No human or being portrayed in this story belongs to me. All resemblances are non-coincidental. (Come on, this IS fanfiction!)
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A silent figure crept through the dark halls, avoiding the few pools of torchlight. She reached Professor Lupin's office and paused to look nervously about. No one was near. Ginny turned back to the door and whispered an unlocking charm.
Once inside, Ginny eased the door shut behind her and lit her wand. Holding it aloft, she scanned the room. A box shoved into a corner gave a sudden rattle. Ginny jumped, clutching her wand even harder. "Rid...Riddiculus," she whispered. Closing her eyes, she tried to concentrate on making Tom Riddle look absurd. It had been a lot easier during the daylight.
The catch on the chest was icy beneath her fingertips. With a sudden jerking movement, she flung open the lid and sprang back several feet. Nothing happened, and Ginny wondered if she needed to move closer. Then a thin mist pooled on the floor.
It paused, seeming to notice her, then condensed with a suddenness that made her jump. Before her, a basilisk lay dead, a dim figure standing next to it. Ginny took an involuntary step back, instincts a thousand years old screaming at her to flee. All memory of the boggart spell she had meant to use vanished.
Laughter sounded softly throughout the room, slowly gaining in volume. The shadowed figure turned slowly towards her and Ginny saw her own features in profile. Yet even as she watched, her twin's face dissolved, replaced by that of another. A sneer formed on a cruel face, and she felt an answering echo within her mind. As he swept through the dissolving figure of the basilisk, Tom Riddle reached out to her.
Ginny wasn't even aware of turning and sprinting for the door.
"Tom, I think I'm losing my memory. There are rooster feathers all over my robes and I don't know how they got there. I'm scared."
"It's all right, Ginny. You were probably just sleepwalking and blundered into a feather blanket or something."
"But I've never sleepwalked in my life."
"The stress of the first few months of school does strange things to you. Don't worry; it'll pass."
"Really? That makes me feel a lot better. I'm glad I've got you to talk to. You're like having a friend I can carry around in my pocket."
Echos from her flying feet resounded off the walls as Ginny fled through the corridors. Yet no matter how fast she ran, she couldn't escape the memories.
Ginny swam upwards from a deep sleep, only to realize dimly that she was still dreaming. Why else would she be shouting abuse at a snake perhaps sixty feet long?
"So what if they're students! They're Mudbloods, befouling your precious master's name! If I tell you to kill them, you will do as I say!" The serpent was shaking her head from side to side in protest, but was forced to back down.
Bemused, Ginny drifted back off to sleep.
Gasping for breath, Ginny slumped against a tapestry of a wizard being clubbed by a gang of tutu-clad trolls. Riddle seemed to stand before her, smirking. "No," she whispered, "no, you're dead. Harry killed you."
He laughed. "If I'm gone, then why are you speaking Parseltongue? Something of me remains, I think."
Ginny stared dazedly at the odd sight of her hand operating on its own accord. Then the meaning of the words it was inscribing on the wall sunk in. Panic surged through her body. She had to stop her hand from writing, had to make it obey her commands. It slowed, then paused, the paintbrush hovering over the wall. A quiet voice spoke from the depths of her mind. "What do you think you're doing?" She fought, but he merely laughed. "Haven't you learned yet that you can't resist me? Don't worry, it'll be over soon. I promise I'll take the time to remember you now and then. But right now, I think you need to go back to sleep." She was dimly aware of the brush moving over the stone again.
Ginny's eyes snapped open once more. She had the strange feeling that something had awakened her...
Her eyes fastened on the opposite wall. The cheerful wooden door had vanished. In its place stood a great archway framing serpent-carved stairs that spiraled into unseen depths. To the left side of the stairs was a slide of the same gray stone. Torches that gave off a dim, green glow lit the way at infrequent intervals. Ginny found herself standing under the archway, and paused, gazing back at the warm, familiar corridor. Then, as if this was something she had planned to do from the beginning, she turned away and stepped into the dimness. Even as she seated herself on the slide, she heard the archway sealing itself behind her.
Something slammed into Ginny's shoulder and she gasped as the Compulsion holding her shattered. The basilisk hissed in relief, even as she raised her head above Ginny's line of sight. It took Ginny a moment to realize that the words she was hearing were being spoken by the serpent. "Throw it away! Hurry, before he comes back!" Ginny hesitated, uncertain. The basilisk jerked her head in impatience. "In your arms, the book. Toss it away!"
Looking down at herself, Ginny became aware for the first time of the diary she was clutching to her chest. She felt a sudden surge of revulsion and she hurled the diary away, watching as it landed next to the toes of the nearby statue. But even as she turned to run, a wave of weakness overwhelmed her, and she fell to her knees. Through vision that seemed suddenly tunneled, Ginny saw the faint outline of a boy rising from the book.
