The Devil's Stratagem

The Devil's Stratagem Chapter Two: Strange Findings

Life

Mysterious life

We're all moving around

Dancing the rhythm of life

Time

Mysterious time

We're all counting the hours and days

Till the end of all time

We're all feeling the change

And we don't know why

Choose one direction just one for time

Don't say I'm thinking too much

If you see what's behind

-Tina Cousins 'Mysterious Times'

***

Outside was peaceful and calm. The small suburb outside of London lay still, its people sleeping. Some were already up, but they were careful to show no signs of it. It was feared that a single noise would wake up the entire neighborhood. So, everyone moved like clockwork, whether they were up or not, moving to the same rhythm, acting upon the same impulses.

The sun began to peek out from behind the eastern hill, causing the hill to slightly sparkle with golden dew. Some woke up just to gaze outside at the natural feat. It was as a gift from God, the clouds painted with soft pinks and purples; blues reflecting far off from the picturesque sky.

A light ray of sun made it's way through the window curtains of a small flat. Dancing about the floor, it finally found the way up Ginny's bed and onto her closed eyelids. They fluttered open with the warm light shining upon them, but soon were blinked closed from being blinded by the sun. Raising her arm to cover her eyes, she rolled over onto the other side of the bed.

Her dark eyelids, covered from makeup of the night before which had been smudged in her sleep, opened and closed, not able to make up their mind whether or not to remain sleeping. Being deprived two hours of her usual nine wasn't giving her the best start to the day.

Her eyes closing, she fell back into a light sleep, a non-restful sleep. Tossing and turning for over an hour, she wasn't really sure if she even managed to go to sleep, though she really did. She grumbled in her state of in-between, a dribble of drool slipping out of her mouth and down her cheek.

"Ginny..." a quiet voice whispered, much like a sing song voice a mother reserves only for her children, beckoning Ginny to sit up in her bed. Ginny's eyes snapped open. Her hands grasped her sheets, pulling them into a ball in her hand she left the sheets a wrinkled mess around her fist. What was that? She inwardly gasped, looking around the room. Her eyes fell upon her open window.

Surely, it had to have been her imagination.

The satin curtains that were draped from the top of the window-frame flicked on and off her screen. The wind seemed to be playing with them, as it often did on cool fall mornings such as this. Taking in a deep breath, Ginny stepped out of bed, closing the window sharply.

A loud yawn escaped her lips, expressing the fatigue she really felt. Bringing her arms towards her head, she let them fly straight up above it, stretching her entire body. Moving from side to side, she began stretching everything from her toes to the tip of her head.

Feeling a bit refreshed; she stumbled into her kitchen. Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she grabbed her wand and pointed it at the coffeepot. Immediately the pot began to rumble and bubble, signaling that it was working on her morning brew. Placing her wand down on her counter, she walked into her study.

Seeing her cat lounging on the chair eased her mind. The tabby looked up as Ginny kicked some shoes that were left in the doorway to the side and then it let out a large yawn. Long teeth were shown as the cat's mouth opened, and a tiny squeak was let out before they closed. Ginny laughed, walking over to her cat. It seemed to burp as she came towards it, standing up as Ginny neared.

The tiny tabby's body moved with Ginny's hand, arching wherever its owner's hand went. Ginny smiled, marveling at what silly creatures cats could be. They were just like humans, doing what they wanted when they wanted to. No cat ever jumped because someone told it to, it jumped because it wanted to. They were headstrong creatures and could be quite irritating if they wanted, but then again so could everyone else.

Ginny was glad her cat was on the stupid side, though. This way, it would take orders from her most of the time. She looked towards the window, but saw that the curtains were still drawn. Getting up, she unfolded the blinds with a turn of her wrist.

Sunlight shone through the window, causing her cat to let out an annoyed 'meow' before dashing under the couch. She always was a creature of the night; Ginny thought, laughing, as she watched her cat's tail swish to and fro just outside the skirt of the sofa.

She got up absently and walked into the kitchen. Looking at the coffeepot, she saw that it still wasn't done. Cursing under her breath, she went back into her den. Not knowing what she wanted to do, she just stood there, looking out of place in her own home. Chewing on her bottom lip, she let her eyes rake over the colossal bookshelf that covered one of her walls entirely. About to approach it, a beeping noise brought her head around. The coffee was done.

