Final Riddles

Yes! I have completed this chapter in celebration that I FINALLY GOT AN A IN CHEMISTRY FOR FOURTH QUARTER! XD XD XD Of course, I got a C on the final, but that’s not important. So now, the only class I’ve never got an A in in all four quarters is band.

Yaaaaaaay.

Anyways, thank you so much to Daughter of the Black for being an incredible beta and to all my reviewers.

I hope I can update more often, but between volunteering, classes, work, SAT prep, and procrastination, I might be a little pressed for time. But I’ll try to update soon. Enjoy the new chapter, even if it’s something you’ve seen twice before. Literally.

…….

I am black, I am fear

A mere shadow of what looms near

Chapter One: Boggart

Her blood froze and her chest stilled, with only the slow metronomic pounding of her heart drumming in her ears. Her knees threatened to buckle beneath her as she tightened her grip on her wand, her body tense with her eyes trained on the limp corpse with matted red hair soiled into brown obscuring his face. Slowly, the body rolled over by its own will, tousling the hair aside. And there she saw them – those wide, haunted blue eyes she could never forget, stilled into lifelessness.

“Dad,” she whispered brokenly, and she tore her eyes away. She knew what he looked like; she saw the image every night when her eyes drifted closed. Legs tangled and burned into one; holes carved into his palms… She didn’t need to see this. Not at night, and not now. Not now, standing in an empty classroom in broad daylight.

A crack startled her into opening her eyes, and suddenly there was Mum: Mum, with her beautiful auburn hair and those lips that were so often pulled into an easy smile, melded together –

Crack. Crack. Crack.

It was Fred and George – no, Ron – no, then Bill, with gashes along the sides of his face exposing raw flesh – no, Charlie! – Harry.

Oh God, it was Harry, exactly as she had seen him when he had been showcased, dead, after the last battle. Secured within his hands were his own eyeballs, gouged out from their sockets. Those empty lids sank deep and his lightning-bolt-shaped scar was carved out. And –

She felt her stomach turn again. She couldn’t – Merlin, she was going to throw up –

Crack.

Harry rose, his body abruptly restored to perfection. A smile flitted across her face for the briefest moment as he approached her, tenderly reaching out to tuck a stray curl behind her ears. “Harry!” she breathed, lifting her eyes to catch his pale blue ones –

No. Harry’s eyes were green, like the color of a fresh-pickled toad. The drumming in her ears halted into an unnerving silence. This wasn’t Harry. This was Tom Riddle.

His slender fingers ran along the length of her chin and she shuddered, pulling away in disgust. His eyes – those damn blue eyes – laughed with amusement. “Sweet Ginny,” he mused. “You know it’s not me you’re afraid of. You only fear the truth, and I am its only messenger.”

She bit her lip and turned away, dread churning in her stomach.

“Miss Ginevra?”

A new voice abruptly captured her attention and she turned, startled, to find Professor Dippet standing in the back of the classroom with a quizzical look on his face. And instantly, she remembered – she was still being tested. She had significantly recovered since her brush with death, and Dumbledore had somehow persuaded Dippet to consider accepting Ginny as a potential Hogwarts student if she could pass an entrance exam. But, she wondered, what was Riddle…? Steeling herself, she returned to catch Riddle’s steady gaze.

Boggart, she realized. Boggart. “Merlin!” she muttered under her breath. Riddle was advancing – and what was the incantation? Rid… Ridicule? No, that definitely wasn’t it. If it was, that would be absolutely ridiculous –

…Oh.

She lifted her wand. “Rid – ”

His eyes taunted, daring her to complete the spell. “You know it was you, my little siren.”

Bull, Ginny reminded herself. Bullshit. Raising her voice, she swung her wand down hard. “ – ikulus!” she finished, and he immediately collapsed into a disfigured heap on the floor. The air was a still as she waited in anticipation – was that it? Was it over? Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward, but faltered as the boggart began to move again.

