A/N: Yay! the lights are back on (thunderstorm)! Hurrah!

Well, since ff.net seems to be acting up again and I can't see any new reviews, I only got the ones sent to me with review alert: Rjk2005, Steph, A.Dee the Anglophile, Dark Angel, Gemm1, AlienSmile13, and argent. But thanks for any additional reviews - perhaps I'll get them one day. A side note to AlienSmile13: what do you mean by 'odd'? The chapter, the story in general...? It's a little late in the story for this, I know, but for future reference, a friendly reminder: if you're going criticize, do it constructively.

Anywho, here's chapter eleven! Angry!Harry + Angry!Ginny = Angry!...Harry and Ginny. Yeah, they get to fight in this chapter. By the end; and erie twist. Ooh....

Enjoy ;).

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Chapter Eleven
Back down Memory Lane

Ginny stood as steady as a statue, eyes rooted to the sight. He didn't look very well; if anything, he seemed ill. Unlike fifteen minutes ago. Becky stood at her side for a moment, looking awkwardly from her to Harry.

"I'll leave you two alone, I guess," she said quietly. True to her word, she turned and headed up the stairs to the dormitory. Ginny finally turned, staring after her. Suddenly, she felt alone...

...But why was she so nervous? I have nothing to hide.

Turning her eyes back on Harry, her anxious expression morphed into somewhat of a glare. Harry didn't really seem to notice, a grimace still present on his face. His eyes traveled from hers to the silver necklace around her neck and back. Silently, he used one of his feet to push out a chair for her, beckoning her to have a seat. Pursing her lips slightly, similarly to the way Professor McGonagall did, she strode over and sat down across from him. Her headache only seemed to get worse.

For almost a full minute, they sat in silence, waiting for the other to speak. Finally Harry, looking out the window at the darkening sky, went first.

"So what have you been doing all day?" He sounded unusually tired.

"Just...browsing around Hogsmeade," said Ginny with a shrug. "What about you? How's Cho?"

His glance suddenly engaged hers, as if catching on to the hint in Ginny's voice. "She was fine this morning," was his delayed response. "A bit disturbed, but nothing serious."

Ginny's eyes seemed to darken. "Really?" she said, a small trace of ridicule in the word. "Because I just passed you two in the hall not fifteen minutes ago, and she seemed...happy, I daresay. In fact, how did you get back so fast?"

Daresay? she thought briefly. I haven't said that one in ages.

Harry raised an eyebrow with perplexity. "First of all," he said, sitting up in his chair, "I've been here for at least an hour. Second of all, where'd you get that?"

It was her turn to look confused. "What?"

His eyes lowered to her neckline. "That."

Without thought, her hand took the locket between her fingers. "This, I bought," she said defiantly. "Besides, this isn't about me. You haven't been here for an hour. I just saw you in the hall, talking to Cho."

"I haven't talked to Cho since this morning. In fact, I've been in Hogsmeade, hoping I'd see you somewhere. I ran into Ron and Hermione at the Three Broomsticks and they told me you'd just left, so I came back here, and you weren't here, so I waited."

Ginny scoffed silently to herself. So these were the lies that her mother had warned her about so long ago.

"Look, you don't have to lie to me," she said quietly. "Becky's seen her around."

"And that's another thing," Harry continued, looking her square in the eye, "this girl you keep mentioning, Becky. She says this, she doesn't like that. You two are best friends, I've never seen you together. In fact, the only time I see you, you're alone. You say she pushed Daphne down the stairs, do you?"

Ginny, taken aback at his suddenly accusing tone of voice. For a few seconds, she just stared at him, but no sooner had she been shocked than she glared back at him.

"What are you trying to say?" she said edgily. "I pushed Daphne down the stairs? Becky's never around, so who else could it have been, right?"

"I didn't say that."

"Is that what you're implying?"

Fitfully, he sighed. "This isn't about you, remember?"

