Chapter 3 – Escape
Disclaimer: You've got three guesses about why I've put a disclaimer in. NO! To disclaim something, of course. Oh, sorry, that was only one guess, wasn't it? Oh, well.
Ginny and Percy Weasley, Moaning Myrtle, Tom Riddle, Harry Potter, Severus Snape and Rubeus Hagrid belong to JK Rowling. Keep following that line of thought... since I am disclaiming something, I am either disclaiming the fact that I am JK Rowling (yes, that's right, haha) or the fact that I have any relationship to any of these characters. (Well, I'm really related to one of them, but I'm not telling you which one, and I'm not claiming any responsibility for anything that character does in this, or any other chapters.)
This is fanfiction, and if I was JK Rowling, I would be too busy having a life to sit in front of a computer and type out fanfiction all day. That means that I'm a fan!
Well done! Your minute little brain has come to the right conclusion!
I am not JK Rowling, Thankyou for thinking I am.
AN: There's one bit set on February 12th, that isn't necessary, but I thought was funny. That's the only reason I put it in. The poem in that part is JK Rowling's, not mine (see disclaimer for details).
Now that all that's over, here's the story:
January 22nd, 1993
I've stopped writing to Tom. I've realised what I've been so blind to all along. I see now why Percy seems to suspect me.
I'm the one attacking everyone.
Tom is forcing me.
It's the words.
I need to get away from him, but it's as though he's I my mind. I can't get him out of my thoughts. How do I escape? And do I really want to?
'Escape:
A blessing,
Or a curse?
Escape,
From a world
I know;
I love;
Is it possible?
Escape:
A word
That means so much.
Escape,
Forever;
Never turning
Back;
Could I do that?'
I realise suddenly that my feet are taking me to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom – the one that never works. What am I doing?
I tune out of the real world again, and think about how Tom was so nice. Even when I knew it was me attacking people, I didn't think he was causing it. I didn't want to think it.
And now, I'm haunted by him.
'Haunted by his ambitious dreams;
Haunted by their terrified screams.
Haunted by horrific screams;
Haunted in my daydreams.'
I stop walking and wonder briefly why I am standing in front of the toilet Moaning Myrtle inhabits. Then I look at the diary in my hands – Tom's diary – and fling it into the toilet. I quickly flush the said toilet and speed away from the scene of the crime, before I realise the mistake I've made.
February 12th, 1993
'Harry Potter.'
The words form themselves at the top of my clean page, and I realise that I'm not writing about Tom-
No! Get him out of your head!
'His eyes are as green as-'
I break off, trying to find a suitable description. For some reason, my thoughts are drawn to Professor Snape's classroom, where Tom found Hagrid-
No! Stop it!
'His eyes are as green as - a fresh pickled toad.
His hair is as dark as-'
Still in Snape's classroom, I mentally look around.
' – a blackboard.
I wish he was mine;
He's really divine:
The hero who conquered the Dark Lord.'
I read my poetry over critically. It could be better, but I'm not really in the mood to write poetry at the moment. At least it's original – more original than 'Roses are red/ Violets are blue/ Sugar is sweet/ And so are you,' anyway. Also, I'm not writing about Tom-
Why can't you stop thinking about him, Ginevra Molly Weasley?
I knew it was a mistake to get rid of his diary.
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrgggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhh!
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AN: Thankyou to my reviewers!
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Thankyou!