For Fai, via the Hogwarts Forum Secret Santa. TomGinny, superhero!au. I hope you enjoy! Happy holidays, dear.

Word Count: 3387

I.

"Ginny, go back inside," her father warns.

Ginny stands there, frozen in place. She watches in horror as the masked figures approach.

She knows who they are, of course. Though they aren't directly affiliated with the Dark Lord, the Death Eaters are a cult following. They worship him and try to spread chaos wherever they can. She shudders, wondering why they've chosen to come here.

"Ginny, now," her father says, his voice sharper than she's ever heard it.

It's enough to snap her back to reality. By some miracle, she remembers how to use her legs. With one last glance over her shoulder at her father, the fifteen year old sprints inside, slipping slightly on the icy ground.

"Mum! Mum!"

She doesn't have to look for long. Her mother and brothers are all standing at the window, watching whatever is happening outside unfold. "Hide, Ginny," Bill says.

She shakes her head stubbornly. They always try to exclude her because she's young, because she's the only girl. It isn't fair. She wants to know what's going on.

"Go, Ginny," her mother says softly.

Ginny opens her mouth to argue, but before she can say anything, she hears a gunshot. That's all it takes for her bravery to shatter. She runs up the stairs and doesn't look back.

…

Everything is a blur of noise. She hears the gunshots ring out again and again, interrupted only by the screaming.

Ginny curls up where she hides under her bed, biting her knuckles until she breaks skin. It's all she can do to keep from crying out.

"Is that all of them?" she hears someone ask.

"How should I know? There are too damn many of them."

She curls in on herself even more until she nearly resembles a trembling ball.

"Should have joined us," a third voice says. "They're nearly an army on their own."

"Were," the first person corrects with a cold laugh.

…

The detectives have questions, but she doesn't have any answers. Ginny sits there, wrapped in a blanket, tapping her mug of tea that has long since turned cold.

They look at her with pity and whisper things like shock and poor dear.

"Only one living relative," she hears one say. "A great-aunt, Muriel Weasley. We've contacted her, and she'll take the girl in."

Once, the idea of living with Auntie Muriel would have been a nightmare. Now, however, she knows what true terror is. Even that wretched woman cannot scare her now.

II.

Auntie Muriel doesn't approve of boxing. She tells Ginny again and again that it isn't ladylike.

"If you're frustrated, take up needlepoint," the old bat tells her. "Nice and calming."

Ginny tells her exactly where she can shove her needlepoint and ends up grounded for a month.

Being grounded is the worst. Auntie Muriel doesn't let her leave her room except for meals. Ginny spends the days longing for her punching bag and settling for doing as many push ups and crunches as she can.

She has to keep active. It's something she's learned in the two years since her family's murder. If she sits still for too long, she feels like the world is collapsing around her.

…

She wakes up in a cold sweat, mouth opened in a scream. She can still see those terrible masks, and the gunshots and screams are still so loud in her mind.

Her mother would have rushed in to comfort her. Auntie Muriel, however, only yells for her to go back to sleep.

Ginny shivers, wrapping her arms around her slender body. She cannot stay here. It doesn't matter that she'll be out on the streets if she leaves. Anything would be better than this.

…

Ginny doesn't leave a note. She packs a few changes of clothes and grabs some food to get her by for a little while. She doesn't know what she'll do when she runs out, but she's always been clever enough to manage on her own.

She'll figure it out; she always does.

III.

It takes a month on the streets for her to find her calling. She's been so focused on surviving that she's almost forgotten that there are dark things in the world.

"Give me your fucking purse, lady!"

Ginny considers walking away. The mugging in progress has nothing to do with her.

"Please… Please, don't hurt me."

That voice breaks her heart. She doesn't recognize it, but the desperation is all too familiar. Her mother had begged the Death Eaters not to hurt her children, and she had sounded just as pained, just as frantic.

In that moment, Ginny knows that she can't just walk away.

"Hurry up! Your purse! Now!"

