
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/10018661.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Major_Character_Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage, Graphic_Depictions_Of
      Violence
  Category:
      Gen, F/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Harry_Potter/Ginny_Weasley
  Character:
      Ginny_Weasley, Other(s), Severus_Snape, Albus_Dumbledore, Original
      Character, Tom_Riddle, Voldemort
  Additional Tags:
      Explicit_Language, Heterosexual_Sex, Slash_sex, Drug_Use, Out_of
      Character, Sexual_Content, Spoilers, Action/Adventure, Alternate
      Universe, Angst, Tragedy, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Mystery, Suspense, Romance
  Collections:
      HPFandom
  Stats:
      Published: 2009-01-12 Words: 10069
****** Welcome to My Truth ******
by Calistabelle [archived by HPFandom_archivist]
Summary
     Voldemort has won. Everything, even hope, is lost. But when Ginny
     finds herself thrust back in time and comes face-to-face with sixteen
     year old Tom Riddle it seems the world is being given another chance.
     HBP compliant-ish. GW/TR. Mentions of GW/HP and non-con TR/OC.
Notes
     Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally
     archived at HP_Fandom, which was closed for health and financial
     reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its
     works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I
     e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but
     may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator,
     please contact me using the e-mail address on HP_Fandom_collection
     profile.
Got an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other
And it’s his good advice that I take.
I live with a sprinkle of a little sin
When the world is asleep I'm awake.
With the roll of my dirty dice
I'm only following the devil's advice.
I'll take your love and leave my kind regards,
But I never cheat at cards.
So you really think you're leading
When we tango across the floor.
It's only ‘cause my feet are out of sight.
Mine is the hand that spins you round,
Then it pushes you out into the night.
With the roll of my dirty dice,
I'm only following the devil's advice.
I'll take your love and leave my kind regards,
But I never cheat at cards.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter ™ belongs to JKR and WB. Song, Dirty Dice, ©Katie
Melua
1:_Knowing_the_Enemy
‘Ginny, love,’ Harry whispered through cracked lips, his fingers – so gnarled
from being broken so many times – came to her face and brushed her cheek ever
so lightly, causing her eyes to flicker shut in remembrance of so long ago when
he would cup her face and kiss her until up was down and lights flickered and
sparkled like fireworks in her head. No kiss tonight though. Kisses are brought
by hope, however desperate – and there was none. There was nothing left.
‘Tomorrow – they’ll finish me tomorrow, love,’ he croaked, so long since his
voice had been used for anything but screaming.
Ginny nodded silently. Her heart still shouted that it was wrong, wrong, wrong,
but there was no point saying it; there was nothing they could do.
‘When they take me… remember that I love you. When I die in shame, please try
and think the best of me,’ Harry continued. ‘I did my best. But, there were so
many, and my wand – oh Gods, my wand!’
‘Shh, Harry,’ Ginny said, pulling his broken body so she had him cradled on her
lap. ‘You did everything. Face your death with pride – do you remember what
Dumbledore used to say? Death is just another great adventure.’
‘I don’t want another adventure, Gin. I want my peace. I want my family and my
friends and I want to be happy again. How long is it since we were happy?’
Harry asked, not needing an answer.
They both knew exactly when the last time they’d been happy was. It was the
last night of the summer holidays and Ginny was heading back for her seventh
year, whilst Harry was off with Ron and Hermione to confer with the Order and
come up with a better strategy for the defeat of Voldemort. Harry had tried
pushing Ginny away, but when he broke down after the deaths of Lupin, Tonks and
they’re brand new baby Ginny had been there to pick up the pieces and set him
on his feet again. She was his rock as he was her knight in shining armour.
That summer had been full of delicious kisses and promises sealed with one
night – one night – of beautiful love making, waking the next day to dusky
light and complete bliss.
But the spell was broken minutes later when Ron hurtled into their room and
announced the Death Eaters were at the Burrow. That they’d killed Molly and
were fighting Arthur and they had to run, run, run. Things had quickly got
worse. Ginny, Harry, Ron and Hermione managed to escape with no more than two
broken bones between them, but it soon became clear that it was not an isolated
attack. The Order had taken too long in indecision and Voldemort had played his
hand.
One week. That was all it took for everyone’s hopes – so high for success to be
squashed beneath the heel of a twisted shell of a man whose very name was
feared. So many died. The Hogwarts professors all fought until the very
gruesome end. The Order members fought fiercely and passionately, but their
forces were split and unprepared. There was nothing anyone could do. By the end
of a very bloody week the remaining Order members were rounded up and
ceremoniously tortured to the brink of insanity until Voldemort gave in to
their pleading cries of death.
It had taken him another month to find Harry and his friends. They fought like
they never fought before, but they were surrounded and outnumbered. Harry’s
wand was snapped soon into the battle, rendering him almost useless. Ron and
Hermione had been killed proudly, staring defiantly into the blood red eyes of
their nemesis as he screamed the killing curse at them. They had died together
in each others arms. Of that, at least, Harry was thankful.
Ginny and Harry had been taken and thrown into a dingy cell with next to no
light and the constant dripping of water. Everyday Harry was dragged from the
cell and tortured for more information, before being thrown back into the cell.
Ginny simply had to watch and wait and help clean away the blood, knowing that
this was her torture. There was no more information to give. Everyone was dead.
Even poor, naïve little Colin Creevey, whose infatuation with Harry Potter had
lead him to be one of the first to die.
The days had taken on a dull, pain-filled, monotonous feel to them, neither
Ginny nor Harry caring much anymore. They were too hurt to hurt anymore. They
started off by counting the days until some unknown hero would rescue them, but
that too just added to the pain. There was no hero – Harry was the hero and he
had nothing left to give.
The night fell with no more than the cell falling into absolute dark, rather
than the relative blackness that stated daytime. Ginny huddled against the
wall, rocking Harry like a baby until he fell asleep in her arms. He couldn’t
move on his own anymore – it pained him to even talk – so Ginny did everything
she could to help him. She listened to the dripping of the water as it steadily
pounded against the floor, a timer leading down to Harry’s death.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Ginny rubbed Harry’s boney back, feeling the knots and discrepancies in the
back of his ribs, even as her own thin back scraped harshly against the wall.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
How long was it since they last ate? How long was it since Ginny had last seen
the light of day? How long would it be until the inevitable fell upon them and
crushed them into sweet, dark oblivion?
Drip. Drip. Drip.
