Welcome to My Truth

First of all must go, your scent upon my pillow
And then I'll say goodbye to your whispers in my dreams.
And then our lips will part, in my mind and in my heart,
Cos your kiss went deeper than my skin.

Piece by piece is how I'll let go of you
Kiss by kiss will leave my mind one at a time
One at a time

First of all must fly, my dreams of you and I,
There's no point of holding on to those
And then our ties will break, for your and my own sake,
Just remember,
This is what you chose

Piece by piece is how I'll let go of you
Kiss by kiss will leave my mind one at a time
One at a time

I'll shed like skin, our memories of lazy days,
And fade away the shadow of your face

Piece by piece is how I'll let go of you
Kiss by kiss will leave my mind one at a time
One at a time

Disclaimer: Harry Potter ™ belongs to JKR and WB. Song Lyrics (Piece by Piece) ©Katie Melua


2: Letting Go

The next day was a Wednesday. Ginny decided she was going to like Wednesdays from now on. She had spent all of the previous night thinking about everything – about the prophecy, about Harry, about Riddle. It all seemed so impossible. But here she was, trying to save the world from a mad man who, well, hadn’t gone mad yet. But there remained the big question: could Ginny stop him from turning into the psychopath he would be remembered for, or would she merely encourage him?

As on the previous day the six Slytherin girls arrived together, making a grand entrance that, as before, turned heads. But this time something caught Ginny’s eye. Although today she did not falter before going to her new house table, a too familiar unruly mop of dark black hair at the Gryffindor table distracted her for a moment. But as the person in question turned, revealing dark brown eyes set in a decidedly scar-free face, Ginny’s heartbeat decelerated. It must be Harry’s paternal Grandfather or something.

For one split second Ginny had allowed herself to believe that Snape had somehow managed to save Harry as well, but then the memories of those raucous cheers infiltrated Ginny’s mind and she found herself swept away on a wave of sorrow.

‘Ginny? Ginny, are you all right?’ a voice asked from beside her, a hand tugging at her sleeve.

Ginny shrugged and tried to ignore the cheers of ‘he’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead,’ that played again and again like a stuck record inside her head. She sat slowly, ignoring the concerned glances of her classmates and ate her breakfast, the food tasteless on her tongue as she wished she could forget. It was only when Riddle sank into the bench opposite her that Ginny snapped back to reality.

‘What’s wrong with Craigson?’ Riddle drawled at Katrina.

‘I–’ Ginny started and stopped again. ‘Do you know what’s the worst thing in the world, Riddle?’ she asked him finally.

‘Dying?’

Ginny snorted in response. Death would have been sweet oblivion compared to the torture and slow starvation she and Harry had had to put up with for so long. ‘Once you’re dead, you’re dead. No, the worst thing in the world is watching someone else die before your eyes and knowing that you can do absolutely nothing to stop it.’

‘Why should you care if someone else dies?’

Ginny gazed sharply into his grey-blue eyes and drew a long, shaky breath. ‘Have you ever listened to the sounds of someone being tortured? Have you ever listened as people cheer on that screaming? Have you ever watched someone slowly loose a little piece of himself day by day? Have you ever been slowly starved to the brink of death, only to be given just enough food to keep you alive?’ Ginny stopped and closed her eyes to block out the looks of horror, not from Riddle, but from the others. Riddle couldn’t care less.

‘I’ve seen some things that should never have happened. I heard my parents die. I watched my best friends being murdered before my eyes. And that isn’t even the worst of it.’ Ginny’s eyes opened and looked directly into his. Riddle found himself inexplicably drawn into those hypnotising pools of dark chocolate, beckoning him to fall a little deeper until there was no escape.

Then Ginny blinked and she gazed about the table. The looks of worry and apprehension on the faces of the people looking at her touched her heart. Despite all of Slytherin’s failings it was, really, very similar to the Gryffindor house. Sure, there was more individualism, but there was still a strong sense of collective safety. ‘I’m sorry,’ Ginny muttered, though they all heard it. ‘I shouldn’t have said anything.’ The next second Ginny was up and out of the Great Hall, leaving a small bubble of quiet behind her.

‘Well that has put a damper on the day,’ Theodore said, pushing his plate away.

‘Yeah, Tom, couldn’t have kept your questions until later?’ Katrina said, also pushing her plate away.

Eileen shook her head and stared after Ginny. ‘Poor girl. I can’t even imagine what it would be like to loose my parents.’

Riddle glared at each of them in turn, until they all shut up again and started nibbling at the edges of bits of toast. He didn’t need them to sympathise for Craigson. The girl didn’t need their sympathy, she needed to be put in her place – no one got to back chat Tom Riddle and get away with it.

‘Tom, no,’ Eileen said, recognising the warning signs. Everyone in Riddle’s year had experienced one of his specialised ‘accidents’ when they did something to displease him and, despite Riddle’s immaculate Slytherin mask, there were still little ways of being able to tell what he was thinking. When he was planning revenge his right foot would tap lightly on the floor and he would lean forward in his chair, rather than sitting straight or slouching back like he usually was.

‘Why not, Prince? What has she done to get your allegiance?’

‘Allegiance, Tom? Why would that girl need my allegiance? Look at her! She’s a time bomb of emotions that, when it goes off, is going to leave scars on everyone, if she doesn’t kill someone.’

‘She needs a lesson–’

‘She doesn’t know, Tom!’ Eileen tried to persuade him. ‘She’s just lost her entire family and probably all of her friends. She’s moved half way across a continent and is looking for a bit of peace, let her have it.’

‘She can have her peace,’ Tom promised, ‘but only after she accepts my rules.’ And with that he swept out of the Hall after Ginny.

It didn’t take him much longer than ten minutes to find Ginny, but that was only down to luck. As Riddle passed an empty classroom he heard her voice coming from inside.

‘No, I’m fine.’

‘Are you sure?’ The second voice was masculine and painfully familiar. It took Riddle a moment to realise that it was the Head Boy, Harry Potter’s voice. ‘Because when I looked at you, you turned as white as a sheet.’

‘I just – you look a lot like someone I used to know.’

‘Used to know?’

‘He’s dead now.’

