Difficulties of Avoidance
by dead2self
A/N: Every time I pick this fic up again I have fun. It lay dormant for a few years, every so often I'd open it and write a bit and enjoy myself, but move on to other things. I don't know where the motivation came from this time, but as always special thanks to anyone who has left a review over the past few years and reminded me that this story exists.
I've been away from fanfiction for a few years, and man the ads have gotten bad on this site. I'm thinking about posting this fic on ao3 as well for a nicer reading experience, but in any case I'll still post new chapters here. It's not much, but enjoy!
"Everyone, quiet!"
They had already moved the meeting once when it was immediately apparent that they would not make a convincing study group. Now they were crushed together in a hidden alcove, but not even the tea party that had gathered on the painting over the entrance would cover the noise of another argument.
"These ideas are all great," Demelza continued as their voices settled again. "I'll be the first to sign up for causing chaos for Snape. But we need an aim, goals. Strategy."
"Undermining Snape," Colin said.
"Making sure everyone knows the truth about You-Know-Who and Harry," Ginny added.
"The safety of the Muggle-borns," said Gregory. Beside him, Dennis nodded.
All gathered went quiet. They were an odd group, mostly Gryffindors, but a smattering of Ravenclaws who looked white-faced and out of place. One grim Hufflepuff had tucked himself in the corner and looked ready to take on the whole of Hogwarts by himself.
"The Muggle-borns are top priority," said Ginny, "and we're going to be part of helping them flee if it comes to that. But I've gotten news from the outside that Hogwarts is still the safest place for them to be. For now I think we need to keep treating curses as best we can."
"So we just keep our heads down?" said the Hufflepuff, Owen. He looked traitorous.
"No, but we need to be smart. We're not going to be any good to anyone if we're spending all our time being Cruciated in detention. I think our focus needs to be Snape. He's the source. The Slytherins are bad, but they're just the symptom. Everyone needs to know there is still someone fighting back."
"The Slytherins aren't going to stop attacking us just because we paint some graffiti on the Great Hall," protested a fifth year Gryffindor who had come with Natalie, and the argument ran full circle once more.
"Merlin, enough!" cried Gregory, throwing up his hands and earning a chorus of shushing. He gritted his teeth, but the alcove was quiet once more and Colin raised his hands against any other objections.
"Here's what we'll do then," he said. "We don't let the Slytherins get away with cursing Muggle-borns, but no duels out in the open. We do it like Natalie, gang up on them when they're alone and Obliviate them after. It's not in good taste, but I don't like how good I'm getting at casting Episkey. In the meantime, Harry's face is going up in the great hall. 'Desireable Number One,' wasn't it Demelza?"
A titter of laughter passed between all gathered and Ginny watched Colin with appreciation. The agreement came none too soon, as curfew was fast approaching. Luna slipped out first given that she was meant to be doing rounds and they left the alcove in shifts as she signaled them. Finally only the seventh year Gryffindors remained.
"We'll plan for an escape if we need to," she told Gregory. "Maybe we just all need to make it to the end of term."
"I'm not going anywhere near the Hogwarts Express," said Colin. "Remember our second year, they stopped it for Dementors to search it. I think they'd do more than search now."
They shared a collective look of dread, but there was no time for more than that. One by one they made their way back to Gryffindor Tower. And then, when the fire had burned low and the castle slept, Ginny pulled out the Marauders Map under wandlight and they went to work.
Filch was scrubbing furiously through breakfast, but Ginny still got to enjoy her meal with Harry grinning down at her. The Carrows were predictably red-faced flanking Snape as he rose to his feet to address the hall.
"Owen Cauldwell," he intoned, sighting down his beaked nose at the Hufflepuff table. "To your feet."
You could have heard a house elf dusting in the silence that fell as Owen, confused, climbed off the bench. No sooner had he gotten to his feet than Snape whipped his wand from his sleeve and hissed, "Crucio!"
Screams flew up from the Hufflepuffs as Owen dropped. Several leapt to his aid, holding him down to keep him from thrashing. Snape's lip curled as he held out the curse and the Carrows took to Stunning anyone came to Owen's aid. Ginny was half out of her seat before Colin tugged her down, and Snape released the boy. Owen lay where he had fallen.
"Did you not think," Snape snarled, "that after five years of grading your egregious essays I would not recognize your hand writ large? Detention and a hundred points from Hufflepuff, you insufferable simpleton."
"Liar," Demelza breathed as Snape resumed his seat. "You vile liar." She had been the one to write the script under Harry's face the night before. Owen had been sleeping soundly in his bed.
