Disclaimer: This story includes characters and situations that are part of the Harry Potter universe, which is copyright J.K.Rowling, Scholastic, Warner Brothers, Bloomsbury, etc. No copyright infringement is intended and no money is being made in the production of this FANFICTION. Not many outside resources were needed this time, but I (as always) made extensive use of the Harry Potter Lexicon when writing this chapter.
Author's Note: This chapter was a pain to write, and the next chapter will be too, so it might take a while to post, but I don't post something I'm not basically happy with, and I'm happy with this chapter. I hope you are too. Thanks go to my beta-reader Katy (who saves me from immeasurable embarrassment and defeat with her edits), and reviewers (more this time!) Pixie (You can lust after Malfoy in another fic. While I admit that there's a chance Canon!Draco could have classically good looks, I do not attribute to him the sexy personality so many authors do), Fantome (thank you thank you thank you, and I guess I have two cameos instead of one in this fic. grins madly), Amazing, lovely-lily-flower, and EriEka.
Expectations of Grandeur: Chapter 12: Nightmare Visitations
"It's no good, I tell you, it's just no good," Harry Potter moaned as he walked with his best friend from the Quidditch field. "He's got to be up to something, or else he wouldn't be bothering her, but with all the work and Quidditch practice we've got we can't do a thing without telling Dumbledore, who steadfastly refuses to believe that Riddle – Marvolo – is still evil."
Ron shook his head sadly. "I know, mate, but you should see this Ophicus at prefect meetings – he's well on the way to being Head Boy, I daresay. He's scarier than Hermione is; volunteers to take minutes every time. Dumbledore and McGonagall just love him, talk to him before and after meetings more often than the actual Head Boy or Girl, I'd say. He's the only Slytherin prefect who takes points from his own house, and the only prefect besides Hermione and me that stands up to Malfoy." Seeing Harry's angered expression, Ron quickly back-pedalled. "I think he's up to something as much as you do, but getting the goods on him is almost impossible."
Harry nodded grimly. The problem was that although Tom Riddle was finding more and more reasons to run into Ginny in the hallways, there was nothing that either of them could do about it. He was breaking no rules in talking to her, and as long as Ginny remained resolutely silent on the issue, neither Harry nor Ron had the heart to talk to her about it. She appeared to be on her game in Quidditch – having made the team after a very close call between her and a third year prodigy – and was studying, if anything, harder than ever. She was gregarious and cheerful while around them and her friends said they had no idea that anything was wrong with the girl, so Harry and Ron could say nothing to the new boy's detriment. Harry sighed angrily. "It's just no good, Ron. He's up to something – he wouldn't be talking to Ginny otherwise."
"I heard my name," called a voice behind them as Ginny ran to catch up with the two boys, having taken a marginally longer time in the showers. "What's this about talking to me?"
Ron shook his head. "It's nothing, Ginny," he muttered.
"It's about Ophicus, isn't it?" she asked, grabbing her brother's arm and pulling him to a halt, staring up at him. "You're going into overprotective older brother mode because Ophicus Marvolo has been talking to me?" She paused for a moment before continuing. "I can handle it, Ron. He's not trying to take over the world; he's just helping me with my Potions."
Ron's eyes flashed with anger and Harry, standing a few feet away, could barely believe his ears. "Ginny!" Ron shouted. "Remember who this is we're talking about! He might be parading under a new name and pretending to be friendly, but he's good at changing his name and charming his adversaries – you know that. Or you should, after your first year. This is just what mum was worried about, you turning naïve and allowing him to take advantage of you again! You're just asking to be sent home for the rest of the year. I promise you that if you don't show a little more caution in your dealings with Tom Riddle, because that's who he is, Ginny, don't deny it, I will owl mum and she will take you out of this school in a second."
