“I don’t understand.” Ginny said as she paced near a dusty chalkboard.

“It’s—” Harry stammered. He should’ve taken more time to properly explain why he needed her help, rather than solely asking for it. It wasn’t easy to talk about or around Tom Riddle though, especially not with someone who suffered by his hand as Ginny had. “It’s complicated, but I just need to know what he-erm, what he said to you, or-or how he acted? I know it’s him, I just have to check.”

“What does that mean? If you have something of his and are sure of it, then why bother asking me?” Ginny asked with a confused look.

“To double check.” Hermione answered as she dropped her book bag next to a crooked desk. She stepped through bright blocks of sunlight before she flicked her wand at the door and windows, creating a faint humming sound as her muffling charm came into effect.

Harry was beginning to think of this shabby, unused classroom as theirs given how much time they’d recently spent in it.

Ron sniffed. “Because Ruffles isn’t willing—”

Harry twisted and opened his mouth to begin explaining Snape’s nickname in case she didn’t already know, but a red flush flooded Ginny’s face and she began to speak quickly.

“And you think I am?!” She said in a strained voice as she rounded on Ron and Hermione. “You two don’t know what he was like! You don’t understand! If you have something of his, he’s not going to let you just check—”

“But that’s why we have to check!” Ron begged.

Harry nodded. “Because if he was anything like who I dealt with last night—”

“Did you find another diary?!” Ginny asked. The colour drained from her face and a stark, almost petrified look washed over her. “Give it to Ruffles or throw it away!”

“We haven’t found anything,” Harry held his hands out in an attempt to slow them all down. “No diaries, or any of his other things either.”

Ginny inhaled heavily and tucked her arms around her ribs. “Please explain what’s going on then.” She said firmly.

“It’s not exactly easy.” Harry said. “We don’t know anything.”

“You three always know more than you let on.” Ginny said darkly before looking at Harry. “I know Tom’s back, but I’m worried for you. Does Ruffles know?”

“Ginny—” Ron began exhaustedly.

“No,” Ginny said as she twisted to stare at Ron. “I’m not asking for you three to give me your life stories, but I’d like a bit of honesty about what’s going on for once. You wandered over the Common Room all last night and were acting as if you expected someone to die.” She said before turning toward Harry. “You weren’t with them either and I honestly thought it might be you.”

Harry wondered if Ron and Ginny often argued about Voldemort, as he couldn’t remember having seen them fight about him before. They’d fought about hundreds of other things of course, but those were average arguments, like who flew which broomstick or who’s turn it was to write their Great Aunt Muriel.

“We’re always honest.” Hermione said in a similarly exhausted tone. “Or we try to be.”

Harry scratched his previous concern and now began to worry about how much arguing the three of them had done at Grimmauld Place. He’d apparently missed a conversation over the summer. He couldn’t remember Ginny having been this upset with them over anything while they’d been there. At least not openly.

“You’re honest to a fault.” Ginny said. “You’re honest about what you need, but never why you need it. And I want to help you, I always do, but none of you make it easy.”

“But you’ll help us?” Harry asked.

“If you agree to be a bit more open about what’s going on, yes. Or, I’ll try to.” Ginny nodded. “Though I don’t love the thought of going into intimate detail about Tom.”

Harry felt his shoulders slump downwards, but he tried to keep his hopes high. He didn’t want to push Ginny, seeing as he knew how frightening and humiliated being targeted by Tom felt. She’d talked about her experiences within the Chamber with Ron’s parents, which Harry felt was already a lot to ask of anyone, given how he felt about the graveyard. He just needed to know how Tom behaved in the diary though, and from there they could work out if the two Tom’s they’d dealt with were actually Voldemort or not.

“That’s not really helping.” Ron said softly. “It is, I mean, don’t get me wrong—”

“You have no room to complain about how helpful someone is!” Ginny snapped.

“What!?” Ron’s voice squeaked from him.

“It’s true.” Ginny shook her head ‘no’ as her lips pressed into a thin line. “You’ve specifically told me not to worry and talk about how things are all under control, and then a week goes by and we hear about how you ran off with Snuffles, or had a deathmatch in a chess game!”

“Those were separate occasions!” Ron snapped. “And I never ran off with Snuffles, he broke my leg and dragged me away!”

