A/N: Wow, it's amazing, isn't it, how predictable this was… oh-he-became-Voldie-because-she-left turn of the plot… oh well. Thanks for the reviews! Yeah, I'm updating really fast, because I want to get it finished before I go to military camp (I'm hardcore :P) for a week. Which means… I have to post like four or five chapters by… tomorrow, 12 o'clock GMT. :O
I NEED MORE TITLE SUGGESTIONS! Look Back : I like it. Chasing History: I like it. GIMME MORE!!
I found this new song by OneRepublic called Mercy. It's great!
Disclaimer: Get the idea into your head. I don't own it. Now move on.
The Letter P
Chapter Sixty-Eight: P is for Past The Pain
"LEAVE ME ALONE!" she screamed, tears streaming like a waterfall down her face. Shadows were everywhere. It was Voldemort and the evil Tom and Ron and Harry and Grace and Alden, trying to grab her. "GO AWAY!"
Then the light faded from her eyes and she passed out in a heap on the ground, grateful for peace.
xxx
Blearily, past the pain, Ginny opened her eyes.
Her head was swimming. She was curled up on the floor, in front of the door to the Slytherin common room. Tears and sweat were dried on her icy-cold face. She sat up slowly, trying to get away with as little dizziness as possible.
Feeling dizzy anyway, she got to her feet, using the door behind her as support. She felt like one of those tragedies who could go into shock at any moment. Glancing over, she saw painful-looking scratch marks on the wood of the door. Ouch.
One thing's for sure, she told herself. I'm not staying another night here.
She knew that she needed to talk to Tom… even though it was probably a stupid, stupid idea. Stupid, stupid. She was stupid. This whole place was stupid. Everything was stupid. She felt like kicking something, and she did, and felt even stupider when she hurt her foot.
Morning was rising, just as gloomy and desolate as every other time of the day now, under… his rule. She headed upstairs, still in the clothes that she'd worn yesterday, and slept in. She couldn't be bothered to change.
Ginny didn't go to the Great Hall. She wasn't hungry. She went outside and looked at the spot on the grounds where she had appeared. The grass there was slightly charred, as if someone had lit a fire there. Except that instead of ashes, all that was left behind was a miserable red-haired girl who was determined to break every rule in the book by attempting a conversation with the leader of the Wizarding world.
It was a ridiculous notion, Ginny knew it, but it was worth a try. So far no-one else had tried going up to Lord Voldemort and saying, "I love you, sorry I ditched you for forty-eight years", so maybe that was why they'd lost the War.
Even to her, the plan was dubious, and she didn't even know what she was going to say. And that was looking past the fact that she'd probably never get anywhere near him. The Death Eaters would strike her dead before she got within a mile of the Dark Lord. Plus the fact that Dumbledore would have a fit and chain her up if he knew.
Well, she thought defiantly, what he doesn't know won't hurt him.
A groan tore from inside her.
Oh, what am I thinking? This is insane.
With a heavy sigh, she turned and decided to have breakfast despite her lack of appetite. Perhaps she could plan better once she had a pancake or two inside her.
xxx
A week had passed, and still Ginny had no solid plot for what she intended to do. Yeah, she had the basics – waltz up to her ex-boyfriend, say hi, explain that she wasn't dead, and then ask him nicely not to take over the world. Sort of.
Dumbledore was keeping a close watch on her, because, of course, it was a dangerous thing, sitting alone in the library on one of the dusty desks, and she needed to be baby-sat.
She'd felt a pang of sadness when she'd realised that one of the five surviving students – two Hufflepuffs, two Slytherins, and a Ravenclaw – had died. Another had disappeared, and the two Hufflepuffs had left for a safer place, probably pretending to be Muggles in Timbuktu or somewhere distant and dreamy. Now the sorrow was fading, and she was left to her own – and, right now, somewhat more important – thoughts.
How on Earth was she supposed to get close enough to the wonderful "Lord and Master of the Universe"?
Then an idea struck her.
Voldemort's name was tabooed.
If she dissed him, using his real name, then, sooner rather than later, he'd come to kill her. And then… but no. He'd just send a Death Eater to do it for him. However… if she said something that would hurt him, really hit home, then maybe he'd come to see what person was rude and blasphemous. And he'd make sure that this person who knew far too much about him – dangerous amounts about him – died. So he'd come along.
"Hey, did you know that Voldemort's real name is Tom Riddle?" she said loudly, as if she was talking to someone.
There was a silence. No-one popped out of the air to slaughter her. She didn't really expect anything to.
"And his middle name is really weird, too," she added. "Marvolo. Tom Marvolo Riddle. I mean, honestly. No wonder he changed his name to Voldemort." She wondered if that was enough. "Only a stupid filthy pureblood would give their child a name like Marvolo. Don't you agree?" she continued the pretence that she was talking to someone.
She was going to continue her rant, but then the door to the Slytherin common room exploded open, and a furious-looking Albus Dumbledore stormed in.
"What do you think you're doing?" he snapped, livid.
Whoa. Calm down.
