Difficulties of Avoidance
by dead2self
A/N: Ooohhh my goodness I have been waiting literal years to post this chapter. I cannot believe this is seeing the light of other people's computer screens after being in my writing notes folder for eons, but I'm super excited for you to read it. Enjoy, and let me know what you think!
Ginny looked over the enchanted food that she had collected in the Room, and her stomach sank. "There isn't enough," she said, unnecessarily.
"You'll be gone two weeks?" said Tom, standing beside her, arms crossed. Ginny nodded and he frowned.
"The spell you used before, it would keep most things good for a week. That means you only need to supplement this store with another fifteen items enchanted correctly. Your success rate is roughly ten percent." He turned on her, his smile both cruel and amused. "Can you procure 150 meals by tonight to ensure my survival?"
"I've gotten better, it's not ten percent anymore," she pouted. She had enlarged her school bag to bring an unholy amount of food up from the kitchens after breakfast, but they would not know until tomorrow morning if the spell took or not. The Hogwarts Express would depart at noon.
"Forgive my skepticism," he said.
Ginny chewed on her lip, considering the possibility that they may need to change their plans. She had thought, after her second try went better, that she had gotten a hold of the spell. Instead, all her attempts from the day before had failed.
"I could do it myself," he said, and she shot him an incredulous look.
"Forgive my skepticism," she said. "I'll stay at Hogwarts before I hand you my wand." Her heart sank at the realization. The Burrow was so close and yet so far.
Sighing, Riddle stalked back to his chair. The tether she had him on did not allow him to move much, and he pulled at it so that he could sit comfortably. "Fine, Weasley. We'll try to improve your pronunciation. You stumbled over the aspirated c's yesterday."
While she worked, Riddle correcting her relentlessly, the D.A. coin warmed in her pocket. It took all her self-control not to pull it out immediately, but nothing good would come of drawing Tom's attention to it.
"I don't think rock cakes expire," she said, sitting back once they had completed the work. She and Tom met each other's gaze, and in that split second Ginny chose to strike first. Tom had reprimanded her enough times that she now seized for feelings rather than distinct memories. This time she went for happiness.
It was early in his schooling, and he was in the library as always, alone. He was bent over a dusty tome of Wizarding history, genealogies tracing old bloodlines. Speaking Parseltongue had been enough to convince many in his house that he came from good Wizarding stock despite his background, but he had not told nearly anyone his true suspicions. He was certain it was no coincidence, his house and his talents. It was with singular focus that he drew a finger along the names, until he founds it. Marvolo. Marvolo Gaunt. An heir of Slytherin.
His heart sang, a hard clear note, and he began taking careful annotations. It was still too tenuous to parade about; he would need to discover if Marvolo had children, and from where he had inherited this accursed commonplace Muggle name. But here was his grandfather, he was certain. As he had always known, he came from greatness.
He pushed back and she followed his lead, showing him something old and horrible that he would like: the moment just before Tom dragged her into the Chamber of Secrets, sobbing and begging, but unable to lift her quill and close the diary.
She did not relive the memory, however, as she was distracted by a strange realization. She had sought happiness, but Tom had felt only satisfaction, gratification. She had been circling this memory for the past two weeks, all Tom's early school days consumed in his tireless search for his parentage and all his later years bolstered by his discovery. Yet in this defining moment of triumph, he had felt nothing of joy.
Tom watched the memory up until the diary possessed her and the memory went black, and then let her go. He looked smug, before she cut him off.
"Can you cast a Patronus?" she asked.
Tom's smile dropped, taken off-balance. "Why bother? There far better ways to control dementors."
"If you say so, but that's not what I meant. Do you have any memories happy enough to cast it?"
He was silent for a moment, and then answered. "Happiness is not a trustworthy foundation on which to base a spell of power. You would do better to trust yourself to things less ephemeral. "
"Happiness is not short-lived, Tom. I've been able to produce a Patronus consistently all year, no matter what you threw at me, because real happiness is powerful."
When he said nothing, she added. "Those memories, what you did to me was horrible. Overcoming it, by whatever means I choose, does not prove me weak."