Unable to listen to this trollop for a moment longer Riddle blasted the door open, cold smirk already in place. He was surprised to find the two of them much closer than he had presumed. Instinctively the Slytherins and Gryffindors seemed to keep as far away from each other as possible, but here these two were, leaning side-by-side against the same desk. Ginny was looking very pale and there was a single, silver tear track staining her cheek, but otherwise looked composed.

Potter, on the other hand, looked as though he had been hit by a proverbial train. His naturally tan skin was pale and his face was screwed up with several contrasting emotions – surprise, grief and that overwhelmingly Gryffindor emotion, pity. Upon Riddle’s entrance the seventh year looked up, trying and failing to mask his emotions. Ginny just continued to stare at her shoes.
‘Hey, Riddle,’ she said dispassionately, not needing to look at him to know who it was. ‘Look, Potter, what time do you finish lessons today?’

‘4.’

‘I’ll meet you in the library at 4.30 then, is that alright?’

‘Yeah, sure.’ The boy looked up at Riddle and, upon seeing his furious gaze, offered to stay, ‘are you going to be alright, here?’ with him? He continued silently, though all three of them heard it.

Ginny nodded. ‘I’ll be fine. See you later.’

The Head Boy moved across the room, his gaze moving from Riddle to Ginny with concern – surely it wasn’t safe to leave them together? But, no, they were both Slytherins, they wouldn’t attack each other… would they? He left before he could change his mind.

‘A Slytherin befriending a Gryffindor? What has the world come to?’ Riddle hissed through his teeth, handsome face distorted in white hot fury.

‘What do you want Riddle?’ Ginny asked tiredly.

Riddle laughed humourlessly. ‘Oh, so now it’s about what I want?’

Ginny finally looked at him, her eyes still swirling with that emotion he couldn’t put a name to. ‘In your self-evolved little world, when isn’t it about you?’ she demanded of him, her voice sugar-sweet.

‘You speak out of line, mudblood.’

At that Ginny laughed out loud, and though it sounded true there was a hysterical edge to it. ‘Mudblood? That’s low, Riddle, considering your own blood line.’ Like someone had flicked a switch Ginny turned completely serious. ‘Oh, yes, I know who your father was, lovely muggle guy. Bit of a sadist, of course, but it was hardly his fault your mum was infatuated with him.’ Ginny let out a long, low sigh, knowing that she was digging herself deeper and deeper into Tom Riddle’s pile of shit that he called family life. ‘Poor little Merope Gaunt. From such a long line of pure blooded wizards and witches, she had to fall in love with the one guy who wouldn’t have her. And they all thought that Morfin was the black sheep of the family.’ Ginny shook her head, smiling mock-sadly at the persona of fury standing before her.

‘You know that I haven’t had a muggle relation for decades? Oh, yes, I’m no muggle born. There hasn’t been a marriage to muggles in my family for decades. Not that I’m that fussed. Some of the smartest, most powerful wizards and witches are ‘mudbloods’,’ Ginny spat the last word at him and then waited for the volcano to erupt.

‘How dare you!’ he yelled, advancing on her until his nose tip almost brushed hers. ‘How fucking dare you! You have no idea what you’re talking about!’

‘Don’t I?’ Ginny questioned him quietly. ‘If I’m wrong then why are you yelling at me? If I’m wrong, then why are there no other Riddle children running around waving wands?’

‘You have no idea the shit I’ve been through because of that bastard of a father of mine! You’ve no idea the humiliation I feel every time someone looks at me! Tom Riddle,’ he sneered. ‘You have no idea the horrors of bearing the disgusting name of a disgusting man who doesn’t even deserve the title of father.’

‘So change it,’ Ginny said with a shrug.

‘What?’ he asked, momentarily off-balanced.

‘Change your name,’ Ginny repeated, ignoring the urge to say it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

‘That’s beside the point!’

‘Is it?’ Ginny questioned him, raising an eyebrow daring him to argue with her. ‘Your shame is self-inflicted, Riddle. Look at the people who surround you every day, how long is it since one of them teased you about your name? How long is it since anyone dared to say anything against you at all?’

‘Five minutes ago, you,’ Riddle replied stiffly.

‘That was because you called me a mudblood,’ Ginny said matter-of-factly. ‘You may have the rest of the school quivering in their boots, but never me.’

‘Is that a bet?’

‘Try me, Riddle. I can hate you, love you, loath you, but never will I fear you. There is only one person I fear and he is far, far away from here.’ Although, Ginny’s thoughts continued, he is, ironically, also standing in this room. Huh. Funny, that.

‘What if I should kill you?’ he hissed at her.

Ginny gave a snort of amusement. ‘Then I’d be dead, wouldn’t I?’

Riddle frowned, but said nothing more.

‘Look, if you’ll excuse me, I have a lesson,’ Ginny said, putting two hands on his chest and pushing him away from her. Riddle actually stumbled back a few steps, shocked by her movement and didn’t have time to protest before she was out of the door and away along the corridor, leaving him to try and collect together his thoughts that lay scattered every which way.

Damn, but that girl got on his nerves. If she knew what was good for her she’d do as he said, when he told her to. But, then, maybe that’s what made her so intriguing – the fact that she would not bow down to him. Although the other sixth years seemed to have developed s kind of wary immunity to him, Ginny had a fire in her eyes that would be a shame to dampen. Put dampen, if not extinguish it, he must. She could not be allowed to continue to walk around the school like he didn’t own it.


--vVvVvVv--


Second lesson was double potions so Ginny and Riddle found themselves having to face each other. Ginny supposed that she could move to a different place, but last lesson she had taken the only free space and she didn’t feel like subjecting some other poor soul to Riddle’s vindictive nature. Even if it meant she had to put up with it for two hours. Not that she would ever tell Riddle that she was secretly a self-sacrificing Gryffindor.

‘Craigson,’ Riddle spat at her when she joined the rest of the students waiting outside.

‘Riddle,’ Ginny replied, relishing the word as he scowled at her.

‘If you thought it was bad last lesson, just wait until I get my hands on the potion this lesson,’ Riddle hissed in her ear as she swept past him into the room as Slughorn arrived.

‘Class!’ Slughorn started, once everyone had settled down into their seats. ‘I have marked your potions and will give them back along with your marks, if you’d like to collect them in silence.’