So much waste. Ginny wished she could have had children and seen their bright
green eyes and curly red locks – their chocolate brown eyes and messy black
hair. How wonderful it would have been to have a little bit of her and a little
bit of Harry to cuddle to sleep every night. She wished she could have seen
them grow up, picked them up when they fell, cheer their successes, watch as
they grew and had children of their own in a perfect world where Voldemort
didn’t exist and the only between her and happiness was which way she should
express it.
The door was slammed open and Harry was torn from her unresisting arms. Once
she would have held on and fought for him. There was no point anymore – there
was too little of Harry to fight for. Too little of herself to fight. She
listened to the steady dripping as Harry’s faint whimpering and the harsh
footsteps faded from hearing. Then there was silence. Long, deadly silence,
until…
Harsh keening shouts started up, leering screams of joy as the boy-who-lived
died. Ginny nodded silently and spared a tear for Harry Potter, the love of her
life, the saviour of the wizarding world who hadn’t saved it enough. She let
the tear run and fall to the floor, the final drip before she too was dragged
from the room.
She felt the thin cloth of her shirt tear, but she could stand on her own and
did not fall. As she looked with what little defiance she had left at the Death
Eater shock coursed through her – she recognised those eyes. Severus Snape
thrust something around her neck, telling her only to turn it once and no more
when the time came. She had thought he was dead along with the rest of the
Order. Obviously he had never been the spy they all presumed – but then why was
he doing this? What was it?
Not having time to ask her questions and knowing that they wouldn’t have been
answered anyway, Ginny was shoved up rough stone steps into bright light. At
least, it was brighter than any she had seen for so long. She was pushed
forward and she stumbled slightly, but managed to catch herself before she
fell, looking up into the hard, cold eyes of a twisted snake of a man who
returned her gaze with cool indifference, though she could see the dark flash
of triumph in the back of them.
‘Ginevra Molly Weasley,’ he said calmly to her, hissing over the ‘s’ in her
sirname. ‘The last of the blood traitors.’
‘Tom Marvolo Riddle,’ Ginny bit back. ‘The leader of the extremist loonies.’
Voldemort, to Ginny’s surprised, merely cackled in response. ‘Ah, but at least
I won.’
Ginny found the last of her dignity and lifted her head high, her chin held up
in desperate defiance as she slowly revolved on the spot to look each and every
member in the eye. Some she recognised – the Malfoys, Greyback, Nott Jr – some
she did not, and though they would never admit to it, in their very heart of
hearts they were scared of this red headed girl.
Ginny saved Snape until last and when she looked, finally, into his eyes they
blinked stoically back at her, though one stretched slightly as though, beneath
his mask, Snape was raising a thin eyebrow at her, daring her not to trust him.
When the youngest and only remaining Weasley turned to face Voldemort she
sighed tiredly, lowering her head as if in admission.
Her hand came up to her neck and ducked under the material of her blouse,
causing several wolf whistles to pierce the air. Ginny withdrew her hand,
holding the pendant easily between finger and thumb. She took a long look at
it, recognising its significance, a slow, vindictive smirk creeping across her
face. Ginny looked up into Voldemort’s eyes.
‘Not yet,’ she said, and flipped it once.
Then the world was devoured by oblivion.
__
 
Ginny was lying on something fairly hard, but with a fairly spongy covering.
She wondered what it was for a while before deciding she didn’t care. She was
hungry, tired and her whole body ached. It would be so easy to slip into an
endless sleep that you couldn’t wake up from. But that was OK; Ginny didn’t
really feel like she wanted to wake up.
Then someone screamed.
It was a very annoying noise, Ginny decided, screwing up her features as she
tried in vain to block out the noise. Moments later it stopped, but it was
replaced by a blubbering, fidgety sort of explanation that was just as
annoying, though it was, thankfully, lower-pitched.
‘What is it Wilson?’ A brisk, no nonsense sort of voice asked impatiently.
‘O-over there! Behind th-the bushes!’
Ginny heard an irritated sigh and felt she could empathise for the sigher
completely. ‘You better not be having me on, or you’ll be cleaning the toilets
all week next week as well.’
The screamer gave a squeal and Ginny felt like swearing at him. She held her
tongue, however, when she heard the rustle of a bush being parted and choking
gasp was heard. Ginny opened her eyes slowly, with much reluctance, to find a
shocked Hufflepuff staring down at her, his bright yellow hair matching the
prefect badge glittering on his chest.
‘Who… who are you?’
‘In fucking pain,’ Ginny groused, her voice somehow fairly steady, though a
little thick.
‘Of course,’ the boy said, before spinning around and ordering the other boy to
go and get Professor Dumbledore. ‘Are you going to be all right?’ he asked
tentatively.
Ginny glared at him, not moving from her fairly comfortable position on the
grass. ‘No,’ she answered bluntly.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘A lot of things, none of which I want to tell you,’ she huffed.
‘Oh great,’ the boy moaned. ‘You’re another one of those pissy Slytherins,
aren’t you? So high and mighty on your soapboxes, looking down on the rest of
the world –’
‘How the Hell am I supposed to look down at you when I’m lying on the floor,’
Ginny spat back distastefully.
‘Now, now dear, there’s no need for that kind of language,’ a familiar but
infinitely less tired voice said from behind the Hufflepuff.
Ginny rolled her eyes and tried to sit up, now that Dumbledore was here,
inadvertently groaning as she did so.
‘Don’t move,’ the professor, looking less tired, and old, said gently.
‘I feel a lot better now than I did this morning,’ Ginny said scornfully. ‘I
think I can handle this.’
Dumbledore frowned, watching as she hefted herself to her feet. ‘What
happened?’
‘A lot.’ Ginny replied. ‘Professor, can we talk somewhere private?’ she asked
with a significant look at the two boys, who were watching her with unmasked
curiosity.
‘First I think you need to visit Headmaster Dippet.’
‘No.’ Ginny stopped him. Normally she never would have talked to Dumbledore
this way – respect for the dead and all that – but she had been through a lot
since than and she needed to tell someone she could trust. ‘I need to talk to
you alone.’
‘You know me?’
Ginny snorted in disbelief. Even in this time – whenever it was – Dumbledore
would still be well known. ‘Who doesn’t know you?’
The professor stood a long minute, contemplating, before his eyes twinkled and
he said wryly, ‘I’m sure the rules can be bent a little.’
‘Trust me, they’ll be bent more than a little,’ Ginny muttered under her breath
as she followed him towards the castle. With his back turned to her Ginny did
not see the momentary concern flash across his features as he heard, clearly,
what she had said with the spooky advanced hearing of a good teacher.
