Chapter XXV: Get Out

"Check," Malfoy smugly declared. Neville didn't seem to be completely out of the game just yet, as shielding his king was easy enough, but he was clearly on the back foot; Malfoy had forced him to defend, and the defence was being slowly but surely consumed. Harry didn't know whether that was bad, or terrible, he just knew it wasn't good. The funny thing was, it didn't matter if Neville lost, only that he didn't lose too quickly; all the while Malfoy was focused on the game, his attention was drawn away from the impostors surrounding him. The most dangerous threat to their plan was a proper conversation.

I need to slow this down, but I don't know enough about chess to… oh, that could work...

"Draco," he purred, putting on his best impression of an infatuated girl, which was to say a terrible impression of something he'd never witnessed first-hand. Not to mention he felt dirty doing it. "Would you talk me through the game? I want to get better at it, and you're playing so well…"

"If I tell you what I'm doing, Zabini can use it against me!" Malfoy protested.

That's the idea.

"Oh, but it's so obvious you're going to beat him. Please, Draco? I'll be ever so impressed when you win anyway."

Harry batted his eyelashes, but Malfoy missed it. From the look it put on Ginny's face, that was for the best. How am I meant to know what flirting looks like?

"Very well. No objections, Zabini?"

Neville simply shook his head as he studied the board, looking for the best way out of check.

"So currently I have him in check. There's no threat of mate, but he has to waste a turn getting out of it while I developed my bishop when I put him into it. That gives me the momentum - puts him a move behind. He can either move the king, getting it safe but preventing a castle later, or he can block with the pawn, which is the move I'm expecting as it isn't completely useless."

Harry thought he followed the logic well enough, even if he had no clue how any of it could be put into action. Maybe Hermione can teach me to play properly some time? Neville moved a pawn forward to block.

"Of course," Malfoy continued, "as I was expecting that, I also prepared my next move accordingly."

He had already moved a horse-piece before he finished his sentence.

"That splits his rook and pawn, so he has to move his rook or lose it. Alternatively, he could be an idiot and take my knight with his queen, but he won't."

Neville's hand had been hovering near his queen, but he removed it like it had been stung.

"Because he'd lose it?" Harry supplied, not being sure but figuring that was the obvious flaw.

"Yes, to my bishop, here."

The game slowed down after that, with Malfoy describing every move of each player and Neville allowing him plenty of time to do so before playing the recommended move, effectively having Malfoy play himself. Harry was rather chuffed with his idea, until Ginny went and one-upped him by coming up with something that could actually extricate them from the whole mess.

"I think I'm going to go find professor Snape. He'll want to know what the Weasleys were up to; maybe give them detentions," she suggested, with a malice against her brothers Harry suspected wasn't entirely faked.

"Alright," Harry agreed, catching on immediately. "If he needs to speak to myself and Zabini, come back and grab us. Extra witnesses and all."

"I'll be sure to," Ginny said, winking when Malfoy turned back to the game. "Good luck with the game Zabini."

Ginny obviously wasn't going to actually find Snape - instead she loitered in a dark corner just out of Malfoy's sight for a few minutes. Harry saw her slip into it, but was fairly sure no-one else had; the few older Slytherins dotted about had no interest in their younger fellows. As Malfoy pushed his queen forward with a triumphant cry of "checkmate", she reappeared.

"Hey, Pansy, Zabini, Snape wants to see all of us together," she called. "I think he's going to give them a detention for each of our reports."

"For the same incident?" Neville stammered; Harry hoped Malfoy would chalk his lack of composure up to his recent loss.

"Good, isn't it?" Ginny grinned. "Let's not keep him waiting," she beckoned.

She didn't have to ask twice; Harry and Neville were out of their chairs in moments, and at the door by the time they had made a half-hearted goodbye to Malfoy, who looked unimpressed to be left packing the chess pieces up by himself. Harry didn't feel at all sorry for him; he may not be the heir, but he was still a massive prick.

Spilling out into the dungeon corridor just outside Slytherin they let out a collective sigh of relief, Neville slumping against a wall as his knees started to visibly shake. Harry was vibrating as well, but out of a built-up tension, like an engine revving with the brakes on. Neville just looked scared.

"Come on," Ginny urged after a few seconds, "let's get out of here."

"Best idea I've heard all day," Harry agreed.

They were so close to freedom, at the last corner before leaving the umbral maze of the dungeon, when their best laid plans went awry. A male Slytherin student, possibly a fifth year, rounded the corner and stared at them like he'd seen his mother's ghost.