One by one the students received their potions, Eileen giving Ginny a sympathetic half shrug as she passed, not daring any more due to the thunderous look on Riddle’s face.

‘Riddle, Tom,’ Slughorn called and Riddle went up to collect his mark. On a purely evil and malicious whim Ginny slipped her wand out and pointed it at Riddle’s stool, casting the spell silently. She pushed her wand back up her sleeve then turned to look over her shoulder to see two Gryffindors staring at her open mouthed. She copied them and pushed her chin back in place. They took the hint and shut their mouths, grinning wildly. Ginny threw a wink at them before turning back round and smiling pleasantly to Riddle, who was scowling at the exchange.

‘What did you tell them?’ he spat at her under his breath.

‘Nothing,’ Ginny replied truthfully and waited with bated breath for Riddle to sit down.

She was not to be disappointed. Riddle tried to sit down on the chair and it collapsed beneath him. He gave a yell as he fell, so the entire class got a prize sight of Tom Riddle, Hogwart’s Bully, landing on his arse.

‘You!’ he shouted to Ginny, hauling himself off the floor. ‘You cast the damn spell and you two,’ he continued, whirling round to face the two Gryffindors who sat behind them.

They went from laughing to terrified in under a second. ‘You knew and didn’t say anything!’ he shouted, his own wand suddenly raised, despite Slughorn’s presence in the classroom.

Ginny was watching him yell in amusement, but decided to step in before anyone got hurt. ‘Of course they didn’t tell you,’ she said.

Riddle didn’t say anything, merely turned his fiery gaze on her.

She returned his gaze with cool detachment, spinning her wand in her fingers. ‘If I’d hexed their chairs, would you have told them? I think not. Although they probably wouldn’t feel tempted to murder you because of it.’

‘So you admit you did it?’ Riddle said with barely masked incredulity.

Ginny smirked at him. ‘Yes.’ She turned to the rest of the class, ‘and I’m damn proud of it.’ She got a few cheers and someone wolf whistled, though the noise died down when Riddle shot the class a Medusa glare. ‘When was the last time someone pranked you, Tom? When was the last time someone dared to try your wrath?’ Ginny said in a pleasantly off-hand voice coated in poison.

‘That is enough!’ Slughorn roared, finally stepping in. ‘Ten points from Slytherin each and both of you will serve detention here at 8pm tonight.’

‘Yes, Professor,’ Ginny said chirpily as though she had been rewarded rather than punished. Riddle simply fixed his chair and sat down on it, arms crossed and glared at the desk.

‘Working in pairs you have two hours to create Veritaserum. The instructions are on the board,’ Slughorn announced.

Riddle didn’t move as Ginny sprang up and collected the things they needed. Veritaserum was another thing she and Harry had worked on and although they hadn’t spent nearly as long on it Ginny was confident that she’d be able to make it. She whistled as she worked, pointless, silly songs that had no real meaning and no real melody.

‘You sound like a loon,’ Riddle injected sullenly, twenty minutes into the lesson. He still had not moved, not to help, or to sabotage.

‘You sound like a loon, Gin!’ Harry laughed, giving her a friendly elbow in the ribs and chucking in the sliced birch bark, causing the potion to give off a large, yellow belch of gas. He coughed and choked on the gas, trying to wave it away. ‘God that stuff stinks,’ he squeaked, his voice sounding like he’d swallowed a balloonful of helium.
Ginny laughed aloud. ‘Now who sounds like a loon?’ she teased, ducking as he tried to whack her lightly upside the head.

‘It wasn’t meant to end,’ Ginny murmured under her breath, her grin dissolving along with the memory that had cut through her mind clear as glass.

Riddle’s head snapped up and he gazed intently at Ginny, whose emotionless mask had slipped back into place with ease. But, even as she tried to hide behind the obnoxious yellow gas the potion was now giving off, it did not escape his notice that a single, silver tear trickled down her face. Ginny managed to swipe it away in a movement to tuck her hair behind her ears, but it had been there. Riddle wondered what it was he’d said.

‘What wasn’t meant to end?’ Riddle questioned.

Ginny looked up dully, her eyes flat and dispassionate. ‘Happiness,’ she said in a monotone, before turning back to her work.

It took him a moment to realise that the anger he held for Ginny had fizzled out to a minor ache in the back of his skull and that, on some indeterminable level, Riddle was scared of Ginny. When she was happy and teasing and wickedly childish he could hate her. When she was smirking and irritating and sarcastically stoic he could admire her.

When she was completely emotionless, no need for a mask for there was no emotion – nothing – to hide, Riddle found that – loathe as he was to admit it, even to himself – he feared her. When someone could reach that level of transcendence from everything there was nothing they could not do. Nothing they could not withstand.

Ginny moved silently, now, the cheerful whistling lost. Her mind was a thunderous whirlwind of memories of a time that seemed so, so long ago. In reality it was only a couple of months, but the happiness she had found there was gone. Ginny missed them. She missed Hermione’s knowledge and Ron’s stubbornness. She missed the twins’ pranks and her family’s cheerful, happy-go-lucky ways. She missed her bustling mum and her muggle-admiring dad. She missed Luna and Neville and even Dean.

But most of all Ginny missed the famous Harry Potter – boy-who-lived, Gryffindor Golden Boy, leader of the Golden trio – but, to her, always and just Harry. Just Harry, who had broken things off because he loved her too much. Just Harry, whose kisses had sent Ginny into a whole other world. Just Harry, her personal knight in shining armour, even when they had just come of the Quidditch pitch covered in mud and soaked to the skin. Just Harry, who had touched her and caressed her and loved her more than she had ever deserved. Just Harry. Her Harry.

At some point during the lesson Riddle started helping. Ginny wasn’t really paying attention, but she felt glad for it. For a moment it didn’t matter who Riddle was to become, it was simply nice to have someone who wouldn’t ask her questions or try to cheer her up. Ginny needed to wallow for a bit.