But it was Harry – Harry, with those emerald green eyes – who rose this time, with his lopsided smile and round glasses. Harry, alive, with his scar intact and his limbs in order. Her breathing hitched – when was the last time she had seen him? She was doused in a sudden wave of homesickness, images flickering through her mind in short clips. A broom and a Quidditch goal post. A snitch. A bat-boogey hex. A hug. The Room of Requirement. “Harry…”

“This is your chance, Ginny,” he grinned as he returned to the trunk that the boggart had been released from. “Weed evil out before it begins – ”

The trunk lid slammed shut before she could catch the last of his words, ringing in her ears.

“That’s all, Miss Ginevra. I suggest you return to the Hospital Wing. No doubt Thyla – excuse me – Madame Frost will want you to rest after this strenuous practical,” Dippet suggested, his tone a forced light.

She could vaguely hear him in the background, white noise against the reverberating echoes of Harry’s last words. Numbly, Ginny nodded. Her gaze was still fixed on the trunk as she felt her way out of the classroom.

“Do you need help making the trip there?” the headmaster inquired, his brows furrowed in concern.

There was a moment’s pause as Ginny struggled to find her voice. “No,” she responded faintly before tearing her eyes away to meet Dippet’s. “I can make it on my own. Thank you, Sir,” she continued, her voice stronger. And hurriedly, before he could insist on accompanying her to the infirmary, she slipped out the door and tore through the hallways.

She just wanted to be alone.

--

The room was a hazy black when Ginny opened her eyes in the middle of the night, rolling over to stare at the Hospital Wing ceiling. Her arm still danced with the magic she had felt surging through her body when she gripped the wand for the test – a flood of comforting warmth that made a smile flicker on her face. And with it, sudden memories came streaming back, dousing her in shock. As if a piece of her was returned with the return of magic.

Happy memories. Happy memories that brought a twisting wistfulness into her heart. A reminder of how life was before it climaxed into death. Of summer days when she would sneak into the broom cupboard to fly; of winter days cuddled by the Gryffindor fire in the large red armchair. Even rushing to finish a two-foot-long essay due for Transfiguration in ten minutes.

Normalcy – and here was her chance to taste it again, though without family. Without friends. But normalcy tasted bitter now, whereas it used to taste bland. She wasn’t sure if she could return to normalcy, even if she tried. The stain of war shadowed her; she could see it haunting her eyes whenever she caught a glimpse of herself in a still pool of water or a mirror.

Would she ever be able to forget?

Did she want to?

Her attention was caught by an opening door and hurried whispers. She bit her lip. The hour was late, and Ginny could think of no one who might still be up.

“Professors! Is anything the matter? My patient is sleeping, and I can’t – ”

“In your office, Thyla – ”

“Of course, of course – ”

The door closed again, and from the corner of her eye, the redhead could see three figures settling themselves in the office. They spoke in murmurs, but having lived so long in the dark, Ginny’s ears were finely tuned to catch almost every word passed between the professors.

“Yes, what is it?” Madame Frost urged.

“I… was wondering exactly how… fit you find Miss Black – excuse me, Miss Ginevra – is to be as a Hogwarts student?” Dippet inquired, clearing his throat. It hadn’t been long after she affirmed that Hogwarts was not a concentration camp and that she had fallen back in time before she rectified her earlier lie, masquerading as Bellatrix Black.

An awkward pause stretched before Madame Frost conjured an answer. “She’s improved remarkably since her arrival,” the nurse began slowly, “and – and if she continues to improve at the same pace, she’ll be more than fit to be a student when it comes to health.” A moment’s silence hung. “That is, if she continues to come in for weekly check-ups and takes potions, of course,” she added hastily.

“More than fit…” Dippet repeated.

A new voice, one Ginny recognized as Dumbledore’s, inputted, “How was her practical?”

“Practical?”

“For the entrance exam.”

“Ah yes, the practical.” Ginny shifted in her bed, waiting anxiously for Dippet to continue. Dread clogged her stomach. Having forgotten many of the spells that he demanded of her, her performance was less than stunning. “She certainly has magical talent – that much is obvious. However, she did not properly execute as many spells as would be required of her as a Hogwarts student, though she seemed to be more rusty than oblivious.”

