The Woes of Tom Riddle
A/N: My first Tom/Ginny story... be nice.
The cool, crisp autumn air ruffled Ginny Weasley's dead straight red hair, making it strands slide across her face.
She stood there, by the edge of the cliff, dressed in black from head to toe. A few dead leaves brushed her pale skin and a small, lonely tear leaked from her eye.
She took a deep breath and tried to stop crying. She wiped the tear away and headed back to the funeral.
The funeral was just about to commence. A few newcomers looked strangely at Ginny. She knew she looked awful. The last time she was brave enough to look in a mirror her porcelain skin had been almost waxy-looking and as pale as a ghost's. That made the few bruises and cuts on her face stand out alarmingly. She knew how bloodshot her eyes were, and how red they were from lack of sleep and all her crying. Her hair had not been washed in quite a while – it was limp and greasy and fell past her shoulders in straight, dull-red sheets.
She was troubled, anyone could see that. Her eyes were deep green and dangerous, full of secrets and scenes too horrible to imagine. But still she was beautiful, and had grace. She walked straight, head held high, looking as delicate as a water fairy. Her face was hard set, completely blank, never showing the slightest bit of emotion. Ginny Weasley was no longer the cheerful, bright-eyed girl she had been in her Hogwart's years. Ginny had experienced too much pain since then, so much anguish. She had changed.
"Ginny."
Ginny glanced up, meeting the equally troubled eyes of her best friend, Hermione Granger. Hermione nodded to the funeral, which was beginning. Together they walked over to where the priest and the coffin were, sheltered by a large maple tree.
Across from her stood her stood her brother, Ron. Half of him was wrapped in bandages and rightly he should still have been in the hospital. But nothing could keep him away from the funeral of his best friend.
Harry Potter.
The priest started with his speech. About how Harry potter was such a great man – a hero. A hero who spent his last living moments fighting the most feared wizard of all time.
Lord Voldemort.
Ginny stood there, weeping. Somehow, the mention of Harry brought tears to her eyes. This was expected, of course. But she'd learnt to bottle her grief down and never shed a tear, however hard she was crying inside. She hated to cry – it showed weakness and she was strong.
The funeral ended and for the second time in her life she saw Harry's cousin, Dudley, whom she'd never heard much about, save that Harry had hated him.
And at the moment she could understand where that hatred came from. Dudley was mimicking the priest and smirking – smirking – about how lousy Harry was. How he was a half breed loner who was nothing – how dare he – when she got her hands on him –
A rage came over Ginny blinding her for a moment. Furious, she strode over on his back and her wand was out. She was ready to start throwing Unforgiveables at him. Anything that would cause him slow, pain. Death seemed too kind.
"Don't you dare ever speak of Harry that way," she spat, placing her hands on his shoulders and pushing him to the ground. Fear sprang into Dudley's pig eyes and he stayed quivering on the floor – Ginny's wand was pointed right at his neck. And her eyes – like bright lights they were. Bright green lights of anger and hate, directed at him.
"Ginny, what are you doing? Get away, he's just a muggle, he's not worth it!"
It was Hermione's voice, bringing reason to her. Ginny froze, and logic thought came back to her. Finally, she lowered her wand, send Dudley one last scathing look, then walked away.
Things were out of control. Dumbledore had died from an unexplainable occurrence, and now Harry, their last hope was gone. And Voldemort still roamed the land. He was injured; at least, it would be time before he launched his next attack.
But when he did, Ginny doubted they would survive.
Ginny had to do something – she wasn't prepared to let her world crumble so easily. She rang Hermione.
"Come over," she said. "We need to talk."
Hermione apparated over a few minutes later and they seated themselves on the couch.
"I've been thinking," Ginny said. "I know Voldemort has had as many time-turners destroyed as possible but I thought that maybe – well, you might still have yours…"
Hermione slowly nodded. "You want to travel back in time."
Ginny nodded, glad Hermione caught on so quickly. "My plan is to go back to Tom Riddle's time and someone avert things so that he won't turn out to be a dark wizard… maybe so he'll turn out good. Then… no more Lord Voldie."
Hermione cocked her head to one side, thinking. Finally she said; "It's so crazy, it just might work. But it would change lives. Harry wouldn't be famous, his parents wouldn't be dead… Draco Malfoy wouldn't be a Death Eater…"
They both tried to picture that. But couldn't.
"I want to try," Ginny persisted, her eyes wet. she had thought of this idea a long time ago, to use as the last resort. She never thought things would get so bad that she would have to do it. She always assumed the Light would win.
She was learning fast that the Light doesn't always prevail, like in the storybooks she read as a kid.
Hermione apparated back home to find her time-turner and by the time she was back, Ginny was packed and ready.
"But what – why – "
Not only was Hermione carrying the time-turner, she also had a suitcase and bag in her other hand. "Did you really think I'd let you go alone?"
Ginny sighed. "You can't go Hermione, they need you here. Besides, it's too dangerous – "
"If I don't go, then you can't use the time-turner," Hermione teased in a sing-song voice.
"Oh, alright," Ginny relented, but secretly, she was glad someone was coming with her. It took half the weight off her shoulders.
Hermione jotted down a note for Ron to find, and put the chain around both of their necks. She turned it fifty-seven times.
A roaring started in the ears, and they were leapt off their feet and were spinning around and around so fast they hardly noticed. Everything was black around them, then they blacked out.
Ron stepped into the house he shared with his sister, Ginny. He was thinking about her and was worried. Ever since the Dumbledore died and the war truly got violent, she'd changed. He remembered her first battle – Voldemort launched an attack on Hogwarts. They won, but Ron supposed Ginny had been traumatized by the sight of all the dead bodies strewn around the place. As far as he knew, she'd never seen a dead body before. At the moment the meaning of war actually meant something to her.
She'd become even worse when Harry died, which had been very recently. She was a deathly pale, no color was in her cheeks at all. Ron urged to her to do something, made her look in the mirror at herself, but she said it was just the way she was. How she'd always been. Ron, of course, knew better than anyone else how much bullshit that was. He remembered the smiling, happy girl she'd been a few years ago, and he missed her. He strained to think of the last time he'd seen Ginny laugh. She rarely did nowadays.
He was determined to do something.
"Ginny!" he called out, to an empty house. When he heard no answer, fear mounted upon him. He ran through the house, checking every room, when he slipped on the note Hermione wrote.
Ron, it said
Ginny and I have decided that the only way to stop Voldemort is to go back in time to his roots and change Tom Riddle. Voldemort is like a weed - if you cut the top of a weed it will just grow back. You have to kill it at the roots – that's what we're doing here. Do not worry. Much love,
Hermione
Ron cursed and threw the note down.