"I wasn't doing anything," Ginny said innocently, blinking wide eyes.
"You know exactly what you were doing, Miss Weasley, and it's unacceptable!" Dumbledore raged. "Have I wasted six years of my life trying to protect you for no reason? Have my efforts been for naught?"
"Probably."
"Don't you get cheeky now. Do you realise what you've done? He'll kill all of us for your insolence! You've not just doomed yourself for a private slaughter, you've ruined us all!"
"All? There's only, what, four of us?"
Ginny was actually worried for a moment that Dumbledore would slap her. That would be far scarier than the prospect of chatting with Lord Voldemort.
"Miss Weasley, you knew exactly what you were doing. Do you want him to come here?"
She tilted her chin defensively. "And what if I do?" She was sassing a teacher and she shouldn't, but she couldn't help herself from retorting cheekily.
"If you do, then you are truly a selfish child, endangering us all to get your way! That's a despicable thing to do and I hope for all of our sakes that what you just told me isn't true."
"It is true."
Dumbledore swelled again with anger. "I forbid you from following through with whatever this silly little plot of yours is! You're going to get us all killed! From now on, you will be sleeping in the Ravenclaw common room, near my office, and you will not be allowed without myself as your personal escort! You are a fool, Miss Weasley-"
"PEREGRINE!" she yelled at him.
He looked rather taken-aback.
"Peregrine," she repeated, curtly. "My name is Peregrine. I've had nothing but misery under the name of Weasley, and I'd sooner ditch it in favour of a life where I wasn't always shadowed by siblings, or by the famous Harry Potter – in favour of the name from a place where people liked me for who I was, and not what my blood was, or who my friends were."
"Miss Peregrine, then," Dumbledore snapped. He was never usually this angry with anyone, but Ginny supposed that if she had just doomed them all, then she probably deserved it. "Get your things. You're going to the Ravenclaw common room."
She wasn't sad to say goodbye to the Slytherin area. It wasn't her home now; dusty and dark, it only made memories painful.
xxx
Another week passed, fairly uneventfully. The Ravenclaw, the only other student remaining in the school, was a burly boy of about fifteen. He ignored Ginny to most extents and explored the castle glumly most of the time, leaving her to sit alone in the common room. She read books mostly, but nothing could entertain her. In reality, she was just waiting for Voldemort to show up.
Though consciously she believed firmly that he would arrive, deep within herself she knew that he'd probably never get close enough to her for her to try and persuade him.
She also didn't think that she had the courage to persuade him. It was easy enough to spill secrets to and admit to loving a handsome, sweet seventeen-year-old young man. Admitting to loving a snake-like, blurred madman was somewhat more frightening.
The nightmares had plagued her without stopping. She tried not to scream. While she was asleep, in her dreams, when faced with horrible things, she simply sat down, curled up, closed her eyes and clapped her hands firmly over her ears. Then she would usually wake up a few moments later, in exactly that position, either on her blankets, or more commonly on the floor.
Ginny turned to the mirror. She hadn't looked at her reflection in great detail since the Christmas Ball, that peaceful time where she thought that, unconsciously, was when she'd fallen in love with Tom. Now she looked over herself.
Her hair was untidy and flyaway around her face; a face that looked thin and unhealthy, having returned to the War-torn Hogwarts. Her eyes were wide and sad. She wore her usual attire – brightly-coloured jeans and a bulky jumper. However, it didn't feel as comfortable as she remembered it feeling. Before she realised what she was doing, she had thrown it all off and wriggled into a knee-length floral dress with a pink belt. And instantly, looking back in the mirror, her face lit up. The fifties' style. It was almost possible to convince herself that Grace was behind her, reading a book and chattering about something meaningless.
She headed down for breakfast. Her appetite hadn't returned, and no matter how much she ate, she still felt empty, but she hated the idea of being starved thin, and ate despite her emptiness.
No pancakes today, she observed. She was getting some toast and spreading butter on it when there was a resounding bang, loud so as to hurt her ears. It shook the walls, and alarmed her into dropping her toast.
Dumbledore stood. His eyes were narrowed. "Mr. Higson. Escort Miss Weasley to the Ravenclaw common room."
"But I'm eating," Ginny protested. What was going on?
"You'll have time to eat later," Dumbledore said sharply. The redhead was shocked to see fear in his twinkling blue eyes. "Mr. Higson! To the Ravenclaw common room. Now."
The sulky fifth-year got to his feet. He grabbed Ginny's wrist and dragged her forcibly towards the door.
"Let go of me!" Ginny squealed.
He refused silently.
Then she understood what was happening.
He was here.
She sighed. "Fine," she muttered, following Higson closely so that he felt no need for concern. Their footsteps rang as one as they moved quickly up the stairs- "Ow!"
Ginny cried out and bent low, wrenching her arm out of Higson's grip.. "My foot," she gasped. "My foot..."
Higson stopped. "What's wrong?" he asked irritably.
"Just… my foot…" she gasped again. "It hurts so much…" Then she straightened up, and at the same time she was hurling her fist upwards as fast as she could, her heart-shaped face screwed up in determination.
