Something funny happened today. There was a Boggart in the cloakroom downstairs, and somehow I already knew it was in there. I wasn't very worried about it either. I had the feeling I wrote about it before, but I looked back at the journal entries, and all that's in here is stuff about school and Quidditch games. I didn't remember going to Quidditch games, but--oh, yeah, Ron's a really good Keeper this year. Gryffindor won both matches. I think we'll get the Cup!
This will not do, Voldemort decided. It was time for a more direct approach. 'Listen to me, Harry Potter.'
'Will you tell me what's going on?' But it was a weak response. He didn't have much will left to fight, and it was so much easier to just relax, to not have to think about things.
'I'll take care of everything. You want power, don't you? You want people to fear you, to let you do anything you want.'
'No...'
'You can't lie to me. I'm in you. You need me. I could... always use Ginny instead.'
Harry's heart beat faster, making him light headed. No, he wouldn't abandon him... would he? Panic gripped him. He didn't want to be left alone.
'You would go back to how you were before I came to you: powerless, weak, failing your classes, Dumbledore making all your decisions for you. You like making your own decisions, don't you? You like power.'
'Yes. Please, don't go.' He tried not to sound too desperate but failed.
'Perhaps you need a reminder.'
Sorrow flooded though Harry's mind, so intense he couldn't breathe. His stomach knotted, and he curled up on his bed. He heard his mother screaming, saw Cedric falling, and worst of all, he remembered Sirius and the Veil. Sirius was dead, and it was all his fault. He never wanted to think of him again. Love was a weakness that killed everyone Harry bestowed it upon. He cried out and pulled on his own hair, the pain distracting him from the torrential feelings inside. 'Stop! Stop this! I'll do anything!'
'You don't want to feel this way?'
'No! Never! Please!'
'Very good. I do need to see some proof of your loyalty, however. You can't go unpunished.' Harry found himself rising and searching for something in his trunk. Into his hand came the penknife that Sirius had given him. Funny, he had thought it was broken, but the blade was glistening and new when he opened it. He sat upon his bed again, and closed the dark red curtains around it. 'Don't make a sound.'
He held the knife in his left hand, which strangely didn't feel awkward at all. He caught his own reflection in the metal for a moment. He didn't look right; the eyes were reddish, but he looked familiar. No, that wasn't important. What was important was to show he was committed to bettering himself. His hand moved steadily and quickly, slicing a long streak into his upper arm. The warm blood dripped down onto his cloak and blanket. Five more swift movements followed. His arm looked like a grim tally until all the blood commingled into a single river. It didn't hurt much; he didn't feel much pain lately. As soon as he realized that, it began to sear like fire. He wanted to grab it with his other hand, but it gripped the knife tighter and wouldn't move. His eyes blurred with tears and something else. He noticed a dark spot on his glasses, and tipping his head, he saw something red drip from his forehead, trail down his nose and onto the stained, wet area of his lap. 'Every time you betray me earns you another mark. Do you enjoy this? Do you think I want to hurt you? Now, one last test. It's your turn.'
He gritted his teeth and held his breath. The pain began to recede, to be combined with a pulsing euphoria. 'It's time.' He angled the tip of the knife, precisely and lovingly sculpting into his skin a design. First the skull, then the snake's head protruding from it. It was rather pretty, shining there in blood. He wiped the extra blood away with the back of his hand to admire it longer. His doubts ebbed with the crimson flow. He stared at it, unfocused, as if daydreaming at the stars at night, until a voice whispered, 'That's enough. We don't want you to bleed to death, just yet.' He laid his cool hand upon each cut for a moment. The blood vanished as the wounds healed, replaced by shiny pink scars.
Harry lay down to rest, skin tingling and mind blissfully free and unconcerned.
* * * * * * *
No one would leave me alone today, but I took care of it. First, Colin Creevy and his little brother were whinging at me to go to Quidditch practice even though I told them I was busy. I "accidentally" broke his camera. The little Mudbloods ran off bawling.
Then Neville Longbottom came up to me, professing his unending sorrow for the loss of "my godfather." He reminded me that he knew what it was like to lose family, and I explained to him that it was better that mine were dead, rather than weak and uncommitted to their cause." He didn't exactly run off bawling because he's too incompetent, but I think he'll stay away now.
I finally made my way to Hagrid's shack, which was my original goal for the day. He'd sent a heartfelt note about how much he missed Harry and how he'd lost his father too. I fail to see why father figures are so overrated. Mine was never useful until fifty years after I killed him. I figured the visit would be good for a laugh. I hadn't seen Rubeus for a very long time.