Ginny stood, motionless for a moment, before she walked past them and continued towards the school. Harry could tell she was shaking, but whether because of anger or fear he didn't know. "Don't treat me like a small child, Ronald, and don't act like one," she called back to them. "I know what I'm doing." She paused, a few yards in front of them, before turning and looking directly at Ron, her face calm and a smile creeping to her lips. "Besides, I could always tell mum where you and Hermione have been going after prefect meetings. I don't imagine she'd take too kindly to that, now would she?"
Ron blushed to his ears and his sister calmly walked away. Harry couldn't help thinking that with the way she had so easily handled the two of them, Riddle might be possible after all. He smiled at the thought, but had to hurriedly snap back to his senses and run to catch up with Ron, who was streaking towards the castle and his sister, furious.
When they reached the common room, Ginny was nowhere to be seen, and sighing, Harry pulled Ron aside before they headed up to their own dormitory. "You and Hermione, mate?" he asked, one eyebrow raised. He wasn't sure if he believed Ginny's threat or not – after all, these were his two best friends, if anyone knew that something was going on, he would.
Ron gulped and his ears turned pink again. "No, of course not," he insisted, voice shaking a bit. "I mean, she pulls me off to the library every so often, but not like that. It's just – Ginny could say whatever she wanted, mum would believe her in a second because she's the girl and all."
Harry nodded very slowly, and frowned. He didn't know Ginny to pull threats out of thin air, and Ron wouldn't be so embarrassed about an unwarranted claim. "Then what was she talking about? And why are your ears pink?"
Ron laughed slightly. "Well, just think about it – Ginny telling Mum about you and Hermione, even if it wasn't true – making up some sordid affair or another." Ron shuddered at the thought, and Harry felt his face warming. Hermione was a wonderful friend, but the very memory of Rita Skeeter's insinuations about the two of them made him embarrassed.
Deciding that Ron's answer was acceptable, he nodded and smiled a bit. "But if something were to happen, you know, between you and Hermione, you'd tell me, right?" he asked, more for reassurance that he was, indeed, still Ron's best friend.
"Of course, Harry," Ron assured him. Harry broke into an all out grin as they both climbed the stairs to their dormitory, exhausted from the Quidditch practice.
Harry fell asleep faster than he would have thought possible, but he supposed that Quidditch was at least good for that. He could hear Ron snoring away in the nearby bed even before he dozed off, and the other three boys' breathing served as a makeshift lullaby. The fact that Ginny had been bluffing in her threat to tell her mother about Ron and Hermione comforted him strangely – it showed how easy it was for her to tell what would humiliate a person, what could be used against them or for them. And that meant that she perhaps stood a chance against Riddle. He smiled at the thought of the small girl defeating even that formidable opponent as he fell softly to sleep. But his slumber was soon rudely invaded by another dream.
He was in the Chamber of Secrets again, the strangely bright and warm Chamber of Secrets, torches were flickering and a table was sitting calmly in the middle of the cavernous space, plush red chairs surrounding it. He felt strangely comfortable in the environment, but the light and warmth jarred him, were caustic to his eyes and skin. He was waiting, waiting patiently, but for exactly what he didn't know.
Then he heard footsteps coming from the other end of the Chamber, cautious footsteps as of someone who shouldn't be here, someone who was frightened and wary to be down here. A timid foot turned the corner, a black Hogwarts robe, and a bright red head of hair. He recognised her as Ginny Weasley, but somehow that was separated from his dream-consciousness and in his dream he saw only a Gryffindor, probably a Weasley.
This wasn't the first time that Harry Potter had dreamed of Ginny Weasley since the school year began a few weeks ago. However, it was certainly the strangest, because as she timidly stepped into the Chamber, whispering what, he didn't know, his eyes snapped to her and trained her every move. Why would Ginny be in the Chamber? What was she doing? But stranger still were the emotions that swelled into his mind, thoughts of symbols, of carnage, and finally, of reticence. The time was not right, he must wait, but he could at least scare the foolish girl.
