She gazed through the window of Hogwarts Express, observing the countryside flashing by. She shared the compartment with her brothers George, Fred and Ron, as well as Harry and Hermione. Tension hung above them as a heavy cloud, being the consequence of her actions from the previous day, and it led to stilted conversations. He didn't bother to defend himself overly much, no matter how annoying people's nagging got. Percy was the worst and after he blabbed their mother he won't know peace for quite some time.
But it had to be done. Acknowledging the Life Debt was the most efficient and beneficial action he could take. In one fell swoop it gained him so many perks; it cleared him of any suspicion regarding the opening of the Chamber, gained him fame for owing Harry Potter a Debt, highlighted his deference to the Old ways and wizarding traditions as well as his pureblood pride, made interaction and friendship with Harry a necessity, and soothed the magic within himself. He came a long way in the last few days, but the duality of his magic and personality was getting harmfull. It wasn't really the Life Debt he owed Harry, tainted as it was with murder of his parents and targeting him as a baby. But with the careful application of the Old ways he changed that. All their history, or rather Tom Riddle's future, he gathered together, and with Ginny's rescue he was able to change it into a Debt owed. It would scrub himher raw of all the blame and responsibility, leaving him a relatively clean slate. It came with a price, but it was a price worth paying.
She didn't want such burden on her conscience. She didn't want to be a murderer who attacked children, she didn't want to be her childhood's boogeyman, shehe didn't want to be Voldemort.
Voldemort failed, was killed by a child, leaving behind a dark and hated legacy. He wasn't revered, hailed as a god among men, he was instead a blight in wizarding history, a failure too feared to be even spoken of.
She read all about his future self in the library, and it left a bitter taste in her mouth.
He will not be that! He will only be the best!
The Burrow was as she remembered it, with a doting and slightly overbearing mother, permissive father and a whole gaggle of brothers always underfoot. The house was comfortable and homey, bursting at the seams but every room holding happy memories and familiar scents and sounds. It was so cozy, as if from a fantasy he sometimes, when feeling particularly naively wistful, entertained as a child.
As days progressed, it happened more and more often. The sudden feeling of misplacement, of being a stranger, an outsider in a house not his own. She would flinch when it happened, when hearing an unexpected sound, being confronted with unfamiliar sight. The nightmares were the worst, dual memories interwoven together, forming something grotesque. They trapped him in his body and he often awoke unable to move, unable to scream. It always took a while for her memories to settle enough for himher to remember who shehe was. Every day, she saw the concerned faces of her family, helpless and unable to fix her.
He buried himself in books at first, as a distraction, going through the first year material, then the second with books borrowed from Ron. It diminished his parents' concern not at all. He knew books won't be of any help. Information needed to give him the answer wasn't in any tome at the Burrow. A ritual might help, but he was out of useful ideas. A Cleansing and a Debt were only good for soothing the symptoms of his condition, his fluctuating magic and a taint on his soul. The Duality in his soul was a harder dragon egg to crack.
More and more he riffled through his memory, but nothing useful came to mind. In the end he figured he would have to invent a ritual suiting his needs. That brought along several problems. Rituals were prone to spectacular failures when done incorrectly and were not known for subtlety. They were usually loud or emotionally charged or colourful, and one could ordinarily feel the magic gathered and released. She wasn't used to hide and lie to her parents, and she would probably be caught anyway.
"Mum?" She instigated quietly. "Mum, I want to celebrate Summer Solstice."
"Ginny, what on earth? A solstice?" Exclaimed Molly, turning away from the cooking cauldron.
"Yes, like the stories you told me about. About the gatherings your family participated in? The Holy Days?"
"Why would you…? We never did anything like that, what gave you such an idea?! Ginny, you worry me."
Her mum gently took hold of her hands and steered her towards the table, motioning her to sit.
"I don't know what to do anymore, Ginny! We, your father and I, we asked the healers, but even they don't know what to do. They said you should be fine. You are not fine!" She sobbed.
"Mum, mum! That's why I want to do the Solstice celebration! It's the longest day of the year, full of light and sun and happiness. Haven't you always said that? I think I need that, mum. Can you help me? Please?" She pleaded.
"The Old ways, they are different, sweety. They are wilder. It's not at all what you are used to. Not like casting spells with your wand. It can be pretty frightening. We don't want to make it worse…" Molly took ahold of her hand again, warming her cold fingers between her larger palms.
"I want to try, mum. I… I was under control of somebody else. I need to take that control back. I won't make it on my own, I need some help. But not… not other people. I want to do it myself. You see?" He tried to explain.
He was possessed by the Horcrux, and the Horcrux was trapped in a diary by numerous spells and bindings to serve its purpose. Not a free existence, either of them. And heshe valued freedom above all else.
"This is more complicated than that, sweetheart. The Holy rituals… you don't just do them. You have to prepare. And it's already the 23st, the solstice is over." Said her mum.
"Doesn't it take a week? We have three more days. Mum, please!"
Molly sighed, suddenly appearing so tired and old, and Ginny remembered that she wasn't a young woman anymore.
"All right, Ginny, all right. Let… let me think about it. Maybe I remember something useful."