Ginny looked up at Hogwarts with a strong sense of nostalgia for the old days,
when things had been normal. But, then, things had never been normal. Her first
year at Hogwarts she had been ensnared by the diary of Tom Riddle and trapped
in the Chamber of Secrets. Her second year the ‘notorious’ Sirius Black was on
the loose and infiltrated the Gryffindor common rooms. Third year heralded the
Triwizard Tournament and the return of Voldemort. Fourth year she and a group
of other students went into the ministry and fought against Voldemort and his
Death Eaters. Fifth Year saw the death of Dumbledore and the first of many
attacks on Hogwarts. Sixth year had been the year of death and reconciliations.
Seventh year she had been thrown into a cell and watched as the love of her
life was tortured daily. No, she had never quite known normal.
But, in between the tragedies and the adventures there had been laughter and
love and quidditch and butterbeer and Hogsmeade visits and Christmases and
Birthdays and even a wedding or two. When she looked up at the castle it was
not the deaths she was reminded of, but family and friends and all of the good
times.
Dumbledore watched the girl’s face with interest. Though she seemed barely
sixteen years old her eyes had a depth of sorrow to them that he had not seen
since that morning when he had looked at himself in the mirror and let his mask
slip – just a little – as he remembered his long dead sister. She walked like
the weight of the world was on her shoulders and her form seemed so frail, so
weak that it seemed impossible that she might stand for longer than a second
before her grief carried her down a road of no return.
As Ginny stepped into the Entrance Hall she paused momentarily, closing her
eyes and just breathing in the smell of magic that was purely Hogwarts. She had
never hoped to see this place again, never hoped to see sunlight or clouds or
her friends ever again. At that Ginny caught herself. She never would see her
friends again.
‘Professor?’ she asked quietly as she followed him to the transfiguration
classrooms.
‘Yes?’
‘What year is it?’
Dumbledore’s head snapped round and he stared at her intently for a moment, his
bright blue eyes trying to pierce through her, but for Ginny occulumency had
become second nature – she barely realised she had brought up her barriers
until she felt his push.
‘Tell me,’ Ginny said on a sigh, now having to concentrate to keep him out of
her mind.
‘1943,’ Dumbledore said, backing slowly away from her mental barriers. ‘Where
did you learn skills like that?’
‘If you will allow me to explain, professor, and I will tell you everything.’
The old man nodded slowly, sitting at his desk and offering Ginny one of the
students’ chairs. After all that had happened so far, and the thin tiredness of
the girl before him Dumbledore found he was more disturbed than surprised when
Ginny placed several warding and silencing charms around the two of them before
proceeding with her explanation.
‘I’m from the future. I’ve been sent back over fifty years-’ at that Ginny
stopped, her eyes wide with surprise and realisation. A breath passed her lips,
before she turned back to her monologue. ‘Sent back to, well, I’m not sure yet,
but it involves Riddle. He – you’re right professor. Riddle becomes powerful,
very powerful. You fought, we all did, but in the end he was too powerful.’
Ginny let out a long, shuddering breath. ‘I’m the only one left. They all died,
everyone, and I can’t let that happen again.
‘I know that meddling with time is dangerous and messy. A very clever friend
once used it for almost a year to do lots of extra lessons, but all she ever
did was learn. I’m back to change all of history.’
‘You can’t do that,’ Dumbledore said without his usual preamble.
Ginny swept around to face him, tears rolling heatedly down her face, her lanky
red hair clinging to the damp. ‘Don’t you get it? They died! All of them! Every
single family member and friend. Every last remainder of what was good and
right in the world was tortured and killed, the very best of whom tortured
daily for information that didn’t exist! And I watched. I was forced to watch
and listen as he screamed and screamed and when the sadistic bastard finally
killed him I listened to their laughter and glee.’ Ginny collapsed to the
floor, holding her head in her hands. A hoarse whisper floated from her lips,
‘you have to help me.’
__
 
It was the first day back after the Christmas Holidays and the crowd pouring in
to the Great Hall were as rambunctious and excited as ever, but that did not
stop a confused, quieting thrill run through the students at they saw the
Sorting Hat and its stool lying, calm as you please, before the High Table, the
teachers watching with curiosity at how the students would react.
Once everyone was finally seated Headmaster Dippet stood to address the hall.
‘Welcome back, everyone. I am pleased to announce we have a new student joining
us from Egypt to spend the rest of her school career here. If you would all
like to give a warm welcome to Miss Ginevra Craigson.’
Ginny stepped forward from where she had been hiding in the shadows behind the
teachers’ table and was greeted by a warm, if hesitant, round of applause.
‘I’m sure you all have questions for her, but Miss Craigson has suffered a
great loss in the past month and I ask you to refrain from inquiring after her
past until such time that she is comfortable to talk about it,’ Dippet
continued. ‘Miss, Craigson, if you will,’ he said, gesturing to the hat.
Ginny nodded, a slight half smile on her face. As if she didn’t already know
where she was going to go. She had tried to talk the Headmaster and Dumbledore
out of doing the Sorting Ceremony, but they had insisted that if they were
playing her game, she would play by their rules. Ginny lifted the hat and sat
down, placing it comfortably on her honey red hair.
‘Ah, I know you! I haven’t sorted you yet, but you have been sorted by me,’ the
Hat told her as if it was a completely normal occurrence. ‘Oh no, not
completely normal, just more frequent than you’d think,’ the Hat corrected her.
‘Now, where do we put you? You still have your Gryffindor characteristics, but
there is more there. You have suffered a lot, but I think you will thrive in
this time. I think… yes, you shall be… SLYTHERIN!’ It shouted.
Ginny felt the shock reverberate down her spine to her very toes, but the
immaculate, half-smile mask didn’t falter. Maybe she was more Slytherin than
she realised. Ginny stood and placed the Hat carefully back down before heading
to the table of clapping green-robed students. Her eyes swept down the table
and, sure enough, found the eerily familiar face of Tom Riddle, inspecting her
blankly. He, too, was in sixth year and as his eyes met hers the other side of
her mouth curved up and she slid into a spot opposite him.
‘Hi,’ she said pleasantly, turning to look each of her new classmates in the
eye. ‘I’m Ginny.’
‘That’s a very… muggle name,’ the boy sat next to her sneered.
Ginny arched an eyebrow at him, chocolate eyes cold and hard. ‘Why, what’s
yours?’
‘Theodore Grant.’
‘Huh, funny that,’ Ginny said, turning away from him to pick a chicken leg from
the dishes that had appeared.
‘Hows my name funny?’ Grant hissed at her.
