A/N: I was sick for well over a month, so this chapter is much later than intended. I also have a lot of…things, coming up in April, so I'm not sure when the next one is coming. But I'm working on it, I promise.

Speaking of working on it, right now I have to figure out the details of what happens after this chapter, and I'm having some difficulty. So I thought I'd let you guys know that there are two ways I could go: The ending could be a bit rushed but self-contained and the story complete, or I could leave this one to end on a bit of an unsatisfactory note, but write a short companion fic to really give it a solid ending. I don't know if I can write this one the way I could a separate story. So…well, that's what I'm thinking about. Let me know what you prefer?

Disclaimers: I do not own Harry Potter (J.K. Rowling), The Lady of Shalott (Tennyson) or the quote I used at the start, which has it's own credit.

I'd like to thank tumblr blog hp-picspams for their lovely review and fantastic graphics for Shadows. They were truly inspiring, and the main reason I got this finished!

Well, read, enjoy (I hope), and please review.

Too late for the sinner to be saved; your heart is the mystery I craved.

– Odi et Amo, Elizaveta

Breathing in was a struggle, and the sound of her exhale echoed in her ears like a roaring wind. It took a few deep breaths for her to realize that she was awake to hear them, and a few more to realize that meant she had been asleep. She didn't remember falling asleep. The last thing she could recall was Tom agreeing with her, that he was trapped in a room with no doors, and then…she was just breathing. Her vision was blurry, but she knew she was in her room.

Somehow, by some miracle, she had fallen asleep. Naturally? She thought so, but then maybe to help her, Láska had drugged her tea with a sleeping draught. Whatever had caused it, she was grateful. She felt a little stronger now. Not nearly as strong as she had been even a few weeks ago, but stronger. She sat up, and as she slipped out of the bed she realized just how thin she'd become. Her limbs were small and frail, and her body felt light as she stood.

Ginny wondered how close to death she was now.

Another thing she wondered, as her breaths continued to fight her, was about the blanket that Tom had wrapped around her when they'd returned from Láska's. If Tom had really given up on his plan to force her to love him, why did he bother?

Could it be true? Could he really be capable of empathy now? A Tom Riddle that felt for others seemed like an impossible thing, but then, so did a world with no Harry Potter, and she was living in it already. Maybe Tom was capable of compassion now; he had shown sympathy when he comforted her after Harry died, albeit cold and distantly so. If this was true…if this was true, maybe he would have pity and let her go to her family. Wherever it was her family was. Maybe, just maybe…she had a chance at life.

Her thoughts were coming in a strange, jumbled mess. But wasn't that part of sleep deprivation?

How long had she been asleep?

With a deep breath, she stepped over the sleeping Shikoba and opened the little wardrobe in her room. She pulled out a warm black jumper, and her favorite black skirt. She preferred the skirts to the pants, as they felt more like robes. Why Tom still hadn't purchased robes for them was a question she didn't have the energy to pursue.

She dressed, put on a pair of shoes to protect her feet from the cold floor, and headed into the sitting area. It was empty, but she expected that. Tom was usually gone by seven and it was – it was – well, she wasn't sure what time. But she could see out the window that the sun was high in the sky, shining down on the grey city of Paris, a thin layer of ice covering everything she saw. Still, it was a beautiful city made of old buildings that looked like works of art themselves. And the Basilique was so pretty to look at. Ginny took for a moment, admiring the city for the first time. If only she could actually be in it, to look at all those buildings up close and to see what was inside, to go up to Sacré-Coeur, the Basilique that looked a little like a gorgeous white pastry from where she stood, to meet Parisians and tourists and…

She hadn't realized until that moment how much she missed people, not just specific ones but being surrounded by strangers with their own lives and acquaintances who smiled at her and friends who laughed with her. She needed social contact, to overhear bits of conversation, to feel the energy of a crowded shop and to breathe the same air as other people. How had she gone so long without that basic human need?

With a sigh, she stepped away from the window and went into the kitchen. For the first time, the tea kettle was cold, but this was also the first time she hadn't been up before the sun. Tom was long gone by now.

Ginny poured herself some tea, hoping it would somehow help her throbbing head, which she pressed against the cool granite counter as she waited for the water to heat. Once it was warm enough, she poured it over the tea and waited long enough for it to be fairly strong, and then picked up the cup and went into the dining room. She set the cup down on the table and was about to take a seat when she heard ragged breaths that did not come from her.

