5-27-10
Disclaimer: I don't own the rights. They belong to J.K. Rowling & WB Pictures.
RED
Blood...
It spills to the street into rivers that look like rich red wine. The blood of the Innocent, those who were defenseless, the blood of whom were not worthy in his cruel red eyes.
She tried her best to change his views, that she did. But why would he ever listen?
His victim she was from so long ago. Back then she was an 11 year old girl just learning how to use a wand, just attending the school he now controlled. He had been her best friend and confidant, yet he had never once considered anyone a friend.
She poured to him her heart and soul. He drank them up leaving her tainted with the darkness that ran through him.
He had been thought to be destroyed, to be dead. But a memory cannot die. Not if someone still holds it close to them, even in the farthest reaches of their subconscious mind.
Then he had been brought back, restored, revived. He wanted his revenge, to see the unworthy die... but in order for that to happen, he hid away... then waited. After all, he was very good at waiting.
Blood...
The color of her hair, the color warm in her lightly tainted heart.
Her eyes were wide when he came back into her life, ready to destroy anything that stood in his was. He smiled as he took her hand and pulled her back into the darkness that he'd always lurked in. He was ready to finish what he'd started all those years ago, so he took his wand and muttered a charm, and watched her pale sweet skin slice open.
Blood
He sits still and looks into those deep brown eyes, her red hair blowing in silent breeze; then he puts the picture down.
He pulls his fine wand from his sleeve and mutters a spell. Fire erupts from the tip, shooting into a fire well before him.
He then walks to a book shelf in the far corner of the room, and pulls off it a black leather bound book and opens it to it's first page. He seats himself down in his plush green chair placing the book on his lap, and from his left takes a gray quill from an ink well. Then he draws his attention back to the book and writes in his spidery wand writing. The letters look ghostly among the fires light, and he needs to blink multiple times to regain focus. He closes the book, and walks away, leaving it with a tattered picture... one that he now finds he no cares about.
He casts locking charm on the door, intending to lock it forever. He no longer needs that room.
He disappears from the sight.
The ground shakes violently the ancient stone crumbles, but then in an instant the illusion is gone, he stands out under the starry sky and casts one more lock upon the door. The ancient wards have been broken with the blood he's inherited from a founder, the founder he believes to have been the strongest. He walks away, never to step back to the old schools ruins. As stalks off he tries to push out thoughts of blood red hair blowing in that silent breeze. Tries to forget chocolate brown eyes silently pleading with him. He clenches a fist and sneers out into the night around him.
"Power will always be the most important thing to me, love. You can't change that, no matter how hard you try. I will never change who I am, no excuse me, what I should be. In the end I have already won this battle and I will win all the others." Those words he says. He watches her look away, but sees her turn to face him once she asks him so innocently "Why are you doing such merciless things?" He looks down upon her, and laughs coldly and says "Mercy is what the weak show, I will never fall into such weakness." And she looks away.
Her family stays still memories of their precious girl. Where is she now? That's the thing that runs past. She told them she would go change him, but they tried to make her stay. Their darling little daughter now has run away. They mourn her and the light she brought to them. They know she did not change him and they stay hidden all away. Loss has followed them so freely, of a son, and his friend. But where is the blood red haired girl? Will they ever see her again?
They mourned her when she left a letter, mourned her when she did not come home. But before that happened, they told her not to speak of Him. She told them he was calling for her, that his voice still whispered sweet words in her ear. Saint Mungos was only a floo away, but they never did want to bring her. So when she left she wrote them letters, letting them know she was alive. But the streets now are littered in what looks like red wine. The color hurts, the color stains, the color of her hair. They can only look back at memories, and read the final things in her diary...not really secrets, but things she sees, things she left them, just in case...
She awakens on a Sunday morning in her hand me downs, her prized possessions; her valued treasures. She now is in a pair of tattered old shoes, a torn old knitted jacket that has been patched up so many times that it is multicolored. She wares old patched and ripped muggle jeans, and an old sweater. She walks happily down old stairs, leading to a tiny old kitchen. Her mum is cooking a meal for kings, all whilst humming a soft old tune.
She looks to an old long table with mis-matched chairs of all colors and sizes. She closes her eyes and the old table is gold, with the most marvelous silverware the world could behold. She opens her eyes, and walks to a seat, its old wooden legs are not even, she sits down and it wobbles.