"Perhaps. But all the people dear to you hold the keys to dismantling you."
Ginny studied him, the admission as honest as she could hope for from Tom. In all the memories he showed her, he was alone. He had kept from her the group that she knew he had gathered at school, along with all their misdeeds, but in her glimpses of his classes he rarely even thought of the classmates surrounding him. She knew he could be charming; in fact, even in his solitary memories she noticed his classmates drawing to him, like moths to a flame. But Tom was detached, and when he thought of them at all, it was with interest in their utility or with disdain.
The two of them were so different, this discussion the crux of the problem. They would not have been friends in school, for he did not care to have friends. Still, Tom was showing his hand more than he knew. From what little she had glimpsed of his regard for his classmates, she was likely closer to Tom Riddle now than anyone who had known him during school. At least he voiced his dislike to her face, his disdain for her thoughts open and plain.
"So many people hold me up, that I can't be pulled apart," she answered. "Not even if they die. Something of them will always remain with me."
Riddle hardened, drawing back into cruelty. "I suppose we'll find out soon enough."
Ginny's hackles raised, and she could have slapped him. What annoyed her more was that it had shocked her, the threat. She was fooling herself to feel any sort of closeness with Riddle, and she would do well to remember it. Knuckles white around her wand, she stitched her lips tight and summoned her Patronus, proving her point.
Leaving the Room, she read the message on the D.A. coin, and then took off at a dead sprint. Luna caught her at the mouth of the corridor, pale-faced and out of breath.
"What are we going to do?" she asked, clutching the coin. The message from Neville was still visible: Portkeys compromised.
All they could do was wait. By lunch, they had more information. The Order had uncovered intelligence that the Longbottom manor was going to be raided, that very night, or the following morning. Half the Portkeys now risked dumping the Muggle-borns at the feet of Death Eaters and Snatchers.
"We could risk keeping students in the trunks until London, let them out once we're clear of King's Cross," said Gregory.
Ginny shook her head, her instincts screaming that this would spell disaster. "This is not random," she whispered, hard. "They know we'll try to save the Muggle-borns and they're trying to cut our legs out from under us."
Demelza was enchanting her coin under the table so that other houses could join the conversation, but Ginny worried that the Great Hall was suspiciously quiet as a result. She elbowed a third year watching them with wide eyes, and told him to talk loudly with his friends.
"If they suspect the Longbottoms, they could be planning to raid the houses of any known Order members," wrote Luna.
That notion put three further Portkeys out of commission. Blessedly, the others went to homes never associated with the Order, but the loss was felt. Ginny silenced the group when she thought Snape was paying her too much attention, practicing Occlumency for all she was worth.
During their Defense class, amid attempts to throw off the Imperius Curse, Neville finally produced good news. They would try to create more Portkeys to the safest locations, if someone could get them to Hogsmeade.
The day devolved into a fury of messages, D.A. coins enchanted under desks and tense silences, hard-won victories and yet more set-backs. As updates trickled in, new destinations established and Portkeys created, the seventh years bandied back-up plans.
"Thestrals?"
"Unsafe for youngest students."
"Who's seen death? Make a list of who can unhitch from carriages."
"I see them."
"Can anyone Side-Apparate reliably?"
"I've never Splinched myself."
"Who can produce a Patronus if there are dementors?"
In the midst of it all, Ginny took to the library to cram in research on preservation spells. There had to be another way, some middle ground between one week and endless years. Surely housewives had innovated since Riddle's day. In her cursory search she found Tom's finicky spells, and her brothers' fast fix, but nothing else. She even took a trip to the kitchens to ask the house elves for food that would not go bad in two weeks, and was rewarded only with a few bags of dates and nuts.
Acutely aware of her already suspicious requests, Ginny resigned herself to two weeks at Hogwarts if too many meals turned bad. Luna had tried to insist that she could toss food into the Room, and Ginny's trunk was still ready to take him with her in an emergency, but Ginny was resolute that it would be too dangerous to manage Riddle alone. Her only consolation was that they could leave Tom to his own devices for the some of the time with the stockpiled food. It would still constitute a sort of break.
