A/N: I hate that it takes me three months to freaking update. How lame, right? Jeez.
I promise to try to do better. There's tons I want to write, but I won't let myself do anything else until this is finished. Plus, I kind of want to see what happens myself!
It's going to be harder to write now because my laptop died, so I have to use the family desktop which is in the Living Room of Great Distraction, and also my mother runs her business on this desktop, but I'm going to do my best.
Disclaimer: I still don't own anything that was written about in Harry Potter. All that belongs to JK Rowling. Also, please watch out for American-isims and canon mistakes, as well as possible continuity errors. Sorry for those!
Without further ado – the next chapter! Enjoy!
The rain was cold and felt more like tiny spears of ice than water on Ginny's unprotected face. It had hailed the night before, and the night before that the temperature had nearly dropped below freezing. Now that a thick fog clung to the ground, the air around her head was a bit clearer. She could see a few feet ahead of herself – just not the ground. She prayed with every step she didn't fall or come across a steep hill unexpectedly. Her face was bare and frozen and would certainly be cut in the fall.
The rest of her was covered by Muggle clothing, so she could blend in better in those little towns she had to pass through. She wore heavy hiking boots and thick wool socks, warm trousers made of some sort of soft yet durable fabric, a white tanktop covered by a dark blue Tshirt covered by one of the scarlet and gold sweaters her mother had made her, and a long winter cloak, the hood pulled over her red hair. On her hands she wore brown dragonhide gloves and strapped to her back was a brown bag filled with other clothing, minimal Wizarding money from her father's wallet, even less Muggle money from her father's collection, her wand, a cotton blanket and some food, mostly things that wouldn't spoil like dried fruit and jerky and pickled veggies. In her left hand, she carried her broom. All in all, she was ready for an adventure – though a bit ill prepared.
Ginny had nearly arrived at her destination, a little Muggle town that was rather old and run-down. She could see the lights of it not far off in the distance, and could already smell it. It smelled of pollution and tobacco and dirt. And as she approached, the buildings were awash in brown, and the road was covered in dirt and grime, and even the lighting was a brownish-yellow. There was so much of the color that it reminded her of a sepia photo her father had shown her once.
Men and women lined the streets in drab Muggle clothing, looking worn and angry. Some shouted at each other in the street, some sat holding signs asking for change, some looked around themselves constantly as though they were afraid of being followed.
Ginny almost fit in with this crowd perfectly. She kept her head low, but looked around herself, in constant fear that Harry or her father or someone would find her before her mission was completed. This was far too important. Her freedom was too important to be stopped before she'd even really begun to work for it.
It's tall, four storeys, with a rusting iron gate around it.
Tom had mostly been quiet since she'd told him her secret, and Ginny considered this a blessing. She didn't have to deal with his mocking of her, or just the sound of her voice reminding her that he knew now and causing her to blush. He barely spoke, and when he did he only gave her basic instructions – turn left, turn right, make camp, don't look that man in the eye, go to this place or that place. She followed each one unquestioningly, but what choice did she have? She didn't know where she was going or what it was she needed to retrieve. She just knew it was this city and she needed some item of his. That was all she needed to know, really. Her focus was on gaining her freedom…no matter the cost. It was probably better if she didn't know.
She walked down the streets for a while, catching the glance of some of the residents but mostly being ignored. They had their own, non-magically altered lives to lead. And so far, there was no sign of Harry or any search party.
There it is, Tom's voice pointed out. Ginny glanced around herself, and spotted the building he was talking about: A tall, brick building that was only a few redder shades away from being brown, surrounded by a tall iron gate completely covered with rust the same color as the building. The windows were covered by iron bars and boarded shut, and the gate had a chain lock wrapped around it.
"I need to go inside?" she whispered, hoping no one would hear her and think she was a crazy woman walking around talking to herself.
Don't be stupid, Ginevra. Of course you do. I'm not asking you to pick up a stone outside of the gates.
Ginny frowned, looked around again to make certain no one was watching, then took out her wand. After a quick unlocking charm, she pulled the chain away and pushed the gate open enough to slip through. She winced at the loud 'creeeak', but no one seemed to care about it. So she began up the broken stone walkway to the door.
"What are you asking me to pick up?"
He didn't respond, and she didn't expect him to.
The doors to the building were tall and made of ornate dark wood. There was a metal sign next to the door, but the words were so worn down she couldn't read them. Without much hope, Ginny tried the handle, and was pleasantly surprised when the door opened without much effort.
The inside of the building was dark, due to the wooden boards on the windows. After closing the door behind her, Ginny lifted her wand and whispered 'Lumos'. With the tip of her wand lit, she moved in around, trying to see what was in the room. At first, all she could she was layer upon layer of dust. Moving the door had caused some of the dust to spin into the air, and breathing it into her lungs caused her to cough. But when the dust cleared some, she saw that the place was filled with junk. Piles of broken tables, chipped dinnerware, old toys and moth-eaten bedding covered nearly every inch of the floor.
