Pain, black pain was all he could feel. That and the deep void within
himself. He fluttered to consciousness once more to feel his bindings
around him. He was trapped. A prisoner in his own creation. He'd gotten
out once. But the Potter boy had sealed his fate when he'd stabbed him
with the basilisk fang. Now he was trapped in a damaged book that had been
thrown away. According to his estimations he'd been trapped for at least
five years. He should've been insane now; the pain and the void inside of
him should have taken his last shred of sanity.
But he still hung on. One picture in his mind kept him going. A girl with hair like fire, so innocent and pure. He'd destroyed that innocence, and for some reason he'd felt regret for the first time. Not just a twinge either, but a deep tearing regret. Why should he feel for her so? She was a Weasley, from a family of mudblood lovers.
Even as he said the word mudblood he felt a stirring in his mind. Tom knew what he'd grown into, but inside his prison, he hadn't attained the level of hate that had consumed his older self. On some level he knew muggles weren't terrible. Sure, a few were, but that could be said anywhere. That was why he thought of Ginny. She had been the light to his darkness. For fifty years he'd remained in the diary, his hate left to fester. He came close to his older self, but he hadn't planned on the effect Ginny would have on him.
She had been a thread of golden light, of hope that managed to cut through his darkness. And he'd nearly killed it. When he'd finally controlled her and had taken her to the Chamber of Secrets, he was torn in two. On one level, he knew he was doing what he'd been programmed to do. Kill her and Potter. But on another, deeper level, he screamed objection in his mind. Perhaps that was why he'd let Fawkes heal Potter. He knew deep inside what the phoenix would do, and he allowed it to happen. He allowed himself to be destroyed in order to save Ginny. For to let her die would be the greatest tragedy to befall this world.
But he hadn't died. He awoke months later, still trapped in the ruined diary, but he was no longer driven by the all-consuming rage that had controlled his actions all his life. He no longer felt to need to revenge himself on all muggles. He still had many dislikes about him, but years of thinking had mitigated his emotions. The only one he felt now was regret. He would never see his fiery angel again. He would never be able to apologize, to make up for all the damage he'd done. Never able to stand up to his other self. If only he had another chance! He'd show her that she was his world, his sun, his stars, the very air he breathed! He could fix things or at least die trying. He could reclaim his soul.
He sent a silent, soulful plea up to the heavens, not knowing why he did. He'd never been answered before. But something was different this time. Whether the powers that be had just taken notice of him, or if maybe, just maybe his heart had finally been ready, they gave him an answer.
"Hey, I think I found it Colin!" The sandy-haired boy looked up at his friend. He and Dean had been searching for Tom Riddle's diary for weeks now it seemed. It seemed like something to give to Ginny. Maybe they'd get a reaction out of her. It was fun to leer at her. Sure Potter and his two tagalongs stood up for her, and so did the most of the seventh years, but they couldn't do anything to stop the rest of them when they were absent. He laughed to himself, remembering last week when someone had rigged Ginny's prefect room. Specifically the door, it had been set to dump an assortment of animal insides on her when she opened it. The resounding shriek had been priceless.
She'd run down the hall, blood dripping from her brand new robes as she tried to reach the bathroom. One of the fifth years had reached her foot out and tripped the girl and she'd fallen flat on her face. Another girl sat on her, taunting her. It had gone on for a few more minutes when Professor McGonagall had rounded the corner having heard Ginny's cries. Needless to say they had all been given a week's detention, but it was worth it.
"Say, Colin, what do you think she'll do when this mysteriously turns up in her room?" Colin laughed and mimicked a high-pitched shrieking. "Just remember, we'll have to put a snake in her room, make her think Riddle is back." The two boys jauntily walked back to the castle to carry out their newest plan of abuse.
Tom, inside of his diary heard of their plan and was trying to get out at the moment to rip their heads off. His Ginny was being abused! He was getting his chance now, he knew. He'd have to play his cards very carefully. His angel needed protecting, and he was just the one to do it. But first he had to regain his angel's trust. He had to win her heart.