He moved towards her, slowly, staying close to the wall where the shadows that were once so copious still remained, he pulled out his wand and was going to say something when she turned and quickly ran around the corner, down a tunnel, and disappeared. He thought she was crying, and somehow, though that confused him more, he didn't feel too distracted on her behalf. Instead, he laughed. He recognised the sound of the laugh. It wasn't his chuckle, it was high-pitched and unnatural, the laugh that haunted his dreams and nightmares.
Harry Potter bolted upright and rubbed his dully aching scar. He shook his head to clear it. He took a deep breath. He wondered briefly why Ginny would go down into the Chamber of Secrets and then he reminded himself that it was, after all, only a dream, that his Occlumency lessons with Dumbledore had been going well and the Voldemort-dreams had been stopping recently, to be replaced with more mundane and average dreams, and that for all he knew it was some vaguely symbolic representation of his feelings toward Ginny at the time and her relation to Riddle. (Trelawney was teaching the advanced Divination students to interpret dreams and Ron had been complaining about the subject matter a few days ago.) Ginny was probably up in her room, fast asleep. It wouldn't do to worry about her. He rolled onto his side and rested his head back on his pillow. He closed his eyes. And he fell back into a now dreamless sleep.
Ginny Weasley, however, had yet to return to her dormitory in the Gryffindor tower, and was hurrying back from Myrtle's flooded bathroom, tears once again flowing from her cheeks. It had been two weeks since she had cried over Tom, but suddenly nothing made sense, and she realised that she couldn't go on in this in-between of forgiveness forever. Ron's words had reminded her of her own determination that he wasn't to be trusted, and although she countered that he was up to no evil deeds, she knew deep inside that she just couldn't be sure of that, ever. He was still Tom, no matter how much like Ophicus he seemed.
Amelia had brought back warm reports of Ophicus from every prefect's meeting, and she seemed to consider it her personal project to know as much about the new Slytherin as possible. Ginny had faint suspicions that her friend had ulterior motives for this, but the result was the same – that maligning Ophicus Serpens Marvolo in the fifth year Gryffindor girls' dormitory was effectively forbidden. Even Elisa had begun to warm up to the idea of the new Slytherin, although she remained staunchly of the opinion that she, personally, would never like him as he still belonged to that most horrible of houses. But Ginny hadn't been sure.
He had pursued her – nearly stalked her – since classes began, and she was beginning to enjoy their 'chance' meetings in the library. He had, after all, received more O.W.Ls than anyone except Hermione, and he was invaluable when the Potions textbook just seemed to swim in front of her eyes. It had only happened three times that he had helped her piece together Snape's assignment, but that was enough for Ginny when the school year had only barely begun and already she was feeling the weight of classes on her back.
But still, although he was kind and considerate (for the most part) and helped her with her Potions, he was Tom Riddle and that was damning evidence against him if Ginny Weasley had ever heard it. Because she couldn't forgive and forget, she couldn't forget what had happened her first year. It was written in her memory with indelible ink, and as much as she would rather have forgotten completely years ago, she couldn't deny that the remnants of her possession still lay, like the scars on a pipe smoker's lungs, hidden deep within her mind. And Tom threatened to bring them all to the surface with a single word, a single action.
She had to have some closure, had to find out for herself what had really happened. And that meant going to the Chamber of Secrets, one last time.
When she raced to the castle, she could tell her brother wasn't far behind, so she quickly turned a corner and hurried towards the library, taking a circuitous route through the school that assured her neither Ron nor Harry would run into her as she hurried to the first floor girls' bathroom. The closer she got to that home of her first year's terrors, the faster she ran. There was a sense of urgency, that unless she got down into the Chamber of Secrets quickly, she would never see it at all, and the same ghost of Tom Riddle would always haunt her.
She wasn't entirely sure that sneaking into the Chamber of Secrets would change anything, but she supposed it was at least worth a try. She reached the door to the bathroom at a breakneck speed, and skidded to a halt when she saw it was cordoned off from the rest of the hallway.