"What are you doing here?" he blurted out.

They drew to a stop in the corridor as they were passing, which was probably a mistake.

"Uh, we're Slytherins?" Ginny offered.

"No, not that. You three were just at the… how did you get here before me? I came straight… there aren't any other passages…"

Harry watched the cogs turning in the boy's head, and decided he didn't like where they were leading. Close as he was to the fresh air and safety of being above ground, his flight or fight reflex kicked in, and for once it opted for flight.

"Come on, places to be," he said through gritted teeth, grabbing Neville's arm and dragging him to the corner. Ginny took a few side steps after them, which wasn't conspicuous at all.

"Hey, stop!" the real Slytherin shouted, making to draw his wand, but Harry was at the corner and broke into a run, his friends only a pace behind him.

The boy shouted something else, a spell Harry thought, so he ducked and kept running. A magical light-blur whizzed overhead, dissipating harmlessly on the stairs in front of them which Harry mounted three at a time. A second spell splashed at his feet, causing his legs to tingle and tripping him up, but he caught himself in time and scarpered up the rest of the staircase on all fours.

Ginny and Neville were leaving him in the dust - are all girls' legs this slow? No wonder they always lost when Dudley played kiss-chase - but he made it to the top before their pursuer made the bottom stair. At the top was a T-junction; he instinctively broke left until Ginny caught him by the sleeve and pulled him to the right instead, hissing "wrong way!".

Together they charged down the corridor, scattering a cluster of young girls to the walls in a maelstrom of alarmed cries and dropped belongings. A glance over his shoulder told Harry they were still being pursued, and the boy was faster than any of them, but the girls were obstructing his aim so no more hexes flew yet. Another flight of stairs and two corners later the boy was almost on top of them, and Harry was flagging. Seemingly, years of malnutrition had left his real body in better shape than whatever Pansy had put hers through, because he knew he should have more in him, and it just wasn't there.

He was very glad when Ginny took note of his desperate huffing and failing pace, turned with her wand drawn, and hurled a bat-bogey hex over his shoulder. When he heard it strike true he was borderline ecstatic.

"Hey!" their pursuer spluttered, "what the- Blergh! What did- Eugh!"

Ginny pumped her fist in the air triumphantly, then kept running when Harry lumbered past her, leaving her at the back of the pack. A few spells came flying past from behind, but all missed wildly. Harry turned the next corner - how many damned corners does this castle have? - to see the unexpected sight of the Weasley twins holding a tapestry away from the wall like a tent flap, gesturing madly for Neville to run behind it. Madly, because behind it was a solid stone wall.

"Like nine and three quarters!" one shouted as Neville slowed up, sensibly choosing not to run into a wall when told to by the Weasley twins. Harry didn't feel half as much compulsion to stop and barrelled into Neville's back, trusting the twins not to screw him over at a time like this, and Neville's face to take the hit if they did. It wasn't a nice thought, but it helped him override his instinct to stop, so it got to stay. He could apologise later, if they didn't-

They went hurtling through the wall like it wasn't there, tumbling to the floor on the pitch black far side in a painful heap. Harry was just pushing himself up off Neville's back when a Theodore-sized projectile crashed into his own, turning the pile into a three person affair. Neville let out a pathetic wheezing groan from the bottom, Ginny breathed heavily in Harry's ear, and Harry became acutely aware that he was bodily sandwiched between two people.

"Please get off me," he whimpered.

"Sorry," she puffed, and rolled away with a thud and a groan as she hit the floor. Harry rolled the other way, and the three of them lay in darkness, gasping for air. A minute later, Harry was still panting when the twins stepped through casually, wands lit bright as the grins on their faces. No, not that bright; that would be blinding.

"Well, well, well, Freddie, lookie what we caught ourselves here."

"A merry band of troublemakers if ever I laid eyes upon one, Georgie."

Not the time for joking, Harry thought, his brain taking a moment to catch up with itself and accept that he was safe.

"Seems they're forever in our debt, wouldn't you say?" Fred speculated, tapping his chin.

"Undoubtedly."

"Oh shut it," Ginny snapped. "This doesn't make up for half what you put me through."

The twins stopped dead and peered at their sister.

"Gin?" George whispered, awestruck. "You look.. different."

"Don't start," she huffed.

"Start what? I was merely complimenting you on your new look."

"Yes, it's an improvement actually." Fred chipped in.

Fred deftly dodged the hex that flew his way, which was impressive considering he and his brother both were doubled over laughing at their own comedy. Harry probably would have laughed as well if his lungs could have taken it. Instead, they just burned.