Ginny crept back up to her prefect's room, trying to avoid anyone in the halls as well as trying to check and see if anything looked amiss. Her shoulders were hunched over, her head bent down. One would think that such a posture would be extremely painful after some time, but to Ginny, she didn't know how to carry herself any other way. Years of taunts and abuse accustomed her to it. She looked like a cornered animal most of the time.
She opened her door and was met with another shower, though this time it was only cold water. She sighed and shut her door. She really needed to figure out a locking charm to keep the others out. She turned to her bed and proceeded to change out of her now wet clothes. Her room had books and scrolls lining the shelves and floor. It was almost as bad as Hermione's room. Studying was all she had to keep herself together, and she had top marks in her class. Changing into a set of handed down clothes she studied herself in the mirror. She vaguely remembered herself when she first came to Hogwarts. A far cry from this. Where her eyes used to be bright and clear, warm and inviting, they were now hollow and haunted, cowered with endless depths of depression. Dark purple rings were permanently seen under them. Her hair, once vibrant and shiny now looked limp and dull. Her rosy, slightly flushed skin was now a deathly shade of pale. Her skinny body was painfully obvious, the result of not being able to eat half her food due to her classmates pranks and not wanting to eat the rest.
All in all she resembled a walking corpse, someone simply waiting for death to take them away and let them leave their horrid life behind. She sighed and walked back to her bed to sit down. Something hard and unyielding prodded her and she stood up puzzled. Drawing back the covers, she let out a shrill scream and fainted. Tom Riddle's diary was on her bed.
She awoke to find herself tucked under the covers, her sleeping robe on. The fireplace in her room had been lit. Her discarded robes were now dry and clean, hanging in the corner. She wistfully thought of her new robes, now ruined. She'd saved for months to buy them and they were gone in less than a day. Shaking from the memory, she suddenly remembered why she'd fainted in the first place. She bolted upright in the bed and scanned the room. She didn't see any sign of the diary and she wondered if she'd hallucinated it.
How did she get in bed then? She carefully pulled the covers back and clasped her hands to her mouth. The diary was on the floor. And it was open, with a message on it. With shaking hands, she snapped it up and ran over to the fireplace, intent on burning the object that had ruined her life. She paused, her hands directly over the flame. She wanted to burn it, but she couldn't. Something held her back. Why should she let this thing stay here? This diary that had been the worst thing to ever happen to her.
Her hands dipped too low and came in contact with the flame. She jerked them back and the book landed back near her bed. She cradled the backs of her hands to her, trying to stop the burning. Then the book flipped open and a message appeared on the page, forming around the hole in the center. Trembling, she leaned over and read it.
"Put your hands on me."
Oh God, Tom was still alive. She should just kill herself now. Wait a minute, did he think she was stupid? Like hell, she'd touch that diary. She waited, trying to decide what to do. The pages of the diary fluttered and the message disappeared to be replaced by a new one.
"Put your hands on my pages so I can heal them, they must be hurting."
Ginny thought she must be mad to obey, but her hands hurt so badly and it had been so long since anyone expressed concern for her. She sighed. "What the hell, might as well, my life can't really get any worse."
She placed her hands on the book and felt an odd tingling sensation. It wasn't painful, far from it actually. It felt rather pleasurable and she felt safe for some reason. She hadn't felt safe for a long time. She watched as the burns on her hands slowly healed over, when it was done she pulled them away.
"Do they feel better now?"
Ginny stood up and reached for a quill from her desk.
"Yes, they do. Why did you do that?"
"Do what?"
"Heal my hands. If you don't recall, last time I had you, you were about to kill me. Why are you here?"
Tom was jumping up and down. Ginny was writing to him. After she'd fainted, he focused his power and managed to get her into bed. For some reason, he wasn't powerless like he was last time. He could see too, and that overjoyed him. Except for looking at his angel. She looked so pale and sad and haunted. He would personally make everyone of her tormentors pay for what they'd done.
"To fix the mess of things I left behind angel."
"You're about five years too late for that Tom."
"It's never too late to amend one's past and redeem themselves. You told me that Ginny, you told me you believed that I still had a shred of goodness left in me. I do angel, I do. Let me prove it to you. Let me take care of you."
"Oh no you don't, this is going no where good very fast. I won't let you use me again."
"Ginny, give me a chance. I'd never dream of hurting you, I'd tear my heart out first."
