Chapter Three Little Girl Lost
"It must be something else, Hermione," Ron said as they continued down the hallway. "Where's the newspaper? Let's see what else is on it."
Ginny stepped out of the shadows and watched the three of them walk away, just as she had many times before. Hermione answered Ron, but their voices faded as they walked through the long hallway towards the Headmaster's office. She felt a flash of long-remembered jealousy rush through her. It wasn't fair she was still excluded from them after everything they had done together last year in the Department of Mysteries. She was proud of what she was able to accomplish fighting the Death Eaters, and Harry had never even thanked her!
But then, all she had suffered was a broken ankle, not like Hermione and Ron, who – Stop it, she told herself. You're being an insufferable prat.
But it should be different for her; she was Ron's sister and Harry –
That train of thought needs to be halted right now, Ginerva, she thought firmly. Harry barely knew she existed and had never thought of her that way.
That's not true, her mind rebelled once again. There was last Sunday afternoon to consider. Ginny leaned back on the wall, her mind floating back to when she was waking from a nap on the sofa in the common room. It was such a lovely dream she was having, one she never wanted to end. But she could feel something pulling her back to the real world. She stretched like a cat lying under a sun-warmed window before opening her eyes.
Harry sat across from her in one of the arm chairs, with the oddest expression on his face. His legs were crossed at the ankles, and he was looking at her as if he had never seen her before.
Ginny's hand instantly flew to her mouth, nonchalantly checking for moisture. She glanced down at the pillow, relief coursing through her.
Smiling softly as she burrowed back down into the pillow, she asked, "I'm sorry, was I snoring?" She tucked a strand of sleep-mussed hair behind her ear.
Harry looked as if he was on the verge of saying something when Crookshanks jumped up into his lap, tearing his gaze from her face and breaking the moment. Dean also chose that moment to come in through the portrait hole. "No, you weren't snoring," he said uncomfortably before standing and putting the cat in his vacated space. "I have to go find Ron." He gave her one last inscrutable look before heading towards the stairs.
A flash of annoyance coursed through her and she resisted the urge to push her boyfriend away as he sat down beside her. Ginny watched Harry's retreating back before she closed her eyes and shook her head in bewilderment. Just how was she supposed to interpret that? Damn interruptions, Ginny thought sullenly.
Matters were not resolved the next time she saw him. She tried to catch his eye, wanting to ask if everything was okay, determined she was not going to act like an immature school girl, but he had acted as if nothing had happened. To Ginny, this meant he barely spoke or looked at her, even though she tried her best to sit down across from him in the Great Hall whenever she had the chance. She was sure he was watching her, but every time she'd look down towards him, he was looking the other way.
Nothing had happened, so what were you expecting? The tiny voice in her head whispered. Oh, shut it! Ginny thought furiously. She pounded her fist on the stone wall behind her. It wasn't fair! She was over him and had been for a year.
How could he make her fall in love with him all over again with one look?
He was magic and myth, this Boy Who Lived, the one who disappeared after defeating the Dark Lord when he just a year old. He was the boy who grew up among his Muggle relatives not knowing how special he was to the wizarding world. He had no idea of the celebrations that were held in his honor for defeating You-Know-Who.
He was Harry Potter, and she had always been in love with him. How could she, the little girl who knew of him from the time she could walk, ever hope to catch his eye?
He was the boy who saved her life and he was her brother's best friend.
So many of her sleeping dreams centered on Harry, Ginny thought uncomfortably, including the one she awoke from last Sunday. It was the recurring dream of Harry finally cupping her cheek in his palm and lowering his warm mouth to hers.
Even last year when she swore she was over him, he still invaded her dreams more than she cared to admit. Ginny bowed her head, sighing deeply. She played with a tendril of copper and brushed the ends of her hair across her lips, reliving the sensation of the kiss from her dream. She'd been kissed before, but Harry's dream kiss had seemed more like a memory than dream.
How could she do this to herself again? She didn't want to love him, but she had no choice.
He was just Harry, and he broke her heart every day.
A gamut of perplexing emotions assaulted her confused mind all at once, and she allowed herself a moment to swim in the sensations before deciding to head back to the common room. She squared her shoulders and walked into the hallway, ducking out of the way as a summoned newspaper soared towards her. She watched it as it flew overhead and out of sight around the corner.