Trotting into the kitchen, she opened one of her cupboards, picking out a rather large mug. Pressing the off button to the coffeemaker with one hand, she used the other to grab a spoon from one of her drawers. Throwing the spoon in the cup, she grabbed two sugar packets from the counter, ripping off the tops and spilling them inside the mug.

Returning to her morning brew, she took the pot off the burner, pouring a cupful into her mug. She picked up the cup, letting the aroma waif into her nostrils. Slowly, she walked to her refrigerator, careful not to spill any of the coffee.

She opened one door with her free hand, pulling out a jug of two-percent milk. Splashing just a tiny bit inside her cup, she placed the jug back into the refrigerator, closing it with her foot.

Walking to her patio door, she stopped momentarily to sip some of the coffee. It felt nice, the warmth soothing her throat. She could feel it traveling down inside her, making her feel more alive than she had last night. Letting out a soft murmur, she opened her porch door, stepping outside onto the tiny balcony.

A cool gust of wind whipped past her, causing her hair to rush up in the sudden wisp of wind. The wind subsided, letting her hair fall back to its place on her back. She sat down in her wicker chair, nursing her mug of coffee. Everyone was bustling about outside, dashing into their cars, getting back out to retrieve a forgotten briefcase or important paper. Others were just getting their children out of bed to get ready for school, the lights flicking on in dark rooms. Ginny smiled as she watched all of this; smiling because she knew that she liked what position she held in society.

Draining her mug, she staggered back inside, closing the glass door behind her. Throwing her cup in her sink with the rest of the dishes she had left last night, she ambled towards her bathroom.

Her bare feet slid slightly on the tile floor. Her arms flailed temporarily, but she stopped for a moment and gained her balance. Moving towards her bathtub, she pulled the towel that was hung from the side of the tub down, draping it neatly across the floor.

She sat on the edge of the tub, moving towards the faucet. Flipping the warm water one on, she turned back towards the mirror. Shrugging with a slight smile tickling her lips, she shed her clothes; not noticing that the hot water was steaming up the bathroom. Looking towards the tub, she carefully slipped one foot in.

The hot water caressed it with a searing warmth. Feeling pleased with the temperature, she placed the other foot in, sliding down the wall of the tub, into the basin of water. It covered her body lightly; tiny white bubbles of air forming themselves around her entire body. She felt as if she were being showered with pearls.

Smiling, she ducked her head under the water, letting the moisture engulf her hair. Upon coming back up for air, she closed her eyes, taking in the scent of the enchanted water of her tub. The fragrance seemed to make her sleepy, but she knew she had to hurry. She was most likely going to be late for work... again.

Grabbing the shampoo from the sill on her tub, she squeezed a fair sized blob into her hands. Working it carefully into her hair, she made sure not to miss any part of her scalp. Leaning her head backwards, she let the shampoo transfer from her hair to the water.

Sitting up abruptly, she took the conditioner, applying it to the ends of her hair. She didn't bother to rinse out the conditioner. She quickly washed her body, rinsed herself off and then let the water drain from the tub. Wrapping a towel around herself, she stepped onto the mat she had draped on the floor earlier. Swirling her feet on it, she dried them off, stepping onto the cold tile floor. A cold chill ran up her spine, causing her to shiver.

Grabbing a hair clip from her sink, she dashed into her bedroom. Dressing into her skirt suit, she bent over, wrapping her hair in the towel so she could plop it safely on her head. Running back into her bathroom, she quickly put eyeliner, mascara and eye shadow on her eyes, not even bothering with the rest of her face.

Removing the towel from her head, she draped it back onto the towel holder she had conveniently stored in a corner of the bathroom. Rushing back into her bedroom she saw that she was already a few minutes late to work.

Grumbling, she fluffed her pillows. Grabbing for her sheets, she began to pull them up, but stopped upon seeing a dark red stain, which held an uncanny resemblance to blood, on the side of her pillow. Eyes wide, she approached it, poking at it with her finger lightly as if she thought it would jump up and devour her if she touched it too hard. Unsurprisingly, it didn't jump out or devour her; but she let out a horrendous scream as if it actually had.

Memories of her dream flooded her mind; the woman slowly dying, the man screaming at the top of his lungs when he found the charm was gone, the cat and mouse game that they both had played equally slyly and cunningly. Shaking her head, she stepped backwards, her eyes dashing around her room.