It was probably magically sealed, as well, to prevent students from interrupting Order meetings, should the Order ever actually been housed there – her letters from her mother didn't include any reference to moving the Order yet, so Ginny assumed that there had been some problem and the Order hadn't yet moved in. She pulled out her wand and prodded at the rope. It swung easily, lightly, silently. Sighing, she bent down to crawl under the barrier.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, Ginny Weasley knew that it was foolish to be going into so obvious of a forbidden place, but a tugging in her gut refused to allow her to think logically, and when she got inside the bathroom without a hitch and was staring down the hole that led to the Chamber, now equipped with stone steps, she felt that same knot in her stomach give a sharp jerk, and she almost fell down the first two steps before cautiously, nervously, continuing on her way down.
The cavernous space beneath the school opened before her in bright colours and glowing torches. A round table sat in the centre of the room adorned with snake frescoes and grand columns. The statue of Slytherin stood, monkey-like and brooding as she remembered it, on the far side of the Chamber. She breathed deeply of the dank air, warmed only slightly by the multitude of torches in their vain attempt to rid the cavern of shadow.
Those shadows, in the periphery of the room, frightened her, reminded her that although this room looked nothing like the dank, dark chamber she had feared her first year and ever since, it was still the same space, still haunted by the same ghosts and memories.
She gulped. Memories could do as much haunting as the most ferocious of ghosts.
She took one more timid step into the Chamber, shaking from the fear and weight of memory. And she heard two footfalls instead of one.
For the second time of her life, Ginny Weasley was sure she would not make it out of the Chamber of Secrets alive. She shivered with fear, looking around the room in search of whatever made the noise, and bit her lip. She had been a fool to think that seeing this room again would help her – it only made her terror more pronounced, only made things worse. "Tom?" she whispered, but no answer came. Nothing moved for a long moment, and a tear was sliding down her cheek when she sensed that something was going to happen soon and she turned and fled the Chamber, running all the way up the steps and out of the girls' bathroom.
But when she ducked to get under the ropes, she met a barrier, and was thrown back against the door in rebound. She touched the ropes with her wand. They didn't budge an inch. She was stuck, probably until Dumbledore saw fit to let her out, and the last thing she wanted was for the wise old professor to find out that she had gone against school rules and anyone's common sense to sneak back into the Chamber for a look around. She sank to the floor, hopelessly miserable.
Surely whatever was down there could come up this far and reach her. She wouldn't be safe until she was on the other side of the ropes, and that wasn't going to happen any time soon. She shivered in fear and huddled to the side, vaguely hoping that whatever it was would forget about her and leave her to her teachers' punishment. She couldn't think what it was. The floor towards the edges had been coated in a layer of dust and dirt, a film that even Dumbledore hadn't scrubbed away in his cleansing, and Ginny suddenly remembered that she had seen a figure in the corner, barely illuminated by the lights – a shape in the dust, of somebody's reclining form.
Someone asleep, for decades, perhaps. Enough time that the filth of the film would be cemented into their own body rather than the floor. She swallowed, hard. That was Tom's story – that he had been the thing to collect dust on the Chamber floor for so long. Ginny shook her head. Tom couldn't be telling the truth because were he telling the truth then he wasn't evil, and everyone who knew Tom Riddle knew he was evil. She heard a footstep and flinched before realising it didn't come from behind her, but rather from down the hallway.
The footsteps approached, and she realised it was whoever would punish her come to wreak vengeance for her rule breaking. She let out a dry sob, it was probably Filch come to find her. Merlin knew what kind of detention he would advocate – she had heard about the worst from her brothers although she rarely served a detention of her own. She looked down the corridor to meet her fate but the visage that presented itself was worse even than the Hogwarts caretaker. Much, much worse. Ginny shrank back in fear, hoping he wouldn't see her there.
"Ginny Weasley?" asked Tom, hurrying towards her with a very stern expression on his face. "What are you doing out this late? What are you doing here this late?" He stood on the other side of the barrier, looking down at her with intense suspicion. "You, of all people, should have no trouble abiding by Dumbledore's rule about this bathroom."