"All right, Ginny?"
She jumped at the sound of the voice, her hand instantly going to her back pocket and her wand. "Dean," she said as she lowered it, her other hand coming up to rest on her heart. "You nearly frightened me half to death. What are you doing here?" She silently willed her heart to slow. The irony of the situation was not lost on her, her boyfriend coming upon her while she was thinking only of Harry.
"We were going to meet in the library after Quidditch practice. I waited outside the changing room for a half an hour."
Ginny's face flushed with embarrassment. "Oh, Dean," she said, reaching out for his arm. "I'm sorry, I forgot."
To her surprise, Dean shrugged off her hand and his face clouded over. "You've been forgetting a lot of things lately where I'm concerned."
Annoyance coursed through her body, and she put her hands to her hips to confront him. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Exactly what I said. You've been distracted all week. I don't think we've said more than ten words to one another since last Saturday night and when we do speak, all we've been doing is arguing with one another." Dean looked down at the floor and then back at her. "You haven't been sitting with me at meals." He paused for a moment before asking, "When's the last time we shared a kiss?"
"That's absurd," she said as she pounded her fist against her jeans-clad leg. "I haven't forgotten you at all, I've just been distracted!"
So true, the little voice in Ginny's head whispered. Distracted by a certain sixth year boy who was not her boyfriend. Shut UP! She told herself firmly.
Whatever Dean was going to say in retort was cut off by a drawling voice behind her. "Well, well, if it isn't a Weasley and her boyfriend." There was a chorus of low chuckles from behind her, and she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath before turning to face Draco Malfoy.
"Always so brave when you're surrounded by your goons, aren't you, Malfoy?" she said as she brought her wand up and pointed it at his chest. A curious sort of calm came over her as she flashed him a look of icy disdain. "We've already been through the Bat-Bogey Hex, what shall we try this time?"
"Ah, Weasley," Malfoy said, smiling maliciously. "Take care, will you? I would certainly hate for anything you do to me now to affect your future."
"Whatever are you going on about?" Ginny asked impatiently.
"Don't know yet? Well, I certainly don't want to be the one to ruin the surprise."
Crabbe and Goyle smiled menacingly at her from behind Draco Malfoy.
A slow sickle of ice began to form in the pit of her stomach. What could he mean? Was he testing her? Provoking her? Well she wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of reacting to his taunts. His father was presently in Azkaban; how would Malfoy know anything of future?
"Ginny, let's go," Dean said quietly behind her.
"Could you imagine what will become of your family? When the Dark Lord takes over, I mean?" Malfoy continued, ignoring Dean. "Panhandling and charity would certainly be in your future. Not that you're far above panhandling already." Crabbe and Goyle sniggered behind him and Malfoy reached for his wand, but Ginny stopped him with a wave of her own.
"I wouldn't if I were you," she said, strong and clear. "I'll have the three of you hexed within an inch of your lives before your wands clear your robes."
Dean brought his wand from his pocket and moved so he faced off with the three Slytherins beside Ginny.
"You're a nasty little ferret, Malfoy," Ginny said with a slight smile she knew would infuriate Malfoy. "No hex invented yet is rotten enough for the likes of you. Nothing you could do or say would ever make me fear for me or my family's safety. Especially since your own Death Eater father is locked in Azkaban." She cocked her head to the side and smiled cruelly. "Has he gone insane yet?"
"You're not fit to lick my father's boots!" Malfoy's face went red as he went for his wand. She felt a welcome rush of guilty pleasure at Malfoy's discomfort. He loved provoking a reaction by his unpleasant words and actions, but he reacted like the spoilt child he was when it was his turn. Ginny reacted with the reflexes of a hungry cat that had just spotted a nice, plump mouse to eat. She threw back her head, and shouted, "Everte Statum!"
Her spell lifted all three of the Slytherins off their feet as they flew down the hallway. They landed on their backs with an audible thump and groans of pain. She stalked towards them, jinxing all three of them with another spell. Insect feelers and mandibles sprouted from their heads and mouths as they attempted to yell at her.
"Let's go," Dean said as he grasped Ginny's arm possessively, halting her progress and pulling her off balance. He dragged her down the hallway away from the three boys who were attempting to get up with their pincers clicking in anger.
