Roleplaying Session
Players: Madelyn Knight (Tom) and Amethyst (Ginny)
Audience: Mature
Ship: Tom/Ginny
Disclaimer: JK owns the Harry Potter property, WB leases it. No money is made from the production or distribution of this work. This is in no way acknowledged, affiliated, or endorsed by the copyright holder(s). Used in accordance with Fair Use.

She opened the diary, hands shaking slightly. For some reason, she was worried about writing in it. Something about the little book made her feel nervous. Perhaps it was the name on the back, or the year, or just knowing it wasn't her own. Then again, there was no way she couldn't write in it, though she didn't know the reason for this either. Still staring at the blank page before her, she reached for her quill. She felt the tip scratch her finger and recoiled, a drop of blood falling from a fresh cut onto the page, soaking away, leaving the parchment clean again.

Painful thirst, if there could be such a thing in this state, engulfed him as it had for so many days before. And then- life! Like cool spring water to a parched beast in the desert, it slipped over and within, granting reprieve from a barren existence. So much of it... but not nearly enough. And yet, it was enough. Slipping out of the parchment prison that had held and bound him for so long, little more than a faded form of mist served as his body. But there was a voice, slipping within this young girl's mind, "Hello, Ginny."

She let out an audible gasp as a voice spoke in her head. It was quite a voice at that. Dark, and...seductive. It wasn't quite something an eleven-year-old was prepared to deal with, at that. Staring firmly at the diary -- for she had a feeling that the voice was coming from it, even though it was in her mind -- she thought back, "Who are you? And why are you in my head?"

A soft chuckle came from within him, "I am the owner of the diary, and you have called me." The mist that served as his new body slowly enveloped this young girl, carefully looking within her mind, "You must have been very lonely to be able to call me forth. Far be it from me to deny you companionship. Tom Marvolo Riddle, at your service." The mist pooled about the desk, wrapping around her hands, "Such a lovely young lady, I can't imagine why you should be lonely..."

She shuddered slightly, unable to become accustomed to having a voice other than her own inside her head. "Called you? What do you mean?" she questioned. The voice -- or Tom -- was getting to her. Though she knew well enough to be wary of it -- or him, it was alluring, and nearly irresistible.

He smiled, as much as possible given current circumstances, "You sated my thirst and gave me new life. If not for you, I would still be trapped within bone dry parchment." The mist pooled at her feet, "It is a shame I will not be here for long, but one drop of blood is not much to live on, after all." He moved upward, lightly caressing the side of her face, "Such a shame... I would have liked to know you..."

She stared at the figure emerging before her, entranced despite herself. He resembled Harry, in some ways, and this seemed to make him more trustworthy. He was also very, very flattering, and flattery was something she had lacked, having six brothers that were generally antagonistic. "You-you're trapped in the diary?" she queried out loud, eyes wide. "How? Why?"

"I am a memory of someone who once was. Under the right circumstances, I could live again..." he stated while sliding back to the book. "But, you needn't burden yourself with my troubles. I must go soon, I am sorry I could not stay longer." He hovered above the diary, waiting to see if she would show interest in willingly helping him. "It has been a pleasure meeting you, Miss Ginny Weasley, but our time together grows short."

Ginny fidgeted. Should she help him? He might have been forced into the diary. It seemed only proper to help him get out. And he was so kind to could he be harmful? Shyly, she asked, "Is there anything I can do? To help you out of the diary?"

He sighed and settled upon the pages, "I'm afraid the only thing that can tear me away from this parchment prison is blood from a wizard or witch. The more powerful the person that provides it, the more potent its effects on my prison. But such a morbid task I could not place upon you. I will simply be grateful for the taste of freedom you have given me. I shall not forget your kindness, Miss Ginny Weasley." A bit of the mist stretched over her hand, as though kissing it.

She stared anxiously at the mist. If she did nothing, it meant she would lose Tom, the first person to be kind to her that didn't do it out of obligation. On the other hand, getting blood would mean... No, she couldn't possibly. Could she? A powerful wizard. Ginny could guess just who would work best. But there was no way she could use Harry's blood for such a purpose. ...She could offer her own, however. "How much would you need?" she asked hastily, fearing that Tom would disappear before he could answer.

The mist wrapped around her hand, "I am afraid it is much more than one person could give, without risking death. As I said, it would be a morbid task, to collect the blood needed to make me whole once more. To breathe again... to feel the sun upon my skin... that would be paradise!" The mist moved tighter around her hand, as though trying desperately to hold it, "To be able to thank you and look into your eyes... that would be heaven." The mist retreated back along the pages, "But... I suppose it is not to be. Still, at least I have my dreams to comfort me through the stretch of eternity that waits within that cursed book. It will have to be enough."

Her heart constricted, eyes burning with tears. There had to be something she could do for this poor person. Trapped for eternity! It couldn't be right. "Isn't there any other way?" she asked desperately, reaching toward the mist as if that would keep it there a little while longer.

He curled around her fingertips, "I wish there were. If only someone could collect the blood needed, not all from one person of course, but from a number of powerful wizards and witches. Then I could be free of this curse. But, I could not ask such a thing of anyone." He retreated fully into the book, whispering into her mind, "I wish I could stay, but our time together has drawn to a close. I will always remember you..."

