Tom and Ginny: The Beginning
Ginevra Molly Weasley, known as Ginny to her friends and family, waved goodbye to four of her brothers as their school train left the station. Tears ran down her cheeks, but she laughed at her twin brothers' quip about about sending her a Hogwarts (their school) toilet seat. Ginny knew she'd be lonely for a long time sice she was the youngest child in her family and the only one still at home.
When they arrived at the Burrow (the Weasley home), Ginny's mum Molly turned to her only daughter and asked, "Are you going to be all right, Ginny? You know if you ever need to talk about anything—"
"Yes, Mum, I know," Ginny said quietly, before hurrying up the stairs to her room. Ginny knew her mother was only trying to help, but she wanted to deal with her issues on her own.
Truthfully, she wasn't sad, but rather in shock, for she had met the Boy-Who-Lived (Harry Potter) at the station! Well, she really hadn't met him, but had only seen him. He and her brother Ron were the same age, and would probably see each other a lot. Ginny was jealous.
But anyway, Ginny was extremely glad that she'd been born into a pureblood wizarding family—even if they did all have red hair and she was the youngest of seven children! Next year, I will go to school, Ginny promised herself, and I will impress Harry. My brains are scrambled; I'm thinking about him still!
Several nights later, Ginny decided to practice her flying like she'd always done since she was six. Four years Ginny had practiced without anyone knowing, and she intended to keep it that way.
Ginny smiled to herself, leaving her house and heading to the broom shed to select her broomstick to use for the night. Picking out one at random, she shut the broom shed door and headed out to the paddock.
Ginny was nearly to the paddock when she heard voices and stopped suddenly to listen. Two voices, she decided, were all that she could hear. One speaker was young, but rather high-class, and the other she could not differentiate.
"Ahhh," she heard the strange voice say, "Ssssomeone issss coming!"
Ginny heard a flurry of activity, and the young voice ordered, "Sssilence! I am aware, you know. Leave thisss inssstant before sshe ssseesss you."
A rustle of grass, and then there was silence. Ginny, who was quite annoyed to think that someone had been in her family's paddock (and that someone was still there), stormed into the paddock to give the trespassers a stern lecture in Molly Weasley's voice.
Not once did Ginny think about her safety, or wonder if she should get her father. She would get rid of the person by herself. Ginny stomped into the paddock and saw a cloaked figure standing there, his back to her. "What are you doing here?" she demanded.
The person turned around regally, his hands at his sides. His expression was proud, but almost kind, and he seemed intrigued and pleased by the girl in front of him. He had an air of mystery about him that made Ginny a teeny bit curious about him.
"Who are you?" Ginny asked the boy curiously; she wasn't so annoyed with him anymore. Yes, he was quite young, she realized, not much older than her brother Percy (15), but younger (she supposed) than Charlie (almost 19).
The dark-haired boy took a step toward Ginny, but stopped in hidden surprise when she demanded, "Who were you talking to a moment ago?" She looked around herself, but saw no one else.
"I was not talking to anyone," articulated the boy particularly. "It must have been the wind whispering through the trees that confused you." He spoke with absolute confidence and Ginny, looking into his dark eyes, realized that he was not a person to be trifled with.
Ginny frowned a little, and replied, "I see. Then how do you explain that I heard yourvoice telling another to leave before I saw them? It was most certainly your voice: it was cold, formal, and aloof. Except that you seemed quite a bit more relaxed speaking to the other person! Now, who was it?"
Shock briefly flickered over his face, but he cleared his face immediately. He could not believe that the fiery-haired girl in front of him had understood his conversation with the serpant he'd found in the paddock!
Decisively, he whirled around, snapping his cloak around his ankles, and hissed, "Return and ssshow yourssself!"
A single serpant slithered out of the darkness and coiled in front of the boy, awaiting further instructions. The boy turned back to Ginny, an eyebrow raised and a slight smile on his lips. "Satisfied?" he asked, but it wasn't a question.
Ginny supposed that he'd expected her to be afraid of the serpant. She was, in fact, absolutely horrified at what she'd found out: impressed, yes, but worried about the consequences. "You-you're a Parselmouth!" she blurted out, and he nodded, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. Ginny turned and began to run, but she wasn't quick enough.
The boy crossed the distance between them very quickly, and caught Ginny by the back of her robes. Ginny gasped in fright as she was roughly jerked to a stop. He took her by the arm and led her back to the serpant, who (if serpants can) looked amused.
