OH MY GOD, I've neglected this story beyond apologies. I have attempted to write versions of this chapter, but this is the first one I think I could continue with relative ease. I must thank all of my reviewers (are you guys still there?), which includes:
LyssaTucci, Wolf Archer, Chucky1982, FiCtIoNfAn, RianSapphire9, Leena, letylyf, Grinning Penguin, meen green dancing machine, Kill-stealer, Lady Lestrange, The all mighty and powerfulM, Lilliane, Nobody22, ele, Persephonie, Sesshoumarus-girl, Catt, Velvet Rose1, CS June, and Drogan.
My next update will come a lot sooner, I assure you.
The Forgotten and the Remembered
Chapter 5
Before the current Hogwarts year, Ginny had told her parents she had gone to stay at her friend Cynthia Brum's house, who was a muggle-born Hufflepuff. To avoid arousing suspicion, she informed her family that the Brums were deathly afraid of magic and were likely to pull their daughter out of Hogwarts if they saw as much as an owl. This was partially true, since Dumbledore that to personally convince Cynthia's parents to allow her to attend school.
However, Ginny did not go to Cynthia's house, but Diagon Alley. Most of the things she ached to know were not accessible at the Burrow, and bringing back books with titles like Ginny planned to study would not be very inconspicuous. So she looked for work and a place to stay at her next visit and made arrangements for the summer.
She found work as a clerk for a pet store handling money and records. She never did any of the actual work with the animals; Mims, the owner, was the only one to handle them. However, she did work with them in one particular case.
Mims was having trouble with a duo of exotic snakes that hissed threateningly and even attacked prospective buyers. The snakes, which were from Merlin knows where, were causing the old man lots of trouble with customers and he was anxious to sell them to some brave customer just so he could be through with them.
Ginny was confused and frightened when she began to understand the snakes. When she first heard the voices, she was so startled she dropped a sack of sickles a customer had handed her, coins going everywhere. Mims glared at her from across the store, where he was tending to the owls.
"Sorry," she muttered, getting on her knees and gathering the scattered coins hurriedly.
"Why didn't you tell me the snakes spoke?" Ginny asked, picking the last sickle off of the ground.
"What the hell are you talking about?" Mims questioned, his short nose wrinkling. Though he was not a horrible employer, Mims was not the nicest person, often chastising Ginny for small mistakes.
"Are you sure?" she asked, standing up and brushing the dust off of her robes. "I heard voices from the cages."
Narrowing his eyes at her, Mims walked a few feet away from the cages in question.
"Hello, my angry serpents," he cooed mockingly. "Miss Weasley tells me that you can talk."
"Of courssse we can, you fool," an orange one replied in annoyance. "It'sss not our fault you don't underssstand."
Ginny held back a snicker as Mims turned to her.
"See? I told you, they don't talk," he said, with a slight sneer of triumph gracing his features.
"But they did!" insisted Ginny. She bit her lip and looked at him. "They just insulted you."
"What?"
"Well, the orange one called you a fool-"
As soon as Mims could get close enough, he grabbed her shoulder sharply.
"You understand them?" he demanded, his mustached face closer than Ginny had ever wanted it to be. "Are you a Parselmouth?"
"I-I- don't know," she stammered, pulling herself out of his grip. "I've never understood what they were saying before."
"Go back to work," he said roughly. "We'll try something after closing."
Luckily, the store was almost empty and no one took notice of the strange happening. Half an hour later, Mims pulled his wand out and flipped the sign on the entrance to read 'CLOSED'.
There was an uncomfortable pause.
"Miss Weasley, come over here."
Ginny hesitated, but walked over in front of the cages. The orange serpent slithered impatiently around its cage. Another one, light blue, stared back and was still. She knew what Mims wanted her to do.
"Hello?" she finally said.
The orange snake stopped abruptly, then it unleashed a string of insults Ginny had never heard before in her life, insults that could only be conveyed in Parseltongue.
"You wisssh to sssell us and ssseparate us!" it accused after the long train of snake expletives.