She's grateful for her training now. Her legs move, quickly carrying her forward. She doesn't even care about the knife he's brandishing. With a cry, she tackles him with all her might.

Behind her, she hears hurried footsteps. Good. At least the woman has enough sense to run.

She doesn't focus on that for long. Her attention quickly returns to the man she has pinned. Her fists seem to move on their own, connecting with his face again and again.

This man is just another villain in this dark world. Maybe he isn't as bad as the Death Eaters, but he is still wicked. There are too many people like him in this city.

"Please! Please, stop!" His words are slurred thanks to his bloody lip.

Ginny snaps out of it and realizes the damage she has done. His face is bleeding and swollen. Bruises already begin to form around his left eye.

She climbs off, scurrying back, her heart racing painfully in her chest.

What has she done?

…

She doesn't know how long she walks the streets aimlessly. Slowly, the shock begins to fade. Something new begins to grow within her. Adrenaline mingles with a sense of purpose, and she smiles, gently rubbing her cracked knuckles.

It's just like the comic books Ron had loved. She is on the path to becoming a vigilante now, and this is her calling. She will clean up these streets; she will let the world know that no injustice is too small to escape her watchful eye.

And one day she will take down the Dark Lord.

IV.

Within a month, people whisper about her. No one knows her name. She is just a masked vigilante known as the Crimson Flame.

A smile plays at her lips as she finds a blurry picture of herself on the front page of the paper.

Watch Out Dark Lord! The Crimson Flame is Here.

Good. It saves her the trouble of trying to call him out herself.

She walks around her makeshift home, an abandoned factory that is all but forgotten. Her fingers brush over the crimson mask nestled among her few belongings.

The Dark Lord will find her. It's only a matter of time, and she will be ready.

V.

As it turns out, she isn't ready at all. Two masked men ambush her on her way back to her little home.

"You sure it's her?" one asks.

The other holds her tightly. Ginny squirms, but his grip is too strong. "Look at the hair," he says. "Has to be."

That's enough to settle the debate. A hood goes over her head, and she's plunged into darkness.

A flicker of panic grips her. No one knows where she is. No one cares. If anything happens to her, she will be just another victim.

Even worse, she will die without having the chance to take out the Dark Lord.

Ginny struggles harder, swearing loudly as she's ushered away.

"Quiet, little girl," one growls.

She lashes out, her foot connecting with something solid. One of the men cries out in pain.

"Feisty thing, isn't she?" his companion chuckles.

Ginny doesn't get to hear the other's answer. There's a sudden crack as something hits the base of her skull. The world seems to fade away.

…

Her head throbs when she wakes. Ginny blinks rapidly, her mind swirling. With a groan, she tries to move, only to find herself bound to a chair.

"You're awake."

She turns her head at the sound of the voice, wincing as the movement sends a fresh ripple of pain through her neck. "Who are you?"

Under ordinary circumstances, she might have found the young man attractive. However, she doesn't care about his handsome facial feature and dark hair; he is little more than a threat.

"From what I hear, you're a clever girl," he says, his voice smooth as silk. Ginny can't help but shiver. "Can't you figure it out?"

It's an easy guess, really. She had only caught a glimpse of the masked men, but she had recognized the intricate patterns on their ivory masks. They had been Death Eaters on a mission.

"The Dark Lord," she says quietly.

She's waited for this day for years, but this isn't how she'd imagined it. She had wanted to face him as a bold heroine. Now, she's little more than an easy target.

"And you're the Crimson Flame," he says, stepping closer. His fingers brush gently through her hair. "You've made quite the name for yourself over the past two years."

"If the city has a villain, it should have a hero," she snaps.

His lips quirk into an almost smile. He circles her like a predator closing in on its next meal. "Am I a villain?" He sounds genuinely surprised.

"My family is dead because of you."

The Dark Lord comes to a sudden stop. His brows raise, and he studies her as though she's said something profound. "I beg your pardon?"

"The Weasley family massacre," she answers angrily. Has he called for so many executions that he can't even remember? Ginny has never wanted to hit someone more than she does now.