Ginny yanked her arm away from the boy and stepped away from him, still facing him and the serpant. "Don't touch me!" she snapped at the boy.
"Then do not flee when I am endeavoring to show you something," he replied quietly. "And let me warn you, although some serpants despise those who flee from them, other enjoy hunting down their prey."
The serpant eyed Ginny and hissed, "Did I ssscare you?" Ginny could have sworn it was laughing at her. "Sssorry about that, young one."
Annoyed, Ginny stomped her foot and retorted, "Don't call me 'young one'! My name isss Ginny!"
The boy laughed, and the serpant looked shocked. "Ginny," said the snake finally, "do not run from ssserpantsss like me. You ssspeak our language; you understand usss: ussse your ability to your advantage."
Ginny sputtered in denial, and the boy laughed, then cleared his face once more. "Hush, Ginny," he said. "When you heard me telling him" the boy motioned to the snake, who looked annoyed "to leave before you came, you understood our speech. We were speaking Parseltongue; just now, you were speaking Parseltongue. You are a Parselmouth, Ginevra Molly Weasley."
She stared at him, wondering how he knew her full name. Then she sighed. "All right. Then could you please tell me who you are and why you're here?"
He drew his wand and headed toward the far side of the paddock, Ginny following his lead (the serpant left them). He set up a bench for them to sit on together, but Ginny was very reluctant to sit by him.
Looking at her, he motioned for her to sit beside him. She frowned a little, and looked scared, gasping, "You're-you're almost transparent! Are you a ghost?"
"Ginny, if I were a ghost, could I have restrained you like I did?" he asked her (he seemed to love asking questions that he already knew the answer to). "No. I am not a ghost. Sit down, and allow me to explain."
Ginny cautiously stepped up and sat down by the dark-haired boy. "All right," she said. "Go on."
He smiled slightly at her order and nodded. "My name is Riddle. Tom Riddle. I came to see and to speak with you."
Astonished, Ginny said, "To see me? And why would you want to speak to me? You're in a higher class than me, so to speak. You're more of a Malfoy level, if you know what I mean."
Tom nearly laughed, but didn't. "I understand. I'm cold and arrogant, and annoying. But I happen to be more intelligent than any of them!"
Laughing, Ginny nodded, but Riddle continued. "There are no 'classes' in between us, Ginevra. We are both Parselmouths, and that makes you and I superior to nearly everyone! Don't belittle yourself. Our ability is considered the mark of a Dark wizard/witch, but it can be used for good. And, Ginevra—don't flaunt your gift."
"Yes, Tom," said Ginny happily. Superior to the Malfoys! Ha! she thought to herself.
Surprised that he'd been addressed by his first name, Tom smirked secretly to himself. She made his name sound absolutely perfect.
He was brought back to the present by Ginny asking, "So tell me, why are you nearly transparent?" She slowly reached over and touched her fingers to the sleeve of his robe. "How can I still feel this?" She fingered the material and looked up at him.
Tom smiled ruefully and was about to answer when Ginny squealed in shock and leaped off the bench. She'd just realized that her fingers were inches away from the Slytherin House crest on his robes!
Slytherin! her mind screamed. Danger! He's a Slytherin! "You're a Slytherin!" she cried, trying to be quiet. "You shouldn't be here! It won't go well with your housemates if you're seen with me! Honestly, Tom, you should know better!"
Tom sighed, but looked straight at Ginny. "Ginevra, I am very proud to be a Slytherin, and I am honored to be a direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin." Ginny gaped, speechless. "—but I am not cruel and ruthless as you might suppose. I am not radically against Muggles as you're thinking right now, and I have no intention of hurting you. Now come back here, and let me explain to you why I'm sixteen and 'skipping' school."
Ginny slowly returned to her seat beside Tom, warily eyeing him. "All right," she whispered. "I'll try to be silent until you've finished explaining."
"Thank you. I graduated from Hogwarts nearly fifty years ago. " Tom smiled in amusement at Ginny's astonished expression. "Yes, I am sixteen still, however. In my sixth year at school, I tried to stop one of my housemates from exploring some extremely Dark magic, and was caught in what he was doing by accident. My whole self and part of him ended up trapped in a journal ever since that time. Look at your hands, Ginevra! That's what you get for touching something that's been in a book for a very long time."
The red-haired girl turned her palms up and stared at the ink stains. "And no one ever knew? Didn't your housemate ever tell anyone about the accident?"