The basilisk spat and attempted to strike at Riddle. A look of anger crossed his face as her head passed through his body. "I'll deal with you later, Sangre. Get to your den, now!"
Ginny tried to speak, to plead with her defender not to leave, but was unable to force the words from her frozen lips. The statue's mouth closed behind Sangre's tail and it was as if she had never been present. Another wave of exhaustion swept over Ginny, and as she fell into a state deeper than sleep, she was dimly aware of Tom's cold laughter.
The outer chamber was as she remembered it, except that the wall of rocks seemed somewhat more broken down. The glittering eyes of the serpents carved on the door seemed to watch her as she approached. Ginny wasn't even aware that she'd spoken until the doors swung open.
Ginny's eyes snapped open, and she stared up at Harry's slime-covered form. Her mind whirled with thoughts and memories, some her own, some utterly alien. To one side lay Riddle's diary, which had a hole burned through it. The long fang which lay in the middle of a slowly spreading puddle of ink gave mute witness to the cause of the diary's destruction.
A sudden feeling of release went through her, and words poured out of her mouth as she tried to tell Harry what exactly had happened. Then her eyes fell on Sangre, and she froze in horror. Harry turned quickly to see what had caught her attention, and she forced herself to speak. "How did you kill...", she faltered, unable to make herself say Sangre's name, unwilling to make the scene real, "that thing?" Something deep inside her screamed, but she refused to tell Harry he'd unwittingly killed her ally...refused to let Tom have that last victory. Tears ran down her face as she followed Harry out of the chamber.
Ginny walked slowly down the row of columns towards Slytherin's statue. Shivering, she paused at its feet. The panic that had filled her before had vanished, leaving a sense of wrongness in its wake. It took her a moment to identify the cause, then her head snapped around to where Sangre had fallen. The stone floor lay empty, with no trace of the basilisk's body.
Ginny swayed, feeling suddenly faint. Had it all been a dream? Had she only imagined Tom?...Harry rescuing her?...Sangre? Reality seemed to bend for a moment, but then the memories forced their way forward once more, refusing to be denied.
Ginny took a step forward, her entire being focused on the empty floor. A sudden swish in the air behind her was the only warning before something grazed her side, shoving her violently to the right. Ginny spun, barely keeping herself from falling. An emaciated travesty of a serpent recoiled itself in preparation for another strike, empty eye sockets staring blindly at the room. As the basilisk opened her jaws in a hiss, Ginny saw a scar in the roof of her mouth. Her breath caught in her throat as she whispered, "Sangre?"
The basilisk froze, then uncertainly answered, "Mistress?" She hesitated, then cautiously glided over and gently touched her nose to Ginny's shoulder. The two stood together for some time, taking comfort in the other's presence.
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Four months later...
A whiplike crack split the air just before Sangre's tail smashed into a Death Eater. Even as he fell, Ginny turned her attention to another who was attempting to curse her familiar. She shouted a counter-curse and he fell to the ground. Sangre's spitting filled the air as she thrust her head forward to strike yet another opponent. Ginny gave him no more than a fleeting glance as he vanished beneath the basilisk's body. Slowly, the two worked their way forward, their target nearly within reach.
Voldemort's snake face glared out at them, and he leveled his wand in their direction. A sudden lunge from Sangre slammed him into the ground. Ginny ran the last few steps and stood over his body, wand aimed at his throat.
She gazed down at his inhuman features, emotions warring within her. Deep inside, she heard Riddle's laughter, daring her to continue. She laughed back; the urge to obey had long ago vanished. She stepped away from Voldemort's body. "Finite Incantum."
All around, various manikins fell to the floor. Ginny's gaze didn't leave the one onto which she had painstakingly painted Voldemort's face.
"You've lost, and you don't even know it yet. Sangre and I both live, and worse, we know you. Better than Dumbledore, better than Harry."
She glanced in satisfaction around the feared Chamber of Secrets. It was hers, now, in a way that few places could be. Even if she was only able to slip away to it a few hours out of each night.
They say learn from your enemies, and we have. Cunning was the first lesson. Hate was the second.
Her hand reached out to rub around Sangre's empty eyesocket. Catlike, the basilisk angled her head so that her chosen mistress was scratching an especially itchy spot. Laughter bubbled up within Ginny. Riddle's laughter, but now, hers, too.
Give us a few years. Soon we'll be the ones haunting your dreams. Sleep tight, while you can...
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I live off of reviews. Even one word? Please? (Sorry if this sounds a little pathetic, but the last one I posted didn't get even one review and I'm feeling a bit down.)