Fifteen: Tom Riddle

The words hung in the air between them, the cold night wind blowing and making their robes billow. The garden was pretty, despite it all. Spring had brought the roses forth in bloom. Basked in the moonlight, it was almost romantic. Ginny could imagine Voldemort's father bringing many a girl from the village here. Not that Voldemort would ever understand, no more than he could ever understand her pronouncement that Harry was a greater wizard than he had ever been.

"Harry Potter?" he echoed, then laughed. "Really? I understand how there may have been some delusions in the past involving this reputed chosen one. But I like to think I settled that debate rather definitively when I killed him. You should know. You were there."

"That just shows how little you know, Tom," she spat out.

A flicker of annoyance passed over his face at the use of his common name. "Ah, yes. Let me guess, Harry was a greater wizard than me because he could love?"

Ginny shook her head, smiling despite it all, because who couldn't when remembering Harry. "No, because he was loved." The Phoenix song was getting louder, almost drowning out Voldemort's voice.

"Really? It reminds me of that tripe Dumbledore used to spout. The greatest force in the universe… As if that could ever be anything than a wizard's power at the tip of his wand."

"It is though, Tom," she said. "And I'll show you exactly what it means. I wasn't strong enough four years ago in the Chamber of Secrets, but I am now."

"Ah, yes, the possessed girl," and finally a hint of recognition passed over his face. "Lucius told me about you. It would have been more merciful had you died there. Well, go ahead then girl, show me what you can do. Show me what love can do."

Her wand moved in a flash. "Pleaga!" The shimmering cloud of destruction was only halfway when Voldemort cleaved it in two.

"Crucio," he said coolly.

She had one second to realise how fast he was. Then pain followed. A scream left her mouth as she thrashed and squirmed for what could have been an eternity. When Voldemort lifted the curse, she was panting.

"We will chalk that one up as a win for power over love," he declared coldly.

She pushed herself upright, ignoring the lingering pain. She'd had worse. It didn't matter that it stung, there was too much at stake here. Harry deserved better from her.

"Fulmen atenor!" Lightning lit up the sky and then was siphoned into Voldemort's wand.

"Sectumsempra." He caught it with a conjured lion. No doubt he thought that hilarious.

"Rei enemor!" The flame whip was doused by ice cold water.

"Sequi—" Before she could finish her choking curse, he hurled a bludgeoning curse her way.

The air was driven out of her lungs as she rolled away, coming to a halt next to a pond.

"I know you're still a schoolkid, but after duelling Potter, I thought the average level was higher. Guess I was wrong," Voldemort mocked, walking towards her on the path, the gravel crunching underneath his feet. "Do you have some more? Or are we done?" he sneered.

Her hair hung in her face as she pushed herself upright. She reached for her wand, but couldn't find it anywhere. She must have dropped it when the curse hit her. I'm sorry, Harry.

With a flutter, a phoenix landed next to her, gently bobbing its head against hers. "Oh hi Fawkes," she mumbled, wondering what had brought Dumbledore's phoenix here. No one had seen him since the Headmaster's death. "Are you looking for Harry? He's not here I'm afraid," she whispered. The phoenix trilled mournfully at her.

"Is that Dumbledore's songbird? How fitting," Voldemort laughed. He sounded just like Tom, really.

Fawkes hopped a bit closer and laid his head against her cheek. Ginny swallowed. "I'm sorry Fawkes, I tried. But I guess I'm just not Harry," she said, feeling the tears run down her cheek. She really had tried. She'd done everything she could. They'd even gotten all of his Horcruxes. But in the end, it hadn't been enough. Maybe nothing would have been enough, not against Voldemort.

"Get up girl, at least die standing," Voldemort mocked.

It was much more tempting to just stay down. Her whole body ached. And Merlin, she was so tired. Months of fighting and fear. It was almost calming to know it'd be over. If only she could leave knowing that someone else would finish this monster for her.

"I said, stand up. Imperio!" Voldemort hissed.

She could feel the spell seizing her, a warm, comforting feeling. It was like being wrapped in a warm blanket in the common room after a particularly trying Quidditch practice in the middle of winter. And it wasn't like much was asked of her. Just to stand up. Maybe she could go to the common room then. She'd loved it there. Maybe Harry would be there too.

Harry.

