Difficulties of Avoidance
by dead2self
A/N: Buckle up, things are kicking into gear in this chapter! Enjoy and thanks to everyone who's commented in the past few months!
Ginny's heart sank. She should have known, should have guessed. "This won't work," she said, hating herself a little bit. "I passed messages to the Order."
"Then you did them a disservice. You've only placed them between me and what's mine."
Ginny shook her head, beating back the rising panic, but Riddle was not patient. "Now, now," he tutted. "Are you going back on your word?"
"Are you? Did you Stupefy me?"
"It was a harmless sleeping spell; you could use it on a child."
Harmless, perhaps, but her head was still groggy. It did not help matters that she was wearing someone else's skin.
"I would be more than happy to pick up my weapons once more," he said. "Your choice, Weasley."
"Fine, you vulture," she snapped. "But Dumbledore will have prepared her for this. It'll give me nothing but pleasure to see you with egg on your face after all this effort."
"It may not work the first time or even the second, but there are three meals in a day, and I've now been personally introduced to your friends. It's only a matter of time."
Ginny requested their breakfast and Riddle immediately cast a Full Body-Bind Curse to keep her from calling out or otherwise signaling Ariana. She laid rigid on the floor, her heart thundering, as she watched Riddle leap out of the hammock and approach the painting.
"Oh, thank goodness! Please, tell them I've got my wand back! I need to get out and help my friends. I talked with everyone on the coin, did they contact Aberforth?"
Bloody hell, how'd he—The day she ran all the way to Hogsmeade, dodging Dementors and Snatchers and Death Eaters only to get caught by Tom. He must have remembered the name of the barman from the memory.
There was no time to berate herself. She could move nothing but her eyes, and she must have looked deranged widening them to stare panicked at Ariana. The waiflike girl bent closer to the frame, peering down at Tom, and then over his shoulder at Ginny.
"Dumbledore must have told you who he is, or at least that you needed to keep him here. And I'm grateful, truly, you've saved more people than you know by not opening up for him. But I'm Ginny, and I need to get out. My friends need me. Look—" He stepped back from the portrait and waved her wand. Light burst from it, coalescing in a mare that took a gallop about the Room.
Ginny's heart nearly stopped. That was her Patronus, how in the world had he—?
Ariana watched the spell as it faded, uncertain, and then pointed at herself. Tom cocked his head. "I don't understand." Ariana pointed even more insistently and Tom's brow crumpled. "I'm so sorry, I don't understand. If you can't let me out, can you bring us breakfast? We had a fight, we were both unconscious for hours. I'm so hungry."
Ariana frowned, but turned and ran out of the painting. Once she was gone, Tom dropped his act, frowning himself. "Bloody Patronuses," he sighed, stalking back towards Ginny, and she realized what had happened. Tom had produced merely an illusion, and Ariana had wanted him to send it through the portrait to verify it.
Ginny felt a sudden rush of affection for Dumbledore, helping them even from beyond the grave. She did not feel much relief at Tom's failure, however, because his mimicry had been uncannily good. When Ariana came back with the food, Tom thanked her as Ginny had all the times before, and asked her again to find a way to open the passageway.
"They can escort us both out. I'll even give them my wand if they're worried I'm Imperiused or something." He glanced over his shoulder at Ginny, on the floor. "I'll keep using the Full Body-Bind, but I have to undo it for him to eat. You have no idea how powerful he is. The sooner we're with the Order, the better."
Ariana chewed her lip, but left them as Tom brought the plates over to the armchairs and their small table. He tucked into his breakfast and released Ginny only once the portrait had vanished. She crawled sullenly to her feet and joined him.
"Bet you wish you could cast a Patronus now."
"It is turning out to be a more versatile spell than I gave it credit for," Tom grumbled, sliding her plate to her.
"Shall I help you find a happy memory?"
"At my peril. Have you ever heard the tale of Raczidian?" Ginny raised one brow and stuffed her mouth with scrambled eggs. "Insufficiently pure of heart, his attempt at the Patronus instead produced maggots that consumed him alive."