"So, if you're our dear sister, who's the lovely lady with you?" George asked, pointing his wand at Harry.

"Take a guess," Harry sighed, "at whose luck is bad enough to end up in this."

"Oh, Harry, is there something you haven't been telling us?"

"Should we call you the Girl-Who-Lived from now on?" Fred offered.

"Eugh," Harry groaned, dreading that they might go around doing just that - as if the real nickname weren't bad enough already. "Ginny, can you hex him again?"

"Too tired," she mumbled. "Do it yourself."

Harry tried to lift his hand to retrieve his wand, but it lodged a complaint and he hadn't the motivation to push it. He doubted he could cast a decent spell in his state anyway.

"Too tired," he groaned. "Pansy does not exercise."

"I feel great," Neville contributed, sitting up and wiping a single drop of sweat from his brow. He patted his body down, spending inordinately long on his chest and biceps. "Can I keep it?"

Harry decisively ignored his friend's lack of discomfort, because it simply wasn't fair. Hermione was going to be hearing some choice words from him, once Ginny had finished with her.

"Hey," he said to the twins as a thought occurred to him, "how did you know we needed help? Or where we were? You were waiting for us before you even saw us."

"Ah," George muttered, spreading his hands wide apologetically, "trade secret I'm afraid."

Surprised, Harry was not, but he was a touch disappointed. His track record of coming to the rescue of others was hit and miss, so he would have appreciated any tips he could get.

"Highly confidential," Fred agreed.

"If we told you-"

"-we'd have to kill you."

"Or obliviate you."

"Or get an unbreakable vow that you wouldn't reveal our secret."

"Or just really like you."
"Or if you needed help with something really important."

"Or that."

The twins looked at each other and nodded in satisfaction, their list apparently complete. Harry tried to commit it to memory lest he need their help in the future; the way his life was he figured that a certainty.

"Well, thanks," he said lamely. "For the distraction, too."

"No worries, Harrikins."

"We're happy to help prank Slytherins-"

"-any time. Actually, we'd be insulted-"
"-if you didn't invite us to join in."

"I'll, uh, bear that in mind," Harry agreed, not wanting to find out what they did to people who insulted them.

He liked the twins, but a part of that was thanks to the string of unfortunate incidents that had befallen certain upper year Gryffindors since Halloween. Provoking their ire seemed inadvisable, or as Hermione would put it: Downright moronic.

"Where's Luna?" Neville asked out of the blue, which had Harry kicking himself for not noticing immediately; she was meant to be with the twins, helping with the distraction.

"Oh, she's keeping up the diversion while we came to save your arses."

"So she's with the Slytherins?" Ginny asked. "Alone?"

The twins shared a look that expressed the words 'oh shit' perfectly.

"Oops?"

"Well you'd best go get her," Neville ordered, uncharacteristically forcefully.

"I'll come with you," Harry declared, finally pushing himself to his protesting feet.

"Uh, Harry… You're still Pansy," Ginny reminded him, although he didn't need it. "When they see you…"

"Whoever said," Harry replied, pulling his invisibility cloak from his robe pocket and swirling it to rest over his head, "they were going to see me?"

Really, was I ever not going to bring this thing on an infiltration mission? Sure, Hermione had to remind me to pick it up, and I completely forgot about it when looking for a way to get away from Malfoy, and in the chase, but…

"Ruddy hell, Harry, how'd you pull that off?" George exclaimed, waving his wand about as though moving the light might reveal something.

"Trade secret, I'm afraid," Harry shot back, dodging back to avoid Fred's hand searching the air for him.

"Ooh, he's good," Fred whispered.

"Very good," his brother agreed.

"What about us?" Neville enquired more calmly, having heard about the cloak before, though Harry couldn't remember showing it to him. "Are we meant to just sit here until the juice wears off?"

"What a marvellous idea Nev," George aid, clapping him on the shoulder approvingly. "Yes. Sit tight, and don't get caught. First rule of proper pranking."

"You too sis - or should that be bruv?" Fred added with a mocking eyebrow wiggle.

"If Luna wasn't waiting on you, you'd be so dead," she hissed back. "So, get a move on!"

The twins hustled out of the hidden room, chased as far as the fake wall by their irate sister and her jabbing wand. Harry slipped out just behind them, barely avoiding losing an eye in the fracas. The corridor was empty, their pursuer having moved on in search of them or given up, so the twins struck up a conversation again.