"You're Ginny. The girl who escaped," he muses, his dark eyes shining with recognition. "Those were not my orders. The idiot who lead the attack was executed shortly after."

She doesn't know what to make of this news. She has dreamt of vengeance for so long, but knowing it's already been taken care of doesn't ease her mind. It won't bring her family back. Still, it's good to know that there's one less Death Eater walking the earth.

"Life is funny, isn't it?" the Dark Lord muses, lips quirking into the smallest of smiles. "I've been so fascinated by you, but I'm the one who made you."

Ginny scowls. She doesn't like anyone claiming credit for the things she's done. She has spent years training and preparing, shaping herself into the hero this town needs; no villain can take that away from her. "I made myself," she says simply.

His smile broadens. It's amazing how eerie it makes him look. Most people look warmer and more open whenever they smile. The young man before her, however, only looks more cruel.

"You wouldn't have become this if my followers never killed your family," he reasons, his voice as calm as a normal person discussing the weather. "I could use someone like you."

Ginny spits at him. It misses his face, but he scowls as he wipes it from his neck.

"You're scum," she snaps. "I would never join you."

His features are composed once again. It's chilling how he can do that so easily; the Dark Lord does not need a mask when he wears cold, calculated calmness so well. "You're just like me."

"I'm nothing like you."

"You'll see it in time. I assure you."

VI.

Being his prisoner is worse than being grounded by Auntie Muriel. At least the old woman would allow Ginny some time away from her room. Now, however, she's trapped here. Her meals come through a tiny slot in the door.

The room is too small; she cannot even pace. Her energy builds up, but there is no release. Slowly, she begins to collapse in on herself.

There is no escaping the memories now. The screaming and sound of gunshots in her head never stop. She still sees her family's faces, still sees all the blood, even when she's awake.

She doesn't know how long it takes to break. Time seems to move so differently in this room.

But she feels herself shatter. She draws her knees close to her chest, and there's no fighting the sobs that spill from her throat.

VII.

"Have you learned some manners?" the familiar velvety voice calls from the other side of the door.

Ginny glances up with apathetic eyes. It's the first voice she's heard in what feels like years.

"Or should I leave you in here longer?" he asks.

"Please… Let me out," she whispers.

She doesn't have the energy to fight anymore. All her training has failed her. She is little more than a helpless prisoner praying for mercy.

In the back of her mind, she's well aware that this must have been his plan the whole time. Somehow, she realizes she doesn't care. She only wants her freedom back.

The door opens. Her legs feel weak as she tries to walk; she must look like a clumsy baby deer learning to take its first steps.

"Very good," the Dark Lord praises, offering her his hand.

She shouldn't accept. He is a monster who stands for the very things Ginny fights against. But there's no more fighting, and she accepts his hand.

"Good," he repeats, his free hand pushing through her tangled red hair. "Let's get you cleaned up. I want to show you something."

…

Once she's showered and dressed in a clean set of clothes, the Dark Lord leads her through his lair. It seems strange that it looks so normal, almost like any office she would find in the city. Evil villains are supposed to have fancy caves that are dark but filled with advanced technology. It's almost disappointing.

"What do you think I do?" he asks as they enter a large office.

Ginny looks around. She's certain there's a correct answer to this, and that there might be a clue within the room, but she finds nothing. Her mouth opens and closes wordlessly for several moments before she manages to find her voice again. "You kill people, destroy families, try to take over the world," she says. "That's what villains do."

He watches for a moment, amusement clear in his eyes. With a chuckle, he takes a seat behind the desk. "I'm hardly a villain," he says. "But you aren't completely wrong."

She raises her brows, curious. If her description fits, she's reasonably sure that makes him a villain.

"I kill people who need to be killed," he explains. "This city— hell, this entire country— is full of idiots. They're nearly primitive. I want to open their minds, Ginny. I want to bring about a great change for this land."

"Change?"

"No one seems to realize that the world is dying, and humans are to blame. I've appealed to lawmakers and politicians, but they are corrupted by greed. They don't care if the world goes to hell as long as their pockets are fat."