“I think—” Hermione’s voice was swallowed by the volume of Ron and Ginny’s argument.

Harry looked at her and worried briefly if either of them should break Ron and Ginny up.

Hermione seemed as lost as Harry, though rather than looking nervously over the two of them as Harry was doing, she fell into a cracked wooden chair and dropped her chin into her palms.

Harry scratched his hands over his wrists and worried about how long their argument would take.

An uncomfortable urge to blurt out anything at all about their most recent issues rushed through him, but he couldn’t imagine that helping. He didn’t fancy explaining much either. He’d already explained everything to Sirius and Lupin, and that’d been awful enough.

Watching Ron and Ginny threw his worries into a spiral though, and he found himself unconsciously sorting through the most recent events in search of the least harmful truth he could find.

He debated explaining how his aging issue was back, but he struck that from the list quickly. It opened too many new concerns.

Elaborating on Umbridge’s gagging curse could help endear them to Ginny, but Harry couldn’t explain anything without babbling, and Lupin had warned him before about how babbling can be more dangerous than it looked. She knew about what had happened in his first class anyway.

Bringing up Umbridge could be quite helpful though, given how much everyone hated her.

He wondered what Ms Eileen would say, and if she’d offer any information to Ginny. She’d probably know precisely what to say and how to say it without coming across as if she were begging for help.

Harry idly considered bringing up Ms Eileen and Snape, if that would help. Maybe he could share the small bright spot of memories they’d made in August.

A fierce possessiveness slipped around him and kept a selfish hold on them though.

They were Harry’s. They weren’t for anyone else.

He had so few memories of happy moments from when he’d been actually six. Each and every one of them were stained with the Dursley’s bitter indifference and disregard for him. Harry couldn’t bear to part with the happy moments he’d found over this past summer.

Logically, he knew sharing memories didn’t tarnish them. Snape and Sirius shared stories about his parents, and Harry didn’t feel as if the memories were changed at all by their passage to him. He cared for them as gently as he could. Ron and Hermione knew how important the stories about Harry’s parents were to him, and they were as careful and kind about them as they could be as well, given that stories were immaterial.

In the back of his mind, Harry could imagine them treating his memories from summer with the same care. Ginny would likely be the same.

These thoughts didn’t settle the anger still simmering in his chest though.

“That’s my point, Ron!” Ginny said in a significantly quieter voice than before. “You three always wind up in danger!”

Harry blinked up and looked toward Hermione. She had her fingers pressed against her eyelids and seemed to be fighting off a headache.

Ron flung his arms high in the air. “It’s a war, Ginny. We’re all in danger.”

Harry tried to remember if he’d chosen a truth to tell Ginny, but instead, blurted out the first honest, but tame fact he could think of. “Umbridge is here to stop a student army from forming. Ruffles told me.”

“What?” Ginny asked as she paused and the stark anger on her face drifted into a blank look.

“She believes Dumbledore is building an army, and she’ll be the one to stop it.” Harry said. “Or, Fudge believes that?”

Hermione sat up and looked confusedly between Harry and Ron.

“Umbridge believes Dumbledore is raising a student army, or, I guess, Fudge is worried about Dumbledore overtaking the Ministry with a student army.” Harry said. He remembered sitting on Snape’s couch and worrying about being sent away after hearing Nagini. Snape had been positive Harry would remain at school, given Umbridge’s fear of Dumbledore training him, and so far, he’d been correct.

“That’s a joke.” Ron said. “It can’t be real.”

“Umbridge pulled me into her office last night because of that mess with Malfoy. She believes Dumbledore’s training me in dark magic.” Harry said as he crossed his arms.

“Sure, yeah.” Ron said in an ironic voice. “A load of underage students against aurors and unspeakables.” He sniffed and rubbed his hand beneath his nose. “That’d work.”

“It could happen.” Ginny said with an oddly fierce look.

“Come off it Ginny,” Ron smiled. “Imagine Colin Creevey up against someone like Moody—”

“You’re thinking of him as he is currently.” Ginny said. “He’s clever and capable. If he had the time, and if we had a professor who actually taught Defense rather than had us read from a book, he could be—”

“Gin, he barely comes up to my elbow—”

“You think size matters?” Ginny asked with a sharp look. Her arms loosened around her ribs and she gestured toward Harry. “Harry was child-sized when he knocked out Avery over the summer.”