Her eyes falling on the piece of paper that held the chilling phrase was too much for Ginny. Without a backward glance, she grabbed her wand and apparated to work.

***

A loud bang had signaled Ginny's arrival, causing a few of the early customers to jump up in their chairs. They looked around to see what had made the noise. Those who came often early in the mornings sighed, turning back to their books as if it were normal, which it was. Ginny usually was late.

The normal routine continued with Hermione's hurried footsteps echoing from down the hall of the little library. She bustled hurriedly past the section where books could be purchased and finally arrived where Ginny stood. She placed her hands on her hips, her bushy brown hair trying to wiggle its way out of the tight ponytail in which it was held.

"Well?" she hissed. Hermione's neatly pressed suit was a perfect reflection of herself. The beady black shoes showed her frustration as they tapped impatiently on the floor. Her blue collar peeked out from behind a shortened, black working robe, the ends of the powder blue shirt neatly tucked inside her skirt. A pair of glasses hung from a chain that was slung around her neck, the glasses themselves resting on the first buttoned buckle of her robe. Blinking furiously, obviously annoyed with Ginny's lack of explanation, she nodded her head towards her office.

The people in their chairs strained their neck to see what was going on since there was no verbalization. Ginny rolled her eyes, pulling her hair into a bun at the nape of her neck. Hermione's eyes narrowed.

"Hold your horses, I'm coming. Can't you wait for me to put my hair up?" Ginny snapped, walking briskly towards Hermione's office, not waiting for an answer; an answer which she already knew the response to by heart. She could tell the other girl was practically steaming as she walked ahead of her.

Hermione's office was the same as it usually was. All the papers were either filed away into one of her drawers or piled neatly on her desk. The desk itself sat directly in the middle of the cramped room, filing cabinets lining the walls. A computer sat on the right-hand corner of the desk, the monitor buzzing loudly. Ginny always did like the way Hermione mixed Muggle objects with magic.

Sitting down in the chair opposite of Hermione's desk, she made herself comfortable, crossing her legs at her ankles. Hermione slammed the door behind her as she followed Ginny inside. Trying to conceal her frustration, she sat herself stiffly into her chair.

Placing her glasses on the bridge of her nose, she folded her fingers so they made a platform for her chin to rest on. "Now Ginny," she sighed, closing her eyes to gain her composure. "I understand that it is not easy to get to work at seven o'clock in the morning, but if you want to keep this job, you're going to have to learn to adapt."

Ginny shot her a glazed glare. "Yes, yes, I know."

"Then why don't you comply with my simple plea of you getting to work on time?" Hermione asked, looking sternly at Ginny over the tops of her reading glasses. Ginny sat, motionless, in the chair, looking at the wastepaper basket that sat next to the nearest filing cabinet. Hermione took in a deep breath.

"I handed this job to you on a silver platter and made it so you have to practically do nothing all day, and you can't even do that? Merlin, Ginny! I would hate to see you out in the real world, competing head to head with other people for top jobs. Ron convinced me that you would actually work, and you're letting him down by not doing a damn thing around this place!" Her chest began to heave with anger, which doubled when she saw that Ginny wasn't even looking at her.

A low grumble escaped her lips. "You can't even look at me! You really are only twenty-one! God, you are such a child, I don't know why-" Hermione went off on a tangent, but was cut off by Ginny.

"Don't say the Lord's name in vain---" she paused, adding one word in at the last moment. "---Please."

"GOD! GOD! GOD! GOD! You do NOT correct your boss when you are this close," Hermione held her fingers up right before Ginny's eyes, her fingers about an inch apart. "To losing your job!" This got Ginny's attention.

"Losing my job?" she echoed, her eyes growing wide and watery, her voice faltering.

Hermione rolled her eyes, sitting back on her chair. "Yes, losing your job! I will not tolerate tardiness anymore; do you hear me? You have one chance left, Ginevra Molly Weasley, and it's only because your brother is my best friend."

Ginny whimpered, sparking a spot of sympathy in Hermione. "Just get to work, will you?" she asked, rubbing her temples. "There is not enough time in the day to yell at you and get all the work done around here."