"Curfew enacted in Hogsmeade." This came from McGonagall, writing in the last break between classes. "Retrieval tonight unlikely."
Colin kicked a suit of armor and then limped after Ginny on their way to Ancient Runes. Ginny kept her hand in her pocket as they walked, waiting for more. The next message did not come until after the final class ended for the day, but it was worth the wait.
"Aberforth can retrieve replacements in the morning at the earliest. Will fetch and relay to Head Girl while preparing the carriages."
The timing would be tight, but it was enough. The Gryffindors were in high spirits descending to dinner, which Snape saw fit to ruin. Luna joined them looking less than enthused.
"Snape's assigned your detention," she said, handing Ginny a piece of parchment. Ginny drew up short, dumbfounded, and read the short note. She was to report to the Headmaster's office at ten in the morning.
"Bloody hell," breathed Gregory, reading over her shoulder.
"It'll be alright," said Demelza as Ginny crumpled the parchment and stuffed it in her school bag. "We're all in this together. Everything will get done, you'll see."
Demelza did not know the half of it, and Ginny shared a despairing look with Luna. Luna would have too many responsibilities to tend to Tom. Ginny would need to both check Riddle's food and serve Snape's detention in the same morning. She would not be able to help the Muggle-borns at all until they were nearly on the train.
Her visit with Tom that night was brief, but promising. None of the food that she had enchanted in the morning had turned bad yet, but she would still need to check in the morning to be sure. She left as soon as she could, begging a need to pack, but she really wanted to freely check the D.A. coin burning a hole in her pocket.
The next morning had them all on edge. McGonagall was absent from the table, which Ginny noted with wary relief. She had been worried that the professor had given no further updates that morning, but reminded herself that McGonagall getting caught with the coin would be far worse than sparse updates. If McGonagall was not at breakfast, than she must be in Hogsmeade.
What made her nervous was that Alecto was also absent. She watched Snape and Amycus through her eyelashes as she ate, running through any possibility of where he might have sent her. Was she following McGonagall? Was that why she had not written on the coin?
Near the end of the meal, Snape descended from the table and collected both Harper and Luna for a brief discussion. Then he swept through the tables, pausing only next to Ginny.
"I expect you in my office in fifteen minutes," he sneered, anticipating their detention by almost an hour. Ginny nearly choked on her pumpkin juice, but he continued on unphased. She scrambled off the bench and fell in behind Luna and Harper, who were leaving the hall.
"I would like to switch jobs," said Luna. "I do ever so love spending time with the thestrals."
Harper scowled at her. "Absolutely not, Lovegood. The Headmaster specified that I'm to manage the students in the station, and you're to be in the castle. Besides, without Hagrid here, you get the draw the thestrals for the carriages. That's time enough. For once in your life, be reasonable and follow the—"
Luna stabbed her wand at the Head Boy in one swift motion, and he went silent. He blinked and then said, "Right, so you're down at the station, Lovegood."
He hurried away, already barking instructions at prefects as Luna tightened her grip on her wand. Ginny gaped at her. "Was that—?"
"I do not like at all how it feels," Luna murmured, paler than normal. The Imperius had no clear tells, but Ginny had seen the spell take effect in class. It seemed she was no longer the only one of them with an Unforgivable Curse under her belt.
"If Snape wants you in the castle, then you should be at the station," Ginny said. She squeezed Luna's hand. "Harper wouldn't have seen reason."
Luna's mouth soured, but she held Ginny's hand tight as she nodded. "I will go draw the thestrals now. I'll await McGonagall there."
Ginny hurried down to the kitchens to fetch her last heaping load of food for Riddle. She filled her school bag to the brim, more dates and nuts than she could count, and then lugged it up through the castle to serve her last detention with Snape.
Snape and Amycus were leaving the Headmaster's office when Ginny arrived, Amycus laughing heartily as Snape scowled. He thumped the Headmaster on the shoulder, none too aware of Snape's clear displeasure.