She began to chew her tongue, vaguely reminding Harry of his aunt. "You're right," she said finally, calming back down. "So what's up with you and Cho?"

"Nothing," said Harry, exasperated. "Please, I've been asked to relive the worst day of my life this morning, my best friends have been off somewhere else all damn day, and you've been avoiding me since practice. As you can imagine, it hasn't exactly been a great day for me."

Ginny sighed heavily. "You know what," she concluded wearily, "Nevermind. I don't even know why we're fighting about this... It's not like we were dating or anything." With that, she solemnly turned and went up to her common room, holding back tears. He looked at her one last time as she was walking away.

"It's not," he said gently to no one. Even he couldn't tell whether his phrase was a question or a statement.

When she got to the common room, it was empty. Even Becky wasn't there; faintly, she took notice of the sound of running water in the bathroom. She must've been in the shower.

Ginny took advantage of this time alone to crawl into her bed and bury her face into her pillow. This was the joy of being the only girl, and hence, having her own room to wallow in her own despair and go undisturbed for hours. She'd done this several times before, followed by a bought of weeping. A few tears had rolled down her cheeks, but otherwise, she didn't cry. She simply closed her eyes against the fabric, not thinking, not wanting to think. Her head hurt too much for either, for anything but to simply just be.

She wasn't sure how long she'd been laying there when the sound of the shower came to a sudden halt and was replaced by the sound of rustling clothes. She barely even acknowledged that Becky was nearby until she cleared her throat. Ginny turned her head against her pillow to see Becky, her hair wet and matted flat against her head. The warm smile she had on her face faded somewhat.

"What happened?"

Ginny took a deep breath and closed her eyes again, changing positions so that her back was to Becky. "I don't want to talk about it."

Becky frowned, sitting down on her bed across from Ginny's. "Oh, come on, Gin. You can talk to me about anything. You can trust me."

Ginny opened her mouth to respond, to tell her nothing short of, "I don't want to talk about it." But abruptly, it closed. Her eyes flew open.

Wait a minute…

What Becky had just said played through her read continuously. These words...she'd heard them before. Several times, if you count the way they stuck in her head. She remembered it so clearly...

Ginny sat on her dormitory floor, ripping up one of her many, failed "secret admirer" letters. She just couldn't find the right things to say. Even when she did, she just could bring herself to send it to him. Frustrated, she began to tear it into pieces.

At any rate, she ceased her work in progress long enough to hear the distant flapping inside her trunk. She stared at it in a startled fashion for about a minute. Eventually, out of curiosity, she cautiously scooted over to her trunk. Upon opening it, she found her new diary open to a random, blank page. Seeming to sense her presence, two simple words displayed themselves on the page.

'What's wrong?'

Ginny's eyes widened. With a sharp gasp, she scooted away from the trunk in surprise. Just as quickly as they'd appeared, they vanished. New ones came in.

'Are you there?'

Slowly, she stood, eyes not daring to budge from the trunk. "Who are you?" she whispered. Again, they words were replaced.

'I'm sorry. I can't hear too well. Maybe you could write it in the diary?'

She finally glanced at the quill and ink she'd abandoned on the floor by her small pile of still-intact parchment. She picked them up, dipped the quill into the ink, and hesitantly responded.

'Who are you?' she repeated. Like the last time she'd tried to write in it, the words disappeared as if they were sinking into the parchment. She'd deemed it useless after that, but kept it anyway for further investigation.

'I'm Tom,' he introduced. 'I kind of live in here.'

So that's why the words keep disappearing, she thought to herself. She wrote more.

'Oh, sorry. I didn't realize I was disturbing you.'

'Nonsense, Virginia. I rather enjoy company.'

Ginny's brow scrunched in suspicion. 'How do you know my name?'

'You've written it before,' he explained. 'Your name is Virginia B. Weasley, if I recall correctly. Anyway, I thought I heard you ripping up something or other not five minutes ago.'

'It was nothing, really.'