"He's trying to turn them against us," Colin murmured as Snape raised his voice once more.
"Leave him."
Reluctantly the Hufflepuffs reaching for Owen left him on the floor. The Carrows watched gleefully, but Ginny studied the other House.
"It isn't going to work," she whispered back, realization dawning. All down the Hufflepuff table determined lines were drawing themselves across lips and furrowed brows. And as Owen struggled to his feet under the watchful, loyal gaze of his House, Ginny knew they were going to need a bigger meeting space for the next Dumbledore's Army meeting. Snape had handed them the house.
She brought Tom porridge and pumpkin juice for breakfast, and wrinkled her nose when she entered the Room.
"Blimey, what is that?" she asked.
"Finally you notice?" Tom answered from his bed. "It's been growing for days. It smells like mold."
She had never thought of how the room stayed clean. She assumed the room had done it, but perhaps the elves cleaned in his sleep.
"Maybe I can try to ask the elves—"
"You're in control of the room," he said, exasperated. "Do something about it."
Right. Shaking her head she needed the room to smell better, and a shining silver pine bough hung itself from the ceiling, covering the odor. "Better?" she asked as he rose. He held out a hand for his breakfast.
"You'll laugh," she said as she handed the porridge to him. "I actually thought you wouldn't tell Luna."
His eyes danced over the rim of his bowl. Not merrily, but as a cat toys with a mouse. "Not a good friend to be keeping secrets."
She turned to tidying his bed, folding down the coverlet and plumping his pillow. "Not a good friend to be telling them."
"Happily, we are not friends."
"But Luna and I are; we have been for years. What did you imagine would happen, Tom? There is no blow-up fight threatening on the horizon. You've tried this already, you know it is not going to work." The words were barely out her mouth before she knew the answer. This was not an attempt at driving a wedge between his captors. No, he was proving to her that her even-small trust in him was misplaced.
She blinked, regarding him. Or perhaps proving to himself. It reeked of insecurity. The Riddle she had first encountered had used her trust against her, twisting it and using it until she was drained dry. He tried the same throughout his whole imprisonment. Why was he now throwing it away like a smoking Howler?
Riddle noted her over his pumpkin juice and she shook her head. He had probably done it to spite her, because he found it funny, and no more.
"You are the Dark Lord equivalent of a bored housewife, you realize?" She sat on his bed and pulled her knees to her chest, pretending to hold the covers up to her chin. "I bet you were just awake all night counting the hours until your dear Ginny came with breakfast and fresh scandal."
"We all have our vices."
Ginny uncurled, grinning despite herself. "That's fair. And on your very long list of vices, I suppose melodrama is the least of our worries." She tapped a finger to her chin and then added, "Although, it may have contributed to the uncanny acting ability and audacious nickname."
Tom sighed, but she sat up, suddenly caught by the idea. It was easy for her to picture Tom as a villain. She had more than enough experiences to underpin the image. And it was also easy to imagine him fooling an eleven year old girl. She had not seen a peer or a child, but a hero, a knight in shining armor. What she had difficulty imagining was Riddle in her year, in Harper's shoes, but beloved and cherished where Harper was ignored. People had seen him, talked to him, thought they had known him. Perhaps even laughed with him. No one had ever noticed that he had no real friends.
"How did you pretend for so long?" she asked, abruptly serious.
"How do you mean?"
"When you were Head Boy, when you were in school. Everyone thought you were a model student."
He peered at her, still clearly confused at this line of questioning. "I was a model student." He held out a hand, stilling her objection. "Though I suppose you aren't talking about academics. It was not difficult. It was only a matter of giving people what they wanted, and they looked no deeper."
"But you did it for years. Wasn't that exhausting?"
Sitting back, Tom was silent for a spare moment. Then he pressed his fingertips together and leaned forward. "Let me paint you a picture. You are clever, truly clever, far cleverer than any of your peers and many of your professors. In fact, you could overtake several of your professors in a duel, if challenged. You could do anything you wanted. But one sour word from Britain's last stalwart against Grindelwald, and no one will offer you a job, much less give you access to the resources you need. A little acting is hardly tiring given the alternative."
Ginny let the moment sit, astonished at his openness. It occurred to her that very few people had probably ever seen the young Riddle as uncensored as she and Luna had over the course of the year, spitting and raving. But this simple honesty, even dripping with arrogance, seemed something to treat with care.
In the pause, Riddle seemed to realize the same. Ginny saw it as though it were physical, the sudden awareness and recoil, a folding into himself, and braced for the backlash.