Ginny wrinkled her nose. "Gross. Even I wouldn't want you to go out like that."
Riddle inclined his head in mock thanks, but he had gotten Ginny thinking.
"Pure of heart would be a stretch," she said, "but maybe you could cast it if your Horcruxes are destroyed."
"I said it's handy, not indispensable. I'll make do without it."
"I'm serious. You always put me off this, but how many did you make before you got pulled here?"
She certainly did not expect him to answer, but after a calculated silence, he sighed. "Just one after the diary. What do you know?"
It so shocked her that she did not even stop to mock him. She thought of Dumbledore in her family's kitchen, pulling his blackened hand into his sleeve. "There was something else besides the diary. I think it cursed Dumbledore before he destroyed it."
A shadow passed Riddle's face. "No, he can't have. Not unless he were willing to unleash Fiendfyre in Hogwarts, and your precious headmaster too feared the Dark Arts to risk that."
"You don't think Dumbledore could think of another way?"
"The receptacle must be destroyed beyond magical repair. Although…" His mouth thinned, and she thought he went a touch pale. It was hard to tell with her complexion.
"They must have a way," she said. "They can't be going about it blindly. What was it, the one that cursed Dumbledore? Was it yours?"
"It is a ring, a heirloom of my family." He smiled unexpectedly, giving her a sly look. "And the curse I left upon it would have killed him within the year had my servant not done its work early."
" What?" Dumbledore had never let on. Had Snape known? He could not have, otherwise he would have simply let the Headmaster die naturally and he would still be within their ranks, a wolf in sheep's clothing.
"Well, if it is destroyed, it is to my advantage. One less to do myself."
Ginny choked on her water, and Riddle watched her with some amusement as she coughed up a lung. "Did you think I planned to usurp my position by asking nicely?" Tom asked while she recovered.
"You'll be mortal then!"
"Perhaps. But that is easily remedied."
"Easily?" Ginny asked, her stomach turning. "Making a Horcrux is easy?"
Tom's face shuttered. "No. And yes."
Ginny found that she did not wish to know any more on that topic, and finished her breakfast in silence. She was floored that Tom planned the destruction of his own Horcruxes, and something was building up in her chest that she did not want to acknowledge.
She just had to make it until he fell asleep. Then she could ask the Room for a way out and melt the tether. And perhaps they would find Luna, and then she could be the one to grab Tom by the shoulders and shake some sense—
No, she had to keep her head on straight. She made a decision weeks ago, in the grey of the morning, to see Riddle with eyes unclouded. To accept nothing of his scraps when she wanted more. He was not changed – except for the incredible, earthshattering changes – and he was not trustworthy – accept in his self-serving negotiation – and he was not on her side – except that he evidently wanted to accomplish the most difficult part of Harry's quest himself.
But why in Merlin's name, if he wanted the Horcruxes destroyed, did he not want Ginny on his side? Why not tell her he would help them, and then betray them at the last moment?
The resolve she had maintained for days finally broke.
"Why do you not want to work together?" she cried, slamming her hands down on the table. Tom all but jumped, staring at her in surprise. "We have a common enemy and a more common cause than I ever thought possible. I know why I don't want to, but it is insulting that you have not even tried to recruit me. You are alone."
"Perhaps because of your untimely and earsplitting outbursts?" he said dryly.
"What good does your pride do you against the Dark Lord?"
" My pride? As though you would content yourself with being a follower."
"Why settle for a follower when you could have a partner?"
Riddle arched his brow as though to say she was making his point for him. "Call it what you want. I ask unquestioning obedience, something of which you are incapable."
"You're not capable of that either."
He shook his head. "I hate to see you insulted, Weasley, but I already know your answer. To ask would be a waste of time. You on the other hand…" He crossed his arms and regarded her. "I dreaded an onslaught, and yet you've been silent as a house-elf."
"I've asked lots of times, and you spit it back in my face."
"Not since you figured it out. Why?"
"I was distracted by half-assed fairytale readings," she shot back, aiming to get under his skin. His mouth soured, but to his credit, he merely waited. She frowned, and answered.