"So, Harrikins… Luna said you'd be polyjuiced, but she neglected to mention why. Care to enlighten us?"

"And why are you Parkinson?"

"Ugh, don't remind me. That's Hermione's fault, you see she…

Ginny had sat with Neville for quite some time now, talking about a lot of nothing as they waited for the polyjuice to wear off. It was strange watching Zabini's face pulling expressions that were so quintessentially Neville - shy downward glances and suffering grimaces for the most part. His nervousness was the main reason she wasn't a close friend, not his gender as was the case with her dormmates who didn't speak to the boys because boys were gross, useless, and mean; Ginny had six older brothers, so she knew better. Even if Ron did conform to the stereotype far too well some days.

That wasn't to say she disliked Neville in any way; how could you? It would be like hating a puppy. And the more she talked to him about the aspects of his life he was comfortable mentioning (she knew from the grapevine what his parents had been put through, and quickly garnered his gran wasn't a pleasant woman) the more she started to actively like him. There seemed to be a Gryffindor lurking somewhere under the surface; he expressed a desire to be bold and outgoing, and a deep self-loathing for all the times he failed under pressure. He even talked about quidditch, and enjoyed watching it, despite his outright refusal to ever mount a broom again.

Ginny kept the observation that he hadn't properly mounted one to begin with to herself.

I wonder what Tom would think of him, she thought before kicking herself mentally. We don't think about him.

Neville was telling her, in a roundabout way that made all involved sound entirely innocent, about the time his uncle had thrown him off a pier trying to provoke his accidental magic into showing itself.

I'd like to throw Tom off a pier. See how he worms his way back from that one.

She wouldn't, of course. Tom was just a book, and so long as she never opened him again he couldn't control her any more. She'd keep him close, as he was in that moment, stuffed under her robes, so he couldn't sink his hooks into anyone else. And one day, when she figured out how to explain the things she had already done, she'd tell someone about him and get rid of him for good.

It would be so much easier to figure that out with his help. He was always so helpful, even when he made her do... Things. He'd isolated Harry from his friends, which was his idea for pushing them closer together, and that only backfired when Hermione messed it all up by being there first. Not her fault for being a good friend, but come on... He'd gotten rid of pushy little fanboy Colin Creevey, not permanently - oh, how she'd had to beg for the boy's life. How much easier her life would have been if she just let Tom do things the way he wanted.

She shook her head, trying to dislodge the thoughts from her mind, but they were pervasive as always, as if some dark corner of her head no longer belonged to her. It was easier to think that, actually, because otherwise everything she'd done was entirely on her.

"You ok Ginny?" Neville asked.

Ginny jolted back to the conversation, and found that he was staring at her oddly. What's the matter, she thought angrily, never seen a girl lost in thought before? Next he wold be asking to look in the diary she was lovingly turning in her hands - when did it get there?

"Wierd looking book, isn't that?"

"There's nothing weird about the diary!" she snapped, far too quickly, and he narrowed his eyes suspiciously right away.

"What'd you bring your diary for?"

"None of your business."

"Alright, jeez, just curious," he conceded as she tucked it safely away.

No way could she have Neville getting his hands on Tom. He didn't have it in him to fight off the allure.

Neither did I, she mused treacherously. And wouldn't it be so easy to just put the book in Neville's hands, and wipe my own of it? Easy to blame it all on the quiet kid; catch him in the act, even. Walk away completely off the hook.

Horror warred with temptation in her mind, as it did most nights, and it must have shown on her face.

"Really, Ginny, is something wrong?"

"I-" she started to dismiss him, then stopped as another thought occurred to her.

He could help. Neville could help her. Well, not Neville per say, but his gran was a woman of considerable clout and a long life of knowledge. She might know what the diary really was, and be able to save Ginny from it.

All she had to do was get the words out of a mouth that had clamped itself shut. How do you tell your friend it was you who got their classmate petrified, their friends vilified, and let them walk into the snake pit when you knew it was for nothing? Tom would probably know. She should ask him for- No! No more Tom!

"Help me," she mumbled, so quiet she feared Neville wouldn't catch it, knowing she wouldn't be able to repeat it if he didn't.

"With what?" he asked, leaning in with clear concern.

"Diary. Talks back," she drawled, failing full sentences as her tongue tried to tie itself in knots.

"Your diary talks back to you? Wicked!"

"Don't know how."

She had tried to say don't know why, but she did really. Tom had an agenda she herself had written on the wall in foot-high letters of blood.

"And you want help? With figuring it out?"

She could only nod.