Taking her dismissal, Ginny gave Hermione a reassuring smile before dashing outside to the store. Closing the door quietly behind her, she made her way to the book return cart. Examining the top shelf of books, she pushed it towards the fiction 'D' section.

Apparently, someone had looked at all of the books on Dolamitrus. Wasn't he a philosopher? Ginny asked herself, looking down at all the books. She found that every one was by this same author. That's odd... she thought, sitting down by a nearby table, pulling the cart next to her.

Taking out the first book, she read the title. A Philosophy of Religion, surely that was an odd book to check out of a magical library. Most witches and wizards were atheists. She took up the second book. What has Been Forgotten.

Opening the cover of the book, she saw many chapters, all on the Protestant religion. Furrowing her brow, she picked the third book from the cart The Importance of Ancient Gems. This particular book sparking her curiosity, she turned the cover over so that the book lay open on the oak table.

She stared at the title page for a moment, wondering if she really did want to start reading this. Was it really worth eliciting the memory of her dream from her mind; did she even want to know more about what happened? Something compelling her, something much like what had compelled her to keep writing in Tom's journal, made her turn the page.

She closed her eyes, remembering how that feeling felt. It was as if excitement and danger mixed themselves into one enthralling emotion. It was such a dirty kind of pleasure. Only, this was nothing like it was back then; wasn't it? Surely no form could be hiding in her dreams... no one could respond, so she would have to find out for herself; wouldn't she? Opening her eyes, she looked at the table of contents.

Her eyes were exposed to chapters upon chapters of multiple subjects that could help her in her discovery. Well, it's better to know... isn't it? She thought to herself, her gaze skimming past the insignificant chapters.

Crosses. The subject title caught her eye. Her honey orbs flew back to the text. Taking her finger, she traced it across the dotted line to the page number. Flipping to the page, she let herself begin to read the text.

As many Christians know, the cross is used to symbolize Jesus dying for our sins...

"Well, I already know that," she grumbled, her eyes skipping the paragraph altogether. She glanced at the next, which proved to me more significant; though it wasn't significant enough. Letting out a sigh, she flipped the page though she hadn't finished the first two.

Finding nothing important on the next few pages, she decided she would have to go through and read the entire chapter, just as a safety precaution of course. She blinked at the page, her head feeling enormously heavy. Straining her eyes to stay open, she began to read from the beginning.

As many Christians know, the cross is used to symbolize Jesus dying for our sins. To some, this is no new piece of knowledge, but others may not know and my editors and I thought it vital to include the history of the cross.

Some have worn crosses around their neck as a sign of their faith, but others look down upon it, surmising that if Jesus was drowned, the people would wear large tanks of water around their necks; which would be quite ridiculous in their opinions. (I would have to say I agree with them.) At any rate...

Ginny's heavy eyelids began to droop as an unusual, slumberous feeling began to overcome her. It was if something was trying to stop her from reading. Shaking her head, she forced her eyes to focus on the page.

Another use the cross holds is in its vitality to burials. When one dies, it is mostly custom to form a cross out of whatever material is available and place it over the grave. This is a sign of the dead person's religion and the respect of the people who buried them.

Figuring if she just placed her head on the inside of her elbow as a support it would help her focus, letting her eyes get closer to the text; gave her a chance to understand it better. Though, it did not help. It actually did the exact opposite. Her eyes began to blink and she only caught single phrases. Soon, she lay sound asleep, sitting at the table.

***

"Ginny!" A horrible voice, which belonged to Hermione, seemed to boom throughout the entire building. She could be heard stomping around, going through practically every aisle looking for the young redhead.

Ginny still sat at the table, her head folded onto her arms. Her chest slowly rose and then fell, signaling her peaceful slumber. Her mouth hung open on one side, a small line of spittle falling out of it and tracing a path down her chin and onto the table. It seemed as if she was not bothered by the ruckus Hermione was causing. She simply sat in slumber, her eyelids moving a bit to signal that her eyes were dashing about as most eyes do when people take on this pastime.

Ginny's hair spilled over her shoulders, her chair slowly inching away from the table because of her position. She seemed to be a bit strained; her entire body was now being stretched. Her bottom was on the chair, which was practically as far away from the table as it could get before she fell, and her arms seemed to be stretching to keep her top half on the table. So, it was a battle of her body, the top and bottom half were fighting for what they wanted.