From a number of powerful witches and wizards. Perhaps she could do it after all. She had heard of curses. There was one you could put on a book, she thought, that would give anyone but the owner paper-cuts if he or she touched it. There were also pricking curses... Yes, maybe she could do it after all. It would be wonderful, to free Tom, to know him and speak with him... "I'll try, Tom - I want to let you out...I... Is there any way I can talk to you, while I'm collecting the blood?"

Writing appeared on the pages, "Yes. Anytime you write within this book, I shall answer. But in order to become something other than script on parchment, I will need blood." The lines faded and were replaced with new ones, "I can not thank you enough, Miss Ginny. You truly are a kind and generous soul."

(Six weeks later) With her final vial of blood in hand, she went into her dormitory. No one else was around this time of day. She went to her trunk and pulled out a jar full of blood, at least a third of it from Harry, as was the blood she held in her tiny glass vial. It had taken quite awhile to collect his blood. Each cut, scrape, and prick had to seem completely innocent. It had been hard work, but she was sure that with so much of Harry's blood, it would be enough for Tom. She had also managed to collect some from Hermione, Ron, McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout, Snape, and even Dumbledore. Yes, their blood should be enough. Carefully, she took out the diary and opened it to the middle, and poured her vial out into it, anticipating Tom's return.

It was the most excruciating and incredible experience he had ever undergone. As the water of their lives flowed over the pages, he could feel himself being reborn within flesh. Some of the blood had an overwhelming power, and there were moments that only his sheer will kept the new form from ripping at the seems or burning to a pile of ash. Finally, in one last burst of light and lash of power, his body was reborn. Slowly Tom stood before her, clad in the same immaculate Slytherin robes that he had worn the day the diary's spell had been placed. Taking a tentative step forward, he spoke, "Miss Ginny... is that you?"

She gaped. So this was Tom. Well, it wasn't what she had expected. He did look a lot like Harry, except with eyes of slate rather than emerald. And unlike Harry, he noticed her, and appreciated her. "Yes, it's me," she replied somewhat shakily, quite amazed. Perhaps all her time and work had truly been worth it.

A smile traced his lips as he closed the distance between them and kissed her hand, "Thank you... I don't know how you did it, but thank you." It felt as though an electric current ran along his skin, and Tom realized that the energy came from Harry's blood. Some sort of aggressive protection spell.... well, that would certainly prove useful at some point. He lightly caressed the side of Ginny's face, "You are even lovelier than I had imagined... my angel..." If the expression in her eyes were any indication, such charming words had bound her heart to him. All the better.

She blushed despite herself. He was incredibly charming, and at her young age, she was certainly not used to charming young men. Staring at him like he had two heads, she mumbled, "T-thank you." Beyond that, she had absolutely no idea what to do or how to act. Not even young witches are prepared to deal with young and handsome men coming out of strange diaries.

He took her hand in his, marveling at the new sensations, "If there is any way I can repay you, simply ask." He looked around the room and then back to Ginny, "In the meantime, perhaps you would like to accompany me? There is a secret room I will stay in, until I can ascertain how to... reintegrate into the student population. After all, a sixteen year old Tom Riddle has not attended this school in many decades."

She very nearly gulped when he took her hand, and nodded right away at his request. "Of course. Where is the secret room?" She kept her new questions to herself - questions such as how would he become a member of the school again, and would anyone recognize him. She knew Dumbledore had been there for many years; had he known Tom fifty years ago?

Tom walked through the hallways with her, carefully avoiding any students or staff. Upon entering Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, he quickly went to the sink and whispered, "Open," in Parseltongue. After watching the shaft open, he looked back to Ginny, "You'll need to hold on tightly to me." His arms wrapped around her, "Are you ready?"

Her eyes widened, hearing him hiss to a faucet, but grew even wider as it opened to a tunnel. Trustingly, however, she clutched him tightly, and she nodded. "I'm ready." She didn't think to wonder where they were going, or why he was taking her there.

With a softly whispered spell, he stepped from the lip of the well, and into its depths. Floating through its curves, he finally touched down upon solid ground. Tom walked with her until they came to the main door, emblazoned with a serpent's lock. Saying, "Open," once more in Parseltongue, he guided her into the main chamber. "This... is a secret chamber; you must never tell anyone I let you in here. Do you understand?"

She followed him wordlessly, amazed that Hogwarts held such hidden wonders. He hissed again. What was that language? A secret chamber. Of course she wouldn't tell, and she said so. "I understand. I won't tell. T-tom...what's that language you keep speaking? I've never heard anything like it..."

He smiled, "It's called Parseltongue. That means I can speak the language of snakes. Anyone who has it is called a Parselmouth. I wouldn't advise speaking of it around others; most seem to think it's a sign of a dark wizard. It is actually just a sign that you are related to Salazar Slytherin." Tom shrugged and looked at each of the statues towering above them, "Old superstitions die hard, I suppose. Now to figure out what to do about my return..."

Of course he wasn't a dark wizard. How could he be? And he must be a very powerful person, to speak the language of snakes. She trusted him completely, of course. Silently, she waited as he looked over the statues before them. What were they? It was hard to tell. Ginny supposed Tom would tell her soon enough.

He needed to make connections and allies while waiting for the right time to resurface. With the right contacts, not even Dumbledore would be able to turn him away. "Well, I shall be staying here for a time... but perhaps I can speak with you and your friends by the entrance? I don't mind if you tell one or two of the people you trust about me, it would be nice to have a group of friends again." He lightly brushed his hand against her cheek, "How does that sound to you, Miss Ginny?"