Potter47 ~ Part Three ~
Prisoners of the Mind "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times,
it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness,
it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity,
it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness,
it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair,
we had everything before us, we had nothing before us,
we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the
other way—in short, the period was so far like the present period,
that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received,
for good or evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only."
~ Dickens ~ Chapter Fifteen ~
Children of the Mind
The stench was nauseating. The thumbless hand grasping her throat. The feeling of the recently bloody stump of a thumb on her neck made her sick. It was a disgusting feeling that she never would wish on anyone. A feeling that she hoped she would never experience again in her life. A feeling that was all too familiar, yet entirely new at the same time.
She tried to cry out, the hand moved up, covering her mouth now, preventing any sound from escaping. Everyone just stood there, looking on. Someone had to do something. Anyone. Anything.
"Let her go!" she heard Harry's voice cry.
"That is what you would want, Harry, isn't it? Me to just let her go, so you could just go back to your little school, and live happily ever after. That's what you want, right?" He laughed. "Not until you give me what I want."
"Let her go!" he said again. "Or I'll...I'll..."
"What?" came the high reply. "You'll what? You'll kill me? Is that what Dumbledore's been telling you? That you can kill me? Dumbledore lied. No one can kill me. Isn't that right, Severus?"
She could feel the grip on her changing a bit, as the Dark Lord turned to face the Potions Master. The only thought in her mind was that one of the three people with wands in the room (not including Voldemort's which resided in Harry's left hand) should do something. She'd settle for an Accio Ginny! if that was what it took to get her out of Voldemort's grip.
"No, Harry. You can't kill me. But I can kill her. If you don't give me my wand."
A new thought formed in her mind. Quite a different thought. Don't do it Harry! Run! She realised that Voldemort, for whatever reason, couldn't just take the wand from Harry. It had to be given. And her life wasn't worth anywhere near the preciousness of that wand. If Harry could get away with it, Voldemort's power would decrease considerably. The Order could win. Harry could win. Take the wand, and run! she mentally screamed.
"Give me my wand, Harry." The other hand clenched itself around her neck. Not tightly, just as if to send a message. Somehow, she could tell that the Dark Lord's eyes were looking at Harry. No...into him. Not at him. She could feel it. Somehow. "Or I will kill her. I will kill the girl you..."
The words started to blur into each other. She couldn't tell what anyone was saying anymore. She was slipping. Either from lack of oxygen, or some other, more complicated reason. She was losing consciousness. Her head slumped. She blacked out.
Cold. Very, very cold. Freezing. Stone. Hard stone. Cold, hard stone.
Her eyes opened. Had they been closed? She couldn't remember. Something felt odd.
She looked around. No...not again...
Stone pillars towered around her. An enormous statue rose by the back wall of the chamber.
The Chamber.
The Chamber of Secrets.
How in hell...
She was back. But... she had been at the Riddle House. With Harry. And Luna. And-
And Voldemort. Tom. Riddle.
"Where are you?" she called, surprising herself. She had expected a hand to be over her mouth, even though it was an absurd thought, alone in the middle of the floor.
"Hello, Virginia," said a smooth voice from the shadows. "I've been wondering when you'd turn up."
"You sure get bored fast," she said, standing. "It's been what? Two days?"
She heard a chuckle, and then, "That was not me, Virginia."
"What the hell do you mean?" she spoke to her invisible tormentor.
"I mean as I say. That was not me."
"Then who are you?" she questioned. She was not expecting the reply that she got.
A tall, black haired boy, emerged from the shadows. She could hear his footsteps on the grimy floor. He was smiling.
"I am you, Virginia."
Another footstep, behind her. She spun around, nearly slipping on the floor to see-
Herself. More specifically, an eleven-year-old version of herself. Striding out of the shadows, with an odd walk. It would not have been odd, had it been the boy walking, it looked wrong on her.
"And you are me," said the girl, walking toward the boy. She smiled as she neared him, but it looked forced. As if someone had made a frowning face out of clay, and then decided to make it a grin. He smiled back. The both faced Ginny.
