|
[10 Mar 2003|11:57pm] |
[[Ginny is released from the hospital on Friday. She still has flu-like symptoms from the brush with Avada Kedavra, but she's past the fever and chills, so she's permitted to return to work.
By Monday, she's done a modest amount of research, and drops a report on her supervisor's desk.
"Bodyguards," she says, hooking her feet around the legs of the chair. "They've all got them now. Parkinson's were a bunch of Nordic-looking bastards, and from the information I've been able to get to, apparently Austria is one of the countries that's fervently supporting the LA. Sending in specialized reinforcements, although I don't know if that's the sole source of these bodyguards. Those ones I saw last week, though..." she shakes her head. "I haven't seen anything like that in years. They're amazingly talented. The fact of the matter is, I don't think we can keep sending single units in if we want any amount of success. We've got to start using teams, or it's just never going to happen."]]
|
|
|
[22 Feb 2003|01:39am] |
[[
At four-thirty PM on the twenty-first, Ginny walks down a street of Occupied London, heading for the Galleon Towers hotel. Her normally red hair has been charmed to a medium brown, and her facial features have been subtly altered -- her nose is a little longer, her chin is a bit more pointy, and her face no longer has the roundness it normally does. She's unrecognizable to anyone who knows her as Ginny Weasley, and looks rather nondescript. Underneath her plain black robe, however, she has an emergency back-up polyjuice of Pansy Parkinson strapped to her thigh for "Plan B", and a thin braclet on her left hand that conceals a one time use portkey back to the Ministry of Magic.
The doorman of the Galleon tips his hat at her when she walks in, and she gives him a tight smile in return.
Pansy Parkinson leaves the Rabbithole just around the time Ginny arrives the hotel, and she arrives there about fifteen minutes later. When she turns the corner onto the side corridor of the ninth floor, where her room is located, Ginny is standing next to the door, her wand drawn and at her side. When Ginny sees Pansy, she pushes off from the wall and lifts her wand. Pansy starts down the hall turned to speak to someone behind her, and she freezes when she catches sight of Ginny; that's when her bodyguards step into view.
Pansy turns to leap behind one of the bodyguards when she catches sight of the wand, but Ginny's already cast a spell, and a Congelo hits her square in the chest before she makes it behind him. Ginny's about to try and get the bodyguard in front of Pansy, but one of the others casts an Avada Kedavra, and she barely manages to move in time to only have it graze her side. The force of it throws her sideways against the wall, and her wand slips out of her grasp. She's very nearly knocked unconscious as she slumps to the base of the floor. By now, the other bodyguards have pulled out their wands, and Ginny barely rolls out of the way before another AK is cast. She ducks into the alcove of Pansy's door and quickly scrambles with the portkey bracelet, wrapping her hand around the charm minutes before the impact of the curse starts to take its toll.
While the fighting is still going on, Pansy's bodyguard picked her up and managed to get her down the stairs. Medical attention had already apparated in because of a hotel patron's report of the activities happening on the ninth floor, and Pansy is whisked off by the mediwizards before real crowds start to form. The effects of the spell have only started to do damage when she's attended to, and that alone saves her life -- for now. She's placed in intensive care with round-the-clock supervision, and the odds of survival aren't in her favor.
Similarly, Ginny is attended to by medical care the minute she ports back into the Ministry. She's much better off than Pansy, though, having only been side-swiped by a curse, and is sentenced to bed rest for a week until the symptoms of chills, aches, and a fever wear off.
Ginny's rather dizzy when she arrives in the Ministry, and is fading in and out of consciousness when the mediwizards first have a look at her. She keeps muttering the same thing, though.
"The report didn't say anything about bodyguards."
]]
|
|
|
[08 Feb 2003|05:51am] |
[filtered for Weasleys]
They're saying all over this place that Percy's been found and is currently in custody, and apparently Mum and Dad have been here with him. I haven't heard a fucking word from them in over a week, and this hardly the sort of thing my department deals with, so I'm not quite sure what to think.