"Oh, umm, I don't know much about... well, about magic really. But gran would know... I know! I'll write her a letter about it!"

Yes! Oh please Merlin yes, let Madame Longbottom come and see the diary for what it was, and take it away and destroy the damned thing, and then she could ask Ginny what really happened, and she could say she was the one who did all those nasty things, and they would probably lock her in Azkaban forever for what she'd done.

On second thought, Madame Longbottom wasn't the person she wanted involved at all. She didn't want anyone involved; not now; not yet. She wasn't ready yet. But she had just set Neville on a course she couldn't go down, and she needed to stop him. It was a really bad time for her anxiety to team up with her treacherous corner and lock her lips up completely. She shook her head furiously, but Neville wasn't looking; he was staring down at his own body, as it slowly and uncomfortably became his original body.

Odd sensations of tingling and warping shot through her own flesh, and she joined him in a fit of light spasms and groans as the polyjuice wore off.

"Hey, brill! Let's go find Harry!" Neville cried, jumping to his feet.

Ginny jumped up too, desperate to grab him, stop him, communicate her change of heart in some way, but he just took her hand and dragged her out of the secret room, bubbling with enthusiasm. Of all the times for Neville to be confident, he had picked the worst.

If I can't bring myself to tell him, she thought, couldn't I show him? I'll take him to Myrtle's bathroom, show him the entrance, and he'll run straight to Dumbledore, not his Gran. Mum and dad say Dumbledore is a good man; he wouldn't send me to Azkaban. Would he? Would it even be his choice?

Still, with no other choice presenting itself, she took control of their direction and started toward Myrtle's. Neville made some spluttered, unverbalised protest.

"Bathroom," was all she said in reply, which shut him up and stopped his pulling.

All the way there she fought with herself. What is Dumbledore going to think? What will mum and dad say? What is Tom going to do when he finds out I betrayed him?

He won't find out.

Except he already had, because he was in her head, no matter how hard she tried to tell herself it wasn't true. Strangely, he was silent as she led her friend to his secret. As he allowed her to lead him. How could she have forgotten the hold he had over her? How had she forgotten that he could take control at any time, make her do those terrible things and convince her afterwards that it had been her.

She tried to stop, to scream out for help as he slithered into her mind, but it was hopeless; he was already holding the reins, she was merely a passenger in her own body. her pace quickened, and she understood his goal as though it were her own. As though it had always been her own. Hadn't it?

At the bathroom she placed him against a wall like a mannequin, and entered alone. With one last ditch effort she fought for control of her body, and for a moment she clutched the edge of a stall, halting her progress towards... Towards some goal she didn't quite remember. It had been so clear, she was sure, but a moment later...?

Was I fighting myself? Why would I do that? I obviously need to get to the sink, probably to clean these tears from my face. Yes, that must be it. I'll clean myself up, and then I can go and tell Tom about how silly I am to have forgotten that he was forcing me to-

Tom's presence slammed back into her mind, taking the last of her confounded resistance entirely by surprise. She stumbled, then strode, to the sinks, and whispered in a sibilant tongue her tongue did not know. The sink folded back and opened before her, as she knew and dreaded that it would, and she called out with a hiss to her beautiful, hideous monster. A desperate urge to flee rose, promising to overpower the compulsion, but Tom was too clever; he allowed her to turn away, to run to the door, then held her there, still as a deer in the headlights, as the sound of the great beast drew close. A low hiss told her it had arrived, and that it was rearing up, eager to be let loose.

Her hand tugged at the door, and swung it open. She screwed her eyes shut.

"What took you so-"

"No!" she cried - hissed? - in a brief moment of control. "Stop!"

Tom sent a pain lancing through her head - punishment for using his powers against his will - but Ginny gritted her teeth and pushed out one last command.

"Retreat."

The monster hissed so deeply she felt it in her chest, and she didn't need to know its language to understand the anger, but it did as commanded. Ginny opened one eye, fearful of Neville's ire, and infinitely more afraid he hadn't survived to lay it upon her. When she saw his body on the floor, Tom rejoiced, floating back to his corner of her mind, and she forgot instantly the extent of his power as she screamed.

She was still screaming when they found her, crouched over Neville, tugging at his stiff arms. Begging to every god she'd ever heard of for him to be ok, to come back to her and tell her it was alright; that he didn't blame her; that she hadn't killed him. She refused to let go as they carried him to the infirmary; refused to let her penal suffering end until Madam Pomfrey assured her he was only petrified and forced a calming draught down her throat.