"It was only a temporary measure, in any case," he added. "I was myself at Hogwarts, in the Chamber, as you know." His lips curled back, but it was not the violence Ginny had expected. It was oddly personal, wrapped in threat.
"What was it like to find the Chamber? The first time?"
Sharply, he stood, hissing low and steady and hard. Ginny startled back at the sudden punctuated Parseltongue and she was eleven years old again, her heart thundering in her chest and lips moving of their own accord. She had not heard him speak it since his conversation with Harry, and before that not since her first year.
"Hey!" she snapped, leaping to her feet. He stepped toward her, a sneer twisting around the words, and she drew her wand. He stopped.
"But perhaps you had to be there," he jeered.
Ginny lowered her wand then, and smirked. "Melodrama, you see?"
He growled and turned away, returning to his breakfast. "You are insatiable." Her heart was still racing, but she crossed to him and took her seat, hoping to ignore the outburst.
"Me? You're the one who can't be happy with giggling over the wireless anymore and must stir up conflict among friends."
"Enough, leave me in peace."
"Fine, you've convinced me, I can give you one juicy piece of gossip. I dealt with that Slytherin yesterday."
"Goodness, and you're not a sniveling mess?"
"I have to thank you for the Legilimancy lesson. Handier in a duel that you'd think at first glance."
That caught him. He turned, incredulous. "Did you addle someone's mind on accident?"
"Merlin, no, just found a bit of blackmail."
His brow raised further. "Careful Weasley. You're sounding more Slytherin by the day."
"Careful, Riddle, this is approaching banter."
"You cannot even speak my language. You are the same as everyone, mundane and simple, and a blood-traitor besides. We cannot banter."
Ginny raised her hands in mock-defeat, but knew that she had unnerved him with the comment. She was on a roll.
"So if I were to cast Legilimens on someone practicing Occulmency, on you for example, what would happen?"
"You would be unsuccessful, obviously."
"No, what would I feel running up against your shields? When Burke kicked me out of his head I felt something."
"You felt nothing, your mind created that sensation to—shields?" He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Have you retained nothing we spoke of?"
"It is a shield."
"Only in its most rudimentary form. It's like calling Hogwarts' wards a pillow fort."
"Just answer my question, Riddle."
"You would see what I wanted you to see, what you expected to see when you looked. Not unlike my peers in school. You would never be sure if I were practicing Occlumency or not, and that is because true Occlumency is not a shield, but a dam, a maze, a slight of hand."
"But that's you, I'd be daft to try prying your head open. I think I'll stick with testing my limits on Slytherin bullies with embarrassing crushes."
"You're the one asking questions about my school days, the Chamber. If you want to know, all you have to do is try to take it." He turned and locked eyes with her, grinning wide.
Ginny slammed her own feelings down as she met his gaze, feeling it as a shield no matter what he said. It came like breathing now, if breathing gave you a headache behind your eyes after some moments.
"Mm…" she hummed, leaning closer and rolling her wand between her fingers. His eyes filled her vision, wide and unblinking and inviting.
It was tempting to try. She felt emboldened by her success with Burke, and that was dangerous.
"I'll pass. What about someone like me, a beginner in Occlumency? What happens when I do this?"
"You just push me out," he said. "I don't see anything, feel anything. Rudimentary and crude."
"But I'm getting better, aren't I?"
She felt it then like a needle, stabbing towards her mind, subtle and sharp. She reacted on instinct, slapping it back, and jerked away from him. She did not care at all what he said, it felt exactly like she had shoved a shield in his face. Innately she knew that it had worked.
She jumped up, beaming. "Admit it!" she crowed, pointing a finger in his face.
"Yes, yes, you have improved," he said, sitting back. "Don't you have lessons?"
"None as good as this," she answered. "Dueling tips, Protean Charms, potions quizzing, practical medical training, you're practically passing my N.E.W.T.s for me."
"And yet a sudden interest in Legilimancy."
"Honestly it would be a waste of resources to keep you prisoner all year without at least learning something from one of the all-time great Legilimens."
"You are wasting my talents if you won't even cast the spell on me. You can feign disinterest all you want, but I know you're curious."
"Of course I'm curious, but I don't care what corner of your mind you divert me to with your mazes and slight of hand, it would be nowhere good."
He raised his hands in mock defeat, not unlike her. "Your application does take points for originality, I'll give you that."
She laughed. "Do me a favor and forget I ever gave you the idea. You're terrifying enough as it is."
"No promises," he shot back, and she decided not to point out to him that this was banter of the highest order.