She closes her eyes yet again and the chair is her thrown. She looks down to her self, on her gold thrown, and is dressed in the most beautiful clothes she has ever seen. She is a princess who wears old tattered clothes, who looks like all the others in her palace, but she's always been special in her own way, and she wears a crown made of flowers, and with her wand she holds much power.
Her father is away at work for the ministry, her mother tells her this, which cause's the girl to nod a simple yes. Just then her focus comes to the stairs, where her brother comes down with two of his best friends. They acknowledge her presence, with a wave and nod. She moves her head, to a boy with black hair and a sacred scar. She swears she could hear someone whisper in her ear, the voice so familiar, but she can't place it. The voice tells her to stop looking at the boy, and she listens so loyally to it, and just wonders why.
She shakes it off, as her mum drops three large pancakes on her plate. Her mum tells her to eat up, for she is rather thin. Then the girl just laughs, and tells her dear old mum, that's just the way she will always be.
Her mother smiles, and walks over to her laughing brother, and she closes her eyes, and sees a red haired Court Jester, who's laugh is hearty, who makes a crowd laugh, but her gaze is moved, and her sense's blocked, she sees a prince with dark black hair, and deep lethal blue eyes, his hair neat, not messy, like she expects. Then he walks over and whispers in her ear, his chilling cold voice runs through her head.
She opens her eyes and sees no gold, only the old beaten up home that is her palace, the place filled with old childhood dreams, a place that will never be empty, a place always alive in her heart, she will never forget it, she knows that all too well.
After the battle, when he has won...
He proudly sits upon a thrown put together with the bones of his fallen enemies. Upon his face he wears an ornate mask, which underneath hides a proud knowing smirk. He holds meetings in the chamber in which he sits, and lazily throws curses at those who let him down; those who didn't bother to listen. Some scream out in pain, some drop to the floor never to awaken again. He smiles to himself, knowing that he's finally gained all the power he ever wanted.
Walking away to the cold outdoors; under the blood red sky, he watches a family walk by. They are dressed in rags and they remind him of her, he looks away. He decides to spare them for that day, then he walks to a garden where snakes linger. He hisses to them and watches as they all obey and slither far away. He then sets his gaze on a weeping willow that stands over a pond. He walks over to the old tree and leans onto its trunk gazing down to his reflection in the water. His black hair is falling down to his eyes and he pushes back the loose strands of hair, then swears he could hear a girl laughing. He turns his head and sees no one is there, he is just haunted by her memory.
He close's his eyes as a silent breeze quickly blows by him, it brings with it the cold of the season, the harder months to come. He leaves the tree and walks back to the cold castle, bidding an elf to close the heavy doors behind him.
Before the battle...
Dancing so slow in her princess' gown, spinning round and round. Blood red hair, moves in a swift breeze as he pulls her close against him. She rests her head upon his chest, her eyes shut gently. He then lets her go, and walks away. Like always he leaves her alone.
She opens her eyes and her mother motions her over, she tells her to call for her brothers since dinner is almost done. She blinks a few times, and sits there trying figure out what she was day dreaming.
All her day dreams are just so rich, from the gold of a goblet to pure silver of knifes, to beautiful glass chandeliers. She then thinks it were Harry who she danced with in dreams, and grins a privet grin. Yet in the back of her head a voice has said that she already knows who it really were, she shakes the thought free, then goes and gets her older brothers. She takes her place at her make believe thrown and eats a meal cooked with love. When that is done she runs up the old stairs to her bed and falls asleep, just to dream a marvelous dream, and to see who her dance partner is tonight. She knows already who he really is, just doesn't want to acknowledge who he'll become.
Her dreams are always haunted by his face, burnt into the backs of her eyes. He haunts her mind, and is the black shadow in her chocolate eyes. His voice rings in her ears, and he calls to her. Her brain tells her that he is dead, that he could never come back. Harry killed him, the diary is gone... at least that was what they said. She sees more and more of his handsome face, and tells herself looks could be deceiving. But it gets harder and harder as he looks at her with false sorrow, and whispers sweet lies into her ears.
Tonight she sits in her room, combing her hair, looks at her reflection, and sees a shard of her soul. Her mirror image shows something else, a girl dressed in a silver and green gown. She blinks and blinks, then it goes away, and she thinks she sees him there. His lethal green eyes, they capture her so easily, he seems so trustworthy, she is falling into his trap. She puts her hand to the mirror, and goes to touch his face, but cuts her hand on the broken glass, and in the back of her head hears a cold laugh. She runs from her room, tears dampen her cheeks, she runs to her mother like when she was young, and asks for her cut to be healed.
