Harry knew there was just no way he could defeat Voldemort, even if it was a version who was vastly weaker and much more inexperienced than the real thing. Tom Marvolo Riddle, even at sixteen, had a wealth of information that rivalled any expert on the subject of the dark arts, and it was quite possible that he was the foremost authority about them even at such a young and tender age.

The Dark Lord had been a rotten seed from day one, after all, and had been furthering his knowledge and control of his power since before he had conscious thought.

"It's over. Even if the beast is dead, I am at almost the full extent of my abilities. I may not be a match for Dumbledore, but I am young. I will grow in power, I will grow in knowledge. My soul and will are strong, and poor Ginny Weasley's soul is being drained to strengthen them every minute!"

The Boy Who Lived stumbled forward, exhausted beyond belief. Taking out the basilisk had already taken its toll on Harry. When he'd lunged for the Diary to stab it with the Basilisk's fang, Riddle had easily called it into his barely-corporeal hand, and while it had fallen through the apparition's hand, it was still safe from Harry's touch.

Ginny would die. His best mate's friend would die. His first ever friend would forever grieve for the death of a little girl that was never allowed to grow up, a death that Harry could have prevented had he not been such a lazy student. If he'd, like Hermione had suggested, trained and studied hard, if only he had been a little faster and stronger, then he would be able to save Ginny. If he knew some kind of hex or curse that could help in the situation, he could have saved Ginny.

Ginny was family. The Weasley Family was the only people Harry could call as such. Arthur and Molly had been like the parents he'd always wished he had, and Ron was the brother he'd dreamed about, the brother with which he could fight time and again and who would have his back even if they weren't talking to each other. Fred and George were the cool siblings that were all about having the most fun possible at all times, and Percy was the annoying nag of an older brother that always wanted the best for his younger siblings, even if he had to be the 'hated' one to ensure they got it.

He couldn't let them down by letting their, and his, little sister die. He hadn't talked much to Ginny, as she had a tendency to run out of the room when he walked in, and when she did stay long enough to talk, she usually went red easily and barely formed sentences around him. For all of the annoyances it brought sometimes, Harry found it adorable.

Ginny was the little sister that looked up to him like a hero, and Harry had enjoyed the brief moments at The Burrow he had spent teaching her how to fly, at Fred and George's behest (what with him being by far the best flier available to teach her so she could humilliate her yearmates). It made the entire experience of the family more complete.

Soul crushing guilt was something that no boy of Harry's age should experience, but experience it he did, all the same. Riddle's mocking and cruel smirk, as he became less and less blurry, only further added to the problem.

There was only one recourse left. Nothing else mattered to Harry, at that time, than saving Ginny's life.

"Please, let her go!" Harry pleaded, falling to his knees, almost ready to weep and cry for the poor girl whose life was to be snuffed before its time.

"Hah! Grovelling before me, Potter?" asked Riddle, raising an eyebrow. "No matter how much you plead and beg, you miserable failing clod, this girl is instrumental in my resurrection! I did not spend fifty years as a diary to back down from my sweet release just because a little brat begged for the life of my sacrificial lamb!" the future Dark Lord said, glaring contemptuously at the boy who was still on the ground, grovelling.

"Take me instead! Let her go... let her live and I will let you use my body instead!" spoke Harry, hating himself for being weak. He knew what letting Voldemort revive would mean. But he couldn't bring himself what he knew, deep in his heart, needed to be done. He knew that preventing the foulest of Dark Lords from rising from his grave was more important than the life of one girl, but he couldn't bring himself to kill her. It wasn't even a sure thing, he didn't know if killing Ginny would stop the resurrection, and he refused to put the theory to the test.

"And what makes you think I'd want your body?" asked Riddle, though the undercurrent of interest gave Harry a slight hope.

"I'm male, for one," Harry stated, which he thought was obvious. Even if he was above the usual 'boys are better than girls!' nonsense kids at that age displayed, Harry still liked being a boy and thought Riddle would feel more comfortable in a male body. "And... I'm more powerful than Ginny. She's strong, no doubt, but..."

"Of course you are more powerful than her," said Riddle, rolling his eyes. "This girl is barely holding onto an average level for her age, while I can practically see the power brimming underneath your skin, even with my immature mage sight," the former and future Dark Lord spoke, smiling slightly, clearly amused.

"I thought Ginny was stronger than the average," Harry said, slightly confused.

"She's slightly below," corrected Riddle. "She's just much more innately talented than her school mates and thus her spells are better while utilizing less of her power," explained the young man. "I will admit that your proposal... intrigues me. Very well! Your passionate plea for mercy has moved my cold, shrivelled and blackened heart! Why, I could even say it has grown three sizes today!"

Harry didn't even bother just how the hell Riddle could have been aware of The Grinch enough to make that reference. He probably didn't know he had just made a reference to a muggle book.

"I shall take your body instead. No funny business, Potter. The diary is indestructible to anything but Fiendfyre and similarly destructive magic, so it would not avail you to try to destroy it. In order to save this girl, use the sword to cut yourself and smear your blood on the diary's pages. I will give the girl her soul back, and I will take yours in return!"

Grimacing, Harry grabbed Gryffindor's sword, ran the blade through the palm of his hand and then walked up to where Riddle was standing, stopping just short, where the diary lay. Harry's blood coloured the pages red in a short time, and Riddle's cackles could be heard echoing through the chamber...

I'm... honestly wondering whether or not to continue this. I have an idea as to how to go on from here, but it depends on the response to this 'prologue', if you will...

So what do you think? Should I continue on?