Chapter 1: The Never Ending Story and its Tragic End
Ginny sneezed violently---again!--into her sleeve as a cloud of dust rose with about half a century's worth of Weasley heirlooms. Attic duty was the worst chore imaginable, and so, naturally, she had been assigned the job. Well, technically it had been Ron, but since he was, quote "not feeling up to it", and more up to sneaking off to snog Hermione, Ginny was left to the miserable task.
"It bloody well better be the best, if not only, snog of his life," she muttered as she sorted through the pile of old albums, robes, and decapitated insects. Then, rethinking that statement as a mental image of Ron and Hermione entangled in a passionate kiss flashed before her eyes, she shook her head violently to clear her mind. She levitated the clothes and sent them all into a trunk in the corner of the room with a swish of her wand, and turned her focus to another shabby looking heap on her left.
That was when the trunk into which she'd hastily stuffed her mother's old junk gave a lurch, and fell over onto its side, spewing the remnants of her last hour's hard work. Ginny cursed and crawled over to inspect the pile of rubbish.
That was when, between a crust doily and an old sock she discovered it, an old, tattered book, withered with age, golden-plated letters curling about its age-worn leather cover. Softly, she blew the dust away that caked its outer exterior, and squinted to make out its title.
'Pride and Prejudice'.
It was barely legible in the dim light of her wand, and the ages it had spent beneath her old relative's knickers probably hadn't done it much good. She was about to fold all of the clothes away-again-and begin on that pile she'd left sitting in the corner, when the book flung itself at her, smacking her dead in the forehead, and sending her backwards onto her bum.
"Why you-" she began, but the book had landed squarely in her lap, its pages open to the center.
And the book was blank.
Ginny stared down at the empty pages for a moment, dumbstruck and speechless, and then she remembered what came of books that moved on their own and had blank, intimidating pages. She slammed the book shut and hurled it at the wall, for cautionary measures. Then she levitated it over to the trunk, dropped it on the bottom with a soft 'clunk', and piled the other knickknacks atop it, closing and locking the trunk in one swift motion.
Satisfied, she turned and fled the attic, shaking slightly as she went.
*
Mrs. Weasley stood by her sink, humming contentedly to herself along with one of her favorite witch albums as she cut carrots into the stew she was preparing. She could see the sun shining, a bright jewel against a piercing blue, cloudless sky, through the kitchen window. "Today," she whispered to herself happily, "is a perfect day."
Mr. Weasley looked up at her from the report he was reading, and raised an eyebrow in concern. "You all right, dear?" he asked timidly, and Mrs. Weasley nodded mutely, staring off into space with a dreamy, peaceful expression glowing on her soft features. Figuring she had finally lost her marbles, Arthur Weasley shrugged unconcernedly and returned to his report.
Then Ginny ran into the kitchen, arms flailing wildly as she began ranting madly about an old book that had hit her. This time Mr. and Mrs. Weasley looked genuinely concerned, as their youngest child and only daughter began raving about an evil book that had apparently attacked her in hopes of possessing her soul and forcing her into doing the evil Dark Lord's bidding.
"Ginny," Mr. Weasley said quietly, "shut up." She shut up automatically. "Now, go on from the beginning," he said, gesturing with his hand for her to go on.
Ginny took a deep breath and said, at a mile per minute, "WhilecleaninguptheatticthisbookcameatmeandtriedtodecappitatemesoIslammeditinatrunckandrandownhe-"
Mrs. Weasley shook her head furiously and waved her wand, cutting off Ginny's voice. Ginny finally stopped moving her mouth and looked at both of them hopefully. Mrs. Weasley removed the curse, and said in as pleasant a voice she could muster after having her perfect afternoon shattered by an assault of quick mouthing by her daughter, "Now start at the beginning. Slowly."
Ginny took and even deeper breath and began, once more, to describe for them the evil book lurking in their attic. "We should tell Dumbledore the Dark Lord s trying to reach me again," she finished, looking quite shaken, but her mother interrupted.
"You said the book was Pride and Prejudice?" she asked, somewhat eagerly. "Are you sure?"
Ginny nodded dumbly, taken aback at he mother's unusual spray of useless questions.
"My favorite book! You found it!" Mrs. Weasley cried, hugging Ginny close and squealing in delight, something she most definitely never would have done. "I never dreamed this moment would actually come!" she cried, stepping back from Ginny and clasping her hands together excitedly. "Really, it is a dream come true!"
Ginny stared back at her beaming mother, hardly daring to believe that the despicable book in question and her mom's "long lost dream" were one and the same. Then Mr. Weasley reappeared, having disappeared amidst Mrs. Weasley's outward display of affection. In his hand was the book, title-side facing Ginny, golden letters glittering maliciously.
"Looking for this?" he asked, handing it over to his wife with a puzzled look on his face.
Mrs. Weasley handed it over to Ginny, looking absolutely ecstatic. "Now it's yours dear," she said enthusiastically. "Bet you can't wait to get started reading it."
Ginny looked down at the book in her hands, and then up at her mother. Seeing that smile radiating off of her mother like stink off Ron's gym socks, she began to think that her whole family was one grape short of a fruit salad.
