The Meeting

Ginny spent the first few moments in her new surroundings in a state of utter confusion. You can't apparate out of Hogwarts! This has got to be some sort of illusion! She tried to convince herself that Tom was playing head games with her as he had done the last time, but to no avail. He-who-must-not-be-named has never been bound by the laws of the universe in the same way as everyone else. They may not have apparated, but no doubt he knew another way.

When Ginny finally came out of her thoughts long enough to examine her surroundings she was hit by relief and shock almost simultaneously: relief at not finding herself in a graveyard or similarly creepy place and shock for exactly the same reason. What she instead found was that she was in an elegant study. In the moments before he spoke she was surprised to find herself admiring her surroundings. A twinge of guilt gripped her stomach as she found herself wishing her parents would have cared a little more about having nice things, though if she had looked closer at the details she might not have been envious at all. The portraits held infamous witches and wizards, many of which very handsome despite the leering gazes that gave hints to the cold minds and hearts hidden beneath. The books which lined the shelves were by no means better. Many of which were genealogies of pure-blood families, others told of spells and potions long considered unlawful and unforgivable as well as the most powerful one that are still in sorted use.

Ginny tried to look at what was to the right and left of her, but even as she did so, she felt her eyes being pulled forward. She knew who was there and so she tried not to look, but his pull was inexorable. She had seen Tom many times before, but never his older counterpart. Ginny remembered Harry describing him, knew he would have red snake-like eyes and marble-white skin, but all the descriptions in the world could not prepare her to coming face to face with it. When her eyes were finally forced upon his it was all she could do to keep from screaming. The image of Tom Riddle that had brought her there was amalgamating with the seated Dark Lord. She could almost see his power growing as he incorporated a missing piece back into his personage. But Ginny wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing; she was able to hold her tongue. The knowledge that she had survived him before flitted through her head as she lowered her eyes, not wanting nor feeling like it would be appropriate to watch any longer. The Dark Lord would not give her a chance if she appeared defiant or even rude, but perhaps if… She didn't know what if. The ball was in his court and they both knew it. Best to be servile until she at least knew what he wanted. He wouldn't have brought me here if there wasn't something he wanted, no use getting myself killed before I know what it is.

"Hello Ginevra. How nice of you to join me. Not as if you had any choice, of course." She hated him. Hated him so much. How could he sit there in that high-back armchair and talk to her in such a seemingly pleasant manner when the last time they had met he had been in the process of killing her by slowly draining her life-force? "Now now, Ginevra, you can not truly be upset about that. You should be honored that I chose you to help facilitate my return to power. It is because of your past service that I am giving you a chance now." Out of all the wizards out there, he chose her… But that was stupid! She shook her head slightly, trying to clear it. He was manipulating her again.

"What do you want from me?" It came out much louder and higher pitched than she intended. He was getting to her.

"Calm down," he chastised in infuriatingly mellow tones. "You'll find out your purpose soon enough. For now all I need is for you to swear your allegiance by accepting the dark mark." The Dark Lord's lip curled up at the mingled look of horror and fear that flashed across the young Weasley's face. Growing up in the wizarding world, Ginny knew what the dark mark was; she knew that it was a skull with a snake coming out of its mouth and that appeared in the sky at the Quidditch World Cup two years ago when the Death Eaters had gathered to wreak havoc. She had also heard that years ago whenever the Death Eaters killed the mark was seen above the house of the dead witch or wizard. But that didn't explain what taking the dark mark meant. She knew the Death Eaters were somehow branded… she finally decided to just ask.

"What do you mean 'accept the dark mark'… sir?" There was probably something more appropriate to address him as, but she couldn't think of anything at the moment.

"It is simple really," that horrid coldly polite voice again, "I imprint the dark mark on your arm. That way, when it glows you know you are being summoned and I always know where you are. When you aren't needed, the mark is invisible."

She wanted to ask again why he wanted her, but she knew he wouldn't answer and she probably get at least the Cruciatus curse put on her for impudence. Ginny really wasn't sure about this. What could he possibly want her for? But more importantly, did she even have a choice? Perhaps if she agreed she could spy for Dumbledore or maybe even figure out some way he could be defeated… If she could do that, she'd show those other pure-bloods that the Weasleys weren't to be looked down on just because they didn't have the amount of gold the other families did. But could she really stand up to You-know-who? She had before… for a while at any rate. But she was older now and she knew what to expect. She was still looking at the floor and did not see the Dark Lord's bemused expression. Her own thoughts were winning her to his side, he had been prepared to push but that didn't seem to be necessary. Delusions of grandeur, over-confidence… they were the downfalls of so many capable wizards.

"I- I don't know," was the answer Ginny finally came up with.

"You will only receive this offer once. If you refuse, your family moves to the top of my list of blood-traitors to terminate. Starting with you."

Well, that seemed to clear it up a bit. Death for her whole family or a tattoo. If she chose the dark mark there was at least the chance she could resist, find out something useful. If she declined, there was no chance at anything. Ginny still had images of herself as a heroine on the front page of the Daily Prophet under the headline of "The Witch Who Defeated You-Know-Who" when she gave her answer.

"Alright." She said in as calm a voice as she could muster.