"You have nothing to worry about, Severus, not with Minerva—" The Death Eater fell silent when he noticed Ginny approaching, and instead twisted a nasty grin at her. Ginny went cold. Something was wrong, her misgivings flowering into full suspicion. She had assumed McGonagall was missing because she had gone to fetch the Portkeys, but what if that were not the case? If no one was retrieving the Porkeys, nearly fifty Muggle-borns would have no escape route. This was not something she could leave to chance.
Snape was perhaps a more accomplished Occlumens than even Tom Riddle. He had tricked even Dumbledore with his expertise. Either way, Ginny did not trust her paltry Legilimency against him. She would be in worse trouble than detention if she even tried.
Amycus Carrow, on the other hand, did not strike her as even a mediocre Occlumens.
Ginny took three steeling breaths. It would do no good to bungle the spell because she was nervous, and she only had one shot. Plus she would need to ignore Tom's cardinal rule to go looking for a very specific memory. She thought Carrow might be feeling some excitement from the nauseating look in his eyes. She could try to hook onto that.
Or maybe she would get lucky and accidently scramble his brains.
Her steps never faltered, but she drew her wand and narrowed her gaze to his. It was the first time she tried the spell non-verbally, and though the images were murky and disjointed, it worked nonetheless. She tipped her mind into his, looking for McGonagall.
The staffroom drifted before her eyes, where McGonagall sat rigid and bone-pale. Amycus' mind was perhaps more foul than even Riddle's, with all of his prejudice and none of his intellect. In McGonagall he saw only filth, a Muggle father and a Muggle lover.
"How dare you ask this of me, Severus."
"It is not personal, Minerva. Alecto does not feel sufficiently prepared to go alone, given her short term in her post, and Amycus will have his hands tied as we prepare for the students to leave for break. Although you no longer hold the post, your expertise will be greatly appreciated as the Deputy Headmaster plays ambassador to the Muggle-born Registration Commission."
McGonagall's lips were so thin as to be invisible, and Amycus felt sick glee at the sight. "Perhaps if Alecto does not feel sufficiently capable for the post, she ought not to hold it."
Amycus' delight turned to rage in the crack of a whip. He snapped to his feet and raised his wand, but Snape stilled him with one hand. His eyes were hard on McGonagall. "You will go, Minerva, at once, and you will do your duty to your school."
Ginny had seen enough, and pulled her mind back. She stopped in her tracks, horrified, wand still in her hand. If McGonagall was gone, accompanied by Alecto, then no one was getting the Portkeys from Hogsmeade.
Snape straightened as she stilled, shooting a glance at Amycus who was shaking out his head, perplexed. Snape's eyes widened and snapped back to her. For one fleeting instant their eyes met, and then he plunged his hand into his sleeve for his wand. Ginny spun on the spot and sprinted through a trick portrait. She heard Amycus cry out and a spell seared past her, but she was already spinning her wand around her head, taking the stairs two at a time. She burst from the passageway, invisible, and pounded down the corridor, down through every passageway she had carefully traveled for the past year, and out into the entrance hall. The door was opening, and Ginny squeezed through, fumbling to spell the D.A. coin as she dashed across the grounds to tell everyone the Portkeys were coming.
Her every lesson with Riddle was coming to fruition in this moment. Her Disillusionment Charm would never have been strong enough at the beginning of the year. There were dementors on the gates, but by now she had probably cast the Patronus more than any other spell in her life. It ran flush with the ground before her feet, scattering the dementors before her as she charged through and on towards Hogsmeade.
As she drew closer to town, the sensation of dementors started seeping into her bones. Her Patronus ran before her, a pulsing warm protection as she weaved through the town. Ducking into Hog's Head Inn on the heels of another patron, she slid behind the bar and into the kitchens, letting the spell drop.
"Portkeys," she gasped, clutching at her sides as she braced herself against the battered wooden counter.
The barman nearly dropped his armload of empty tankards when she appeared. He glared at her from behind a filthy pair of spectacles. "Who the bloody hell are you?"
"He sent McGonagall away. I need to take the Portkeys now. They'll be following me."
