The potion didn't work.
Ginny was in the Chamber of Secrets again and a tall, youthful figure was waiting for her. His back was to her, his hands clasped behind him as he studied his surroundings. Ginny whirled around, ready to run in any direction she could.
But she had tried that before.
She had tried every exit she might imagine. Nothing ever worked. She'd run for an escape only to find herself exactly where she started.
She wouldn't run this time. She wouldn't scream either.
Sixteen-year-old Tom Riddle turned casually to face her. His brown eyes seemed to glow red as he smirked at her. Tom Riddle had trapped a part of himself inside his diary years ago. Harry thought he had destroyed every trace of it, but it had been too late. As Ginny had lay dying all those years ago, Tom Riddle had attached himself to her soul, embedded a spark of himself so deeply that Ginny feared there might be only one way to destroy that last ember.
"Done running?" Tom asked. His voice was almost soft compared to Lord Voldemort's, but it no longer held the gentleness he'd feigned when she had written to him of her twelve-year old frivolities.
In some ways, she had been grateful for the experience. She had grown in ways she might never imagined. She'd thought she had finally tapped into her potential as a witch. Now, she realized, it wasn't her power she was tapping into.
Ginny didn't answer. She scanned her surroundings. Were there any options left? She had only one idea, but she'd need to be awake to try it. The normal means of waking oneself from a dream didn't work here or else she wouldn't have felt that wash of fear as Tom approached her.
She wouldn't scream this time.
Tom grabbed her hair and yanked it so that she was bent backward, then reached for her wand. Was it worth fighting him anymore?
Yes, she decided, as pressed the end of her wand into his cheek, delighting in the splash of red the pressure caused to ignite against his pale skin.
"Do you think your spells will work here, Ginny?" Tom asked her quietly, as she dug the wand deeper into his flesh. "This is my domain."
"Stupefy!" Ginny cried and Tom merely blinked at her.
"Petrificus Totalus!" Tom's hand pulled more roughly at her hair.
"Avada Kedavra!" This time, Tom grinned at her.
"The killing curse?" Tom asked her, eyes gleaming. "Ginny Weasley thinks she can murder the Dark Lord?" He yanked her hair again and Ginny winced, but tightened her grip on her wand as Tom reached for it. "You can't stop me, Ginny," Tom murmured.
Ginny clenched her fist and hit his cheekbone, grateful for years of practice with her brothers.
She didn't recall him hitting her, but she could feel the bruising ache against her cheek as she blinked her eyes open. She lay sprawled against the cold, damp ground in the Chamber of Secrets. Tom stood above her, holding her wand as if it were a toy. He moved toward her with a sick grin.
"I don't even need a wand to cast spells here," he informed her, pointing the wand at her. "It's just more fun this way. Crucio!"
Ginny clamped her mouth shut against the pain, biting her lip so that the blood spilled into her mouth.
"Crucio!"
Ginny's body writhed and jerked, knowing only pain. She wanted to scream. Perhaps it would help even a fraction—no! She clamped her lips more tightly together, blood caking beneath her fingernails as she gripped her palms.
"How long will you hold out tonight?" Tom murmured, moving closer. "Crucio!"