Pausing, she slowed her breath until she could hear the other breaths easier. A foolish hope seized her heart – Harry, in the Invisibility Cloak! Impossible – but she forced herself to focus on the location. Ginny spun in a slow circle, looking for the cause of the breaths, half terrified and half ecstatic at the idea that it might be an intruder, but she found nothing. There was no sign of anyone, and yet the breathing continued.

It wasn't until she nearly gave up that she realized the breaths were coming from underneath the dining table. Frowning, she knelt down to look underneath.

Tom Riddle, hair matted, skin pale, wearing the same clothes he had worn yesterday, was curled up beneath the table, his hands like claws digging into the floor. His eyes were closed tight and his breathing was strained, and he groaned quietly at first, and then again, louder.

"Tom?" she whispered. His eyes opened, revealing them to be bloodshot. He looked at her, groaned again, and pulled his legs in closer to his chest while his shoulders shook. She recognized this look; it was a look she knew well. Tom was repressing sobs.

Tom Riddle was repressing sobs.

"Tom?" she murmured, shock filling her limbs. She heard a rushing noise in her ears, this time caused by alarm instead of her exhale. What in the world had happened? To see Tom hiding beneath a table fighting tears was indescribably strange and harrowing. Cold, heartless Tom that had driven her mad, had essentially killed her, had kept her from her family and had at the very least attempted the murder of Hogwarts students during his time as a memory…was trying very hard not to cry.

The cause of these tears was what really terrified her. What could make Tom Riddle cry, hiding in a small space like a child? What horror was in their midst?

She didn't want to find out, didn't want the burden of that knowledge, but she knew she couldn't avoid it. "Tom…" she began breathlessly, and collapsed to the floor when her body lost the strength to hold her up. Her head was across from his. "Tom, what happened?"

Tom's eyes narrowed on hers and a sound like a whine escaped his throat, and he shook his head. Then he attempted to speak, though his voice game out strangled. "Ginev-" he seemed to lose his breath, and he paused to gasp for air. "Ginny."

Her knees were aching in her half-kneeling, half-collapsed position, and she adjusted to lay on her stomach on the cold wood floor. "What happened?" she repeated, then buried her face in her arms as she yawned. No matter how long she slept, she was always tired. And she could barely feel the chill in the air due to the chill in her body.

When she didn't hear a reply, she turned her head and watched as tears built in his dark eyes, and slowly they spilled over and his whole body shook to contain the sobs she could see building. The look in them was of pure agony. He moved his hand forward slowly across the smooth surface of the floor, and it shook with every inch. He seemed to be in too much pain to be able to move it much further than a few inches. "Please," he gasped. "Please take my hand."

Her glance lowered to his hand, and she looked at it like an alien thing. It continued to shake as she watched, and she swallowed and shook her head, feeling the floor beneath her cheek.

Tom whimpered and attempted to reach out further. "Just a touch…" he whispered harshly, attempting to demand it, but in actuality beseeching. "Please. Remember when we were friends, Ginny? So long ago…so long ago, but we were. You loved me. Please, take my hand…"

"No," Ginny replied, though tears began to build in her eyes. She thought perhaps they might be tears of confusion and fear, after all, she didn't know what was happening, didn't understand this sudden, drastic change in Tom. But really, they may be tears of sympathy. Tom whined and buried his head in the floor, harsh sobs finally escaping him, but Ginny couldn't touch him. She couldn't bring herself to comfort the man who had likely killed her, couldn't hold her murderer's hand while he cried.

Still, she felt that just her presence comforted him, so she stayed and watched as he cried wordlessly, shaking from head to toe. Ginny waited for an answer, for some explanation to be given. What was happening? But he gave her none.

They may have stayed there for hours, had the front door not opened and shut.

Tom gasped for air, blinking at Ginny as concerned lines appeared in her forehead. Ginny whispered 'whats that?' and Tom motioned with a finger to his lips for her to be quiet. He seemed to be gaining control of himself slowly, and Ginny had to move out of the way as he pulled himself out from under the table. He knelt and pulled a white handkerchief from his pocket, wiped his face, and then stood and went into the kitchen. She heard water running, and whoever had walked into the house must have, too, because she heard footsteps approaching quickly. Ginny stood and moved into the kitchen in time to see Tom drying his face with a dish towel as a tall man with a silver-streaked chocolate goatee walked in.

Ginny drew in a sharp breath. Hades.