Tom laughed derisively. "Voldemort? Tell someone he purposely trapped me, his own cousin, in a journal because I tried to stop him when he was toying with the Dark Arts? No," Tom spat out. "He never would. He always pretended he was I: destroying my reputation and making everyone believe I was the worst person to ever live. Hiding me in a book completely locked me away for a long time. I am stuck there with a part of him until something happens. It's a constant war in here: me trying to keep him from driving me insane or taking control of me. Ha! He'll never, ever leave me alone. Never. He's always hated me."
Horror filled Ginny's eyes, and she stared at Tom with a mixture of horror and admiration. "Tom, don't say—what?! He's your cousin?"
Tom scowled darkly. "Yes, he is—and don't go spreading that around. That's not something I'm proud of. But, Ginevra, there is no reason to be afraid of a name! It only increases fear of the thing or person. Anyway, yes, both he and I are descended from Salazar Slytherin, but he is unworthy of that title!"
Ginny looked confused. "Why, Tom?" she asked.
A sneer settled on Tom's face. "His mother," he said venomously, "out-bred herself to a Muggle. He was a product of a love potion his mother used on some unsuspecting Muggle. Voldemort is a half-blood. He does not deserve to be called 'Slytherin's descendant.'" Tom stared off toward the Muggle world, trying to keep his temper controlled. "I, and I alone, am the last pureblooded descendant of Salazar Slytherin. Yes, dear Ginevra, isn't it ironic? The Voldemort everyone fears is a half-blood. I am the last of the Slytherin bloodline; I do not count Voldemort worthy to list beside myself."
Tom and Ginny sat there quietly for a while, just looking away from each other, and thinking carefully. Ginny was horrified, shocked, thrilled, and amazed at what she'd just learned about the Dark Lord her parents had always taught her was to be feared. Undoubtedly, Ginny thought, if my mum and dad don't know about this then no one does. This is unbelievable!
Noticing that Tom seemed somewhat sad, Ginny shyly reached over and slipped her hand into his. He looked at her sharply, and she told him quietly, "I'm sorry, Tom. So everyone forgot you existed because he was pretending to be you?" Tom nodded solemnly. "That's terrible. I mean, if you were enrolled in Hogwarts, and he was too, then somebody should have known you disappeared when you were sixteen. Wait: you said you graduated. You did, didn't you?"
"Yes, I did. I was able to keep everyone from noticing what had happened to me: I attended classes and finished my schooling, but it was hard to keep everyone from noticing that I am nearly transparent," Tom said sarcastically. "So, I really didn't disappear until I graduated. Then I returned to the journal and hid. But it's boring to be in a book all day: I really can't see anything, and the part of my cousin that's in there only annoys me. We fight and argue inside the journal, but only I can take a corporeal form and come out."
Ginny smiled slightly. "He's more stuck than you are," she said, quite pleased.
Tom nodded. "—unless he decides to take over my body (which he can do, you know) and controls what I do out here. That's why we fight so much. He tries to make me break down and give in, but I resist with everything I have! I can't let him have me, Ginny; I just can't."
"Tom, you're extremely dangerous!" gasped Ginny, "being that close to being in his power!"
The boy sighed deeply and his face returned to its blank expression. "Yes, Ginevra," he said, "I can be caught in a fight with him at any moment, and if I'm not on my guard, it is possible for me to lose control of myself to him. It's a terrible feeling, really, and it's only happened twice." That you can remember, taunted a voice in Tom's head.
A feeling of panic rose up in Tom, but he pushed it away and blocked his cousin out. His face drawn and pale, Tom looked at Ginny, wondering what she'd think of him now.
"Oh," she whispered, "oh, Tom, I can't believe that I'm sitting here so close to someone who is: a Parselmouth, a descendant of Slytherin, a cousin of the Dark Lord, and always a second away from losing control of himself to You-know-who!"
"That's me," said Tom without amusement. "—and I have even more secrets to tell you about—and to show you when you're at school!"
Ginny smiled. "What other secrets? You have so many! What secrets can you possibly have at Hogwarts?"
Tom laughed dryly. "You'd be surprised. Some of the world's worst secrets are at Hogwarts." When Ginny seemed to doubt his words, he asked, "Ginevra, do you know anything about the Chamber of Secrets?"
Blushing a little (Ginny loved to hear Tom call her Ginevra: it made her feel quite mature), Ginny answered, "Well, Charlie—he's my second oldest brother—he told me that it's supposed to be an underground room, housing a nasty creature of some sort. Um, he said that Salazar Slytherin made it because of a disagreement with the three other Founders.
