Disclaimer:Do I look like J.K Rowling to you? She owns it all and I own nothing. I also don't own Wicked either. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Note: Wow! I never thought that this story would get such a positive response! Cookies to everyone! Why am I using so many exclamation points? This chapter is not quite as dark as the previous two, but it is still slightly dark. Also, the POV in this chapter switches back and forth between Ginny's POV and Tom's POV. This story is DH compliant, for the most part, although I deviated from it slightly, but very slightly.
Sophia Supernova: Thanks so much for the great review and constructive criticism! I am so glad that you are enjoying the story and the humor as much as you are! To answer your question, Ginny is twenty-years-old in this story.
So, on with show-ahem- I mean- story….
"What is this feeling
So sudden and new?
I felt it the moment
I laid eyes on you…
My pulse is rushing…
My head is reeling…
My face is flushing…
What is this feeling?
Fervid as a flame
Does it have a name?
Yes!:
Loathing
Unadulterated loathing…"
- Wicked, "What Is This Feeling"
Chapter 2: Odd Ballrooms, Confrontations, and Memories
Ginny Weasley felt like she was as light as a feather, just floating and floating in a great black void. She was strangely calm, as if all of her troubles had just melted away.
'If this is what dying feels like, it's not so bad,' she thought, reveling in the sense of calm and serenity that had washed over her.
She continued to feel calm and light, until she felt something cold, hard, and very solid underneath her, and then everything came flooding back to her in an instant. Ginny panicked and opened her eyes quickly, thinking that she would be in Malfoy Manor or some other place chained to a wall or in a cell, but her surroundings were completely different than what she had expected.
She was lying on a stone floor in a hallway, and she could hear Muggle classical music, voices, and laughter coming from down the hall. She felt extraordinarily confused. Shouldn't she be in a dungeon or something? She got to her feet, failing to notice her attire, and started to make her way down the hall, wondering why she was able to move normally without experiencing pain after the incident with Malfoy.
When she was half-way down the hall, she caught her reflection in a small mirror on the wall, and froze. Ginny was wearing a floor-length, Victorian ball gown complete with a corset. The gown was black with emerald green and silver trimming. Her straight red hair was in an artful chignon, which had a silver hair ornament set with emeralds in it, and she had a couple curled tendrils framing her face. Around her neck, there was a delicate silver necklace with an emerald in the center, and she had a matching pair of earrings in her ears. She was also wearing long black gloves that went up to her elbows.
Ginny was absolutely horrified, not that she didn't think that she didn't look beautiful, but it was too grandiose and Slytherin for her taste, and she was wondering how she got here, why she was dressed like this, and what was going on.
She realized that she probably did not have her wand because Malfoy took it. She figured that she should look for it anyway, and after a minute of patting her gown, she found it.
Ginny tried to alter the appearance of her gown to something less old-fashioned and Slytherin-like with a flourish of her wand, but it did not work. Panicking, Ginny cast 'Wingardium Leviosa' on a bust in the corridor to make sure she could still use magic. Much to her relief, the bust lifted into the air, and she levitated it back to where it originally was. She looked back at her reflection, puzzled at the fact that she was unable to alter her outfit.
Her heart was beating a million miles a minute, but she was determined to get to the bottom of it, so she turned her gaze away from her reflection and marched to the door behind which the noises were originating from. She opened up the door, and saw that she had just walked into a massive ballroom where a masquerade ball was taking place. The women were all dressed in Victorian ball gowns, and the men were dressed in suits and tuxedos that were from around the same era. Both the men and women were wearing exotic, and sometimes frightening, masks. In one corner of the ballroom, there was a small orchestra playing the music that she had heard in the hall, and there was a huge crystal chandelier dangling from the ceiling in the center of the room.
Ginny, captivated by the beauty and splendor of the room, couldn't seem to stop looking around in awe. She eventually came to her senses, and conjured a mask with a small flick of her wand. The mask was ebony with silver and green glittery swirls around the eyes and had sleek black and emerald feathers covering the edges.
'Again, it is way too Slytherin for me, but it works. Besides, it matches my ensemble perfectly. Oh well. What was that Muggle saying that Hermione said? Oh, yeah! When in Rome, do as the Roman's do,' Ginny thought, donning the mask hastily, and slipping into the crowd to figure out where she was and why she was there.
