Disclaimer: No, I do not own Harry Potter. No, I am not making any money off of this story and I do not mean to hurt the business of Bloomsbury, Scholastic, Rowling, or anyone else involved in these lovely books. I'm just another innocent fan, don't hurt me. This doesn't contain any spoilers for book 5, so you can read freely.
Inkubus:
Chapter 4: The Way of Memories
Tom was trying to suck her in. But she wouldn't allow it. She wouldn't be tricked, not again. She would destroy the Diary, and the memory. She would finish what she had started, all those almost five years ago. He was right, nothing was starting for her; she was ending his dominance over her life. She was gaining independence.
The light emanating from the diary got stronger, and drew her eyes over. All it took was one glance, and she felt herself falling again. It didn't matter, she wouldn't let it matter; for all her petty mistakes, she still would destroy him this time. It wouldn't make any difference if he won this battle; she was still fighting the war. No, she had not yet begun to fight the war. And soon she would make sure it was much harder for him to exert any control over her. She would destroy him; she would obliterate his memory; she would make up for her mistakes.
But for now, she was falling. Falling through time and space and consciousness in a way that was all too familiar, even though the last time she had experienced it was in her first year at Hogwarts. She fell out of the present and into the memory-world that the diary represented, the memory world that Tom was from, the world of ideas and concepts and not of physicality or action.
It made sense that she didn't exist here. It made sense that the most she could do was see – not even touch anyone there. She had tried, once. Tried to grab onto her 'beloved' Tom's hand in her first year, tried to grasp on so she wouldn't get lost in this murky world of the past, but her hand had slipped right through him, like that of a ghost, without him even noticing so much as if she had been a ghost. It was a puzzle she sometimes would ponder late at night when a fit of insomnia would stir her: had she been the intangible one, or had he? Had she fallen into a world of spirits, or in falling did she become a mere transient spirit herself?
Down, down she went, continuing her journey. She fell for a long time this time, longer than usual, deeper into the memory of the young dark lord. A scene materialized before her, a cold dark room with row upon row of sterilized white beds. She hit the floor with a faint thump, and reeled from the journey. She had never seen his childhood before – as this so clearly was. She had only heard of it from others: he grew up in an orphanage, she knew. The smell of coarse soap lay on this room like a cloud, Ginny could barely breathe. She looked down the row of starched white beds, trying to find the reason of her arrival. Tom always brought her here to show her something. Where, therefore, was the something she had to see? Nothing was there to show that it was inhabited by row upon row of small children, except there, on one of the beds far down the hallway, sat a slight, little boy with messy dark hair. She almost mistook him for Harry.
Steeling her nerves, she walked towards him. He was whispering, so soft that she couldn't hear anything except a dull hiss. She stepped closer, tentatively, forgetting for the moment that he couldn't see her and worrying that he would be startled and stop saying whatever it was he was saying. She took another step, and then, she realized it wasn't anything but a dull hiss. There, in his hand, was a little green garter snake. She sat on the edge of a nearby bed and just looked at him, wondering exactly how this seemingly innocent little boy could become the Tom she knew.
Two bigger boys came in, big boys like Crabbe and Goyle in the year above her. They both wore identical clothing: coarse-knit gray trousers, thin, slightly too small shirts, and identical smirks, as if they owned the world of the starched linen sheets and powerful disinfectant, and as if this was as mighty a kingdom as any man could desire. "Talking to the snake again, Thomas?" jeered one.
Tom said nothing, or at least, nothing in English. He continued to hiss quietly to the snake. Slowly, it curled around his wrist, resting only its head in his hand now. The other boy spoke up. "Stop your pretending, we all know you can't talk to snakes."
Tom looked up, fixed the two boys with a pair of the largest blue eyes Ginny had ever seen. Someone could drown in those eyes, she thought, and then quickly reprimanded herself. She was going to have to kill his boy, erase all of his memories from existence. She would kill even this one, this sweet little child who looked hardly evil. He was already Slytherin's heir, already a parselmouth. "Can too," he snapped back, brow furrowing in frustration and anger. Already vindictive, Ginny thought.
One boy grabbed the snake from Tom, and in a panic Tom hissed something. The garter snake writhed in the boy's hand, finally finding a way to release itself from the cruel grip, and then slithered up the boy's arm, to his shoulder and bit him, in the neck. The snake should have just bit the boy's hand. Tom must have directed it.