Slughorn was very different from Snape and so the couples working around them could chat quietly during the exercise without the fear of being punished. However, there was a bubble of silence that was not caused by a charm that hung around Riddle and Ginny’s desk. She didn’t want words. He couldn’t find them. There was still a stifling tension between them and Ginny had to slap Riddle’s wrists more than once to stop him from adding the wrong ingredients, not from her potion – for it was his work as well and he wouldn’t jeopardise it – but from the potions of the couples around them.

By the time the end of the lesson rolled around all the potions were perfect, except for those corrupted by their own makers and Ginny was starting to rouse herself from the cavity within herself that she had withdrawn to. Looking at the potions Ginny allowed herself a smug little smirk as she realised that she had stopped Riddle doing his usual dirty trick. Though she couldn’t be sure, Ginny could have sworn that Riddle let out a sigh of relief – though for what reason she could not fathom.

‘I’m impressed, Riddle,’ Ginny said as they packed up their things, breaking the self-imposed silence.

‘Oh?’ was his only response.

‘Yeah, you didn’t muck up anyone’s potion.’

This time Riddle didn’t even reply, merely giving a tiny, dignified yet disgusted sniff that said more than any words could have done. Ginny smirked at him and they left the dungeons together, dumping their bags in the common room before walking up to the Great Hall for lunch.

‘You know, you’re a very odd person, Tom Riddle,’ Ginny remarked quietly as they slipped out from behind the gargoyle that guarded the Slytherin common room.

‘How do you mean?’ he enquired, his voice carefully guarded.

‘You have a temper that could probably destroy the world–’ that would destroy the world, if Ginny didn’t change anything ‘–yet, really, you’re quite an empathetic person.’

‘Not just pathetic, in your opinion?’ he asked, his voice suddenly lighter as he realised what she was trying to say.

‘Tom Riddle, did you just crack a joke?’ Ginny teased him in mock-horror.

‘I believe I did,’ he replied in a deadpan tone. ‘But you were saying…?’

‘Yeah, right. Well, I guess I want to say thank you, back there.’

‘For what?’ Riddle asked in genuine ignorance.

‘For just accepting,’ she whispered, her voice suddenly having trouble escaping her lungs. ‘I mean, I know that you probably think that I should get over it and move on and stop being such a cry baby, but it’s good to be able to think things over without constantly being told to cheer up or being asked what’s wrong.’ Ginny’s voice suddenly became sour. ‘Everything will be better tomorrow. At least you’re still alive. What the fuck is with the long face?’ Ginny shuddered, tone now strained and full of unspoken pain. ‘If they only knew… I’d gladly swap my memory for theirs. So, thank you for not asking. Thank you for not saying that everything’s going to be OK, because, you know what? I really don’t think it will be.’

What was she doing? What was she thinking? She was telling Tom Riddle, Lord Voldemort in the making, that she thought her life was fucked up and that it was all going to go wrong. What was it about Riddle that made her open up to him six years ago – that still made her open up to him?

‘Sorry,’ Ginny muttered, bowing her head.

Riddle stopped and placed a hand on Ginny’s shoulder, stopping her and turning her towards him in the same movement. She looked up at him with sorrowful, pleading, huge chestnut brown eyes that begged him not to tease her, not to scorn her. If only she knew that he couldn’t tease her – not this girl of fire who could show her weaknesses with as much pride as she could show her strengths.

‘Don’t be,’ he finally murmured. ‘Because it won’t all be better tomorrow. Maybe in a year or so, but not tomorrow. And it’s alright to be afraid of that.’

Ginny felt his touch run through her like electricity, even though there were layers of cloth between his hand and her shoulder. Looking into his blue eyes that suddenly seemed to be full of unspoken compassion Ginny couldn’t help but feel confused. Was this the same Riddle who teased others mercilessly? Was he seriously telling her it was OK to be scared? Because she was. Ginny was absolutely terrified of getting it wrong and mucking up. She was all too aware that the fate of the world had been laid across her shoulders and no one truly knew. Yet he, he, Riddle, was offering comfort.

His hand squeezed her shoulder and his thumb brushed lightly against the bare skin of her neck, just above her shirt collar, and the look between them intensified. Then his hand dropped and both of them replaced their masks of stoic detachment as they turned as one and continued through the hallways, unaware that their stride matched perfectly and their movements echoed each other.

As they strode into the Great Hall it seemed as though the entire Slytherin table turned to face them. Riddle and Ginny exchanged a look and a smirk before walking, one down each side of the table and sat opposite each other.

‘Wow,’ Matisse and Yuna breathed out at the same moment.

The other sixth years nodded in agreement as Theodore took to poking Ginny.

Poke.

Ginny helped herself to a thin slice of the cold meat, ignoring her classmates’ blatant stares and poring out a glass of fresh lemonade.

Poke.

‘Lemonade?’ she asked Riddle politely.

‘Please.’ He too was helping himself to lunch, oblivious to the silent questions literally pouring from the other Slytherins’ eyes.

Poke.

Ginny set down the lemonade jug and buttered two slices of the granary bread, covering them with mayonnaise, some of the leaves of rocket and cabbage and the slice of meat before pressing them together. She held it up to her mouth to take a huge bite when…

Poke.

Finally she lost her temper. Dropping her sandwich back on the plate Ginny grabbed Theodore’s finger and bent it in a direction it really did not want to go. ‘What,’ she hissed in a dangerously low voice, ‘is your problem? Here I am, trying to have my lunch like a normal person, when you keep fucking poking me!’

‘But you’re alive,’ Theodore said plaintively as Riddle sniggered into his food.

Ginny blinked. ‘Alive? Of course I’m alive! It’s not like giant killer snakes have invaded the school and eaten me or something.’

The reference to Slytherin’s basilisk was lost on all of the students except for Riddle, whose smirk vanished immediately, though Ginny could almost see him trying to convince himself that it was merely coincidence.

‘Will you please let go of my finger?’ Theodore whimpered, his voice higher-pitched than usual and his eyes starting to look decidedly glassy.

‘Oh right, yeah,’ Ginny said unapologetically, letting him go. ‘Um, seriously though, why would I be dead?’

Eileen smirked. ‘You only pissed off his royal highness, Tom Marvolo Riddle, by back chatting him this morning. And, at a guess, hexing him so that he fell on his arse probably didn’t help matters.’

Ginny’s eyes widened and her mouth formed a small, perfect circle, before she sniggered softly. ‘His royal highness, oh I like that.’

