Difficulties of Avoidance
by dead2self
A/N: Happy New Year and I'm excited to get another chapter out! I've been motivated to write and have really been enjoying it, so I'm happy to say that there will be more chapters coming after this soon! I've also been posting this fic over on ao3 under the same name, so if you prefer that platform now I'll be posting new chapters in both places.
As always, reviews are huge for me. I love to hear what you're thinking if you're enjoying the story! And they remind me to keep writing if I forget when life gets crazy. Thanks again for reading.
Ginny hated the Quibbler near as much as the Death Eaters did by the time she was done scrubbing it from the halls the next day. Her fingers were raw and her knees were bruised, but luckily the D.A. were becoming experts on healing charms. The knees she could do herself, and Jimmy Peakes saw to her hands during lunch, even though it cost Gryffindor ten points.
Filch had cornered her at breakfast, commandeering her free period in the morning for her detention. He'd then forgotten her while she scrubbed and she managed to skive off Dark Arts, as they'd begun calling Carrow's class. But this meant that she had to shovel down her lunch so she could bring Tom something to eat. Luna appeared at her shoulder even as she was slipping a steak and kidney pie into her bag.
"Tom spoke to me last night," whispered Luna and Ginny rose from her seat, rushing into the hall with her.
"What did you say?" she asked as they hustled up the stairs.
"You know I've been keeping him company at night. Lately, I read to him, Beetle and the Bard, things like that. I was thinking, growing up I loved my Mum reading me all those stories. It was the best part of my day. And these are Wizarding children's stories, Tom will have missed out on all of them."
"I can't imagine he likes it," said Ginny, confused as to where this was going.
"He is always scowling, but it is hard to tell. He puts his back to me and reads something else during, but I've been through the book twice already. He's not speaking with me to hurt me, but I think he likes the stories."
Ginny highly doubted it. Riddle certainly found them childish and beneath him, but she urged Luna to continue. "So, last night?"
"Last night I didn't even get the book open. I came into the room and he was pacing about, all wound tight. I hardly took two steps into the room before he exploded."
"It's probably my fault, yesterday morning—"
"Oh, I know. He ranted about you for twenty minutes. I didn't even get a chance to warn him about the Rotfang fungus I smelled growing in the room. Before You-Know-Who came back, it was one of the chief ways the Ministry attempted to infect wizards in protected areas like Hogwarts."
Ginny stopped on the landing, stunned. "About me?"
"Well, about what you said. He wanted me to understand how foolish the two of us are."
The staircase rumbled, threatening to shift, and Ginny and Luna hurried up to the next floor. "Touched a nerve, did I?"
"Be careful, Ginny, he was particularly… colorful. But I must say, I was pleased he was speaking to me again. I finally decoded his library record, you know. You would not believe the number of Ancient Runes tomes he checked out. I'm planning to find a new one he can't possibly have read yet, the more stale and long-winded the better."
Luna peeled off on the first floor with a look of burning determination on her face, and Ginny continued up to the seventh floor at a fast clip, astonished at this turn of events.
"Sorry to disappoint, but I'm back," she said as she sailed into the room.
Tom was sitting on the floor in the corner, a book on his lap. At her entrance, he scowled at her and stood. "Leave the food and go," he said, retreating to his bed.
"Luna told me you were mad last night," she said, slightly out of breath. "You're a sore loser, Tom. You're mad because you know I'm right."
Laying down, he began a diligent study of the diagram on the page, clearly ignoring her. She arched an eyebrow.
"Are you giving me the silent treatment now?" She threw her hands to her face in mock horror. "Oh no, this has never happened to me constantly my entire childhood, what ever will I do?"
She swore his lips twitched into a firmer line, but he simply turned in the bed. Well, she had not entirely been joking. Luna had done her best, but she was an only child. Tom was playing in the big leagues now.
First she dumped his spelled food unceremoniously on his head. Tom cried out as he shielded his head, but she had already moved on to her next objective, the wooden chair.
