Challenge Number and Letter: 1B
Word Count: 3405
http: // community . live journal. co m / themomms /
Authors Note: A LOT of credit is due to sillylittleduck, who lent me her creative mind by not only plotting this out with me, but even providing me with some crucial bits of the fanfiction itself! Sillylittleduck very patiently edited this for me also, adding superb details. But most importantly, she encouraged me. You were an integral part in writing this. I'd also like to thank my other MoMMies, HermioneGrangerTwin and Bendleshnitz who have both written excellent responses to the challenges sillylittleduck and myself issued. If you need a recommendation for good fanfiction, please check any of these three talented fanfictioners out. Lastly, thank you for reading. Please review, and let me know what you think: good, or bad.
The Demented
"Go away, Ginny," Ron said dismissively.
Ginny visibly started, taken back by her brother's boorish utterance. Hermione offered her a small smile to appease her, and eyed Ron with slight scorn for his lack of tack.
Ginny though, obliged, albeit reluctantly. "Oh, that's nice," she said huffily as she stalked off in search of better companionship. Well, not better, Ginny thought unhappily, as she left the trio and in particular, its bespectacled leader. She resented her brother for his thoughtlessness; where else was she going to go? Who would she hang out with? Ginny's first year (which could only be described as dismal, to say the least) had not resulted in an abundance of friends and although she had three other brother's to sit with, she was sure none of them would welcome her presence more enthusiastically. Feeling lost, she weaved through the crowds of other students searching for space, and she spotted a head full of shaggy, dirty blonde hair disappearing into a compartment. A moment later, when the occupants of this compartment made their quick escape, this confirmed exactly who she thought it was.
Relieved, Ginny ducked inside and faced Luna Lovegood, a second-year, Ravenclaw student.
"Hullo, Luna," Ginny said, grinning shyly.
Luna's beamed at her, looking very pleased. "Hello, Ginny," she said, in the soft, faraway voice Ginny thought was very comforting.
Molly Weasley had taken to referring to Ginny's first year as being "difficult" and thus, the events that made it so were called: "Ginny's difficulties". These very "difficulties" had left Ginny without friends or any social prospects at the end of last year, the only exception being the odd, acquaintanceship she had formed with Ravenclaw's looniest student. Luna Lovegood had approached her with a barrage of remarkably odd questions regarding Ginny's encounter with the legendary basilisk, most of were in regards to it's mating habits and rumored loved of Bavarian waltzes to which Ginny could not answer neither, but despite this, a kinship had formed between the two of them. Loneliness was something they both had in common.
Ginny sat down next to Luna, finally noticing her unusual hair accessory. A bundle of brightly colored green and blue feathers sat atop her head in a very garish display. It looked rather strange.
"Those are nice feathers," Ginny said, always in awe of Luna's unique fashion statements, perhaps even somewhat impressed. Ginny always opted for more subtle attire, because well, after last year, normalcy was exactly what she was trying to impress her peers, but she did admire Luna for her gumption. Luna fluffed her hair appreciatively. Ginny studied the feathers momentarily, then, when Luna did not speak, she prompted:
"Are those from a peacock?" To which, Luna replied very seriously:
"Oh no!" she touched the feathers on her head again, "Although, you're not far off! These are from a wee-cock." She bobbed her head enthusiastically, and a second later, was rooting around in the purple knapsack at her hip. Ginny peered over her shoulder with interest as Luna produced, with a flourish, a photograph of a rather stout looking bird that bore quite a resemblance to a peacock, but was very short, and round. In fact, upon further study, the only real thing it had in common with the majestic bird was it's coloring and tail of distinctive feathers.
"A wee-cock." Ginny repeated, and must have sounded dubious, because Luna quickly launched into further explanation.
"Oh, it's quite alright you don't know what it is. See, Daddy and I discovered it at the Witchery-Switchery! It was being sold with regular peacocks, but as you can see, it's not a peacock at all! It has quite an irritable disposition, and isn't very monogamous," Luna explained, "In fact, Old Bob who breeds them said he was quite intent on impregnating all the peafowls! Bob practically gave him to Daddy, and thanked him for taking him off our hands." Here, she smiled fondly. "I am quite glad though! It's quite a good pet, although I think Daddy may feel sad for his hydrangeas. It's all Dexter will eat, you know."
"Dexter being…" Ginny prompted.
"The wee-cock." Luna replied.