‘Last Theodore I knew, his father was a werewolf, his mother a blood traitor of
the worst sort with shocking pink hair,’ Ginny silently apologised to Tonks,
whose hair she had greatly admired, when she grimaced in faked disgust. ‘And
the one before that, well. He was Muggle and died pleading for forgiveness.’
Again, Ginny apologised to whatever Gods there might be that Teddy Jr. and Sr.
would forgive her.
‘And that is why you don’t spite new girls, Ted,’ a girl with dark brown hair
said, her ebony eyes sparkling with glee. ‘I’ve been trying to find a suitable
insult to throw at him all day! I’m Eileen Prince, by the way.’ The girl
introduced herself, thrusting a hand towards Ginny, who shook it easily enough.
‘Ted here is OK, once you get to know him. But damn is he annoying.’
‘You love me for it,’ the black haired boy drawled.
‘Yeah… unluckily for me,’ Eileen said, rolling her eyes. ‘This is Yuna,
Francis, David, Henrietta, Katrina, Marisse, Georgia and, of course, Tom.’
Ginny glanced round at the other sixth years, memorising each face as their
name was being said. She didn’t recognise any of them, except, perhaps, Eileen,
whose eyes Ginny remembered from somewhere, but then Voldemort did not become
powerful for a long time after he left school.
Each of the sixth years nodded or offered a hand, except for Riddle.
‘Who are you?’ he asked once the introductions were over, his voice exactly as
Ginny remembered it.
‘Ginevra Craigson.’
‘That isn’t your real name.’
‘Why would you think that?’
‘It doesn’t suit you.’
‘Should I be flattered or pissed off?’
‘Pissed off,’ Riddle said with a quirk of his lips.
‘Good, because I am,’ Ginny replied icily, even as a chill of a different sort
ran down her spine, making her hair stand on end.
‘And yet you haven’t exploded.’
Ginny sniggered then, glancing across the hall to the Gryffindor table where
she could see red hair so similar to hers among the varying shades of brown and
black. ‘I may look like a Weasley, doesn’t mean I act like one.’
Her fellow sixth years all smirked in appreciation, each of them absorbed by
the conversation, even as they pretended not to be.
‘You know the Weasleys?’ Riddle prompted, ignoring the implications of what she
had said.
‘There are so many of them it’s hard not to know the Weasleys.’
Again Ginny was rewarded with a few more smirks.
‘Even in Egypt?’
Ginny sat back suddenly, aware that she had been leaning across the table
towards Riddle as he had been leaning towards her. ‘There’s a lot I don’t know,
Tom Riddle, but when one decides to arrive in a country with a political
climate such as this one, even I am not stupid enough not to delve a little
deeper into who has the power and who does not.’
‘Bravo!’ Eileen said, effectively shutting Riddle up. ‘Tom often decides to go
into inquisitorial mode, but for a newbie that was good.’
Riddle inclined his head to Ginny, who merely blinked impassively back at him.
‘I may be a newbie with Riddle, here, but after the hours of stewing I got from
Dumbledore and Dippet, you could say I had practise,’ she said ruefully to
Eileen.
‘And after he told us all not to ask you too much,’ one of the other girls,
Henrietta, said, shaking her head.
‘Am I allowed to eat now?’ Ginny asked plaintively, causing several other
sniggers. Not waiting for a reply, Ginny dug in, thinking a lot about the
previous week. Dumbledore had not asked for a lot of details and had
specifically not asked for her sirname, but when he talked to the Headmaster,
both he and Dippet had agreed it would be for the better if Ginny was
introduced to the school at the Christmas feast and should be kept secluded
until then.
Ginny had spent a lot of time reading. Someone had gone to Hogsmeade or Diagon
Alley to get the books she needed and she’d been snuck out to get a wand, but
other than that nothing exciting had happened. Ginny refused to take off the
time turner, which had annoyed the two professors, but they said nothing. Ginny
had spent a while practising with her new wand, but this one was better than
her old one so she had next to no difficulty in wielding it, so she had,
indeed, immersed herself in the current political state of affairs, chuckling
to herself when it seemed this Minister – Crawley – seemed to fudge things up
worse than Fudge.
Now Ginny looked at the faces around her and wondered if any of them would get
out of this alive. She watched Eileen Prince with a growing sense of dread. The
more she saw those eyes the more she remembered the eyes that had given her the
time turner – the black eyes that had dared her not to try it. And Ginny knew
what happened to Severus Snape’s mother. Beaten to death by her abusive muggle
partner. Not a pretty ending. But Ginny was here to change things. She only
hoped she could change that fact too.
__
 
Ginny woke very early the next morning, the sunlight from the magicked windows
cutting through her sleep and unceremoniously dumping her in consciousness. She
rolled out of bed and stretched like a cat in the sunshine before heading in to
the showers. It felt wonderful to be clean again, to be able to wash away the
months of blood and grime from her skin. Ginny found herself humming a nonsense
song of her childhood as the water droplets slashed over her. Better not to
think about the dripping.
Changing quickly Ginny went to her bed and drew back the curtains completely,
pulling a book from her bedside table she set it before her as she started
brushing her hair, tugging at the unforgiving knots. Her night had once again
been ravished by nightmares, but it was alright – it was OK because they
weren’t real anymore. When she saw Harry’s broken face pleading up at her to
stop the pain it wasn’t real anymore. Not like it had been a week ago.
The other girls roused themselves later, not saying much to each other except
quiet ‘good morning’s. Together the six of them headed down to breakfast,
conversation slowly creeping up on them in a familiar way.
‘So, Ginny,’ Katrina, a petite, mousy-brown haired girl started. ‘What’s it
like in Egypt?’
‘Hot,’ Ginny replied. ‘Especially when you get friendly with the dragons,’ she
added quietly, thinking of the trips she’d had when she went to see her older
brother.
‘You’re friends with dragons?’
Ginny chuckled at this, determined not to be pulled down into misery with old
memories. ‘Well, ‘friends’ is pushing it a bit, but we lived quite close to a
small colony and they accepted our presence as we did theirs. They just got a
little over-excited sometimes and accidentally almost burned the village down.’
This story was true – there was indeed a village that fairly peacefully
coexisted with dragons – Ginny had simply never been there.
The other girls accepted this and conversation soon turned to lighter topics –
such as what they’d be having for breakfast. Ginny grinned along with them,
pleasantly surprised when Eileen looped an arm through hers, a clear offering
of friendship. As the six girls walked into the Hall every eye turned to them,
though heads soon turned away.
‘I love the fact everyone still notices our grand entrances, even after over
five years here,’ Yuna said, her English accent sounding slightly awkward
coming from her dark, almost black, skin. ‘I mean, I know we’re perfect, but
still.’