"Because I don't want your talents without your friendship. They'll be nothing but poison without it."
Riddle quirked a thin smile. "You don't think I'm capable of friendship."
She opened her mouth to protest and then swallowed her words, remembering the odorless Amortentia Potion in Riddle's memories. "I certainly wouldn't stake my life on it," she answered. She studied him for a moment, and then said, "But you don't know my answer, Riddle. Ask me."
He held the silence between them, measuring it. Then he said, "Would you like to become a Death Eater, Ginevra?"
The words were honeyed enough to be taken as sarcasm, and weighty enough for her to respond truly. He really was something else. She looked him in the eye and grinned.
"Of course not, you idiot. Go to hell."
Tom laughed, turning towards the bed. "Well, at least we only wasted a few breaths."
It was odd seeing the back of her own head. There were spells for that, for curling your hair and such, but this angle was new. Ginny glanced down at her hands, long and spidery, and had the absurd thought that Riddle must have fixed her hair. She certainly did not look that good after more than a week in captivity.
"How long is this going to last?" she asked, gesturing at her face. She had to assume he was proficient enough to make a Polyjuice Potion that lasted longer than an hour, but surely she would not be stuck like this the entire day.
He settled down with the deck of Exploding Snap and started dealing himself a solitaire hand. "We'll take our next doses when I say so."
Ginny could not help but cringe. "Shouldn't you conserve your stock for sneaking into your inner circle? Who are we trying to fool now, the wallpaper?"
"I have plenty."
"Who are you going to be? Snape?"
"How? I hardly know him."
"Going to rise up through the ranks as a Snatcher? I saw them in Hogsmeade; looks like they let basically anyone in."
"I already told you, I'm not discussing—"
A flash of light cut him off and Ginny looked up as a faint rabbit hopped feebly through the near-forgotten door into the seventh floor corridor. It shimmered just inside the room, and then Luna's whispery voice said, "Help Tom."
The Patronus disappeared, and with a chilling simplicity, the lock clicked open.
Time seemed to slow as it did when she was zeroing in on the goalposts, just her and the Keeper. She burst into movement. Pulling the Gurdyroot from her braid, she squeezed it over the tether. It sizzled and snapped, and then she was lunging for the door, inches away from freedom. Tom shouted a spell that wrenched her backwards and she shrieked as he lunged past her. His hand closed around the handle, the handle moved, and he turned to look back at her, eyes glinting and sharp. Flush with victory, he flung the door open.
A flash of red light threw him back into the room, screaming. Alecto Carrow stood on the threshold, face twisted first vicious and then confounded, her target apparently not who she expected.
"Weasley?" said Carrow, stepping into the room. "Well, well, Snape has been looking for you, too."
Ginny leapt to her feet, for Riddle was writhing helpless on the floor, her wand clutched in his hand. Carrow spotted her, in Riddle's body, and her face lit. "That you, Potter?"
And she turned her wand from Riddle to Ginny.
"No!" Ginny cried as Riddle roared with rage and slashed her wand at Carrow. The witch shrieked as she flew back into the corridor, hitting the wall with the force of the Hogwarts Express. She crashed to the floor and did not move again.
Riddle crawled to his feet, shaking in the aftereffects of the Cruciatus Curse, and tied Ginny with cords before she could make another dash for the door. He bounded into the corridor and cast a spell that flowed down the corridor. From where Ginny lay in front of the door, she could see him standing over Carrow's crumpled body. He toed at the sleeve of her robe, and then half-smiled.
"She has my mark," he said, his voice strangely muffled. "The Deputy Headmistress?" He bent and ran the wand along it. "She's neither activated it nor died, lucky for us." He pointed the wand to the witch's forehead, performing a memory spell Ginny recognized, and then another she did not.
Ginny snarled in wordless frustration as she strained against the cords. She spotted the frayed ends of her tether, and shuffled towards it in desperation. Positioning herself, she was able to roll on top of it, and she heard an encouraging sizzling.
"Oh Merlin's beard!" Riddle seized her by the back of her collar and the cords fell off of her as he bundled her into the corridor. He dumped her next to Alecto, and bound her once more. "No more surprises from you."
