Got an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other
And it's his good advice that I take.
I live with a sprinkle of a little sin
When the world is asleep I'm awake.

With the roll of my dirty dice
I'm only following the devil's advice.
I'll take your love and leave my kind regards,
But I never cheat at cards.

So you really think you're leading
When we tango across the floor.
It's only 'cause my feet are out of sight.
Mine is the hand that spins you round,
Then it pushes you out into the night.

With the roll of my dirty dice
I'm only following the devil's advice.
I'll take your love and leave my kind regards,
But I never cheat at cards.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter™ belongs to JKR and WB. Song lyrics (Dirty Dice) ©Katie Melua

1: Knowing the Enemy

'Ginny, love,' Harry whispered through cracked lips, his fingers – so gnarled from being broken so many times – came to her face and brushed her cheek ever so lightly, causing her eyes to flicker shut in remembrance of so long ago when he would cup her face and kiss her until up was down and lights flickered and sparkled like fireworks in her head. No kiss tonight though. Kisses are brought by hope, however desperate – and there was none. There was nothing left.

'Tomorrow – they'll finish me tomorrow, love,' he croaked, so long since his voice had been used for anything but screaming.

Ginny nodded silently. Her heart still shouted that it was wrong, wrong, wrong, but there was no point saying it; there was nothing they could do.

'When they take me… remember that I love you. When I die in shame, please try and think the best of me,' Harry continued. 'I did my best. But, there were so many, and my wand – oh Gods, my wand!'

'Shh, Harry,' Ginny said, pulling his broken body so she had him cradled on her lap. 'You did everything. Face your death with pride – do you remember what Dumbledore used to say? Death is just another great adventure.'

'I don't want another adventure, Gin. I want my peace. I want my family and my friends and I want to be happy again. How long is it since we were happy?' Harry asked, not needing an answer.

They both knew exactly when the last time they'd been happy was. It was the last night of the summer holidays and Ginny was heading back for her seventh year, whilst Harry was off with Ron and Hermione to confer with the Order and come up with a better strategy for the defeat of Voldemort. Harry had tried pushing Ginny away, but when he broke down after the deaths of Lupin, Tonks and they're brand new baby Ginny had been there to pick up the pieces and set him on his feet again. She was his rock as he was her knight in shining armour. That summer had been full of delicious kisses and promises sealed with one night – one night – of beautiful love making, waking the next day to dusky light and complete bliss.

But the spell was broken minutes later when Ron hurtled into their room and announced the Death Eaters were at the Burrow. That they'd killed Molly and were fighting Arthur and they had to run, run, run. Things had quickly got worse. Ginny, Harry, Ron and Hermione managed to escape with no more than two broken bones between them, but it soon became clear that it was not an isolated attack. The Order had taken too long in indecision and Voldemort had played his hand.

One week. That was all it took for everyone's hopes – so high for success to be squashed beneath the heel of a twisted shell of a man whose very name was feared. So many died. The Hogwarts professors all fought until the very gruesome end. The Order members fought fiercely and passionately, but their forces were split and unprepared. There was nothing anyone could do. By the end of a very bloody week the remaining Order members were rounded up and ceremoniously tortured to the brink of insanity until Voldemort gave in to their pleading cries for death.

It had taken him another month to find Harry and his friends. They fought like they never fought before, but they were surrounded and outnumbered. Harry's wand was snapped soon into the battle, rendering him almost useless. Ron and Hermione had been killed proudly, staring defiantly into the blood red eyes of their nemesis as he screamed the killing curse at them. They had died together in each others arms. Of that, at least, Harryand Ginny were thankful.

Ginny and Harry had been taken and thrown into a dingy cell with next to no light and the constant dripping of water. Everyday Harry was dragged from the cell and tortured for more information, before being thrown back into the cell. Ginny simply had to watch and wait and help clean away the blood, knowing that this was her torture. There was no more information to give. Everyone was dead. Even poor, naïve little Colin Creevey, whose infatuation with Harry Potter had lead him to be one of the first to die.

The days had taken on a dull, pain-filled, monotonous feel to them, neither Ginny nor Harry caring much anymore. They were too hurt to hurt anymore. They started off by counting the days until some unknown hero would rescue them, but that too just added to the pain. There was no hero – Harry was the hero and he had nothing left to give.

The night fell with no more than the cell falling into absolute dark, rather than the relative blackness that stated it was daytime. Ginny huddled against the wall, rocking Harry like a baby until he fell asleep in her arms. He couldn't move on his own anymore – it pained him to even talk – so Ginny did everything she could to help him. She listened to the dripping of the water as it steadily pounded against the floor, a timer leading down to Harry's death.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Ginny rubbed Harry's boney back, feeling the knots and discrepancies in the back of his ribs, even as her own thin back scraped harshly against the wall.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

How long was it since they last ate? How long was it since Ginny had last seen the light of day? How long would it be until the inevitable fell upon them and crushed them into sweet, dark oblivion?

Drip. Drip. Drip.