"You son of a bitch!" she cried out, launching herself towards him. Hades pulled out his wand, but didn't have time to point before Tom got in her way, taking her by the shoulders and shoving her back.

"This isn't your fight, Ginny," he muttered, pushing her back as she charged forward again.

"The hell it isn't!" she cried, trying desperately to get around Tom to Hades and his horrible, horrible smirking face. "He murdered Harry, he burned my home to the ground! I'm going to rip his throat out!"

"No, you are not," sighed Tom. "You are going to calm down, or I-"

"I'll quiet her down for you," laughed Hades, raising his wand.

Tom turned. "No! Both of you be SILENT!" he shouted louder than Ginny had ever heard him. This outburst seemed to take a lot out of him, and his legs began to shake. He gripped the kitchen counter in order to stay upright, and looked from Ginny to Hades, daring either of them to be the first to speak. Neither did so. Though Ginny was trembling with rage, she knew she didn't stand a chance against Hades. He was armed, and she was dying.

"Now," breathed Tom, looking to Hades, "What are you doing here, Hades? How did you track us down?"

"Using muggle money leaves a trail," said Hades, lowering his wand finally. "And I'm here to talk to you, Dark Lord. I…I believe you have made a grave mistake."

"What mistake is that?"

"Her," Hades said. Ginny felt goosebumps on her skin as he used his wand to point at her, and she hoped he wouldn't try anything with Tom right there with them. "She's clearly not worthy enough to love you. Why are you wasting all your time on her, when there are many old Death Eaters out there that would be happy to give you the power of their love?"

"I have chosen Ginevra."

"Who is unworthy of you!" shouted Hades, and it seemed to Ginny that he grew taller. "She clearly doesn't know the gift you've given her, and this plan will never work with her. Try someone else!"

"You have grown disobedient," spat Tom.

"And you have grown weak!"

Tom stood straight, taking out his wand. "Do not ever speak to me in such a manner," he said, his voice dark and low. "I am your Lord. And you have disobeyed my orders and acted on your own time and again. You attempted to kill Ginny before I could gain my own body-"

"I could not have known," said Hades, the beginning of each of his words sharp. "that you lived in her head."

"-and you killed Harry Potter and burned the Weasley home to ashes."

Hades made a derisive sound as he leaned against the pale counter of the kitchen, playing with his wand by twirling it around his fingers. "So mudblood lovers lost their home – who cares? It's unfortunate they weren't inside," said Hades, and then added in a humbler tone, "As for the Potter boy, I am sorry I took that honor from you, my Lord. I ought to have known better."

"It wasn't for the honor I wanted him alive!"

Hades stopped his movements, looking at Tom with large eyes and a dangerous expression. "Why, then? Why did you want him to live?"

Tom turned his back on Hades, walking towards Ginny. With his eyes, he motioned for Ginny to step into the dining room, and hesitantly, she did so.

"I needed him alive for my plans to succeed, and you destroyed my plans as well as you destroyed Harry Potter…and now you have destroyed me."

"What are you going on about?"

She could see just a part of Tom, but it was enough that she could see him spin around to face Hades. "It does not matter any more! All that matters is that you have proven yourself disloyal to me, and I will not stand for it any longer! Avad…" and the words were suddenly choked in his throat. He did not speak, though Ginny heard movement she was sure meant that Hades was raising his wand. Tom turned and ran into the dining area, almost straight into Ginny. His eyes were wide and she swore she saw panic in them, and he pushed something cold and smooth into her hands.

She looked down and saw, with shock, Tom's wand.

"I'm too weak, Ginny," he said quickly. "I can't protect you, you must do it yourself. You have to be strong now."

Ginny's eyes widened as he pulled her back behind the wall, to a covered part of the room that Hades couldn't see them from as he walked into the room.

"You know, my Lord," spat Hades, as he walked into the dining area. "I think it probably would have been better if you had remained dead."

Ginny was shaking, and closed her eyes tight and swallowed hard in an attempt to steady her nerves. It had been such a long time since she'd been in a proper duel, and the last time hadn't gone very well. She could still feel the ache in her chest when she realized she wasn't strong enough to defeat Bellatrix, still feel the horror at the idea that she'd leave her mother with a second dead child, still see the blur of her mother stepping in, still hear those shocking words her mother had shouted before killing Bellatrix. Ginny, technically, had lost her last battle with a Death Eater, and she had been so much stronger then. What hope did she have now?

Her heart pounded in her chest so loudly she could hear it in her ears, so loudly she almost missed Tom whispering, "What are you waiting for? He's getting closer. Fight him!"

