A/N: Thank you all so much for the love and interest shown this story. I am so excited to be writing this and can't wait to hear your reaction to this new chapter and its goodies. ~G
Legal: i just play in the sandbox and make no money from this story.
Chapter 2
Tom Riddle.
Tom Riddle.
'How was this… I need to think…"
Luna had been thankful Ginny didn't seem to realize with whom she blathered all her prepubescent moaning to, that the generic name didn't ring any bells.
"That sounds like one heck of a charm." Luna had said, clapping cheerfully. "How fun!"
Ginny had blushed.
"Well…actually, I'm not sure it is a charm Luna… that's why I want to keep it a secret. Why it needs to stay secret."
Luna had stilled. She hadn't anticipated Ginny actually confiding this to her.
'Tread lightly,' she'd thought before saying, "what do you mean Ginny? What else could it be?"
Ginny had shifted, warring unease and anticipation apparent in every minute movement. "It's like… it's like, the diary is sentient. He knows things, and the way he talks—week, writes… it's almost as if…"
"He's trapped in the pages?" Luna had asked, and Ginny had nodded.
"Exactly! Oh I knew you'd understand. I feel… I need to help him, Luna, as he's helping me."
Luna had regarded her friend, who'd been looking at her with beseeching eyes begging for understanding; ideas and questions slithering through her brain at nimbus speed.
"But Ginny, how can you possibly help someone trapped in a book?"
Ginny had frowned. "I'm not sure. It's just, just a feeling I have. The other day he said…" she had trailed off before shaking her head, her eyes shuttering slightly.
"It's ok, Ginny, you don't have to tell me," Luna had said, and had known before she'd even finished speaking that she'd hooked her friend with her disinterest.
Ginny had burst out, "he said the more I talk, the more I confide, the more human he feels. At first I thought, like you, it was a spell… but the more we write to each other, the more he's become this trapped, lost, boy not merely a shallow wisp of Magic. He mentioned he's not more than a few years older than me, and that if I ever free him…" she had blushed, "well, just, he remembers what it's like to be—" her voice had trailed off, "—amongst the living. It's so sad Luna."
'Oh you stupid, naive little twit.' Luna had thought.
Being a blood traitor was one thing.
She could tolerate that, especially in Ginny's case.
But to not have even a cursory knowledge of soul magics, blood rituals, even of the most benign aspect of the old practices before they became denounced and classified as either dark or light…
To not even have an inkling that the book before her was anything but sad or benign…
To Luna, that was the ultimate snub to their magical heritage.
To their fucking birthright.
Luna had felt the flames of frustration and disgust begin to lick across her spine. She'd straightened in her chair and decided upon her game plan, putting it into motion.
Queen's knight to d4.
She'd be playing to win, playing for keeps.
And Ginny would never have a fucking clue.
"What's it like? Talking, writing to him?" She'd asked, tilting her head and letting her eyes project a widened innocence.
She'd thought her tone neutral but Ginny had eyed her in suspicion.
"Why? Don't get any ideas! This diary is mine!"
"Of course it is, silly. Oops, I think there's some nargles flying around here." Luna has said sweetly, swatting around the air randomly. "I'm excited is all. Can't believe you have all the luck. Finding such an interesting treasure! I wonder how it just came to fall into your lap?"
'Compulsion charms, definitely, and some charm or spell to arouse suspicion and promote ownership.' Luna had mused as she'd watched Ginny's shoulders relax as she'd spoken. 'I'll need to be careful in my approach. At least at first…'
Ginny had gone on about how thankful she was that their conversations were private, explaining how the ink vanished into the page and that his reply lasted until she wrote a new line—unless she closed the book.
Then even that disappeared until she wrote again.
She'd gushed about his patience and how helpful he was with her frustrations of family dynamics, on her stress over schoolwork, and on her enduring—and frightfully annoying—crush on one Harry Potter; a second year Luna hadn't yet met but had seen here and there.
Of course, she'd grown up knowing the legend of the boy, though legends are usually more smoke than mirror in her experience.
He'd been in the bookstore the day she was sure the journal—diary?—had made its way into Ginny's possession.
She'd never before set eyes on the fabled boy-who-lived before that day, and Luna wasn't all that impressed with what she'd seen.
Anyone who allowed themselves to be branded with—and still apparently encourage—a stupid moniker such as that was deserving of scorn, not…
Not the hero worship Ginny heaped upon the image of him she'd erected in her head.
The two had finished their homework and retreated to their respective common rooms; Luna surreptitiously noticing the pocket in which the nondescript diary was slipped.