So much waste. Ginny wished she could have had children and seen their bright green eyes and curly red locks – their chocolate brown eyes and messy black hair. How wonderful it would have been to have a little bit of her and a little bit of Harry to cuddle to sleep every night. She wished she could have seen them grow up, picked them up when they fell, cheer their successes, watch as they grew and had children of their own in a perfect world where Voldemort didn't exist and the only thing between her and happiness was which way she should express it.

The door was slammed open and Harry was torn from her unresisting arms. Once she would have held on and fought for him. There was no point anymore – there was too little of Harry to fight for. Too little of herself to fight. She listened to the steady dripping as Harry's faint whimpering and the harsh footsteps faded from hearing. Then there was silence. Long, deadly silence, until…

Harsh keening shouts started up, leering screams of joy as the boy-who-lived died. Ginny nodded silently and spared a tear for Harry Potter, the love of her life, the saviour of the wizarding world who hadn't saved it enough. She let the tear run and fall to the floor, the final drip before she too was dragged from the room.

She felt the thin cloth of her shirt tear, but she could stand on her own and did not fall. As she looked with what little defiance she had left at the Death Eater, shock coursed through her – she recognised those eyes. Severus Snape thrust something around her neck, telling her only to turn it once and no more, when the time came. She had thought he was dead along with the rest of the Order. Obviously he had never been the spy they all presumed – but then why was he doing this? What was it?

Not having time to ask her questions and knowing that they wouldn't have been answered anyway, Ginny was shoved up rough stone steps into bright light. At least, it was brighter than any she had seen for so long. She was pushed forward and she stumbled slightly, but managed to catch herself before she fell, looking up into the hard, cold eyes of a twisted snake of a man who returned her gaze with cool indifference, though she could see the dark flash of triumph in the back of them.

'Ginevra Molly Weasley,' he said calmly to her, hissing over the 's' in her sirname. 'The last of the blood traitors.'

'Tom Marvolo Riddle,' Ginny bit back. 'The leader of the extremist loonies.'

Voldemort, to Ginny's surprised, merely cackled in response. 'Ah, but at least I won.'

Ginny found the last of her dignity and lifted her head high, her chin held up in desperate defiance as she slowly revolved on the spot to look each and every member in the eye. Some she recognised – the Malfoys, Greyback, Nott Jr – some she did not, and though they would never admit to it, in their very heart of hearts they were scared of this red headed girl.

Ginny saved Snape until last and when she looked, finally, into his eyes they blinked stoically back at her, though one stretched slightly as though, beneath his mask, Snape was raising a thin eyebrow at her, daring her not to trust him. When the youngest and only remaining Weasley turned to face Voldemort she sighed tiredly, lowering her head as if in admission.

Her hand came up to her neck and ducked under the material of her blouse, causing several wolf whistles to pierce the air. Ginny withdrew her hand, holding the pendant easily between finger and thumb. She took a long look at it and recognised its significance. A slow, vindictive smirk crept across her face. Ginny looked up into Voldemort's eyes.

'Not yet,' she said, and flipped it once.

Then the world was devoured by oblivion.

Ginny was lying on something fairly hard, but with a fairly spongy covering. She wondered what it was for a while before deciding she didn't care. She was hungry, tired and her whole body ached. It would be so easy to slip into an endless sleep that you couldn't wake up from. But that was OK; Ginny didn't really feel like she wanted to wake up.

Then someone screamed.

It was a very annoying noise, Ginny decided, screwing up her features as she tried in vain to block out the noise. Moments later it stopped, but it was replaced by a blubbering, fidgety sort of explanation that was just as annoying, though it was, thankfully, lower-pitched.

'What is it Wilson?' A brisk, no nonsense sort of voice asked impatiently.

'O-over there! Behind th-the bushes!'

Ginny heard an irritated sigh and felt she could empathise for the sigher completely. 'You better not be having me on, or you'll be cleaning the toilets all week next week as well.'

The screamer gave a squeal and Ginny felt like swearing at him. She held her tongue, however, when she heard the rustle of a bush being parted and choking gasp was heard. Ginny opened her eyes slowly, with much reluctance, to find a shocked Hufflepuff staring down at her, his bright yellow hair matching the prefect badge glittering on his chest.

'Who… who are you?'

'In fucking pain,' Ginny groused, her voice somehow fairly steady, though a little thick.

'Of course,' the boy said, before spinning around and ordering the other boy to go and get Professor Dumbledore. 'Are you going to be all right?' he asked tentatively.

Ginny glared at him, not moving from her fairly comfortable position on the grass. 'No,' she answered bluntly.

'What's wrong?'

'A lot of things, none of which I want to tell you,' she huffed.

'Oh great,' the boy moaned. 'You're another one of those pissy Slytherins, aren't you? So high and mighty on your soapboxes, looking down on the rest of the world –'

'How the Hell am I supposed to look down at you when I'm lying on the floor,' Ginny spat back distastefully.

'Now, now dear, there's no need for that kind of language,' a familiar voice said from behind the Hufflepuff.

Ginny rolled her eyes and tried to sit up now that Dumbledore was here, inadvertently groaning as she did so.

'Don't move,' the professor said gently, looking less tired, and old htan he had the last time Ginny had seen him.

