Final Riddles

Beta'ed by Daughter of the Black. – she owns my socks.

A little shorter than normal, but maybe a little juicier too? Or not. At any rate, that's a lot faster of an update. I mean, an update within – a month? I meant to get this out a couple days ago, but school reared its hideous head. Hell yes, it's interim time.

Thanks for all the people who reviewed. I definitely didn't get to RR most people. Because I am a bum. I'm sorry. c_C; Let's try this again?

Hope you enjoy! And definitely let me know what you think, and if you think it's too slow-moving or moving too quickly.

Your secrets my food

Your eyes my door

Your mind my home

My hunger your core

Chapter Six: Occlumency

"Legilimens!"

.

Shaking hands broke the seal of the envelope and removed an enclosed vial. A note accompanied it: Miss Weasley, it has come to my attention that you are gravely ill and should return home. Standing, she tossed both the envelope and the note into the fire and downed the potion before vanishing the vial. Not long after she stumbled into her bed, her lungs seized together and she began to cough violently…

.

Somewhere glass shattered. She was pushed down below the table where she was sitting and screams erupted overhead. Crawling to peer through the gap between the floor and the edge of the tablecloth, she removed her wand and whispered hexes at the intruders until she felt a breeze and the point of a wand digging into her neck. "My, aren't we feisty?" Spinning around, she knocked the wand away and stupefied the man…

.

By the light of wand she fingered the Gryffindor emblem on her Hogwarts robes before tossing the clothing aside and stringing her bag shut. The time for Hogwarts was over. She shouldered her sack and into her hands a tin jar, which soon activated and pulled her out of the room…

.

Her heart was still. Her footing had slipped and the Death Eaters had heard her. And she couldn't fathom how she had made such a stupid, careless, mistake in a time like this. They were advancing on her hiding place, she knew they were. She could feel their footsteps approaching, each thud heavier than the one before. But then she heard a familiar voice – her mum – scream out hexes, distracting them – letting her escape – and then there was one "Avada Kedavra" and the fighting fell silent –

.

"NO!" Ginny thrashed and snapped her eyes open, finding herself on the floor panting. Her eyes melding shut with hot tears, Ginny lay motionless. "No, no, no…" It was so vivid, more so than her recurring nightmares…

Dumbledore stood somber faced before quietly making his way to his desk and pulling out a bar of chocolate. "Eat," he said, holding out the sweet.

Trembling, Ginny accepted the chocolate, though it helped only a little. She could still see it all – the day the Order decided to pull her out of Hogwarts to home-school and prepare her for battle – the days they spent scouting and scavenging – the days they were caught – the days they lost lives…

"Clear your mind," Dumbledore said soothingly. "Concentrate on something calming. Relax."

Ginny nodded numbly and tried to focus. She had faced dementors before, and the idea here was much the same. She could do it. "Let me try again."

Dumbledore, however, was uncertain. "You need more time to recover."

"No." Ginny shook her head, fighting to keep her breath even to appear readier than she really was. "Once more," she pleaded.

He nodded, though the corners of his lips were still slightly tugged downward as he raised his wand. "Legilimens!"

.

Moody held her foot, rolling it from the ball down, then guided her across the room. She had just been taken out of Hogwarts and was now receiving intensive Auror training alongside the younger of her brothers, learning how to steal across the room when avoiding magic use. "No," barked Moody as she attempted to imitate the scurry he had demonstrated. "Lower your center of balance and don't lean so damn forward – "

.

The room was brightly illuminated, a map spread before her on the table as Bill moved clay figures around with his wand, plotting the next desperate plan of attack. Suddenly, the door burst open, and George came in eyes wide and lined with dark shadows. His face was whiter than anything Ginny had ever seen. Limply, his hand dropped to his side, before he collapsed to the floor. As she hurried, with the rest of her family, to kneel beside her brother, her mum ran past and peered outside into the hallway. "George, where's Fred? George – "

.

