A Past Reclaimed by nuw255
Chapter Notes: How’s that for an ominous chapter title? But which Tom am I referring to? Is it Big Tom from St. Brutus’s? Tom Riddle, perhaps? Or maybe it’s just the bartender from The Leaky Cauldron....
The rest of July was a blur for Harry. After Tyler’s run-in with Umbridge, none of the “children,” as Mrs. Weasley still insisted on calling them, had been allowed to leave the Weasleys’ property. This was partly to avoid potential problems with the Ministry of Magic, but it was also meant to help Harry focus on his lessons with Hermione. She was working him so hard that, by the time his birthday came around, he was caught up on all of the theory from his first three years at Hogwarts. Harry suspected that his success had more than a little to do with the weakness of Umbridge’s Memory Charm - after all, he had remembered a decent amount of information about Merlin on his first day at St. Brutus’s, and he hadn’t even really been trying.
He began each day by rolling out of bed hours earlier than he would have liked, and having a quick breakfast with Hermione while everyone else still slept. Then they would sit in the living room, where she would explain magical concepts and spells to him, and he would recite them back to her. By the time lunch rolled around, Harry was only too happy for the break, and made sure to eat as slowly as possible in order to have more time to chat with Ron, Tyler, and Ginny.
Harry’s favorite part of the day by far was after dinner, when he was able to just relax and spend time with his friends. He often played Wizard chess with Ron, and the entire group enjoyed playing Exploding Snap together on occasion. A few times, Mr. Weasley even joined them for some Muggle card games that Tyler was teaching him. Harry guessed that Poker would probably be more exciting if they had actually been betting, but it was fun to spend the time joking around with everyone, regardless.
Harry was especially fond of the few times he and Ginny were able to sneak away for nighttime broom rides above the Burrow. Surprisingly, they spent most of their time in the air just hovering and talking, secure in the knowledge that no one could overhear them. He found himself falling harder for her each day, but he forced himself to remain quiet about it. She knew how he felt, and it was up to her to make the next move. For now, he would be content to be her friend.
Harry’s birthday began just like any other day, or so he thought when he was awakened very early by someone knocking on his bedroom door. Groaning, he stumbled across the room and wrenched the door open, prepared to give Hermione a good telling off for waking him up so early on his birthday, when she had promised to let him have the day off. To his surprise, Hermione was not the one standing outside on the landing; it was Ginny.
“Hi,” Harry croaked, wincing at the sound of his own sleepy voice.
Ginny giggled at him. “Good morning,” she said with a smile that made a shiver run down his spine. “I wanted to be the first to tell you Happy Birthday.”
Harry cleared his throat. “Thanks,” he said, and he was relieved to hear that his voice had returned to normal.
They stood there watching each other for what felt like several minutes before Ginny said, “I actually wanted to give you your present now, with nobody else around. Would you mind coming down to the garden with me?”
“No problem.” He pulled the bedroom door closed behind him and followed Ginny down the stairs and out the back door, wondering all the while what she could have gotten him that she would want to keep secret from her family.
As soon as they were alone in the garden, Harry asked in what he hoped was a casual voice (even though he knew it wasn’t), “So... what’s this all about?”
“Eager to get your present, are you?” she asked playfully.
“I could be,” he answered. “Of course, I could also just be trying to get things over with as quickly as possible because I’m really annoyed at being dragged outside before five o’clock in the morning on my birthday.” He grinned at her and winked to make sure she knew he was kidding.
Ginny shrugged. “In that case, never mind,” she said airily, as though it didn’t matter to her at all. “Go on back to bed; I’m sure I can find somebody else who wants this.” She pulled a small, neatly wrapped package from her pocket.
Harry eyed the present curiously. “Well, seeing as I’m already up....” He broke into a grin, but Ginny’s expression didn’t change. “Alright, what do I have to do to get the present?” he finally asked with a small laugh.
Ginny looked thoughtful for a moment before dramatically answering, “You could always declare your undying love and devotion to me.”
Harry took a step closer and locked his eyes with hers. “I think I might have already done that,” he said quietly. “I know I’ve never said it in exactly that way, but-”
“Stop, Harry!” Ginny interrupted abruptly. Tears began shining in the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them back.