"Why are you being so melodramatic Tom? I don't think it suits you very well."
"I'm merely being passionate about taking care of you angel. It's obvious no one else has."
"ARGH! Tom, stop this! I bet they rigged you or something. I hate pity. Why can't they just leave me alone?! Why are you doing this? Why am I so important? I'm just a whiny schoolgirl remember?"
She waited for the next reply for sometime and was almost ready to shut the diary, thinking he wasn't going to answer.
"I don't pity you angel. I want to take care of you. I used you and nearly destroyed you, and for that there is no excuse and no apology will ever make up for it. But, I can help you now, I can repay you for helping me. Ginny, I was lost to hate until you started writing in me, you are my light and my very life. You taught me how to love again. Except now, through my actions, you have forgotten how yourself, you have forgotten how to live. I want to see you happy again angel, I miss seeing you smile. Please, give me a chance. One week is all I ask. If you still want to get rid of me after that, you may. I hope you won't."
"I must be crazy, but ok. The first time I think something is up however, and you're going back to the fire. And what did you call me?"
"Angel. My fiery angel. Now, let's get started shall we? First things first. Your hair."
"What about my hair?
"Let me fix it."
Ginny cocked an eyebrow up.
"How?"
"Let me out of the diary, before you say no, I promise I won't do anything. Just place your hands on the book and concentrate on the picture of me being in front of you."
"Now I know I'm crazy. I suppose when I let you out and you kill me, you'll at least kill the rest of the rotten bunch here too." With that she placed her hands on the diary and did as Tom asked.
Then she watched in horror as the diary turned to dust and Tom materialized in front of her. Now he couldn't go back into the diary. What had she done?!
Tom shook his head slightly, suddenly leaving his prison disoriented him. He glanced towards Ginny and saw that she had a look of sheer terror on her face.
Ginny braced herself and screwed her eyes shut. Nothing happened and she wondered if Tom was toying with her. She waited for the words Avada Kedavra, but they never came. Suddenly, she felt a pair of warm, strong arms engulf her slender body and they hugged her to them. Tom was giving her a hug? Lord Voldemort was giving her a hug?! She struggled against him, but his right hand guided her head to his shoulder and he clasped her to his solid chest. She didn't know why she chose at that moment to burst out into tears, but they came in torrents and her sobbing filled the room. It had been so long since someone had done this.
But he still hung on. One picture in his mind kept him going. A girl with hair like fire, so innocent and pure. He'd destroyed that innocence, and for some reason he'd felt regret for the first time. Not just a twinge either, but a deep tearing regret. Why should he feel for her so? She was a Weasley, from a family of mudblood lovers.
Even as he said the word mudblood he felt a stirring in his mind. Tom knew what he'd grown into, but inside his prison, he hadn't attained the level of hate that had consumed his older self. On some level he knew muggles weren't terrible. Sure, a few were, but that could be said anywhere. That was why he thought of Ginny. She had been the light to his darkness. For fifty years he'd remained in the diary, his hate left to fester. He came close to his older self, but he hadn't planned on the effect Ginny would have on him.
She had been a thread of golden light, of hope that managed to cut through his darkness. And he'd nearly killed it. When he'd finally controlled her and had taken her to the Chamber of Secrets, he was torn in two. On one level, he knew he was doing what he'd been programmed to do. Kill her and Potter. But on another, deeper level, he screamed objection in his mind. Perhaps that was why he'd let Fawkes heal Potter. He knew deep inside what the phoenix would do, and he allowed it to happen. He allowed himself to be destroyed in order to save Ginny. For to let her die would be the greatest tragedy to befall this world.
But he hadn't died. He awoke months later, still trapped in the ruined diary, but he was no longer driven by the all-consuming rage that had controlled his actions all his life. He no longer felt to need to revenge himself on all muggles. He still had many dislikes about him, but years of thinking had mitigated his emotions. The only one he felt now was regret. He would never see his fiery angel again. He would never be able to apologize, to make up for all the damage he'd done. Never able to stand up to his other self. If only he had another chance! He'd show her that she was his world, his sun, his stars, the very air he breathed! He could fix things or at least die trying. He could reclaim his soul.
