The Difficulties of Avoidance
by dead2self
A/N: This chapter wrote itself pretty quickly, and although I'm not entirely pleased with its pacing - here you go!
Ginny had not forgotten the origins of the rumor concerning Luna and Harper, and she took full advantage of the newfound information. The next few days she spoke about Tom a bit louder than usual, and enjoyed all sorts of uproarious rumors as a result. If Luna suspected Ginny's intentions, she did not say anything. In the end, rumors including Ginny in a love triangle with the Head Boy and Girl shut her up. She need not have worried; the headlines of the Daily Prophet at breakfast soon overtook the attention of the entire school.
"You'd think Dumbledore died just for spite! All this rot about disrupting classes…" Ginny grumbled to Colin Creevey. Colin was reading the article over her shoulder, his mouth growing thinner as he went.
"Do you think Professor McGonagall really said this?" he asked, pointing to a quote. Ginny glanced over it again, her stomach clenching: "In the wake of Dumbledore's… death, yes, it has been difficult to sufficiently teach."
"Not a chance," Ginny clucked. "You know McGonagall. It's just fourth year all over again. The Ministry wants control over the school because they're scared. They'll say anything." Recalling her conversation with McGonagall about sending letters, she half-wondered if it was just the Ministry.
Indeed, the scathing article about academic instability at Hogwarts following Dumbledore's death did its best to undercut McGonagall's temporary post as Headmistress, calling for different, "more steady" leadership. Ginny could hardly think of a person who better embodied steadiness, and had half a mind to write the editor herself. Still, it was hard to direct all her frustration straight at the article when it was Harper who featured most prominently in it. Now that Dumbledore was dead, he seemed to have no problem criticizing the former Headmaster's policies. Foremost on his list was Dumbledore's lenient treatment of students carousing after hours and flouting new discipline regimens. Ginny had no illusions about whom he was speaking.
Across the table, Dennis was paging through their copy of the Prophet. Colin asked for hers and he started reading from the back page of the newspaper. He was quick to point out Bill and Fleur's wedding announcement to her.
"Yeah, they're having it over Easter break and I got permission to leave school. I wanted to kill Fleur for forgetting about my N.E.W.T.s but, 'it eez such a beautiful time of zee year'."
"I take it the sabotaging didn't work then?" chuckled Colin.
"No," groaned Ginny. "What's worse is now Mum loves her too, after Bill—" She cut off, remembering stomping on Riddle's fingers at undoubtedly the same time that Fleur finally won over her mother. It was not a night she wanted to talk about just yet, least of all with Colin. She offered him a light shrug. "Well, she's alright, I guess. They've stuck together this long."
Dennis squeaked suddenly and his head emerged over his unfurled paper.
"Did you see this bit?" he asked, turning around the paper to a picture of Diagon Alley that looked not quite right. Frowning, Ginny leaned closer and she realized that it looked emptier than she had ever seen it. And Ollivander's shop was boarded up.
"What happened?" she asked, ripping her newspaper out of Colin's hands to read it herself.
"It looks like Y-You-Know-Who got Mr. Ollivander," Dennis gulped. Looking up, Ginny saw that he was white. It was strange; being around the Order meant that Voldemort had always been at the forefront of her mind. She did not hear a lot, but sometimes she overheard little things when she was home, like a wizard disappearing or Remus tracking a werewolf. She forgot that for everyone else, Voldemort seemed to have vanished for nearly three years.
Ginny noticed that the Creevey brothers were fixated on her, like she was the one with answers, and she hastened to leave. Stuffing her newspaper haphazardly into her bag, she eyed Harper standing up at the Slytherin table. His focus was on Luna, but Ginny got to her first, looping her friend's arm and manhandling her out of the Great Hall.
"You need to read this," she said, poking at the newspaper. Out of loyalty to the family business, Luna did not subscribe to the Prophet.
"I already did," said Luna. Her voice betrayed a slight tremor, one that surprised Ginny until she realized it might be anger. Luna's face was pink. "Orla Quirke let me borrow her copy. Thomson Harper is the most insufferable boy I have ever met."
"No arguments here. But we need to talk." Something about Ollivander's boarded store had rattled her, as had the white faces of students around her as they remembered that they were at war. Quickly, she recounted her meeting with Slughorn. Luna stayed quiet throughout, listening carefully.
"He can't know anything about… you know," she said when Ginny was through. "He can't have. It seems to me that he wanted information about the Order."