“I’m sorry,” she said in a low, apologetic voice. “I shouldn’t have asked for that, especially not as a joke.” She closed her eyes and breathed deeply.
“It’s okay,” Harry said in a defeated tone. For one shining moment, he had allowed himself to think that Ginny had gotten over her fear of starting a relationship with him, but now he could see that she had just been making a flippant comment. She hadn’t meant to get his hopes up, but he still couldn’t help the feeling of rejection that was beginning to settle over him.
“No it’s not,” Ginny said firmly. “Look, Harry, I really do like you, but....”
“Seriously, Ginny, I know what you’re trying to say. It’s okay - I told you that you can have all the time you need, remember? I still mean that.” Attempting to lighten the conversation, he smirked at her and asked, “So, can I have that present now?”
Ginny shook her head vehemently. “Not now,” she said, her voice still serious. “Not after what I just did.”
“What did you just do?” Harry asked, confused. “You were almost ready to hand it over a minute ago.”
“I got your hopes up about you and me,” she answered miserably. “I promised myself I wouldn’t do that to you, but what happened? I did it anyway. And now I can see that this present was a stupid idea and will only make things worse.”
His curiosity now piqued, Harry decided to try bargaining. “What if I promise not to interpret it as anything other than a gesture of friendship?”
Ginny scrutinized him for a moment. “Promise?”
“I promise, no matter what that present is, I will not let myself think that it means you fancy me.”
Ginny sighed and reluctantly handed over the small package. Harry tore off the paper and quickly opened the small box. Glimpsing its contents, he looked up at Ginny in surprise. She was nervously biting her lower lip, and she looked so vulnerable that he felt an almost irresistible urge to pull her into his arms.
“It’s too girly, isn’t it?” Ginny asked quietly, looking down at her shoes.
“Well, er... it’s just that I don’t normally wear jewelry,” Harry said awkwardly.
“I knew it was stupid,” Ginny mumbled. “You don’t have to take it.”
“No, it’s not that,” he said quickly. “It’s just... why did you get me a necklace?” Harry hoped she understood that his question was purely out of curiosity, and was not meant to hurt her feelings.
“It’s not just a necklace,” Ginny said, looking up at him and sounding slightly affronted. “It’s a locket. There’s a picture inside - see?” She lifted the thin gold chain out of the box and opened the small, circular pendant for Harry to see. A moving photograph of Ginny smiled and winked at him, and then began laughing. Harry could almost hear her laughter as he watched the picture, completely mesmerized by her face.
Ginny cleared her throat, snapping him out of his reverie. “That’s exactly why I was worried about giving it to you,” she sighed. “You kept hinting that you wanted a picture of me, and I thought this would be a little less awkward than having one sitting on your nightstand, but....”
Harry snapped the locket closed and fastened the tiny chain around his neck. “I think it’s perfect,” he said as he dropped the small pendant down the front of his pajamas. “This way, I can keep you close to my heart, where you belong.” It sounded incredibly cheesy, and he would have mercilessly teased Ron or Tyler if he ever heard them say anything similar, but somehow he didn’t care at the moment.
Ginny made an exasperated noise. “Harry, that’s exactly-”
“I know this doesn’t mean you want to be anything other than my friend,” he said, holding up a hand to cut her off. Then he smirked at her and added, “But I’m not going to pretend it doesn’t mean you like the fact that I fancy you.” To his satisfaction, a slow blush began creeping up Ginny’s cheeks. “I’m going to wear this because of how I feel about you, not because I have any delusions about you wanting to be my girlfriend.”
Ginny bit her lip, obviously fighting the urge to tell him that she actually did want to be his girlfriend. The only thing holding her back was fear, and Harry could see it in her eyes.
He took off his glasses and tiredly rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Why won’t you trust me?” he asked suddenly. “You know how much I care about you. Trust me, Ginny; I’d never do anything to hurt you.”
Ginny’s eyes widened, all emotions other than fear suddenly taking flight. She stumbled backward a step, and Harry hurriedly pushed his glasses back onto his face, wondering what he had done wrong. As his vision sharpened, he could see that something about the fear in Ginny’s eyes had changed. It was no longer the fear of a girl who didn’t want her heart to be broken; it was total, abject terror.