Ginny paused, then laughed. "Is that what you're worried about? We will sell you- is a pet store, after all- but I can have it arranged so that you two remain together, if that will stop your attacks towards the customers "
The blue snake twitched slightly. "How isss it that you can ssspeak our language?"
Ginny thought. "I honestly don't know," she admitted. "You're the first snakes I've talked to."
"We accept your termsss, human. If you do not keep your word, may a basssilisssk devour you," the orange snake hissed.
She involuntarily shuddered at the mentioning. That brought back memories of the Chamber and… Tom. She shook off the feeling as Mims said something.
His words sounded strange to her after listening to the snakes; English was a much harsher language than Parseltongue.
"Are you going to fire me now?" she asked, suddenly realizing she had put herself into a compromising position by talking with the serpents.
"Let's just let this be our secret," he murmured, looking shaken after seeing his meek employee conversing with the snakes. It reminded him oddly of his Lord Voldemort speaking with his familiar. The same mannerisms were present in the two parselmouths.
Did Voldemort know about the girl? Mims looked back at Ginny and decided he would rather not attract the attention he would get by exposing the girl.
"…our secret," he repeated.
Ginny found herself underneath a scratchy dark blue sheet and a thick wool blanket when she woke. Her eyes opened slowly, taking in the surroundings before she had a chance to comprehend what had happened.
Table, curtains, lamp, Tom, she thought, looking around. Tom!
"What happened?" she demanded, pushing herself into a sitting position. Swinging her feet to the side of the bed, she felt the unfinished wood floor rough against her feet. She reached for her wand, but she was still in her pajamas and without her only mean of magical defense.
"You. What did you do?" she asked again.
"Is everything my fault, Ginny" he asked in a mock-hurt voice. "Isn't this your doing? You brought me out of that wretched book and gave me the means to live. What I did is a direct result of your actions."
Ginny was speechless. Wasn't it what she wanted? She wanted to finally to be face to face with Tom again so that she could finally confront what had plagued her thoughts for the last five years.
"You don't want to fight me," Tom said passively, picking a leather book up from the table and running his skeletal fingers up and down the spine. "I know you; you're a part of me, Ginny. And you have bits of me scattered through you, whether you like it or not. If either one of us is destroyed, we would lose parts of ourselves."
Ginny watched him, waiting for something more.
"I didn't ask about any connections between us. I asked what you had done."
"I finished what you had started, sweet Ginny. You pulled me out of the diary with that stunt of yours, but I had to do something else to ensure that I really lived."
He smiled icily.
"And what was that?" Her mouth was dry.
He stopped fingering the book. "I killed your roommate and drunk the life from her."
His plain words echoed in Ginny's head. He usually spoke in a wayward manner, dancing around his main goal in his speech.
The news should have been devastating, but for some reason, it wasn't. Whether it was shock or something within Ginny that blocked her feelings from surfacing, she remained static emotionally.
"I rather enjoy this sensation of being alive," Tom mused, stretching his hands. "I have the memories of such feelings, but I suppose I never actually experienced them. For this, I have only you to thank."
"You're too proud to give anyone else credit for anything," Ginny accused.
"Before," he said, "I told you that you were a part of me. When I was attempting to use you to gain power for the first time, I took a lot from you. Most of it you got back when Harry Potter-" he hissed, "-saved the day. But some of you I retained. I became slightly more human, and you, I suppose, slightly less."
Tom was touching everything around him, but especially the books. Ginny watched him as he grinned childishly at the sensations that were previously denied from him.
"You know, I've never had to sleep. Or eat, for that matter." He paused and frowned. "Or shit. I'm sure that isn't too pleasant."
This is unbelievable, Ginny thought. Tom Riddle, alive and warm, was rambling about basic bodily functions after killing Ginny's housemate- her friend- the night before. Why didn't she feel anything that she was supposed to? Hatred and sorrow would have been acceptable.
Instead of a curse escaping her lips, Ginny found herself suggesting that they eat breakfast.
What in Merlin's name, was she thinking?