Ginny felt a surge of pride for her friend – for surely this was the case. Luna saw through people with such clarity; how could she be wrong?
"Do you think he's a—" Ginny glanced about them and lowered her voice. "A Death Eater?"
Luna twisted a strand of hair around her wand and bit her lip. "I don't think he seems the type, but we cannot be sure."
"I'll talk to McGonagall. I have to talk with her about my N.E.W.T.s anyhow. She should know that he's asking about the Order."
Luna nodded. "What about you? What will you do?"
Lost, Ginny shot a quizzical glance at her. "What about me?"
"Your potions essay. You shouldn't give Slughorn any more reasons to talk to you. Do you need any help?"
For a split second, Ginny's heart lurched. She had turned in the essay – her rewrite of Riddle's comical essay – and it had promptly slipped from her mind. Ginny pictured Luna's numerous potions accidents – her hair had grown back, but she had sported that rough haircut well into Christmas holiday – and decided that having her as a partner was enough of a trial. "I've got it worked out," she answered. "I've already got the essay rewritten."
But Luna was right. If she wanted to keep out of Slughorn's crosshairs, she needed to do more than hand in a brilliant essay.
"You did not hold up your end of the deal," Ginny announced when she dropped Riddle's food on the table that night.
"Oh?" Riddle picked up a dinner roll and even his chewing looked humored.
"That's right. Our deal was that I would give you the book if you wrote the essay and explained it to me. Don't think you're getting out of it."
"I only hoped that you were releasing me from the obligation."
"Not likely," she answered, hefting Advanced Potion-Making onto the table and taking a seat next to it. She caught him eying it and retorted, "I'm sorry I don't have it memorized."
"Nor do I," said Riddle, flipping through the first few pages. "This has been edited since my time." Joining her on the floor, he began scanning the book in earnest.
"Don't get distracted, Riddle. We need to talk about poisons."
"Delightful," he said as Ginny tugged the book away and turned to the appropriate section.
"Antidotes," she clarified. "We've been working with Golpalott's Laws. You said Laws couldn't change, right?"
"Indeed. Golpalott's Laws have held true since the mid-fifteenth century when they were composed." His mouth turned down in clear disapproval that she did not know this, but an interesting change in his voice turned Ginny's head. It had taken on an upward tilt, an effect that left it more neutral than contemptuous. The distaste was still there, but dampened.
Curious, Ginny pulled out the spare essay, riddled with spelling errors, and spread it between them. Tamping down the corners with odds and ends from her bag, she launched into what was her understanding of the essay's argument. She had gotten not three inches into the essay before Riddle was correcting her for insignificant technicalities, each one attached to an attack on her intelligence. As she ground her teeth in silence, she reasoned that she had imagined the change.
Ginny got one foot farther before Riddle brushed her off entirely and launched into a lengthy explanation of inverse poisons. She sat up straighter then, because his neutral tone was back. While he was talking about potions, he was not insulting her or plotting murder behind his eyes. He was just talking. It was only when she forgot to listen and could not repeat the theory when his lip curled at her and he bemoaned the impossibility of teaching her anything. Ginny sniped back, insinuating teaching might not be his gift, but in the end she understood the essay.
Ginny was rightly smug. She was not bad at Potions, after all; she was just busy.
"Well that's our deal finished," she said, stretching her hands high over her head when they were done.
"Finally," drawled Riddle.
Ginny rolled her eyes and gathered up her potions manual and spare inkwells from the table. She felt the beginnings of a headache and was starting to wonder if losing Slughorn's interest would be worth doing this on a regular basis – if she could convince Riddle at all.
"You can't expect to fool this Potions master on your own." Ginny jumped and stared up at him. Riddle had perched on the edge of his chair, balancing carefully so he would not sink into the plush.
"I'm not hopeless at Potions, Riddle. I got an Exceeds Expectations on my OWL, didn't I?" The words tumbled out before she could stop them, and immediately Ginny felt foolish. He was offering exactly what she wanted.
"Be reasonable, Weasley." His eyes were dark and he stared straight at her for the first time that night. "It's the least I can do after causing you such an inconvenience."
His tone ran a shudder up her spine, so she stood. Height felt like leverage. "What do you want?"
"A small favor. The chair."
Ginny noted the patches in the fabric and recalled that Riddle hated that chair. Easy enough. "Deal. What can I do about the chair?"
"Give me your wand."