He had taken the witch's wand, but not Ginny's voice. They were leaning against the tapestry of the dancing trolls, who were none too happy at the invasion of their space. "No, listen to me," she whispered to them. "Can you leave the tapestry? Go get McGonagall." The largest troll in the most extravagant tutu seized a boulder from the background and threw it in Ginny's direction. Desperate, she looked further down the hallway for any more intelligent portraits. What she would not give to find Sir Cadogan.
"Help!" she called. "Get McGonagall! Death Eaters in the seventh floor corridor!"
Her voice should have carried, being deeper than normal, but instead there was a tinny quality to it, as though it was being swallowed up by the air. A portrait three yards away did not blink even as she yelled at the top of her lungs.
"Bellow all you like, Weasley," called Riddle. "No one will hear you."
Ginny raised her voice again just for spite and then caught her breath, looking down the corridor. It was as empty as it had been all year. She would have welcomed even Snape in that moment – at least a duel held the possibility of snatching a fallen wand – but Ginny was alone.
It hit her all at once. Failure. Perhaps the most crucial failure of her life. Tom Riddle was free.
He appeared in the doorway, her schoolbag slung over one shoulder and Ginny looked up into her own face, desperate. In that moment, her pride snapped.
"Please, Tom," she said. "Don't do this."
He scoffed. "Don't beg, Weasley. It's beneath you."
"I'm not begging for my life. You could have more than power."
He looked down at her, still for but a breath. One breath in which she thought she saw a flicker pass over his features; not hesitation, not doubt, not regret, but perhaps resignation. Then he shouldered her satchel, and stepped out of the Room. His face transformed as he shut the door – certain, sure, and full of purpose.
"No. It's time to go."
Disillusioned to rival Harry's Invisibility Cloak, they moved down through the castle. Riddle Silenced her, but she would not have called out regardless. Once they started slipping undetected past students, she knew anyone who saw him would be in danger.
She floated beside him in a strange echo of the first night he escaped, the night of Dumbledore's death. Alecto sometimes bumped against her, until they left her slumped over in her classroom. Riddle continued on with Ginny alone.
Her initial surprise that he was taking her with him slowly grew into dread. She could only think of a few reasons he might keep her with him with a batch of Polyjuice Potion on hand, and none were good. One was horrific. He had given her his word on her family, but what did that mean when she no longer held any power over him?
The castle was quiet, the few students who milled about speaking in hushed tones. She did not spot any Muggle-borns, but even the Slytherins were subdued. She thought she saw Harper, but Riddle was moving too quickly for her to be sure. Even invisible, she could sense his urgency, his excitement. He knew the castle as well as she did, hopping over trick staircases, and slipping through false walls without pause. Ginny's view was limited, but she soon realized that they were not heading for the entrance hall, or even a passageway out of the castle.
They were going to the second-floor girl's bathroom.
Ginny bucked when she figured it out. It was an instinctual reaction. It was not as though she had not set foot in the bathroom since her first year. At a certain point convenience overruled her dread of the place. But she knew down to her bones that he planned to take her down into the Chamber. He had all but told her that he needed a new Horcrux. " Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever," he'd written in her hand and now the vindictive, poetic ass would make good on it.
She nearly knocked Tom into a passing group of Ravenclaws when she flailed. Her heart flew into her throat, but he must have managed to twist away from them, for they carried on nonplussed. Then Ginny hit the wall and felt Tom's hand on her shoulder. She went ramrod straight, a Full Body-Bind.
When they slipped into the bathroom, Tom locked the door and shed their invisibility. The Polyjuice Potion had worn off and Ginny supposed he wanted to experience her full horror before he dropped her to her death. She stilled her features to stark murder.
He cocked a brow as he set her on the floor, and cast the same spell he had used in the seventh floor corridor. She heard his voice as though it were far away. "Oh, calm yourself. I'm not leaving you in the Chamber. I've dreamt of it, but I have use of you."
Ginny's heart stuttered. Why would he lie? As her mind scrambled for purchase, he turned to the faucets.
