A/N: For the Quidditch League Fanfic Competition, Round 5.
Chaser 3, Pride of Portree
Main Prompt: (Pocket Dimension) Write about the things that could happen inside a 'space pocket' where the inside is bigger than the outside. E.G Hermiones beaded bag (with extendable charms), a wizards tent, a sphere that holds a small universe with a different set of physical laws.
Optional Prompts: Fire, Tom Marvolo Riddle X Ginny Weasley, "Gladly, I succumbed."
Word Count: 1611 (Google docs)
I look again at the small, leather-covered book. It's beautiful, and I can almost feel a shiver down my spine as I run my hands over it. It is a beautiful onyx, and I cannot help but be mesmerised by its allure as I caress it.
Looking around the tower once more, I ensure that no one else is here. Not that it would really matter if they were. I'll just be reading a book. But something about this particular journal seems to demand a sort of...loneliness.
I flip open the cover. There is writing on the first page, but I can't read it. Instead, I focus on the swirling black picture below it. It doesn't look like a wizarding photograph… but I can see it moving. It is a vortex of pure black ink, and I swear I can feel it tugging at me, as if it wants to swallow me whole.
I touch it, and fire spreads through my body. Every inch of me might well be covered in flames, and they seem to dance in front of my eyes, as I am blinded by the light. I can see nothing, and all I can feel is the fire engulfing me. Yet, I am not complaining.
I am falling, I realise. I am falling into the book, and the etched ink rushes past me as if it forms the walls of a tunnel, as I fall deeper and deeper into an unknown abyss.
Eventually I hit the ground, if it can even be called that. It is as if a cushioning charm has been placed right beneath me. I realise that the pain in my body has receded already, and yet, I am somehow not thankful for it. I crave it almost, now that it is gone.
I look around, and find that I am surrounded by a dismal looking forest, encompassed in a thick grey fog. I grasp at the vines hanging off the tree, and try to steady myself, when I hear the mud squelching with the sound of footsteps. I instinctively look up, to see who it is; a boy, not much older than myself.
"Hello," I say.
He smiles at me; the kind of smile that sends flutters down to my stomach. No one ever smiles at me like that. Not even Harry.
"Hello, Ginny," he replies.
I like how he says my name, but he doesn't say much else. He just extends his hand, and I take it without hesitation.
He leads me along the path that I hadn't notice existed before. I think I like this world. It's far more interesting than my own. There are giant trees, with flowers that tower over me, almost protectively, casting dancing shadows that are hard to distinguish from the dark floor of the sunless forest.
"Where are we?" I ask, after we have travelled some distance.
He himself is looking around admiringly at this world. But I can see he knows this place intimately. He is not a newcomer, unlike me.
"Does it matter?" he asks, in that gentle voice of his.
The moment the words escape his lips, I realise the truth of them. It doesn't matter, it doesn't matter at all.
"Do you want," he begins, in a voice that is filled with hurt at the very idea, "do you want to go back?"
Immediately, my mind protests against the suggestion. "No," I say, without a pause. Why would I want to go back there?
There doesn't matter.
'The Chamber of Secrets' has been opened, the whispers in the halls of Hogwarts say. They are terrified, all of them; the teachers and students alike. He watches them, from the shadows, like a ghost. He is glad that they live in terror. He revels in it.
The writing on the wall, his own handiwork, even if through the physical form of someone else, he thinks is beautiful.
What is even more gorgeous is the thought of the students, perhaps the 'Chosen One' himself, succumbing to the glittering eyes of his pet Basilisk.
Yes, he tells himself. The Chamber of Secrets is open. A war is coming. A war that he will win before it even begins.
He smiles. It is hauntingly beautiful.
I see a lake, up ahead, but it doesn't look like anything I've ever seen before, surrounded by plants I have never seen before, and the water is coloured a deep mauve. It is breathtaking, even more so than many other aspects of this world. He quickens his pace, and I have to almost run to keep up. Every breath I take fills me with anticipation. I had never thought it would feel so...liberating to simply run free in a forest.
Soon enough, we are standing at the edge of the water. My bare toes touch the cold lake, and small waves lap comfortingly at my feet.
He sits down on the banks, tugging my arm. I look at his face, and it is lit up with a playful smile. I crouch down beside him, dipping my feet into the water like him. He seems to appreciate my doing so, and leans into me, with a grin on his face.
I place my head on his shoulder, and he runs his hand through my hair. I take a deep breath and take everything in; the view of the lake, the forest protecting us from everything else, and the feeling of his touch. I feel happy, right now, after a long time. I feel satisfied, and he is the reason for it.
"What do you think?" he asks.
I smile, unsure of how to describe the contentedness that I feel. "It's...perfect," I reply, after a thought. "You're perfect," I add, realising I'm blushing slightly.
He chuckles at my words. "I'm glad you think so," he says, not bothering with false modesty and awkward sentences.
He turns his head, and his lips are almost touching my ear when he whispers, "Stay with me, Ginny."
I don't even think of hesitating, as I turn to face him. "Yes," I whisper back, and in one fluid motion, he kisses me.
I feel that feeling I have been craving all along, again. Fire, burning, swirling around me. I realise that he is the flame that I have been aching for. His emerald eyes are the heart of the searing heat. I lean in further to the kiss, and forget everyone except him.
Everyone doesn't matter.
Chaos. How glorious. Petrifications, hexes, curses, and all of it, by an unseen force.
They want to close Hogwarts. They are afraid, so very, very afraid.
"Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever", the writing says this time.
He knows that it will come true. He will make the aforementioned 'her', his own. And 'she' would show little resistance.
He sees the fools, those Gryffindors plan to go down to the Chamber. It is perfect for his intentions really, he thinks.
They were simply going to make it easier for him.
He smirks. A trap sounds like the perfect way to kill Harry Potter.
I can't remember how long I've been here.
I can't remember what came before this.
I can't remember who I was.
I can't remember my name, except, what he calls me: Ginny.
I think it used to be a nickname once. But it is me, now. It is the only thing I brought with me from before.
I don't miss it. I belong here, now. I belong with him.
He is here, now. I can feel it. I ache for his presence when he is not, but when he is, I can celebrate.
He takes my hand in his, gently, just as he always does.
He has something to say to me, I know. He has that charming look in his green eyes, that I could get lost in for days. He takes a deep breath, and I know that whatever it is, it is important.
Immediately, my mind jumps to the worst possible scenario. Does he want to send me away? Does he want me to stay with him no longer?
But when he speaks, his words wash away all my fears.
"Be mine, Ginny," he says. His voice is soft, but firm.
I feel a flutter of pure joy at his command. He wants me to be his. His. How can I do anything but accept?
"Yes," I reply. "Yes."
He smiles, pleased with my answer. What would I not I do to see that beaming smile of his?
I fall into his welcoming arms that he holds out for me, content and truly happy. I just need this, him, and this place that I have fallen in love with. This is my everything.
Harry Potter thinks he can beat him. What a proud, arrogant prick! He will soon find out that this is no comparison between equals, this is no duel.
This is a battle already won.
The Chamber of Secrets is his liar. And he cannot cannot be defeated in his element.
I revel in his reflected glory as the one who is beside him always. I was his sword, his pen, his voice to the foolish mortals who could never come close to him in power.
Yes, the Chamber of Secrets is open. The prophesied enemy of the heir lies dead in front of me. Her-my useless flesh lies lifeless on the rocky floor of the Chamber.
But I? I have never felt more alive.
Tom is the fire that wants to burn the world whole, until he is the only one left standing. And to him, gladly, I succumbed.