Ginny drew her wand if only to be sure it was in her hand. "It wasn't funny last time, Riddle."
Riddle's face twisted into something ugly and he rose too. "I can't kill you under your precious Headmaster's crooked nose and even if I did, it's not as if I could produce your Patronus to leave the Room. I just want to fix the damn chair."
"No. I'm good at Transfiguration. Just tell me what kind of chair you want."
Riddle glared until it was clear Ginny would not step down. Finally, with an air of resignation, he ground out, "Wooden, high backed."
Ginny Transfigured the chair, although the first attempt was pronounced "too rickety" by Riddle, and the second "too short" for his long legs. She re-Transfigured the chair to his specifications until Riddle sat down in the chair, scowling, but unable to find any more specific faults.
"What is it now?" Ginny seethed, gripping her wand more tightly in an attempt to keep from hexing him. A visit this long was taxing her restraint.
Riddle clutched the armrests of the plain brown chair. "It is just too ordinary for my taste."
"It's a chair, Riddle, all you have to do is sit in it. I'm sorry I don't have enough time to make it aesthetically pleasing for you too." When he would not reply, Ginny huffed and shot off her Patronus.
"Leave the Potions manual," he said, holding out a hand. "I need to acquaint myself with new developments to be of any use." When she hesitated, he gave her a nasty conspiratorial grin. "I'll tell Lovegood I swiped it from your bag."
"She'll get you your own if you'd just ask," said Ginny, and Luna's rabbit unlocked the door. She tossed him the book.
"I fixed his chair," she sighed when Luna asked what had taken so long.
"Oh that's brilliant!" Luna cried. "Did he ask you to?"
"Yeah, he did."
"See, Ginny? Little steps at a time!"
Ginny nodded weakly and complained of a headache to escape to Gryffindor Tower. In the morning, Luna emerged from the Room of Requirement carrying Ginny's Potions manual.
"He asked for a book!" Luna crowed. "Well, he stole yours first, but I'm going to get him his own."
"That's great, Luna!" Ginny answered, keeping her smile straight as she tucked her book into her bag.
"And he seemed quite satisfied with his chair, though I can't imagine it's comfortable."
Feeling a surprising amount of pride, Ginny showed it with a shrug. "I just did what he wanted."
Luna and Ginny split ways for breakfast and Ginny was walking to class with Gregory Jones when a commotion in the Entrance Hall arrested their attention. A crate rested by the door and Madam Pince stood nearly nose-to-nose with a wizard in Ministry robes, waving a book in agitation. Dumbledore winked at the gathering students from its cover.
"I will not tolerate this—this drivel!" cried Madam Pince. "I don't care if the Ministry wants to donate a million copies. As long as I am librarian, this travesty of a biography will not touch the shelves of Hogwarts' library!" And then to the shock of every student milling in the Great Hall, Madam Pince waved her wand at the crate of books, crying, "Incendio!"
Ginny let out a cheer as Madam Pince cast the remaining copy onto the fire, while the Ministry wizard scrambled out of the castle. Some students, however, watched Madam Pince mount the stairs back to the library like she was stark mad.
"What was that about?" asked Gregory.
"Must be Rita Skeeter's new book. And if I know her, it's a load of lies."
Unfortunately, Madam Pince's actions assured that Rita Skeeter's The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore arrived at Hogwarts in droves by owl post the next morning. Ginny blanched at a copy at the Ravenclaw table over Luna's shoulder when McGonagall approached her from the Head Table.
"Is this true Professor?" Ginny called. "The bit about Dumbledore and Muggles?"
The question arrested McGonagall mid-step and her brow dipped sharply. "Certainly not," the professor huffed. "Rita Skeeter has skewed the details significantly." Her features softened as she realized she commanded the attention of the entire Ravenclaw table and some nearby Hufflepuffs. "Many years ago, in a moment of personal distress, Professor Dumbledore shared with me some of his family history. No man is perfect, Miss Weasley, but I assure you that the Headmaster learned from his mistakes. There never was a more tireless advocate for Muggle rights. People would do well to remember that rather than place too much trust in Miss Skeeter's flawed account." She leveled a strict gaze down the length of the Ravenclaw table, and then returned her attention to Ginny.
"Miss Weasley, our appointment to discuss your N.E.W.T. progress will be tomorrow following your final class. Do not dally on your way." Professor McGonagall swept away, leaving murmurs about Dumbledore in her wake. For her part, Ginny took the professor at her word and pronounced the biography rubbish to anyone who would listen.
