Tom Riddle relished in the long breath he took, the sound of air hissing through his nostrils and feeling of cool air in his mouth. It felt so good to just breathe again, even if the body he was using was not his own. The body felt phantom compared to his own, the sensations muted. Nevertheless, it was functional, and that was all Tom required at the moment. The connection he had managed to forge with the body was still too weak to spend much time in. The control he has was not yet quite perfect, but no matter, Tom was patient.
A stupid little girl was so easy to manipulate. Her own fault, really if she was silly enough to write in his diary each day. Exceedingly boring, but opportunities were opportunities. The thoughts she wrote were exceedingly boring and pointless.
Tom, I'm worried that I won't do well in my Charms test tomorrow! We're meant to be doing Levitation charms and I just keep dropping things. I'm going to embarrass myself in front of the whole class.
(I couldn't care less how well you do. Blood traitors like you don't deserve wands, besmirching the sacred arts of magic. You should be grateful you're allowed to even hold a wand, let alone even try and use one.)
You'll do fine, Ginny. You did so well in the theory, you know how to do this spell. You're so smart, all you need to do is to concentrate and take a deep breath before you cast.
Oh, thank you! You're so nice. If you think I can, that makes me so much more confident. I guess I'm just worried about making myself look silly.
(Of course you look ridiculous. Stupid girl, idiots like you are a blight on this community you poison every day with your traitorous blood. You don't deserve to have magic.)
You won't. Everyone in the class will be just as nervous, you're not the only one. They'll all be focused on themselves instead.
The feel of the body was becoming closer; Tom's control increasing each time he took over. He was disgusted to be reduced to using the body of a blood traitor, but it was at least functional. Frustratingly, he required nothing less than perfect control before he would be able to use the body for the necessary tasks he needed to complete.
Get up.
The body rose from the bed, far too slowly. But no matter, Tom had waited for fifty years, he could wait for this limited brain to comprehend a simple order.
Walk.
Tom only felt confusion emulating from the body. If he had a body of his own, he would have hit the stupid girl. Couldn't she understand such a simple order? Useless, stupid blood traitor. He'd enjoy seeing the life drain slowly from her eyes.
Walk up and down the dorm. Pace.
Finally, she obeyed. Couldn't even do all she was good for. Tom settled back and observed her gait. He needed to be able to mimic her perfectly before he would risk using the body too publicly. He spent an hour observing and periodically taking over to ensure he knew how to move and act correctly. Each time adjusting slightly until he was pleased in his ability to mimic the girl's walk.
It would take much more time to be able to mimic the body in all aspects, but Tom at least had decent progress to begin with.
It wasn't until October that Tom felt he could wear the body out in public. The body now fit tightly, the limbs feeling like his own. Tom waited until Ginny visited that oaf, Hagrid. Yet another blight Dumbledore allowed to exist on magic. When she left the filthy, cramped hut, Tom, from his diary in her pocket, took over.
The smell of manure permeated his nostrils, and it took a moment for him to ensure that the face he wore was relaxed. He no longer had to put up with the body's attempts to comprehend his orders, instead moving her as if it were his own body. He walked around to the side of the hut, thankfully there were no windows looking out here, to the coop. Unkempt, squawking chickens lined the perches, their dropping everywhere. Tom would have quite liked to force the girl to kill the roosters with her bare hands, allow her to find herself wandering the castle covered in blood and entrails. But unfortunately, such rash decisions would attract attention. No matter, Tom was patient. He used the body to draw the girl's wand, a very poor fit for him, but at least functional.
"Diffindo," Tom said. The chicken nearest to the wand exploded in a plume of feathers. Again and again Tom brought the wand down at the roosters, each exploding in turn. He aimed at both rooster and hen to advert Dumbledore from the purpose of their deaths. When he was finished, the body was covered in feathers and flecks of blood. He wore the body a short distance to the castle before retreating to the back of the mind.
He laughed as he watched Ginny look down at her feather and blood covered robes and scream. She raced into the castle, frantically brushing off her robes.
Someone played the most horrible prank on my today, Tom. Someone attacked the school chickens and tried to frame me! I'm so scared someone'll think it was me!