“Ginny,” Harry began, but she didn’t give him a chance to say anything else, as she suddenly turned and sprinted for the kitchen door. She threw it open and disappeared inside before he even had a chance to react. “What did I do?” Harry asked himself aloud. With a frustrated growl, he angrily kicked at a clump of dirt, dragged his feet to the kitchen door, and stomped inside, pulling the door closed behind him.
Maybe I should go wake Hermione and ask her what she thinks, Harry thought as he began climbing the stairs. He didn’t get a chance to talk to her, however. As soon as he arrived outside Ginny’s bedroom door he could hear quiet sobs coming from inside, and he realized that Ginny must have run directly to her room. With a resigned sigh, Harry turned around and was about to head back downstairs when he heard Hermione’s voice.
“Ginny, I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong,” Hermione said. Harry froze in place. He knew he really shouldn’t eavesdrop on this conversation, but he was completely at a loss as to what he had done wrong. Perhaps Ginny would tell Hermione what was the matter, and then he could fix it. After looking around surreptitiously, he quietly stepped closer to the bedroom door.
“What if I don’t want your help?” Ginny sobbed.
“Then you wouldn’t have come in here and started crying on my shoulder,” Hermione answered simply. “Does this have something to do with Harry? Did he do something?”
There was silence for a moment, and Harry knew that Ginny must be either nodding or shaking her head. What he wouldn’t give for the chance to see what was going on, rather than just hearing it.
“Well, if it wasn’t Harry then what was it?” Hermione asked. Harry’s eyebrows rose in surprise. Either what had happened downstairs had been completely coincidental, or Ginny was lying. He fervently hoped it was the former.
“Tom,” Ginny said so quietly that Harry had to strain to hear. His blood ran cold as his thoughts immediately turned to the only Tom he knew: Big Tom, the hulking bully who had tried to kill him no less than three times during his first term at St. Brutus’s. But that didn’t make any sense. He had told Ginny and the others about Big Tom, of course, but there was nothing he could do to any of them now - he was locked up. Besides, nothing that had happened out in the garden could have reminder her of him. Unless.... An equally disturbing thought arose in Harry’s mind, causing him to shudder slightly. What if Tom was another boy that Ginny fancied more than him? Perhaps that was the real reason she wanted to keep her distance. He pressed his ear up to the door to hear Hermione’s reply.
“Tom? Tom who?”
“Who do you think?” Ginny growled. “Tom Riddle!”
Hermione gasped. Apparently she knew who Tom Riddle was, and judging by her reaction, he hadn’t made a very good impression. “But how...?” Her question trailed away into nothing.
“I know it’s stupid, Hermione, but-” Ginny stopped abruptly, and Harry could picture her angrily wiping the tears from her eyes. “I was talking to Harry out in the garden, and he took off his glasses and said, ‘Trust me, Ginny; I’d never do anything to hurt you.’”
“Call me crazy, Ginny, but I think that was a nice thing for him to say,” Hermione replied evenly, as though she knew there had to be more to the story. Harry was glad to know that Hermione at least agreed with him on that point.
“I told you it was stupid,” Ginny said in a disgruntled voice. “It’s just that- Harry’s the same age Tom was then, you know, and without his glasses he looks sort of like Tom did. He was just standing there, looking eerily like Tom Riddle, and then he said exactly the same words Tom did right before he-” She stopped abruptly, unable to finish her sentence. Harry’s fists clenched unconsciously. It all made sense now. This Tom Riddle had taken advantage of Ginny at some point, and Harry had unknowingly reminded her of him. The thought made his blood boil, and he swore to himself that Riddle would pay.
The interior of the bedroom was silent now, except for Ginny’s quiet sobbing and Hermione’s unintelligible whispering. Harry knew that the conversation was over. Still seething over what he had just learned, he descended to the twins’ old bedroom, where he was staying while at the Burrow, and flopped down on his bed. He tossed and turned for what seemed like hours as he replayed the scene in the garden and the conversation between Ginny and Hermione over and over in his mind. All desire for sleep had long since fled, and he now thought of only one thing: revenge. Tom Riddle, whoever he was, had hurt Ginny. Harry Potter would make sure he paid dearly for it.