"Do you mind?" said Moaning Myrtle, shrill as she swooped out of her stall. "There aren't supposed to be boys in here—"
She stopped short as Tom spoke in Parseltongue, her pale and blotchy face going a smooth paper white. Her mouth formed a small 'o' as the tap began to glow and spin like a pinwheel. A heartbeat later, she whispered, "I recognize your voice. You're the one who killed me."
Tom turned in surprise even as the entrance to the Chamber opened behind him, and then Ginny was shocked to hear him bark out a laugh. "Merlin! And your first thought when you became a ghost was to haunt Olivia Hornby?"
Myrtle had already begun screwing up her face for a fantastic display of misery, until recognition shocked across her features. "But you—I know you, you're Tom Riddle. How—"
His laughter went high and cold. "I worried for weeks that you would recognize me and go straight to Dippet. You really were just a stupid Mudblood after all!"
Myrtle screwed up her face and dived into the nearest toilet with a pained shriek. The faucets on the sinks all shot open and Ginny could already tell the bathroom would be flooded in minutes.
"Oh no, you don't," Riddle chuckled, flicking her wand in the direction Myrtle had fled. Then he planted his feet and pulled as though he had caught a whale on the other end of the line. His eyes were bright as Ginny's wand began to bend, and then she heard a horrible, otherworldly howl. It could not even properly be called a scream because it was not a voice, more the sound of nails on a chalkboard. Myrtle pulled through the doors of her stall, rigid as a corpse and mouth agape.
"I was only scared at first," Tom said, straining. "I have had several years to consider what I could do to shut you up if I ever needed to. Luckily, no one thinks to talk to ghosts."
With a final heave, Myrtle spun into the air before him, her eyes wide with horror. Riddle stepped up to her and dipped the tip of the wand into her forehead.
"No one, except for me. Obliviate."
The spell was sluggish coming out of her wand, as though it was being held back at the same time. Spells like memory charms should have no purchase on ghosts, should go straight through them, but this one danced on the surface of Myrtle's forehead. It pulsed, and then seemed to absorb into her. Myrtle shuddered, and then her head shot back with the force of the spell, blue light spilling from her eyes. The ghost crumpled to the floor, her edges blurring, and Riddle turned on Ginny with obvious satisfaction.
"Other people talk to ghosts, you idiot," she said when he removed the Silencing Charm and the Full Body-Bind. The tremendous display had done nothing but make her want to undercut him. "That's how Harry found the Chamber my first year."
He hauled her to her feet. "You just saw me Obliviate a ghost, and that's what you have to say to me?"
"I'll certainly not nominate you for the Order of Merlin for bullying your murder victim."
Tom rolled his eyes as he closed the faucets with a wave of the wand, and marched her to the edge of the hole in the sinks. "Why scrape for the accolades of a myopic institution when I could have so much more?"
"You think you'll be satisfied with more of what you already have when it's never held any joy for you?"
"What do I have now? Nothing but crippling promises and a liar who won't give me a moment's peace." His lips curled with some private humor, and then he pushed Ginny into the pipe.
She went headfirst, crying out, and swept quickly out of sight. She tried to turn and lodge herself against the walls of the pipe to stop herself, but the sides were too slippery and she only managed to get a mouthful of water that she would rather not think about. After a few tight turns she did right herself so that she was going feet first.
Her speed picked up, and she twisted and turned deeper and deeper under the school. There was no indication Tom was following, no sound or splashes beyond her own. She had not been fully conscious for her first trip to the Chamber and the journey was longer than she had thought possible. As she tumbled, so did her mind, through confusion and fear and then a solidifying idea of what Tom intended for her.
If she was not to be a new Horcrux, and he truly did not intend to make good on his old threats of revenge, then that left only one clear use for her. He could not impersonate Snape because he did not know him, but that was not an issue with her. He had once told her that Voldemort would not turn away a pureblood witch with intelligence on his enemies. He could easily use her face as a mask, and betray all that she loved in her name.
Even if he never laid a finger on her family, he could destroy them all the same.