"Ah."
Luna tucked the photo of her beloved bird back into safe keeping and turned her full attention back to Ginny, who felt a little uncomfortable under her suddenly intense, silvery stare.
"How was your summer, Ginny?" she asked.
Ginny's thoughts automatically went to Harry, and the tell-tale Weasley red flooded her fair cheeks, causing Luna to laugh softly.
"Good then." Luna declared, with understanding.
Though embarrassed, Ginny couldn't help but smile. Despite a rather fun family excursion in Egypt, she had been possessed by feelings of dread and despair at the impending school year. When she thought of Harry, feelings of excitement and anxiety replaced her upset. These feelings were very welcome.
The two girls sat in comfortable silence for the next few minuets as the Hogwarts Express lurched onward towards its destination. A happy, silly smile remained on Ginny's face, her mind racing with thoughts of Harry and the opportunities that would arise that would allow her to get to know him better.
Ginny snapped out of her reverie when Luna's eyes lit up suddenly, and both of her hands moved to her hair. "Perhaps," she said eagerly, "You should borrow Dexter's feathers. I'm sure they'd look quite lovely with your coloring. Also, peacock feathers are supposed to attract attention, and certainly, wee-cock feathers are no different."
Ginny gawked at the image this suggestion produced, of herself parading around with a similar hairdo in front of Harry and her brothers, and shook her head adamantly, forcing a polite smile. "No, no, Luna. They're your feathers."
"Oh, but," Luna insisted. "I really don't mind. See, I've got several more…"
She disappeared into the large, purple knapsack at her hip again, despite Ginny's protests, and began to rummage through her belongings.
Ginny was saved by the Hogwarts Express as it suddenly reduced speed; this startled the pair who knew it was too early to arrive at Hogsmead station. Without the rhythmic clacking of the wheels ghosting along the track, the wind and rain rattled stronger and louder than before; angry, persistent raindrops pelted the window Ginny now stood before. The train finally slowed to a complete stop, enticing several cries of alarm from other students coupled with the sounds of luggage falling. Ginny pressed her hand against the window pane to wipe the condensation away, but was startled by the coldness of the surface, feeling a chill run through her body. Ginny took a deep breath, before renewing her efforts, wiping at the window rapidly to get a clear view outside of the train. What Ginny saw was movement, people outside in very dark garbs, but even when she squinted, she unable to discern little else. Luna's curiosity was also piqued by the abrupt stop, joined Ginny at the window. A second later, the train was enveloped in darkness and Ginny couldn't prevent her own startled cry of alarm.
Luna's hand quickly found hers in the darkness, and squeezed reassuringly, but made no remark about Ginny's reaction.
It was silly to be afraid, Ginny told herself, as she felt her heart beat rapidly in her chest. It was a very silly reaction to what was probably nothing to be concerned about. Yes, Ginny was sure this was so.
"I have to find my brother," Ginny gasped out loud, suddenly lightheaded.
Luna said nothing, but held onto Ginny's hand as she maneuvered through the darkness to the door. Ginny breathed a sigh of thanks as she heard Luna wrench the door open to allow her an exit. "Did you want to…?" she said, in an afterthought, thinking maybe Luna was scared as well, but she felt Luna shake her head no, and didn't question her further, feeling overwhelmed by nerves. Ginny decided she'd feel better when she found Harry, Harry and her brother, and set off, stumbling through the carriage, arms outstretched before her, trying to find the trio's compartment by luck alone.
Ginny heard a compartment slide open, and voices that were at once, very comforting flooded her ears.
"I'm going to go and ask the driver what's going on,"
Ginny stumbled right, and squealed in pain as she collided with the owner of this statement; bumping heads, knees, and shoulders.
"Who's that?"
Ginny felt her hands land on her face and hair and fingers prodding her nose and chin, as if trying to discern her identity by touch alone.
"Who's that?" Ginny demanded.
"Ginny?"
"Hermione?" she said, relieved.
"What are you doing?" Hermione asked.
"I was looking for Ron." 'And Harry' she thought.
"Come in and sit down." Ginny felt Hermione grab her by the shoulder, and steer her inside. Relieved, Ginny sat down on something soft; something she was quickly able to discern was not a seat.
Harry confirmed this as he shifted beneath her and said, hurriedly, "Not here!" and added, unnecessarily, "I'm here."