Slowly she climbed to her feet, wiping her tears. "I wanted to see what they'd done to it – I wanted to confront my fears. But now I'm stuck in here, I can't get past the rope."
Tom laughed lightly, and, pulling out his wand, whispered the words to some incantation. The ropes gently swung and Ginny, suddenly grateful, stepped over the nearest one and into the corridor. A soft pop went off a few seconds later and Ginny supposed that the barrier had come back. She said nothing, however. Somehow, the fact that Tom Riddle could get around an enchantment made by Dumbledore didn't surprise her very much. What surprised her even less was that he would, but that Dumbledore's protection would win out over time. But now that she was out of that precarious situation, she was confronted with another – Tom was staring at her with an expression even more stern than before. "What were you doing down here?"
Ginny blinked and wiped the tears from her cheeks before answering. Her knees shook, and she shivered from fright. Her days in the library had helped, but not much. Tom still looked like Tom, especially now in the cold night outside of the Chamber of Secrets. "I had some questions that hadn't been answered," she replied. She hoped her voice didn't waver too much.
"About?" he snapped.
"You." She was going to faint if his face didn't lighten, she was going to fall back into her worst nightmares...
Fortunately, Tom's face did soften, in shock, at her declaration. When he spoke, it was in a warm, confused whisper. "And?"
"Stay away from me, Tom," she said, voice as calm as she could muster, but she couldn't iron out all the wrinkles and trembles from the statement. His eyes darkened and his face stiffened, and he whirled away from her to stare at the wall down the corridor. He was furious.
"You know, I'll have to take points off for this," he announced, too loudly for the close quarters. Ginny worried that someone would hear.
"Yes," she said, softly. "Of course you will."
"And I'll have to tell Dumbledore where I saw you," his official manner and bearing were nothing like the concern she had seen flicker in his eyes only a few seconds before, but now that those eyes were averted from her own she found the strength to confront him, because more than anything she knew, she knew that Dumbledore must not find out about this.
"You won't," she began, quickly and tersely. "You won't because you had the same idea as me – you wanted to go down there too, that's why you're here."
Tom shook his head briskly and turned to face her, but chose a point a few inches above her head to concentrate on. "Of course not. The prefects patrol the halls after curfew, to make sure students like you don't go wandering about and get in trouble, as you almost did."
Ginny frowned for a moment and then smirked. "I would believe that," she began, "Were Amelia ever out of the dormitory for patrol duty. But she isn't. You're lying." Ginny even laughed at that. "No, Tom, prefects don't patrol the halls at night. The only person doing that is Filch."
And with that, a soft meowing came from the other end of the hallway. The smile vanished from Ginny's face and was replaced with a look of terror as she saw Mrs. Norris padding her way down towards them. Her eyes flashed to Tom. He looked as frightened as she did – confirming her statement that he was just as at fault as she. Looking towards the nearest door, she leapt over the barrier and pulled Tom back into the girls' bathroom.
"You can do that spell to get us out again, right?" she whispered when they were huddled near the door, listening for Filch.
Tom rolled his eyes. "Unfortunately, yes."
Filch was outside whispering, and Ginny's heart almost stopped beating before he left the area, Mrs. Norris following closely behind. "Good," she said, ignoring Tom's remark, and turned towards the doorway, again pulling Tom out before Moaning Myrtle caught sight of him and made a stink. To think about it, Myrtle was mysteriously absent. Usually she was much noisier. Ginny, however, didn't question that, rather shutting the door softly behind them while Tom whispered the incantation again and stepped over the barrier. Ginny followed quickly before the dull pop registered that the barrier was once again in place.
"You can't tell Dumbledore anything," she asserted, looking him straight in the eye with as much confidence as she could muster, "you've been in there too."