"…Where am I, Tom?" she asked.
It was once an orphanage, though not my orphanage. When I no longer lived at my orphanage, they sent what I'd left behind here. Shortly after, the place shut down and it was used as a place to store unwanted items.
Ginny blinked and carefully began to move forward. "I'm here to get something from your childhood?"
Yes.
"This isn't the spell you used last time, is it? When you were resurrected and needed Harry's blood?" she asked, suddenly feeling panicked. Tom could easily use this as an excuse to use her to hurt Harry. And it wasn't possible. She'd give up her chance at freedom before she would hurt Harry again.
No, it is not. This is not the same as before. A different spell is needed for a different sort of magic.
With a sigh of relief, Ginny moved forward, stepping over a broken lamp in the shape of a teddy bear. "What am I looking for, then? Harry told me you used to take toys from other children. Am I looking for one of those? A yo-yo or a ball or something?"
No. I will tell you when you find it.
Ginny sighed, looking at the vast expanse of the room, and the stairs that led to three more levels. "Any idea where I should start looking?"
Just start looking.
With another sigh, Ginny stepped over a pile of holey clothes, and accidentally stepped on an old glass Christmas ornament. With a wince, she lowered the wand so she could see better where she was going. She made her way to a paint-chipped white table that was missing half it's top, and put her brown bag on top of it. She removed the cloak and the gloves, pulled her hair up with a bit of gold ribbon, and then began to make her way to the other side of the room. Carefully, she pulled apart piles of old toys and lamps and bedding, hoping to not get cut or encounter some sort of giant rodent – or worse, some sort of magical rodent. This seemed like the sort of place an ashwinder would lay its eggs, and she didn't want to be here should they set the building on fire. Or worse – maybe a doxy would fly up and bite her. She hated doxies.
But she searched the whole first level of the house and never heard Tom's voice, so she approached the stairs and carefully began to ascend them, biting her lip at every squeak and hoping she wouldn't fall through the rotting wood.
Despite this fear, she paused halfway up the staircase. She glanced downward, then back up.
Why have you stopped looking?
"I'm in-between floors."
And?
"I'm not on the ground floor. I'm not on the first floor. I'm in-between. I'm...nowhere." Tom didn't respond to this, so she kept going. "I'm nowhere, and I'm doing nothing, and I'm no-one. Even when I finish going up these stairs, I'll still be in-between. I've always been in-between. In-between a child and a youth, a youth and an adult, not with Harry and with Harry, peace and war, together and apart. Right now I'm between being mad and being sane, between being helpless and saving myself. Between being alone and having my family again. I'm in-between everything."
There was nearly a full minute of silence, and then, Keep going.
Ginny blinked a few times to clear the tears from her eyes, and kept moving up. She knew how insane she sounded. Maybe it was the part of Tom's soul dragging her down into darkness. Or maybe everything she'd been through had just been too much.
But hopefully soon, she'd be her old, fiery self again. She missed the girl that fought back.
"What?" she asked, spinning around. She'd thought she heard a voice whispering 'so do I, but no one else was here. And it wasn't Tom...she could recognize when he spoke to her easily.
Maybe now she was hearing voice.
...Though it had started out with her hearing whispers, not his full voice. Was he...was he fading away already?
Don't be foolish. Now keep looking! Tom's voice snapped impatiently. Ginny swallowed, then reached the first storey. A glance around showed her that this room was very much like the one below, only with more clothes and bedding than anything else. She began looking through the items, occasionally having to cover her mouth with her sweater when the dust swirling through the air completely clouded it. This room took longer, since the piles of cloth piled nearly as high as her waist. But again, whatever Tom was looking for didn't seem to be in here.
On her way up this staircase, she noticed crayon marks on the wall, marking the height of each child in the 'Lion Group'. Ginny smiled at the thought of a lion being an important symbol for other children here, Muggle children with no families. It was like she suddenly felt a tie to them, to Billy the tallest, Oscar and Reece who were the same height and both preferred the green crayon, Adam who was brave enough to use pink, Jake who was only an inch taller than Leah, who was the only girl, and poor little Harry who was significantly smaller than the rest of them. Harry.
Now she felt a pang in her heart for Harry, and she closed her eyes and shook her head, and continued her way up the stairs.
"You know..." she said, as a thought occurred to her. "You and Harry are distantly related."
There was no response.
With a bit of a smirk (a bit of her old self!), she continued. "You are. Through the Peverells, did you know? He's related to Ignotus, you're related to Cadmus. I don't think you're even considered distant cousins, but you do have some of the same blood."
Focus on the task at hand, Ginevra. She could almost hear the sigh in her voice. With a giggle – which sounded a little crazy to her own ears – she reached the second storey. This room seemed, perhaps, a bit more promising. There were old bedframes, mountains of old toys, more clothing and little arts-and-crafts projects, like a pasta necklace, a half-finished cross-stitched pillow, tie-dyed shirts, a wooden train –
There.
