Blind panic ensued. The magic that Ginny had grown up with was forgotten in the terror of the moment. She heard footsteps behind her. Please. He's just an apparition, a ghost, a giant spider. Anything.

Ginny was flat-out sprinting when the hem of her robe and gravity decided to disagree with her simultaneously. The hem ripped, and Ginny tumbled. She caught herself, but Tom was there even as she was scrambling to a semi-upright position.

Using his advantages of height, weight, and horrifyingly close links to Voldemort, Tom trapped her against the stairs. Faced with something she could physically fight, she struggled. Tom barely seemed to notice but was apparently aware enough of her actions to stop her hands before they reached his face.

He took her wrists in his hands, and Ginny continued her useless fight. He calmly placed both wrists in one hand and reached to her robe. From its inner pocket, he withdrew her wand – her forgotten defense.

"Not this time, Ginny." He spoke calmly, just as he always had and probably always would. She renewed her struggle with new degrees of ferocity.

"Stupefy."

She couldn't move. She couldn't see. She couldn't hear – or was he just not making any noise? Ginny was helpless in the hands of her childhood savior and tormentor. The one who abused and mystified her. No good could come of this.

Tom himself felt that this was the best position he'd been in in years. He was in Hogwarts, and no one suspected his presence. He was in a secret passageway that could only be opened by those with the blood of Salazar Slytherin running through their veins. And, he had a now complacent – although unwillingly complacent – Ginny in his arms. It had been only too easy to call her mind to that spot and use his excellent timing to open the passage door. Unfortunately, one of his perfect quartet was about to be ruined.

"Enervate."

Ginny felt the arms holding her and knew that it hadn't just been a horrible dream as she had hoped. She struck blindly with her fist in the direction she was sure Tom's face was. Rather anticlimactically, her hand hit nothing but air.

She opened her eyes and decided that she just couldn't aim when she was frightened out of her wits. With her new vision of Tom's face disturbingly real and close, she began her attacks where they had left off.

"You have three choices as I see it." Well, choices were better than she had expected. Therefore, it followed that she could expect none of the choices to be to her liking. "You may stop this useless assault on your own, I can use a spell to weaken you, or I can tie you up." She had been right to expect his old demeanor and some of his old manners. How pleasant reunions with old pals could be.

"How about you put me down!" She shrieked, pounding him with her fists.

"Fine." He stopped walking down the stairs and set her on her feet a step above him. Ginny, not about to question her amazingly unrealistic luck, took one step and grimly understood Tom's willingness as her ankle gave out beneath her.

How he could have known about her injury even before she did was a mystery, but what power did Tom Riddle have except for that of mystery, charm, and brilliant tricks?

She took her second fall in five minutes, but this time, she was caught. He supported her – or held her struggling body in place, depending upon whose viewpoint you trust – with one arm and pulled out her wand with the other.

He sighed. "I did give you a fair chance. Incarcerous." The spell was one that Ginny could guess the meaning of, considering the obviously Latin roots. Ropes shot out of his wand, and Ginny realized that she had been all too correct.

She was now restrained. Conscious, but restrained. "Things would have been easier if you had just relaxed." Ginny turned from him as much as she physically could while she was confined by ropes and being carried down the stairs by him.

Silence prevailed on the trip down the surprisingly numerous steps that she had covered. A sort of triumph entered her thoughts at her ability to outrun Tom for so long, despite all of his advantages. At the end of the stairs, he didn't hesitate as he turned toward the door.

He vaguely – only Tom could do this vaguely – kicked the door, and it opened, looking almost frightened (yes, the door looked frightened).

Through the door was a room full of obsidian and glass. Not particularly comfortable, but very fitting. Everything was solid, nothing vulnerable. Even the chairs around the glass table seemed to be of obsidian, but that was probably a trick of the light. There were two doors: one on the left, and one on the right. The left-side door was black oak. The other was more interesting. It looked like silver wood with grains of gold running through it every once in a while. Tom moved toward the right.

He was much gentler with this door, actually making an effort to use the doorknob. He stooped slightly, turned the knob, and pushed.

The room inside reflected somewhat of what the door had – a Slytherin attempting to appease a Gryffindor. There was a green carpet and a black leather couch, but there was also a nice fire and gold pillows. There were two leather armchairs as well, but they made no conciliatory efforts. Beyond the farthest chair, Ginny was mysteriously blind.

Tom carefully laid her down and moved gracefully to the chair away from the fire to take a seat. Now, it was hard to see his face, and thus his expressions, without craning her neck uncomfortably.

"I have been watching you."