The rest of the table, however, seemed caught up in the fact that Ginny had hexed Tom rather than the other way around. The looks of astonishment warmed the cockles of Ginny’s prankster heart as well as sending her a warning, high and clear that she had come very, very close to losing everything that morning. But, really, she knew that already.

‘You–’ Katrina started and stopped, choking on uncertain laughter. ‘–you hexed Tom?’

‘No, I didn’t hex him,’ Ginny dismissed with a wave of her hand, before a mischievous glint stole into her eye, hidden by her bland expression. ‘I hexed his chair so it broke when he tried to sit on it.’

This didn’t seem to improve matters. It seemed that the entire Slytherin table, and some of the Ravenclaw table who had overheard were trying to picture Tom Riddle being made a fool of. Those who had been there quickly began retelling the incident and it spread faster than lightning until the entire hall was talking of Riddle’s humiliation.

‘Craigson…’ Riddle hissed across at her.

‘Oops, I’m sorry. It seems the Hogwart’s gossip mill is as potent as ever. Give it until the end of lunch and even the teachers and ghosts will be talking about it,’ Ginny informed him cheerily, completely unrepentant.

‘I think you and I–’ he started, but she cut across him.

‘Need to have a little talk?’ Ginny filled in. ‘Alright,’ she said with an easy shrug.

Eileen watched them talk with barely concealed amazement. ‘Ginny, please tell me you did not just agree to have a ‘conversation’ with Tom.’

Ginny just looked confused.

‘One day,’ Eileen said with a rueful smile and shake of her head, ‘you are going to push him too far. Then you probably won’t ever wake up again.’

Ginny smiled a small, sad smile. ‘I have so many people on the other side, Eileen, that I’d probably be just as happy.’

Riddle glared at Ginny at her presumption that he was going to kill her – no, at Eileen’s presumption he would one day loose too much of his temper to stop himself from killing her and at Ginny’s easy acceptance of that fact. Well hidden beneath various furious shades of anger and self-righteousness there was something much like anxiousness in Riddle’s mind. He could only tell it was there if he didn’t search for it, but its contrast to his other emotions was giving him a headache. He continued to gaze angrily at Ginny. It was her fault. Stupid, meddling, amazingly intelligent, irritating, spontaneous little Ginny.

The girl in question half turned towards him and, if he didn’t know any better, he could have sworn that she caught the tail end of his thoughts, winking at him cheekily and starting to eat her abandoned sandwich.

‘You’re acting way too Gryffindor for my liking,’ Riddle said snidely, also turning back to his food.

‘Really?’ Ginny asked, tilting her head slightly in unspoken curiosity.

‘Oh, you don’t know about the house sorting system, do you?’ Georgia butted in before anyone else could say anything.

‘You might belong in Gryffindor,
Where dwell the brave in heart,
Their daring, nerve and chivalry
Set Gryffindors apart.
‘Or perhaps in Slytherin
You’ll make your real friends,
Those cunning folk use any means
To achieve their ends.
‘You might belong in Hufflepuff,
Where they are just and loyal,
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true
And unafraid to toil.
‘Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
If you’ve a ready mind,
Those of wit and learning
Will always find their kind,’ Georgia recited, the Gryffindor verse receiving boos and hisses from the surrounding students and the Slytherin one being cheered on.

Ginny listened to the familiar words with a slight smile twisting her lips. If only her classmates knew. A lion among the snakes. Or, perhaps, all along, a snake among the lions? Ginny couldn’t tell, only that she was fitting into the Slytherin house just as nicely as she would in the Gryffindor house in fifty years’ time. ‘Isn’t it best, then,’ Ginny started hesitantly, ‘to have all of those talents? Think about it. Brave, daring, chivalrous, cunning, loyal, unafraid of hard work, wit, learning… don’t the best few students in each house have all those qualities?’ Ginny saw the stunned looks she got in response and gave them an apologetic, one shouldered shrug. Maybe it was too much to change Voldemort, without revolutionising the way the Hogwarts students thought of each of the houses as well.

‘Look, new girl,’ one of the seventh years said across several people. ‘I know you’ve only been here a day and a half, but you should know by now that Slytherins aren’t ‘loyal’ or ‘chivalrous’,’ he spat the words off his tongue like they hurt to say them.

‘Sure you are,’ Ginny said easily. ‘Slytherins and Ravenclaws are the best mannered students in the school. You put a lot of credit into behaviour. It’s all about having pureblood morals. And as for loyalty… if your name or bloodline was insulted, or another pureblood’s name was insulted by a muggle born… Look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn’t knock that person’s lights out.’

This received a few nervous giggles, but it seemed like everyone’s eyes had turned to Riddle, like it was he who had to answer. In a way, Ginny supposed he did. He was the ultimate Slytherin. No one else would dare to say anything until the only living descendant of Salazar Slytherin himself admitted to having a little bit of Gryffindor in him.

‘Are you suggesting there shouldn’t be a housing system?’ Riddle asked tartly, gazing at her over his steepled fingers, very reminiscent of Dumbledore.

‘Hell, no,’ Ginny snorted, then took a huge bite of her sandwich.

‘Well what then?’

Ginny swallowed and grinned. Her dark eyes seemed to flash almost amber in the light – a sure sign of something wicked this way coming. ‘Healthy competition is good. This kind of segregation isn’t,’ was all she said, not revealing the plan that lay hidden behind her eyes.

Riddle regarded her for a while, but all Ginny did was carry on eating. When neither of them said anything else the rest of the Slytherins turned away and started it chatting among themselves. Ginny was aware of Riddle’s gaze, and he knew that, but she ignored him, only flashing him crooked half grins every once in a while.


--vVvVvVv--


After lunch Ginny had some free time that she took in the Slytherin common room, under the pretence of doing homework, but really chatting to Matisse. He was a lot like his sister and Ginny still couldn’t get over the English accent coming from a mouth that, she thought, should be speaking in a thick Jamaican intonations. But then fifth period rolled around and Ginny bid him goodbye to go to one of her specialised lessons with Dumbledore himself.

‘Hey,’ Ginny greeted cheerfully as she walked in to the room that was empty except for the bespectacled man.