Harry glanced at the clock on the desk and was dismayed to find that he had only been lying there for about twenty minutes. Unable to stay in bed any longer, he stood up and climbed the stairs to Ron’s room, where he began shaking Ron awake.
“Geroff,” Ron muttered sleepily as he turned over.
“Ron, wake up. I need to talk to you,” Harry said urgently as he shook his friend again.
Ron slowly turned toward him and propped himself up on his elbow. “What’s so bloody important?” he asked grumpily as he glanced at the clock. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”
“Yeah, and I’ve already been up for quite a while,” Harry answered. “I need you to tell me about Tom Riddle.”
Ron tried unsuccessfully to hide his shock at the mention of that name. “Where’d you hear that name?” he asked warily.
“I sort of overheard Ginny talking to Hermione about him,” Harry answered, looking down at the floor.
Ron sighed. “Look, Harry, I’m tired alright? If you want me to tell you about Riddle, that’s fine, but you’ve got to tell me what happened first. Otherwise, I’m going back to sleep.”
Harry took a deep breath and sank into the chair that sat at Ron’s desk. “Ginny thought it would be funny to wake me up really early on my birthday,” he began, deciding that telling Ron about the locket was neither necessary nor wise at the moment. “We were out in the garden, talking, and I took off my glasses to rub my eyes. While I still had my glasses off, I said something about wanting her to trust me, and she got this terrified look on her face and ran back into the house. I sort of listened through her bedroom door when I got back, and she was crying and telling Hermione that I had somehow reminded her of Tom Riddle. I got the impression that he had-” he paused, searching for the right words, “-taken advantage of her,” he finished through clenched teeth.
Ron nodded slowly. “You could say that,” he said quietly, averting his eyes and looking extremely uncomfortable. “It was back in her first year. Riddle was sixteen.”
Harry was back on his feet in a flash. “Where is he now?” he demanded. “I’ll kill him!”
Ron shook his head, still not looking up at him. “You can’t,” he said simply.
“Watch me,” Harry seethed.
“Harry, I mean it. You really can’t kill him, so just drop it.” Ron continued staring at the floor as though trying desperately to avoid having this conversation.
“And why’s that?” Harry demanded.
Ron finally looked up at his friend and swallowed hard. “Because you already did.”
Harry felt the air leave his lungs as he collapsed back into the chair. He struggled to take a breath as Ron looked on concernedly. “What happened?” he asked weakly.
Ron squeezed his eyes shut. “I knew I shouldn’t have said anything,” he muttered to himself. “Ginny made us promise not to mention Riddle to you at all. Fat lot of good that promise did.”
“What happened, Ron?” Harry asked a bit louder this time.
Opening his eyes, Ron sighed in defeat. “Well, since I’ve mucked this up even worse than I ever thought possible, why not? It’s actually not what you think, Harry. Riddle never- well, he never did what you’re thinking about to Ginny. What he did was probably worse, though, really. He took over her mind.”
Harry didn’t know how to react to this revelation, so he simply stared dumbly at his friend.
“Riddle wasn’t even a real person anymore. He was just a memory that had been stored in a magical diary, but somehow he found a way to possess her. He made her... do things... attack people.... He spent that entire year draining the life out of her, and he almost ended up being able to come out of the diary for good. He was the one who made Ginny go into the Chamber of Secrets, Harry. He was the Heir of Slytherin.” Ron’s voice was shaking now, although Harry wasn’t sure if it was from anger or remembered fear. “After you killed the Basilisk, Riddle tried to kill you, but you stabbed his diary with the Basilisk’s fang, and he vanished.”
The room was silent for a long moment. “That’s why Ginny looked like she was holding something back when she told me about the Chamber of Secrets and the Basilisk,” Harry said quietly. “She didn’t want to have to talk about it.”
Ron nodded solemnly and looked back at the floor, giving Harry the impression that there was more to the story than even Ron was willing to share. “She’s always had a hard time with it. Hermione says it makes her feel weak because she wasn’t able to stop Riddle from possessing her.” There was a long pause before he looked back up at Harry.
“She’s fancied you for a long time, you know that?” he asked suddenly.