He offered me passable tea and revolting food. He told me how he still missed his dad, and I told him it was good that his father didn't know Aragog got him expelled. "Did I tell you he tried to eat me and Ron... and Fang?" He gave me a hard look and changed the subject. He told me he missed me in class and wished I hadn't had to drop it to focus on my NEWTS. He wanted to show me some disgusting new creature he'd acquired, but I had other plans. We walked to the chicken pen, and I asked him how old his roosters were. He gave me another odd look and told me I knew they'd all been killed my second year. "Well, I didn't know if you got young ones or old ones to replace them." It seems that none of them are seven years old, and as it's the wrong time of year as well, I'll have to wait to hatch another Basilisk. I figured even with as dense as Hagrid is, asking him outright for a rooster egg would be very suspicious. By next summer, it won't matter anyway.
I have no doubt who orchestrated this sudden outpouring of emotion toward me. The situation needs to be remedied, but other priorities must come first.
* * * * * * *
Ginny Weasley was very tired. She'd stayed up late studying for Potions and History of Magic two nights in a row. She sank into bed after midnight, pretty red hair spread on her pillow, framing her creamy freckled skin, no worry furrowing her smooth brow. In just the right lighting, she would look like a peaceful angel. It would be a shame to disturb her right now. There was a better opportunity first.
Hermione Granger, on the other hand, slept fitfully, with her frizzy brown hair tangled in knots. Her face was tense and her fingernails cut into the palms of her clenched fists. She was already having another nightmare about how Harry abandoned the world to the evil rule of Lord Voldemort.
It was easy enough to slip in another scene. Hermione was running home, out of breath and chest aching. Above the modest suburban two-story home was an omen, the sparkling emerald constellation of the Dark Mark. She beat at the front entrance, which wouldn't open, and ran around to the back, where the door lie broken on the ground. She screamed through the house, checking every room, until she came to the upstairs bedroom, where her Muggle dentist parents lay dead in bed. Their faces were frozen in horror, and a greenish haze still lay over them. She turned to see the tall, regal, pale figure of Voldemort, eyes glowing in fury, hands ready to strike her. "The weak shall perish!" she heard as she fainted.
Ginny must have heard her fellow Gryffindor's moans from the dormitory next door because she was lying on her side in a ball when Voldemort returned, appearing as his younger self, and silently sat on her bed. He touched her face and curled a lock of tangerine hair around his long finger. She stirred and blinked at his seemingly sixteen-year-old face. "Tom? How did you get here?" She sat up and remembered that she should fear him.
Casually, Tom's voice answered, "I'm not really here, Ginny. And don't bother to call for help. No one can hear you. You're asleep."
"But you're V-Vol..."
"No, I'm Tom." He covered her lips with his fingers for a moment. "You remember me. You said you missed me."
Looking into his dark eyes, she couldn't help but relax.
"You know I've never lied to you. Everyone else does, don't they? Even Dumbledore. He lies to Harry. You can't trust him."
She nodded slowly. "Last year Professor Dumbledore didn't tell Harry the truth, and then Sirius Black died. He was the only family Harry had left."
"Yes, you can't trust him. Everyone lies to you but me. Percy doesn't love you. He betrayed your family. Fred and George left you alone last year with that awful Umbridge. Ron doesn't have time for you, unless you're playing Quidditch. Your parents... well, they think the Order is more important than you, don't they? I was always with you. I always have time for you."
She twisted uncomfortably, resisting. "I don't know. They're busy, but--"
"Shh..." he petted her hair. "It will seem so much clearer in the morning. Just sleep." Her forehead smoothed, and her face became blank as she lay back down.
In the sixth year Gryffindor boys' dormitory, Voldemort settled Harry's body down under his sheets and left for the night. All in all, it had been a productive evening.
* * * * * * *
Harry got up late in the morning, extra alert and well rested. He felt he could face anything today. In the common room, he paused to overhear Ginny and Hermione talking about their dreams. Girls had such puerile concerns. Hermione was whispering something about Voldemort to Ginny, who replied that she thought she'd dreamed about Tom. Harry came up to them. "Voldemort isn't here. I'd know if he was."
Hermione shifted on the couch uncomfortably. "You shouldn't listen to private conversations. If you must know, I didn't think You-Know-Who was here. I just had a nightmare about my parents."
Before he could stop himself, he whispered so only she could hear, "They don't know it's dangerous to have a Mudblood child? Perhaps you should have seen fit to educate them about the dangers of the wizarding world. You have no difficulty lecturing everyone else."
She tossed her hair angrily and left the room.
"I'll see you again soon, Ginny." Harry charmingly smiled before chasing after Hermione. 'Reckless, reckless boy, now she needs to be Obliviated before she reaches a professor. Damn, she got away.' The plans would be adjusted accordingly, and Harry would have to mark himself again.