‘Hello, Miss Craigson. You seem to be happier,’ Dumbledore remarked.

‘Yes, Professor. It’s good to be back at Hogwarts, even if it’s the wrong house.’

Dumbledore didn’t even have to ask Ginny anything, just looked at her with curious blue eyes.

‘Oh, didn’t I say? I was – will be – in Gryffindor.’

And there was the trademark twinkle of his eyes. ‘A lion in the snake pit,’ he said, echoing her earlier thoughts.

‘Or a snake in the lions’ den,’ Ginny added. ‘But I’m getting along just fine. I never understood the house prejudices much, but the fact that I’m settling in so well, must be some kind of–’

‘But first, my dear, you must take into account that what you plan to do is entirely Slytherin,’ Dumbledore interrupted.

Ginny nodded, cheery mood blackening slightly. ‘And it’s all for the greater good.’

The Transfiguration teacher looked at Ginny for a while, as though not truly seeing her before. But then his twinkle stole back and a smile nudged its way back on to his face. ‘The greater good. Well, let’s see how good you actually are.’

Dumbledore took off his outer robe and draped it over a nearby chair as Ginny did the same. With a flick of his wand the tables and chairs on his side of the room moved to the sides and stacked neatly. Ginny watched carefully and then repeated it for the remaining furniture. Then he pointed his wand at her, they each bowed dutifully, and the duel began.

Ginny was no match for Dumbledore, she knew that from the off, but it didn’t stop her trying her hardest. For whilst he was magically adept and very powerful she was lithe and flexible, taking to ducking spells rather than casting protection shields. Ginny was also more versatile, for while she did not recognise some of the spells the future headmaster used she learnt from them, copying them and adapting them for her own means. Ginny’s final downfall was when Dumbledore animated one of the table behind her and it locked her in an iron strong grip.

As soon as Ginny was on her feet again Dumbledore restarted the duel, this time slower and with most of the spells cast out loud, rather than silently. Ginny took this as a hint to demonstrate a larger variety of the spells she knew, rather than just the obvious ones that first came to mind. Dumbledore watched and reacted and allowed Ginny to get back in touch with the uncontrollable part of herself that rejoiced in duelling and that had been locked up in a cell as much as she had.

It was obvious from the way she moved and the way her emotions rolled across her face that whilst it brought back bad memories Ginny revelled in being able to fight again. For to her it was more than fighting – it was a form of meditation that took up every inch of her brain. Duelling with someone, particularly someone as experienced and brilliant as Dumbledore himself, meant that Ginny didn’t have time to dwell on the things of the past.

It was good to dwell, but it was also good to forget.

Ginny lost, again, but this time she managed to get in a couple of shots herself. Dumbledore’s shoulder was slightly singed and he had a small cut on his left cheek, but that was only bleeding a little. Ginny had come out of it bruised and battered all over, but feeling delightfully alive. This time Ginny had been tripped up by one of the flagstones that had jumped up and caught her toe. It didn’t hurt her much, except for her pride. Honestly, she could deal with dark curses and a few evil hexes, but a flagstone? Apparently not.

‘Where did you learn most of those spells?’ Dumbledore inquired, fixing the material covering his shoulder and carefully healing the cut on his cheek

‘Eh, just now, from you,’ Ginny said, rubbing her back and flexing her shoulders. ‘Oh, I needed that! I haven’t had that much of a work out since my brothers were all staying in the same house.’

Dumbledore chose to ignore that comment, taking it as the usual sibling rivalry rather than completely honest fact. ‘Do you know what most of the spells did?’

Ginny straightened up and half shook, half nodded her head. ‘Some of them you can tell what they do by the magic they use. Others are harder to identify until you see the effects.’

‘What spell do you think you‘re best at?’

Ginny knew the answer to that one! ‘The Bat-Bogey Hex,’ she replied confidently, allowing a small, only slightly vindictive grin creep across her face as she remembered the faces of Malfoy’s cronies, Crabbe and Goyle, when she had used her latest version of the spell.

‘Show me,’ Dumbledore ordered, transfiguring a chair into a wooden dummy.

Ginny cast the spell, noticing with disappointment that wooden-dummy-bogies were boring. So much more fun when Crabbe is getting attacked by several smaller, greener, stickier versions of himself.

‘Silently,’ the professor said, leaving no room for argument.

Again Ginny cast the spell with ease, barely even having to concentrate any harder on the spell than she had to when she said it out loud.

‘Now without your wand,’ Dumbledore next ordered. ‘You may say it out loud, if you wish.’

Ginny panicked slightly. She couldn’t do this! The most she could do was a tiny summoning charm, and that had only worked once with a single coin. Never was she going to be able to perform the full bat-bogey hex without her wand. Nonetheless, she put her wand in her pocket and turned to the wooden dummy nervously, her fingers flexing as she tried to breath calmly.

Somewhere in the back of her mind she heard Harry, from when he was teaching her to cast silent spells. Don’t think about it any differently. The magic in you doesn’t respond to words or movement, it listens to your heart and your mind. The more you can get them to agree the stronger your spell, but all you need to cast a spell is the right amount of will, concentration and confidence in yourself and your own skill. Now, give it a go. Remember, it’s only me. Only him. Only Harry. Ginny bit down harder on her bottom lip and raised her head, a warm calm settling over her. Then she concentrated.

The spell didn’t quite hit the mannequin. In fact, it came a lot closer to what Ginny had secretly hoped it would hit. Dumbledore was flustered for a moment before he cast the counter-charm upon himself.

‘You know that casting silent and wandless spells they are directed only to where you wish them to go?’ he said wryly, his eyes sparkling.

‘Sorry sir,’ Ginny apologised reproachfully. ‘But I always did wander what you’d look like as a bogey man.’

Dumbledore chuckled lightly. ‘Yes, well, I’m guessing that is one of your first attempts at wandless magic?’

‘Yes, sir,’ Ginny confirmed.

‘Well, then, that was astonishingly good, all things considered. Between now and Friday I would like you to do a little research on wandless magic and to practise as often as you can.’ He paused, then added, ‘I’m sure you’ll be able to find some willing or, perhaps, unwillingly subjects.’ He twinkled at her once more and swept out of the room.