The other girls smirked at her comment and they headed to the Slytherin table,
Eileen’s arm in Ginny’s stopping her slight falter when she headed to the
‘wrong’ side of the hall. Settling into the same place as the night before
Ginny helped herself to food, with a cheery good morning to the sixth year
boys, all of whom had already arrived. She could feel Riddle’s gaze boring into
her as she ate and talked, but ignored it for the most part, only sparing him a
glance or two throughout the meal.
The post arrived later than what Ginny was used to, but when Dumbledore handed
her her new timetable Ginny saw that the first lesson started later than it did
in the future. She also couldn’t help but notice that she and Riddle were the
only Slytherins not to receive something in the post.
A dignified little snort coming from next to her, caused Ginny to glance at
Theodore in curiosity, but he only waved a hand vaguely and set the newspaper
in front of her.
LATE ARRIVAL
For the first time in two centuries Hogwarts has accepted a student not only
halfway through the year, but also halfway through the training.
Ginevra Craigson, aged 16, joined Slytherin sixth years last night after an
impromptu Sorting Ceremony.
Ginny rolled her eyes and passed the paper back, not bothering to read anymore.
‘Honestly, the ministry is corrupt, a raid on a muggle club left fifteen dead,
including one of our own, and what do they put on the front page? A sixteen
year old Hogwarts student.’
‘Why the emphasis on your age?’ Yuna’s twin brother, Matisse, asked.
‘No reason,’ Ginny said, averting her eyes as she realised her slip up. She was
actually 17, and should by rights be in seventh year, but Ginny had been placed
in sixth year at her own request.
Eileen seemed to notice Ginny’s sudden moroseness and rubbed her shoulder
sympathetically. ‘What happened? she asked.
‘I don’t – I’d prefer not to say,’ Ginny said, raising her head slowly.
‘Of course, I’m sorry.’
‘No, it’s not your fault.’ At that Ginny looked directly into Riddle’s eyes. It
wasn’t Eileen’s fault, it was his fault.
Riddle only stared stoically back at her.
‘So what lessons do you have – what are you taking?’ Eileen asked, clearly
trying to change the subject.
‘Nothing exciting, Charms, Transfiguration, Defence, Potions and, uh, a couple
of private lessons.’ Her words caused several eyebrows to shoot up and Ginny
knew what they were thinking. They thought that she needed extra lessons to
catch up on the work of the others. Little did they know that these extra
classes were so that she didn’t become bored covering the lessons she’d already
taken last year.
‘Don’t worry, Ginny, I’ll help you,’ Georgia piped up, her square glasses
sliding down her nose before she pushed them back up.
‘Careful, Wright,’ Riddle spoke up, still staring at Ginny. ‘Craigson here may
be helping you later this year instead.’
Georgia’s mouth formed a small ‘o’ as she and the other Slytherins realised the
implications of Riddle’s words. Ginny smirked complacently at them for a moment
as Georgia asked the question everyone seemed to want to, ‘are you taking
advanced classes?’
Ginny contemplated for a moment before telling them, ‘this past term that
you’ve all been snug at Hogwarts I’ve not exactly been curled up asleep.’ And
that was all she would say on the topic, despite further questions.
As breakfast ended and the hall started to lose its students Riddle once again
spoke directly to Ginny. ‘What do you have first?’
‘Charms,’ she replied shortly.
‘Let me show you the way.’
Ginny inclined her head and allowed Riddle to lead her through corridors she
probably knew better than he. The trip was short and wordless and the tension
between the two of them was palpable. Just before they arrived at the Charms
classroom Riddle pushed Ginny suddenly into an alcove, trapping her between the
wall and himself.
‘Who are you Ginevra Craigson?’ he whispered forcefully in her ear.
‘Who are you, Tom Riddle?’ she replied with power to match his.
He said nothing, but his mind crushed against hers, trying to break down the
walls that she had spent so long building. But Ginny rose up to meet him,
attacking him as he attacked her. The thing was, Riddle had no real practise
and Ginny – well, Ginny had been dating the Boy-Who-Lived, whose mental
barriers had defended off Voldemort at the height of his supremacy.
Ginny found herself hurtling into one of Riddle’s memories – it was at the
orphanage and he only looked a couple of years younger than he was now, so it
must have been over the summer holidays. Riddle was curled up in a tiny room,
rocking slowly back and forth as the tears ran down his cheeks and blood ran
down his back.
Wrenching herself back Ginny looked up into the horrified eyes of Tom Riddle –
his cool façade and flawless mask momentarily forgotten.
‘Who are you?’ he asked again, his voice slightly hoarse.
Ginny found herself drawn to this tall, handsome young man as she had been in
her first year at Hogwarts with his damnable diary. She had to remind herself
that Hagrid was still at the school, which meant that it had not been written
yet – the Chamber of Secrets had not yet been opened. Her hand shook slightly
as she raised it to his face, as if to cup his cheek, though they did not
touch.
‘Very much lost and alone,’ she said, then dropped her hand, fingers lightly
grazing his jaw bone. She felt a shot of electricity run up her arm, but chose
to ignore it in favour of moving past him and entering the Charms classroom.
Riddle span round in time to see the door close behind her, his mind flickering
furiously from thought to thought as he tried to fathom just who exactly this
girl was, for she was a better leglimens than himself and that scared him.
There were memories and thoughts and knowledge that were too dangerous to fall
in to enemy hands. That memory she had seen… Riddle shuddered as he imagined
what she might tell others. There was nothing he could do, for she was sure to
want to know more now. But maybe…
A wicked grin played across Riddle’s lips before his mask fell back in place
and he stalked through the corridors to his lesson.
__
 
Ginny gazed at the teacher, incredulity written across her face.
‘You want me to prove I can do a successful cheering charm,’ she said.
‘Yes, Miss Craigson,’ the teacher said through thinning lips as she narrowed
her eyes.
Ginny rolled her eyes and flicked her wand in the direction of her partner, a
Ravenclaw boy who had a stutter so pronounced Ginny hadn’t been able to tell
what his name was – Sam, or Simon or something. The boy slowly grinned, then
chuckled and before long he was laughing hysterically, tears of mirth rolling
down his cheeks as he tried to remain upright.
The teacher watched noiselessly before awarding Slytherin five house points.
‘Aw what? All she did was a stupid cheering charm!’ a Gryffindor complained.
‘I am well aware of that fact, Mr Thompson, but it may well have escaped your
notice that she did it silently. This is a skill that many wizards and witches
never learn to do properly and is not part of the curriculum until –’
Ginny zoned out. Who cared? She was well aware that silent magic was something
that many did not achieve, but Ginny was more actively interested in trying to
perform wandless magic. So far she’d managed to levitate a gnut about a
centimetre, but that was the best she could do and only for a couple of
seconds.
