DISCLAIMER: Once again I shall say: I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER, OR GINNY, OR TOM RIDDLE, OR well you get the idea...
Summary: Heh, take a look at the title!
PAIRING: GinxTom
WARNING: EVIL DARK LORD ALERT!
Previously...
Sorted? Sorted again! She'd probably end up in Gryffindor! But probably Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff wouldn't be that bad. But if she did get sorted into… well, Slytherin (though there was simply not a single possibility), then Grandpa Weasley would certainly curse her for her ill luck…
Oh, let the matter rest! This was temporary! Temporary, she drilled into herself. But somehow, a fluttering in her stomach warned her that this certainly wasn't temporary.
Chapter 2 - the mean sorting hat and a scary revelation!
Dippets estimation was as bad as his demeanor. It was unmistakably off.
"ONE WEEK?" The Matron had hollered outrageously, her plump cheeks turning red, then white, then red once again, upon hearing of the date of Ginny's Sorting Ceremony. "As I've mentioned, that wizard's thick in the head! Honestly, he expects you to be fully recovered in ONE WEEK?"
Apparently, having held some sort of grudge against Dippet, the Matron probably wasn't the most reliable person to agree with when it came to Dippets weaker (more refinely put)traits. But Ginny had to agree with her for once, that: Dippet indeed hadn't half the wit of Dumbledore. Or, he just doesn't bother to use his brains.
"Errr… Um… Yes…" Ginny lowered her eyes meekly, not daring to say anymore. If she'd ever learnt anything from the experience of having Mrs Weasley as her Mother, she'd know not to say anything else until the outburst blew over.
"You'll take about TWO WEEKS at the least! Even with all the spells and potions in my head!" The Matron fumed, beginning to vent her anger by manually scrubbing a stain on the floor ferociously – as though it were Dippets face. Then she realized its stupidity, and then sighing, cast a little spell over the stain instead.
She is really protective over her patients, Ginny couldn't help but smile a secret smile. Just like the Matron during my time.
"What's so funny, Miss Friwarn?" The Matron snapped good-naturedly at Ginny, and Ginnys smile couldn't stop itself from widening.
Either the Matron was really experienced, or she was just extraordinarily gifted in her trade. For Ginny took exactly two weeks to recover, and Dippet was forced to admit he was wrong by postponing her Sorting Ceremony.
The week flew by rather unnoticed, dotted with constant nightmares of course, and not before long, Ginny awoke to find the soot-coloured sorting hat being lowered onto her head by dull-faced Dippet himself.
Six years ago, the hat was too big for my head, Ginny mused. Six years later, the hat's still too big for my head. Flops right over my vision. It's ONE big hat, OR my head is just small.
Your head is the one that's small, that hat replied bitingly. Hmmm… Interesting specimen… I dare say you aren't from this era, no?
Ginny's mind gulped, if her mind was capable of doing so. Now that's two people who know. Well, if the hat was considered a person…
The hat ignored her speculation, and sulked. Your memories give me the shivers. I wish I could hop off your head and run, but no, I don't have legs! A pity, really! Now, let's get over with this…
You are smart, but through hardships you've since learned to be cunning.
You are loyal, but bad experiences have taught you to be distrustful.
And no doubt about it, you are brave, but boy, you have one big ambition down there. What is it? To return to destroy the…
Stop prying! Ginny's mind yelled involuntarily. I don't give a damn what house I'm in! Get over with it!
As though to play on Ginny's temper, the hat smirked and gorged on in delight. Very similar thought processes to somebody I remember… Was it… Oh yes, that Riddle boy.
WHATTTT? Ginny yelped mentally, jerking backwards, causing the hat to flip backwards and land with a 'flop!' on the ground.
Dippet bent over and reached for the hat…
The audience unsettled her, or at least their expressions did. She was famous, or that hat was at the very least. They were all staring questioningly at her, or at the hat, with gazes which spat out clearly: What the hell is going on?
Well, if that was the case, Ginny hoped they were staring at the hat. It was the hat's fault, really… -
"SLYTHERIN!" The hat piped out suddenly, as though to save Ginny from the awkwardness and embarrassment she was facing at the moment, and, at the same time, literally cursing Ginny to Azkaban.
Awkward silence filled the hall.
Ginny tensed and clenched her fist with anticipation.