By the time the pipe evened out and she shot out onto the wet, hard landing, her thoughts had fully turned back to rage. Merlin's beard, but she should have torn Tom down with all her strength the moment she had realized his decision. She could have eviscerated him with his shame, and instead they had chatted about Quidditch. Sitting up, she seized a rock and hurled it against the wall with all her strength. It cracked loudly, and the sound echoed down the tunnel, but that at least spent some of her anger.
Climbing to her feet in the low tunnel, she got her bearings, and then noticed a glowing blue line around her ankle. It was faint, thin like candy floss, and her finger passed straight through it. It led from her ankle back up the pipe. She peered up the pipe and then down the tunnel. The Chamber must be up ahead. What in Merlin's name did Tom intend now?
Then in one full, enveloping moment, Ginny realized that she felt no traces of terror. Fear, yes, that Tom would leave her there to die despite what he had said. Confusion. Anger. Worry. But this place had haunted her nightmares for years. Long past the initial trauma, it struck anew in her dreams when she least expected it. It was her Boggart, her doubt. Her sure reminder that evil could find her, and that evil would hurt her. When she had stumbled upon Tom Riddle behind a tapestry a year ago, it still had its claws in her.
Now standing on its threshold, she felt none of that old horror. Her hands were steady, her heart sure. The Chamber of Secrets no longer had a hold on her. She started forward, moved now by curiosity.
There was the cave-in just ahead, with a small section cleared. She had climbed through that hole with Harry, sobbing and grateful that he had not told Ron of her part in opening the Chamber. It looked so small now, but she shifted a few rocks and was able to squeeze through once more.
Ginny picked her way through the last remains of a decomposing snakeskin before she arrived at the door and stopped. It was less a door than a wall carved with two serpents, their eyes glittering even in the gloom. That was as far as she could go.
The floor here was dry, and so after a pause she settled on the ground in front of the door. Tom's absence was a blessing in disguise, a moment to gather her thoughts. Perhaps this was the best outcome they could have hoped for. It was a failure, to be sure, but not completely. Tom was not charging off to join himself. It was not what she wanted, but maybe it was enough. A house divided would not stand.
What she needed was grounds for negotiation. If he planned to keep her with him for the Polyjuice Potion, perhaps she could influence him. She had certainly impacted him more than she ever thought possible. But there was little she could do if he kept her unconscious in a trunk à la Mad-Eye Moody.
She heard Tom coming before she could see him. The sound of rocks grinding must be him shifting the entire cave-in rather than merely climbing through. The blue line on her ankle pulsed, and not long after, he rounded the corner looking pleased.
"Why are we here?" she asked sharply, her anger not entirely dissolved by her grudging acceptance of this new challenge.
"To assuage a baseless paranoia you've hoisted on me," he answered dryly. "Touch the wall."
Ginny wanted cross her arms and root herself to the floor, but that would be a poor opening salvo to getting what she wanted. Grinding her jaw, she climbed to her feet and pressed her palm to the wall just between the snakes. Nothing happened, but she noticed the Tom was frowning at the blue line that drew from her wand to her ankle.
"Can you approximate the word in Parseltongue to open them?"
"I can't remember opening it," she said, stepping back from the wall. "I was possessed."
He pulled his attention away from the spell to arch an eyebrow at her. "I opened the faucets not ten minutes ago. Do you have the memory of a goldfish?"
For Merlin's sake. She planted her hands on her hips. "You want me to approximate hissing noises I've heard once? How long do you want to stand here?"
"Fine, come here," he said, stepping closer to her. He drew her wand along his forearm and with a jolt Ginny realized that he had cut himself. Blood welled up in a fine line, crossing the jagged patch of skin where his Dark Mark should have been.
"What are you doing?" Ginny asked, jerking back as he stepped too close to her.
"Stand still," he said, and dipped his middle finger in the blood.
"Blood magic?" she yelped, throwing up a hand to block him.