After lessons she was met by Francis Parry, who also took charms that lesson.
‘So can you do wandless as well?’ he asked with no introduction.
‘Do you have any change?’ Ginny said, seemingly out of the blue.
Francis frowned before pulling a galleon out of his pocket and placed it on his
palm.
Ginny contemplated for a moment. On the one hand a galleon was larger and
heavier, but on the other the last time she had tried was about half a year
ago. Silently she concentrated on the coin. It quivered a second before
spinning out of Francis’ hand and flying through the air as Ginny caught it
gracefully and stuck it in her pocket. ‘Thanks,’ she said, grinning.
‘That was – I mean – wow,’ Francis finally managed to get out. ‘But I’d like my
money back.’
Ginny sniggered, putting the coin away in her robes. ‘No way. That’s about the
best I can do so far, but I haven’t been able to practise for a while.’
Francis shook his head. ‘Tom was right about you.’
Her head snapped round to look at Francis in surprise. ‘What did he say?’ she
asked, trying desperately to keep her voice calm.
He looked at her curiosly for a moment before answering, ‘he just said you were
different.’
‘We’re all different, Parry. Nature made every single one of us unique,’ Ginny
replied with a wave of her hand.
‘Ironic, isn’t it?’ he agreed. ‘And, please, call me Francis.’
Ginny nodded and they walked in silence to Defence. Francis seemed to want to
say something, but by the time he decided to say it Riddle had appeared and he
promptly shut his mouth.
‘It was nice talking to you, Ginny,’ he said politely, nodded once to Riddle,
then set off in the opposite direction.
‘Miss Craigson,’ Riddle greeted.
‘Mr Riddle.’
‘So, tell me, are you an animagus as well as a leglimens?’ Riddle asked
conversationally, though his voice was dripping with venom.
‘No,’ Ginny replied calmly, propping herself against the wall and half closing
her eyes lazily. ‘But then, neither are you,’ she pointed out.
‘How would you know that?’
‘Because otherwise you wouldn’t have asked,’ Ginny answered confidently.
Riddle merely raised an eyebrow at her.
‘You feel threatened by the fact that I could, if I wanted to, step inside your
mind and take what I like.’
Riddle did not respond, just continued to watch her through slightly narrowed,
bright blue eyes.
‘I suppose,’ Ginny said tiredly, ‘that you want me to promise never to read
your thoughts again.’
‘But you’re not going to.’
‘It’s nice to know other people’s secrets,’ she said simply.
‘You want to blackmail me?’
‘Oh, I could if I wanted, but what’s the point?’ Ginny opened her eyes then and
looked directly into Riddle’s. ‘What could you possibly tell me that I can’t
find out for myself?’ she asked, tugging at the corners of his mind, not really
looking or attacking, just teasing.
His face did not change, but his eyes gleamed with some unidentifiable emotion
that had Ginny grinning smugly at him. Together the two of them walked into the
Defence classroom and slipped into their chairs at the very centre of the
class, every movement in synchronisation, whether they noticed or not.
‘Welcome, class,’ the professor spoke up, causing the class to fall quiet. ‘As
most of you know, we were working on the Patronus charm at the end of last term
– have you all been practising?’
A murmured ‘yes’ swung about the class and Ginny glanced sideways to notice
with surprise that Riddle had a deep set frown in place. ‘What form does yours
take?’ she asked in the moment of noise.
Riddle glanced sideways at her, his eyes shooting knives. That was when Ginny
understood. Riddle couldn’t cast the Patronus because he had no happy memory he
could use as a base. Ginny did a one shouldered shrug and placed her hand in
the air as the professor asked who could cast a full bodied Patronus.
‘Ah, Miss Craigson. Perhaps you would like to demonstrate for us?’
‘Certainly, Professor.’ Ginny stood and sent her mind spinning back to that one
perfect night with Harry. Then, with a noiseless flick of her wand her Patronus
burst forth. Ginny’s face was immaculate, despite her inner turmoil as, rather
than a horse, a phoenix burst forth from her wand. She knew what it meant, of
course. A phoenix – the rebirth of hope. Something in her trembled and broke as
she watched it soar above the heads of her classmates, but another part of her
filled with unequivocal joy. If there was such a thing as fate and signs, this
was it. She stretched out an arm for it to land on and as soon as it touched
her the Phoenix dissipated, leaving only memories and a classroom full of awed
and impressed faces.
Ginny smirked at the teacher, who congratulated her.
‘Forgive me for asking – what memory did you use?’
Ginny sat down heavily and looked up sadly. ‘The last night before everything
ended,’ she said truthfully and would say no more.
‘How can you do that?’ Riddle hissed at her as the Professor set them to their
task.
‘I’ve known a lot of grief, Riddle, but that grief hurts all the more because
it was punctuated and remembered by the times of normality and hope.’
‘Grief?’ he asked incredulously. ‘What do you know of grief?’
In her mind’s eye Ginny saw exactly, with precise details, Harry’s face craning
up to her and his cracked lips whispering to her – They'll take me tomorrow,
love. Then the image was gone. It lasted less than a second, but it did not
escape Riddle’s notice, the shadow that swept across Ginny’s face and the
unadulterated pain and suffering in her eyes in that moment. ‘One day I’ll show
you,’ she said, a small smile hovering for a moment, then disappearing.
Ginny took a long, sweeping glance of the room and almost laughed aloud at
their pitiful attempts at Patronuses. And she had mastered this spell in her
fourth year. ‘Riddle,’ she said suddenly. ‘Try it.’
Riddle rolled his eyes, but concentrated and muttered the spell, causing a weak
white mist to appear at the tip of his wand before it disappeared. ‘It’s the
best I can do,’ he drawled, falling back into sarcasm as a protection method.
‘What’s the thing you hold in most esteem in your life?’ Ginny asked him
bluntly, her question asking for emotions, but her tone leaving no room for
excuses.
‘Power,’ Riddle answered smoothly, never missing a beat, his eyes narrowing
dangerously.
‘At what point have you felt the most powerful?’ Ginny questioned him, throwing
up a hand as he opened his mouth to reply. ‘No! I don’t want to know when or
what it was.’ she looked at him in disgust. ‘Come here,’ she ordered and he
stood slowly, moving around the desk.
Ginny stood behind him, her body not quite touching his, then moved her hand to
grip his wand wrist. ‘Hold that memory in the forefront of your mind. That
sense of glory, superiority… now,’ Ginny’s voice quietened to a whisper, ‘say
it.’