Ginny glanced at the clock and let out a profanity as she realised she was supposed to be meeting Harry Potter Sr. In the library right about now. With a backwards glance over her shoulder Ginny set the room into something that might have resembled order, if the furniture hadn’t all been upside down and swept quickly down the corridors, arriving at the library just as Potter was leaving.

‘Oh, I thought you weren’t going to turn up,’ he said apologetically.

Ginny decided that the face and hair looked as though they were missing some vital part of the composition without her Harry’s startling green eyes. Ginny had to forcibly remind herself that they didn’t come in for another two generations.

‘Sorry,’ Ginny said, gasping for breath. ‘Lesson…. Over ran… got here as… soon as I could.’

‘Right,’ Potter said as they turned back into the library and searched for a private corner. ‘You’re special lessons with Professor Dumbledore.’

‘You know about them?’ Ginny said, her breathing almost back to normal.

Potter nodded as the two of them sat down in a nook between different cause for boils and potions involving bole. ‘Everyone knows everything you’ve told anyone,’ he said in the same, bumbling way that reminded Ginny strongly of his grandson.

‘You mean, nothing?’ she clarified.

He grinned. ‘Yeah.’

‘Yeah, well, I lost track of time. It’s only my first extra lesson, but it was interesting.’

‘What did you do?’

‘We duelled a bit and then I started work on wandless magic.’

Maybe she’d told him a little too much. It wasn’t hard to remember that he wasn’t her Harry, but it was easy to forget that he wouldn’t just accept that she was probably just a little ahead academically than the rest of her year. But whatever the exact cause it took Ginny a moment to rouse the Gryffindor, who was staring at her open mouthed. She waved her hand in front of his face once or twice and when he only blinked she resorted to threats.

‘If you’re not careful you’ll swallow a fly. In fact, if you’re not careful, you’ll catch a whole bunch of flies, all coming out of my wand.

At that Potter’s mouth clamped shut. ‘You duelled… wandless magic?’ Ginny finally understood after he several failed attempts to talk.

‘Um, well he beat me pretty easily,’ Ginny said. ‘But yeah. And I’ve only just started wandless magic, I’m really bad at it at the moment,’ she quickly lied. Although she had missed the dummy, Ginny couldn’t help but picture the tiny green Dumbledores that soared around the Professor, attacking him and squeaking threateningly.

Potter shook his head in amazement. ‘You really are something else, Miss Craigson.’

‘Please, call me Ginny,’ she said with a grin.

‘Harry,’ he responded, mirroring her smile. ‘Are you sure you’re a Slytherin? You seem loads better than the rest of your lot.’

Ginny felt a little awkward calling this boy Harry. He looked so similar, except for the eyes, and the fact that they shared names just made things worse. ‘Don’t tell anyone I told you this, but we’re actually not all bad. I know I’ve only been here a day, but they’re all so much like friends I have back…’ Ginny trailed off. ‘The friends I used to have,’ she replaced.

‘What happened to them, if you don’t mind me asking?’

Ginny looked up with large, sad brown eyes, searching, searching for the emerald eyes she dearly longed to see. She could see the face and the hair and the figure and even the same expression, but not his eyes. ‘They died,’ she whispered. ‘Murdered.’

Potter – no, Harry – lay a comforting hand on her shoulder and opened his mouth. To say something, to ask something or just to yawn, Ginny didn’t see or hear because she dropped her face in her hands and tried, tried not to think it was her Harry beside her. The a brilliant, if slightly ludicrous plan flashed across her mind.

‘Po – Harry. Do you have a girlfriend?’

‘No…’ he said cautiously, wary of her sudden change in mood and where the question was leading.

‘Would you… could you do me a favour?’ Ginny asked, just as cautiously.

‘What?’

Ginny blinked at his bluntness, before deciding she might as well tell the truth. ‘Back from where I lived before, I suppose I can’t even call it home, now, there was a guy.’ Ginny stopped and drew in a long, unsteady breath. ‘We were in love. We’d known each other since he was twelve, I was eleven, and he saved my life in more ways than one. For a long time it was a stupid, school girl crush that he ignored as much as I tried to. Then, somehow, it changed. He made my world complete. Even when the world started falling down around our shoulders, there was still him and my family and friends so it didn’t seem to matter too much.

‘Then, one day, our shoulders finally gave way underneath the weight of the world. Everyone died. I was the only one who lived and God!’ Ginny furiously brushed away the hot tears that were clawing their way down her cheeks. ‘How I wish, sometimes that I didn’t live. I know it’s stupid, and I should be thankful I lived, but I miss them so much.’

Harry took all this in with sympathy mixed strongly with confusion. ‘So, uh, what did you want me to do?’

‘You know how I turned white at breakfast this morning?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Well, you, uh, look almost exactly like the guy I was in love with. And then you turn out to have the same name as well…’ Ginny trailed off, looking everywhere and anywhere but at the boy sat opposite her. How often that seemed to be happening lately – first Riddle and now Potter.

‘You want closure?’ Potter said, suddenly understanding.

‘Yeah,’ Ginny replied bashfully.

Then, to her complete and utter surprise, Pott – Harry – cupped her cheek in his hand and pressed a soft kiss onto her lips. He immediately drew back and dropped her face as soon as his lips so much as grazed hers.

Ginny let out a long sigh. It had a little bit of her Harry in it, but it was different. Different in a bad way, Ginny decided. Plus, now that she thought about it, there was something very, very wrong about kissing her ex-boyfriend’s granddad. Ginny shuddered imperceptibly. That was just gross.

‘Thanks,’ she said with a smile, not letting any of her inner thoughts express themselves on her face.

‘Help?’ Harry asked.

Ginny nodded. ‘Yeah, thanks. I’m sorry for using you that way, I just… it was time to let go, you know?’

Harry nodded slowly. ‘Well, I’m glad I could help,’ he said and then stood, half turning away from her before Ginny caught his sleeve.

‘Look, I know it’ll probably be a bit awkward, but do you want to meet up again at some other time, just to chat and study for a bit or something?’

He paused and Ginny found her breath catch in her throat as she waited for his response. ‘Sure, why not?’ he said finally, after what seemed like hours of waiting. Then he grinned and left.