Ginny drew a deep breath as she heard Hades draw closer. She was panicking; she didn't know what to do, where to begin, how to fight anymore. She needed more time, time she didn't have. How could she gain time?

Her eyes widened as she realized exactly what she needed to do, and she raised the wand and spun around the corner. "Impedimenta!" she cried, and suddenly Hades slowed to a near stop. She could see his eyes narrow as he attempted to fight off the spell. She'd only bought herself a few seconds, but they were precious seconds.

She grabbed Tom's hand, and ran past Hades, through the kitchen and into the sitting room. She heard footsteps behind them, and both Tom and Ginny fell to the dark wood floor as Hades shouted 'Relashio!'. The room was filled with fiery sparks akin to fireworks, and the smaller of the sparks reached them on the floor, burning into their clothes and heating their skin. Tom made a strangled noise; Ginny cried out, but forced herself to her feet. She thought about Harry, and his battles, and she knew what she had to do.

Ginny couldn't defeat Hades. But she could disarm him.

"Expelliarmus!" she cried, and reached out to catch Hades' wand before she realized he had used Protego, causing the spell to bounce off of him. She took a deep breath to try again, but Hades was quicker than she was.

"Expulso!" he shouted. Ginny spun out of the way, and the mirror behind her exploded instead of her head. Shards of glass flew around the room, piercing her shoulder and cutting her arms, but she was lucky enough to avoid an injury to the neck or head.

Bleeding, she lifted her wand arm, but she was unsure of what spell to try next. Hades was again faster than she was, and she knew the spell he was going to cast just from the glint of pleasure in his eyes.

"Crucio!"

"Protego!" she cried, just in time. The spell bounced off her shield, saving her from unimaginable physical pain. She heard Tom cry out in rage, saw him attempt to stand out of the corner of her eye, but whatever pain he'd been feeling before Hades arrived had weakened him, and he collapsed to his knees.

With a sudden burst of inspiration, Ginny conjured ropes, and shouted, "Oppugno!" The ropes flew at Hades, and Hades, surprised, was caught in them. Ginny moved around the couch to approach Hades as he fell against the archway to the kitchen, ropes wrapped around his body, trapping his arms, moving up and down and around his body, tying his legs, and then tightening around his throat. She saw his wand still in his hands, and he seemed about to mutter a counter-curse. Quickly, Ginny tried to remember every spell she'd ever heard of, tried to think of a spell that would not only disarm him but stop him from killing her with his bare hands, and remembered an old one Hermione had read about in a book once. It was horrific. It was the only spell she could think of.

"Digilere!" she called, and the wand fell from Hades' grasp, hitting the floor along with all of his fingers. Choking, Hades tried to scream in rage, but his face was turning purple. She was about to call off the ropes when Hades disappeared in the quick pop of an apparition. He left his fingers and his wand behind.

Ginny breathed for the first time in what felt like hours. The fight had to have only lasted five minutes at the most, but for her it had stretched on into infinity. She was changed, she knew it. The wand in her hand gave her back her strength, her fire. A Death Eater had threatened her, and she had won. Ginevra Weasley had always been a powerful witch, and now she was remembering exactly how to be that again.

Still, she was injured. She reached around and, after a second to steel herself, pulled the large shard of mirror out of her shoulder, and she felt warm, sticky blood running down her back. She ran into the bathroom and used the wand to remove the other pieces, and did some quick, basic magic to heal the cuts and minor burns. There were a few holes in her jumper now, not that it really mattered.

The wand was still in her hands. Tom hadn't managed to take it back from her yet. This was her chance, really her only chance. Tom was too weak to stop her. She was in control of the magic now. She had the power. If she wanted to leave, she could. And there was nothing in the world save Harry's resurrection that she wanted more.

Quickly, Ginny ran into her bedroom for the last time, picked up Shikoba and ran back into the sitting area. She was ready to head for the door and try every unlocking spell she knew, to run away and tell the aurors where to find Tom so that he wouldn't die, but be placed in Azkaban permanently. But as she moved for the door, she heard him screaming.

Hesitantly, she moved forward, and noticed his shoes sticking out of the end of the coffee table. She knelt down and saw him hiding beneath there, his hands covering his ears, his screams half sobs. His skin was white, save for patches of red where his blood had splattered from cuts.