Harry swallowed heavily and shook his head ‘no’. “I just surprised him.” He said weakly.

Ron stepped backwards and began stuttering out an argument about why Avery alone was different from the entire Ministry.

A bright urge flickered across Hermione’s face and she stood abruptly, silencing Ron. “Professor Lupin said Ruffles should prepare to teach us, but you said they wouldn’t openly go against Umbridge,” She said, pointing to Harry. “They told us not to push her either, but if we—this, this wouldn’t be pushing her.”

“What wouldn’t be pushing her?” Ron asked.

“A group! It wouldn’t even be against the rules!” Hermione said excitedly. “In exchange, of course.” She added with a polite nod to Ginny.

“Exchange for what?” Harry asked. “What will we be doing?”

“She argued with McGonagall last Friday, we know she has no intentions to actually teach us!” Hermione said.

Ginny cocked her head to the right and a confused look crinkled over her forehead. “Start at the beginning, Hermione. You’ve gone too far ahead.”

“It won’t be pushing because it’s just a study group!” Hermione said with wide eyes. “They’re all over Hogwarts already. We can compile a list of questions and spells we’re struggling with and share it with Ruffles. In exchange, Ginny can help us with Tom.”

“A study group.” Ron said dully. “That’s your big plan. How did you get ‘form a study group’ from the Ministry wetting themselves over a student army?”

Hermione wrinkled her nose. “I thought of a study group after Ginny mentioned Colin, not from the discussion about the Ministry, though I won’t deny that forming a group makes me feel a bit more like I’m actually doing something.” She tapped her shoe against one of the old desks. “I’ve already been helping Neville and Dean on the side, adding Colin would make it into a group. It would be quite helpful to have a place to actually practice. I would have to rearrange my own study schedule of course,” Hermione said as she spun on her heel and seemed to mentally organize her calendar. “But we’ll have Ruffles, and Harry can help quite a bit by encouraging them to help! And that’s a bit of honesty for Ginny, a whole plan.” She smiled widely and nodded.

Ginny’s eyes softened before meeting Harry’s. “I don’t need to be paid to help you with Tom.” She said. “I just want you three to be safe and to share what was going on for once. I want to help. That’s what I meant by honesty.”

“You’d be surprised Ginny,” Ron said with a nod. “We’ve had a lot more help this term than any other.”

“We’ve gone to Ruffles with a few things already.” Hermione said after turning back around. “Harry, maybe you should talk with Ginny alone while Ron and I find Neville?”

“What?” Ron asked as he looked between the three of them. “Now?”

“Yes, now,” Hermione said shortly. “Breakfast is only halfway over and we have time. As curious as I am about Tom, I don’t think all of us being present is going to make for the calmest experience.” She added with a subtle not toward Ron.

Harry wondered if she worried about how concerned Ron would become for Ginny during their conversation. Why would he agree to help Harry only to change his mind halfway through?

Ron huffed and glanced concerningly at Harry and Ginny both before trailing slowly after Hermione.

They slipped out the door before Harry could say another word. He was no longer sure if he should bother Ginny about Tom, given how little he liked to delve into his own experiences with him. Snape said Ms Eileen would be able to help them with guessing how true the memories Harry saw were, and Harry found himself warming more to that plan than his own.

Had Ms Eileen actually known Tom though? Had she spoken with him and as much as Ginny had, or had she only watched him from the afar?

“So, Umbridge pulled you into her office yesterday?” Ginny asked curiously.

Harry nodded. “She’s been, erm, horrible.”

He silently promised himself not to badger or drag any answers from her, even if he was desperate.

“She’s dreadful.” Ginny said as she waved her wand over the floor and cleared away what little dust and dirt had gathered there. “I can see why she’d be here to stop a student army though, no matter how hilarious Ron found it.” She added in a thoughtful voice. “We’re just as capable as them, but easily overlooked. Ministry officials wouldn’t think twice about seeing a group of us at the Ministry, especially if we claimed to be there for a tour or something equally routine. It’s more insidious that she’s actively removing our choice and ability to defend ourselves from our own Ministry.”

Harry nodded.

He was idly reminded of the way Uncle Vernon used to overwhelm Harry after finding out he’d cast accidental magic.

A large hand flew over Harry’s head, forcing Harry to duck to avoid being smacked.