'It wasn't? The sound in here is horrible, but from what I heard, you sounded quite upset.'

Ginny bit her lip. She didn't know if she could trust him. Again, he seemed to read her mind.

'It's okay,' Tom reassured her. 'I won't tell anyone. I don't think I can: I'm basically confined to these pages. You can trust me.'

With a heavy sigh, she dipped her quill into the ink again and wrote back.

For a long moment, Ginny just lied still, as if petrified to the spot. Almost mechanically, she turned around to see Becky. Her pale skin, her black hair, he shadowy eyes. Why did she look so familiar all of a sudden?

Looking at her as if she were some kind of poisonous snake getting ready to strike, she cautiously rose from her bed. Becky looked at her innocently with a crooked eyebrow.

"What is it?"

It was all Ginny could do keep from hyperventilating, to not break into a sprint out the door.

Think, Ginny. Please think.

The two girls locked eyes for what seemed like forever. Scared bewildered eyes against solid black ones.

"Ginny?"

Ginny seemed to snap out of her trance, reminding herself to breathe. For a brief moment, she went back to seeing Becky as the sickly, sadistic girl she'd claimed to be. This couldn't possibly be who she thought it was, or be related to someone who she couldn't have known.

But she knew that, with the ways of the wizarding world, you couldn't believe everything you see.

Whatever the case, she felt shaken up. And when all else fails, lie.

Ginny caught her breath and gave a halfhearted smile.

"I'm sorry," she said almost incoherently. "It's just...been a really long day. Maybe I just need to go on a little walk. You know, to clear my head."

"You've been walking around all day," contradicted Becky in a bright voice. "Take a rest."

Ginny's eyebrow furrowed. Becky seemed awfully eager to have her around.

"I'll be right back," Ginny insisted, hand already on the doorknob.

Though it didn't seem like much, the disappointment was evident in her face. She was so close to getting free. All she needed was a little more.

"Alright," she sighed, picking up a book from her nightstand.

Rather shakily, Becky noticed, Ginny turned the knob and stepped out into the hall.

As the door closed shut behind her, Rebecca couldn't help but smile to herself. She knew Ginny was basically powerless, even if she did know what was going on. She could run away and try to hide, but this was just as fruitless as one trying to run away from a part of their body without removing it first. She could attack Becky, but the only one who could possibly die was Ginny - and under some circumstances, that could very well happen. True, it was still all very simple for Ginny to flush this parasite out of her system, but so far, she was clueless...well, pretty much.

Becky knew Ginny wouldn't be able to hold back too much longer. All she needed was a little more strength.

Why, at this rate, I could be out before dawn.

Eyes still wide and alert, she quickly made her way down the stairs, hurrying away from her dormitory. When she walked into the common room, she paused momentarily at the portrait and looked to her right. Harry had already left. Never minding it, she exited the tower, aimlessly heading down the corridor.

Her pace eventually slowed the farther down she went. The whole time, she was thinking about Becky.

Becky...is that even her real name?

Now that she thought about it, she wasn't so sure about Becky anymore. She had become increasingly darker in personality over the months. And then there was the lack of records, the people who couldn't or haven't seen her, the...the fact that she ate very little if at all.

But then again, they found her records. And Dumbledore recognized them! I heard them talking!

But then again, he didn't seem too happy when Madame Pomfrey found them. What was wrong? Or maybe none of this had happened - had she just imagined it all? Possibly, since they have a name for it...

That ridiculous! she thought dismissively. I'm plenty aware of what's real and what's fake... But I haven't always been...

But no, she decided, I couldn't be schizophrenic. Daphne was pushed down the stairs - Becky did that.

Did she? said another voice in her head. Schizophrenics tend to loose touch with real world --

Well, I haven't! she thought defiantly. I have no symptoms --

Are you sure? I mean, just look at the situation. You're pretty defensive of you friend, you deny the claims of everyone else that there's nothing there.

Stop it!