WHACK.
With a yelp, Higson stumbled backwards and fell, clutching his face. Blood streamed through his fingers and stained his cheeks. Accusing eyes swimming with tears looked up at Ginny.
"Sorry," she muttered. "Had to be done."
Without further ado, she spun on her heel and sprinted back down the damaged marble stairs. Her blood was pounding in her veins like the repeated strike of a bass-drum – du-dum du-dum du-dum. She ran across the vast Entrance Hall, being frightened by ridiculous but intimidating images of Dumbledore coming from the Great Hall, seeing her bid for freedom and blocking her way.
He wouldn't dare tackle me to the ground, she hoped fervently, glancing sideways. She'd never feared the Headmaster before, but that was because she'd never had reason to fear him before.
Then she was through the doors and safe. Or at least safer.
Dark clouds were gathering in the sky, blocking out the sun and creating a terrifying swirl of darkness and cold. It was still easy to see, though; Ginny prayed that it wouldn't rain, destroying what vision she had.
As if led by instinct or just something supernatural made by a deeper connection with the Dark Lord than anyone else had ever had, Ginny hurtled across the grounds, threading between trees, her ankles getting splashed with puddles of dew, icy morning grass snagging at her feet. Somehow she knew where to go.
Past the Lake… past the rubble that had once been Hagrid's hut… down the twisting path… as, against her wishes, rain began to fall, the path became slick and she fell down twice. She grated her hands, but ignored the blood trickling from her palms; she leapt up and continued to run. She could be seen by Dumbledore and taken back at any minute. And this was the only chance she had.
Only when she was a few bare metres from the Forbidden Forest, where she somehow knew that he would be, did she actually consider that maybe Professor Dumbledore was right – that maybe this was an insane thing to do.
She slowed her pace, close to stopping. Then she did stop, and stared forth into the pitch blackness of the Forest. She could see very little. Rain was bucketing down now, slicking her fringe into her eyes. She was reminded cruelly of running out into the rain on New Year's Eve in 1958 to find Tom. She bit her lip This was a very stupid thing to do, she realised. The safest, most sensible thing to do would be to turn around and go home.
Yet, for reasons unknown, she reached with bloody, grazed hands for her wand and held it before her. "Lumos" was whispered and she continued, more slowly now, with care.
The trees whispered. The rain roared. Her footsteps squelched. And she was walking ever closer to meet the twisted face of her dream – and her nightmare.
The wand-light coming from the tip of the stick of oak that she held was wavering. She realised that it was because her hands were shaking, and tried to still her shudders.
There was a low hiss.
Ginny jumped, and sideways saw a fat, angry-looking green snake. Nagini. She was close. She drained of colour as she watched the serpent slide away through the undergrowth. She followed its path uncertainly.
This was a stupid idea, a very stupid idea. What am I doing? Oh no, oh no…
Another hissing.
"What's that?" a high, cold voice. Yet, now that she listened intently to the voice – just the voice, not the words – she could pick apart the ligaments of it. A formal edge, a cold twist… an accent that she couldn't place.
Her heart thudded.
"Hm. According to Nagini, there is someone heading our way. Purposefully."
Her heart stopped.
A sweat was coming over her hands, making the open wounds sting. She held her wand tighter, but lowered it. It wouldn't do to be chatting to him with a defensive hold on her wand, pointing it at his face. No. That wouldn't do at all.
"Yes?" He was speaking to her now, in a soft and malicious tone. "I know that you're there. Is there any sanity towards approaching us?"
Her knees were locked. She couldn't move.
"Reveal yourself." His words rang with power, but there was curiosity lacing his voice. He couldn't hide his mild interest at what lunatic would deliberately set out to find them.
Ginny swallowed. Then, summoning all of the courage she had in her, she stepped forwards, into a small, vaguely triangular clearing where Lord Voldemort and a group of his Death Eaters stood. They could see her now. He could see her now. She lifted her face so that he could determine who she was, and pushed a strand of dark scarlet hair from her eyes.
For one chilling moment, nothing happened. The Death Eaters sneered, grumbled and laughed. Dread filled Ginny as she wondered if he recognised her at all.
Then she looked straight at him for the first time.
She wasn't sure what, in her stare, made him realise that she was really who he thought she was. But he flinched back. He closed his slit-like eyes. He took a deep breath. He opened his eyes again, and they were less ruby somehow, less snake-like. And he stared at her, pain evident in his eyes.
And he whispered, "Ginevra?"
xxx
A/N: DUN DUN DUNN! Omg. Whooooaaa. Review, and I'll update! XD HEHEHEE. Such a cliffie. Anyway… I lurvv you… angel of mercy, how did you find, how did you pick up off the floor… Lalala… review!
Next Time:
"Why – how - how are you standing there – like – as though – as thought it's been a day, or a week – not – instead of – years-" His voice cracked. He stepped closer. "Years and years…"
Then he inhaled sharply.
"Time-travel."
Still not looking at him, she nodded.
XXX
A: Doctor, doctor, no-one seems to like me.
B: … Get lost.