He forced a nervous shiver away after knocking into the wall behind him and fearfully searched for an escape route. Uncle Vernon crowded around him though, leaving him frozen in place.

Aunt Petunia clicked her tongue and muttered about the note Harry’s teacher sent home.

Uncle Vernon clipped Harry’s ear with another forceful swing before snagging his hair in a tight grip. ‘What did I say about funny business?’

‘I didn’t—’

‘You did!’

Harry nervously skirted around his uncle for years for fear of being trapped and shouted at.

Uncle Vernon knew he’d cast magic, but kept every ounce of information around it secret, so Harry had no means to defend himself with it or explain how it happened. Maybe he wanted Harry to be terrified of magic and therefore choose to lead a muggle life when he found out about its existence, like Aunt Petunia wanted for Lily?

Overwhelming Harry only made him more fearful of Uncle Vernon though, rather than magic itself. Umbridge was making the same mistake, though perhaps in a different way.

She denied Hogwarts an education, and left students defenseless and unable to argue against her. Harry felt it only made students angier and more interested in finding sneakier ways to attain practical defense experience.

“Harry?”

“Erm, Umbridge—” Harry started before swallowing heavily. He couldn’t easily explain what happened without bringing up Umbridge and her ruler, and he knew now that Ginny would need at least a few of the details, given what she’d said about honesty. “She—she might try to hit you with a ruler, if you get detention with her.”

Ginny jerked and her eyes widened as sat on the floor before gesturing for him to sit. “What?”

“She tried with me.” Harry said, swallowing the small lie down.

“That’s awful, Harry, I’m so sorry.” She said as Harry settled slowly across from her.

Harry nodded. “But, see, she brought up these strange memories with it.”

Confusion flickered over Ginny’s face before her eyes swung low and slipped across Harry’s knuckles. “Strange how?” She asked after meeting Harry’s eyes once more.

Harry resisted the urge to rub his thumb over his knuckles. He silently thanked Snape for having healed them as best he could instead.

“I’ve never been hit by a ruler before, but I have memories from someone who had.” Harry said slowly. He paused and waited to see if the tight band of pressure he’d felt last night would appear. “Ruffles thought I’d just repressed it.”

Ginny nodded.

“But I don’t think I repressed anything. I really have never been hit with a ruler, but I knew it’d happened before to someone else, loads of times in fact. At the orphanage.” Harry said cautiously. He couldn’t be sure if talking about Tom would make him appear. “Did Tom ever mention anything like that?”

“He was far more interested in me.” Ginny said as she slumped forward. She wrapped her arms around her knees and dropped her chin on top of them. “He asked about you quite a bit and was endlessly curious about how You-Know-Who died. He didn’t believe me when I said he actually had.”

“Did he ever bring up the Blitz?” Harry asked. “Or how he asked to stay at Hogwarts even if it were closed?”

“He mentioned Hogwarts nearly closing once.” Ginny nodded and picked at a loose thread on her jeans. “It’d been when I panicked about the school closing. He was excellent at calming me down. I would stop worrying for brief moments, because Tom could predict what would happen in the near future and tell me how I should behave about it. I thought he was a genius, but I know now that he’d been possessing me and forcing those events to occur.”

“He never let on about being, erm, psychotic?” Harry asked as he thought of how Tom felt about those who’d died during the blitz. He cringed inwardly at his own stupid question and was about to apologize, but Ginny beat him to it.

She gave him a dull look before bitterly laughing. “I was eleven, he knew better. He was careful to always be kind in his notes.”

“He only ever wrote to you?” Harry asked. The Tom who Harry had spoken with far preferred sharing memories to writing about them, though it was difficult to be sure, given how few notes they’d actually written to one another.

“There wasn’t much else he could do.” Ginny said with a shrug.

“He never showed you a memory though, never let you, erm, see him, or feel how he felt?” Harry asked.

Ginny blinked concerningly at him and shook her head ‘no’. “I think I’d have been far more worried if he had. Dad warned us loads of times about magical items offering to share anything with us. I think the only reason I trusted Tom was because he made it seem as if he only wanted to write to me and chat because he was lonely. I was just stupid and I bought every word.”

An uncomfortable worry bubbled up Harry’s throat. Snape had probably been right not to speak with the Tom in Harry’s head. Harry had wanted him to interact with Tom because of how pleased Tom had been after Snape justified his anger.

