AU from second year. Tom Riddle manages to absorb Ginny's energy in the Chamber of Secrets. He is restored as a complete person -- now, how will Harry deal with two Voldemorts on the loose? And how will they deal with each other?

* * * Chapter 1: A Welcoming Home * * *

"How did Ginny get like this?" Harry Potter asked slowly.

"Well, that's an interesting question," Tom Riddle said pleasantly. "I'll tell you all about it – quite soon. Stupefy." A flash of red lit up the entire chamber and a bolt of magical force blasted into Harry's chest, knocking him down and out.

Tom gazed down at the pair of them, Ginny and Harry, laying side by side, both unconscious. He had felt himself flash into a ghostly, almost completely noncorporeal form when he cast the Stunning Spell – the wand had nearly fallen right through his hand. And what a wand it was! He'd put so much force into the spell because he had expected to meet the same resistance that Ginny's wand had given him. But there had been no resistance whatsoever – the magic had poured out of him as freely as it had with his own wand, fifty years ago.

His form was coming back now, as solid as before he used the Stunning Spell, but he knew that it would never fully corporealize at this point. If he had waited until he was fully solid, he would have been a full human being, able to recover his own magical core just by resting for a few moments. As it was, he had set himself back far enough that Ginny would not have enough power to in her body to make him a complete person.

He looked speculatively at the boy. Should he draw energy from him, then, to complete the regenerative process? It would be a sad thing to do, to snuff out such a fierce personality and mute the booming orchestra of magic it contained. Not only that, but the boy was the very picture of Tom himself, identical to how Tom had looked at twelve, from the fierce green eyes to every angle of his face – the only difference Tom could see was that the boy was terribly skinny, as if he'd been malnourished for years. The food at the orphanage had been disgusting, but Tom had always made sure that he'd had his fair share and had never gone hungry. This boy looked like he'd been starved – and yet, even still, his magical reservoir was like a raging torrent, more powerful than Tom had seen in anyone but himself at that age, which was remarkable considering the boy's stunted growth. The boy's promise, together with the fact that Tom was fairly certain he was related to him, made him very adverse to killing him.

So, instead, as Ginny was starting to turn as transparent as Tom had been moments ago, Tom looked up to Slytherin's great simian head, idly thankful that there was no strong family resemblance there, and hissed in the ancestral tongue, "Speak to me, O Slytherin."

Salazar's great maw split open. Like a giant stone nutcracker, the lower jaw fell down as if on a hinge, leaving a gaping maw that lead into the Inner Chamber. The basilisk slithered out and Tom met his eyes without fear. It was not only because a Horcruxian phantom like Tom not be killed by an assault on his body that he allowed himself to gaze into the Snake King's eyes – another family heirloom from Salazar made him immune to the gaze, even when corporeal.

"Come, beast of my ancestor," Tom cooed. The great snake slithered down the leg of the statue and up to Tom, obeying the power of a parseltongue command, until it was so close that Tom's hair was ruffled with every one of the old snake's panting breaths. The snake was ancient – by Tom's measure, it had been over eighty feet back in the 1940s, even though basilisks usually died of old age by sixty feet. Creatures that never stopped growing counted time in feet rather than years. This basilisk was not only the longest one ever recorded, but also the oldest. Basilisks were a creation of wizards, and had no natural ranges, but they did best in the hot deserts of America, Australia and Africa. This dark, wet catacomb was a far cry from the deserts that basilisks enjoyed, so it was remarkable that the creature had even reached forty feet. It was a very old specimen, and very fragile. Tom believed that if it ever bit into a person, its teeth would fall out, so he had always fed it chickens, rabbits and other creatures small enough to be eaten in one bite. A healthy basilisk in the wild would be more likely to pray on things like trolls, young dragons and horses.

This creature was near its end. Tom had no compunction with absorbing its life-force – it would soon be of no use in any case. So, as Ginny became increasingly difficult to see, and Tom began having difficulty extracting the last remnants of her life-force, he changed targets rather than struggling.

"Arripavenefic!"

Two green cords latched onto the great snake's eyes, connecting it to the palms of Tom's hands, and he felt a surge of power so great that he could scarcely prevent it from overwhelming him. The basilisk screamed, but it was bound to never attack or disobey its master, and could do little more than writhe in pain. Then it stopped struggling, and began to fade away as well.