If this is true, though... Christ. I'm not sure whether to be relieved he's home or worried sick about him. I've heard some pretty disturbing rumors.
Have any of you heard anything about this?
I hope you're all doing well. I'm not going to be around on Thursday or Friday because of work, but consider this a preemptive tiding of Valentine's Day contentment, whether you're spending it with girlfriends, goblins, dragons, or a special trick wand.
|
|
|
[08 Jan 2003|11:52pm] |
[[When Ginny sits down at her desk on the eighth, she's got a thick file waiting in her in-box. Stuck to the top is a yellow sticky note from her superior; after reading it, she closes her eyes and mouthes 'fuck', and then opens the file.
( Assignment 1762-B )
The promised attatched file is a standard Department of Mysteries-compiled biographical Death Eater profile. Ginny thumbs through it, skimming over the relevant information and leaving the more in-depth portions for later. She unhooks the picture that's been paper-clipped to the inside of the front flap and tilts it to it's in the light of her desk lamp. The photograph is a Muggle one, as they always are with these files, and is a black-and-white taken of a woman walking down a street in a trim winter coat. There's nothing terribly unusual about her looks - in fact, she appears to be about as young as Ginny herself.
Drawing her eyebrows together, Ginny tucks it back under the paperclip and shuts the folder, then leans back in her chair and rubs her eyes with the heels of her hands until she sees white patterns on her eyelids.]]
|
|
|
[08 Jan 2003|08:04pm] |
[[filtered for Bill]]
Bill, please take care of yourself. I'm somehow not surprised that you've managed to be the first human to catch a goblin disease, but even with my limited knowledge of keeping things alive, I imagine it's difficult to recuperate from any malady while trying to rewrite something that awfully confused. I cannot believe you were ever Head Boy.
Thank you for the Christmas presents, by the way. Work's got me so occupied at the moment that I was working late Christmas Eve and slept all the way through the holiday. Mum sent me a flock of frantic owls; I don't think she understands that endless death and destruction does not pause for the holidays. Regardless, skimming that herbology book you sent has given me some ideas of what I'm doing wrong. Did you know that in my third year I went down in history as the only student to single-handedly murder a Mandrake? There was a funeral and everything. Professor Sprout decided I was unfit to work with plants ever again.
I have a renewed interest in keeping Perce's marigolds around, though, and can't tell you how unbelievably relieved I was to see your post on his well-being. I still can't figure out why he wrote to you and not me, but either way I am terribly happy to hear that he's alright, and hope he'll be home soon.
You, though, Bill. Stay in bed, get a lot of sleep, and drink fluids.
|
|
|
[18 Dec 2002|01:16am] |
( out of character information )
So I'm here now, too. Geneva Marguerite Weasley, officer on the Magical Law Enforcement Squad of the Ministry. It seems some higher power has decided to involve the MLES in these means of information transfer. I'm surprised we weren't some of the first, but that's Ministry functioning for you. It takes a ceasefire and weeks of doing nothing for someone to finally remember to finish something. And when they do get around to doing it, it's entirely without any instructions. It's fortunate I spent the better half of my seventeenth year typing up all my school assignments for my tutor on Father's typewriter, or else I'd really be lost on this thing.
There's not much to say at the moment that's of use to anyone. With negotiations going fast and furious, I haven't received any assignments in days, and prospects aren't looking good. There's not a real need for hitwizards when everything's coming up roses.
Speaking of which, Percy's window box of marigolds isn't exactly flourishing without his presence. I might be able to cook, but caring for anything other than myself -- or him -- puts me at a bit of a loss. Maybe I gave them too many SuperRoot sticks? Their edges are starting to blanch a little too much for my peace of mind. He'll kill me if he gets back and they're dead. Well, provided he does come back, but I'm not too worried. I'm sure he's fine, wherever he is. Sure of it.
Any day now.
|
|
| navigation |
| [ |
viewing |
| |
most recent entries |
] |
|
|
|
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif?v=88.8){kind=small}
surnameweasley's journal