Tom Marvolo Riddle was leaning against a wall in a corner of the ballroom watching all of the couples dancing, bored out of his mind. He didn't even know why he showed up since he detested balls or dances of any kind. In fact, he didn't even remember arriving; he just remembered popping up in a ballroom.
Tom had found with blatant disgust that he was in a Muggle tuxedo from about the 1800's. He would have transfigured it into dress robes, but he wanted to blend in with the crowd so that he could question people about where he was and what exactly was going on. He had also found that he was wearing a mask (a simple, plain black one), not unlike the ones that the other men were wearing. He sighed almost inaudibly in frustration, confusion, and disgust, and joined the crowd to collect information that might be useful to him.
He found out very little, if anything at all. Everyone he spoke to seemed to think him crazy, especially when he accidentally mentioned something about spells once. In fact, the only thing that he had discovered was that he happened to be in castle or palace, but he didn't have to interrogate anyone to know that because it was obvious to anyone with even half a brain.
He was thoroughly confused, which was an extremely rare occurrence indeed for Tom Marvolo Riddle, one of the most brilliant students to walk the corridors of Hogwarts. Tom felt that he should stop leaning uselessly against a wall, people watching from a corner, and do something else more productive, so he searched the room for an exit. He only found one: the main entrance to the ballroom.
He was in the middle of the tedious process of weaving through the cornucopia of people dancing and socializing to get to his only way out, when someone bumped into him from behind. He would have fallen face-first onto the floor had he not caught himself in time. He silently thanked Merlin that he had fast reflexes. Tom whirled around, extraordinarily annoyed that someone had been oblivious and idiotic enough to walk into him.
Standing there was a pretty, young woman with coppery hair in an elaborate chignon wearing a black dress with silver and green accents ('Slytherin colors,' he noted in approval) and an ornate matching mask. Although he was pleased with her outfit, he was not quite as pleased with the young woman herself. He fixed her with an intimidating glare, which he was sure if looks could kill, she would have dropped dead on the spot. She looked apologetic and embarrassed, wringing her hands sheepishly.
'Good. At least the chit has the sense and decency to be ashamed,' he commented viciously in his mind.
"I'm sorry. I wasn't paying attention," the girl explained apologetically.
"Obviously. Watch where you are going, you imbecilic Muggle!" Tom hissed.
"What is your problem? I said I was sorry, so you don't need to be so rude. Also, why did you call me a Muggle?" the annoying chit retorted.
"Because that is what you are, Muggle," he stated with an air of arrogance, a patronizing smirk gracing his handsome features.
"Okay, you stop with the condescending tone and superior attitude anytime now, you arrogant git. I am a witch, and you are clearly a wizard since you referred to me as a Muggle," she retaliated, wiping his smirk right off his face.
"Prove it," Tom ordered, feeling skeptical that she truly was a witch.
She showed him her wand, and asked him rhetorically, "Happy now?"
"Not exactly, but it will suffice," he answered although he was well aware that it was a rhetorical question.
"So, do you know what exactly is going on?" she asked with a hint of annoyance creeping into her voice.
"I do not have any idea. I was really hoping you could tell me that, but you are just as clueless as I am, apparently," Tom grudgingly admitted, vexed as well.
"Well, since we seem to be the only magical beings in this whole room, we might as well work together to answer solve this mystery and find a way out. I really hate to say this, seeing as I really do not want to work with such an arrogant bigot, but it seems like the only option we have," the young woman said.
"Let's get this straight. Firstly, there is no 'we'; I operate alone, and I would prefer to keep it that way. Secondly, you are incorrect in assuming that there is only one option. You could continue whatever you were doing before you bothered me, and I could try to find a way out. So, if you don't mind, I am going to do just that, without you, of course," Tom hissed, becoming more irked by the second.
"Yes, actually. I do mind quite a bit."
"Well, that is just too bad, isn't it? I do not care if you mind or not, because your opinion does not matter to me at all, and I am going to end up doing it anyway, regardless of what you think or say," Tom spat, and stalked off without further ado.
"Hey! You can't just walk away like that," she called as she followed him.
"I believe I am, you vexing girl. Now, leave me alone before I do something that will make you rue the day you were born!" Tom hissed dangerously.
"Like what?" she challenged.
"I will 'Crucio' you until you are begging for death, if you do not cease bothering me, and I will take great pleasure in doing so, believe you me," he responded.