'I feel a lot better now than I did this morning,' Ginny said scornfully. 'I think I can handle this.'

Dumbledore frowned, watching as she hefted herself to her feet. 'What happened?'

'A lot.' Ginny replied. 'Professor, can we talk somewhere private?' she asked with a significant look at the two boys, who were watching her with unmasked curiosity.

'First I think you need to visit Headmaster Dippet.'

'No.' Ginny stopped him. Normally she never would have talked to Dumbledore this way – respect for the dead and all that – but she had been through a lot since then and she needed to tell someone she could trust. 'I need to talk to you alone.'

'You know me?'

Ginny snorted in disbelief. Even in this time – whenever it was – Dumbledore would still be well known. 'Who doesn't know you?'

The professor stood a long minute, contemplating, before his eyes twinkled and he said wryly, 'I'm sure the rules can be bent a little.'

'Trust me, they'll be bent more than a little,' Ginny muttered under her breath as she followed him towards the castle. With his back turned to her Ginny did not see the momentary concern flash across his features as he heard, clearly, what she had said with the spooky advanced hearing of a good teacher.

Ginny looked up at Hogwarts with a strong sense of nostalgia for the old days, when things had been normal. But, then, things had never been normal. Her first year at Hogwarts she had been ensnared by the diary of Tom Riddle and trapped in the Chamber of Secrets. Her second year the 'notorious' Sirius Black was on the loose and infiltrated the Gryffindor common rooms. Third year heralded the Triwizard Tournament and the return of Voldemort. Fourth year she and a group of other students went into the ministry and fought against Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Fifth Year saw the death of Dumbledore and the first of many attacks on Hogwarts. Sixth year had been the year of death and reconciliations. Seventh year she had been thrown into a cell and watched as the love of her life was tortured daily. No, she had never quite known normal.

But, in between the tragedies and the adventures there had been laughter and love and quidditch and butterbeer and Hogsmeade visits and Christmases and Birthdays and even a wedding or two. When she looked up at the castle it was not the deaths she was reminded of, but family and friends and all of the good times.

Dumbledore watched the girl's face with interest. Though she seemed barely sixteen years old her eyes had a depth of sorrow to them that he had not seen since that morning when he had looked at himself in the mirror and let his mask slip – just a little – as he remembered his long dead sister. She walked like the weight of the world was on her shoulders and her form seemed so frail, so weak that it seemed impossible that she might stand for longer than a second before her grief carried her down a road of no return.

As Ginny stepped into the Entrance Hall she paused momentarily, closing her eyes and just breathing in the smell of magic that was purely Hogwarts. She had never hoped to see this place again, never hoped to see sunlight or clouds or her friends ever again. At that Ginny caught herself. She never would see her friends again.

'Professor?' she asked quietly as she followed him to the transfiguration classrooms.

'Yes?'

'What year is it?'

Dumbledore's head snapped round and he stared at her intently for a moment, his bright blue eyes trying to pierce through her, but for Ginny occulumency had become second nature – she barely realised she had brought up her barriers until she felt his push.

'Tell me,' Ginny said on a sigh, now having to concentrate to keep him out of her mind.

'1943,' Dumbledore said, backing slowly away from her mental barriers. 'Where did you learn skills like that?'

'If you will allow me to explain, professor, and I will tell you everything.'

The old man nodded slowly, sitting at his desk and offering Ginny one of the students' chairs. After all that had happened so far, and the thin tiredness of the girl before him Dumbledore found he was more disturbed than surprised when Ginny placed several warding and silencing charms around the two of them before proceeding with her explanation.

'I'm from the future. I've been sent back over fifty years-' at that Ginny stopped, her eyes wide with surprise and realisation. A breath passed her lips, before she turned back to her monologue. 'Sent back to, well, I'm not sure yet, but it involves Riddle. He – you're right professor. Riddle becomes powerful, very powerful. You fought, we all did, but in the end he was too powerful.' Ginny let out a long, shuddering breath. 'I'm the only one left. They all died, everyone, and I can't let that happen again.

'I know that meddling with time is dangerous and messy. A very clever friend once used it for almost a year to do lots of extra lessons, but all she ever did was learn. I'm back to change all of history.'

'You can't do that,' Dumbledore said without his usual preamble.

Ginny swept around to face him, tears rolling heatedly down her face, her lanky red hair clinging to the damp. 'Don't you get it? They died! All of them! Every single family member and friend. Every last remainder of what was good and right in the world was tortured and killed, the very best of whom tortured daily for information that didn't exist! And I watched. I was forced to watch and listen as he screamed and screamed and when the sadistic bastard finally killed him I listened to their laughter and glee.' Ginny collapsed to the floor, holding her head in her hands. A hoarse whisper floated from her lips, 'you have to help me.'

It was the first day back after the Christmas Holidays and the crowd pouring in to the Great Hall were as rambunctious and excited as ever, but that did not stop a confused, quieting thrill run through the students at they saw the Sorting Hat and its stool lying, calm as you please, before the High Table, the teachers watching with curiosity at how the students would react.