"Just barely. I said, stand still," he said lowly, and suddenly it was a threat. Ginny's stomach dipped as she went still, willing herself to not think about it as Tom drew a rune in blood on her forehead and then another on her breastbone and on both her wrists. He made her kick off her shoes, and then drew a rune on each foot. When he was finished, he murmured an incantation. The runes burned, not painful, but not right either. Ginny shifted with deep unease and Tom smiled.
"Dumbledore spurned Dark magic," he said, "but there has always been debate on whether or not blood wards are curses or not. The Ministry itself seems to change its mind every twenty years or so. I would never have entertained the thought that he had access to this place had you not spoken of the ring, but if he truly did destroy a Horcrux, the only conceivable alternative to Fiendfyre is Basilisk venom. And I am no longer the only Parseltongue Dumbledore knew."
"You think he left blood wards against you?"
"It would be the wise thing to do. Fortunately, they will now react to you in my stead."
Ginny's hackles rose, but before she could respond, he spoke in Parseltongue. Spinning, she saw the wall crack open. She braced herself as the entrance unfurled, but after a few seconds it was clear that nothing was going to happen. Tom's eyes glinted as he peered into the chamber, columns rising high out of sight, but he did not move to enter.
"If you please," he said, gesturing her forward.
She crept into the chamber, peering into the oddly green gloom. Her memory of the place was fragmented. She had woken up just underneath the statue of Slytherin, at the far end. And there, crumpled next to the wall, was the giant skeleton of the basilisk. It was a river of ribs, its great skull laying sideways. It dwarfed her even now, and Ginny felt a sudden surge of affection for Harry. How small he must have been, only one year older than her, facing this creature and winning.
"Check its mouth," said Riddle from the entrance and Ginny hurried across the hall to do as he asked.
"Aren't you coming?" she asked.
He did not answer, idling on the threshold until she bent over the skull. "One of the fangs is missing," she murmured, and then crouched down. "Oh, but it's here on the floor." This was the fang Harry used to destroy the diary, she realized. She froze with her hand outstretched, and glanced up at Tom.
"Will this poison me?" she called.
"Not unless you cut yourself with it," he answered, and so she picked it up. It was the size of her forearm.
"This saved my life," she said, straightening.
"And yet it is still here," Tom mused.
"Maybe they brought the Horcrux here to destroy it," said Ginny, but Tom looked unconvinced. A smile curled on his face as he entered the chamber. Alarm flared in Ginny's mind – he no longer thought he needed her – but Tom paid her no mind. He looked up into the face of the towering statue of his ancestor and then the carcass of his horrible legacy.
"Such a waste," he breathed.
She had never seen Tom with respect for anyone or anything, but here he was reverent. It was clear in his eyes, in the softness of his step. This was his cathedral, and it turned her stomach to see it.
Perhaps she should have measured her words, but in many ways they had stopped pretending while trapped together. Here, of all places, she was not going to pull her punches.
"I'm worth more than a bloody snake," she said, quiet, but her voice echoed off the walls. "And if you give him any credence, I have more right to be here than you do"
"If that was the case, the basilisk would have killed me the first time I opened the Chamber." He stepped up next to her, running his long fingers along the spine of the snake. His voice was quiet too. "No, this is where I knew my worth."
Ginny arched a brow. There was something honest and profound in that, though he certainly did not realize what he was sharing with her. She had asked him once what it was like finding the Chamber for the first time. Now she had her answer, and she twisted the knife.
"And you failed him. How ashamed he'd be of you."
Tom's hand stilled on the skeleton. Ginny braced herself, but when he lifted his eyes they were only hardened with resolve.
"Maybe so. But he is dead, having entrusted his legacy to a creature when he should have ensured it himself. I will be my own legacy."
His clear condescension towards his ancestor shocked Ginny enough that she forgot her line of attack. Instead, she found herself lying her hand next to his and speaking even more softly. "Make it a legacy that's worth something, Tom. Something more than this."
He did not even look at her. His gaze turned to his own hand, laid on bone, and his lips curled. "I've never aspired to less."
Her heart plummeted. Their hands were nearly touching, but it felt as though she had run headlong into a wall between them. What they defined as worth was worlds apart, and her words were as useless as ever.