Harry looked up sharply. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “Your mum mentioned that when you lot were still at school.”
“Don’t tell anybody I said this, but Ginny’s always thought that part of the reason you didn’t fancy her back was because you needed a strong girl, and you saw her as weak.”
“Where’d you hear that?” Harry asked.
Ron looked slightly offended. “Why can’t I have come up with it on my own?” he asked. “Okay, fine; Hermione told me a long time ago, but that’s not the point. Ginny’s just- she’s afraid you might not fancy her anymore if you know about her weaknesses.”
“I know she’s strong, Ron,” Harry said quietly. It was true. He did know she was strong, although he had no idea how he knew. He just did.
“Good. Now can I please get back to sleep? I’m exhausted.”
Harry nodded and headed downstairs to get dressed as Ron settled back into his pillow. He wished he could talk to Hassseth about the situation; she always seemed to know what to do. Sadly, that would never be an option again. Harry dressed quickly, and then descended the rest of the stairs to sit alone in the living room, lost in his thoughts, until Mrs. Weasley came downstairs to make breakfast.
“Harry? What are you doing up so early?” she asked in surprise when she found him on the sofa.
Harry shrugged. “Just thinking,” he mumbled evasively.
“Thinking about what?” Mrs. Weasley asked in a concerned voice.
“Nothing in particular,” Harry lied. The truth was that he couldn’t stop thinking about the terror in Ginny’s eyes when she had run away from him, and Ron’s description of Tom Riddle and the enchanted diary.
“Harry,” Mrs. Weasley said gently, “I’ve been a mother for a long time now, and I can tell when something’s bothering one of my children.” Harry looked up sharply at her and she continued, “I’ve thought of you as one of my own for some time now, Harry. It would mean a lot to me if you’d share what’s on your mind.”
Harry felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes, and he blinked rapidly to push them back. Nobody had ever said anything like that to him before - not that he could remember, anyway. “It’s sort of personal,” he croaked.
“That means it’s got something to do with Ginny, am I right?” She gave him a soft smile as she sat down next to him on the sofa.
Harry gaped at her. “How’d you know that?” he asked after a moment.
Mrs. Weasley smiled. “Well, for one thing, there was that Howler that Hermione sent her right after you went back to your relatives’ house. But even without that, it isn’t hard to notice the way you look at her.”
Harry felt his face grow hot.
“No,” Mrs. Weasley laughed, “I didn’t mean like that. I try hard NOT to notice those sorts of looks. I just mean that it’s obvious how much you care for her now, and she seems to be having trouble coming to grips with that.”
“You can say that again,” Harry muttered dejectedly.
Mrs. Weasley laid a comforting hand on his arm. “What did my daughter do this time?” she sighed.
Harry snorted. “Shouldn’t you be siding with her on this? I mean, you are her mother.”
“What’s that got to do with anything? I know when my children are being too stubborn for their own good, just like I know you’re stalling right now. So out with it.”
Looking down at his clasped hands, Harry said in a very quiet voice, “She ran away from me. She woke me up really early and we went out in the garden to talk, and everything was fine until I said something that reminded her of-” He stopped abruptly.
“Reminded her of what, dear?” Mrs. Weasley asked patiently.
“Tom Riddle,” Harry whispered.
Mrs. Weasley let out a small gasp of surprise and gripped his arm a little tighter. “She told you that?”
Harry shook his head. “She ran away in tears, and I sort of... overheard her talking to Hermione when I was on my way upstairs. I actually woke Ron up and forced him to tell me about Riddle, and then I ended up down here, thinking. I don’t know what to do.”
Mrs. Weasley gave him a weak smile and said, “All you have to do is sit back and enjoy your birthday. Don’t worry about Ginny; she’ll come ‘round eventually.” She gave his arm a small squeeze, and then stood and walked to the kitchen, where Harry could hear her begin preparing breakfast. He sank back into the soft cushions of the sofa, lightly fingering the small locket through his shirt, and hoped for all he was worth that Ginny would be back to normal when she emerged from her room.
A/N: If a locket isn’t too girly for Salazar Slytherin, it’s not too girly for Harry Potter. That’s all I’m saying.