Once everyone was finally seated Headmaster Dippet stood to address the hall. 'Welcome back, everyone. I am pleased to announce we have a new student joining us from Egypt to spend the rest of her school career here. If you would all like to give a warm welcome to Miss Ginevra Craigson.'

Ginny stepped forward from where she had been hiding in the shadows behind the teachers' table and was greeted by a warm, if hesitant, round of applause.

'I'm sure you all have questions for her, but Miss Craigson has suffered a great loss in the past month and I ask you to refrain from inquiring after her past until such time that she is comfortable to talk about it,' Dippet continued. 'Miss, Craigson, if you will,' he said, gesturing to the hat.

Ginny nodded, a slight half smile on her face. As if she didn't already know where she was going to go. She had tried to talk the Headmaster and Dumbledore out of doing the Sorting Ceremony, but they had insisted that if they were playing her game, she would play by their rules. Ginny lifted the hat and sat down, placing it comfortably on her honey red hair.

'Ah, I know you! I haven't sorted you yet, but you have been sorted by me,' the Hat told her as if it was a completely normal occurrence. 'Oh no, not completely normal, just more frequent than you'd think,' the Hat corrected her. 'Now, where do we put you? You still have your Gryffindor characteristics, but there is more there. You have suffered a lot, but I think you will thrive in this time. I think… yes, you shall be… SLYTHERIN!' It shouted.

Ginny felt the shock reverberate down her spine to her very toes, but the immaculate, half-smile mask didn't falter. Maybe she was more Slytherin than she realised. Ginny stood and placed the Hat carefully back down before heading to the table of clapping green-robed students. Her eyes swept down the table and, sure enough, found the eerily familiar face of Tom Riddle, inspecting her blankly. He, too, was in sixth year and as his eyes met hers the other side of her mouth curved up and she slid into a spot opposite him.

'Hi,' she said pleasantly, turning to look each of her new classmates in the eye. 'I'm Ginny.'

'That's a very… muggle name,' the boy sat next to her sneered.

Ginny arched an eyebrow at him, chocolate eyes cold and hard. 'Why, what's yours?'

'Theodore Grant.'

'Huh, funny that,' Ginny said, turning away from him to pick a chicken leg from the dishes that had appeared.

'Hows my name funny?' Grant hissed at her.

'Last Theodore I knew, his father was a werewolf, his mother a blood traitor of the worst sort with shocking pink hair,' Ginny silently apologised to Tonks, whose hair she had greatly admired, when she grimaced in faked disgust. 'And the one before that, well. He was Muggle and died pleading for forgiveness.' Again, Ginny apologised to whatever Gods there might be that Teddy Jr. and Sr. would forgive her.

'And that is why you don't spite new girls, Ted,' a girl with dark brown hair said, her ebony eyes sparkling with glee. 'I've been trying to find a suitable insult to throw at him all day! I'm Eileen Prince, by the way.' The girl introduced herself, thrusting a hand towards Ginny, who shook it easily enough. 'Ted here is OK, once you get to know him. But damn is he annoying.'

'You love me for it,' the black haired boy drawled.

'Yeah… unluckily for me,' Eileen said, rolling her eyes. 'This is Yuna, Francis, David, Henrietta, Katrina, Marisse, Georgia and, of course, Tom.'

Ginny glanced round at the other sixth years, memorising each face as their name was being said. She didn't recognise any of them, except, perhaps, Eileen, whose eyes Ginny remembered from somewhere, but then Voldemort did not become powerful for a long time after he left school.

Each of the sixth years nodded or offered a hand, except for Riddle.

'Who are you?' he asked once the introductions were over, his voice exactly as Ginny remembered it.

'Ginevra Craigson.'

'That isn't your real name.'

'Why would you think that?'

'It doesn't suit you.'

'Should I be flattered or pissed off?'

'Pissed off,' Riddle said with a quirk of his lips.

'Good, because I am,' Ginny replied icily, even as a chill of a different sort ran down her spine, making her hair stand on end.

'And yet you haven't exploded.'

Ginny sniggered then, glancing across the hall to the Gryffindor table where she could see red hair so similar to hers among the varying shades of brown and black. 'I may look like a Weasley, doesn't mean I act like one.'

Her fellow sixth years all smirked in appreciation, each of them absorbed by the conversation, even as they pretended not to be.

'You know the Weasleys?' Riddle prompted, ignoring the implications of what she had said.

'There are so many of them it's hard not to know the Weasleys.'

Again Ginny was rewarded with a few more smirks.

'Even in Egypt?'

Ginny sat back suddenly, aware that she had been leaning across the table towards Riddle as he had been leaning towards her. 'There's a lot I don't know, Tom Riddle, but when one decides to arrive in a country with a political climate such as this one, even I am not stupid enough not to delve a little deeper into who has the power and who does not.'

'Bravo!' Eileen said, effectively shutting Riddle up. 'Tom often decides to go into inquisitorial mode, but for a newbie that was good.'

Riddle inclined his head to Ginny, who merely blinked impassively back at him. 'I may be a newbie with Riddle, here, but after the hours of stewing I got from Dumbledore and Dippet, you could say I had practise,' she said ruefully to Eileen.

'And after he told us all not to ask you too much,' one of the other girls, Henrietta, said, shaking her head.