Tom's face was closed, rigid in anger. He sighed angrily and looked ready for violence, but Ginny stood her ground. "Fine, but get back to your common room immediately, Ginny Weasley. Just because I can't punish you for it just yet doesn't mean it's allowed. And I am taking points for being outside of the common areas past curfew."
"You'll have to take it from Slytherin too," Ginny insisted. Perhaps this was going too far, but she was on a roll now and she wasn't looking in Tom's eyes, so she had to try. Something of Fred and George must have been passed down to her, because while she wouldn't have minded points being taken in the slightest, really, she found the thrill of bluffing and tricking her way into a pristine record to be more interesting than actually having one. And now that Tom wasn't looking at her, he was no different than the multitude of other prefects she had convinced into not taking points or assigning detentions in the past.
A moment of silence weighed heavily on Ginny. She could hardly breathe from the anticipation of the outcome of her bluff. Tom, however, made no reply, instead striding towards the Slytherin dungeons, a foul expression on his face.
Ginny hurried to the Gryffindor Tower, her heart racing and her breath coming too fast. For all her bravado in insisting that there be no punishment for sneaking out like that, she knew that she was incredibly lucky it was Tom and not another prefect who had found her. Another prefect wouldn't have known the spell to get her out, another prefect wouldn't be so caught up in fairness that he couldn't take points off of Gryffindor without taking them from Slytherin for the same reason, and so ambitious that five points would have that strong an effect on his decision. No, Tom was the only prefect who could have saved her from that, probably the only person. Which made her even more confused about the supposed resolution she had come to by creeping down into her past. She had resolved to cut all ties with the boy, to deny his existence totally. She couldn't stay in this half-and-half state forever, and Tom Riddle could do no good.
But he had saved her and he hadn't taken a single point off of Gryffindor for her transgression. That certainly qualified as 'good' in most people's books. Still, somehow, she couldn't cope with the fact that Tom Riddle wasn't evil. She was amazed at the confidence she had shown when talking to him, the very thought of the conversation as she walked towards her common room sent shivers up her spine and made her knees knock in fear. But somehow she managed to reach the common room on her own, and she sank into bed quietly so as not to disturb any of her classmates.
Tom, on the other hand, was ready to cause a scene. A disturbance was just what he needed to clear his mind, because Ginny Weasley obviously didn't trust him in the slightest – why else would she be sneaking around into the Chamber to get 'answers' about him when he was almost universally present and ready to answer any questions she had? Ginny Weasley didn't trust him. Not only that, but Ginny Weasley was proving a ruthless and effective adversary. She knew exactly what to do and how to do it to ensure that there were no consequences whatsoever for sneaking out like that, although she knew for a fact that it was against school rules. She knew how to play off his weaknesses, not by pleading their tenuous friendship, but by appealing to his ambition and the necessity for justice. She viewed him as an adversary, not a confidante.
And yet, she had saved him from being caught by Filch, had spoken to him like any normal person, and had even stood up to him and demanded that he remain true to the path he had chosen, things that only good friends would do. She was almost maddening – saying that they should stop speaking to each other when it was obvious she was grateful for his help in Potions and didn't give him the cold shoulder on any occasion, insisting on calling him Tom which in and of itself was a statement of her mistrust while still talking to him and treating him like a human being. Her brother and that bloody Harry Potter thought he was the devil incarnate – he could tell from the not very hidden looks they sent him as he sat next to their bushy haired friend in Defence class, and they were the only other people impolite enough to call him Tom.
Although with Ginny he would hardly call it impolite. Rather, it was simply true.
Because after all, he was Tom Marvolo Riddle, not Ophicus Serpens Marvolo, and that was the truth.
But all the same, Ginny Weasley maddened him. He approached the Slytherin dungeon with increasing frustration and nearly stormed his way into the dormitory, but he remembered himself just outside and was able to sneak in without waking Draco or any of his other loathed classmates. Frustrated with the world and every creature in it, Tom Riddle fell asleep with one thought on his mind: he was going to understand Ginny Weasley, if it was the last thing he did.