And by the way, you are having a conversation with yourself. There's a name for that, too.

Stop it, stop it --

"Stop it!" she whispered harshly into the drafty air, to no one in particular except for herself. She stopped in her tracks, becoming completely still. There was an odd pain in her hands. She looked down at them to discover that her hands, at some point in her brief bought of fury, had balled themselves into tight fists. Her nails were digging into her palm; she let her fingers unfurl themselves.

"Stop what?" said a familiar voice. Before, it had been a welcoming tone.

Now, it made Ginny's stomach knot.

A low chuckle was heard.

Straightening up, she looked around, suddenly curious about her surroundings. The corridor was completely void of anyone else except the two of them. She carefully avoided the area behind her.

Still, she cautiously turned around to face Rebecca. Her eyes were smiling, even when her mouth was not. Idly she crossed her arms behind her back. Several moments passed as Ginny stared at her, ready to take off.

"Are you okay, Gin?" she said innocently, the brightness in her tone evident.

Ginny found her breath again before answering. "Who are you?" she murmured, still as a statue.

Becky sighed. "It's getting late. Maybe you should rest for a little while--"

"Who are you?" she repeated, a bit more forcefully this time.

Becky raised an eyebrow at Ginny. "It's me, Ginny. Rebecca."

"What are you?" continued Ginny, backing away. "Where did you come from? Why are you here?"

"What are you talking about?" Becky responded, taking a step closer. "I'm from Ireland, remember --"

"Are you real?"

"Of course I'm real!"

"Why can't they see you? Are you a ghost? Am I the only one who sees you…? And your hair –" Ginny had just noticed. "Your hair was wet! How did it dry so fast?"

"Ginny, that's enough," said Becky, becoming a bit aggravated. "Harry's looking for you, anyway. Now c'mon."

"Answer me!"

Ginny was now openly glaring at Becky in suspicion; Becky was glaring back, her mood now in sharp contrast from her happy, innocent one.

"Very well," she said darkly.

And that was the last thing Ginny had heard, at least from Becky, before a familiar feeling flooded her head, her body. It was the same as when she had brought Daphne to the hospital wing. At first, for a fleeting moment, she was lightheaded, and then the pain. It seemed to start at the core of her brain and, within seconds, it had spread down to her toes. This time, she didn't faint, at least, not as quickly as she would've hoped. She was still awake to feel the dull pain in her knees as she dropped, her arms instinctively breaking her fall. Vaguely she felt the hot tears spilling forth, dripping from her cheeks to the marble ground at which she clutched in agony. Eventually, her arms gave and her body entirely collapsed to the floor.

The pain of Becky leaving her body for the last time seemed to go on forever before it faded away, just as quickly as it had begun, leaving Ginny weak. Her eyelids desperately heavy, she opened them one more time to see Becky peering down at her. Her expression was like pale stone, cold and unyielding.

And just before the girl before her passed out, she smiled.

She awoke sometime later. Her vision was blurry as her eyes flickered open, steadily becoming clearer. The room was pitch dark, save for the faint glow of the waning moon outside her window. She could tell she was in her dormitory, her bed. She tried to turn over and get a better look at her surroundings – to find she couldn't move. In slight panic, she let out a slight whimper and tried harder. She was only able to pick up her left arm before it plopped helplessly back to the bed.

"Need some help?" said a male voice. As he spoke, Ginny felt a pair of warm hands roll her over onto her back. Despite her frailty, she managed to jump in shock and horror, her eyes wide as saucers. He was a teenage boy, no older than sixteen, with jet-black hair, pale skin and dark, shadowy eyes. But there were no glasses, no scars.

She was suddenly staring up into the face of Tom Riddle.

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Dun dun dun...!! A turn of events? Does this spell doom for Ginny Weasley, or perhaps Harry Potter? O_O. Till next time, I'm Maddie Lupin. Thanks for reading. And say, if I were to update sometime after OotP, would you still read?