Luna was bright red when Ginny sat down in their first lesson together of the day. "Snape rejected my resignation," she said without preamble.
"What? I thought he'd be happy to be rid of you. Harper has been crusading for it ever since they got here."
"I told him I could not abide the Cruciatus Curse being used on students, and he said I would do well to remind my friends that detentions can be avoided by behaving properly."
The slimey git, the absolute arse. Ginny felt her blood rising, but tried to focus her attention on Luna.
"But why would he insist on your staying? He doesn't know what we're doing, but he knows Dumbledore asked us to do something."
"He had a Quibbler on his desk, where I could see it. Then when I told him I'd seen Alecto putting a Muggle-born in detention for breathing disrespectfully, he said my whole family had such inventive imaginations."
"Oh Luna," Ginny breathed. "The bastard."
"It's only a few more weeks," Luna said, her voice high and quivering. "I'm of the opinion that we should make them count. I will write the entire contents of the Quibbler on the walls during my rounds if he doesn't want Daddy writing the truth."
Ginny hushed her, casting a swift Muffliato Charm. They were mostly surrounded by Gryffindors, but it was best to be careful. Luna carried on unchecked.
"He'll be sorry he did not let me go when I asked," she said.
"I'm with you, Luna. The whole of Dumbledore's Army is with you."
"He'll be sorry," Luna repeated, and Ginny was grateful class started then, because not even a Muffliato Charm could cover the look of pure rebellion on Luna's face.
She wasn't the only one. By lunch Dennis reported that they had incoming recruits for their next meeting. A lot of new recruits.
The Hufflepuffs proved helpful in finding a meeting room that would fit the ever-expanding Dumbledore's Army. Their common room was in the dungeons near the kitchens and it turned out that the kitchens grew a small, private tea room when enough students barged in looking for a late-night snack. Taking tea past curfew was evidently a Hufflepuff rite of passage. It was not as private as the Room of Requirement, but Ginny was fairly certain Tom Riddle would dance a tango with her before the pureblood Carrows would deign to descend into the domain of house elves.
But if she expected an influx of new Mediwitches to their ranks, she was to be disappointed. The Hufflepuffs turned out more bloodthirsty than expected.
"He was the Potions master. I think he would notice if we tried to spike his pumpkin juice with a Draught of Living Death," said Demelza, incredulous.
"The Carrows don't seem bright enough to notice, two out of three's not bad," said the fifth year Hufflepuff who had suggested it. Ginny was only half-sure he'd introduced himself as Witby. It seemed like half the house had flooded to their meeting and there were only so many names she could remember. They'd even had to turn first years away.
"Do you have a Draught of Living Death handy?" asked Ginny. It wasn't the type of potion you were allowed to bottle at the end of class, and it was a N.E.W.T. level potion besides. Whitby colored, but someone else offered to brew it and somehow the ludicrous idea got written just under "Turn the Slytherin corridor to ice".
Colin flopped into the chair next to Ginny and handed her the updated Dumbledore's Army list with fresh signatures. Everyone still remembered Marietta Edgecombe with "Sneak" written across her face in blemishes, and Gregory had worked up an inventive jinx in the style of Hermione's original to keep them honest. Ginny drew a small skull, their symbol for a particularly dangerous idea, next to Whitby's suggestion, and thought the jinx probably was not necessary this time around. No one who was a coward would be in the meeting in the first place.
"These are great ideas, but I want to focus our attention more on looking out for the Muggle-born students," she said. "Has everyone who's good at Healing spells given your name to Demelza? We're all going to need lessons before the year is out."
"We could organize escorting younger Muggle-borns between classes," suggested Cadwallader, a Hufflepuff Chaser from Ginny's year. "We can defend ourselves, but no third-year has a chance against a seventh-year Slytherin."
That got them into a discussion of how to pull it off without anyone noticing, and how exactly they'd go about it with all their different class schedules. When another Hufflepuff seventh-year started drawing a glowing chart with her wand, Ginny stepped down and took a sip of butterbeer. (Why had none of their previous D.A. meetings had butterbeer? She now considered it a massive oversight.)
This was more than she could have ever imagined, more than she and Luna or even just the Gryffindors could have done on their own. She gave herself one moment to appreciate the momentum, the movement, the fact that she could step away and plans to protect students would still be made.
But there was still one thing the D.A. couldn't help her with. Luna was right. They needed to figure out how they could move Tom at the end of the month after the Leaving Feast, change of heart or not. A way that wouldn't lead to him getting taken by the Order and possibly killed for their trouble. And she needed to stop avoiding it just because it felt impossible.