For a moment, she was extremely glad it they were engulfed in pitch darkness, so Harry wouldn't see the blush that was burning her cheeks with her mortification. Ginny jumped up in surprise, foot falling on something which based on Neville's cry of: "Ouch" must have been his foot. She grimaced sympathetically and murmured an apology under her breath, then fell into the vacant seat next to Harry a moment later.
"Quiet!" hoarsely, a voice she was unable to identify cried suddenly, and although Ginny didn't know who this was, the tone of voice compelled obedience.
She heard movement across from her, and drew her legs to her chest, as to avoid her own foot being trampled. Ginny felt someone pass her.
One soft, crackling noise later, and a light flooded the compartment, illuminating its inhabitants. The hoarse voice Ginny heard before obviously belonged to the man who sat across from her, cupping a handful of bright flames in his hands. Ginny studied him briefly, trying to understand who he was and why he was there. The man had graying, light brown hair, and a pallid countenance. He looked tired, but was alert. In an afterthought, Ginny decided that although old and grey, he was quite distinguished, though no where near Gilderoy Lockhart. Ginny shook her head; now was not the time.
"Stay where you are," the stranger demanded as he rose, carefully holding the magical flames before him to light the way as he crossed the compartment, his intent obviously the same as Hermione's was, a few moments prior.
Before he could reach the door however, it was sliding open slowly.
Standing before them in the doorway, the flames cast a light on a tall, cloaked figure that nearly towered the ceiling of the compartment. Its face was completely hidden, but its hand was not, it protruded from the cloak. The hand was burnished, grayish, scabbed, and looked as if it was covered in a slimy, gooey substance. Ginny stared at it, shocked, but it disappeared a moment later within the billowing black cloak of its owner.
No one spoke. The creature emitted a noise, like a breath, but slow and rattling. Then, Ginny felt cold; colder than she had ever felt before. It was like a wintry chill swept into the compartment, beneath her robes, beneath her clothes, and onto her skin, no under her skin… Ginny felt it everywhere.
Out of fear, unable to bear with the sight, and the sensations around her, Ginny shut her eyes and remembered.
The sudden memory was vivid even more so than the events of yesterday, or the day just before that. When Ginny opened her eyes, she was facing Moaning Myrtle's bathroom door, hand poised over the surface. Ginny knew at once where she was, and what she was doing. The other messages shone on the wall of the corridor; her handy work. This was when she wrote his previous messages.
Suddenly, she was aware a sharp stinging pain in her hand, but knew its source, even before she looked down. A stretch of scar marred the palm of her stark white left hand; blood bubbled to the surface, trickled off her fingertips and dropped soundly into the rusty bucket at her feet. Ginny's stomach lurched at the image before her, and she felt lightheaded and dizzy at once, only able to proceed because of the foreign strength that dominated her body she knew didn't belong to her. Ginny knelt on the floor and grasped the thin handle of the bucket with her uninjured hand, lifting it with her as she rose again. As she stared at the small drops of blood that swirled at the bottom of the bucket, it occurred to her that it wouldn't be enough for the task before her.
In answer, a smooth, pleasant baritone she had come to both know well and wholly resent invaded her thoughts.
"Why Ginerva, don't you trust me?" This was punctuated by a wicked, maniacal chuckle. Then, he said and then she said: "Incresious Sanguinis"
And before her eyes, the blood had increased nearly filling the bucket in her hand.
This startled her; she thought frantically of dropping the bucket, imagining it crashing to the floor, unable to fulfill it's unholy purpose, but even as she tried she knew it was for naught. She wasn't nearly in control enough of her faculties to do any sort of thing.
"Tsk tsk… little one, wouldn't want to have to go and get some more now would we" He asked in a simpering taunt before his wicked chuckle rang reverberated through her mind.
The fear at the prospect shook her to the core, and delighted Tom Riddle; she felt his soaring pleasure at her discomfort.
Then, a second later, her hand was plunged into the warm blood. She cried out at the sensation knowing her protest would never reach her, and felt the stirrings of tears she was incapable to shed.
"Enough, now," Tom's voice was firm. Her hand jerked upwards and was thrust towards the door before her. In his haste, the warm, sticky liquid splattered down the front of her robes sending a roll of disgust through her body. The remainder sloshed dangerously as she clutched the bucket with her injured hand.
Ginny watched helplessly as her fingers slid against the smooth, wooden surface, forming letters that were surprisingly coherent and even, mockingly elegant. This caused her stomach to churn with the indecency, delighting Tom once again.