"Bloody hell," the old man grumbled, tossing the tankards in the sink. He seized Ginny by the elbow and hauled her up a rickety wooden staircase into a small sitting room above the bar. He flipped back the threadbare rug and tapped his wand in an odd pattern on a floorboard underneath. It shimmered, then Vanished, and the man reached down to pull out a small package wrapped in butcher paper, tied with a string.
"They had to make them on a timer. Noon, on the dot, outside Hogwarts grounds, or the wards will interfere. Be quick about it, girl."
She dropped the package in her bag and shifted the strap on her shoulder. It was still full of food for Riddle, so she took a few precious seconds to enchant it lighter. "Thanks, you have no idea how much it means to us that you risked—"
"Now is not the time for talking, girl," he interrupted gruffly, herding her down the stairs. "You get those kids out, and then you keep your head down. The Order is heaving their dying breaths with this hare-brained scheme, and I don't like to see children going down with them."
Ginny opened her mouth to refute this, but he was already bundling her out the side door of the pub. She stumbled out into the alley as the door slammed behind her, shocked that this man could have any relation to Dumbledore. However, he was correct about the lack of time. Taking a fresh lungful of air, she replaced the Disillusionment Charm, cast the Patronus Charm, and dashed out into the street.
The streets were filling as she ran, so that she had to dodge around groups of wizards. They looked ill-kempt, like they had just crawled through the Forbidden Forest and back, and her stomach swooped. Snatchers, she thought, from the descriptions on Potterwatch. They were all moving towards the road that circumvented Hogwarts, towards the station.
Her chest was burning by the time she made it back to the gates. Two more dementors had joined the others, but Ginny did not hesitate. Her instinct told her that slowing down would only mean getting caught, and so she charged through like she was rushing the goalposts while the rival Seeker had nearly gotten the Snitch. Her Patronus bucked out of the ground as they raced past, scattering the dementors once again.
But as she crossed the threshold of the gates, a feeling like cold fire licked down her body from temple to toes.
"There you are, welp!"
Ginny spun to face Amycus Carrow, waiting just inside the gates, her invisibility stripped by Hogwarts' wards. The Death Eater flung red sparks into the air, probably to notify Snape. He clearly did not anticipate a fight, but they were no longer in a classroom. This was not the first time Ginny had faced him.
Sweeping her wand in an arch, she got three spitfire Stunners off before he had even lowered his wand. She would not allow herself to get pinned down again dodging spells, not with the Portkeys to deliver. He slashed a shaky Shield Charm just in time, but Ginny had changed direction, her momentum carrying her down on him. She whipped Stunner after Stunner at him, relentless because she had learned how it felt, how it worked. Close enough now, she saw Amycus' piggy eyes widen with a sudden shock of fear, his back to the boundary wall. And then she broke through, finally clocking him on the shoulder. He spun with the force of the close-range spell, eyes rolling back, and Ginny was over him in a second, digging her wand into his temple.
"Obliviate," she hissed.
It was then that she felt a horrible chill at her neck, and she half fell to the ground as she turned and came face to face with a towering hooded figure, its slimy, scabbed hand mere inches from her nose. Another dementor glided through the gate behind the first, and Ginny scrambled back on the grass, her teeth chattering so hard that casting the spell would have been impossible, had she not spent months casting it nonverbally. Still the first attempt was only a faint wisp, and she dragged hard on her thoughts for a memory strong enough.
A Patronus in the shape of a mouse exploded from behind her, leaping over her head and charging at the dementors. Colin skidded to a stop a few paces behind it, grabbing Ginny as the dementors retreated. She crawled, fell, and scrambled to her feet alongside him, and then they were running up towards the castle.
"Merlin, Ginny, what were you thinking?"
"I—heard—Amycus—McGonagall's been sent away." She fumbled in her bag for the package and shoved it on Colin. "They'll activate—at noon—only outside the grounds."
"I'll take them to Luna. Go to the common room and get ready to leave."