A wonderful icebreaker. I wonder how long it took him to come up with such a snappy conversation-starter. Ginny shivered in fear, wondering where and when exactly that meant, but a somewhat hopeful doubt invaded her brain. "You died in my First Year, right after you tried to kill me." She spat out the last bit with all the bitterness that only betrayal can create.

"Both statements are true, but you should know that I am not one to be easily deterred by death. I am not exactly the Tom that tried to kill you."

"Who are you?"

"Are you sure that you want to know?" His apparent placidity was frustrating.

Ginny was silent, and he took that for a negative answer.

"Why are you scared of me?" She couldn't see his face, but his voice was contemplative.

Ginny stared at him (as well as she could) for a minute. Tom was not in the habit of asking her stupid questions. In fact, she usually remembered him knowing a little too much about her emotions without any information at all. "I'm scared of you," she said relatively calmly "because you tried to kill me, you tried to kill my friends, and you are currently attempting to take over the world."

Tom lifted a finger, obviously about to deny some part of her accusations. "I'm trying to take over the world? Since when? I think that this is a case of mistaken identity. I am not Voldemort. He is my future self, but I will never become him."

"Wasn't it you who told me that the best way to lie was to say something that was realistic and easily plausible?"

"Yes, but perhaps I neglected to mention the phenomenon known as telling the truth. Truth is infinitely less likely than lies. Since I know how to properly lie, and I'm telling you something that seems like a lie, doesn't it follow that I'm telling the truth?"

That confusing logic was a little much for Ginny to follow very quickly in her confused state, but she soon found an argument that was sufficient. "Yes, I suppose that that would seem logical, which makes it even more likely that you are lying to me because you know that I know that you know how to lie." This particular spiel seemed like it should be accompanied with some sort of hand movement, but she was still tied by his stupid spell.

"Your logic hasn't changed, I see."

"Would you ever want it to?" A slight pause ensued. Then, he spoke once more, apparently not giving up his former topic.

"Since you are still scared of me, I suppose that means that you still think of me constantly, as you once did." He appeared thoughtful, but that could easily be a trick of the senses.

"I'm afraid that my therapist keeps bringing you up as the root of all my problems."

"Ah, sarcasm. I thought that we had cured you of that habit."

"It's not a habit so much as a lifestyle. And after all the crap that you put me through, how do you know that I don't have a therapist and that you aren't the root of all my problems?" She was still distressed and she wasn't about to let this astonishingly civil conversation ruin that anytime soon.

"You are circling. I came here to talk. Not listen to you chase your proverbial tail." He actually looked rather more serious than she could ever remember seeing him look. It actually seemed possible that he might not be lying, but the chances were still slim. "I told you that I have been watching you. You should not be there. It's hostile."

"You? You, of all people, complain to me about hostile environments?"

"I am not an angel. I never claimed to be. Those people do not understand you. I was not hostile to you. I can give you more than they ever could. I am willing to do that." This met with a shocked silence that Tom seemingly took as some sort of approval or compliance. "So it is settled. You will stay here." As he said this, he waved his hand and the ropes disappeared.

"I would rather take my hostility to my face than to my back. Stay away from me." Taking advantage of her newfound freedom of limb, Ginny quickly jumped up and grabbed her wand where it was sitting on the arm of the couch.

Tom made no move to stop her. Not even when she ran to the door. His motive – or lack of motive, as the case may be – was explained with the simple refusal of the door to budge. "It will not obey you."

"It's a door! You turn the doorknob! It's not difficult!" Her voice rose with each sentence as tears of frustration began to burn in her eyes. She slumped against the door, huddling protectively in a corner that was all her own.

There were no other exits. No trap doors. This place belonged to Tom and Tom alone. She couldn't even open a stupid door without his help. The only place that was hers was the small place that she controlled, and at the moment, that was just her one lonely corner next to the door.

Tom knelt in front of her, but she refused to acknowledge him. He pulled her forward and seemed ready to attempt to comfort her in some way, but Ginny was angry at him, and she knew it. She pushed him away and fled to a different corner.

Still facing towards the corner where she had been not a minute ago, he calmly said "Ginny, You will not return to them. I can help you avoid their apathy, their malice. I am offering you a chance at escape." With that, he left the room and allowed her the solitude that she had sought at the beginning of the night.

Hermione found the boys sitting in front of the fire playing wizard's chess. It appeared that Harry might have gotten even worse... She quickly told them of her discovery and Ron ripped the map out of her hands, disbelievingly. For several minutes, he stared at it, trying to locate her neatly written name in some remote but documented place in the castle. She was not to be found. Ron was... upset... Vehemently upset...