"Here's a pro tip from years of experience, Tom. The one drawback of the silent treatment if you're stuck in the same place – say, a Ford Anglia flying over the English Channel, or in an enchanted prison room – is that the person you're mad at can say whatever they want, and you can't stop them. For instance, I could say, 'Tom, speak up if you don't want me to change your chair to Gryffindor colors.' And then you can't say anything or the other person wins, and then whoops—"
With a flick of her wand she levitated the wooden chair next to Tom's bed. As it flew through the air, it turned a gaudy striped red and gold. She spun it once where it landed, and then sat straddling it, her arm over the back.
"But Tom, it gets worse. I could say that you are sulking because you lost the argument last night. I could say I hit a nerve and I made you think scary thoughts about death and mediocrity and being lesser than. I could say you caved and talked to Luna for the first time in weeks because I got under your skin, and it didn't intimidate her or scare her, it bolstered her. She will be ten times more aggravating to you tonight, and it will be because you lost control.
"But what I'm actually going to say is that you can't stand that some of the things I said made sense to you, because how could a stupid, Weasley blood-traitor possibly know what the high and mighty Heir of Slytherin is thinking, what you're feeling, who you are?
"Tom, you were in my head for a year. I've spent another year in this stupid room with you, getting cursed and threatened. If I didn't get to know my enemy any better, if in all this time I never even noticed what food you like to eat, I would be an idiot. But I'm not an idiot, and that bothers you. You thought I was beneath you, foolish and simple, and you're finding that I'm not. And you can't stand it."
She was surprised that Tom held his tongue, but she knew him. He hated this.
"No biting comebacks?" she goaded. "It's not like you, being so down. Yesterday really got to you, didn't it?"
There, she saw a nerve jump at his temple. She ducked her face to catch his eye and shot him her most knowing, most understanding smile. Now for the tour de force: good, old-fashioned badgering.
"You know what always cheers me up? A re-enactment of the '89 League Cup finals. Let me set the scene."
Leaping from the chair she snatched her Cleansweep 11 from the air as the Room Summoned it for her.
"Gwenog Jones is the Holyhead Harpies captain, and she's put together the most exciting team the British and Irish League has seen in near 100 years. But Roger Stanstaff is the Montrose Magpies Seeker, who we all know went on to lead the English to near-victory in the 1990 World Cup before choking in the finals – figuratively and literally, as he got a Bludger to the throat in the second half. The odds are against the Harpies, but when they win the coin toss, Jones makes the insane decision to award the Quaffle to the Magpies."
She started backing into the empty corner of the room, and the ceilings of the room jumped ten feet higher in anticipation of her take-off. She held the broomstick with one hand and pointed her wand to her throat with the other, amplifying her voice so that it rebounded around the Room.
"The Magpies start with the Quaffle—"
Riddle finally sat up in the bed. "I lived in an orphanage, Weasley. You think any of this can bother me?"
She lowered the wand. "Oh, he speaks."
"Speaking to you is a waste of breath. You've left the food. Now get out."
"I've got to disagree with you, Tom, the Harpies winning the league in '89 is a classic." She took another step back, mounting the broom, and then yelped as Tom fairly flew from the bed, seized her by the wrist and dragged her towards the door. She tripped, dropping her broom, and then dug in her heels. He jerked harder, putting his weight into it, and so she did what she had always done against someone bigger and heavier – she caught him around the neck, tangled her leg in front of his, and then collapsed her whole weight onto him and pushed. The two of them toppled to the ground and she clambered on top. She dug her knee into his back and grabbed at his arms, aiming to pin them behind his back like she used to do with Ron before his growth spurt.
But it became quickly apparent that this was not Tom's first scrape. He got his arms free, and when she tried to scramble away, he seized her around the waist and had her flipped in seconds. She bucked to throw him off, but he scrabbled on top of her, pushed her down. For a moment he palmed her cheek into the floor and she retaliated, reaching up and pushing back at his chin. He changed tactics, seizing her hand and pinning it at her side under his knee. There was a brief struggle as he tried to catch her other wrist while she twisted back and forth, but then he had it and slammed it to the floor above her head.
It was only then, with his full weight on her stomach, completely immobile, that Ginny remembered that she was not wrestling with a brother or even a bully, but with Tom Riddle. She went still in panic, and for a moment they were both breathing hard and wild-eyed. Her only salvation was that Riddle seemed as shocked as her.
He wrestled like it mattered.
"Fine, you lived in an orphanage, you win," she said, and angled her forgotten wand to hit him with a Stinging Hex. He fell off her and she scrambled to her feet. She rubbed at her wrist as she backed away, speechless, seeing him in a new light. For his part, Tom was regarding her as though she had cast the Darkest magic on him, and not because a welt was surely raised on his side. The moment was heavy, and she had the distinct impression that what she had seen was a dirty secret, something too private, too intimate for her to have witnessed, much less experienced.
A clear choice lay before Ginny. If she were cruel in this moment, with all the pride and pomp he wrapped himself in stripped away, she could actually wound Tom. But if she were kind, he would close to her completely.
She forced a leer through her shock.
"Did you forget I had a wand?" she jeered. "Merlin, Riddle, and you say you're the same as the Dark Lord. Expecto Patronum!"
He twitched, the barest instinct to launch himself at her—but she knew he would not. Tom stayed where he had fallen on the floor, staring hard at the corner of the room, avoiding her gaze and stitching his lips tight.
She stooped to pick up her broom – there wasn't a world where she would risk leaving it in the Room with Tom, she'd rather lose the House points for carrying it into class – and then leaned over him, and offered her hand.
His eyes snapped to her and he climbed to his feet alone. His voice was chilling. "I won't forget this, Weasley."
She dropped her hand, a strange parallel to her conversation with Burke. "I'm counting on it, Riddle."
She was already fifteen minutes late to Charms, and so she left the Room at a shaky run once Luna released her. Her head spun like a kaleidoscope, thoughts and fears and shock tumbling together and splitting apart. Tom had pinned her, but the brief struggle had shown her more about him than his diary ever could have. He had not wrestled like Ginny, who aimed to win, but treated it like a game. He fought with a desperation, like it mattered who came out on top.
For the first time since her first year she truly considered that Tom had grown up differently than her. All her crowing about her brothers suddenly felt empty. Tom sincerely had no idea what she was talking about. His childhood had been a real struggle for power. And from the way he fought, she knew he had not always had it. It was one thing to know it. It was another to live it, hear his breath come faster, feel his hands fighting for purchase, see the instinct to gain control instead of letting her dodge away.
This was not new information. It changed nothing, did nothing to excuse all that he had done. Ginny did not even feel pity. A sick, sinking feeling at the reality of an orphan's life, perhaps, but not pity.
But she felt she had seen him. More importantly, he had been seen, for a moment unmasked. It was something, if not forward movement, at least different. Tom would recoil from it, but he could not take it back.
Flitwick took points for her tardiness, but turned a blind eye to the broom she toted into class without explanation. Luna had saved a seat for her, and looked papery white and faint. Ginny scribbled a quick "All good, lost track of time," on her notes and edged it over for the other girl to see.
After class, Ginny reported everything to Luna while they trailed behind a Muggle-born second year that Demelza had assigned them because they took a similar route to their next class. Luna looked more horrified than Ginny felt about the incident.
"Are you okay? Were you scared?"
"No worse than any other scrape I've been in," she answered. And she had been scared, at least for a moment. She would probably never forget as long as she lived the brief seconds she had forgotten she had a wand, the terrible feeling of being caught and powerless, completely at the mercy of a man who she knew would show none. It ran a shudder through her even now, safe and free. "And I'm never not scared of Tom."
"I suppose he'll be horrible for days," said Luna, sighing. "And I found such a good book for him."
"We ought to keep pushing, I think we're on to something," said Ginny, drawing even with a group of young Slytherins who had drawn their wands behind their charge, jostling each other and snickering. She drew her own wand and spun in front of them. They halted in a comical pile up of gangly limbs, and then stowed their wands, rather white-faced as they backpedaled. She gave them a thin-lipped smile and then continued on her way.
This at least was working. With older students following younger students there had been significantly less attacks on Muggle-borns in the corridors. Unfortunately, some older students had started stepping in and retaliating. It was not just Slytherins either. The new pureblood rhetoric seemed to emboldening students in other Houses who were perhaps quieter about their prejudice during Dumbledore's tenure. Part of her was relieved that June was almost upon them, their time in school nearly over.
The talk in the common room that night was all reports of the day, duels with Slytherins, and rumors that the Carrows had ordered Filch to commission chains of some kind. Ginny watched the entrance for the wisp of Luna's Patronus. They could both send them running along the floors or the walls now, and if she did not watch she could miss it. Once, Luna's rabbit had popped it's little head out of the floor and nudged her when she had not seen it. It had been an oddly warm feeling.
The Patronus was late in coming and she worried. Luna had brought Tom the new book, but she knew what he could be like when desperate and angry. She was considering sneaking out when she spotted the Patronus. The nonverbal spell was effortless now; she could cast it even under the table hardly moving her wand.
Then her D.A. Galleon warmed in her pocket and she jumped. She pulled it out, expecting the worst, a dire message from Luna. Instead what she saw warmed her to her core.
"It's Fred and George, it has to be," she told the other Gryffindors, who had pulled out their coins as well. The instructions were sparse: Radio, 21.30, Padfoot. It was nearly time so they found a radio and bundled the group into the seventh-year boys' dormitory.
Ginny was scanning the stations, tapping her wand on the wireless as she murmured what she imagined was a passcode. She nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard Lee Jordan's voice blaze out of the radio.
"Welcome back to Potterwatch. I'm coming to you live from a new undisclosed location. Getting a right tour of Wizarding Britain with this program, but our Death Eater friends are none too happy about anyone telling the truth these days."
"Blimey, it's Lee!" exclaimed Gregory, and the whole gathering hushed him.
"Before we get on with the program, I'll take a moment to report the deaths that the Daily Prophet and the Wizarding Wireless Network News have neglected to mention. It is with deep regret that I now confirm the death of Alastor Moody."
Ginny's stomach bottomed out. Like the world itself had bottomed out. No. Gregory cursed colorfully and this time no one silenced him.
"Missing since the takeover of the Ministry, several brave Ministry employees have come forward in secrecy to share that the Ministry has his body. It is presumed that he was targeted specifically during the takeover of the Ministry, possibly by You-Know-Who himself. As one of the more experienced members of the Order of the Phoenix, we know he didn't go down without a fight. Constant Vigilance, viewers, as he was fond of saying."
Mad-Eye dead. It seemed impossible. He was the Order, nearly invincible. But the program barreled forward.
"Meanwhile, attacks on Muggles are on the rise. This new regime is getting bolder, and with no one standing against them, I'm sorry to report that there have been deaths. Two Muggles in Birmingham were found dead in their flat. The Order has informed me it was the Killing Curse.
"I know a lot of you are shocked that it's come to this. It's no longer big, public attacks that can be attributed to You-Know-Who wanting to sow panic. This was an innocent couple, with no knowledge of the Wizarding world, having dinner in their home at the wrong time. But we've known this was coming for a long time. If no one stands up against it, killing spare Muggles for fun will become a new Death Eater pastime.
"Listeners, let's take a moment of silence for Mad-Eye Moody and these no less important Muggles who were murdered by Death Eaters."
The silence held out and the gathered Gryffindors looked at each other in shock. Demelza stood and folded Colin into a hug, for he looked nearly Petrified. Finally, Lee spoke again.
"A reminder to all our listeners that the Taboo is still in effect. Speaking You-Know-Who's name won't just alert the Ministry that you've broken the Taboo, it'll interrupt protection spells and cause all kind of magical havoc. We've got a new contributor joining us today who got up close and personal with the effects of the Taboo and lived to tell the tale. How are you feeling, Royal?"
"Glad to be out of the Ministry where I belong, River."
Ginny gasped and her housemates all looked to her. "It's Kingsley Shacklebolt," she said, "He's with the Order."
"For our uninformed listeners, until the recent decommissioning of a great part of their ranks, Royal was working in the Auror's department. The Ministry kept him on as a consultant, at least until he broke the Taboo. How many Death Eaters did you take out on your own, Royal?
"Didn't take the time to count, River, but they should have sent more."
Kingsley, always cool. Ginny grinned despite herself.
"What have you got for us on the state of affairs for Muggle-borns and Muggles in the new Wizarding order?"
"One new development is the deployment of Dementors to several key Wizarding locations. Up until now, they've been left to breed in Muggle areas, but this week they've begun moving in an official capacity to Wizarding towns as well. Notable locations include Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley.
"As always, I encourage Muggle-borns to avoid communicating any information with the Ministry that could identify their parentage. That means avoiding that new census card. Don't think that asking trusted friends to vouch for your childhood together in the Wizarding world will get by any longer with the Muggle-born Registration Committee. I'm sorry to report that the best course of action for all Muggle-borns remains fleeing the country, though we recommend practicing curse detection spells before attempting to board one of these Muggle flying devices. The Death Eaters are starting to clue on to Muggle-borns fleeing the country through non-Magical means and are beginning to set traps.
"What about at Hogwarts?"
"For reasons still unclear to the Order, Hogwarts remains the one place in Wizarding society that has not outright criminalized being Muggle-born. Certain Hogwarts staff who will remain unnamed have taken it upon themselves to destroy any official records of parentage in the school's records ("I'll eat my hat if it wasn't McGonagall," Gregory cheered), but there is still worry that the children may be in danger at the end of term."
"As good a time as any to remind our listeners that Snatchers are being offered increasing amounts of gold to bring in Muggle-borns evading the census. They've got lists of names, and sometimes even pictures, so if you're on the run in the countryside, brush up on your human Transfiguration alongside those campfire spells. You think I'd look good as a red-head, Royal?"
"I'd recommend sticking to a less memorable color. The less they remember you, the safer you'll be.
"And finally, what can the rest of us do to help our fellow wizards and fellow man in this trying time?
"A protection spell cast over your Muggle neighbors' houses could save a life. I recommend a daily walk around your neighborhood to re-cast. I also encourage all our listeners to go through their attics – if any heirloom wands are collecting dust, they could be an invaluable help to a wandless Muggle-born on the run while Ollivander remains missing."
"Thank you Royal. One last final update from our faithful correspondent, Romulus. Over to you on 'Pals of Potter'."
"Thanks River," said a familiar voice, and the whole of the Gryffindor crowd lit up. Professor Lupin!
"It's been awhile since we've heard word of Harry. Do you maintain that he's still alive?"
"I do. I spoke to him myself not five weeks ago, but that's not the only reason. We haven't heard any mention of him since the break-in at the Ministry where he freed nearly 20 Muggle-borns being held for questioning. If he were dead, the Ministry would be shouting it from the rooftops. He remains the Boy-Who-Lives, a symbol of hope that Voldemort was stopped once, and he can be stopped again."
"What would you say if you could talk to him now?"
Remus paused, and when he spoke again his voice was almost hesitant. "That I hope he's safe, and that I'm with him in spirit. But I'm also exactly where he wanted me to be. I believe in him."
"And we hope he hears it. As always, Romulus, what updates do you have on friends of Potter?"
"We've lost contact with several friends of Potter in the last month. As faithful listeners know, Dean Thomas is still missing. If anyone has news of his whereabouts, his family can be contacted discreetly by owl. We've also recently lost contact with Ted Tonks, who had to flee his family home.
"The Longbottom operation is still up and running. If you're a Muggle-born on the run and you can manage to make it to their estate in South London, Neville Longbottom has been emptying his family cellars to outfit fleeing Muggle-borns and provide you with Longbottom family heirlooms that could assist in proving Pureblood ancestry to Snatchers if you're caught."
"Thanks Romulus. Remember, listeners, that between Potterwatch broadcasts, the Quibbler is an excellent source of reliable news. Never thought we'd be saying that, did we, Romulus?"
Remus laughed. "Remember that Potterwatch is designed to make it hard for the opposition to tune in. That means no scheduled broadcasts."
"That's right," said Lee. "Keep fiddling those dials to find us. The password for our next broadcast will be Hedwig. Keep each other safe, keep faith. Good night."
"Bloody brilliant," cheered Dennis, punching his fist in the air. "Did you hear that? Longbottom is saving Muggle-borns!"
It was all nearly too much to handle. Moody dead, Dean Thomas and Ted Tonks missing, the Muggle-borns being hunted by Snatchers for gold. It was worse than even the Quibbler was letting on. And term was nearly over. They were about the eject all the Muggle-born students at Hogwarts out into this? Ginny felt like she was going to be sick.
But there was something about hearing familiar voices that warmed her, warmed them all. They were not struggling alone. And that was good because they needed help getting the Muggle-borns out of Hogwarts. Tom had given her the spell. It was time to write the Order.