Tom glanced back down. Ginny was nowhere to be seen, her essence dissolved. Actually, that wasn't true – her soul was still very much alive, trapped now in the diary. Soon she would be sharing her prison with the company of a basilisk. At least she wouldn't be alone, Tom thought, grinning. Oh, he could feel the power surging into him, now. The basilisk had proved a much more fruitful crop than the girl, and Tom was very soon a whole person, complete in his humanity but utterly inhuman. He laughed. I'm back.

"Ennervate."

Harry awoke with a jolt, his eyes snapping open so quickly that he saw the flash of blue from the Counter-Stun as the energy washed over him. He sat bolt upright, looking around frantically. Tom was there, standing over him, smiling in a way that could only be described as brotherly, twirling Harry's wand around in his fingers.

"What the hell are you doing!" Harry shouted. And then he saw, quite suddenly, laying behind Tom was what appeared to be the phantom of an enormous snake, only slightly visible. Tom, on the other hand, was fully there. And Ginny -- "Where is she?"

"She's gone, now."

Gone. That could only mean one thing. "You killed her," Harry said.

"Oh, no. She's still alive – bodiless, less than a real person, but a fully in-tact soul. She's there," said Tom, pointing to the old diary on the floor. Next to it lay Ginny's wand, which Harry seized. He jumped to his feet and pointed the wand at Tom. This wand, though – Harry looked at it with a grimace – it was nothing like his own wand, which Tom continued to twirl about absently. "Ginny Weasley is now a purely spiritual sort of creature," he grinned.

"You've --" Harry struggled to understand the situation. He glanced at the diary again. "You've replaced her. You stole her body and put her in there."

"Very clever, Harry," said Tom, flashing a friendly smile. "But it wasn't all me, you know. She's been pouring herself into my diary all year. Every word she wrote, every little bit of her eleven-year-old worries she shared with me, gave me power. She's been doing very poorly in her classes, you know – as you'd expect from someone who's only got half her magic at her disposal, the other half trapped in a book. She's been giving me her powers all year – I just took the final step, took the remainder. Of course, a weakling like Ginny Weasley didn't have enough magic in her body to make a powerful wizard like myself complete. That's why this snake is as you see it."

Harry was at a loss for words. He gaped at Tom, not really understanding. He'd never heard of anyone stealing someone else's magic except in jokes. It was sometimes said by pure-bloods that Muggle-borns had stolen their magic, but no one in their right mind believed that. This was something altogether different, and terribly real. Harry's best friend's sister was now nothing more than a memory, trapped in a diary, far, far less than a person – less in some ways than even ghosts, who at least had false, phantom bodies with which to move around and express themselves. For Ginny, it was worse by far than death. And this Tom Riddle had done it to her to escape the same fate. Harry didn't know what to say – what could you possibly say? So he settled for "How?"

"You see, cousin, I go by more than one name. I was known in a past life as the Dark Lord Voldemort. But I don't know much about that except for what this girl has told me. Voldemort, when he was sixteen, split his soul into fragments in order to insure his immortality. I am the second such fragment he made – and I very much doubt I am the last. I am an exact replica of what Voldemort – born to the name Tom Marvolo Riddle – was when he was sixteen.

"I am a Horcrux, cousin. I am the product of some of the darkest magic that has ever been known. I am Voldemort's anchor to this world, preventing his death. Many people have said that you are the only person to have ever survived a Killing Curse – but you and I know that that is not true. My other half survived as well when you reflected it at him, thanks to me and my fellow Horcruxes. I believe you've met him."

"Voldemort?" Harry said, nonplussed. Then, his face suddenly twisting into a ferocious grimace, he said, "Oh, yes, we've met. You're nothing but a ghost, living in the back of other people's heads. You're just a pathetic piece of history, remembered as the second, less successful Dark Lord of the twentieth century."

Tom's face ripped from his friendly smile to an expression of terrible hatred. "No, cousin. I am not that man. I have a body now. Do not confuse him and me – you can be sure that I will never make the mistakes that he has made. I am his opposite half – but that is not all. I am his better half. He cut out the wrong part of his soul; he trapped the best of himself in a diary."