Maybe Harry had pushed Snape to interact because Tom wanted Snape?

Snape hadn’t interacted because he’d known better, despite how much Harry’d cried, shouted and begged for him to help. He shuddered at his own actions and wished he’d been more aware of what had been going on before he’d run away.

He needed to apologize. He needed to apologize and to be aware if it happened again.

Ginny brushed at a stray tear and mumbled an apology.

“Ginny—”

“It’s fine, Harry.” Ginny said in a quiet voice. “I know better now.”

Harry knew now just how out of his depth he was when it came to handling Voldemort’s manipulation. He despised himself for having dredged Ginny’s horrible experience to the surface, and desperately searched for a way to help her feel less awful.

“When I wrote in it, he showed me a memory.” Harry said softly.

Ginny looked up and the flush drained from her face, leaving her worryingly pale.

“I didn’t know better.” Harry whispered. “He must’ve known I’d fall for it.” He’d fallen for it more than once, given last night.

“Dad told me that every word I wrote let him in.” Ginny began carefully. “That he was able to take control because I’d shared my life with him.” She gave a hollow laugh. “And I don’t mean this rudely, please believe me Harry, but given how rarely you let people in, I doubt he was able to gain any control of you.”

Harry almost wished he’d kept his mouth shut. He was glad to be aware of how dangerous his pushing Snape to interact with Tom was, but he was no longer sure how to handle the voice in his head.

The silent room sank around them, and he found himself wishing Ron or Hermione had stayed. They’d likely have made this process longer, and asked far more questions, potentially forcing Ginny to leave, but maybe they’d have made it more comfortable as well. They made Harry more comfortable.

Harry snuck a hand around his mum’s pendant and breathed a bit easier after it warmed beneath his touch.

“What did you find, by the way?” Ginny asked quietly.

Harry blinked and sat straighter.

“Of Tom’s, I mean.” Ginny said. “I know you said you hadn’t found anything, but you must’ve found something, if you saw his memories.”

“Oh.” Harry said weakly. “Nothing.”

Ginny sighed and turned her head to rest on her knees as she stared at dust floating idly through a sun beam.


——



Hedwig chirped as Harry hid, curled up next to her. He scratched out a quick note to Sirius, but found himself at a loss for what to write when it came to Ms Eileen. Snape said she’d been frustrated about how quiet her house was now, but that didn’t help Harry with guessing about what to write.

Maybe she wanted Harry to discuss his melt down, and how he felt about Snape’s refusal to interact with Tom. Perhaps she wanted to impress upon him the importance of ignoring voices that begged to share memories with you.

Harry huffed.

A letter like that falling into the wrong hands could be deadly. He wanted to know what she and Snape talked about while he’d hidden Snape’s bedroom, as well as what reasons Snape had given her for Harry’s episode.

Perhaps she’d asked about why Harry saw Tom’s memories, and upon hearing about Umbridge’s actions, expected for Snape to intervene and for the school to close just as Ron had this morning? Maybe she’d have been able to explain the glass on the floor and the fight Snape seemed to have gotten into before Harry arrived through the floo as well.

The last time Harry saw broken glass around Snape was when Harry brought up Lily.

A large owl hooted loudly next to Harry and fluttered down to the lower landing as he began to painstakingly scribble his questions.

‘M. E,

‘How are you? How’s your knitting going?

‘I miss you and wish you were here we were with you. Gobstones would be grand right now rather than. I think I worried scared bothered S a lot last night. Were they angry with me? What did they say to you? They said you talked about what happened, what did they say? Did they bring up any arguments with anyone besides me? I wish I’d known not to talk with I wish I were more knowledgeable about what to do in those situations, I won’t let it happen again. Thank you for sending my the stuffed dog, I was very happy to see it.’

Thinking of Ms Eileen reminded Harry once more of Dumbledore, and he added another question to his letter as he tried to push away his simmering anger.

‘Has D visited spoken with you about the house? Have you heard from them at all?’

She’d always been honest in the past. The only way he felt she’d avoid directly answering him was if she felt the post wasn’t safe. He hoped she didn’t need to move now that Dumbledore knew where she lived.

The unofficial Gobstones runner up of 1995

“But what did he say, Draco?” Pansy Parkinson’s voice echoed nervously from below.