Smaller battles, she reminded herself, pulling her hand away. She should concentrate her efforts where she could do some good, and not on swaying Tom beyond his limits. "You won't get far alone."
He chuckled, stooping to peer up into the mouth of the snake. "So you've said," he intoned, and his mouth thinned. He straightened abruptly. "Come, we've finished here."
He turned for the door, but Ginny caught his elbow and pulled him back around. "So, I don't think that's what you're planning to do," she said, throwing her shoulders back and looking him full in the eyes. "You're planning to be me."
"Did you really think I'd let you keep a poisonous weapon?" he asked, ignoring her to snatch the basilisk fang that she still held in her fist. He dropped it into her school bag, where it made a long echoing sound like it had fallen a great distance.
Scowling, Ginny pushed further. "It's not a bad plan, except that you'll never convince the Death Eaters that you're me without my cooperation."
"Sloppy and desperate," he intoned, turning again for the door. "I told you I would not discuss my plans."
She scampered after him. "Then your plans are going to fail."
"Are they? Enlighten me."
"Are you going to play the woman scorned, or will I just go mad on a whim? No one will believe that of me."
He hissed a word in Parseltongue to close the two serpents behind them, and then turned a sneer on her. "Perhaps your actions will speak for themselves."
Ginny banished the thought before it could take on full imagery in her mind, but the insinuation was enough to turn her blood cold. Her instinct was to strike back, to reach for words that would lay him bare on the floor of his precious sanctuary—but somehow the cruelty in his gaze grounded her. He wanted to hurt her, to scare her. It seemed he was not as untouched by her comments in the Chamber as he pretended.
"You aren't trying to convince my friends and family," she answered, keeping her voice level as she retrieved her trainers. "The Carrows might be fooled, but Lucius Malfoy and his son? Draco was in school with me, and we hated each other."
"The Malfoys have fallen from favor," he said. At her look of surprise, he added, "Your Muggle Studies professor was something of an open book.
"That doesn't matter. I've been fighting Snape tooth and nail; he'll never believe you."
Tom found humor in that. "So you're useless as a disguise and I ought to leave you to rot in the Chamber after all?"
They arrived at the mouth of the pipe, and Ginny pulled up short, crossing her arms.
"Don't be silly, Tom. I've sold You-Know-Who plenty of lies. I consider it an area of expertise."
He turned to regard her with clear exasperation. "Right. If I ever need humbled, I'll wake you up for a chat."
"So it'll be a daily thing, then? We can pencil in a standing appointment after lunch."
That earned the smile she wanted, and that was hope enough. She would not deceive herself. Their rapport, real though it was, was not friendship. But Merlin, if she had not earned some shriveled shred of camaraderie. He studied her a moment, and she could have sworn he was weighing her offer.
"Not an hour ago you told me you would not be my follower." His lips quirked. "To go to hell. But perhaps our circumstances have changed your mind. Would you give me unquestioning obedience?"
Ginny froze. If it put her in a position to influence him, could she? She had no illusions that he would shelter her from horror. It would truly be signing her soul to the devil. But if the alternative was being sidelined for the most important fight of their time… Could she do unspeakable things for the greater good?
But her pause was answer enough for Tom. "I thought as much," he said, and Ginny saw that strange look flicker across his features again. What did he care that she would not join him on such ludicrous terms? "But perhaps I may wake you from time to time for your invigorating company."
It reeked of manipulation, but it was better than nothing. Small battles, she reminded herself. He turned back to the pipe and peered up the steep incline, frowning.
"This part was easier with a basilisk," he said, and it was so unexpectedly pragmatic that Ginny laughed out loud.
"An opportune moment to practice flying," she said, and he flashed her a full smile as he reached up to seize the edge of the tunnel. Despite his comment, it seemed there were handholds inside the pipe, because he hauled himself up easily.
Ginny made to follow him, when suddenly Tom went rigid. She jerked back as a wash of red sparks danced along his skin and a rune burned in her vision like black spots after a flashbulb.
Then the tunnel exploded and she was thrown off her feet.