The bright lights were gone and the air was damp and moldering. Her hair was heavy with grime, but she couldn't feel it. In fact, she couldn't feel much of anything, and she hated that. And she hated how the only emotion she could feel was hatred toward her own apathy, because hate was such a poisonous power to have. Not even the sound of approaching footsteps could distract her from herself, nor the sounds of hands hidden in darkness rattling the door to her cage. Only when a pale face loomed over her did Ginny suddenly sit up, desperate to turn this maddening hatred onto someone else. Staring spitefully into her face, Ginny wished the woman dead, and in a burst of uncontrolled magic the woman crumpled, lifeless…

.

Tears sparked in Ginny's eyes as she gasped for breath, throwing off Dumbledore's legilimency. As she opened her eyes, she found she was no longer standing, but was facing the floor. Numbly, she rolled over, squeezing her eyes shut again.

That last memory – she hadn't meant to kill Daphne Greengrass. She remembered the witch from Hogwarts, to be a year ahead of her, and she was no spectacular evil – except that she was the messenger that brought Ginny to evil.

They would Crucio her first, she remembered, to weaken her mind and break her defiance. And, without lifting the spell, they'd Imperio her, so that when she was nearly unconscious with pain, they would have her murder someone she once knew, someone they no longer had use for.

She learned then that she wasn't as strong as she wished she was.

If anything, the murder she committed on her own – taking Greengrass's life – was the catalyst that slowly returned emotion to Ginny. She was reminded of horror and regret and determination – that she should never again hate so strongly as to lose control. That she should never again hate at all.

That didn't mean that guilt didn't gnaw at the fringes of her conscious. For weeks she could hear only Greengrass's voice when she awoke; she could see only Greengrass's face as she slept. During those endless days, it had been difficult not to hate herself.

Gradually Ginny's breathing evened, and she managed to push herself off the floor, squaring her shoulders.

"I think that's enough for today. You did well, this being your first time."

Opening her eyes, Ginny found that Dumbledore was watching her so strangely that she hesitated. All that she had seen, she knew he had as well – and he was, no doubt, curious as to what it all was. Steeling herself to allow his curiosity some satiation, Ginny recited his words back to him with a small smile. "Is there anything you'd like to ask me, Professor? Anything at all?"

Dumbledore's head tilted imperceptibly to the side, silent for a long moment. "How do you smile?"

There was a pause as the question lingered in the air. Slowly, Ginny looked up at the wizard, closing her eyes to recall the words he would tell her fifty years from now. "Someone once told me that the moment the opposition breaks who I am, is the moment I let them win." She exhaled, opening her eyes. "They think they've won. But they haven't, not yet." She had remembered those words that first night as an escapee, having run away after Daphne's death.

"You are a remarkable young woman," Dumbledore said.

"No, I'm not remarkable at all. I've been touched." She shook her head, rubbing her left forearm.

"We all are," Dumbledore acknowledged, "but it takes a true Gryffindor to keep trying, Miss Weasley, and a truer one to sort herself into Slytherin."

She looked up sharply, tears forming in her eyes. She hadn't been called Weasley in so long, and she missed it. "Sir?"

"I shall research a way to return you to your time when you are ready. Good evening, Miss Ginevra, and practice clearing your mind before you sleep tonight." His voice was gentle. "We will meet again next week."

Ginny smiled. "Thank you, Sir."

She was only halfway back to the Slytherin common room when her head started pounding, each thud reverberating. It had been a strenuous day, and she was exhausted, physically and mentally…

Pressing her hand to her forehead, Ginny staggered onwards. One step, then another. Dragging her feet along, she remembered that she'd forgotten to take her potions after dinner.

Ginny hadn't even finished walking down the corridor when her legs gave way beneath her and she slumped against the wall, her mind blank.

He stood, disguised by a Disillusionment Charm, outside the doors of the Hospital Wing. It was last night during his rounds when Tom Riddle happened upon an unconscious body, and this morning when he made it a point to awaken early and navigate his way to the Hospital Wing where he had dropped Ginevra off the night before.

He had blanched when he discovered the body to be the redheaded witch. She was powerful, he knew – the accounts of her Bat Bogey Hex, he had garnered from her classmates, held an awed undertone. He had witnessed, for himself, the force she exerted behind her curses and jinxes, thrown – almost carelessly – at those who disturbed her solitude. She spent the majority of her time alone, he noticed, lost in a world he thirsted to know.