(Ah, but it was dear Ginny. You were hilarious. Poor little blood traitor, you'll be doing so much more. Whatever will you parents think?)
I'm sure you won't be. Dumbledore wouldn't let you be wrongly accused, and there isn't any proof it was you.
Thanks. Sorry to get so silly about these things. I've just been so worried, like what would Harry have said if he'd saw me?
(Wouldn't let a precious Gryffindor be accused anyway. And Harry - a boring wizard who managed to defeat the greatest sorcerer in the world. )
Harry's seems very understanding from what you've told me. He would listen to you, otherwise he isn't worth your time.
Definitely (: This morning he was so cute with Hedwig! He was feeding her bits of…
Blah. Blah Blah. Tom tuned out the girl's incessant, pointless chatter. As if anyone could possibly be interested in listening to her. There was absolutely nothing of interest in what she said; nothing he could use.
It took a frustratingly long time for Tom to speak Parseltongue in the body. The girl's tongue just couldn't get around the sounds, making Tom feel horrible as she spat and made such ridiculous sounds. But now, finally, he stood in front of the Chamber's entrance.
"Open."
With a satisfy scrape, the snakes began to move; clunks as the locks began to open. Slowly, the door opened and for the first time in fifty years, Tom saw the inside of the Chamber. He quickly crossed the wet floor, to stand under the shrewd gaze of the statue.
"Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts four," he hissed.
High above, the statue's mouth opened. Tom felt a shiver of anticipation go through him as a great body stirred inside. Slowly the basilisk emerged, it's smooth undulating body sliding down the statue until it came to a rest at it's feet.
The basilisk raised it's head, covered in almost luminescent green scales and stared with yellow eyes at the unfamiliar body before it. It's long forked tongue came out and ran over the body's face.
"Does not smell like Master," it hissed. A thrill went through Tom at the thought of this great creature calling him master.
"I wear another's body." Tom said, "Now, go and hunt."
Tom, the most dreadful thing happened today! Mrs. Norris was attacked and no one knows what happened! Even Professor Dumbledore can't fix her.
(All upset over a silly cat? Why, little blood traitor, you'll soon be responsible for far more than one petrified cat.)
What happened? That is rather concerning, do they have any leads?
No - it's really scaring everyone. I really hope they can fix poor Mrs. Norris soon.
(You really are going to be so amusing when all your mudblood friends start dying. Fear already and we've barely begun.)
I'm sure they'll work things out soon enough. How was your Potions going? You said you were struggling with that essay?
Yeah - it was that bit on daisies - I still really don't get why the bud is used so differently to the petals. I mean isn't it basically…
When Tom took over control of the body, he could still feel Ginny's mind there. A buzzing headache in the back of his head as she tried to regain control. It was a futile attempt of course, but annoying nevertheless. Still, Tom needed to keep that mind as he could yet mimic her in public, in the presence of others.
He needed to be patient; to take tiny little steps. Constant observation to see how she behaved and occasionally, taking over for short periods. As Tom was now, wearing the body as he walked from the Charms classroom down to the History of Magic classroom. Purely by coincidence, the basilisk was roaming through the pipes on the same path. Tom had just rounded a corner, when a small body crashed into his own.
"Sorry Ginny!" the boy shouted. Colin Creevey, a muggleborn, Gryffindor, the girl's mind supplied.
Tom forced the face into an apologetic smile. "That's alri-" he began to say, but the boy had already careered down the hall and around the next corner. Tom dropped the smile and the face contorted into an ugly sneer that looked nothing like Ginny Weasley. He took a moment or two to compose himself.
"That one," he hissed to the basilisk, "hunt that one."
Tom, there was another attack today! This time it was one of my friends, Colin. The worst thing is - I have no idea what I was doing for half the day. I'm starting to get these times where I can't remember anything! I'm so scared Tom!
(Don't worry, soon you won't remember anything. After all, why should blood traitors and mudblood be able to think at all?)
Nothing at all? That does sound concerning - have you told a professor?
No, I'm scared to say anything in case they suspect me.
Why would they suspect you of anything? You really should say something, then you can start getting help.