Already, this Tom was cruel, adept at the arts of pain. The poor, bitten boy screamed, threw the snake away, and ran down the hallway, leaving Tom his pet. The other boy followed.
The memory faded, and Ginny floated upwards as Tom carefully picked his way across the floor, to reclaim his snake. She floated back into recognition and reality, away from the dusky memory. Already, those big blue eyes were receding from her thoughts and she was able to concentrate more on the relevant issue: that even this small, innocent child was a cruel, vindictive sadist, a dark wizard just waiting to happen. And although some might qualify it, say that his childhood accounts for his bad behavior, she had a counter argument to that. This memory of Tom Riddle's could be defeated easily, with pure logic. Then she was back in her seat. What was that supposed to teach her? She picked up her quill, and dipped it in the ink. One sentence was all it took. "Harry had a miserable childhood too, you know." She slammed shut the Diary, and locked it in a drawer. She was going to destroy him.
. .
Harry had a miserable childhood too, you know. The words blazed across Tom's consciousness, made brighter for the emotion and honesty behind them. He had forgotten how honestly Ginny felt things. Energy from her, hopes and dreams and even thoughts, was doubly potent for its honest emotion and raw sentiment. Tom stumbled, and fell, even as he felt the energy surging through him. Catching himself, he quickly Apparated to the Zabini mansion. He was weak. He glanced down at his hand, saw it flicker like a candle about to go out. Well, this certainly changed things. Apparently, Blaise Zabini was indeed forgetting.
This made Ginny Weasley worthy of consideration. After all, it wouldn't do to burn all his bridges until he knew he didn't, in fact, need to use them. Her honest energy and sentiment was like vodka to Blaise's weak alcohol of shallow feeling. He could make quick work of the lack of energy if he could tap into that raw emotion. But to find out if he did or did not need to use the Weasley girl, if he could or could not use the Weasley, he would need to find Blaise.
Which meant another trip to the Parkinson Chateau.
He had no need for sleep; after all he wasn't alive yet. So he Apparated directly, now that he knew for certain where the castle was located, he didn't need to bother his hosts.
The goblin once again answered his knock, but this time he simply swept past the creature without so much as a nod of his head. Such things as servants knew to respect authority, especially when it was forced upon them. He marched up the staircase he had seen Pansy take, and into the first room he found.
He was lucky, he had guessed upon Pansy's wing of the house and her room while she was otherwise occupied. However, when he saw the broken mirror, his hopes failed.
This would be of no use to him. He could not get Blaise out of the mirror with the crack in the way, and a Reparo charm would return the mirror to its original state: an ordinary mirror, Blaise's spirit erased. Those spells were all useless now, cut in half by the hairline fissure in the middle of the mirror. Blaise stared at him from below, mournful. "It's broken, isn't it, master?" she whispered.
"Yes," he answered, trying to stay calm.
"Am I to die now?" Blaise asked. It was clear now: the foolish girl was terrified. "Without seeing the glory of what is to come?"
"You are to die," he responded. "But there will be no glory. Your friend Pansy Parkinson has ended our hopes for glory." The cracked glass served as an impermeable barrier through which he could neither gain energy nor give energy.
Which meant that the game was up. He was stuck in this in-between state forever.
Blaise nodded. A tear ran down her face. "You will exact revenge?"
"Of course."
"Please, Tom…" she began, haltingly. "Please, if you can… be merciful. She didn't mean anything but the best, and she's a loyal Death Eater…"
"Quiet," he demanded, and the noise stopped. "I will do what I see fit."
Revenge was all that was left to him. It was only a matter of time now before he ran out of energy; he couldn't go on living off of people forever. He would exact his revenge on Parkinson, for ruining his plan. He waited, sitting in an armchair and idly twiddling the mirror, for the girl to awake. When she finally did, she shrieked.
"What are you doing here?" she shouted, belligerent.
"Retrieving something I believe you stole," he answered, holding up the mirror.
"Give that back. Blaise gave it to me."
"I don't remember that in the will. Perhaps you could show me the documentation?" She was silent. "Well then. It's mine. But I'm in a benevolent mood today. You can have it." He threw the mirror, as hard as he could, against the wall to the right of her head. It split into a thousand pieces with a resounding crash.
Pansy gasped. "What did you do that for? You've killed her!"