During Potions, Luna kindly acted as a buffer between Ginny and Slughorn. They left class with another essay due in a few days time, and Ginny had the makings for another Potions lesson with Riddle. She was determined to identify what triggered his somewhat civil behavior.
That night, she gave Riddle his dinner and immediately spread her Potions notes before them on the table. She sat on the floor and Riddle sneered at her from his new, wooden chair.
"Quite the taskmaster, Weasley. Can't I eat first?"
Ginny waved him on with a roll of her eyes. He ate in silence, and once she had unnecessarily organized her notes twice, she watched him. His hair had gotten long. It fell in his eyes and straggled down his back – he was nearly unrecognizable from her first year. If any of her brothers had shown up at the Burrow like that, her mother would have had a fit. At least Bill kept his trimmed.
As she stared at Riddle, quite without meaning to, she made a pair of scissors appear on the table. Riddle noticed them when she did and raised an eyebrow. "Odd choice of weapon, but then you are a blood traitor."
Ignoring him, Ginny snatched them up and moved behind him. "Hold still. I can't stand this anymore; I'm giving you a haircut." She ran her fingers through his hair, judging the length, and was hit with a strong reminder of Harry that she pushed stubbornly away.
"Who do you think I have to impress in here?" Without answering, Ginny took a chunk of hair, ran it through her fingers, and started snipping the ends.
"What are you doing to it? It's fine how it was."
"Do you want to look like you're from this decade? Stop squirming or I'll—oops." A chunk of hair rather larger than she had intended drifted to the ground and Tom made to stand up.
"That's it; get out Weasley!"
"I've cut my brothers' hair for ages! I wouldn't mess up if you didn't keep moving about!" She placed her hands on his shoulders and shoved him roughly back into the seat. "Sit still and I'll fix it."
When she was done it was shorter than she had intended, but Ginny was pleased with herself. She walked around in front of him and leaned in to survey her work, absently brushing some of the hair clippings from his face. Riddle sneered at the sudden touch and, when she realized what she had done, Ginny recoiled as well.
"I-It looks fine," she stammered. "We won't have to cut it again for awhile."
"Please restrain yourself, Weasley," Riddle hissed. "Perhaps Potter could stomach you, but I don't tend toward filth."
"The purity references are getting a little tired, Riddle. You can thank me that you no longer look like a homeless lay-about." She Vanished the hair clippings from the ground. "And now we can call us even for the next Potions lesson."
"I did not agree to this."
"Then call it a favor. I honestly couldn't look at you any longer with your hair like that."
Tom narrowed his eyes at her and then lowered himself to the floor. "Very well. Shall we begin?" This time she allowed him to launch straight into a lecture on antidotes for combined poisons. She found that when she interrupted less and let him recite tiresome facts, he adopted the less predatory tone. Now, however, she detected a strain of superiority in it. Perhaps he fancied himself a good teacher. Watching him lecture with a stray clipping still clinging to his cheek, she supposed he was. Until she opened her mouth and he was back to being an insufferable git.
Ginny left the Room of Requirement bursting to tell Luna that she was getting better at this Riddle thing, and ran headlong into a figure standing with their back to the door.
"Merlin's beard!" yelped Harper, spinning around so quickly that Ginny nearly got a wand to the eye.
"Merlin's beard yourself!" Ginny cried, slapping the wand away from her face.
"Where did you come from?" Harper was casting about the corridor and for a terrifying moment Ginny wondered if he had heard the door open or click shut. What if he felt for the invisible handle?
"Just around the corner!" she said, trying to sound blasé. "Come off it, Harper; I'm with Luna, aren't I?"
Harper went a nasty hue of red, and he stowed his wand in his robes before stabbing a finger at Luna. "This is precisely what I mean. It has gone on for far too long. You can't keep flouting rules."
"I am not flouting rules," said Luna. "Dumbledore didn't mind." The candlelight made Luna look pale, and her eyes bulged. Ginny wondered suddenly if they had already been fighting while she was in the Room.
"We'll see about that, Lovegood. Things are going to change around here!"
"I do not understand why you insist on being the most restrictive, single-minded, dull boy I have ever met! As little as it matters, you will never go down in history as Hogwart's greatest Head Boy by calling bullying discipline."
"You—are—deliberately—breaking—rules. You are flinging filth in the face of tradition! For Merlin's sake, Lovegood, every time I talk to you, you're making up some new Mystical Creature!"