'Am I allowed to eat now?' Ginny asked plaintively, causing several other sniggers. Not waiting for a reply, Ginny dug in, thinking a lot about the previous week. Dumbledore had not asked for a lot of details and had specifically not asked for her surname, but when he talked to the Headmaster, both he and Dippet had agreed it would be for the better if Ginny was introduced to the school at the Christmas feast and should be kept secluded until then.

Ginny had spent a lot of time reading. Someone had gone to Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley to get the books she needed and she'd been snuck out to get a wand, but other than that nothing exciting had happened. Ginny refused to take off the time turner, which had annoyed the two professors, but they said nothing. Ginny had spent a while practising with her new wand, but this one was better than her old one so she had next to no difficulty in wielding it, so she had, indeed, immersed herself in the current political state of affairs, chuckling to herself when it seemed this Minister – Crawley – seemed to fudge things up worse than Fudge.

Now Ginny looked at the faces around her and wondered if any of them would get out of this alive. She watched Eileen Prince with a growing sense of dread. The more she saw those eyes the more she remembered the eyes that had given her the time turner – the black eyes that had dared her not to try it. And Ginny knew what happened to Severus Snape's mother. Beaten to death by her abusive muggle partner. Not a pretty ending. But Ginny was here to change things. She only hoped she could change that fact too.

Ginny woke very early the next morning, the sunlight from the magicked windows cutting through her sleep and unceremoniously dumping her in consciousness. She rolled out of bed and stretched like a cat in the sunshine before heading in to the showers. It felt wonderful to be clean again, to be able to wash away the months of blood and grime from her skin. Ginny found herself humming a nonsense song of her childhood as the water droplets slashed over her. Better not to think about the dripping.

Changing quickly Ginny went to her bed and drew back the curtains completely, pulling a book from her bedside table she set it before her as she started brushing her hair, tugging at the unforgiving knots. Her night had once again been ravished by nightmares, but it was alright – it was OK because they weren't real anymore. When she saw Harry's broken face pleading up at her to stop the pain it wasn't real anymore. Not like it had been a week ago.

The other girls roused themselves later, not saying much to each other except quiet 'good morning's. Together the six of them headed down to breakfast, conversation slowly creeping up on them in a familiar way.

'So, Ginny,' Katrina, a petite, mousy-brown haired girl started. 'What's it like in Egypt?'

'Hot,' Ginny replied. 'Especially when you get friendly with the dragons,' she added quietly, thinking of the trips she'd had when she went to see her older brother.

'You're friends with dragons?'

Ginny chuckled at this, determined not to be pulled down into misery with old memories. 'Well, 'friends' is pushing it a bit, but we lived quite close to a small colony and they accepted our presence as we did theirs. They just got a little over-excited sometimes and accidentally almost burned the village down.' This story was true – there was indeed a village that fairly peacefully coexisted with dragons – Ginny had simply never been there.

The other girls accepted this and conversation soon turned to lighter topics – such as what they'd be having for breakfast. Ginny grinned along with them, pleasantly surprised when Eileen looped an arm through hers, a clear offering of friendship. As the six girls walked into the Hall every eye turned to them, though heads soon turned away.

'I love the fact everyone still notices our grand entrances, even after over five years here,' Yuna said, her English accent sounding slightly awkward coming from her dark, almost black, skin. 'I mean, I know we're perfect, but still.'

The other girls smirked at her comment and they headed to the Slytherin table, Eileen's arm in Ginny's stopping her slight falter when she headed to the 'wrong' side of the hall. Settling into the same place as the night before Ginny helped herself to food, with a cheery good morning to the sixth year boys, all of whom had already arrived. She could feel Riddle's gaze boring into her as she ate and talked, but ignored it for the most part, only sparing him a glance or two throughout the meal.

The post arrived later than what Ginny was used to, but when Dumbledore handed her her new timetable Ginny saw that the first lesson started later than it did in the future. She also couldn't help but notice that she and Riddle were the only Slytherins not to receive something in the post.

A dignified little snort coming from next to her, caused Ginny to glance at Theodore in curiosity, but he only waved a hand vaguely and set the newspaper in front of her.

LATE ARRIVAL
For the first time in two centuries Hogwarts has accepted a student not only halfway through the year, but also halfway through the training.
Ginevra Craigson, aged 16, joined Slytherin sixth years last night after an impromptu Sorting Ceremony.

Ginny rolled her eyes and passed the paper back, not bothering to read anymore. 'Honestly, the ministry is corrupt, a raid on a muggle club left fifteen dead, including one of our own, and what do they put on the front page? A sixteen year old Hogwarts student.'

'Why the emphasis on your age?' Yuna's twin brother, Matisse, asked.

'No reason,' Ginny said, averting her eyes as she realised her slip up. She was actually 17, and should by rights be in seventh year, but Ginny had been placed in sixth year at her own request.

Eileen seemed to notice Ginny's sudden moroseness and rubbed her shoulder sympathetically. 'What happened? she asked.

'I don't – I'd prefer not to say,' Ginny said, raising her head slowly.

'Of course, I'm sorry.'