They split ways, Colin heading for where the carriages were being lined up. Ginny replaced her invisibility, and hurried up towards the castle. She had a singular focus now, and very little time. She needed to take Riddle his food, and get her trunk. Then, she needed to get down to the station before anyone realized that she had left the grounds.
Her bad luck held, for Snape was waiting at the seventh floor landing when she arrived. Ginny stopped still on the stairs, holding her breath. Her Disillusionment Charm was good, perhaps good enough to squeeze past. She edged her way onto the landing when Snape's head turned and he looked straight at her.
He quickly eliminated any doubt that it was a fluke, drawing his wand and firing a wordless spell. Ginny dove for the floor, scrambling back as she kept low. He stalked forward, shooting low, and only barely missed her. Ginny's fear spiked. How had he—
Then it dawned on her. Thrice-damned Legilimency. Her mind was wide open, Occlumency forgotten in her haste, and Snape was taking full advantage.
For the umpteenth time that day, Riddle's lessons saved her. Even a week ago she would not have had the presence of mind to practice Occlumency while Snape nearly seared off her eyebrows. As it was, she found throwing up her guard while dodging spells was easier than enduring Riddle's mental pummeling. She knew it had worked when he suddenly stilled. She slipped closer to the wall as his mouth turned down.
"You are blundering forward, blind to the consequences of your actions," he said, beginning to advance. He seemed to be listening hard, no longer sure where she was precisely. "You cannot imagine the peril in which you place your friends."
Her heart seethed, but Ginny tamped down on it. Now that he could not track her, she moved slowly, quietly, aiming to get around him. The common room was not far, and the portraits around them were filling with spectators. Their noise would cover her footsteps.
Snape lost his patience, his lips curling so that he looked mad. "You will tell me now what you are planning, Weasley. Legilimens!"
His spell hit her like a Bludger to the head. He did not have Tom's finesse, but his Legilimency pressed down on her with the full weight of an unwavering mind, determined and hard. She started buckling almost immediately, her eyes going wide at the urgency with which he wielded the spell. When she tried feeding him false leads, recollections of painted graffiti, their little parties, he discarded them like trash, pressing staunchly onwards.
In that moment, Ginny realized how little esteem Tom had for her, why time after time that year she had gotten away with her lies and tricks and lackluster Occlumency. Despite real success in deceiving him, Tom did not truly believe her capable of it. She was beneath him.
Snape had no such illusions. He knew she was a threat, and he was desperate to break her. Worse, she was certain he would succeed.
Ginny changed direction and fled. A new plan formed in her mind as she ran. She did not need to be on the Hogwarts Express if her presence put their plan at risk. She could Apparate home, even face Snape, once the Muggle-borns were safe. Right now, she needed to get out of his grasp, away from his unflagging Legilimency. She abandoned the thought of hiding in the common room, where Snape could force entry. The remainder of Riddle's food was still in her bag to be delivered. She could kill two birds with one stone, and wait in the Room of Requirements until the Portkeys activated.
Snape heard her footfalls and sent another spell searing past her, but Ginny threw up a shield, no longer concerned with being unseen. She merely needed to escape, and she was aided by how many times she had beat this path. She could have run to the Room with her eyes closed and Snape, for all his magical prowess, did not have her athleticism. She soon outpaced him. When she reached the Room, she did not slow. She swung through the door, and slammed it shut behind her.
Tom looked up in surprise from the far corner of the Room.
"What happened? You are late," he said, crossing with quick strides. "You risk missing the train."
"No," she said, clutching at her sides. Merlin, she must have been running for an hour. Now that she had stopped, she felt as though she might be sick. "It's alright, I'm leaving later."
If he noticed the lie, he did not say anything. "You're in luck," he said. "Almost everything you enchanted yesterday has lasted the night. It seems we won't be stuck with each other for the break after all."
"Merlin, thank goodness," she wheezed. Finally, something that morning had not gone wrong. She began unpacking the food she had brought as he drew even with her. Her hands were shaking, and belatedly she realized that she had done it. She had outsmarted Snape and the Carrows and cleared the way for the Muggle-borns to escape. It was in the D.A.'s hands now, but she felt flush with victory. She would need to send Luna and the others a message with the coin, but by now Luna should be down at the station. If Snape came after her, she would be able to Apparate away.