Ginny sank back into the seat, slouching. Despite the obvious similarities between this Harry Potter and the future one, Ginny didn’t find herself attracted to him at all. His kiss had been nice, but nothing more than that, and Ginny honestly couldn’t face the thought of replacing one Harry Potter with another. But she really did want to be friends with the Head Boy. He was more easy-going than her Harry – with the kind of posture and relaxed attitude that Ginny’s generation had lost somewhere during the war.

‘Interesting conversations you have,’ Eileen said as she rounded the bookcase, followed shortly by Katrina and Yuna.

‘Were you three eavesdropping?’ Ginny scolded mildly.

‘Of course not!’ Yuna said in a playfully horrified voice.

‘Tell us about your Harry, Ginny,’ Katrina said. ‘Is he as dreamy as my one?’

‘Your one?’ Eileen asked with a giggle, elbowing Katrina in the ribs.

‘What? He may be a Gryffindor, but he’s one smoking piece of ass,’ Katrina protested, pouting.

‘My Harry was hotter,’ Ginny inserted.

‘No way. The only one thing on God’s earth that’s hotter than my Harry is Tom Riddle,’ Katrina argued.

‘Mm, Riddle ass,’ Yuna agreed.

‘Riddlers?’ Eileen asked in confusion.

‘Oh, don’t even go there, Tom’s such a Riddle it hurts to even think about it,’ Katrina moaned.

Ginny shook her head and bit her lip again, this time to stop from laughing. It was so much like old times, with all of the Gryffindor girls hanging around together at Hogsmeade, giggling over butterbeers as boyfriends, best friends and old crushes all got added to the strange mix that was teenage conversation. Looking into each of the faces of the three other girls Ginny found that, if only she could let go of the ghosts of her past, she could find some kind of peace her in this new world.


--vVvVvVv--


Riddle was sat with his back leaning against the bookcase between him and four girls who were now chatting amiably about the hot guys at school. Although their current topic amused him greatly – apparently he was the hottest boy in the school, seconded by Head Boy and Gryffindor, Harry Potter and followed soon after by Theodore Grant – it was the previous one that he had been listening so intently to.

From the moment he had heard Ginny agree to meet up with the Potter boy he had decided he was going to follow them and listen in. His moods had changed, as had Riddle’s impression of Ginny, but that goal had not. So he had watched as Potter had waited nervously by the library door and had groaned in annoyance when he saw him leave, sighing when he returned with an out-of-breath Ginny.

He too had been shocked by Ginny’s account of what had happened during her ‘extra lessons’, but less so than the Head Boy. Riddle already knew that Ginny was an extremely intelligent young witch. And he was fascinated by the little that she told Potter about her life before.

Riddle frowned. Before what? Before she came to Hogwarts seemed to fit, but like trying to slot two puzzle pieces together it just didn’t quite match. Because although all that had happened before Ginny came to Hogwarts, her arrival was not the reason for the change. No, something else had. And Riddle couldn’t dampen the fire that was demanding to know what that something was, because when he found out he was going to do it some serious damage – Ginny irritated him no end, but the only one he would allow hurt her was Riddle himself.

Not that he had hurt her, but then she hadn’t been at the school two full days yet. Riddle tried not to think about the fact that he had had all of the other boys and girls of his year under his thumb before lunchtime of their first full day at Hogwarts as first years.

Another thing that Riddle thought, by rights, shouldn’t be done to Ginny by anyone but himself was the closure she wanted. A kiss. If she wanted a damn kiss so bad why didn’t she just ask him, rather than go gallivanting off with annoying seventh years… a Gryffindor no less. Had she no pride? Although Riddle had to admit to himself that the Potter kid had taken it much better than he would have. He probably would have laughed in her face.

Still, maybe it was best that Ginny got her closure. It might make her a little more accepting of the unspoken school rules. For example; Gryffindors do not talk to Slytherins. Tom Riddle’s word is law. You’re supposed to sabotage other people’s potions, not stop the sabotage. The list went on and on and Ginny seemed either ignorant or was purposefully ignoring them. Riddle got the feeling it was the latter.

Riddle sighed and tuned back into what the girls behind him were saying.

‘Oh, he’s not so bad,’ he heard Ginny say. Riddle wondered who the ‘he’ was.

‘You’re kidding, right?’ Eileen – or was it Katrina? – said.

‘No, I’m not. He’s a bit misunderstood and, I guess, a little sadistic now and then…’

Someone laughed. ‘Now that’s one for the book: Tom Riddle, a little sadistic… once in a while.’ Whoever it was who had spoken, their voice was thick with gleeful sarcasm.
Riddle’s interest was suddenly perked – it wasn’t everyday that he got to hear exactly what people thought of him. At least, not admitting it honestly and openly to their friends.

‘Seriously, though–’ this was Ginny again ‘–I think he’s just misunderstood.’

‘I’m sorry to break it to you, Gin, but there’s not much to misunderstand about Tom. He has to be the best at everything, you have to do exactly what he says and he has to get what he wants. If not, then someone gets hurt. Generally someone who had nothing to do with the events whatsoever.’

Riddle couldn’t help but feel proud of himself when whoever it was said that. She was saying exactly what he wanted to tell them all about himself.

‘We each deal with sorrow and loss different ways,’ he heard Ginny say. What was she on about it? ‘I snog random Gryffindor boys. He beats people up. It’s the way the world works.’ Ginny paused, before adding quietly. ‘My ex used to play very, very good Quidditch.’

‘It seems odd to be calling him your ‘ex’ doesn’t it?’ One of the other girls asked her. ‘Because you never broke up.’

Riddle could almost see in his mind’s eye Ginny’s rueful little grin and the half shake of her head as she was told this. He couldn’t tell how, exactly, he knew what she was going to do, the way she was going to move, but it seemed as though he had known her once. It may have been a very long time ago, but Riddle felt as though she had told him everything and, if only he could search long enough and hard enough, he might find that shard of memory containing her. But every time he grasped for it it slid further and further away.

Riddle sighed again. He had an unquenchable thirst for knowledge; to know the unknown. And when he listened to Ginny, when he thought about her, when he saw her, he knew that she was the biggest unknown of all.