'This is the most annoying and persistent chit that I have ever had the displeasure of meeting! Doesn't she ever stop?' he thought, while contemplating the delicious possibilities of torturing her.
"Who do you think you are, the bloody Dark Lord? The last time I checked, he was six-feet-under in an unmarked grave," she responded cheekily.
Despite the highly amusing and entertaining reaction she would most likely have if he told her that he was in fact Lord Voldemort, he didn't think that it was the best idea. Wait, did the girl just say that he was dead? That wasn't right, unless he really was dead.
Tom Riddle's usually pale skin turned even paler, if that were possible.
A memory had surfaced in his mind when she said this.
Tom was in his third year at Hogwarts, in Defense Against the Dark Arts, looking down upon the Boggart imitating his own corpse on the floor of the classroom, absolutely terrified, even though he hid it well from everyone else. Professor Merrythought had intervened before Tom had had the chance to say 'Riddikulus', and forced the Boggart back into the drawer of the desk from whence it came.
If what she said was true, and there was no possible way it could be, his worst—and only—fear had come true: he had died or was dead.
"He is dead?" he asked the girl anxiously.
"Yeah. Do you live under a rock or something? Harry Potter killed the evil git about three or four years ago," she said.
Another memory drifted to the front of his mind, only this one was a bit more recent.
With shock and horror, Lord Voldemort watched helplessly as the florescent green light of his own Killing Curse rushed toward him with deadly speed, signaling his own demise, and he had never been as frightened as he was right now. He knew it was all over, and the boy had defeated him. The Elder Wand had failed him.
Tom now remembered everything: the Elder Wand, Gregorovitch, Nurmengard and Grindelwald, Albus Dumbledore's body in a white marble tomb, clutching the Elder Wand in his dead hands, killing Lily and James Potter, returning to his body in the graveyard, Bellatrix being killed, and his defeat. Tom also remembered after his demise, being forced to exist in an infantile form, trapped forevermore in limbo, unable to become a ghost despite his extreme fear of death.
Oddly enough, he had some memories that were his, and yet they were not. Apparently, he had a few memories that were his Horcruxes'. For example: Tom recalled everything that Ginny Weasley had written in his diary, even though he knew that he was nowhere near Hogwarts during that time.
'Damn it! Potter actually killed me! How did I get out of limbo and that pathetic body that I had been confined to? It doesn't matter right now. My plans! My beautifully constructed plans of world-domination, gone! Ruined by an incessant teenage boy and a meddlesome, foolish, old man!' he thought, extraordinarily livid.
He screamed a few choice swear words inside his head and it took all of his self-control to restrain himself from torturing and killing (assuming that they weren't dead) everyone in the room, especially the insolent redhead currently standing in front of him. What use would she be to him dead? If he killed her, he would no longer be able to interrogate her.
He turned his attention back to the young woman, so that she might reveal more, but she had disappeared. He searched the crowd for a full half hour before giving up. Tom resumed his task of finding a way out. The door that served as the main entrance to the ballroom revealed a never-ending labyrinth of corridors and stairwells, and he would have gotten completely lost had he not used the Four-Point Spell copiously.
He eventually ended up returning to the ballroom, tired of navigating the twisting hallways and long, winding staircases, and feeling thoroughly chagrinned that he hadn't found a way to escape. Tom did not understand how the young woman could have disappeared that quickly right under his own nose, when he, Lord Voldemort, had been searching for a way out for hours.
'She will pay for her insolence. Yes, she will pay, but only after she has outlived her usefulness. Nobody ever insults Lord Voldemort and gets away with it,' Tom thought to himself ominously. 'Nobody.'
Author's Note: Hate it? Love it? Please review and tell me what you think. I'm sorry if this chapter really confused anyone. Instead of answering questions, I only brought new ones up. I promise the next chapter will explain a few things, including why Ginny was in a ballroom and how she ended up in there, especially with Tom of all people.
I also did a little research on various Harry Potter characters via the Internet when I was really bored at school one day. When I read about Voldemort on Wikipedia, I found out a few things. Firstly, one of the main contributing factors as to why he is unable to love is that he was conceived under the influence of Amorentia. Secondly, what I said about his "afterlife" is true: he would exist in a form like what Harry saw in King's Cross, and despite his fear of death, he would be unable to become a ghost due to his use of Horcruxes. I have more, but this author's note is getting way too long. Anyway, the next chapter will be in Ginny's POV, and will try to get it up as soon as I can.