'No, it's not your fault.' At that Ginny looked directly into Riddle's eyes. It wasn't Eileen's fault, it was his fault.

Riddle only stared stoically back at her.

'So what lessons do you have – what are you taking?' Eileen asked, clearly trying to change the subject.

'Nothing exciting, Charms, Transfiguration, Defence, Potions and, uh, a couple of private lessons.' Her words caused several eyebrows to shoot up and Ginny knew what they were thinking. They thought that she needed extra lessons to catch up on the work of the others. Little did they know that these extra classes were so that she didn't become bored covering the lessons she'd already taken last year.

'Don't worry, Ginny, I'll help you,' Georgia piped up, her square glasses sliding down her nose before she pushed them back up.

'Careful, Wright,' Riddle spoke up, still staring at Ginny. 'Craigson here may be helping you later this year instead.'

Georgia's mouth formed a small 'o' as she and the other Slytherins realised the implications of Riddle's words. Ginny smirked complacently at them for a moment as Georgia asked the question everyone seemed to want to, 'are you taking advanced classes?'

Ginny contemplated for a moment before telling them, 'this past term that you've all been snug at Hogwarts I've not exactly been curled up asleep.' And that was all she would say on the topic, despite further questions.

As breakfast ended and the hall started to lose its students Riddle once again spoke directly to Ginny. 'What do you have first?'

'Charms,' she replied shortly.

'Let me show you the way.'

Ginny inclined her head and allowed Riddle to lead her through corridors she probably knew better than he. The trip was short and wordless and the tension between the two of them was palpable. Just before they arrived at the Charms classroom Riddle pushed Ginny suddenly into an alcove, trapping her between the wall and himself.

'Who are you Ginevra Craigson?' he whispered forcefully in her ear.

'Who are you, Tom Riddle?' she replied with power to match his.

He said nothing, but his mind crushed against hers, trying to break down the walls that she had spent so long building. But Ginny rose up to meet him, attacking him as he attacked her. The thing was, Riddle had no real practise and Ginny – well, Ginny had been dating the Boy-Who-Lived, whose mental barriers had defended off Voldemort at the height of his supremacy.

Ginny found herself hurtling into one of Riddle's memories – it was at the orphanage and he only looked a couple of years younger than he was now, so it must have been over the summer holidays. Riddle was curled up in a tiny room, rocking slowly back and forth as the tears ran down his cheeks and blood ran down his back.

Wrenching herself back Ginny looked up into the horrified eyes of Tom Riddle – his cool façade and flawless mask momentarily forgotten.

'Who are you?' he asked again, his voice slightly hoarse.

Ginny found herself drawn to this tall, handsome young man as she had been in her first year at Hogwarts with his damnable diary. She had to remind herself that Hagrid was still at the school, which meant that it had not been written yet – the Chamber of Secrets had not yet been opened. Her hand shook slightly as she raised it to his face, as if to cup his cheek, though they did not touch.

'Very much lost and alone,' she said, then dropped her hand, fingers lightly grazing his jaw bone. She felt a shot of electricity run up her arm, but chose to ignore it in favour of moving past him and entering the Charms classroom.

Riddle span round in time to see the door close behind her, his mind flickering furiously from thought to thought as he tried to fathom just who exactly this girl was, for she was a better leglimens than himself and that scared him. There were memories and thoughts and knowledge that were too dangerous to fall in to enemy hands. That memory she had seen… Riddle shuddered as he imagined what she might tell others. There was nothing he could do, for she was sure to want to know more now. But maybe…

A wicked grin played across Riddle's lips before his mask fell back in place and he stalked through the corridors to his lesson.

Ginny gazed at the teacher, incredulity written across her face.

'You want me to prove I can do a successful cheering charm,' she said.

'Yes, Miss Craigson,' the teacher said through thinning lips as she narrowed her eyes.

Ginny rolled her eyes and flicked her wand in the direction of her partner, a Ravenclaw boy who had a stutter so pronounced Ginny hadn't been able to tell what his name was – Sam, or Simon or something. The boy slowly grinned, then chuckled and before long he was laughing hysterically, tears of mirth rolling down his cheeks as he tried to remain upright.

The teacher watched noiselessly before awarding Slytherin five house points.

'Aw what? All she did was a stupid cheering charm!' a Gryffindor complained.

'I am well aware of that fact, Mr Thompson, but it may well have escaped your notice that she did it silently. This is a skill that many wizards and witches never learn to do properly and is not part of the curriculum until –'

Ginny zoned out. Who cared? She was well aware that silent magic was something that many did not achieve, but Ginny was more actively interested in trying to perform wandless magic. So far she'd managed to levitate a gnut about a centimetre, but that was the best she could do and only for a couple of seconds.

After lessons she was met by Francis Parry, who also took charms that lesson.

'So can you do wandless as well?' he asked with no introduction.

'Do you have any change?' Ginny said, seemingly out of the blue.

Francis frowned before pulling a galleon out of his pocket and placed it on his palm.