"No, you killed her, when you put the first crack in the mirror. And now I'm going to kill you, for daring to interfere in matters that would not concern you, even if you could understand them." He pulled out Blaise's wand. But just then, when he was ready to kill the insolent girl, he wavered still more. His grip on the wand faltered and he step back, nearly dropping his weapon. The shards of glass on the floor were, to his eyes, glowing. Blaise was dead. He nearly felt her essence slip into nothing, leaving a faint sheen of energy on the floor by the mirror. He looked to his hand. It was still fainter, still more transparent than before. He shook his head, trying to gain concentration before the girl was able to force him out of the room.
Except, it had already happened. She called down to the goblin, and he hurried up, leaving Tom with no choice but to Apparate away. He was weak, weaker than he had been since Ginny Weasley left the Chamber alive. Which left only one explanation that he could think of. Blaise had forgotten. Just before she died, she had reclaimed herself, renouncing everything that she had done as a result of him in an attempt to bring him down with her. Perhaps she had even contrived to cast a memory charm on herself. This could be remedied. He only hoped that Ginny wasn't also forgetting.
. .
Harry had been worried when Ginny told him about Tom's return, after all, the return of a memory of the teenaged Dark Lord can hardly be a good thing. However, the more he thought about it, the better things seemed. Obviously, she had told him before she got too deep into whatever his current plot was, or she wouldn't have been able to tell him at all. After all, she had tried to tell them in her first year and Tom – someone—had stopped her, or at least delayed her long enough for Percy to stop her. But this time, she had told him, without too much stumbling.
All of which was a very good sign. A very good sign. They might be able to solve this problem before any damage occurred. Well, other than the death of Blaise Zabini, but she was a Slytherin so it hardly counted.
And as always, a good night's sleep always sorted his thoughts out. That morning he awoke, ready to take on the dark Lord.
The flash of light two stories below hadn't troubled anyone's sleep except Ginny's.
. .
Ginny felt strangely lighthearted that night, and fell asleep easier than she had in months. It all boiled down to Harry – as long as he was on her side, nothing could go wrong. After all, Harry had defeated You-Know-Who countless times before, and Tom was weak. She could feel his grip on her reality weakening. She smiled in her sleep. She was having such a pleasant dream, flying up to the stars on her brother's broom. Higher and higher and higher still, the air was cooler up here, the wind stronger. The breeze caught against her face, whipped her hair around. The beauty of the night sky surrounded her.
She turned around, looking down towards the Burrow. Someone was there, looking up at her room. She felt her stomach lurch, and suddenly her dream wasn't as friendly. The breeze turned into a wind that pressed against her face and mouth so hard she could barely breathe, and the broomstick seemed weak protection against the fall. She flew down.
And then, just as suddenly, she realized she could stop this if she just woke up…
Ginny's eyes flew open. She was back in her room, safe. Just to be sure, she hurried to her window. She could never double check enough times, after all, and even though she knew it was only a dream, her heart was hammering in her chest and she wanted to make sure—
There he was, standing out there, as if waiting for her. She would have to confront him one more time, she decided, this time she would forget him for good. She hesitated, thinking of bringing the Diary with her, but left it on her desk and turned back to the door. She carefully descended the flights of stairs, thinking of Harry and how proud he would be to find that she had beaten Tom on her own. She picked her way across the yard, thinking of her family sleeping – safe and sound because their daughter was brave and could handle herself…
She descended the stairs quickly, wrapped again in her old Hogwarts robe. She crossed the living room towards the door, but something stopped her. "Ginny," someone called, not from outside but rather from the sofa. She turned to see Harry sitting comfortably, watching the still glowing embers as they slowly went out. "Does going out to talk to him help?"
She blinked. "You know he's here?" she whispered.
"Of course. I could see him too." Of course he could see him. It's not like Tom was invisible yet.
"I have to talk to him," she said, calmly, not letting her feelings betray her. No, a voice was calling out in her head, talking to Tom doesn't help; just stay here with Harry. Talk to him instead. Tell him everything. For once you have a trustworthy, open, welcoming confidante and you're turning him down— it was time to interrupt her train of thought with abrupt action. "I have to tell him one last thing. To level the score." Harry nodded. Ginny silently opened the door and stepped outside.
A few more steps into the garden were all it took before he was behind her.
"You keep coming…" Tom whispered. Something was different this time. No matter.