He'd fought off the Imperius Curse too, refusing to bow for Voldemort. Maybe she couldn't win the duel, but she could do that too. Even as the spell wormed its way inside her mind, she held on to the image of Harry, no matter the incessant demands for her to stand up.

"No!" she yelled, her fingers digging into the dirt.

"No?" Voldemort repeated, sounding disbelieving. "Fine then. Die in the mud," he snarled, sounding like a frustrated child who had his toy taken away.

At least she wouldn't die alone. Fawkes was here. Clutching something in between his talons. A wand.

Harry's wand?

She reached for it.

"Avada Kedavra."

She'd read about the duel in the graveyard. And just like that, she knew what to do.

"Expelliarmus!" she shouted.

A flash of green, a flash of white. A collision. Then, nothing.

#

The stone floor was cold beneath her, water dripping in the distance. With a groan, she lifted up her face and blinked as she saw the Chamber of Secrets around her. Not like she'd left it last time. There was no sign of a dead basilisk, or the destruction its slaying had brought. Instead, it looked like the first time she'd been down there. The memory was vague, Tom's manipulations and enchantments draped over her recollection like a wool blanket. But still, she recognised it. The high arched ceiling. The wet floor. That stupid statue of Salazar Slytherin. And, leaning against it, stood Tom.

"Tom?" she stammered, up in a second. He looked just like he always had. Handsome, young, about her age by now and evil.

"Ah, Ginny, I was wondering when you'd wake up," he said, walking towards her, his feet floating over the puddles.

"Where are we?" she asked.

He gave her a look that communicated how unimpressed he was with her. "I thought that much would be obvious."

"Yes, but… the fight. The Riddle estate. You," she stammered. Had it all been a dream? Had she died in the Chamber after all?

"Oh, they're all still there. You're still there too. But also here," he added with a smirk. "Don't try to make sense of it. Despite your impressive accomplishments this year—" she hated how warm his praise still felt after all these years, "you're not smart enough to understand it. This is ancient magic."

"But you are smart enough?" she countered.

He frowned and came to a halt, scrunching up his face. "Not entirely. As much as it pains me to admit it, Dumbledore might have been right. Love," he spat out the word. "Guess it's a secret of the universe after all. And a great power," he conceded with a sigh

Ginny blinked, wondering if this was truly Tom Riddle. The one she'd known would never have admitted that, not even in the face of overwhelming evidence.

"But," he continued, "that's not what we're here for. We're here to talk about a choice you need to make."

"Me? What choice?" she looked around the Chamber, wondering if she'd missed something there.

"Yes, you can choose to stay here—"

"Yeah, no. I hate this place," she interrupted.

Tom sighed. "Not here here. Here, as in, the afterlife."

"So I'm dead," she said. Deep down, she'd known that when Voldemort cast his Killing Curse. Part of her had been resigned to it since that day in the Department of Mysteries. At least it hadn't hurt. Just a blink, and she had been gone.

"You are, and you aren't. It's complicated," Tom said. "Which is why you have a choice. You can stay, or you can go back."

"To the fight. And you."

"Yes," Tom said, twirling his wand between his fingers.

"And will it make a difference? It's not like I could put up much of a fight before."

Tom shrugged. "That I can't promise. Maybe you'll be back here in a few minutes again. But I can tell you that it will definitely terrify me out there if you get back up again," he chuckled. "And I'll spend the rest of my life looking for that Horcrux I think you made that allowed you to survive the Killing Curse."

"And instead, love made me survive?" It sounded silly when she put it like that.

Tom grimaced. "If you choose to go back there, yes. Then love will have done exactly that."

"And here… my brothers are here?"

"Most of them, yes."

"And my friends."

"Most of them, yes," Tom repeated. "It's been getting crowded up here. Wars will do that."

"And Harry."

"Yes," Tom said, giving her a serious look.

It sounded tempting. No more fights or fear. No more pain. She looked at her reflection in a puddle, hoping to find answers there. To her surprise, her scars were gone. That was another point in favour of staying. Here she could be… Pretty. Desirable. Unblemished. Whole. And with Harry.

But of course, that meant leaving the rest of her family behind. Her parents would have to bury another child. Her brothers would lose another sibling. Astoria would lose a best friend, again. And Voldemort would have free reign.

Besides, Harry would have gone back, she was sure of it.

"Alright, let's go kill a dark lord," she said.

"I knew you'd say that. I always hated Gryffindors." His smile took the sting out of the words. "Alright, go get them."

