Free at Last - Chapter 4
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ooo – Meant to Be - ooo
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Now what? Ginny wondered. She had no uniform, no room, no friends, no teachers to recognize her. AHA! Dumbledore. Fifty years ago, Dumbledore was a Transfiguration professor at Hogwarts, if Ginny's memory served her correctly. Now all she had to do was find him...
Ginny made her way up the Grand Staircase to the First Floor Corridor. It wasn't exactly the place she remembered – the domain of Professor McGonagall, always neat, quiet, and empty. In this place, the corridor was also lined with bookshelves, each crammed with books and curious artifacts. Even the portraits on these walls looked happier than they would in the future. Ginny raised her hand to knock on the Transfiguration classroom door, when she heard a voice from inside.
"Headmaster, I do warn you. He is much more powerful than he lets us know." It was unmistakably Dumbledore's voice, stronger and clearer in his youth.
"And we are honored to house such a brilliant student here at Hogwarts," said the Headmaster. Dippet, Ginny remembered. "He will be Head Boy for sure."
"Headmaster, if I could just –"
Dippet didn't seem to hear him. "And I'm sure he will be a man of great importance one day." Dumbledore sighed.
Ginny heard footsteps toward the door. "We shall talk later, Albus. Must be off." Ginny moved aside as Headmaster Dippet opened the door and walked away.
Dumbledore spotted her. "Did you need something, Miss?"
"Yes, actually," said Ginny. She closed the Transfiguration classroom door behind her as she walked inside.
Professor Dumbledore had been a handsome man, Ginny noticed. His hair was the same rust color as Lupin's, flecked with gray. His beard and hair were shorter. His crystalline eyes twinkled with a youthful brightness behind half-moon spectacles and were absent of the weariness that Ginny usually saw in them.
He beckoned for her to sit down at one of the desks.
"How may I help you Miss…"
"Ginny Weasley."
"Miss Weasley – are you…" He frowned suddenly. "Just a moment." He rummaged through some papers on his desk and pulled one out. "Ginerva Weasley? Gryffindor? Hogwarts graduating class of 1999?"
"Yes," Ginny said, raising an eyebrow. "How did you…?"
"A letter from the Ministry of Magic of the future," he said, holding it out to her. "I thought it was a joke. It says you were transported here from the future. Is this true?"
Ginny sighed. "Unless this is one giant prank on me, then yes."
"It also says that you have a purpose here, and to stay until it is accomplished. What do you make of that?"
Ginny shook her head. "No idea… Unless I'm supposed to prevent You-Know-Who from –"
"You-Know-Who?"
Ginny laughed. "I suppose you don't know who, do you? In the future, there's a wizard who –"
"No! Don't speak," said Professor Dumbledore, holding up a hand to silence her. "You cannot speak of the future."
Ginny frowned. "So I'm supposed to stay?"
Dumbledore waved the letter at her. "Take the letter. See what you make of it. If you need help with anything, just come to me again, Miss Weasley."
A few lines of the letter echoed in Ginny's mind.
…Ginerva Weasley was transported back in time by advanced Restricted Magic. A Time Transport Spell was produced by an unregistered wand at 11:07 PM… Do not allow Ginerva to leave until her purpose has been fulfilled. She will know…
Know? KNOW WHAT?
Time Transport Spell… that meant it hadn't been her Time Turner that transported her. That makes sense, she thought. I would have to turn it about four hundred and forty thousand times to go back this far. Then what would have done it?
Think, Ginny think, she thought. And it hit her.
Draco.
It was him who did this.
(Flashback)
"I wish you the best of luck tomorrow, Weasley," said Draco.
"For what?"
"Oh, you'll see. It'll be fun."
(End Flashback)
Was it for the Death Eaters, or for his own personal amusement? It sent chills down her spine to think Draco – or any other source of pure evil – had crept into her room while she was asleep… Ugh.
Who would have known Draco to know such advanced magic? Draco wasn't a bad student, she knew. He was often the source of many of Slytherin's house points. And now he was a prefect – Dumbledore had (for some reason) forgiven him for allying with Professor Umbridge the previous year.
Maybe I should get information on Voldemort for the Order, Ginny thought. Then I can go back to Hogwarts and give them anything I found. But what would he plan fifty years in advance? Maybe there's some background – some weakness – that I can find. Hell, I don't know what I'm doing…
She knew one thing, though: the first step was to befriend Lord Voldemort.
After sneaking into the laundry and stealing some spare, clean Slytherin robes, Ginny walked up and down the Grand Staircase, looking around for any sign of Tom Riddle. She, at last, walked into the Entrance Hall and saw him walking into the Dungeon area.
There he is. Just go up to him.
Ginny walked across the Entrance Hall, toward the Dungeons. She went down the stairs. The air grew chill around her as she walked into the dark corridor. No wonder the Slytherins are so grumpy, she thought. It's bloody freezing down here.
She caught up to him while he was standing in front of a dungeon wall. "Modus mundi," Tom muttered, and the wall slid aside to reveal the Slytherin Common Room. Ginny tucked these words into her memory and tried to suppress her awe as she followed Tom into the room. She immediately noticed the low stone ceiling and the dank, cave-like feel of the chamber. The only things to marvel at were the intricate tapestries that hung on the windowless walls.
Without turning, Tom stopped. Ginny heard him exhale sharply. "Come to torment me, have you?"
Ginny drew a deep breath and took the plunge.
"To apologize," she said. Tom set his book bag on the floor and sat in one of the high-backed leather chairs, facing Ginny. She lowered her eyes. "What I said was low, and I'm sorry… I just – you caught me off-guard."
Ginny could feel Tom's scrutinizing glare and decided not to meet it. "Sit," he said, more of a command than a request. Like a dog, she obeyed; she sat in a chair facing him. There was a small ebony table between them, on which sat a chessboard.
"You like wizard chess?" he asked. She took this as an 'apology accepted'… maybe. Ginny shrugged and loosened her tie.
"Sometimes," she said. Not against Ron, she added in her mind. "Do you?"
"Of course I do," said Tom. "It's the game of kings and geniuses."
Ginny smirked. "Fancy yourself a genius, Mr. Riddle?"
"A king," he replied, his eyes glittering. He waved his hand and the chess pieces moved into position. "And you may call me Tom."
With an internal sigh, Ginny forced a smile. "You may call me Ginny."
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A/N: Review or I'll lock you in a room with Umbridge and a blast-ended skrewt.