"And we are one in the same," they both said, a glint in the boy's eyes, and emptiness in the girl's.
"No," said Ginny, not believing them, even though, who else could the girl be? Lily Evans? Virginia Arden? No. That was her. Ginny. "What is this? How am I..."
"Us?" asked the girl. "How are we you?"
"Yeah," whispered Ginny. Normally, it would not have been anywhere near loud enough to hear at such a distance. But this was most definitely not normal. It was not a common occurrence, even in the wizarding world, to be talking to your younger self. It was illegal, actually.
"You created us," said the boy. "We are, as you might say, the children of your mind. We are exactly as you see yourself. Two different entities. Innocent little Ginny," he gestured to the girl, "and me. Evil. The part of yourself you hate. That torments you daily."
He laughed again. "But not nearly as much as him. When he...forgot..."
Shut up! she mentally screamed.
"No, I don't think I will..."
Her eyes widened. "You can..."
"Come on," said the girl, smiling. "It's our mind, too. Of course we know your thoughts."
Ginny tentatively stepped toward the two figures. Again. "Why am I here?" she said, walking, inch by inch. "What happened?"
The dark haired boy had a malicious look in his eye for a moment, but then Ginny was sure she'd imagined it. "You died."
"I what?"
"You died," he repeated. "From the loss of oxygen. Voldemort killed you. Because someone wouldn't save you..." He smirked.
"I...I'm dead? Then why am I here?"
"You cannot guess?" he said. "Why else? You're dead, and this is your hell."
"What?"
The girl seemed to be trying to say something, but couldn't seem to open her mouth.
"After all you did...killing the roosters...petrifying the Mudbloods...after all that, do you honestly think you'd go anywhere else? You're evil. You're in your own private hell. Not that evil is a bad thing..."
The girl, who had been struggling, forcefully tore open her mouth. "No! He's lying, Ginny," she seemed to be out of breath from the excursion, "you're not dead. This isn't hell. You're not evil." She turned on her...well, her brother, and stepped on his foot.
"Ow!"
"I hate it when you do that!" she whined. "Just let me talk!"
"You talk to much. And you spoiled my fun."
"That sure is a sick way to have fun!"
Ginny, while relieved after watching this exchange, knowing she wasn't in hell, that she wasn't dead, for the first time understood why her brothers thought her annoying. She did talk too much, sometimes, didn't she? And did she really sound like that?
"Yes," the boy said. "You do."
"Stop that!"
"Can't help it. Your mind is like a...well, like a something that is freely accessible to me."
"And such a way with words he has, too," said the girl.
"Well, I have always been able to charm the people I needed," he said, taking it as a compliment.
"You're worse than the twins," she muttered.
"No!" he said, mock-disbelievingly. "I'm only the personification of evil!"
"QUIET!" yelled Ginny. "That is really annoying."
They stopped arguing, as if she had some sort of power over them. But whatever it was, it couldn't help them from shooting nasty looks at each other.
"What am I supposed to be doing?" she asked. "How do I get back?"
"How would we know?" said the boy. "This is the first time you've dropped in. We haven't taken lessons on this, you know."
"I suppose you'll just have to wait," said the girl, considerably nicer than her brother.
"I am sick and tired of waiting," she muttered, thinking of how they had had to wait to come back to the present.
"We know."
"Urgh!"
"No, I don't mean because we know how you had to wait to get back to the present; I mean that we've just been sitting here for the past three years. Waiting. You have no idea how sick I am of 'hide and seek,'" the boy said disgustedly.
"Wanna play?" asked the girl happily.
"No, er," Ginny had no idea what to call the girl in front of her, "Ginny."
"Pity," she muttered.
"So what did happen to me?" asked Ginny. "Why am I here?"
"You blacked out," said the girl, glaring at her brother. "I'm sure that he's very worried about you."
"Who?"
"You know who," said the boy.
"What?" Ginny was horrified by the thought.