…—-o(0)o-—-…
If only her friend knew, that the boy she wrote to daily was so much more worthy of her awe and respect than she bestowed upon Potter.
Luna sank down now against the battlement, her chosen spot for hiding herself from prying eyes and the northern winds.
She hadn't yet learned the disillusionment charm, so this was the closest she could get to invisibility.
It was where she sought her daily solace, where she could exist with just her thoughts, without need of her exhausting mask of aloof obscurity.
Donning her mother's harvesting gloves, she delicately pulled thistle out of her sac to twine together while letting her mind drift to plot and ponder.
'How absolutely innocent Ginny looked when she'd crowed about her new secret quill-pal.' She thought, scoffing. 'How utterly besotted with the idea of having someone completely her own to talk to.'
A secret someone named Tom Riddle.
She didn't begrudge her friend her desire for an untraceable personal confidante, but was rather put out that Ginny alone had unfettered access to Tom Riddle's genius.
She knew she had to get her hands on it.
Somehow, someway.
She'd also have to ensure Ginny remained the sole owner of the diary, and Luna's usage one of a sporadic guest.
She knew that was vitally important, and something to be kept utterly secret.
Luna knew things others didn't.
She knew—her mother had always whispered to her—that the Dark Lord hadn't perished the night he'd gone to Godric's Hollow.
That knowledge was something softly spoken of between the two of them in the dead of night, under the twinkling stars as her mother tucked her into bed.
It was from her mother's lips to Luna's ears alone.
Her father was oblivious to the master her mother had served, blind to the spells Pandora dabbled with and created for a Lord missing in action but whispered to return.
No one outside of Voldemort himself knew of Pandora's involvement amongst his ranks, but all had been impacted in some fashion.
Her spells had wrecked havoc amongst those fighting against the Dark Lord—and even between themselves when someone stepped out of line—and to this day the origins of those creations remained a mystery.
From both sides.
How Pandora had become such a boon to his inner circle, had been allowed such close and anonymous proximity, Luna had never dared ask.
It was a secret Pandora had taken to the veil, and one Luna was determined to uncover.
She knew her mother's uncle had raised her after she was mysteriously orphaned, and was one of the Dark Lords trusted advisors for decades.
She knew there'd been an irrevocable rift between her mother and uncle before her own birth, months after the Dark Lord had fallen and around the time her mother had secretly married and taken the Lovegood surname.
Casting aside the protections of the Avery name and all it entailed.
And damning her unborn child with a father not her sire.
Another secret, Luna knew, which festered below her skin, itching to be lanced and purged.
"What are you doing up here Loony?" A taut, reedy voice trilled.
Sally Lithelo, a fourth year Ravenclaw.
One of Luna's most ardent antagonists.
Giggles followed.
'Ah, Joelle's here too. Perfect. Fucking blasted twats.' Luna thought, clenching her teeth as she slipped her 'Loony' affectation on as seamlessly as one did glasses or a pair of trainers.
"Just enjoying the view." Luna singsonged mildly, subtly shifting her wreath of weeds toward the opening of her bag. "There's usually a lack of chattering birds this high up."
Eyes narrow at her words.
"Ooooh, what do we have here?" Joelle Branche, Sally's best mate, asked with saccharine politeness.
Joelle's father worked for the ministry, some position close to Fudge, and she liked to flaunt her perceived power-by-proxy in the common room.
'Ministry wench.' Luna seethed behind a face of benign boredom. 'As if anyone in the ministry has a clue what real power is. They'd wet their pants to experience it.'
Joelle stepped up beside Sally, brandishing her wand.
"Accio Luna's…sticks," she said, and the wreath flew out of Luna's grip and into the girls outstretched hand.
"Ouch!" Joelle cried, dropping the circle of thistles and sticking her bleeding finger in her mouth.
"I would have handed it to you Joelle, the thistle is delicately tricky to touch," Luna said sweetly, swinging her sac up and onto her shoulder.
She peered owlishly at the two older eagles before her before saying lightly, "You may want to see Madam Pomfrey about your finger. The vermillion thistle is young and the milk hasn't had a chance to alkalize yet. You may begin to notice…"
Luna broke off as Joelle pulled her finger from her mouth and screamed.
"…that the wound will begin turning green and oozing sulfuric pus. It'll become permanent…without prompt treatment."
"Watch your back Loony," Sally spat, her Ravenclaw badge flashing in the late afternoon sun. "Come on Elle, lets head to the infirmary."
Luna watched the two depart, anger simmering along her flesh at losing yet another place of solace.
She couldn't wait to get her hands on that diary.
'Oh the things we'll do,' Luna thought as she headed back inside and down toward the greenhouses and the courtyard beyond.