17Ginny Weasley and the Riddle Diary
By Starwin
Authors Notes (forward)
First, before we get started I would like to take this moment to thank JKR. Without her, this story would not exist. This world of Harry Potter would not exist. We are truly lucky that she found the strength to pen such a fantastic universe. And even luckier that she has permitted the fan community to write about it in our own way.
What you are about to read is the other side of the story in "The Chamber of Secrets", from the perspective of Ginny (as though the title was not a giveaway) and Voldemort. It is as close to the cannon as I can make it, with small liberties (many derived from fan speculation).
Due to the nature of this story some scenes from CoS are recreated. Dialog is verbatim, but the scenes themselves are different, due to a different perspective on them. In short, I have tried to make it as similar to CoS and as different as I can.
Ever since I finished CoS, I have always had this sideways picture of what Ginny really went through. Well here it is, I hope you enjoy!
Chapter 1 – The Boy with the Secret Name
Tom Riddle was an unusual boy, although he did not look it. He had short, tidy black hair and a handsome face. He was not tall, not short, but simply, average. He dressed much like the other children around him, in a gray and black school uniform. And he attended classes, just like other students.
Anyone who saw him or talked to him or listened to him would not find Tom any different from any other child. Because that was the whole point. He strived to blend in. He worked exceptionally hard to appear only slightly better, even though he was far more gifted then most.
It was not his looks, his words nor his actions that made Tom Riddle unusual. It was the plain and simple fact that he, could do magic. For Tom Riddle was a wizard.
For most of his life he had not known this simple truth about himself. He had of course figured out that he was different from other children, gifted with something he could not define. But a wizard, he had never considered that.
Wizards were myths, fairytales, fiction for books and movies. Yet, every time he looked back at the facts, Tom Riddle could not help but wonder how he had ignored the obvious for so long.
Tom had learned that he was a wizard when a man arrived at the orphanage where he lived. He had told Tom Riddle that he was special, that his gifts were really magic. And the man knew other things beyond the fact Tom was a wizard. He knew things that were impossible.
His name was Dumbledore and he was a professor from a secret school called Hogwarts. This school was not a normal school because at Hogwarts they trained witches and wizards how to use magic. Tom had not believed him, he had demanded that this old man tell him the truth, the way he had made the other orphans tell him so many times. They had always obeyed this command, but Dumbledore had not.
His gifts seemed to have no effect what-so-ever. It had peaked Tom's interest. He had to know. He had to be sure this man was telling the truth.
So Dumbledore showed Tom a trick. Using magic he exposed Tom's secret thefts, his prizes from the other children in the orphanage. He had used a spell to make the wardrobe, where Tom kept them, burn with flame. Tom had not been afraid, he was never afraid. The truth of what he had seen only made him hunger for the power behind it.
In his moment of excitement about what mysteries lay before him Tom had let slip a valuable secret. He had not meant too, but he craved to know more and the man had offered him so little. He had thought that if he traded one of his greatest secrets the man would in turn give one of his own.
"I can speak to snakes," Tom had said proudly. The man paused and gave him an odd look. A look, that Tom did not like. "I found out when we've been to the country on trips—they find me, they whisper to me. Is that normal for a wizard?
"It is unusual but not unheard of," the man had responded. But no more than that.
Then he left, like everyone always did. Tom preferred it that way, he worked better alone. He had never had anyone he could trust, and this man was no different. Friends and trust were weakness. He would never put trust in anyone other then himself ever again.
Tom had worked hard, very hard, harder than any student that had ever come before him, so that he would never have to trust another human. For six years he had studied in secret, he had learned things that not even his teachers knew. He had learned things that no one knew. Finally, his work had been rewarded in his discoveries.
How could he possibly have known what lay before him all those years ago? The things he alone was meant to discover. The things he alone, would accomplish. For the first time in his life, Tom had the power to take his destiny into his own hands. Tonight, he would take the first step in securing his future.
Tom strode down the corridors of his school, the castle known as Hogwarts. It was a school for the magically gifted. It was a place where wizarding children came to learn the ways of magic. They thought of it as their second home, as a place they knew well and were safe. But all of them were wrong.