"What are you doing?" Ginny snapped when Dean had wrenched her around the corner and pushed her towards the stone wall. "Let go of me!" She wrenched her arm out of Dean's grip.
"I was trying to keep you from doing something you would regret!" he said, not bothering to hide the barely-controlled anger in his voice.
"How could I ever regret hexing that little toad and his friends –"
"I was trying to keep you from getting expelled!" Dean interrupted vehemently, his voice rising along with hers.
"That hex is going to wear off in a quarter of an hour. They won't report me," Ginny shouted back at him. "I don't need you to protect me, Dean. I can do quite well on my own, thank you."
Dean narrowed his eyes at her as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Just what is that supposed to mean?"
All at once, it was just too much.
Ginny had enough with everything. She had had enough with Dean and his constant presence around her. Everything seemed to pile on at once, and she just wanted it to stop. She brought her fingers to her forehead and rubbed the skin hard. A pounding headache was beginning to throb behind her eyes.
The anger she felt for Malfoy and Dean faded as she realized she was just so tired. Tired of her frayed-at-the-end emotions, tired of having a boyfriend, tired of wondering what Harry was doing or feeling.
She was tired of wondering if Harry thought of her at all.
What she really needed was just a break from it all. "I don't think…"
"What?" Dean asked, his arms falling to his sides. He took a step towards her and took her hand in his.
Ginny looked up at him, wondering what he was thinking right then. Did he realize their time together as a couple was coming to an end? How could she break his heart? Would she break his heart? Dean had never considered her girlfriend material until Ginny decided one night last year to change his mind. She remembered with a slight surge of pride how it felt the first time she had kissed him, the power she felt course through her when she looked up at his closed eyes, his lips still pursed for more. Dean was a wonderful boyfriend and if she had never met Harry he would be someone she could see herself spending the rest of her life with. But the truth of the matter was he wasn't enough for her. Dean liked routine, and predictability had never been one of her strongest points.
Ginny was at a loss on how to say what she had been thinking and what she knew was right. His hand was so warm, and she resisted linking her fingers between his. She looked back down at the stone floor and said in a clear voice, "I don't think we should see one another anymore."
"Look at me when you're breaking up with me, Ginny," Dean said quietly. "You could at least give me that."
Ginny brought her head up, awkwardly clearing her throat. "I don't think we're good for each other. You want more from me than I'm willing to give and you deserve better."
"Because there has always been someone else for you," Dean said quite calmly, still holding her hand.
Ginny shifted uneasily and leaned back on the wall, uncomfortable with the fact he spoke the truth. Not knowing what to say humbled her, and she looked away from him. How could she deny how she was feeling? She didn't want to hurt him; she always considered him a good friend, but what they were doing, what she was doing to him by being his girlfriend diminished their friendship. She did not want to keep the relationship together just for the sake of appearances; it wasn't fair to him.
It would have been much easier if she could feel for Dean what she felt for Harry.
Ginny swallowed with difficulty and finally found her voice. "I'm sorry, Dean. You deserve someone who will be able to give you everything I can't," she said, closing her eyes. She could imagine how angry and hurt he must be with her.
"Or won't," Dean said sadly before sighing deeply. "I know you're sorry," he said finally, dropping her hand from his own.
After a few moments, Ginny opened her eyes, surprised to find herself alone in the corridor. She never heard him walk away. She slid down the wall and pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them.
Head in her hands, she stared at the floor until her vision blurred and she felt herself hating Harry just a little bit. Would falling in love with Harry again be worth it? Or was she just setting herself up for more heartbreak?
The pounding headache was beating with a savage fierceness now. Closing her eyes and dropping her head to her knees, she could feel her pulse throbbing in her ears. She wasn't up to going back to the common room and facing her school mates, not knowing what Dean had said, if anything. She might as well head to the hospital wing. A headache tonic and a nice lie down was just what she needed. Maybe she would skip dinner too and be able to get upstairs to her dorm room while everyone else was eating.
Ginny stood up, wiping the dust from the back of her jeans with her hand. Decision made, she squared her shoulders and headed to the infirmary.