He sent a silent, soulful plea up to the heavens, not knowing why he did. He'd never been answered before. But something was different this time. Whether the powers that be had just taken notice of him, or if maybe, just maybe his heart had finally been ready, they gave him an answer.
"Hey, I think I found it Colin!" The sandy-haired boy looked up at his friend. He and Dean had been searching for Tom Riddle's diary for weeks now it seemed. It seemed like something to give to Ginny. Maybe they'd get a reaction out of her. It was fun to leer at her. Sure Potter and his two tagalongs stood up for her, and so did the most of the seventh years, but they couldn't do anything to stop the rest of them when they were absent. He laughed to himself, remembering last week when someone had rigged Ginny's prefect room. Specifically the door, it had been set to dump an assortment of animal insides on her when she opened it. The resounding shriek had been priceless.
She'd run down the hall, blood dripping from her brand new robes as she tried to reach the bathroom. One of the fifth years had reached her foot out and tripped the girl and she'd fallen flat on her face. Another girl sat on her, taunting her. It had gone on for a few more minutes when Professor McGonagall had rounded the corner having heard Ginny's cries. Needless to say they had all been given a week's detention, but it was worth it.
"Say, Colin, what do you think she'll do when this mysteriously turns up in her room?" Colin laughed and mimicked a high-pitched shrieking. "Just remember, we'll have to put a snake in her room, make her think Riddle is back." The two boys jauntily walked back to the castle to carry out their newest plan of abuse.
Tom, inside of his diary heard of their plan and was trying to get out at the moment to rip their heads off. His Ginny was being abused! He was getting his chance now, he knew. He'd have to play his cards very carefully. His angel needed protecting, and he was just the one to do it. But first he had to regain his angel's trust. He had to win her heart.
Ginny crept back up to her prefect's room, trying to avoid anyone in the halls as well as trying to check and see if anything looked amiss. Her shoulders were hunched over, her head bent down. One would think that such a posture would be extremely painful after some time, but to Ginny, she didn't know how to carry herself any other way. Years of taunts and abuse accustomed her to it. She looked like a cornered animal most of the time.
She opened her door and was met with another shower, though this time it was only cold water. She sighed and shut her door. She really needed to figure out a locking charm to keep the others out. She turned to her bed and proceeded to change out of her now wet clothes. Her room had books and scrolls lining the shelves and floor. It was almost as bad as Hermione's room. Studying was all she had to keep herself together, and she had top marks in her class. Changing into a set of handed down clothes she studied herself in the mirror. She vaguely remembered herself when she first came to Hogwarts. A far cry from this. Where her eyes used to be bright and clear, warm and inviting, they were now hollow and haunted, cowered with endless depths of depression. Dark purple rings were permanently seen under them. Her hair, once vibrant and shiny now looked limp and dull. Her rosy, slightly flushed skin was now a deathly shade of pale. Her skinny body was painfully obvious, the result of not being able to eat half her food due to her classmates pranks and not wanting to eat the rest.
All in all she resembled a walking corpse, someone simply waiting for death to take them away and let them leave their horrid life behind. She sighed and walked back to her bed to sit down. Something hard and unyielding prodded her and she stood up puzzled. Drawing back the covers, she let out a shrill scream and fainted. Tom Riddle's diary was on her bed.
She awoke to find herself tucked under the covers, her sleeping robe on. The fireplace in her room had been lit. Her discarded robes were now dry and clean, hanging in the corner. She wistfully thought of her new robes, now ruined. She'd saved for months to buy them and they were gone in less than a day. Shaking from the memory, she suddenly remembered why she'd fainted in the first place. She bolted upright in the bed and scanned the room. She didn't see any sign of the diary and she wondered if she'd hallucinated it.
How did she get in bed then? She carefully pulled the covers back and clasped her hands to her mouth. The diary was on the floor. And it was open, with a message on it. With shaking hands, she snapped it up and ran over to the fireplace, intent on burning the object that had ruined her life. She paused, her hands directly over the flame. She wanted to burn it, but she couldn't. Something held her back. Why should she let this thing stay here? This diary that had been the worst thing to ever happen to her.