“Rusty?”

A sigh was heaved before Dippet confirmed, “Rusty. As if she hadn’t cast magic in a long time, instead of never having learned.”

“Ah…”

“She did perform better in some subject areas than others,” Dippet said abruptly, when silence was threatening to triumph again. “Defense Against the Dark Arts – best performance by far. It would take little extra training to bring her up to NEWT level.”

Ginny fought to keep from laughing. A little extra training in Defense Against the Dark Arts? She probably knew more in the subject than Dippet did himself, even if she hadn’t practiced magic at all in what felt like eons.

“I – I noticed a certain pattern in the areas that she performed best in,” Dippet began hesitantly. “More domestic spells – turning frogs into teacups, for instance – were lost on her, while other more… for lack of a better term, survival-savvy skills were stronger.”

Well, no surprise there. Ginny could imagine the scene within the nurse’s office: three frowns pulled, Dippet in confusion, Dumbledore in thought, and Frost in worry.

“She seems to be clever enough otherwise. I expect that she can keep up with Hogwarts schoolwork, she will just require tutoring to catch up,” Dippet continued.

“Will you be accepting her to Hogwarts, then?” Madame Frost asked.

Another heavy sigh was drawn. “There’s too much that I don’t know about her for me to make that decision right now,” Dippet concluded. He paused for a moment before commenting, “You say you think she’ll be physically prepared for school?”

“Well… at the rate things are headed for right now, yes,” Madame Frost said.

“Very well then, that is all. Good night, Thyla.”

“Sleep well,” Dumbledore said, and Ginny heard the door open and feet shuffle.

“Good night, Armando, Albus.”

The door to Madame Frost’s office clicked shut and the lights were extinguished shortly after. She heard a pair of footsteps walking across the infirmary before they suddenly halted.

“There’s one more thing I didn’t mention,” Dippet said in a low undertone. “During the practical, one of the obstacles was a boggart.” His voice dropped. “I saw people impaled by their own wands. People with body parts turned inside out, iron melted against skin… People who – for the most part – looked to be of her family.” He huffed disbelievingly before repeating, “Impaled! By their own wand, Albus!”

Ginny tensed and her heart pace quickened. So he had seen.

“But that’s not the oddest part – the boggart then turned into a student here, at Hogwarts,” Dippet said. “Our own Head Boy.”

A student at Hogwarts? Head Boy? But that meant –

“Her boggart turned into Tom Riddle?” Dumbledore said.

– Tom Riddle was a student at Hogwarts. Now.

Ginny squeezed her eyes shut. What was the year? What was the number printed on that issue of the Daily Prophet that Dumbledore had shown her? Nineteen…

1943.

Her stomach clenched. It was true.

They began to walk again, and she heard a doorknob turn. “He spoke to her, too – and she answered back. But after she cast the spell on it – you understand how most boggarts turn into something similar, like how a banshee boggart might lose its voice, but not change. Her boggart changed person. Another person, who I recognized to have had the most gruesome death the boggart took shape in. But he was healthy, intact – and he spoke to her. Something encouraging, I believe.”

They closed the door to the Hospital Wing behind them, and Ginny could no longer decipher their muffled voices. She rolled over, her eyes wide open as she stared out into the hazy black.

Tom Riddle – student.

Suddenly, the words she had contemplated all day drifted through her mind.

This is your chance, Ginny. Weed out evil before it begins…

She bit her lip and her fists clenched the white blanket. She would do it. She was a Gryffindor; she could face Tom Riddle. If for nothing else, for Harry. For her family.

God damn, she’d do it for the whole wizarding world.

She was going to stop Lord Voldemort from ever becoming.

She faltered. That is… she would have to be accepted into Hogwarts, first.

Well, Ginny tutted to herself, way to be anticlimactic.

......

Some of Ginny's personality's coming back! School will start in the next chapter, huzzah :D