As she slipped through the door unseen, Madam Pomfrey came out from behind a curtain by the last bed in the ward. She walked briskly to her office as Ginny gingerly closed the door behind her. An odd twinge of disappointment fluttered in her chest, knowing someone else was already lying in the bed she had come to think of as Harry's. It was really silly and she knew it, but her old habits seemed to be rearing their ugly heads lately. She would have liked to lie in Harry's hospital bed. She blew out her breath in a rush. The wisps of hair above her eyebrows moved swiftly with the puff of air. Stop being so pathetic, she thought, it's just a bed.
Taking a look around the infirmary, she noticed subtle differences all around her. Madam Pomfrey's ward was always kept so clean she could eat right off the floor, but something was just a bit off today. It was like a word or thought right on the tip of your tongue, gone when you tried to concentrate on it too hard. Here and there remnants of fabric littered the floor. Ginny stepped forward and felt a grittiness grind underneath her shoes. Looking down, she saw the floor was covered with sparkling bits of glass, the almost imperceptible dots of light glittering from the reflection of the candles hovering above her. The beds were all stripped of their linen, new sheets and blankets folded on the ends, waiting to be put back on the mattresses. She thought back to the snippet of conversation she had heard between her brother, Harry and Hermione and realized something had happened in here.
What had Ron said? He said something about someone trashing the infirmary.
Ginny raised an eyebrow and wondered just who it was behind the curtain by the windows. Were they the one who trashed the infirmary?
No shadows moved on the curtains, and Ginny bit her bottom lip, thinking hard. Curiosity won out and pulled her towards the bed. She looked over her shoulder towards Madam Pomfrey's office. The nurse was bending over her desk, a quill flying over an open book as she wrote her case notes from today's events.
Ginny looked towards the windows as the shadows gathered behind the gray clouds. The sun was setting. If she wanted to have a peek, it would have to be now. Before long, Madam Pomfrey would be coming through the wards to light the lamps.
With a small smile of accomplishment, she realized Malfoy and his cronies weren't here, which meant her spell had worked just as she wanted it to. She had only just learned the hex over the summer and had been lying to Dean when she said she knew they would revert back to normal after a short period of time.
Walking towards the bed, she snuck glances at the office, not wanting to be disturbed but knowing if she was caught, she did have a legitimate reason to be there. Even though she had to admit her headache was not nearly as bad as it was before. Ginny moved silently behind the curtain. The girl lying on the bed was someone she had never seen before. There were many students at Hogwarts she had never noticed before, but this girl stirred a feeling of something indescribable deep inside of her. Something was uncoiling in her mind, and it was dark and oily.
"I know you," said a cold voice from deep in her subconscious. Ginny began to tremble in icy fear as a memory was called, clouding her mind as it began to play behind her open eyes.
This memory was not her own.
The library opened before her, the long tables filled with students studying and talking quietly. The torches burned brightly, their flames dancing against the stone walls and dark windows. She was standing in the shadows of the stacks, to the left of a couple sitting in profile.
Ginny winced as she recognized the boy sitting there. It was Harry.
But yet, it wasn't.
She cocked her head to the side and she gazed hard at the boy. This Harry was different from her Harry; his hair was much shorter and he wasn't wearing glasses. Was this Harry's father? He leaned forward and whispered something Ginny couldn't hear.
The girl sitting in front of him looked up from her parchment and smiled, her face transforming from plain prettiness into one of stunning beauty. She wore an old-fashioned hair style, one Ginny recognized from old pictures of her mother's. The girl wore it parted on the side, swept away from her face and held back with two black clips. The ends curled under in a roll and lay right below her shoulders. Her lips were as red as rubies, her eyes dark in the torchlight.
A noise from behind Ginny startled both her and the girl. They turned to the sound.
A panic Ginny had only known once before in her life welled up inside of her and threatened to throw her over the edge of reason. She felt as if her breath was cut off and she struggled to breathe. It can't be him, her mind screamed.
Tom Riddle stood behind her, his arrogantly handsome face stony as he stared at the pair in front of him. He was much clearer and firmer than he was the first and last time Ginny had seen him as he walked out of the open diary lying on her bed.