Ginny swallows dryly, trying to take this all in. She doesn't know if it's true or not. The Dark Lord has always kept his motives to himself, according to the news outlets. Is it really possible that he might have almost noble intentions? It's hard to imagine. After all, he's caused so much pain and suffering over the years.

"I want a perfect world," he continues. "If that means sacrificing half the population, then so be it. You wanted a world without crime, didn't you?"

She nods, lips tugging into a frown. He shouldn't make this much sense. "That's why I became the Crimson Flame."

"You weren't looking at the bigger picture, my love," he says, rising to his feet and closing the distance between them. His hands rest on her shoulders, and she shivers at the touch. "You can't stop crime by taking a few street thugs. You have to go to the heart of corruption."

"Go big, or go home." She means it as a joke, but as the words escape her lips, she realizes they ring true.

The smile on his lips looks genuine for the first time. This isn't an act; he isn't trying to manipulate. He is truly proud of her for understanding.

"The name's Tom, by the way," he says. "Tom Riddle. If we're going to be partners, I should be able to trust you with my identity."

"Partners? I never said anything about—"

"You didn't have to," he chuckles. "I can see it in your eyes. You're mine now, Ginny Weasley."

And she knows it's true.

VIII.

She doesn't understand why this feels so natural. These are people that she's always believed she could trust. Politics may get messy, but do they really warrant a death sentence?

Somehow, she realizes it does. Tom is right. These people don't care about what's right for the people or the country. They will continue to let the world fall apart to satisfy their own greed.

This is the right path. It may not be easy and it may go against everything she's ever been taught, but she can feel it in her heart.

"Have mercy! Please!" Cornelius Fudge begs as Ginny looms over him.

She watches him, smirking at the way he cowers in fear at her feet. It shouldn't be so satisfying, but it is. The thugs on the streets hadn't been this fun. They had lived in fear, knowing they might get caught. People like Fudge, however, think they're protected by status and money. They never see it coming.

She pulls the dagger from her belt. "Did you have mercy when you closed down more than a dozen homeless shelters?" she asks. "How many people did you take in and feed?"

"You don't understand! I— I didn't have a choice!" he insists.

"Wrong answer."

She doesn't hesitate. The blade flies from her hand, sinking into his neck.

It had been hard at first. Part of her still tried to believe that these people might be worth saving. Now, however, she sees them for what they are— wicked, corrupt scum who are tearing the world apart. It's an honor to cleanse the city.

IX.

Say It Isn't So: Crimson Flame In League With Dark Lord?

Ginny pauses when she sees the headline. A small smile plays at her lips. She hands the vendor the money for it and grabs a paper. "Keep the change," she tells him.

"Bless you, ma'am!"

There's a spring in her step now as she walks along the streets. It's quieter now. So many people live in fear of attracting the diabolical duo's attention that they rarely leave their homes. Since she's teamed up with Tom two months ago, crime rates have dropped nearly ten percent.

It's slow progress, but it's a step closer to a perfect world.

X.

It takes them five years.

The world is burning. Glass litters the streets.

She stands at his side, their hands clasped tightly together as they stand on the ledge of their hideout's roof and observe their kingdom. "It will be perfect one day, my pet," he assures her, offering her a quick, chaste peck on her lips.

She smiles. One day seems so far away, but she knows these things take time. Still, she isn't quite satisfied.

"It isn't enough," she says quietly.

Tom looks at her, dark brows raised. "Pardon?"

She watches the flames dance in the distance as fire consumes the palace— their final act to show that the old rule is over. There is still so much to be done here, but her mind focuses on the bigger picture. So many countries are being torn apart by war, poverty and greed. She and Tom have helped England…

"Perhaps we should think about expanding our empire," she suggests, a wicked grin on her lips.

He pulls her close, a low chuckle escaping his lips. "I love the way you think."

And as the world burns around them and he holds her, Ginny feels a fluttering in her chest. The screams don't haunt her anymore. She has made the world a safer place, and she knows her family would be proud.