Sighing heavily, Ginny began healing Tom, hoping to end his screaming as she muttered, "Honestly, it's only a few cuts and minor burns…"

Tom gave a high-pitched laugh. "As though mere physical pain could matter to me?"

"Then what is it?" Ginny sighed, frustrated as her own confusion. "Why are you like this today?" What other sort of pain was there that Tom Riddle could experience?

Again, Tom laughed, but the sound was strangled by a sob. He turned his head, and his eyes were bloodshot as he examined her face and body, for the first time not in a way that seemed meant to seduce her or only to make her happy, or to observe her scientifically, but like he actually saw her and her pain and felt it himself. He looked at her in a way that was very much like any concerned human being.

"Look at you…you beautiful, thin thing…" his words were choked as his throat tightened, and he screamed again against some horrendous pain she couldn't see. "Like- like a dead doll, you are….and I caused this."

She couldn't disagree.

They were together in silence for a short time, and then Tom began to scream again, writhing against something that burned him from the inside. Realizing that she would get no answers and that the only thing she could really do was to turn him in, she began to move away.

"PLEASE!" he cried, screaming louder than she'd heard him before, even louder than he'd been in the kitchen. His voice had an edge of panic to it, as though she were holding a knife to his throat. "Don't! Stay. Please don't go, please stay."

Uncertainly, Ginny sat back down, and then lay down on the floor so she could rest her head and look him in the eye. Shikoba perched on top the table, letting out a mournful sound.

Tom breathed deeply, attempting to catch his breath. Again he reached for her, and again Ginny couldn't bring herself to touch him. But again her presence seemed enough to comfort him, and the screaming and howling began to die down. He only let out a whimper of pain now and then, as he stared into her eyes.

"Ginny…" he gasped. "My Lady of Shallot. The-the Lady of Shallot. Distract me. Recite it to me, I beg you."

He begged her. Tom Riddle, her kidnapper, her tormenter, begged her. She ought to be strong and stand and walk away, but something in his eyes, in his desperate manner made her pause. She was still too weak to be thoroughly strong, and in her weakness she felt a need to show mercy. Mercy he had never granted her, mercy he certainly didn't deserve, but mercy a good person would show someone this pathetic.

Ginny drew in a breath slowly, and then began to speak in soft whispers. "On either side the river lie long fields of barley and of rye, that clothe the wold and meet the sky; the thro' the field the road runs by to many-tower'd Camelot. The yellow-leaved waterlily, the green-sheathed daffodilly tremble in the water chilly, round about Shalott." She paused, and watched for his reaction. His eyelids began to lower, and his breathing came a little more steadily. The words seemed important to him, or perhaps it was just hearing her voice that calmed him. She didn't care to figure it out. "Willows whiten, aspens shiver. The sunbeam showers break and quiver in the stream that runneth ever by the island in the river, flowing down to Camelot. Four grey walls, and four grey towers overlook a space of flowers, and the silent isle imbowers the Lady of Shalott."

As she continued to speak, she continued to watch Tom. His eyes were half-closed now, and he looked as though he were ready for sleep. He still twitched now and then, and he winced against the invisible, inexplicable pain, but he listened to her voice as closely as he ever had before. For once, he was truly listening to her. It was only unfortunate that the words weren't hers.

"A charmed web she weaves always. A curse is on her, if she stay her weaving, either night or day, to look down to Camelot. She knows not what the curse may be; therefore she weaveth steadily, therefore no other care hath she, the Lady of Shalott. She lives with little joy or fear. Over the water, running near, the sheepbell tinkles in her ear. Before her hangs a mirror clear, reflecting tower'd Camelot."

It was incredible that she still knew all these words, but after so many months of listening to Tom repeat it constantly, of reading it again and again, of obsessively writing it…it must have been burned into her mind. She felt the words leave her mouth easily, without having to think about them. "But in her web she still delights to weave the mirror's magic sights, for often thro' the silent nights a funeral, with plumes and lights and music, came from Camelot: Or when the moon was overhead came two young lovers lately wed; 'I am half sick of shadows,' said the Lady of Shalott."

Tom cried out suddenly, and she stopped reciting. But he looked at her sharply, pleadingly, asking again for her continue without speaking the words. To settle him down, she kept going, never once having to pause to recall a certain word or phrase.

"A cloudwhite crown of pearl she dight, all raimented in snowy white that loosely flew - her zone in sight clasp'd with one blinding diamond bright - her wide eyes fix'd on Camelot, though the squally east-wind keenly blew, with folded arms serenely by the water stood the queenly Lady of Shalott."