"One more question, before I leave though."

"Ask away."

"Were you ever real? After my first year?"

"Perhaps. Perhaps not." Tom and her surroundings began to blur, his voice slowly sounding more and more distant.

"It's all in my head isn't it?" she asked the white fog that began to set in.

"Of course it is happening inside your head, Ginny, but why on earth should that mean that it's not real?"

#

She came to with a gasp, lying in the same grassy patch she'd found herself in before. In her hand was still Harry's wand. Voldemort was standing a few feet away, reeling. It made her wonder if he'd been taken somewhere too. If so, she wondered who he'd been speaking with. It had left him looking even paler than usual.

She wasn't going to give him time to recover. With a cry that startled Fawkes and sent him flying away in the night sky, she jumped up. "Pleaga!"

For a second, it looked like Voldemort was just going to let it hit him. When the shimmering wave was mere inches away from his face, he blinked and finally seemed to realise what was happening. He was deadly quick as always, parrying the curse, but not before it brushed past his face. A pained howl escaped him, even as the curse dissipated.

When he looked up, the right side of his face was a bloody ruin and his red eyes promised murder. "Why can't anyone just die?" he roared, hurling a large patch of ground at her.

Ginny dove out of the way, just before it crushed the spot where she'd been standing. As she moved, she hurled a series of curses at him that Voldemort batted aside. She came to a halt, panting, the two of them facing off against each other.

"Your death will be slow," he promised.

"Yeah yeah, I know those threats by now," she mocked him. Maybe she'd die slowly, but Merlin, at least she'd made him bleed.

"Mind if we step in?" a voice asked from higher up. Ginny and Voldemort looked at the manor and saw Bill, Fleur, a thoroughly roughed up Percy, a barely conscious Scrimgeour and a pale Astoria gazing down at them.

"Oh, the whole family is here," Voldemort mocked as they floated down and joined the battle.

"And I'm still here too," Snape spat out, limping towards them.

Acting as one, they hurled a flurry of hexes and curses at Voldemort. His wand and arm became a blur as he parried and shielded, ducked and countered. Slowly, he began to float above the ground again, a spherical shield shimmering all around him and blocking anything they lobbed at him, even the foulest of Snape's curses.

Yet try as he might, his own retorts did not strike home. Fleur danced out of the way of a Killing Curse. Bill undid a roaring cloud of daggers. Snape dispelled a pulsating shadow. Percy ducked underneath a sword of flame. Scrimgeour—wielding a wand in his offhand—erected a wall of ice to catch a murder of ravens. Astoria blasted a snake apart. And Ginny somehow knew exactly what spells he'd use even before he cast them, always there to dodge or counter them.

The frustration on Voldemort's face was a delight to witness. His movements became more and more frantic, and she could see his eyes dart towards the manor, searching for his Death Eaters. But if any still remained, the fight with the rest of the Order had them all tied up.

"Fine. I will kill all of you at once then," Voldemort roared, weaving his wand in the air. "Fiendfyre!"

Shapes of fire burst up from all over the estate, roaring and turning the dark night red. It was an inferno unlike any she had ever seen. The heat was scalding, the air so hot it hurt to breathe. But somehow, the spirits in the fire felt familiar. Like they recognised her as their master as much as they recognised Voldemort. Or perhaps it was the piece of Tom in her. She could work with that.

With a deep breath, she brought up her wand and willed the fire to obey. The pillars of flame rose higher, then stopped their ascent, like a beast that had reached the end of its leash. And Voldemort could only watch in abject horror as she forced it further down, the earth swallowing the fire.

"Who are you?" he breathed, looking at her as if seeing her for the first time.

"A friend of Harry's." And that was all she'd ever be, because of him. He'd taken what mattered from her. And now she'd take from him what he cared for: his pathetic little life. "Avada Kedavra!"

It wasn't just her voice that called out the Killing Curse. All those around her voiced it, even Astoria. Seven green spells sped his way. Voldemort flicked his wand and rocks rose from the earth, catching one, two, three, four, five. Six. But the seventh piece was just a second too slow. It was impossible to tell which one of theirs made it through. But one did.

He swayed in front of them, his wand slipping from his grip and dropping to the ground. Then he collapsed. Voldemort—Tom Riddle—was dead.

This was for you, Harry.

Then she fainted.

A/N: And with that, mysteries have been revealed. That just leaves a very short epilogue.