Harry stared long into Tom's eyes, wondering how to destroy him. His thoughts leaped to the diary – if he destroyed the diary, would Tom be killed?

As though he were reading Harry's thoughts, Tom said, "No, Harry. I am no longer bound to the diary. If you destroy it, you will only destroy what remains of Ginny Weasley. I'm complete, as I've told you. The only way you can kill me now is the old fashion way."

That was enough encouragement for Harry. "Expelliarmus!" he shouted, swinging Ginny's wand wildly. A jet of pink bubbles flew out of the tip of his wand, and that was it. Tom was not disarmed.

"Your wand, Harry, is very unique. As was mine. I went through dozens of wands to find one that was compatible with me. As did you, yes? You won't be able to fight me with that stick, not when I'm holding this beautiful wand. Give up.

"I don't think you'll want to fight me, anyway, cousin. Not when you hear what I have to offer. This basilisk behind me has given me all that I can take from it – I'm simply overflowing with magic at this point, Harry, and I can't take any more without risk of reservoir leaks. You can have the rest, my dear cousin. I imagine I'll see you very soon – yes, very soon. Enjoy this gift... Arripavenefic!"

Tom waved Harry's wand again, and suddenly two thick green cables appeared, connecting the massive snake's eyes with Harry's palms. Something was surging through him – it felt like he had dropped a toaster in the tub. His body convulsed wildly, and he collapsed.

When he awoke, he was alone. Tom and the basilisk were gone. The diary and Ginny's wand lay on the slimy stone floor, a short distance away. Harry tried to sit up, but groaned with pain and collapsed in the attempt. He lay there, defeated, for a very long time, watching how the torchlight and the small pools of water cast a strange, flickering and worbling light on the walls. He turned his head, and gazed at the statue of Salazar Slytherin, whose monkey-like mouth was agape in a mockery of a grin.

Ginny was dead – or something very much like dead. Tom Riddle, the Heir of Slytherin, Voldemort's younger double (what had he called himself? A Horcrux?), had escaped.

For a length of time impossible to measure, Harry lay there. The pain slowly subsided, and he managed to get to his knees, and then to his feet. He spotted his own wand, and gripped it tightly, then pocketed Ginny's wand and the diary. He slowly made his way out of the Chamber of Secrets, aware of Slytherin's statue, still grinning at his departing back. The diary, the vessel of Ginny's soul, felt oddly heavy in his hand.

He climbed through a hole in the cave-in debris, and found Ron and Lockhart laying there, unconscious. He awoke them withby shaking their shoulders and, not hearing any of their questions, began the slow climb up the slippery chute that led to the girl's bathroom on the third floor. Ron climbed up behind him, his sobs echoing in the chute. Ginny Weasley – he hadn't known her well, but she seemed like she would be a part of his life, a feature at Hogwarts. He was used to her. He felt strange about her absence – and he felt terribly guilty for not being able to rescue her.

But he thought little of that at the moment. His mind was occupied otherwise – Voldemort called me his cousin, he thought with disgust, unable to deny the obvious truth behind it. I am a Slytherin – how can I not be, as a parselmouth?

And then his thoughts drifted in a different direction. Voldemort was back in a body. It would not be long now before the attacks started again, a new reign of terror began.... What is a Horcrux? How is this possible?

Harry saw a light ahead, and it was not much longer until he was pulling himself out of the slippery chute. Ron came up not long behind him. His face was ghastly pale, his eyes wide and red. He had no words. Even Lockhart, apparently sensing the sobriety of the moment, had nothing to say as they pulled him, too, out of the chute.

Myrtle spoke quietly. "Dumbledore wants to see you. He's in McGonagall's office."

They all slowly, painfully, trudged out of the bathroom and down the corridor. Portraits watched them silently as they passed by. They all knew what had happened by Ginny's absence and the group's faces.

They entered Professor McGonagall's office silently. Ron's parents were there, and so were Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall. Ron's mum was rocking in a chair, sobbing uncontrollably. His dad was staring at them blankly, evidently shocked. No one could bring themselves to ask the question they were all wondering, so Harry told them without waiting for the question. "She didn't make it," he said quietly.