That she had left herself so vulnerable, so open to attack last night left him slightly disgusted. It was a disgrace to have a Slytherin, let alone a Council member, unconscious in the middle of the corridor. And this was not the first time she had shown that she was physically weak. He had seen in the reflection of a window, as his back was turned to her, how she would sometimes touch her hand to her head or press her palm to her side as a grimace flickered over her face. Had it been anyone else, he would have exploited this Achilles' heel.

But Ginevra was different. She wouldn't respond well to his usual tactics, and he wanted more from her than he did the others.

Besides her potential, there were things Ginevra seemed to know about him and he couldn't fathom how she did. She could read him better than all the Council members combined could, and it alarmed him. What was worse was that he didn't even know exactly what Ginevra knew about him.

It was not so much in what she said, but rather her actions – the way her eyes would pierce him before pulling away just as he would being using legilimency to toy with the edges of her mind, the frown that would twitch at her lips as he tried to recover information from her, the way her brows would knit together ever so slightly as he let slip personal statements that no one should've been able to decipher. She seemed able to pull apart his honeyed lies and his secret truths.

In a way, Tom saw a bit of himself in her. Orphaned, powerful – and feeling always out of place. Then there was the way she would pull out her wand, a way he recognized distinctly as his own habit…

Instead of destroying her, Tom brought her to the Hospital Wing to be fixed.

The voices inside drifted over to him.

"How are you feeling?" He recognized the speaker to be Madame Frost.

"Mm… fine."

"Excellent. Now, Miss Ginevra, answer me honestly. How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," Ginevra insisted, somewhat indignantly. "Just – just a bit groggy is all."

"I need to know exactly how you feel in order to prescribe you potions if your current ones aren't working well."

"They're working fine, Madame Frost. I just forgot to take them last night after dinner."

"Forgot to take them? Forgot to take them? How could you forget? This is a serious matter, young lady. If –"

"I know, Madame Frost, I'm sorry. I just had a lot on my mind yesterday."

"A lot on your mind is no excuse! We are talking about your health. Potentially the difference between you living and you dying! You are in no condition to forget to take your potions!"

"I know, and I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

"You're right, it won't happen again, it better not. You're lucky that Mr. Riddle found you last night and brought you to me so I could fix you up before anything truly bad happened."

There was a long stretch of silence, and Tom tensed in anticipation. "Riddle?" Ginevra echoed weakly. "He brought me here?"

"Yes, and you should thank him if you see him. Who knows what would have happened if you hadn't been found until this morning? Forgot your potions, indeed." Madame Frost huffed. "And you know, on a different note, I've had several students in here sporting ills they claim you cast upon them, unprovoked."

There was a short, embarrassed silence, and she spoke so quietly afterwards that Tom had to strain his ears to catch what she said. "Err – yes, I did apologize to them. It was – was a reaction, really. They sort of… surprised me."

"Your instant reaction to surprise is hexing?" Madame Frost was incredulous. "Now, given your circumstances, Professor Dippet has allowed things to slide thus far, but you must make an effort to control your… reactions, or you will be punished for your infractions – possibly even removed from school."

"Of course," Ginevra paused before continuing somewhat more brightly, "I have been getting better at controlling them."

"See to it that you are."

The conversation inside the Hospital Wing died and Tom leaned back against the wall, not noticing the cold of the stone piercing through his robes and prickle at his skin as his eyes closed.

…Potentially the difference between you living and you dying…

…In no condition to forget to take your potions…

…Your instant reaction to surprise is hexing…

…Given your circumstances…

Then there was the way Ginevra had said his name. "Riddle," she had said. "Riddle," she had said, as if she were horrified. "Riddle," she had said, almost as if she were afraid.

It was dangerous, he knew, to keep Ginevra close. Common sense dictated that he should have her removed as far away from him as possible – away from his world, away from Hogwarts. But he was too curious to let her go, and he would rope her in closer yet.

One day, he would find out all of her secrets and devour them – and her.