Ginny contemplated for a moment. On the one hand a galleon was larger and heavier, but on the other the last time she had tried was about half a year ago. Silently she concentrated on the coin. It quivered a second before spinning out of Francis' hand and flying through the air as Ginny caught it gracefully and stuck it in her pocket. 'Thanks,' she said, grinning.

'That was – I mean – wow,' Francis finally managed to get out. 'But I'd like my money back.'

Ginny sniggered, putting the coin away in her robes. 'No way. That's about the best I can do so far, but I haven't been able to practise for a while.'

Francis shook his head. 'Tom was right about you.'

Her head snapped round to look at Francis in surprise. 'What did he say?' she asked, trying desperately to keep her voice calm.

He looked at her curiosly for a moment before answering, 'he just said you were different.'

'We're all different, Parry. Nature made every single one of us unique,' Ginny replied with a wave of her hand.

'Ironic, isn't it?' he agreed. 'And, please, call me Francis.'

Ginny nodded and they walked in silence to Defence. Francis seemed to want to say something, but by the time he decided to say it Riddle had appeared and he promptly shut his mouth.

'It was nice talking to you, Ginny,' he said politely, nodded once to Riddle, then set off in the opposite direction.

'Miss Craigson,' Riddle greeted.

'Mr Riddle.'

'So, tell me, are you an animagus as well as a leglimens?' Riddle asked conversationally, though his voice was dripping with venom.

'No,' Ginny replied calmly, propping herself against the wall and half closing her eyes lazily. 'But then, neither are you,' she pointed out.

'How would you know that?'

'Because otherwise you wouldn't have asked,' Ginny answered confidently.

Riddle merely raised an eyebrow at her.

'You feel threatened by the fact that I could, if I wanted to, step inside your mind and take what I like.'

Riddle did not respond, just continued to watch her through slightly narrowed, bright blue eyes.

'I suppose,' Ginny said tiredly, 'that you want me to promise never to read your thoughts again.'

'But you're not going to.'

'It's nice to know other people's secrets,' she said simply.

'You want to blackmail me?'

'Oh, I could if I wanted, but what's the point?' Ginny opened her eyes then and looked directly into Riddle's. 'What could you possibly tell me that I can't find out for myself?' she asked, tugging at the corners of his mind, not really looking or attacking, just teasing.

His face did not change, but his eyes gleamed with some unidentifiable emotion that had Ginny grinning smugly at him. Together the two of them walked into the Defence classroom and slipped into their chairs at the very centre of the class, every movement in synchronisation, whether they noticed or not.

'Welcome, class,' the professor spoke up, causing the class to fall quiet. 'As most of you know, we were working on the Patronus charm at the end of last term – have you all been practising?'

A murmured 'yes' swung about the class and Ginny glanced sideways to notice with surprise that Riddle had a deep set frown in place. 'What form does yours take?' she asked in the moment of noise.

Riddle glanced sideways at her, his eyes shooting knives. That was when Ginny understood. Riddle couldn't cast the Patronus because he had no happy memory he could use as a base. Ginny did a one shouldered shrug and placed her hand in the air as the professor asked who could cast a full bodied Patronus.

'Ah, Miss Craigson. Perhaps you would like to demonstrate for us?'

'Certainly, Professor.' Ginny stood and sent her mind spinning back to that one perfect night with Harry. Then, with a noiseless flick of her wand her Patronus burst forth. Ginny's face was immaculate, despite her inner turmoil as, rather than a horse, a phoenix burst forth from her wand. She knew what it meant, of course. A phoenix – the rebirth of hope. Something in her trembled and broke as she watched it soar above the heads of her classmates, but another part of her filled with unequivocal joy. If there was such a thing as fate and signs, this was it. She stretched out an arm for it to land on and as soon as it touched her the Phoenix dissipated, leaving only memories and a classroom full of awed and impressed faces.

Ginny smirked at the teacher, who congratulated her.

'Forgive me for asking – what memory did you use?'

Ginny sat down heavily and looked up sadly. 'The last night before everything ended,' she said truthfully and would say no more.

'How can you do that?' Riddle hissed at her as the Professor set them to their task.

'I've known a lot of grief, Riddle, but that grief hurts all the more because it was punctuated and remembered by the times of normality and hope.'

'Grief?' he asked incredulously. 'What do you know of grief?'

In her mind's eye Ginny saw exactly, with precise details, Harry's face craning up to her and his cracked lips whispering to her – They'll finish me tomorrow, love. Then the image was gone. It lasted less than a second, but it did not escape Riddle's notice, the shadow that swept across Ginny's face and the unadulterated pain and suffering in her eyes in that moment. 'One day I'll show you,' she said, a small smile hovering for a moment, then disappearing.

Ginny took a long, sweeping glance of the room and almost laughed aloud at their pitiful attempts at Patronuses. And she had mastered this spell in her fourth year. 'Riddle,' she said suddenly. 'Try it.'

Riddle rolled his eyes, but concentrated and muttered the spell, causing a weak white mist to appear at the tip of his wand before it disappeared. 'It's the best I can do,' he drawled, falling back into sarcasm as a protection method.

'What's the thing you hold in most esteem in your life?' Ginny asked him bluntly, her question asking for emotions, but her tone leaving no room for excuses.