The words fell from his lips as Ginny stepped forward so she was flush against
him, her hand directing his as he flicked it and a bright white Patronus sprang
forward. They stood and watched as the dragon rampaged forward across the
classroom, knocking desks aside with ease and sending the students running.
Ginny sighed, releasing a long, slow breath across Riddle’s shoulder, sending a
shudder down his spine. Then she stepped away, leaving his back and wrist
feeling awfully cold. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her raise her wand
too, until suddenly his dragon was joined by her phoenix, tempting it, pushing
it, teasing it, scolding it, rewarding it until the dragon abandoned its quest
of the students and joined the fire bird in its dance of the air currents.
It seemed right that the dragon would return to Ginny and offer its gratitude
before returning to its master – as right, perhaps, as that of the journey of
the phoenix first to Riddle, then Ginny.
Riddle watched the display with fascinated amusement, for a while his mask lay
forgotten as he watched a piece of his happiness dance with a piece of hers.
Then it slipped easily back in place before any but Ginny noticed it was gone.
‘Thank you,’ he said coolly.
Ginny’s face remained impassive, but her chocolate eyes swirled with delighted
satisfaction – not at his thanks, but because he had been able to do it. He,
the man who had killed thousands, he who had murdered and molested because he
felt like it, he who would be given the title ‘The Dark Lord’, had been able to
successfully pull of a charm that relied solely on the pure righteousness of a
situation. But no, not some unnameable he. Just Riddle. Just Riddle, the orphan
boy had cast his first full bodied Patronus.
‘You’re welcome,’ she replied.
Then the two of them moved in that instinctive synchronisation they shared and
sank, together, into their separate chairs, each regarding the havoc the
classroom had become with cool detachment. Maybe they were thinking and feeling
the same thing, but from their impassive faces it was impossible to tell. An
impossible that suddenly seemed, in that tiny, slither of a moment, entirely
possible.
__
 
They made an impressive pair, the red haired girl and the blue eyed boy. She
was considerably shorter than he was, but somehow their strides matched – their
every movement matched. When he blinked, in the exact same moment, so did she.
When she breathed so did he. They walked together to the Dungeons and, for the
first time in anyone’s memory Riddle took a partner in Potions.
Ginny was unaware of this fact but still sat pensively, forgetting for a moment
that the foreboding Professor Severus Snape would not be born for another ten
years, let alone teach. She had never been amazing at Potions, but perhaps with
a little better tutelage…
‘I’m preparing to be impressed,’ Riddle hummed into her ear as the class waited
in whispered quiet for the teacher to arrive.
Ginny half turned her head towards him, a slight frown marring her forehead.
‘Potions is my worst subject,’ she informed him quietly, instantly wondering
the wisdom of her words – perhaps it would be better for him not to know her
weaknesses?
But Riddle did not show any emotion at her declaration, merely staring at the
door that now opened to reveal a younger, thinner, more handsome Professor
Slughorn. Ginny watched him with slightly raised eyebrows – her only show of
surprise. In the back of her mind it scared Ginny how easily she had slipped
into Riddle’s approval, how easily she had forged her own Slytherin mask to
slip into place whenever needed. But another part new that really she’d already
had the mask – that it had been in the making for years, since the moment she
had met Riddle in the diary – and it was only now that she was putting it in
place.
Draught of the Living Death. Working individually. Ginny sighed and flipped the
book shut. How many times over the past years did she have to make this potion
to save someone from near death? It was impossible to know. But it stopped
everything and it had saved so many people from bleeding to death before the
necessary help could get there. Ginny was no healer, but she knew how to save
people.
Everyone had believed that Snape was a traitor, but his book had revealed so
many little helps and tricks that, despite Hermione’s annoyance, Harry had
taught Ginny from that book. Ron had laughed and distracted Hermione with a
kiss or a promise and Ginny and Harry had laughed together, sharing sweet
kisses over the cauldron as they worked together to perfect whatever potion it
was.
Ginny worked in sombre silence, ignoring the cold presence of Riddle at her
elbow. Stir twice clockwise, add the Amazonian bluebottle juice, stir once
anti-clockwise and throw in a dash of grey salt to counteract the powdered
dragon tooth that Riddle tried to sabotage it with. Ginny said nothing, working
in silence as she relived all those precious little moments that meant nothing,
but so, so much. She did not cry, did not pause from her work until Riddle
slipped bloomslang skin into the potion. Not missing a beat Ginny through in
the neutralisation before turning to Riddle in fury.
‘Do you have any idea the kind of shit that could have done?’
Riddle gazed blankly back at her.
‘If I hadn’t moved quickly the potion wouldn’t have just fizzed a bit, it would
have imploded with search a force it would have sucked every single person this
room into the singularity, before exploding to leave nothing but stone walls
and lots of dust,' Ginny snarled at him, her voice echoing into the sudden
silence of the room.
‘Well then it’s a good thing you acted quickly, isn’t it?’ he replied with a
smug question, a self-righteous smirk gracing his features.
Not quite understanding what came over her Ginny punched him in the mouth,
revelling in the way he span backwards from her and slammed against the desk.
‘You little bitch.’ He jumped up, wand appearing in his hand.
Ginny didn’t move. For a moment the class though perhaps he had put her in a
body bind curse, but a very slow smile spread itself across her face. ‘Are you
going to hex me, Tom?’ she asked him, using his first name for the first time.
‘Are you going to give me the brunt of your anger and leave me in the hospital
wing for weeks? Or perhaps you’re going to forego the injuries and simply kill
me?’ She spoke in honeyed tones inlaid with poison. ‘But no. I don’t think
you’re going to do anything. I’ve stared death in the face, Tom, and I’m not
looking at him now.’
The class watched in trepidation at the new girl calmly staring down the wand
of someone whose temper was infamous and had just exploded in her direction.
Perhaps she was brave. Perhaps she was just foolish. It didn’t cross anyone’s
mind until much later what a Gryffindor the Slytherin had been.
But for now Riddle slowly lowered his wand and let out a true, full hearted
laugh. The sound was odd coming from Riddle’s lips, as though he’d never
laughed properly before.
‘You, Miss Ginevra Craigson, are something else,’ Riddle said softly just as
the door banged open from the supply cupboard and the Professor bounded back
in.
‘Now what’s going on here?’ he asked warily at the silence and grim
expressions.
Riddle shot Ginny a side long look and they both, at the same moment with the
same too-innocent smiles, said, ‘nothing, sir.’