Ginny frowned at the portrait hole after he left for a long while. "It can't be..."
* * * * * * *
Ginny couldn't stop the nightmares that came every night. They always started the same. She was very afraid. She was covered in blood and feathers and didn't know what happened. Strange hissing came from her mouth, and she didn't know why. People were being Petrified, and she didn't know who to trust. She was so afraid someone would see her guilt and she'd go to Azkaban forever and ever... Then one night it changed.
'Azkaban? What would a little girl know about Azkaban? Perhaps I should show you.' Tom's normally soothing voice grated coldly on her nerves. Something terrible was about to happen. She wanted to run, but her feet wouldn't move. She wanted to scream, but her mouth wouldn't open. Around her, the familiar walls of Hogwarts faded away to be replaced with wet, cracked stone and iron bars.
First she noticed a dripping sound as her hearing faded in, and then crying and violent shrieking. Some men were calling for their wives. Others were screaming that they'd kill whoever put them there. A familiar woman was praying to Lord Voldemort for rescue. The dismalness sank into her soul, enveloping her lungs, making it hard to breathe.
Ginny felt clammy and shaky and her vision wavered. She crawled to the back of the cell and shivered forcefully. It seemed like it went on forever. She was all alone, she'd never get out, all alone, no one to help her, never get out, never, never...
Strong arms lifted her up, and she blindly returned the embrace. Soft lips kissed her forehead, and her nausea subsided. She opened her eyes to a bright contrast from her dark prison and sobbed into the shoulder of Tom Riddle. "Thank you, thank you for rescuing me."
* * * * * * *
Today Ginny was looking at me funny at lunch. I think she loves me.
Enough of this prattle. Time to get down to business. Remus Lupin has requested a meeting with Harry. I believe that Hermione has expressed concern about my welfare to him. Due to Harry's impulsive reactions toward her about her dream, and failure to stop her escape, the timetable must be moved forward, and the beast must be eliminated. As he stays in the castle during full moons, a minor alteration to his Wolfsbane Potion will be a sufficient response to the threat. This is a final test.
Remus Lupin was less of a challenge to face than the Headmaster himself, but Harry felt uneasy. He'd spent most of the summer with the man and managed to avoid him outside of class for much of the following school year. If this conversation didn't go properly, he'd lose all he gained this year and possibly be found out. Before he entered, he placed Salazar's silver serpent pendant around his neck in plain sight. It reassured him and made him feel aggressive.
"Hello, Harry. I haven't seen you much lately." Lupin's casual demeanor was belied by the intensity in his amber eyes. He was being screened before facing Dumbledore, and it wasn't time for that yet.
"Hello, Remus." He had to push down the distaste in his mouth to sound friendly. "I've been very busy bringing my grades up, you know."
"Yes, your scores in my class are excellent." His hand twitched a little as he handed an exam to Harry. His smile was forced, but subtly so. "That's an interesting pendant you're wearing. I've never seen it before."
"I found it at Black House last summer. I thought it was neat since I'm a Parselmouth, and all." He quickly slipped it over his head and offered it to Lupin. "I thought I already showed it to you, though. Want to see it?"
Pained, he shook his head. "That's silver. Thank you, though."
"Oh, I didn't notice. I had Professor Dumbledore check it over to make sure it wasn't cursed or anything, but I didn't know it was silver." He slipped it back on, suppressing a rising triumph.
"Speaking of Sirius's house, I wanted to talk to you about how you're feeling. Hermione says you've been... impatient, and I noticed you eat alone frequently." Steeling himself against the sensitizing vibrations of the silver necklace, he reached around and patted Harry on the back. "You can come to me if you need anything."
Harry pulled away too quickly, plastered a fake smile on his face, and said tightly, "I'll decide how I grieve and when I'm done." 'Control yourself. Do you want to be locked up?!' "I mean, I'm fine. I've just been so busy with school. If Hermione and Ron miss me, I'll try to spend more time with them."
"Please do that. You need to have some fun, and friends are very important. Oh, I forgot to give you your essay as well." He deliberately placed it in front of himself instead of Harry. Harry reached out with his left hand and his sleeve pulled back to the middle of his forearm. "Did you hurt yourself? There's a mark--"
Harry's false smile stayed, but he gazed a little off center of his professor's head. "Oh, I just burned myself in Potions last week. It's just a little scar. I'm used to scars, you know."
Remus nodded back. "They can be troublesome, though. Have a nice day, and think about what I said."
Harry left quickly. Damn, damn, what does he know? He couldn't bring himself to look the werewolf in the eyes to find out himself. He told himself it was due to fear of contamination, not emotional weakness, and headed straight to the dungeons to pay Professor Snape's Wolfsbane cauldron a visit.