She had stood in the middle of her dorm room, too frightened to move, staring at him in horror as he loomed in front of her. She couldn't believe it was possible for this entity to be gaining power from her. Every time she spilled ink across the page, all her deepest thoughts and secrets, it had become stronger. Tom Riddle had fed off of her, remaining her 'best friend' and begging her to write more, as she became weaker and started losing time. Unnerved by the charming smile he wore when she first saw him, she stumbled backwards. She tripped over the rug and fell to the floor.
He was more ghost than man the first time she had ever seen him, semi-transparent and blurry around the edges. He loomed over her and held his hand out to her and it was the last thing she remembered before awakening in the Chamber of Secrets with Harry kneeling over her, smiling in relief.
But it was unmistakably he who cleared his throat, causing the girl to look up, and her smile faded from her face. She said something to Not-Harry and he turned to look towards Riddle, his face darkening in anger. Another boy come up alongside of Tom and turned to look at the couple sitting at the table. His face flushed in anger under his white blond hair. "What is she doing?"
"Calm down, Abaxas, I believe she is tutoring him."
"She has belonged to me since the day she was born female. I believe I have the right to be angry at her if I choose."
Tom Riddle turned towards his companion and gave him a look which caused the other boy to move away from him. "I've decided," said the boy.
"Have you?" Tom asked, still staring at the girl.
"I will use him for my Horcrux."
Finally Tom's expression changed. Cold fury replaced his aloof look of boredom. He spun on Abaxas and pulled out his wand. His voice did not rise, but his anger was plain. "How dare you speak of it here? I was a fool to tell you of it at all. You dare risk my displeasure? Have you forgotten what I'm capable of? I may decide to change my mind and you use as MY Horcurx. Get out of my sight before I lose my temper and decide you are not worth it to live."
Ginny felt as if her knees had turned to rubber, and trying to scream, she realized her voice was gone. How could she be here? How could Tom Riddle be standing behind her? Harry had banished him from the Chamber of Secrets in her first year! He had killed the Basilisk and then stabbed the diary with the Basilisk's broken fang. Riddle had disappeared as the memory of him bled from the battered leather book.
Ginny reached out a hand to the stacks, trying to steady her erratic heartbeat and ragged breathing. Even as frightened as she was at seeing him again, a flash of white-hot anger spread through her body. Tom Riddle had pretended to be her friend and pretended to care about her. She longed to have her wand in her hand so she could hex him until he was unrecognizable as a human being.
The girl was busy gathering her belongings and placing them in a rucksack while Not-Harry spoke low and quickly to her. She was shaking her head at him, saying something in a whisper before looking into his face and touching his hand briefly. Not-Harry stood, his arms crossing his chest in a manner that clearly said he was not happy about the girl leaving.
But, but, Ginny's mind screamed, this can't be happening! That boy couldn't be Harry's father, not if Tom Riddle was there. Harry's father was the same age as Professor Lupin and Sirius. If he was not Harry's father, could it be his grandfather? she wondered in miserable confusion.
The girl looked down at the floor and her pale face swam before Ginny's eyes as she realized she was the same girl lying in the infirmary bed. Ginny spared a glance behind her and realized Tom's face was glowing in cold triumph. He flicked his head towards the girl, motioning her out of the library and into the hallway. His bitter smile fading from his face briefly as Not-Harry stopped the girl and touched her arm.
"I'll be fine, Henry," the girl said as she pulled her rucksack over her shoulder and this time, Ginny heard her. It was low, husky and breathless. "I'll meet you in the common room in an hour, all right?"
Henry began to gather his books, parchments and quills. "I want to come with you."
"Please, Henry, don't do this. I won't be long. Don't make him angry with you."
"Why? So what if he's Head Boy. He's a Slytherin. He can't do anything to me."
The girl shook her head and pulled him by the arm to face him. She looked up at him and Ginny could see her eyes were vibrantly blue. Whatever she said, it was low enough and strong enough to make Henry sink back into his wooden chair. He narrowed his eyes as he watched her retreating back.
Tom spared the girl one last look before turning and striding from the library. The girl followed behind him, her head bowed, but her eyes were burning with hatred as she stared at his back.
Well, girl, Ginny thought as her head cleared, that makes two of us.
With a rush of color and air, she was back in the infirmary, in her own time. Ginny whirled out from behind the curtain, barely taking notice of Madam Pomfrey's startled glance as she dropped to her knees and became violently ill.