"This is the last time. I'm over you." She smiled at herself.
"And yet you keep coming back…"
"I might have been stupid in my first year, but I am no longer." She turned around, heading back to the Burrow, and then paused.
She had expected him to stop her, or at least try. But she hadn't imagined him to be as ubiquitous as a ghost – as he passed through her to face her, she felt a shiver go up her spine. She was caught face to face with him and she faltered. Those eyes – fitting of the keeper of a Basilisk, they could calm you to not fear your oncoming death. They could freeze you in place. They did. As Ginny faltered, Tom became more solid. "You were never over me," Tom whispered.
Those blue eyes – you could drown in those eyes. Ginny wasn't altogether sure what happened next. But when she pushed Tom away from her, breaking off the kiss, she knew he was completely solid. She saw a light on in the Burrow – the fire place, and a head of tousled black hair facing it. Harry had lit the fire. Shaking, mumbling, she ran back to the Burrow. She didn't even notice that when she pushed Tom away, he had fallen to the ground, too weak now to stand.
She didn't run inside, but calmly walked and shut the door. It wouldn't be much guard against an ephemeral Tom, but that didn't matter. She sat beside Harry in front of the fire. "I thought I could handle this, but I can't," she said. "I need to talk to someone."
There wasn't even the moment of silence she had expected. "I'm all ears," Harry responded.
"I thought that by convincing myself what happened in my first year was all my fault – that by doing that, I could forget about him. But I suppose that because that's a lie, or at least somewhat a lie, it won't work. I think I need to somehow just come to terms with it, and if I do that I'll be all right. He'll disappear." She paused for a second before continuing. "Because, in truth, he did try to take over, and do horrible things, through me, but what counts is that it wasn't me, no matter how much I try to say it was. It was just my fault for the stupidity to think that anyone would want to listen to me, I guess."
Harry nodded silently, and then spoke. "Well, I talked to him, I would never have guessed that he was Lord Voldemort. Not for the life of me. I even saw him in the Chamber before I realized what was going on."
Ginny laughed. "You did?"
A smile cracked across Harry's face, as he recounted the story. "Yeah. I was all about rescuing him and you: 'Come on, Tom! We've got to get out of here! This is the Chamber of Secrets, and some crazy person is setting a Basilisk loose on the students!' or some such thing. He must have thought us both rather daft." Harry laughed.
Ginny joined him, giggling at the thought of the proceedings. "I guess we were both rather foolish. But there were no lasting side effects – and we were just kids."
"Yeah," Harry agreed. "Just kids."
A blurring hand reached around to grab Ginny. She saw it and gasped, turning around to see a desperate Tom fading rapidly into oblivion. Ginny stared him down, shocked, as he melted away into nothingness, and then turned back to Harry. They were silent for a few minutes.
"Well," said Ginny.
"Well," agreed Harry. "That was rather… anticlimactic. If you ask me."
Ginny laughed again. "I suppose you could say it was."
Harry pulled something out from the pocket of his robe – the Diary. "I should probably ask before I throw this into the fire…" he said.
Ginny smiled faintly, and then held out her hand. "Let me, please." Harry obliged, giving her the leather-bound book. Turning to face it, she addressed one last remark to its cover: "I can't believe you've caused me so much trouble." And then she tossed it into the flame.
It burned, just like any ordinary book. And after all, how was it anything more?
Ginny smiled, settling back into the sofa. "We should probably go back to bed," she mumbled. Relief was washing over her – it was over, and she had made up for her stupidity in her first year. The adrenaline of facing Tom one last time was quickly wearing off and she felt herself drifting slowly to sleep. She could probably just make it upstairs, if she tried as hard as she could…
"Probably…" mumbled Harry in return. "But it's so warm here."
Ginny nodded. "I'm sure no one would mind…"
The next morning, the two were found before the now faintly glowing embers of the fire, side by side.
A/N: Wow. I finally finished a fanfic. I know it wasn't long or epic or anything – but I liked it and I hope you did too. The wait for this last chapter was much shorter than for the previous ones, just because I had already written it. Thanks to cashew and Mackie for their reviews – and for putting the story on their favorites list. I'm so glad you both liked it! Thanks to theMuse and kilohana and Venus DeOmnipotent for their earlier reviews – missed you on this last chapter, but it's been a while since I updated. Anyway, hope you liked it, and drop me a review to tell me!