Alas, the bottom won in the end. With a horrible crash, Ginny fell to the floor. Her eyes instantly snapped open and she finally heard Hermione's hurried stomps over to where she made the noise. Oh, bullocks... she inwardly cursed.

Scrambling to her feet, she picked the book she had been reading up and sadly placed it into the return cart. Taking in the title, she swore she would find it again and read it. A small tutting came from the end of the aisle. Ginny groaned, turning around.

It was Hermione. "What in the name of Merlin have you been doing, Ginny?"

"I- er- I was... um, reading." Ginny blushed, looking down at her shoes. She just happened to leave out the whole sleeping part, but she didn't think it could hurt anything, unless Hermione already knew. Ginny's eyes grew wide and her body tensed. But, she doesn't know. She was stomping around, looking for you. Ginny's body relaxed again.

Hermione cocked her eyebrow. "I would love to know what's running through your mind right now." She paused to laugh. "But I really can't indulge myself in your lovely life at the moment. I, unlike other employees here, have a job to do." She shot a meaningful glare at Ginny.

Ginny kept looking at her shoes bashfully. "I'm sorry..." Ginny looked up. "I really am, but this book was just amazing, and-"

Hermione cut her off. "So, I suppose your book was so good you just tuned out everything else then?"

"Huh?" was Ginny's only response.

"I have been looking for you for over the past half hour, shouting and screaming and I even scared a few of our customers out." Ginny snorted with laughter, but went quiet as soon as Hermione's icy glare was shot her way. The brunette continued with her lecture. "I don't like it when workers do not respond to their boss. I already gave you your last warning, Ginny, don't make me cut you off completely."

"Yes, ma'am."

Hermione began to walk away, but Ginny stopped her. "Wait!"

"Yes?" Hermione drawled, her eyes glazing over with something that seemed like boredom.

"What did you want?" The redhead half giggled as she asked the question.

Hermione blushed. "Nothing, it's not important now."

Ginny laughed. "You're lying!"

"Look, it's nothing, okay?" Hermione turned to walk away, but stopped upon hearing Ginny's voice.

"Pish tosh it's nothing!"

For a second time that day, Ginny received Hermione's icy glare. Deciding it would be best if she dropped the subject and just retired from the conversation altogether, she turned to the cart. She could hear Hermione walking away, and slowly, she became eased.

Looking at the bottom row of books, she spotted an author with a last name beginning with L. She began to push the cart over to the 'L' section, where that particular book belonged. She was a bit glad; all of the books currently on the cart were in the nonfiction, west wing. Today would be quite dull-drum, she decided, stopping at the beginning of the 'L' aisle. She picked up one book, and began to search for its correct spot on the right hand shelf.

This continued for quite some time, her randomly picking up books and placing them in the right spot. Getting tired of jumping from section to section, she made sure no one was watching, and alphabetized the books in the cart. From the top down it ran 'A's to 'Z's.

Feeling less exhausted, the simple thought of not running as much seemed to soothe her, she bustled about the 'A' section. She placed the few 'A' books back in their proper place and afterwards she moved onto the 'B' section. So, the cycle went until she was all the way at the end with all of the 'Z's.

She took the last book from the cart, placing it in-between Zabini and Zicak. Turning back to her cart, she prepared to push it back to the front desk, but stopped upon seeing four new books lying messily on the top portion. It looked as if someone just clumsily tossed them in, only to run off and get more.

Quietly she growled, looking around to see if the person was anywhere near by. She was sure to give them a piece of their mind if they were still lingering. Alas, they had disappeared from her sight.

Now, she knew it was her job to return books to their rightful place, but it still aggravated her. Picking up one of the four, she returned it to its rightful place in bookshelf. She did the same with the other three, and when she turned again to the cart to put it back at the front desk she found five more books lying on side basket of the cart.

Her eyes grew wide. Couldn't the person have just put them back themselves if they were still in the aisle looking for whatever it was that they wanted? Grumbling and not caring, she began to push the cart back to the front desk.

She knew it was against the rules to return a cart still holding books to the front desk, but she convinced herself it didn't matter. After all, she could always come back and return them on her next run. Making sure the coast was clear, she emerged from the bookshelves, making her way towards the front desk.

All of a sudden she heard that familiar tutting and her name. She turned around and cringed as she saw Hermione. She knew she was in trouble.