He would have a plan so he would call on the girl. The girl who he remembered when she had blood red curls. She listened to him way back then, but he had control over her. She called him her very best friend and when he asked if she would always help him, in the end, she said yes. That contract is still binding, and now he needs her, and it is finally time. She will have to listen, or will lose her life. He doesn't care too much, not really. All he cares for is gaining his allies, and gaining his power.
He wants her on his side for she could get to Potter. Get the boy-who-lived right where he wants him. She will probably cry and beg for the boys life. But then he being Tom will tell her she did this, and he'll grin as she chokes on her tears.
He is bored and sitting alone. There's no one around for him to talk too, no one he'd even want to talk too. He stands up and walks away to the long old dungeon, then grins a dark grin. He looks into old rusted cells and sees a red haired boy. Red hair that is lighter then hers, but similar none the less. Her brother sits his head down, knees to his face, arms wrapped around his legs. If she could see him now, she would be horrified. He nearly laughs at the thought. The teen looks up at his captor, empty pale blue eyes almost begging for an answer. Tom walks off, knowing that the girls brother will undergo more torment not knowing whats become of the girl.
Not too long ago he would be playing a game of chess against his little sister. Be it at school, or home, a fire would be crackling as the pieces moved in their game of war. Maybe once or twice he would let her win a game, just to see the proud smile play upon her face. He adored his little sister, and vowed he'd always protect her.
He followed her and his friend, and saw many meet their ends. He followed after his friend had fallen, did the best he could. He figured if he died, it would be to protect his sister, and avenge any deaths that occurred. But he saw the rags turn into riches, the choice his sister could take. Only did he hear in the end that everything has an end, no matter what road you take.
So he really does not know sitting in his prison with his fears his only company, shuddering in the cold and pretending that there aren't any spiders lurking around.
Tom walks out to where he laid her to rest. He's charmed the area to always flower, even if it's miserable outside.
She rests six feet under, dressed in a gown fit for a princess. She's still waiting for her prince to come wake her from an eternal sleep. The problem is, her prince doesn't seem to be coming anytime soon. Her prince has much important things to do, and at her grave he whispers to her.
"Forget the problems of the world, they cant help you through, don't mind the blood in the soil, its just another problem for you. Sleep for now, love. Maybe, just maybe your prince will rescue you."
Long ago the world was different, well not that long ago. Once the half, pure, and muggle studied under the same roof. But now the school is condemned, books may crumble at a mere gentle touch. The school is more of a wicked place, where corpses lay and spend their day. In the old school, not a single Slytherin will be found roaming the halls; only few Gryffindor's who were not brave enough will walk in eternity to the common room or next class. The Hufflepuff's are many, and the Ravenclaw's are less. Their ghosts wander from hall to hall lead by devoted teachers who couldn't bring themselves to leave these scared children.
He doesn't care about the ghosts though, doesn't care the school is in ruins. This was his retaliation. The school is simply a burial ground now, and a reminder to him of what he was denied it in the past. Things did not need to end up this way, but this was just a side effect of the war.
Sure he won a battle on the old school grounds, sure he had once called the place his home. Yet now he is happy to simply leave these grounds all alone. He considers them sacred, and knows he isn't worthy to step back on such sacred soil.
The Boy-Who-Lived didn't win, the world is but a mere shadow, and the death toll is rising every day. Teachers ghosts will forever recall things they were once told. Like for instance, there was once a girl with blood red curls, who while possessed opened the chamber of secrets, and set chaos free. Then years after those tragic times, she was the next to die at the hands of the boy who played the role as the perfect head boy. This is the story spoken among the young ghosts as well, who now crowd around the first victim of the boy, to hear her sad short story, oh joy.
The original version of this was written back in 2004 when I was 13 years old. This isn't done though. I'm not sure how I'm going to continue, I just know I'm not going to take the original down. I've only changed a few things in this, stupid grammatical errors and what not. Some stuff is new writing though.
Thank you for taking the time to read this. I really enjoyed going back to this story. It was the second thing I ever wrote in the Tom/Ginny pairing. I had a whole lot of plans for this I remember, I had planned to explain what happened to lead to Ginny's death, but I guess I never got around to that, haha.
:R-S:
