Difficulties of Avoidance
by dead2self
A/N: There's a few scenes in this I really enjoyed writing, and one that we've been building to for awhile. If you're enjoying the story, let me know what you think. I love reading your reviews! Enjoy the chapter!
Ginny's heart was still beating in double-time. Riddle was bound, but she felt as though he held her at wandpoint. Her Occlumency was worn thin, like he could touch it with the tip of his finger and it would crumble. She wanted nothing more than to flee from the Room, but she needed him to believe this was the whole of it.
"Piss off, Riddle," she sneered, scrubbing a trembling hand over her face. He was bound, she reminded herself. "You were worried, or you wouldn't have spent a week trying to get it out of me."
He raised one brow, eyes still bright with victory. "Dumbledore died and you carried on as normal. I can be forgiven for assuming the worst when you showed up at the crack of dawn seeking solace."
She snorted despite herself. That was the farthest from why she had sought Tom out that morning. "Are you daft? Your attempts at comfort could only fool an eleven year old."
"But you did want my help."
She had told him as much that morning. The past few months had shown her how wonderful it would be to have Tom's talents at her disposition. Just yesterday she had had a daydream of Riddle throwing off a Disillusionment Charm in the middle of Carrow's classroom and cursing the professor through the wall.
It was tempting to close her eyes and lean into whatever he would offer her. She understood why he had followers, but she knew they were all fooling themselves to think it was any sort of partnership. She did not want the help he would give her now, with strings attached and trap doors beneath her feet, generosity laced with manipulation.
That was why she had needed to see him that morning, to see Tom as he was, and not as she wanted him to be. His talent could not be separated from who he was, a snake through and through, striking fast and vicious and relentless. Her heart affirmed this, still thundering in her chest, but somehow her resolve had sharpened.
She wanted to hold out for a much, much better offer.
"You make 'help' sound so belittling," she said, levitating him to his chair. She tied him to that too, for good measure. "Kind of makes me not want it anymore."
His eyes drilled into her and Ginny put her whole resolve into not flinching away. Her papier-mâché Occlumency was nonetheless a mask, as long as he did not touch it. Slowly, a smile grew on his face. "My counsel, then?"
Ginny smiled to match him. It was a shift in the right direction, to be encouraged if not believed. Still, it was best that she kept to truths, at least the ones she could admit.
"Fine. They've extended the term, because Dumbledore died. They say it's only fair we get more time to prepare for N.E.W.T.s, given the circumstances."
"You aren't going home, then?"
"We can take a two week holiday, if we want, and then we'll have a summer term. Luna has to stay during the break, she's Head Girl."
"And you're not ready to move me."
"It doesn't matter if we're ready or not; I won't do it without Luna." She lowered her wand, two layers of cords finally creating a semblance of safety. "Ah, speaking of, Luna's not coming the rest of the week. She's busy preparing for the break. She made me promise to read you stories, but I won't if you don't tell on me again."
He grimaced. "This time your secret is safe with me. So, you'll stay?"
"I haven't decided. I ought to write my mum today, but…" She frowned, but he picked up her sentence where she left off.
"You do not wish to leave Luna alone with me, so you will not change the defenses on the Room to accommodate a single jailor. If you leave, you lose valuable time to change my mind. If you stay, you miss your chance to see your family, and to prepare my next prison."
For all that he undervalued the power of connection and humanity, it was astounding how well Riddle understood people. She could not have summarized her thoughts better herself.
"Is this your counsel?" she asked. "Telling me things I already know?"
Tom smirked, quiet for a moment. "Leave me food," he said, finally. "I can teach you spells that will preserve it far longer than the ones you are using now. I assure you, it is the wiser decision. Two weeks more with me will make little difference."
She had seen the calculation in progress, but could not make heads or tails of his motives. "Is that generosity or manipulation?" she asked, smiling thinly.
He shifted against his bonds in what could have been a shrug. "Both. It will be a welcome break, not seeing the two of you every day."
"Merlin, not seeing you for two weeks would be glorious." Eyeing him, she rolled her wand between her fingers. "What's the spell?"
"It is difficult," said Tom. "It's ancient, no longer widely used or taught because of the risk of poisoning. Done right, it can make food last years. But if you get it wrong, the effects can range from mild discomfort to death."
"That is sweet, Tom, I didn't realize we'd grown so close." His brow furrowed, and she clarified, "I just feel so honored that you'd put your very mortal life in my hands."
His lips twitched. "Happily, I will not. It's simple enough to confirm within twenty-four hours of casting whether or not the spell has taken correctly. Miscast, the food will develop an oily sheen."
"You can show me tonight. We may not have N.E.W.T.s, but we still have classes." She prepared to go, busying herself with his food while she waited for Luna's Patronus to come.
"Will you not untie me?"
She looked up as his stomach gurgled, and she flashed him a smirk.
"Not a chance. You're lucky I don't tip you over." Even more fortunate, she had brought oatmeal that morning. She magicked it into a Summoned cup with a matching straw, and propped it on his armrest. "That was your worst lesson yet."
"But perhaps your best performance."
Her skin crawled, and she did not stay to explore the implications of that statement with him. Safe outside the Room, she sank down against the wall and dug the palms of her hands into her eyes. She stayed frozen there for some time, shaken, but refused to give him the satisfaction of tears, just in case he found the memory later. Finally, she stood, and went to find Luna.
For her part, Luna recognized immediately that something was wrong. She took one look at Ginny's face outside History of Magic (the only class that had proceeded unimpeded by the momentous change to the school calendar), and turned her straight around, marching her to an empty classroom.
"It's not as bad as it could be," Ginny started, perching on top of a desk, and told Luna everything. Someone had spelled their initials into the desk top, and she traced them while Luna worried at her lip, processing.
"Do you think he was telling the truth?" she asked. "That it doesn't change anything for his plan?"
"Yeah," said Ginny, "because he stopped attacking me. He relaxed."
Luna went silent again, and then said, "I think we should risk getting him out of the castle. His Legilimency is improving."
Ginny's heart jumped a beat. "How do you mean?"
Luna twisted a strand of her hair around one finger, head cocked. "I don't think our Occlumency would last five seconds against his older self. We think about Tom like he's You-Know-Who, but he's only seventeen. He's leagues ahead of us, but he was still playing by the standard rules. Now, you said he was able to do the spell when you closed your eyes, and that's wandless Legilimency to boot. He's spent this whole year practicing in ways he probably never did in school, and he has the proclivity to go well beyond what is typically possible in this realm of magic. I think this is becoming too dangerous."
Luna said this decisively, but Ginny could tell that she expected a fight. Luckily, Tom had given her solid advice. Two more weeks seeking to influence him was not going to make a difference. Two months might not either. But handing him over to Voldemort would change everything, and so avoiding that ought to be their priority. Grim, she nodded her agreement.
"I don't think I should move him alone," she said, "but you're right. I could go home and make plans with the Order. Then, when I come back, we can smuggle him out immediately, with more help and more options than we have now. We can leave him with the Order until we finish school."
Luna dropped her hand from her hair, eyes unblinking. "That would be ideal, but if he finds out about the Death Eaters before you leave, you'll need to take him with you now."
Ginny's stomach twisted, but it rang true, and she nodded her agreement once more. In the end, the decision was easy. She found having one's mind pummeled for secrets had a clarifying effect.
Nodding once, the worry cleared from Luna's face, replaced with a twinkle of mischief. "Hagrid thinks we ought to have a party," she said. "A Support Harry Potter party. He told me so after Care of Magical Creatures."
Ginny thought of their toast the night that Snape had announced the summer term, and felt a vicious glee at the idea, a welcome change from the rest of the morning. "That's brilliant!"
"I thought so too, although I suggested we bring food from the kitchens."
Ginny nodded emphatically. If she never ate another one of Hagrid's rock cakes in her life, it would be for the best.
Slytherin was so ridiculously in the lead for the House Cup that Ginny and Luna skived off the whole of History of Magic. Ginny took a much-needed nap and woke up with only a headache instead of the soul-sucking mental exhaustion Riddle had left her with earlier. When she sat up, Luna was perched cross-legged on a desk, laboriously spelling the D.A. coin phrase by phrase to communicate with Neville.
"They're ready," she said, eyes bright. "Aberforth can fetch the Portkeys tomorrow morning."
Ginny shocked to her feet, and the two girls stared at each other for one overwhelmed moment before Ginny punched her fist into the air in silent celebration, spinning Luna off the desk and around in a stumbling hug of sheer jubilation.
It was incredible, but Neville and the Order had pulled it off. They had an escape for every Muggle-born student that wanted to go, six to a Portkey, with destinations all over Great Britain. It was a triumph that Ginny would never have been able to pull off alone, and it was marvelous. She almost wanted to stay at Hogwarts for the break just to see Snape and the Muggle-born Registration Committee with egg on their face.
The buoyant feeling carried her even through the evening with Tom, spent learning the most finicky spell she had ever encountered. It was no mystery why it had gone out of fashion, though it mercifully kept him from ambushing her with Legilimency. She left him with dinner and a small collection of food that she hoped she got right, eager to join Luna and the Gryffindor seventh-years at Hagrid's hut. She had promised to fetch more butterbeer on her way (a small House Elf named Winky watched her rather sulkily as the bottles changed hands), but as she was tucking them into her school bag, Harper opened the door to the kitchens.
"What are you doing?" he said immediately, as Ginny swallowed the sudden lurch of fear at being caught. There was nothing official in the school rules against being in the kitchens, and Harper knew it.
"It's not curfew, Harper," said Ginny, quickly shouldering the bag.
"What are you taking?"
"What, is it out of bounds to celebrate exams being cancelled?" she sneered, wheeling around to face him straight on. "Want to send me to detention for a bit of butterbeer?"
Harper's lips thinned, reminding her faintly of Tom. "You're up to something. You always are. I—"
"Oh, piss off, Harper," she cut him off, stalking towards him. "I could not care less about your reputation as a disciplinarian. If you want to take points, put Gryffindor in the negatives. If you want to give me a detention, get in line; I've already got one more with Snape before we leave for break. But for Merlin's sake, I cannot handle another pointless lecture."
Tossing her head, she shouldered past him and left him gaping after her from the kitchens entrance. Once she got out of sight, she swirled her wand about her head and ran down to Hagrid's hut, invisible and brimming with excitement.
"I don't know, there'd be something to flying fully backwards and being able to use both hands." Demelza was gnawing at a rock cake Hagrid had hoisted on her, hard as ever, though he had carved Harry's initials into them.
"You can already do that; it's called banking with your knees," said Ginny, having already chucked her rock cake out the open window.
"Yeah, but imagine being able to do it without even thinking about it."
"The difficulty is what makes it fun!"
"Without brooms, everyone could use their feet too," said Colin thoughtfully. "You could use moves from Muggle football; that would be brilliant." Ginny thought that sounded ridiculous, but refrained from telling Colin to his face by taking a large bite of cake.
"Not for you, Jones," said Hagrid, swiping a flask Gregory had found and then hidden under the table. Gregory put up some protest, and then took a quick swig from an identical, full flask once Hagrid's back was turned. He passed it to Ginny under the table, and she felt the firewhisky down to her toes.
Another cake with Harry's face on it spun on the table, half-eaten, slightly tilted and four tiers high. Hagrid had painted a banner that simply read "SUPPORT HARRY POTTER" in bold red and gold letters, and they had raised their glasses to Harry at least five times since Ginny joined the party. Harry would have flushed to the tips of his ears had he seen the spectacle, but Ginny was warm and laughing. Riddle's attack that morning felt leagues away.
It was a lucky thing Ginny was sitting next to the window, or they would have all been caught. Upon dropping a second rock cake out into the garden, she noticed movement outside, someone slinking up towards the house. She did not think twice, holding up her wand with a flash that illuminated Alecto Carrow, leaving her blinking against the sudden light. Yelping, Ginny leaned full out the window and slashed a Stunning Spell at the witch. The Death Eater crumpled, and Ginny leapt to her feet.
"Everyone out!" she cried. The whole party stilled, and then a bang sounded at the back door, blowing it in. They all screamed, running for the front as the dust settled. Fang launched himself through the wreckage of the door as a red spell seared through the house. Pottery exploded and someone cried out against Fang's snarls – it sounded like Amycus. Hagrid seized his pink umbrella from where it leaned against the fireplace and swept it towards Ginny, knocking her with some weak spell towards the door.
"Go on, run!" he bellowed, turning around to face the back door. Fang backed through, growling, and then Ginny did run, chasing the rest of her classmates up to the castle. From their new vantage point, she saw a fresh horror: Snape, billowing up from the gates, dementors and two wizards in his wake. Luna turned back next to Ginny and reacted first, shooting off her Patronus towards Hagrid's hut. But it had barely reached the house when a roar echoed from the Forbidden Forest.
Horrified, the whole party watched as a giant rose out of the small trees edging the forest. He was wearing a horribly knit sweater with an approximation of a lightning bolt on its front. It seemed Hagrid had invited his half-brother to the party.
Grawp took two lurching steps out of the Forest, bending over Hagrid's hut with a furious, focused look on his face. He reached down, trying to catch something, and Luna threw her hands over her mouth as Amycus dashed out from behind the house. The spells he fired bounced harmlessly off Grawp, though they seemed to anger him further. The wizards with Snape had stopped cold at the sight of the giant, though Snape continued on, pushing up the sleeves of his robes as he drew his wand. Finally, Hagrid came into view, carrying Fang, and yelled something up at Grawp. The giant stooped, caught Hagrid and Fang up together, and took off at a slow and thundering run that shook the ground so hard, Snape lost his footing.
"Inside," said Ginny once Grawp leapt the front gate, and everyone fled to their common rooms. The next morning, Snape forbade private gatherings, as during Umbridge's tenure. Ginny watched Harper with something black growing in her heart, certain that he had a hand in it. It was the last straw.
"We have to get Harper out of the way the day we get the Muggle-borns out," Ginny told Luna as they left breakfast. "He has it in for us."
Luna checked behind them for Harper, but for once he was not trailing them. "I don't think he told on us last night. Snape was coming up from the gates with wizards from the Ministry. He had to have called them much earlier than when you talked with Harper."
Ginny frowned, undeterred, but worrying about Harper would need to wait its turn. Now, it was time to worry about Tom. She only needed to make it a few more days without spilling the rest of their secrets, but she was determined to make them count.
"It is odd," he commented as she checked over her first attempt at the spell to preserve his food. He was enjoying porridge from a bowl this morning, an improvement over the previous day's improvisation. "You set a basilisk loose in the school and the year proceeded as usual."
A full twenty-four hours had not passed, but a slick sheen was already appearing on a few meals she had enchanted the night before. She Vanished her ruined efforts, not without a twinge of guilt. Molly Weasley did not let food go to waste in her household.
"Dumbledore cancelled our exams my first year." She eyed him. Since he had discovered her secret, she had started tethering his ankle to a handy bolt the Room grew between their two chairs. The night before, Riddle had eyed it and then her with clear humor, but it certainly made her feel better. "Exams cancelled two out of my seven years. If you squint, you're practically becoming a school hero."
That earned her half a laugh. Riddle seemed to be less sparing with his laughter the past few days, lighter somehow. "Come, Weasley, it is odd."
She sighed sitting back on her heels. Only the meatloaf she had enchanted the night before still looked good. She would have to check it again that evening. "The Ministry is not a big fan of Harry Potter these days." She shrugged, mouth going tight. "No one likes being told they're wrong."
"What are they doing wrong?" he asked, and she rocked to her feet, frowning down at him. That was a dangerous line of questioning. She could probably spin it, but not if he pushed her for more details. So instead, she smirked, and parroted his own words back to him.
"I see little reason to tell you when I have occasion to practice." It was brash, but in Quidditch, Ginny had always pushed for offense as the best defense. "Just because you got what you were looking for, my Legilimency lessons have ended? What happened to generosity?"
He rolled his eyes to the ceiling, the perfect picture of long-suffering. "I already regret using that word."
"I'll stop if you just admit that you weren't being generous at all. You haven't even properly taught me to cast the spell myself, just attacked me with it."
Riddle had the gall to smile into his porridge, and so Ginny took a page from his book and struck while he was distracted. She bounced off his Occlumency like Pig running full tilt into her freshly cleaned bedroom window. He took another humored bite, and Ginny snarled, running her hands through her hair.
"Patience, Weasley, first breakfast, and then your lesson."
She took the opportunity to huff dramatically and storm out of the room, pleased that she had distracted him. When he next tried Legilimency, it was far less likely to be an ambush. He proved her right, for when she entered the Room that evening and tethered him at his chair, he continued their earlier conversation without preamble.
"There is no need for melodramatics. You cannot expect to excel in Legilimency against me."
Ginny checked the meatloaf and then set it aside, content that it had not gone bad. She added to the store several parcels that she had worked on after lunch. After seeing her dismal success rate on the first attempt, she had decided to enchant as much food as she could get away with after every meal.
"How do you propose I practice then?" she asked as she worked. "There's no one else whose mind I'd risk scrambling."
He chuckled, and again she was struck by his good humor. It was becoming unnerving.
"Very well. If you manage to cast the spell with even minimal proficiency, I will allow you to see what you find."
Ginny pretended to consider this patently false offer, and then sat next to him, nodding with some eagerness. He turned towards her, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, and she did the same as he gestured between them with two fingers.
"Cast the spell verbally and maintain eye contact," he said, and she quieted her mind as she met his gaze. They were so close that she could see the flecks in his eyes, and she was not as afraid as she should be. "The spell creates the connection and the polarity. It does not pull thoughts out, but lets you fall in. Remember that you are a beginner. Don't focus on any specific memory, but on a general feeling, and let yourself flow where the spell leads – you must walk before you can run."
She had thought all day on what she would try to see if Riddle gave her the chance, and on what she would show him when he struck back. She was hell bent on seeing his first-year Quidditch matches, but it probably was not the wisest of options. Deciding to aim for what she truly needed to know, Ginny raised her wand.
His eyes crinkled as he smiled, and it was not kind, but she did not falter. Pouring out, not pulling, was a metaphor that she liked. This time she cast the spell like she was throwing a magnetic Quaffle at the memory she wanted to see: his plan to escape. She focused and then tipped her mind over, but she did not merely let herself fall along the connection. She dove like she had metal studs in her helmet.
"Legilimens!"
Ginny knew immediately that it had worked as it ought, the impressions and visions crystal clear compared to her first attempt with Burke. Naturally, Riddle did not stay true to his word, for she saw nothing of his thoughts on escape or preparations. Instead, she got a brief flash of memory she had been present for, one of their screaming matches, pages of a potions manual floating through the air. It was unnerving seeing herself through his eyes, and even more so feeling the wordless rage that he had felt towards her in that moment. How desperately he had wanted to hurt her, to cut off her foolish prattle, the stolen wand burning a hole in his pocket. He only just managed to restrain himself from drawing it on her.
It was all that she got before Riddle poured back into her mind. She felt it now, the polarity that he was talking about. It was like he had thrown the magnetic Quaffle back at her and it was stuck to her hands. She was ready with a memory of Madam Pince burning Rita Skeeter's book in the entrance hall, letting Riddle watch the Ministry wizard beating a hasty retreat while she tried to pry the spell off and throw it back.
When she managed, this time she aimed for Quidditch.
A memory unfolded before her, Tom in his first year, a brisk Sunday afternoon on the Quidditch pitch. He was flying well, already proficient at steering with his knees, which was good because he could not seem to catch the Quaffle one-handed. His team groaned as he dropped another pass (his two handed catches were not stellar either), and the Chaser guarding him swooped to intercept it. Riddle gritted his teeth, wheeling back towards the opposite goalposts, but he might as well have been a mosquito buzzing about the other team. He could not tackle to save his life and did not even manage to snatch up the Quaffle when it was dropped on his head. The one time he did manage to get his hands on it, the throw that followed was so weak that no one was even close to it, and the Quaffle fell all the way to the ground.
The slaughter was cut short only because his team caught the Snitch – it seemed the team with the better Seeker had been given Tom as a handicap. They all shook hands, Tom receiving hearty pats on the back even as he was ribbed for his performance. While he endured a talk up to the castle on the finer strategies of Quidditch, he judged the game quite a waste of his time.
Ginny came back to herself, and Tom's mouth had soured. He opened it, probably to reprimand her for seeking a specific memory rather than a feeling, but something rang false. She could believe that he would project good-natured, shamefaced sportsmanship to his friends, but the Riddle she knew would have been fuming under the surface after such a display, not merely bored. Plus, she had seen him throw a great variety of objects by now - glass vials, pumpkin juice, rice pudding – and Tom did not have a weak arm.
Before he could get a word out, Ginny struck again, aiming the spell between the cracks in the recollection that she thought would be there.
This time Tom was Keeper. And – blast it all – he was not bad. He was tall, which helped, and his team won with margin. But he spent the whole match, save after save, thinking about how this unexacting and simple game would be worth it if afterwards Walburga Black, playing Seeker, would finally deign to talk to him. Flush with victory, he could ask after any Wizarding family by the name of Riddle while they walked up to the castle—
Ginny severed the connection, though it seemed he had refrained from striking back to let her see what she wanted. Two different versions of what she wanted. He was still leaning over his knees, the amusement in his eyes asking the obvious question: which one was real?
She tilted her head to look sideways through her lashes at him, lips pulling into a disgruntled line. She could not trust her Legilimency, but she did trust her instincts.
"Unexacting and simple? Merlin, Riddle, have mercy."
"It certainly wasn't a challenge."
"Not flying against first-years, it isn't. But being tall can only get you so far against a real Chaser."
He leaned back in his chair, laying a finger alongside a knowing smile. "I was good because I anticipated their attacks."
Ginny leaned in closer, conspiratorial. "And I'm superb because I never stop attacking."
It was a stroke of genius turning him onto the question of the Ministry. Yes, it was only a hop and a skip away from revealing Voldemort's takeover of the Wizarding world, but she had nearly exhausted memories of the past few months at Hogwarts that did not feature Death Eaters front and center. Meanwhile, she had no lack of frustrations with the Ministry, before and after the takeover. She spent the last few days of the term sending Tom on a merry goose chase through her head, from Shan Stunpike to the Ministry withholding Dumbledore's full inheritance from Harry. Even when he ambushed her, she was in control. It was a heady feeling.
The week passed in a whirlwind. While Ginny was feeding Tom false leads, Luna was preparing the Muggle-borns, ironing out the logistics with the other seventh-years. Smuggling everyone down to the station and getting the Portkeys into the right hands at the right times was no easy task.
In hindsight, Hagrid's attempted arrest should have been a clue. The Support Harry Potter party had featured in the Daily Prophet, but they should have recognized the excuse for what it was: a smokescreen. Snape had been taking precautions, removing a potential combatant from the grounds. Ginny had won the battle against Riddle, but they were about to pay dearly for splitting their attention away from Snape.