It was his castle. He alone had learned all of its secrets. He alone knew its true purpose. Now he could go where he pleased, do what he pleased and no one could stop him.
However, there was no need to exercise such authority just yet. Those around him did not suspect what he had in store for them. Sure, some of them, especially the mudblooded filth, feared the things he had set in motion, but they did not fear him, they did not know him. For now, that was the way he liked it.
They only knew the face he presented. The slightly handsome, innocent face, so usually accompanied by a warm smile that never reached his eyes. It was the mask he wore for the others and they bought it, without a second thought. The blind are easy to fool when they cannot see the snake hiding in plain sight.
Tonight he would discard his mask. Once the deed was done he would no longer have to hide his secret name. After tonight this school would be his! Its filth would be scrubbed clean from its halls. The taint of those impostors that dared call themselves wizard would be eradicated like the pests they were.
Tom did not quicken his pace towards his destination. He was in no hurry, his plans did not require speed, simply force of will. After all, one did not rush to their destiny, they moved to it with confidence and certainty. He knew with every fiber of his being that tonight would be the night he would close his fingers around the reins of immortality.
This passageway was empty for the moment, most of the other students were having dinner. No one would see him. No one would know it was too late, until it was.
He had planned everything. He had set it all in motion. All it had taken was a single whispered word in the right ear. The power of a single word.
He checked once again that everything was in order. The simple leather book was in his pocket. His wand hung loosely at his side. And he could clearly recall the ritual of the spell he needed to cast. All that remained now was the deed and the sacrifice needed to perform it.
Tom stopped at a wooden door halfway down the hall. The sign on the door indicated that it was a girl's restroom. Tom pushed open the door very slightly and the sweetest sound he'd ever heard greeted his ears, someone was crying. The sobs were high pitched and slobbery.
All to plan, Tom thought as he pushed open the door. He had come into this restroom many times, but never for its intended purpose. The first time he had been in awe of its splendor, its simplicity. Each visit he had learned much and more.
But this visit he had not come to learn. He had not come to talk. He had come for its true purpose, its secret purpose. To kill.
This restroom, that looked so similar to many others in the school, concealed a hidden truth. A dark and terrible secret, long hidden in plain sight. There was an entrance to a sealed-off chamber in this restroom. A chamber where Tom had spent many days devising his plans.
Tonight, he would use its greatest power of all, an ancient living weapon. The Chamber of Secrets was home to a monstrous snake that could kill with a single gaze. It would look upon the filth that huddled, crying in the stall at the end and she would look back, and she would die.
It wasn't even that he hated the girl he was about to murder. In truth he knew very little about her, other than she was a Mudblood and easily manipulated. He needed her sacrifice for his plan.
With a few quick steps Tom crossed the entryway and moved to the large, dirty, row of sinks that stood in the center of the bathroom. He ran his hand along the copper tap of the sink. His fingers brushed against the engraved snake, concealed on the knob.
Tom took a deep breath. He was ready, the spell firm in his mind, his intent clear. He called forth the great beast that waited below.
His words came out strange, not words at all really but a sort of hissing sound. The hiss lingered in the air for a moment before an almost silent hiss returned his own. The beast was coming, it had heard his call.
"Who is that!" cried a voice from the end stall. The sobs had not stopped completely, but the angry words lingered in the air. Tom's eyes flicked towards the sound, but his face showed no expression.
"Who is there!" demanded the female voice again. "You sound like a boy! This is the girl's bathroom." The stall door swung open and a black haired, slightly chubby girl emerged.
"Tom…" she whispered. She had obviously not expected to find Tom Riddle glaring at her, for she looked truly surprised, perhaps, even frightened.
The creak of stone behind Tom indicated that his monster had arrived, that it was ready to do his bidding, that it was ready to kill for him. And he was ready too.
"My name," said Tom very quietly. The girls eyes shifted a little, focusing on the rising shaped behind the boy. Her mouth opened slightly. "Is Lord Voldemort."
Before she could speak another word or even acknowledge that she had heard him, she froze. There was an expression of utter terror on her face and then, without a sound, she slumped to the ground, motionless and still.