"There?" Ginny repeated, and she took a few steps towards the roughly-built train, painted green with hints that the wheels and edges of windows had once been silver.
That train is mine. Take it quickly so we can collect the next item.
He was impatient, but then, so was she. Carefully, she stepped over the other items and picked up the train. She half-expected it to fall apart once she lifted it off the ground, but it stayed together. She brushed dust off of it, was saw a faded 'S', 'Y', 'R' and 'N' painted on the side of it.
"...You made a toy Slytherin train?" she said, and almost laughed at the image of a thirteen-year-old Dark Lord painting a train the colors of his favorite House.
I had no choice but to participate in the crafts class. I did what I could to remain dignified. Now – leave this building!
Ginny bit her lip to stop from smiling – maybe she was completely mad now! – and held the train under her arm, switched the wand from one hand to the other, and headed back down the stairs, ready to get the next item and be done with this in-between-ness.
Ginny carried her bag in her arms now, keeping the train safe as she walked the mile from King's Cross to her new location. She knew exactly where this one was, and she had an idea of what it was that Tom Riddle wanted.
The houses along the street she walked grew gradually shabbier and shabbier, from nicely-cut bushes to over-grown shrubbery, from clear windows to brown ones, from well-painted white or grey houses to ones with chipped, ugly bright paint. The smell of trash began to fill the air as piles of it appeared outside of most houses.
Finally, Ginny reached her destination – the small, green Grimmauld Square. And over there, by where two men in long coats stood under a streetlamp was what most Muggles would assume was a mistake: Number 11 Grimmauld Place sitting next to Number 13 Grimmauld place.
But looking carefully, Ginny could see number 12. It was Sirius's old house, where Harry currently lived. She would have to be careful here. Harry could easily be inside. She just hoped – and felt guilty for hoping this – he was at her house, too worried about her to be anywhere else.
Slowly, Ginny began approaching the house, searching the windows for a sign of life. But one of the men under the streetlamp strolled up to her, an alarmingly charming smile on his face.
"'ey there, missy. Yer not Miss Weasley, by any chance?"
Ginny wasn't sure how to answer the question, partially because she couldn't decipher the correct answer from the odd accent and grammar, but mostly because she knew she couldn't tell the truth.
"I-I don't..." she stammered. Damn. She was usually such a good actress.
"That's her, Bobby," answered the other man, approaching quickly. "I recognize her."
But she didn't recognize this man, who was tall and broad-shouldered with long, pale brown hair.
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," she responded. "I'm...Amanda. Amanda Greene."
"Nice try, Miss Weasley. I was in your year at Hogwarts. I was in Ravenclaw. We had tons of classes together. You were quite the heart-breaker," said the man, grinning. "I'm Steven Harker. Your family has been very worried about you, Miss Weasley."
She swallowed, her panicked eyes darting from Harker to Bobby and back again. She took a step away from them.
"I know, I just talked to them earlier, we agreed I should stay at Harry's-"
"Now, don' try an' lie to us, Miss Weasley," said Bobby in his unrecognizable accent. "We're 'ere to 'elp you."
Ginny held her breath.
Robert took a slow, cautious step forward. "We're from St. Mungo's."
St. Mungo's!
She took another step back.
Bobby glanced at Harker and muttered something out of the corner of his mouth. Something like 'she's going to run'.
Which wasn't far from the truth, at all.
They're going to lock you up, Ginny! Run!
She threw the bag at the ground to slow them, and turned and began to run. She reached for her wand in her robes, hoping to curse them some way she could get the bag back, get in and out of the house and get away before they could catch her, but she gasped when her fingers closed around empty air. She glanced back, only to see Harker holding her wand. He'd gotten it from her without her noticing! Wandless magic, perhaps?
There was a 'pop' sound ahead of her, and Bobby was there, wrapping his massive arms around her middle.
"No!" she screamed. "No, you have to let me go, you have to let me go, you have to let me get my freedom from him!"
"She's hysterical," breathed Harker behind her.
"I HAVE TO BE FREE!" she screamed, her throat already feeling raw. "He'll never let me go, I have to do this, I have to do this, I have to get rid of him or I'll never be sane again!"
"D'yeh think we should-?"
Ginny struggled against Bobby's grip. "I'll be crazy forever, please, please, you can't let this happen, you can't let this happen."
"I'll do it," said Harker, and she heard him retrieve something from his robes.
"NO! NO! I HAVE TO GET SOMETHING! HE'LL NEVER LEAVE ME ALONE, I'LL BE TRAPPED FOREVER, PLEASE," she screamed, her head throbbing from the noise, her throat hurting from the effort. She felt dizzy and her cheeks were wet with her violent sobs. "I CAN'T LIVE LIKE THIS, please, please, if you can't let me get the item, just kill me, just kill me, please, I can't do thi-"
She heard a spell muttered, and everything went dark.
Artificial: Please review, lovely people!