"A man's penmanship is an unfailing index of his character, moral and mental, and a criterion by which to judge his peculiarities of taste and sentiments." He said. "Really, did you expect anything less of me?" cackling once more and reveling in her fear.
Ginny could not respond to that. Although, she thought it was a rather stupid quote, Tom Riddle either hadn't heard her over his own sharp guffaw or hadn't care enough to respond. She was reminded of her current state, as her hand was plunged into the bucket once more to replenish Tom's 'ink' and her hand returned to the door.
Already marred with the words: Her skeleton will lie…
The fear that was a constant in any interactions with Tom Riddle as of late intensified; her chest constricted painfully, and heart hammered. It should not have been a surprise; death was more than a distinct possibility.
Ginny's hands twisted intricately as they formed the next words: in the Chamber…
Her wrist twisted, fingers curving as the formed the 'f' then the 'o'…
Then, Ginny took a step back involuntarily, to look at her handiwork.
Forever.
Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever.
"No," Ginny thought, pleading now but to no avail as he waved her wand before the words and they glowed brightly for a moment. She knew they wouldn't come off easily now and it sickened her to know all would see her handy work. Tom propelled her forward into the bathroom. The poor candlelight illuminated the chipped porcelain sinks with their copper taps, and the cracked, dirty mirrors that hung above. Ginny walked towards them, unable to stop, thoughts racing. She reached the sinks, and dumped the contents of the bucket, watching the red swill disappear down the drain, before casting this object aside.
Looking up, Ginny saw a girl she did not recognize.
This girl looked half-starved; frail, too skinny for the black robes draped around her frame. Her chest rose and fell rapidly with labored breathing.
Her red hair was matted and unkempt; her brown eyes were swollen, red, and bulged with exertion.
Finally, a deranged grin completed the image of the stranger; it stretched across her face, stark white teeth glinting dangerously.
"That's you, Ginerva." Tom assured her.
"That's who you've made me become!" she cried out to him savagely with all the hate she felt, that only served to twist the grin that remained. Ginny had lost her body, and her mind. Her reflection taunted her.
"You've served a great pureblood purpose," he said to her, "Your death will not be in vain. You should feel honored to have made such a distinguished contribution. It will have been the greatest accomplishment you could have ever achieved."
This sentiment offered Ginny no solace; though she was sure that he had not said it for her comfort. Tom Riddle had used her; he had pretended to be a friend, someone who would listened to her every thought, confide her every fear and now, she was of no importance; just a body, just a mind that had been warped and twisted to fulfill his purpose.
She reaching forward, her still bleeding hand grasped the only sink that didn't work, her fingers tracing the outline of the small snake etched into the russet faucet.
Ginny looked up again to watch her reflection; the grin was gone, in its place, a look of determination. Bending down, her lips parted to form a word, tongue thrashing against the backs of her teeth as she struggled to articulate it.
"Open up," her voice tangled and hissed in the unfamiliar tongue.
"Harry! Harry! Are you all right?"
Ron's voice roused her from her stupor.
Ginny opened her eyes; at once, she was put at ease to find herself in the Hogwarts Express, but was startled at the sight of Harry sprawled out across the compartment floor. Ron and Hermione knelt beside him. Ron was attempting to wake him up by slamming him brusquely, while Hermione was holding one of his hands and squeezing it. Neville and the man from before watched on.
Ginny didn't know she was holding her breath until Harry stiffened suddenly, and grunted: "W--- what?"
Harry's eyes opened, and he looked around the room. His trademark circle-framed glasses lay across his chest, and he grabbed them, shoving them into place on his nose before Hermione and Ron helped him back into his seat.
Ron asked him if he was okay, nervously, not unlike the way he would behave were he encountering one of Aragog's brood of spiders.
"Yeah," Harry assured him, glancing towards the door in search of the horrible hooded creature; it had vanished. "What happened?" he demanded, 'Where's that--- thing? Who screamed?"
"No one screamed." Ron responded, wringing his hands nervously before him.
That's when Harry looked at her.
They're eyes met briefly, but instantly, she felt warmth flood her body, and face. Although still reeling from reliving what was by far her worst memory, Ginny stopped shaking almost at once.
There was no mystery as to why. Harry had saved her from Tom Riddle in the flesh. Why would a memory be any different?