Ginny sneezed violently---again!--into her sleeve as a cloud of dust rose with about half a century's worth of Weasley heirlooms. Attic duty was the worst chore imaginable, and so, naturally, she had been assigned the job. Well, technically it had been Ron, but since he was, quote "not feeling up to it", and more up to sneaking off to snog Hermione, Ginny was left to the miserable task.
"It bloody well better be the best, if not only, snog of his life," she muttered as she sorted through the pile of old albums, robes, and decapitated insects. Then, rethinking that statement as a mental image of Ron and Hermione entangled in a passionate kiss flashed before her eyes, she shook her head violently to clear her mind. She levitated the clothes and sent them all into a trunk in the corner of the room with a swish of her wand, and turned her focus to another shabby looking heap on her left.
That was when the trunk into which she'd hastily stuffed her mother's old junk gave a lurch, and fell over onto its side, spewing the remnants of her last hour's hard work. Ginny cursed and crawled over to inspect the pile of rubbish.
That was when, between a crust doily and an old sock she discovered it, an old, tattered book, withered with age, golden-plated letters curling about its age-worn leather cover. Softly, she blew the dust away that caked its outer exterior, and squinted to make out its title.
'Pride and Prejudice'.
It was barely legible in the dim light of her wand, and the ages it had spent beneath her old relative's knickers probably hadn't done it much good. She was about to fold all of the clothes away-again-and begin on that pile she'd left sitting in the corner, when the book flung itself at her, smacking her dead in the forehead, and sending her backwards onto her bum.
"Why you-" she began, but the book had landed squarely in her lap, its pages open to the center.
And the book was blank.
Ginny stared down at the empty pages for a moment, dumbstruck and speechless, and then she remembered what came of books that moved on their own and had blank, intimidating pages. She slammed the book shut and hurled it at the wall, for cautionary measures. Then she levitated it over to the trunk, dropped it on the bottom with a soft 'clunk', and piled the other knickknacks atop it, closing and locking the trunk in one swift motion.
Satisfied, she turned and fled the attic, shaking slightly as she went.
Mrs. Weasley stood by her sink, humming contentedly to herself along with one of her favorite witch albums as she cut carrots into the stew she was preparing. She could see the sun shining, a bright jewel against a piercing blue, cloudless sky, through the kitchen window. "Today," she whispered to herself happily, "is a perfect day."
Mr. Weasley looked up at her from the report he was reading, and raised an eyebrow in concern. "You all right, dear?" he asked timidly, and Mrs. Weasley nodded mutely, staring off into space with a dreamy, peaceful expression glowing on her soft features. Figuring she had finally lost her marbles, Arthur Weasley shrugged unconcernedly and returned to his report.
Then Ginny ran into the kitchen, arms flailing wildly as she began ranting madly about an old book that had hit her. This time Mr. and Mrs. Weasley looked genuinely concerned, as their youngest child and only daughter began raving about an evil book that had apparently attacked her in hopes of possessing her soul and forcing her into doing the evil Dark Lord's bidding.
"Ginny," Mr. Weasley said quietly, "shut up." She shut up automatically. "Now, go on from the beginning," he said, gesturing with his hand for her to go on.
Ginny took a deep breath and said, at a mile per minute, "WhilecleaninguptheatticthisbookcameatmeandtriedtodecappitatemesoIslammeditinatrunckandrandownhe-"
Mrs. Weasley shook her head furiously and waved her wand, cutting off Ginny's voice. Ginny finally stopped moving her mouth and looked at both of them hopefully. Mrs. Weasley removed the curse, and said in as pleasant a voice she could muster after having her perfect afternoon shattered by an assault of quick mouthing by her daughter, "Now start at the beginning. Slowly."
Ginny took and even deeper breath and began, once more, to describe for them the evil book lurking in their attic. "We should tell Dumbledore the Dark Lord s trying to reach me again," she finished, looking quite shaken, but her mother interrupted.
"You said the book was Pride and Prejudice?" she asked, somewhat eagerly. "Are you sure?"
Ginny nodded dumbly, taken aback at he mother's unusual spray of useless questions.
"My favorite book! You found it!" Mrs. Weasley cried, hugging Ginny close and squealing in delight, something she most definitely never would have done. "I never dreamed this moment would actually come!" she cried, stepping back from Ginny and clasping her hands together excitedly. "Really, it is a dream come true!"
Ginny stared back at her beaming mother, hardly daring to believe that the despicable book in question and her mom's "long lost dream" were one and the same. Then Mr. Weasley reappeared, having disappeared amidst Mrs. Weasley's outward display of affection. In his hand was the book, title-side facing Ginny, golden letters glittering maliciously.
"Looking for this?" he asked, handing it over to his wife with a puzzled look on his face.
Mrs. Weasley handed it over to Ginny, looking absolutely ecstatic. "Now it's yours dear," she said enthusiastically. "Bet you can't wait to get started reading it."
Ginny looked down at the book in her hands, and then up at her mother. Seeing that smile radiating off of her mother like stink off Ron's gym socks, she began to think that her whole family was one grape short of a fruit salad.
Author notes: I am of very few word. Here is one of them: Review! That is all :)
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