Harry froze and looked up from his letter. He cautiously searched over the Owlery for Malfoy’s eagle owl and let out a sigh after spotting it on the lower landing.

“Father wasn’t very inclined to say anything,” Malfoy said before giving a frustrated sigh. “He was upset of course, but more so about the insult than the injury.”

“The insult?” Parkinson asked. “You were in so much pain that you couldn’t walk without wanting to pull your own legs off and he cares about the—”

“He’s angry because of what it meant when he attended Hogwarts.” Malfoy said, cutting Parkinson off. He mumbled something beneath his breath, and Harry strained his ears to hear what he said. “Mother tried to remind him of how few people remember our old customs. Apparently, it was a popular curse at Hogwarts until Dumbledore became Headmaster. Aunt Bella said they used to sort out mudbloods with it.”

Harry dropped his head onto his knees and tried to ignore the sick feeling clawing up his throat.

He wasn’t sure how long the curse had been popular for, before Dumbledore took office, but knowing that it’d been used to target muggle-borns left a foul taste in his mouth. He still didn’t feel as if Dumbledore had any right to search his mind, and he doubted he’d ever feel differently, but a small piece of him could see why Dumbledore had been worried about Harry having cast something with such a dubious history.

Maybe it was a favourite of Tom’s?

“This is exactly what I’ve been talking about. We aren’t learning about important pieces of our own culture.” Parkinson hissed. Her soft footsteps echoed from below as she passed beneath Harry’s hiding spot.

Harry tucked tighter into his hiding spot.

An oddly familiar floral smell wafted toward upwards and Harry thought of Aunt Petunia’s garden as he unconsciously searched for which flower it belonged to.

“I don’t have a problem with mudbloods existing,” Parkinson said. “But when we have to pander and sacrifice our traditions for their comfort—”

“We’re getting our traditions back.” Malfoy whispered back as he cut her off once more. “Soon Hogwarts will be just as it was when You-Know-Who attended.”

Parkinson huffed.

Rows of bright carnations bloomed in his imagination as he realized which flower she smelled like. The long hallway Harry dreamt of drifted into the forefront of thoughts and he tried to guess why the carnations would be present there, before the two began to whisper again.

“How are you going to get Potter back?” Parkinson asked. “We’re not just letting it go, are we?”

Malfoy made a bitter sound. “I think I’ll cast the same curse back at him.”

“How are we going to learn the curse, did your father send a book?” Parkinson whispered conspiratorially. “Maybe we’ll get his wand from him first, just to avoid you being cursed again?”

Malfoy’s eagle owl abruptly soared upwards past Harry’s hiding spot in a burst of feathers before disappearing out of a particularly dirty window. It sped off on the bright horizon and became a dot in the sky moments later.

“I heard he’s taking Remedial Potions, maybe we’ll catch him in the dungeons?” Malfoy said as his boots echoed from below. Harry found himself wondering if his boots stank of the same cleaning product his father used. “I’ll meet you in Charms, I have a meeting with Umbridge.”

Harry’s heart plummeted into his stomach and he forced himself to stay still and wait to hear if Malfoy would explain what he’d talk about with Umbridge.

He wondered if Ron or Hermione still had extendable ears on hand.

Parkinson hummed a compassionate sound. “Charm your eyes so they won’t burn at the sight of that hideous cardigan.”

Their voices drifted away and Harry waited in his cramped hiding spot for half a moment longer before jolting upwards. Despite how badly he wanted to apologize to Snape for having tried to guilt him into talking with Tom, he didn’t think Snape would appreciate Harry turning up in the dungeons unannounced. He’d need to wait until either Snape found him before his Defense lesson, or they met for their usual meeting time after their Potions lesson to apologize.

He needed to talk with Ron and Hermione, and see what was happening with their study group as well.

Hedwig gave a soft hoot and Harry turned toward her before spotting the letter he’d written to Sirius lying next to her left foot.

He looked over the wrecked letter he’d written to Ms Eileen and pushed himself to rewrite it on another scrap of parchment, this time with far fewer scratched out words.

An uncomfortable nervousness crept across his shoulders at sending the letter, as he was unsure what Ms Eileen might say in her response and he was concerned about having asked so many questions, but he handed the two letters to Hedwig and whispered their destinations in spite of it.