Oh, so now even Slytherin doesn't want me. Not that I even want them…
Out of the blue, a few unsure claps rose from the Slytherin table, as though they weren't positive they heard the verdict correctly. But soon more joined, and a comforting thunderous clap echoed within the great hall.
Ginny shot the sorting hat the 'you-so-are-gonna-pay-for-that' look as it was placed onto the table by Dippet, before making her way off the platform, and without looking up once, reluctantly seated herself at the rear end of the Slytherin table, next to a dark-brown-haired witch.
So now Granpa weasley is going to curse me as well. Great.
Now, what would Harry do? He'd probably just rip the hat into pieces in front of everyone… And Hermione? I guess she won't do a thing except thrash all those Stinkin' Slytherins in every test… And… Ron? Maybe curse 'bloody hell!' and take the first train out of Hogwarts.
No… Don't think about Ron… Not Ron…
But Ginny couldn't do any of these. She had to keep a low profile, figure out how to get of this time period, and BOOMZ, get back to her era.
Ginny wasn't paying attention to the rest of Professor Dippet's speech. It went blablabla into one ear, and blablabla out from the other ear. It finished with a 'now let us begin our dinner', and everyone began to wolf down their meals hungrily.
But Ginny had no appetite. I mean, who would have? After being sentenced to a house equal to Azkaban?
Diagonally across Ginny, at the head of the Slytherin table, a distinctively handsome dark haired prefect with cold sapphire-blue eyes studied the new Slytherin specimen meticulously.
It was of course necessary to pre-determine the worth of his subjects before he were to entrust anything to them.
Her hair was vivid-flaming red, he noticed, and she was lithe in figure, not very outstanding in features, and her behavior somehow gave the impression that she was rather… weak.
Weak? In that case, she was more or less useless to him. But perhaps she could play the fine role of his scapegoat though.
How wrong he was.
He watched as girl looked up and scanned the Slytherin table with suspicion, her eyes dark and heavily laced with mistrust, practically bearing holes into each member of the table, as though digging into their minds, performing… Legilimens?
It pretty much interested him to observe her seeming self-afflicted misgivings to every single person in the hall. Until, she became aware that she was an object of interest to someone else as well, and stared him right into the eye.
Her eyes are brown, Riddle noted in shock (which was quickly contained), and bright brown as well. And yet, appearing so dark, calculative and guarded.
Her stare intensified with every second, and Riddle lips curled up with a smirk. Oh, so she wants the play the who's-the-most intimidating game? Very well then.
Ginny finally tore her gaze off the unsettling boy seated at the head of the table, suppressing a shiver. He looked somehow familiar...
He's handsome, in a sort of dark and sharp way. Probably the dangerous-evil-slithering- python-type, who would without hesitation, nip you from your butt when you're not looking.
The thing was: his very presence perturbed her for some reason. Well, to be honest, she was suspicious of practically everyone with the ugly green snake-crest on their school uniform. But that one in particular just gave her the creeps.
Anyway, enough of that creepster. She would sort him out later.
"Excuse me…" She tapped the brown haired witch sitting beside her on the shoulder lightly. "Are we allowed to be excused from dinner?"
Ginny actually intended to make a beeline for the library so as to continue her research on that strange spell which Harry had summoned, and quickly make a breakthrough so that she could disappear as fast from this place as she could.
The witch turned to her, and her eyes flickered with uncertainty under Ginny's gaze. "Yes… Yes, I suppose. You're… not hungry?"
This witch seemed different from the rest of her Slytherin counterparts… She appeared timid, tired, shy, defeated, fearful, and lastly, remorseful, for some reason. And there seemed to be an inner conflict going on within her, as though she was blaming herself for something…
But then again, all those slimy snakes loved to give misgivings.
Remember, when they all joined Voldermort during the Second Wizarding War?
Then Ginny realized with a start that her manners were nearly equivalent to that of Dippets. Oh Merlin! She hadn't even asked her her name, or introduced herself for that matter!
"No, not really hungry," Ginny attempted a smile. "I think you've heard my name just now, right? I'm Ginerva Molly Weas- I mean, Fridwarn. You can call me Ginny if you like. And yours?"
The girl smiled a timid smile at this, "Um… Olive Hornby. Nice to meet you."
Ginny flashed another hurried smile back.
