happy that the day was done.
Immediately, all eyes turned to him. A stunned silence hit the Great Hall. Then, suddenly…
Everyone started to laugh at him.
Everyone.
Confused, Malfoy ran to the Slytherin table, next to Pansy. "What's up?" he asked.
Pansy fought to keep her face straight. "Did you—um—check to see how you look?"
"No. Should I?"
"In this case, yes. Here." She handed him a small mirror.
Malfoy opened it and saw his face.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!"
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A/N: Had to do that to Malfoy. The little kid who I kind of modelled Sylvester on is a little more like Sylvester in this chapter, in that he loves food, no joke. I think his parents had to lock the Popsicles into the fridge, because he kept eating them, and he's only four. Lots of love to you! And also, if you give him something sweet, he'll love you (actually, he's a lot more open now that he's gotten a bit older—but he still loves cake). :)
