Fifty Years Ago

The Order was desperate. The Horcuxes were not found in time as the Dark Lord advanced. There was but one solution, their best, and worst, plan of all. GWTR

Disclaimer: I don't own HP. Applies to full story.

Originally, I was not going to write an actual entire story of Ginny and Tom until "Peek-A-Boo," which I am currently suffering writer's block with. However, I have figured that there are not enough Ginny/Tom fics to go around, and I must add another.

Please review. I've got terribly low self esteem and reviews make me proud and help me update faster.

XD Enjoy!

So, I was planning on deleting this story when I happened to cross a Ginny/Tom story in my favorites and I recalled the beauty of this pairing. Then I decided to rewrite it to fit my preference… like how I’m rewriting all the other stories that I’m doing right now. Please review!

It had been storming for nights now, the constant thundering deafening ears, the flashes of lightning blinding the eyes. The pounding of rain as it hit the roof thudded loudly, never ceasing once. It was in the middle of this terrible storm when Ginny Weasley was called to the Order, brought to the meeting room, people sitting in a row with grim faces, weary and depressed. All hope that had once existed was vanished, had there ever been hope. Indeed, it was so terrible that many of them had forgotten what it was like to be hopeful at all, and they were brought to their last resort.

Since Dumbledore had died, everything had fallen apart. There was no one to confirm their actions; they had depended on the old man too greatly. Harry, though powerful, was but a boy, and was still in training. Moody stood up, advancing toward Ginny, who stood nervously in the center of the circle, timid and afraid. Her mother was in another room, crying her heart out, her wails audible, carrying over the walls.

Apprehension rose and bordered something akin to terror. Fidgeting slightly, Ginny watched Moody approach with wide eyes. She was unsuspecting of what he was to ask of her, but she was not naïve, either. She was well aware of their current situation and what was to become their doom should they fail. And, with that fiery Weasley spirit, she was afraid and unwilling to give in.

"The time has come, Ginny Weasley," he said darkly, his voice laced with weariness. "We did not wish to do this to you, for your youth is still strong—but we have no other choice.” His eyes were grave and Ginny suspected a hint of pardon, as though he were upset with this last resort. “You have experienced a terrible encounter with Lord Voldemort previously and survived. You have proven yourself powerful enough to withstand his unfathomable rays of death. You know more than any one of us, you have experienced more than the rest of us." Ginny started to speak, but he interrupted her. "It would be too risky to send Harry out. We must send you back in time to stop Lord Voldemort from ever rising."

The sudden request stunned Ginny to no end. Of all things she had suspected, this was the last; to meet Voldemort, alone, unguarded. The mere idea was enough to send shivers of fear down her spine, but she knew what it meant: they could not send Harry, should the mission fail and the world fall into ruins. Should she be sent and fail, there would still be a chance. She remembered enough from her first year’s encounter with the Dark Lord to last more than five lifetimes. She struggled in vain to search for words, but her throat constricted and her voice was strangled.

Moody sensed this feeling of terror and cast a pitying look upon her. "We are reluctant, we are grave. But that fool of a Ministry cannot do anything but cause more trouble, and we are bordering that same fate." Pausing for a moment, he then continued, “The whole of the Order wishes more than what the best of luck can give.”

Moody was not a fool; he was well aware of what fate he was condemning upon the youngest of the Order members. She was not Harry Potter, the one fated to kill Lord Voldemort. She was Ginny, the bright young witch who still hadn’t lived the most of life. Granted, the days had come when the majority of the children would be neglected, and the weight was shifted onto Ginny’s shoulders to cure. Slowly and slightly reluctantly, he held out a necklace with a small, hollow glass tube for a charm. He took Ginny's finger and pricked it, allowing a single drop of blood to fall to the bottom, retrieving a small gasp of surprise and tingling pain from the younger child. "Should anyone but you use it, it would not work for them. We will be expecting a weekly update from you. Record all that has happened, all that you have seen, and put it in this tube. We will receive it in our own." He gestured toward a similar necklace that hung on the wall. "There is not much we can do. If you should lose it, we will try to get you a new one."

Ginny’s eyes flickered between her own charm and the one pinned against the blank wall. "How will you know if I have lost it or not?" she asked meekly.

"We can tell," was all he said. Turning around, he continued, "If you have any questions when you get there, ask them through this necklace. We will be here to help you, around the clock and every hour, every minute of night and day.” He turned back toward her. “Your charm should glow blue with warmth when a response is made and sent. It should be that only you can see the light.”

He left out the part of the whole of the Wizarding world depending on her. It wouldn’t help the stress, the fear, and the agonizing situation. And she already knew.

The idea was still so surreal and fresh in the young witch’s mind so that she could not comprehend it entirely, not honestly believing the whole ordeal to be true. She felt like a stranger watching the ordeal unfold as it does in a Muggle movie, distant and having nothing in relation.

Moody sighed. “I will give you half a week’s time to prepare for this lasting journey; I understand that this has been thrown at you, but one week is far too long and information may leak and the trip may be ruined.” He glanced around the room wearily.

“I—I don’t understand entirely,” Ginny suddenly said, her voice raspy. “How am I supposed to do this? Am I to attend Hogwarts, or—” Frenzy had finally overcome as the situation settled into her brain. Fear was the first instinct. Then came come the whirlwinds of agitation as she rattled on about all that she was supposed to do, what could go wrong—the masses of bewilderment.

Moody shook his head, interrupting her. “We have it all planned out, Miss Weasley,” he said, switching back to Ginny’s surname in an official manner. “Truth be told, we have been expecting this for a while.” A flicker of emotion crossed Ginny’s eyes as tears threatened to fall. “I am sorry, Ginny,” he said, his voice soft – something that was altogether rare, coming from the ex-Auror. “We have no choice in the matter.”

And that tear tore free, splashing upon the cold floor, a part of the world that offered no forgiveness or repent.

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I originally planned that the part where Moody explains her mission would be the prologue, and the rest of the story would be in first person, as according to the explanations recieved through the charm. What do you think?

It would be more diary-like.

But I guessed it would be more closed and Ginny would be hesitant to share future feelings, so I decided against it.

There will be loads of jealousy in this story! Woot!! (I love jealousy stories. XD)

Sorry about the length. I'll try and get a good size next time, or update regularly. Unlike my other stories. XD

Gee, I really like smilie faces. XD

Okay, ermmm...

Once again, please review! Thank you!