Distractedly, she summoned Tom's tether, and handed him his breakfast. He took it with a smile.
"Thank you, Ginevra."
The sincerity in his tone made her look at him in question. His gaze bored into hers, and she barely had the presence of mind to focus on her Occlumency before he struck.
A memory floated before her eyes, but to her pleasure nothing she did not wish him to see. She saw herself falling from her brother's broomstick – stolen so that she could practice before insisting they let her play Quidditch with them. And before he could slide on to something different, more dangerous, she focused her whole mind and switched the polarity.
She had done it several times that week, with great effort, but this time it felt as though he had thrown a door open just as she slammed into it, sending her soaring through. Suddenly she was swimming in an ocean of his memories. A small room with a single bed and a wardrobe. Crouching in a field and listening to a snake grumble about the loud children who had overtaken his domain. A pencil stub spinning across his bedroom and hanging in the air before clattering to the floor. "Stand on the edge," he said, a command that could not be ignored, and two quivering children stepped up to the lip, staring down into churning water. Dumbledore, red-headed and young, watching him with a calm demeanor as he said, "I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to."
The memories were curated.
She tried to pull away from them, but he had his claws in her. She felt him counter and slice back into her mind, keeping her from reclaiming her vision. The memory of finding Tom's diary tucked in her secondhand books floated in her mind, but distantly she knew she had fallen to the floor, her leg twisted off kilter, shooting pain through her body. He spoke to her with power in his voice.
"Hand me your wand, Ginevra."
It was not the Imperius; there was no warmth, it was simply power. She fought. She could fight him off. He had no wand and she did—he couldn't—she tried to make her mind blank or just refuse him. Dimly, she realized her ribs were broken and she could barely breathe. Her mind swam, could not focus.
"Give me your wand." It was a command ringing with power. She felt her hand moving and her fingers slackening their grip. Her whole being turned to pulling it back, and then her fingers broke. The wand tipped into his hand.
The room came into focus one terrible moment before he said, "A happy memory, if you please."
Playing Quidditch with her brothers for the first time because Percy gave up his broom for her. She had scored a goal against Ron, and Charlie carried her up to the house on his shoulders. It had been perfect, and the memory slammed to the front of her mind.
"Imperio!"
The pain vanished and she had the beautiful sensation of floating. The feeling was familiar—when had she felt this recently?—but so, so much more. She felt wonderful, the memory of her family ringing through her head, fixed before her. There were no worries, no fears. She may well have been laying on a bedding of down, not the stone floor.
Cast the Patronus. The voice that drifted through her head sounded like her, or maybe it was a little bit off, but it made such great sense. She felt wonderful and she had the happy memory already. Something was missing, she thought, but, no, there it was in her hand, her wand. Cast the Patronus. Speak nothing through it.
From far away came the notion that this was a terrible mistake. Something was not right. But no sooner had the thought drifted to her than bliss crashed over her. Her brothers. Quidditch. Belonging. Floating in perfect peace. She had to cast her Patronus. Why ever would she not?
"Expecto Patronum."
It was a spell well-cast, and her mare galloped from the Room. Hazily, she was happy. The Patronus would reach Luna just as she intended. Her wand slipped from between her fingers. And then the haze broke.
Horror flooded over her at the same time as the pain. Everything hurt – her ribs, her fingers, her leg. Broken bones repaid, she realized, as she looked up into Tom's exultant face.
"Episkey," he said and her fingers flared hot and then cold, healed. To her shock, he repeated the spell on her ribs, and then a different spell altogether to set her leg, which was so badly broken that she could hardly look at it without feeling sick. He worked in silence until every bone was mended, and then he met her eye with a grim, stomach-curdling smile.
"I could hardly repay them tenfold if I waited for them to heal naturally each time. Besides, I do wish to cherish these moments together, and I would hate for you to swoon and so miss them."
She launched herself at him, but he was expecting it and caught her with a simple Impediment Jinx. He stepped out of her path as she moved torturously slow, tutting at her.