"No, calm down, Ginny," said the girl. She stepped on his foot again. "Not You-Know-Who; I meant that you knew who I was talking about."
She turned to her brother again, and raised her foot threateningly, "Stop speaking in riddles!"
"I can't," he said. "It's part of the job description."
"I wish I was an only child," muttered the girl.
"We know," said the boy, and Ginny.
Just then, something, (she would've thought it wind, had they been outdoors) knocked Ginny off her feet. She fell to the ground, and hit her head on the stone.
The boy reached down, and turned her over. Her face was blank, her eyes closed.
"Well, I guess she went back," he said regretfully. "It'll probably be awhile before she comes again."
The girl seemed to be thinking, and then said cheerfully, "Wanna play hide and seek?"
Her eyes opened; they were running. Harry, Ron, Hermione and Luna. She didn't know where the professors were. She didn't know where Voldemort was. She didn't know how she was moving...
Oh, Ron was carrying her. Like a little girl. She shook her head slightly, as if to clear her mind.
"Ron?" she said. He was looking ahead, watching where they were going. Luna was in front of them.
"Oh," he said, looking down hurriedly. "You're awake."
She looked around, and said, "How did we get out? What happened?"
He seemed to be contemplating whether or not now was the time to tell the story. Apparently, it was. "Harry. He leaned toward You-Know-Who as if to give him the wand-"
"No! I'm not worth that! Harry could win if he had that wand," she interrupted.
"He didn't give him the wand, Ginny. It looked like he wanted to, but Hermione whispered something to him. At the last second, before he gave up the wand, he summoned you, like I summoned Luna before-"
"You summoned Luna?" she asked disbelievingly. His ears turned red.
"Well, yes. But that was awhile ago. Doesn't have anything to do with this."
"Right."
"Well, he caught you, but the wand slipped out of his hand. His wand. Harry's wand. You-Know-Who took it. So Harry has You-Know-Who's wand now, and You-Know-Who has Harry's."
"But..." said Ginny. "How did we get out? Why didn't he just kill us all?"
"I dunno. Maybe he was scared to use Harry's wand? Who knows?"
"I don't think he would be. He used it before. In the Chamber."
Ron blinked. "In the Chamber?" he asked. "The Chamber of Secrets? How would you know? You were unconscious."
"Oh," she said remembering that her memory of Tom Riddle using Harry's wand was not from her own point of view. It was from Harry's. She still didn't know how that happened. "I'll explain later." She wasn't sure she actually would, but she might.
"What happened to Harry, anyway?" said Ron.
"What do you mean?" she asked worriedly.
"I mean...he just seems different now. Different than before you - you know - went back."
"Different?" she asked.
"Yeah," he was talking quieter now than before, so only she could hear. "He is insane. He was trying to convince me to let him carry you. I have no idea why. And don't you think he'd be a bit more useful with a wand? Since when has he wanted to carry you? Could he even carry you? I mean, you're small and all, but he's not much taller."
"Er...how should I know?" she said not-too-convincingly. "Speaking of carrying me, I believe that I can walk by myself."
"Oh, right." He stopped for a moment and set her down. She was a little unsteady at first, but she managed.
They were at the stairs. As they hurried up, Luna was the first to notice Ginny walking next to them.
"You're awake!" she said, which alerted Harry and Hermione to the fact. They stopped and looked around.
"Yeah," she said. "I'm awake." She paused for a moment. "Why are we just standing here?" she asked, shaking her head.
"Oh!" said Hermione, and she charged on. Harry looked at Ginny oddly, but he went on as well.
When they reached the top of the stairs, they turned left and headed for the kitchen. What they found, they were not expecting.
"It's good to see you again, Harry," said the not stuttering voice. "You too, Ginny."
"Potter," came the cold voice of the Potions Master. "I suggest you run. Now."
Cheating the Hangman Be assured, the wicked will not go unpunished,
but those who are righteous will escape. ~ Proverbs 11.21 ~ Coming Soon ~