Voldemort knew she was dead. Though he had not lifted a finger to do it, her death was his doing, his intent, and that was all that mattered in the end. This single act was enough to put his spell in motion. All of the books he'd read, all of the preparations he'd done had not prepared him for the reality of murder.
A slight smile parted his lips and this time, something in his eyes flashed red with delight. If this was all it took to accomplish his goals, it would be easy. Life was even more fragile than he had guessed which made this task even more important.
Reaching into the pockets of his robes Voldemort withdrew a small black leather book. It was muggle made, a diary, meant to keep a written record of ones life over the pointless days.
However, Voldemort had never used it for that purpose. He had spent a good deal of the summer and much of the school year writing in the book. But it had not been tid-bits about his day.
Voldemort had made it much more than a simple record. He had chronicled his life in exquisite detail within its pages. Each page filled with words and images and symbols. This was more than a simple book, it was a part of him.
Almost haphazardly, he tossed the book onto the body of the lifeless girl. It landed on her with a soft thud before bouncing onto the stone floor.
All he had to do now, was wait. He had already cast the spell upon himself, using a stolen school wand. After the spell had been complete, he had snapped and burned the wand, least it betray him in his secrets.
The seconds crept painfully by. He was not anxious. He knew he had cast the spell correctly and he would not let doubt find its way into him.
His patience was rewarded. Silver-white light began to roll off his body like mist. It crept out along the floor, stretching like tendrils towards the lifeless body. The smoky white fog drove through her as if she wasn't there, before wrapping itself around the book and lifting it slightly into the air.
Lord Voldemort braced himself. The books had warned him that there would be pain. At first it was just a little tug, no more painful then a band-aid being pulled away slowly. Then he could feel the spell tearing at the deepest part of him, ripping him open.
It was painful, but he did not wince, nor did he cry out. Quite the opposite, his face was split with an insane grin of twisted enjoyment at his own mutilation. This pain was good.
And then, it tore him. No amount of reading or preparation could have prepared him for what it felt like to lose a part of his soul. His face contorted with agony and… fear. This felt like death!
For the briefest of moments, he was Tom Riddle again, a sixth year student, a child. Then Lord Voldemort stamped him out. His scream of anguish became a roar of triumph.
A deafening roar like an angry beast erupted from the book, echoing Voldemort's own. The mists had completely entwined the book, forming a strange sort of chain from book, to dead body, to Voldemort. The tendrils of mist constricted around the book, pulling taunt against Voldemort. Then the book burst into white hot flames.
The air in the bathroom began to turn and whirl so that Voldemort's robes flapped wildly around him. The covers of the book flew open and the pages flipped on their own, not turned by the magical wind. The black ink scrawls burned from each page as it flipped past, the words and symbols consumed by the flames.
Voldemort's eyes watched the book intently. He did not blink nor look away. He did not want to miss even one moment of this fantastic sight. He had done it. He, had done it!
Then, as quickly as it had begun, the wind died. The book closed, all its pages having been flipped through. The room became eerily silent save for the dripping of water.
Voldemort reached down with trembling hands, excitement in his eyes, and lifted the black book from the corpse of the girl. He opened its completely blank pages and waited.
He did not have to wait long. Ink began to bleed from the empty page, one simple line in his own hand writing appeared. "It worked."
Authors Notes (regular)
Thank you everyone for taking the time to come and read my work! I hope you enjoyed it!
Now, some of you might be thinking, wait a minute? Didn't you say this story was about Ginny Weasley? She isn't even in this chapter! Yes I did, and no she isn't. I also said this story was about Ginny and Voldemort! And the title actually refers to them both!
This story has been in production for more than ten years! Well, kind of. It's always been something I wanted to write, even before I knew that there was such a thing as fanfiction. I've been actually writing it on-and-off for more like two years now.
Its had lots of different starting points, but ultimately I thought we should start here, with Tom Riddle. After all, he is at the heart of this mess.
Next chapter in two weeks (Monday December 26th!). And every chapter to follow every two weeks until we are done.
I hope you come back for more, this party is just getting started!
~Starwin