Slughorn regarded them through narrowed eyes, but let the moment pass with an
order to the students to bottle their samples and put them on his desk. Ginny
added one last ingredient and let the potion simmer for a moment as she packed
up before bottling it and giving it to the teacher.
‘I’m impressed, Miss Craigson,’ Slughorn stopped her before she moved away.
‘Why sir?’
‘Though there is no proof of the matter, Riddle manages normally to sabotage
every potion close to him. For you to survive the lesson with a perfect
sample…’ he trailed off, shaking his head.
‘I’ve used this potion a lot in recent years,’ was all Ginny offered as an
explanation.
‘You know a lot about poisons?’ Riddle asked, placing his sample on the desk
and introducing himself to the conversation.
‘The Draught isn’t a poison,’ Ginny told him calmly. ‘More often than not this
potion is used to save lives than take them.’
Slughorn gave Ginny a curious look, but Riddle merely smirked at her. Tired of
the wordless conversation passing between them Ginny turned away and cleaned up
the rest of her things, before leaving the room. As the door swung shut behind
her Riddle turned back to face his teacher.
‘Professor, I’ve been meaning to ask you about something.’
__
 
Ginny walked into the Great Hall and sat down between Theodore and Katrina,
staring at the empty space opposite her.
‘So how has your first day been so far?’ Eileen asked.
‘Reasonable. Charms and Defence was easy enough, but Riddle was being a right
git in Potions just now.’
‘Oh, Riddle’s always a git in potions,’ Georgia piped up in the horrible nasal
way of hers.
Ginny didn’t bother to pose a question, the girl was obviously keen to share
her knowledge.
‘It’s his worst subject, so he spends the whole lesson slipping the wrong
ingredients into other people’s cauldrons. He’s still way better than average,
just not the best in the year.’
‘Why, who’s the best?’ Ginny asked curiously.
Eileen Prince smiled smugly and brought her goblet to her lips in an attempt to
hide it. Ginny laughed out loud at that – she should have guessed! Snape had
become one of the youngest teachers in decades and he had to have learnt it
from someone – and it was definitely not Slughorn. Ginny shuddered as she
remembered the ‘Slug Club’ and prayed that she wouldn’t be invited this year.
‘But there’s a price – I have to go to a horrendous club of Slughorn’s.’ Eileen
echoed Ginny’s shudder.
Matisse, who was sat next to Eileen, offered her a sympathetic slap on the
shouder as the other Slytherins sniggered into their food. Ginny glanced up as
Slughorn entered the hall and made his way up to the teachers’ table, followed
soon after by Riddle.
‘Get what you want?’ Ginny asked him.
Riddle sat down opposite her and regarded her with a guarded expression for a
long moment before answering with a simple, blunt, ‘no.’
Ginny shrugged and smirked. ‘I’m sure there are others with the knowledge
you’re after,’ she said.
‘How do you know it’s knowledge I’m after?’
‘There are only two things someone might want from Slughorn that you can’t
steal. One’s knowledge. The other’s sex,’ Ginny replied wryly. ‘And considering
he smells of at least two different types of perfume, I’m guessing he’s
straight. Not that that would stop you, if you really wanted it, but I’m
guessing you’re heterosexual too.’
‘Why, do I also smell of perfume?’
‘No, but I’m sitting next to one of the fittest guys in school–’
‘Thanks,’ Theodore inserted.
‘–no problem, and you’ve spent the entire conversation staring at me, not
checking him out.’
‘We’ve been going to school together for five years and share a dormitory,
what’s to say I don’t ‘check him out’ in private?’ Riddle asked, clearly very
amused by the conversation.
‘Tom Marvolo Riddle, have you ever – either consciously or unconsciously –
looked at another guy and felt the need to take that individual into the
nearest alcove and have your wicked way with him?’
‘No, but–’
‘Have you ever felt the need to shove him into an alcove at all?’
‘No…’
‘Then my point, Riddle, is proven. You’re straight. Now that we’re over that
pointless discussion, I’ll tell you again, that whatever knowledge you’re after
can surely be found elsewhere.’
Riddle stared at Ginny for a moment longer, before standing abruptly and
leaving the room.
‘Ooh, you’ve pissed him off no end,’ Katrina said, giving Ginny a friendly
elbow in the ribs.
Ginny started digging into her meal. ‘About time someone won an argument
against him,’ was all she said.
‘Why did he want to prove he wasn’t straight anyway,’ Theodore asked from
Ginny’s other side.
Ginny didn’t answer, knowing full well that Riddle had been trying to distract
her from the fact that he had been trying to get some kind of knowledge out of
Slughorn. Upon his realisation that Ginny could not be so easily put off he had
left. He had also, of course, wanted to win the argument.
Eileen shook her head and smiled a small, rueful smile. ‘Whatever you’re doing,
Ginny, be warned – Riddle’s one scary bastard when you get on his wrong side.
If I were you I’d leave well alone.’
Ginny offered her a small smile back, but knew that even if she wasn’t trying
to do anything and everything to stop Riddle becoming Voldemort she wouldn’t
have been able to back down now. Just like in her first year she found herself
being lured closer and closer to Riddle’s spider web of lies and half truths,
of secrets and dreams. But this time Ginny was determined to be more than a
stupid, bumbling fly. This time she would be another spider and draw him as
much to her and her secrets as she was to him. She already knew it was starting
to work, but she had to tread very, very carefully. One wrong move and the web
would collapse and this time Harry wouldn’t be there to save her.
After lunch Ginny had the rest of the day off, so she decided to pay a visit to
the Room of Requirement. So far as she knew, no one in this time zone knew of
its existence and Ginny needed some time alone to sort out her thoughts.
Thinking of the diary made her wonder – when was it dated? The current date was
1943, so if only… if only she could remember. Had Riddle already opened it and
killed Myrtle?
Myrtle? Of course! Ginny quickly changed direction and ran for the second floor
girl’s lavatory. Just as she hurtled around the last corner Ginny saw Riddle
emerging from – the bathroom!
Ginny quickly darted back round the corner and ducked into a nearby classroom,
casting a quick silencing spell around herself and the door so she could shut
it without being heard. This was it. Ginny listened to his footsteps walk
slowly towards the door, then pause. For what seemed like an eternity she stood
stock still, waiting for him to open the door and accuse her with those hard
blue eyes of hers, but he walked on past.
Releasing a long breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding Ginny choked
back a sob when she finally took in that this was the year that ‘Moaning
Myrtle’ would die. The year Hagrid would be expelled. The year that Tom Riddle
would open the Chamber of Secrets and commit the first of many murders.
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