Mrs. Weasley howled. Ron went and embraced her, his face as blankly shocked as his dad's. Mrs. Weasley called Ginny's name, and screeched over and over, "No! No! I don't believe you!" for twenty minutes or so. Ron and Mr. Weasley had gotten over their shock and joined her in sobbing before long. Harry sat quietly in a chair, staring at the diary in his lap. Her soul was in there.

"Professor," he said after half an hour or so, addressing Dumbledore. "May I speak with you privately?"

Dumbledore led Harry out of the office and into a classroom, then waved his wand around for a moment. He indicated that Harry should speak.

"Ginny's not all gone," Harry said quietly. "Tom Riddle – Voldemort – had part of his soul in this diary. A Horcrux, he said. He stole Ginny's life-force and locked her soul in here. She's in this diary, Sir."

Dumbledore, stricken, was silent for a while. Then he said, "There's no way to bring her back, Harry."

"Tom brought himself back. Can't we find someone for Ginny to --?"

Dumbledore took on a strange and disquieting expression. "No, Harry, we can't. Because Ginny was not willingly placed in that diary, I believe that she cannot willingly escape it."

Harry and Dumbledore were both silent for a long time. Then Dumbledore asked Harry for the diary, and he handed it over. "Harry, have you told your friend Ron that Ginny is in here?" Harry shook his head, and Dumbledore sighed and said, "For the best. I need you to tell no one, Harry. I'm going to destroy the diary and let Ginny move on."

"No!" Harry screamed, his voice breaking. "Sir – there's got to be a way...."

"No. There is none. I am very sorry, Harry."

Harry thought to himself about everything else he had planned to speak to Dumbledore about. The basilisk's magic that was now in him and Tom both – Harry's worries that he really was a descendant of Slytherin --

But he held his silence. What if Dumbledore wanted to destroy him, next?

"I understand, Sir," Harry said, very quietly. Dumbledore got up and left him in the classroom alone.

Harry sat in the corner of the classroom for a very long time, until eventually Professor McGonagall poked her head in the door and called his name.

"I'm here, Professor," he said quietly.

"Good, then," she said, stepping fully into the room and smiling reassuringly at him. "We'd thought for a moment we'd lost you again.... Come out of that hole, Mr. Potter."

He pushed himself off the ground and followed her out into the hall. "The Weasleys are still in my office," she said, nodding in that direction. "Of course, you may very well head down to the feast instead."

Harry shook his head and entered the office. What she'd said wasn't exactly accurate: only Mr. Weasley was left, and he was just about to follow the rest of his family through the green-flamed fireplace when he saw Harry. When he did, he stepped away from the hearth and up to Harry and clasped him on the shoulder.

"You did what you could, Harry," he said. He was leaning down to speak to Harry eye-to-eye, and Harry could see how those eyes were bloodshot and dim. "You put your life on the line. No one could ask you for more. Thank you."

Something hard and painful was nesting in Harry's throat and he couldn't speak at all. For lack of words, he reached into his pocket instead, and pulled out Ginny's short little oak wand; he handed it to Mr. Weasley, and then he fled the room as quickly as he could.

"Harry, it wasn't your fault," Hermione said for the umpteenth time as the train was chugging along through a mountain pass somewhere in Scotland. "You did everything you could do!"

"Don't, Hermione," he said shortly. "I'm sick of it."

"But, Harry, you were up against You-Know-Who, alone. How could you have possibly won out?"

Harry sent her a sharp look. "He wasn't Voldemort. He was a pimply, idiotic teenager. I should have been able to..."

"No, Harry. He was still a much older student than you, and he caught you off guard. There was just no way you could have beaten him."

Harry fell into a dark silence that lasted the rest of the ride. Even if he accepted what Hermione said – even if he allowed himself to believe that he had lost to Tom before he had even gone down into the Chamber of Secrets.... Even accepting that, which he didn't, wouldn't alleviate his guilt.

What clutched at his gut the worst wasn't his defeat by Riddle. It was how he'd handed the diary, Ginny's soul contained within, over to Dumbledore to be destroyed.... Riddle might have taken away her body, but it was Harry who, in the end, killed her.

With that on his mind, how could he bare to hear people tell him he'd tried his best to save her?

The train ride passed in black silence.

Hello! This is my first fic, so please give me feedback on it. Hope you enjoy it.

Nordfjord