Olive Hornby? Wasn't it the girl Myrtle usually talked about? The girl who always bullied her? Doesn't seem like the Pansy 'I'm-a-complete-bitch-slap-me' type. In fact, she looks like a victim herself!
But Ginny's thoughts were interrupted when a pale-haired, pale faced, and basically 'pale'-everything boy scooted over to her.
The first thought that struck her was: DRACO MALFOY WHAT IN THE WORLD ARE YOU DOING HERE?
No kidding. That guy was a replica of Draco Malfoy. Slim – check, tall - check, pointed chin -check, evil smirk – check, that's about everything.
The second thought that struck her was: Hey, wasn't that guy like sitting next to that creepster at the other end of the table? Don't tell me he walked one whole round just to say hi.
Fishy.
"Hi," The-replica-of-Draco said rather pleasantly. "I'm Abraxas Malfoy. I suppose… you're Ginerva, aren't you? So… I assume you're a transfer, no?"
Oooh! A Malfoy! Interesting. I should have guessed. If only Draco could fake an actual nice smile so well.
His grandfather could do it better than him.
"Yes." A taut and guarded reply. Ginny wasn't going to let out any information to Draco, or his father, or even his grandfather. Anyone who had light pale hair was out of her 'friend-list'.
"So… You're in your six year?"
"Yes. You?"
"Yep, me too. Um… Err…"
Riddle watched their conversation without amusement. Apparently, Malfoy wasn't making any progress.
When he'd commanded Malfoy to find out more about her, he hadn't meant for him to re-iterate questions they already knew the answers to.
Completely disregarding his dinner, Riddle found himself taking note throughout the conversation to punish Malfoy for his lack of intelligence and efficiency. He was practically faltering under her! Weak! As weak as a pathetic Muggle. Worthless.
Riddle stood up, his patience at its last straw, but his face a mask, devoid of emotion. And as he stood, pairs of eyes fixed themselves on him. Fewer out of fear, some out of reverence, most out of admiration, and others, mainly the girls, out of lovesickness. As he passed, he effortlessly faked a warm smile at them, and they squealed with utmost delight.
Those type were the easiest to manipulate. Complete Airheads, those. But he did nothing about them for they did help to spread his 'propaganda' after all.
He was approaching the conversation between Malfoy and that Friwarn girl, when she excused herself, bade farewell to Hornby and Malfoy, before collecting her belongings and rushing upstairs in a flurry.
From the way Riddle's manner turned deadly calm, those from his inner circle tensed, knowing that someone was more-than dead meat.
Ginny had captured a short passing fear in Abraxas eyes when he had replied: "That one… His name is, um… Tom Riddle."
As for Olive, she had smiled and said happily (for the first time) that 'he's very kind and good looking'.
Ginny had blanched at the irony.
And Abraxas had quickly nodded without a word.
Tom Marvolo Riddle, Lord Voldermort. Ginny would have cried for receiving such ill luck to be thrown into the same era as Voldermort's youthful self.
But past experiences had told her that crying was useless. She had cried when George had lost his ear; she had cried when Fred died; she had cried when Ron had betrayed them; she had cried when Harry was badly injured… She had always cried, but everything still remained unchanged.
And when she'd seen from the corner of her eye, the king-of-all-snakes approaching them for some strange reason, she had hurriedly thanked Abraxas and Olive, before running off in fear.
She was expecting Voldermort to throw a hex, a jinx, or even the killing curse at her for daring to run off from him like that, but no green light emerged – and she was still very much alive.
Only then, after calming down and organizing her thoughts, could she hear footsteps approach her from behind.
The Dark Lord has come to hunt you down! Pull out your wand Ginny! Turn and Fight!
But instead, to her relief, Olive's soft and timid voice called out from behind, "Err… Gin-ny? Do you need a guide?"
Ginny grinned; aware she looked utterly stupid pulling out her wand. She quickly slipped it back into her pocket, hoping Olive didn't catch anything.
Oh yes, I'm supposed to be new, huh?
"Thank you, Olive." Ginny replied, feeling genuinely grateful. Now with one person to accompany her, the Dark Lord's threat seemed to dissipate.
Now, to the Library, time to study a bit about the spell. Boy, if Hermione knew, she would certainly be proud.
A/N: I err... Kinda enjoyed writing the story... So I hope you guys enjoyed reading it as well!