"Charlie said that, well, Slytherin kind of had a tantrum and created the Chamber before fleeing the school. Supposedly, the Chamber will be re-opened (it was supposedly opened once before) by Slytherin's Heir. Many people say that the Chamber is a legend because many wizards have searched Hogwarts for it, and it has never been found."
Ginny drew a deep breath and peered at Tom, who seemed satisfied by her answer. "Tom, what do you know about the Chamber of Secrets?" she asked him tentatively, sensing he knew something more.
Tom looked at the girl carefully, calculating how much he could trust her: after all, she was a Weasley, and they were all Gryffindors. He decided to begin with a simple statement and see how she reacted.
"The Chamber is real, Ginevra," Tom said quietly. He was pleased that her eyes widened, and then she nodded with a slight smile. "—and I am the Heir of Slytherin." He felt her hand jerk, but he tightened his grip on it in case she took it upon herself to run away again.
"So you were the one who opened the Chamber before?" Ginny gasped, nearly in tears. "You released the creature, caused all the attacks, and killed Myrtle? Tom, tell me I didn't just hear you say that you're the Heir of Slytherin!"
She took it quite badly, don't you think, cousin? said the voice again. Tom's mind was still reeling from the accusation so he was rather unguarded. He realized what was happening and gasped, "No!" out loud. Tom closed his eyes, fighting his cousin yet again.
He released Ginny's hand unknowingly and she pulled it away from him, staring at his pale, strained face. She realized what was happening and felt terrified. She put her arm around him carefully, not knowing what else to do. As she watched Tom's expression change from blank to strain to pain, she realized that the Dark Lord had most likely used his cousin to open the Chamber. Ginny felt horribly guilty for putting Tom in such a vulnerable position. She saw that her words had hurt him, even though he hid his feelings well.
Let me in! Let me in! the voice demanded of Tom's mind.
Tom's face twisted in pain. No! I won't let you hurt Ginevra! You can't have her!
My foolish cousin, sighed the voice, sarcastically sympathetic, you know I always get what I want. She doesn't trust you, O mighty Heir of Slytherin! Just let me in; I'll take care of her for you!
Why would you care about helping me? Tom thought spitefully. She believes in me; I know she want nothing except for that which will help you. I won't let you have her!
Frustrated, the voice was quiet for an instant, still fighting, but then said to Tom, You are disillusioned, Riddle. She does not trust you—and, since you haven't noticed, she has drawn away from you because you disgust her.
No! gasped Tom's mind, desperately trying to stay alert. I don't believe—oh, Ginny—! Tom's awareness receded as he slowly gave up, his face assuming a blank expression. He felt Ginny put her arm around him, and began to worry about her safety.
Just as he was giving in, he heard the red-haired girl whisper into his ear, "I understand, Tom. I'm sorry; it's not your fault: it's all his doing. I believe you, Tom; stay with me."
When Tom heard that, he forced his cousin away with a new will and opened his eyes to see Ginny watching him fearfully. Her face was pale, and her eyes were unusually bright. "Tom?" she whispered, "Are you in there?"
He laughed, a real genuine laugh. "Yes, Ginevra. I'm here. Thank you for helping me defeat him."
"Oh, Tom!" gasped Ginny, throwing her arms around his neck and squeezing him tightly. "I'm so glad! I was afraid that I'd caused—oh, I'm so glad you're all right!"
Tom was surprised that Ginny had been so worried, and felt rather awkward that she was hugging him! He gently pried her away from himself and set her back down on the bench. She looked a bit upset at first, and then blushed. "I'm sorry," she said, realizing that he wasn't used to showing any emotion, looking vulnerable, or having anyone care for him.
He smiled slightly and told her, "It's all right, but—you have ink all over you now." She looked down at her robes and Tom laughed, drawing his wand and cleaning the ink off her robes. "There you go," he told her.
She smiled at the boy. "Thank you," she said. "I forgot about that—and I don't care about it, either."
Tom nodded, returning to his blank expression. "Well, Ginevra, if you're going to practice your flying, then you should. I should be going."
"Wait, Tom," she started quickly, "do you want to watch me?"
He thought about it, then decided it was all right. "For a little bit, and then I must go," he said. "It's going to be quite late, and you should really be getting to bed."
Ginny laughed, then reached for her broomstick.