"Now, Ginevra, do not be rash. We spoke amiably when I was your prisoner. Will you not afford me the same privilege?"
"How did—What did you do?" she gasped as soon as the spell wore thin. "How is this possible?"
"Even as a child I was adept at controlling magic. True wandless magic is far more difficult than those parlor tricks, but I have had a year to practice. By the time I tricked this damned room into accommodating me, I could handle a Disillusionment Charm passably well."
"Disillusionment—?" She spun as Riddle indicated a corner of the room. And then she saw the shimmer, something she never would have seen had she not been looking for it. The corner was empty, clear empty air. She had never checked that corner because there was nothing to check.
But now the illusion vanished, and sitting in the corner was a cauldron bubbling over a fire.
"Now, we wait for dear Lovegood to release me."
It was impossible to process. Vaguely, she realized she must be in shock, because she could feel nothing but a buzz running at the back of her mind. It was like a mosquito or a terrible Muggle light. Riddle raised an eyebrow at her and moved to examine her satchel, which had spilled open on the floor. He plucked up the Marauders' Map first, pocketing it, and then began collecting the books that had tumbled free in her initial fall.
As Riddle thumbed through her things, the Spellotape holding together her secondhand Defense textbook finally lost its fruitless battle on the binding. Pages spilled across the floor and Ginny watched them flutter at her feet, heart thudding.
"Merlin, what a mess. What kind of witch are you?" With nearly imperceptible flicks of her wand, Riddle began re-assembling the book. His eyes darted unnaturally between the pages as they flew into the air before him, layering page upon page, until finally the cover was folding itself over the pages and Riddle was sliding his wand along the binding. Ginny could not help being entranced; it could never be said that Tom Riddle was not a talented wizard. She was not thinking when he shoved the book into her arms, knocking the breath out of her.
"Book-binding spells are easily accessible to anyone, and easy with even the minimum of practice. The idiocy of the majority of the Wizarding world is nothing short of astounding… Spellotape."
The book fanned open in her hands, perfect, and it was the last straw. Her shock shattered and the fear in her chest bubbled into hysteria. "You bastard!" she screamed, and hurled the book at him. He flicked it aside with the wand, but she was not done. "Who the hell cares if I know bookbinding spells? You're going to kill me! Don't mend my books before you murder me!"
With a snap of the wand, he shoved her back. Stumbling and ungainly, she fell into the chair behind her. "The truth comes out. I am curious; in your last minutes, do tell me what you really think of me."
"You know," she gasped, flinching back as the wand prodded forward. "Do you like hearing me say it out loud? I'm scared of you; you know that. I'm a Gryffindor, not a masochist."
"Correct." He slashed the wand at her again, and she bucked in the seat, screaming. The only blessing of the Cruciatus Curse was that the pain could not increase, only last longer. Riddle held it out longer than the Carrows. She screamed her throat raw and clung to the armrests.
Every bit of her was shaking when he released her and her thoughts spun, a familiar cocktail of fear and anger. "You're an aggravating show-off," she said through clattering teeth. "But of course you would be; you're an incredible wizard. I haven't lied to you when I've told you what I think of you, and you know that too, because you have that damned lie-detector Legilimency trick. What the hell do you want from me that I haven't already told you?"
"The truth."
"Sod off, Riddle. I tell you the truth in everything that matters. I admire you. You scare me. You will throw away everything about yourself that makes you you if you join You-Know-Who. You should fight with us."
His teeth clenched. "Enough!" In two strides he met her and she stepped up to meet him, head thrown back. With a deft hand he plucked a hair from her head and held it between them. "I have a train to catch. I promise to give your family your regards."
The cauldron drew her eye and suddenly she realized why the Room for weeks had smelled so terrible. The Order kept a reasonable quantity of Polyjuice Potion on hand. She had even taken her turn tending it while it brewed over the fire in Grimmauld Place during one summer there, and she should have recognized the scent. It struck her worse than any curse.
She spun back on Riddle, eyes wild. "No!"
He struck so fast she hardly saw the red light before she blacked out.