She couldn't help it, she stood and jumped into her mother's embrace, overcome with gratitude. She couldn't remember the last time he embraced anyone, it felt like he never did. It woke something possessive inside him and he held on even tighter.
Her family was baffled, she could tell. They never performed rituals, never really practised the old ways, and only ever saw them performed at Prewett family gatherings. Her mother soothed their confusion, and they spent that day and the next in preparation for the ritual.
Molly gathered the herbs, some growing in their garden, some in a forest close by. She also gathered oak wood, for power, magic and grounding. Meanwhile, he took a stroll around their house and the surrounding countryside, searching for a perfect place. He got some suggestions from his mother, about how to pick a place and how it must look like. But he wasn't interested in nice meadows or warm ponds. No. He searched for a creek, somewhere the water will run fast enough to serve as cleansing, but shallow enough he wouldn't drown in it.
He found it. Judging by its bank it used to be deeper, but summer dried it out enough to be comfortable to lie in.
His mother told the rest of the family what was going to occur, and by the look of it not all were comfortable with it. His father refused to participate, citing his lack of experience in old magic might have a negative effect. Percy seemed equally uncomfortable, but agreed to join if his presence will help. Fred and George, on the other hand, were enthusiastic. They always did love magic in all its forms. Ron didn't really seem to have an opinion one way or the other and that made Molly recommend he stay with their father. Rituals generally didn't favour indecisiveness.
There was another thing on hisher mind, their name. Because they were one, but they were two a well. Except, not really. Because heshe had two sets of memories, but one mind to recall them. It was the memories that coloured the mind, that changed the person thinking them. Even if heshe was one person, memories had two different names for herhim.
And names have power.
Heshe thought long and hard about it, about a name worthy of him. She loved the name her parents gave her, and the surname of her line. He hated his name, on the other hand, muggle and mundane as it was. He was at the same time proud of his ancestry, the all powerful Slytherin line, proud and magical.
Ginny Molly Weasley
Tom Marvolo Riddle
If shehe could pick a name, any name, what would it be? He did it once before, when he became Lord Voldemort, but it was a name based on fear, made of fear, to inspire fear. And she didn't want for her family to fear her. She loved them.
What name would it be?
Ginevra, for her family, a variant for Guinevere, meaning white shadow, white wave. A good, strong name. A name for a queen.
Tory, a unisex name, with the first two letters of Tom, shortened from victory, and a nod to a political party his followers most vehemently advocated.
Weasley, for her pureblood line.
And Slytherin, for power over his former -future- self. Voldemort never did manage to own the name. Heshewill.
It was night when a group of five made their way to the creek. Barefoot, lighting their way with torches, they were dressed in simple white robes, made the day before from old linens. On the site, everything was prepared. They made two small bonfires, one on each side of the creek, using oak branches and herbs, then surrounded them with flowers. On top of each, the future Ginevra put a scroll, carefully bound with her hair. She prepared it in private, under the light of the moon. In one, he wrote the name Tom Marvolo Riddle, crossed it over, then wrote his new name above it. In the other, she gave away her name Ginny Molly Weasley, in the same fashion. At sunrise, they will burn, and heshe will be reborn on a new day.
The dawn was almost upon them, so she made her way into the water. It was cold around her ankles, but the budding magic already started affecting her. She will be fine. Determined, he lowered himself into the water untoil he was lying under the waking sky.
At herhis nod, his mother started.
"On this night we gathered, in love for our daughter and sister, to heal, to mend what was broken. To chase away the sorrow, to chase away the nightmares, to disperse the shadows in her mind and soul. Great sun, giver of life, aid us on our noble quest!"
She flung her hands wide, and her brothers followed, facing east, where the first sun rays peaked over the hilltop.
"Twins, two who are one, light the fires, give us light!"
Her brothers went to lit the bonfires with their torches. They moved in sync, as only twins could, and the wood caught fire at the same time. Orange flames lept towards the sky, devouring the herbs, and soon the parchment. Shehe felt warm now, then hot, and soon it was hard to think as the smoke made its way into herhis lungs. All that heshe was, was taken away by water running over herhis body. All was erased, nothing existed, nothing mattered. Only a name remained, anchored by the fire and the rising sun.
Ginevra Tory Weasley Slytherin, shehe whispered, as if uttering a secret. The fires lept, immensely bright. She saw people around herhim, looking at herhim, opening their mouths as if speaking. She didn't hear a thing over the roaring in his ears.
Ginevra Tory Weasley Slytherin
.
.
.
When she came to, it was to a feeling of a hand in hers, anchoring her. It pulled her up, out of the water, and she heard a voice.
"Wake up, sister, into a new day."
She opened her eyes. It was Percy, her brother, older and smart and a sticker to the rules. He grabbed her under her knees and hoisted her up, out of the water. She saw the rest of her family there, her mother cooking and cleaning and care and warmth, and her brothers Fred and George with mischief and pranks and protectiveness and life.
"Who am I?" She asked, needing the confirmation, the closure.
"You are Ginevra Weasley," they answered, all at once. And it was true, this is what she was to them. For them. Her new family.
"So mote it be." She affirmed.
"So mote it be!" They echoed back, smiling.