Her hands dipped too low and came in contact with the flame. She jerked them back and the book landed back near her bed. She cradled the backs of her hands to her, trying to stop the burning. Then the book flipped open and a message appeared on the page, forming around the hole in the center. Trembling, she leaned over and read it.
"Put your hands on me."
Oh God, Tom was still alive. She should just kill herself now. Wait a minute, did he think she was stupid? Like hell, she'd touch that diary. She waited, trying to decide what to do. The pages of the diary fluttered and the message disappeared to be replaced by a new one.
"Put your hands on my pages so I can heal them, they must be hurting."
Ginny thought she must be mad to obey, but her hands hurt so badly and it had been so long since anyone expressed concern for her. She sighed. "What the hell, might as well, my life can't really get any worse."
She placed her hands on the book and felt an odd tingling sensation. It wasn't painful, far from it actually. It felt rather pleasurable and she felt safe for some reason. She hadn't felt safe for a long time. She watched as the burns on her hands slowly healed over, when it was done she pulled them away.
"Do they feel better now?"
Ginny stood up and reached for a quill from her desk.
"Yes, they do. Why did you do that?"
"Do what?"
"Heal my hands. If you don't recall, last time I had you, you were about to kill me. Why are you here?"
Tom was jumping up and down. Ginny was writing to him. After she'd fainted, he focused his power and managed to get her into bed. For some reason, he wasn't powerless like he was last time. He could see too, and that overjoyed him. Except for looking at his angel. She looked so pale and sad and haunted. He would personally make everyone of her tormentors pay for what they'd done.
"To fix the mess of things I left behind angel."
"You're about five years too late for that Tom."
"It's never too late to amend one's past and redeem themselves. You told me that Ginny, you told me you believed that I still had a shred of goodness left in me. I do angel, I do. Let me prove it to you. Let me take care of you."
"Oh no you don't, this is going no where good very fast. I won't let you use me again."
"Ginny, give me a chance. I'd never dream of hurting you, I'd tear my heart out first."
"Why are you being so melodramatic Tom? I don't think it suits you very well."
"I'm merely being passionate about taking care of you angel. It's obvious no one else has."
"ARGH! Tom, stop this! I bet they rigged you or something. I hate pity. Why can't they just leave me alone?! Why are you doing this? Why am I so important? I'm just a whiny schoolgirl remember?"
She waited for the next reply for sometime and was almost ready to shut the diary, thinking he wasn't going to answer.
"I don't pity you angel. I want to take care of you. I used you and nearly destroyed you, and for that there is no excuse and no apology will ever make up for it. But, I can help you now, I can repay you for helping me. Ginny, I was lost to hate until you started writing in me, you are my light and my very life. You taught me how to love again. Except now, through my actions, you have forgotten how yourself, you have forgotten how to live. I want to see you happy again angel, I miss seeing you smile. Please, give me a chance. One week is all I ask. If you still want to get rid of me after that, you may. I hope you won't."
"I must be crazy, but ok. The first time I think something is up however, and you're going back to the fire. And what did you call me?"
"Angel. My fiery angel. Now, let's get started shall we? First things first. Your hair."
"What about my hair?
"Let me fix it."
Ginny cocked an eyebrow up.
"How?"
"Let me out of the diary, before you say no, I promise I won't do anything. Just place your hands on the book and concentrate on the picture of me being in front of you."
"Now I know I'm crazy. I suppose when I let you out and you kill me, you'll at least kill the rest of the rotten bunch here too." With that she placed her hands on the diary and did as Tom asked.
Then she watched in horror as the diary turned to dust and Tom materialized in front of her. Now he couldn't go back into the diary. What had she done?!
Tom shook his head slightly, suddenly leaving his prison disoriented him. He glanced towards Ginny and saw that she had a look of sheer terror on her face.
Ginny braced herself and screwed her eyes shut. Nothing happened and she wondered if Tom was toying with her. She waited for the words Avada Kedavra, but they never came. Suddenly, she felt a pair of warm, strong arms engulf her slender body and they hugged her to them. Tom was giving her a hug? Lord Voldemort was giving her a hug?! She struggled against him, but his right hand guided her head to his shoulder and he clasped her to his solid chest. She didn't know why she chose at that moment to burst out into tears, but they came in torrents and her sobbing filled the room. It had been so long since someone had done this.