"Stop," gasped Tom. "I don't want to hear her die."

Ginny nodded, and bit her lip softly. She wasn't sure what to do now. Should she go? Should she stay? Was she wasting her one chance at freedom by comforting her murderer?

Tom's breaths were wheezing, but he was quieter, stiller than he'd been before. He looked her in the eyes, his gaze perhaps weaker than her own. "You were right, Ginny, back then," he said, and before she could ask what he meant, he continued. "I am worthless. No, no…I am so much worse than worthless. To mean nothing, I see now, means so much more than to mean pain and suffering and a great black pit that pulls all light into it, swallowing it forever."

Ginny blinked, uncertain what to say, or even if she ought to speak. "What is happening, Tom?"

Tom closed his eyes, a high-pitched whine in his throat as he winced against another wave of agony. As it passed, he sighed, and his muscles all relaxed. His shoulders slumped, his face turned towards the floor, his hips fell forward. Slowly, Ginny reached towards him to feel for a pulse, her heart pounding in her chest. But once her fingers touched his cold skin, Tom opened his eyes.

"I wanted to know you. I always did. To understand you, to take you apart and see what was inside," he gasped. "My desire to own you stemmed from that. My craving to truly, fully know that powerful young witch that wrote to me and confided all her secrets in me and yet never told me who she really was. And then, as I watched you with Potter, I wanted to know…to know what it was like to be truly loved by you. I always craved your love, Ginny, even before I had this hopeless plan. I wanted you to want me more than you wanted anyone else. And for a long time now, I have tried to love you, tried so hard."

Ginny had no words, but Tom didn't seem to expect any.

"Valensapri," he whispered.

"What?"

He closed his eyes, swallowed, and took a deep breath as his hands closed into fists. "Valensapri," he repeated himself. "It is the counterspell to all my locks on this place. If you use it, you can leave. Your family is at Hogwarts. Unlock the flat, step outside, find a private place to gather strength, and apparate to Hogsmeade. Your brother, George, spends a lot of his time at the Hog's Head."

Ginny heard nothing for a moment but her soft breaths. "Why are you telling me this?" she asked slowly.

Tom opened his eyes again, and reached out a hand. This time, she let him touch her. His fingertips touched her ice cold cheek, and though he'd been cold earlier, his skin now felt like it was on fire. The heat of his touch hurt her, but she stayed still, allowing it. He brushed her cheek with his fingers, and a ghost of a smile appeared on his white lips. "You need to be free. You need to live. You need…your own power. You were radiant, fighting Hades, with your hair like wildfire around your glowing face, your stance strong and your mind quick. You've always been a powerful witch, and I took that from you," he said, then took a moment to catch his breath. "I took everything from you. You deserve a life of your own, and I can't give that to you. I can't even let you live. You need to leave, Ginny. Now. Before I change my mind."

To say that she was confused was an understatement, but there were no other words to describe the look that appeared on her face. Everything he said was true, but how was it he was finally understanding it? Could this all be some new trick to earn her love? She opened her mouth to reply, to agree, to say anything, but no words came to her lips.

Tom shook his head, and drew his hand back, and dug his fingers into the rug. "Don't reply, Ginny. We don't need any last words to each other. You owe me nothing, not as much as a farewell. Just go, Ginny. And take that damned bird with you."

Ginny looked at him, and realized she was looking at him for the last time. He was right, she owed him no last words. Even though she now could finally, finally go home, finally see her family, finally cry in her mother's arms, finally talk to her father about the loss of Harry, to reunite with her siblings and her friends and finally, finally, finally choose her own life, to maybe get a job or pursue her old dream of being a Quidditch player…

Even though all that was finally in her grasp (if she managed to recover the physical damage Tom had done), even though Tom had given it all back to her, he was, in the end, the one who had taken it from her. And she had no goodbyes for him.

Ginny stood, and picked up Shikoba. She whispered Valensapri, placed her hand on the cool brass door handle, opened it, stepped out, and closed the door.

Ginny was outside, on her own, free to go where she pleased. Free to leave Tom Riddle behind. Free to go to her family. Free to live her life.

Free.

Artificial: Don't panic – it's not over yet! –grins- Spells used are mostly from canon. The finger-removing spell was mentioned but had no incantation so I made up my own by meshing Latin words together in a way that likely makes no sense to anyone who knows any Latin. I did the same for the unlocking spell, though I made that one up myself. Please review!