(Not that I'll let you say anything. As amusing it would be to watch you lose your mind in Azkaban, not that Dumbledore would let that happen to one of his precious blood traitors.)
Today was a rather special day for Tom. He had managed to spend a full week wearing the body, and had successfully navigated classes, mealtimes and even a few conversations in the dorm. But the close conversations in the dorm where especially difficult to navigate, and he needed to observe the girl more there. The excuse of being tired to avoid talking could only be used so much, so this evening Tom had retreated into the back of the girl's mind.
But, unfortunately, instead of talking to her dorm mates like she was meant to, the girl had decided to shut herself away with the diary to write in.
Tom, I'm so scared! There were another two attacks and I've no idea what I was doing all week!
(Are you going to bother telling me anything interesting you stupid blood traitor, or just rehash the same pointless things you do every time?)
You really can't remember anything for the whole week? You haven't told a professor yet?
No, I think they might suspect me! I really don't know what to do.
Why don't you try and get some sleep, Ginny? Then in the morning make sure you tell someone, you really do need to.
I'll try to. Thanks, Tom. I'm so glad I've got you to talk to!
Tom was furious -with himself, mostly. His attention had lapsed, and the girl had managed to seize control for a short time. Finally, she had become suspicious of the diary, and had attempted to get rid of it, ironically in the same bathroom the enter to the Chamber lay. He had only just managed to take possession back of the body to grab the diary before it went missing down a toilet.
He cast a few quick drying charms on his robes and stormed up to the dorm. A hand caught his shoulder, Tom quickly ensured there was a look of innocent surprise on the girl's face before he looked around at an older red head. Percy, one of her many blood traitor brothers. Percy was looking at Ginny with concern, his forehead wrinkled up.
"Are you alright, Ginny?" he asked.
"Yeah, I'm fine, just a little tired, Percy," Ginny said in a small voice.
Percy's forehead wrinkled even more. "Look," he said awkwardly, "I know all of this is stressful, so if you need anything you know you can come talk to me? They'll find out who's behind this soon, okay?"
"Thanks Percy, I will," said Ginny and gave him a quick hug.
Much to Tom's pleasure, Percy seemed to accept this answer and wandered off again. Perhaps that incident was a last ditch attempt for poor Ginny to throw him out. Her mind was barely making a buzz at the back of his own now, and he could easily retain control for weeks at a time. If in a week there were no more incidents, then it would be time to move onto new plans and courses of action.
A week later, Ginny raced into the Gryffindor common room, tears streaming from her eyes. She looked fretfully around the packed common room,
"Harry!" she shouted when she saw him, and rushed over.
"Do you know where Ron is?" he asked in a worried voice.
Ginny was shaking badly and through her tears and hitching breaths she was barely comprehensible. "Oh this is awful," she wailed, "I snuck into the teacher's lounge and they said Ron, tha-tha-that he had been taken! They said into the Chamber! Oh, Harry, we've got to go rescue him!"
A look of pure determination crossed Harry's face. "Don't worry," he said, "we'll get him out. I'll just go get my cloak, yeah?"
Ginny nodded, looking as though she might faint at any moment. "Okay," she said.
"Quick, close your eyes," said Harry, "I think there's something just ahead."
But Ginny shook her head, strangely calm. "I think it's dead," she said, "it doesn't seem to be moving."
They cautiously crept forwards, Harry ready to shut his eyes at the slightest movement. "It's alright, Ginny," he said. "It's just a skin." He let out a sigh of relief.
"Ginny, where are you?"
For a moment or two, there was only the sound of his own breathing and the drip-drip of water. Then, something very large moved up ahead. "I'm right here, Harry," came a voice. Harry turned around. It was Ginny, but the smile, hungry and bloodthirsty was not her, and the voice was all wrong.
He crept forwards. "Ginny?"
Ginny felt as though she was in a pitch-black tunnel. I'm here! I'm here! She couldn't go forwards nor backwards. Please, someone! It's the diary, not me! No - not Harry, please, please, please not Harry! Stop it!
But her shouts were silence in the mind of Tom Riddle.
A/N: Written for Assignment 11: Transfiguration Task 2
Write about a character pretending to be someone they're not.
Word count: 2,581