"Just because you're so narrow-minded—"
"Get her back to Gryffindor Tower, do your patrol, and – so help me – turn your badge right-side-up," he thundered. Sweeping away, he left Luna breathing through her nose with eyes so wide that she truly did look maddened.
"Loony, loony, Luna!" cried a voice above their heads, followed by a loud raspberry.
"Shove off, Peeves," said Ginny, stirred into action. She collected Luna by the shoulders and steered her toward the tower. Somehow it no longer seemed like the right moment to crow over her progress with Tom. By the next morning, however, Luna had tapped down any anger and when she drifted out of the Room of Requirement, commented on Tom Riddle's new haircut.
"That was me," said Ginny. "I just thought it needed to be done." The words had barely escaped her mouth when what had been peculiar the night before came into full focus. "Oh, bloody hell," she breathed, catching Luna by the arm. "I cut Riddle's hair. I made a pair of scissors appear. It was like during the DA, when I needed a book or Harry needed a whistle. They just appeared."
Luna's mouth formed into a thoughtful 'o' and then she bobbed her head. "The Room must not be frozen anymore. I think I suspected this would happen"
"What if it works for Riddle?"
"I haven't seen anything new show up, have you?"
Neither girl had, but they nevertheless agreed to search Riddle's room thoroughly that night and in the future. Classes passed without incident (although Gregory did manage to put a ball of paper through Professor Binns shoulder without him noticing), depositing Ginny outside her Head of House's office.
When Ginny entered her office, McGonagall handed her a letter from her family, which she tucked into her bag for later. "Your brother is back on his feet and good as new, Miss Weasley," her professor reported. "He has a new, untidy affinity for raw meat, but that has been taken well in hand by Miss Delacour."
Ginny could imagine her mother's horror, and grinned. "Can't wait to see him. Thanks Professor."
"Additionally, I have arranged for you to Floo home for your brother's wedding in a few weeks' time. The Order has also prepared a backup Portkey in the event that the Floo network becomes compromised before that time.
"As for the business at hand, I have reports from all your professors, Miss Weasley. You seem to be managing well, though a bit distracted." Ginny's heart sank until McGonagall eyed her over the papers. "That is to be expected, of course, in light of recent events. The only concern comes from Professor Slughorn, who says that your performance has dipped and improved dramatically."
Remembering her talk with Luna, Ginny quickly relayed her conversation with Slughorn and their concerns that he might be fishing for information about the Order. McGonagall's brow furrowed into a single line.
"Thank you Miss Weasley. I am aware of Professor Slughorn's inquisitiveness, though I am shocked that he would attempt to glean information from a student. I will speak to him, but you would do well to avoid him in the future."
"Do you think he's working with You-Know-Who?" asked Ginny.
"Heavens, no! Horace a Death Eater—why I—Of course not, Miss Weasley." Her glasses had gone slightly askew, and Ginny suspected the firm denial was as much for herself as for Ginny. "No, I believe he wants the resources of the Order without committing himself to the danger it entails."
Professor McGonagall was white around the nostrils, so Ginny hastened to say, "Don't worry, Professor, I've worked it out. I got a tutor."
"Quite right. I rarely speak ill of my colleagues, but in this case—well, I will speak with Professor Slughorn. In the meantime, there is one further matter I must discuss with you. I know you are accustomed to spending time with Miss Lovegood after hours, but I'm afraid I cannot allow it any longer."
"What?" yelped Ginny.
"It is the rules, Miss Weasley." As she leaned back, McGonagall looked hollow under the eyes in a way Ginny had never seen before.
"Does this have to do with the Prophet? Because Dumbledore was not being lenient—"
"Now is not the time for rebellion. I will not tolerate another Dolores Umbridge in Hogwarts. The Headmaster charged me with keeping our students safe and you must understand; I cannot do anything that might give them leverage to replace me."
Ginny bit back the protest that she was working for Dumbledore too; she did not want to have any hand in getting McGonagall fired. Instead, she attempted a smile and answered, "I understand." McGonagall dismissed her, but the wan look on her face made Ginny turn back at the door. "No one in their right mind would call you unsteady, Professor." She gave a short laugh that did not even need to be forced. "Seriously, have they ever been in your classes?"
McGonagall offered a thin smile and waved Ginny off, but not before handing her a hard biscuit. At dinner, Harper caught her eye from across the Great Hall, exultant.