'Power,' Riddle answered smoothly, never missing a beat, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

'At what point have you felt the most powerful?' Ginny questioned him, throwing up a hand as he opened his mouth to reply. 'No! I don't want to know when or what it was.' she looked at him in disgust. 'Come here,' she ordered and he stood slowly, moving around the desk.

Ginny stood behind him, her body not quite touching his, then moved her hand to grip his wand wrist. 'Hold that memory in the forefront of your mind. That sense of glory, superiority… now,' Ginny's voice quietened to a whisper, 'say it.'

The words fell from his lips as Ginny stepped forward so she was flush against him, her hand directing his as he flicked it and a bright white Patronus sprang forward. They stood and watched as the dragon rampaged forward across the classroom, knocking desks aside with ease and sending the students running.

Ginny sighed, releasing a long, slow breath across Riddle's shoulder, sending a shudder down his spine. Then she stepped away, leaving his back and wrist feeling awfully cold. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her raise her wand too, until suddenly his dragon was joined by her phoenix, tempting it, pushing it, teasing it, scolding it, rewarding it until the dragon abandoned its quest of the students and joined the fire bird in its dance of the air currents.

It seemed right that the dragon would return to Ginny and offer its gratitude before returning to its master – as right, perhaps, as that of the journey of the phoenix first to Riddle, then Ginny.

Riddle watched the display with fascinated amusement, for a while his mask lay forgotten as he watched a piece of his happiness dance with a piece of hers. Then it slipped easily back in place before any but Ginny noticed it was gone.

'Thank you,' he said coolly.

Ginny's face remained impassive, but her chocolate eyes swirled with delighted satisfaction – not at his thanks, but because he had been able to do it. He, the man who had killed thousands, he who had murdered and molested because he felt like it, he who would be given the title 'The Dark Lord', had been able to successfully pull of a charm that relied solely on the pure righteousness of a situation. But no, not some unnameable he. Just Riddle. Just Riddle, the orphan boy had cast his first full bodied Patronus.

'You're welcome,' she replied.

Then the two of them moved in that instinctive synchronisation they shared and sank, together, into their separate chairs, each regarding the havoc the classroom had become with cool detachment. Maybe they were thinking and feeling the same thing, but from their impassive faces it was impossible to tell. An impossible that suddenly seemed, in that tiny, slither of a moment, entirely possible.

They made an impressive pair, the red haired girl and the blue eyed boy. She was considerably shorter than he was, but somehow their strides matched – their every movement matched. When he blinked, in the exact same moment, so did she. When she breathed so did he. They walked together to the Dungeons and, for the first time in anyone's memory Riddle took a partner in Potions.

Ginny was unaware of this fact but still sat pensively, forgetting for a moment that the foreboding Professor Severus Snape would not be born for another ten years, let alone teach. She had never been amazing at Potions, but perhaps with a little better tutelage…

'I'm preparing to be impressed,' Riddle hummed into her ear as the class waited in whispered quiet for the teacher to arrive.

Ginny half turned her head towards him, a slight frown marring her forehead. 'Potions is my worst subject,' she informed him quietly, instantly wondering the wisdom of her words – perhaps it would be better for him not to know her weaknesses?

But Riddle did not show any emotion at her declaration, merely staring at the door that now opened to reveal a younger, thinner, more handsome Professor Slughorn. Ginny watched him with slightly raised eyebrows – her only show of surprise. In the back of her mind it scared Ginny how easily she had slipped into Riddle's approval, how easily she had forged her own Slytherin mask to slip into place whenever needed. But another part new that really she'd already had the mask – that it had been in the making for years, since the moment she had met Riddle in the diary – and it was only now that she was putting it in place.

Draught of the Living Death. Working individually. Ginny sighed and flipped the book shut. How many times over the past years did she have to make this potion to save someone from near death? It was impossible to know. But it stopped everything and it had saved so many people from bleeding to death before the necessary help could get there. Ginny was no healer, but she knew how to save people.

Everyone had believed that Snape was a traitor, but his book had revealed so many little helps and tricks that, despite Hermione's annoyance, Harry had taught Ginny from that book. Ron had laughed and distracted Hermione with a kiss or a promise and Ginny and Harry had laughed together, sharing sweet kisses over the cauldron as they worked together to perfect whatever potion it was.

Ginny worked in sombre silence, ignoring the cold presence of Riddle at her elbow. Stir twice clockwise, add the Amazonian bluebottle juice, stir once anti-clockwise and throw in a dash of grey salt to counteract the powdered dragon tooth that Riddle tried to sabotage it with. Ginny said nothing, working in silence as she relived all those precious little moments that meant nothing, but so, so much. She did not cry, did not pause from her work until Riddle slipped bloomslang skin into the potion. Not missing a beat Ginny through in the neutralisation before turning to Riddle in fury.

'Do you have any idea the kind of shit that could have done?'

Riddle gazed blankly back at her.

'If I hadn't moved quickly the potion wouldn't have just fizzed a bit, it would have imploded with search a force it would have sucked every single person this room into the singularity, before exploding to leave nothing but stone walls and lots of dust,' Ginny snarled at him, her voice echoing into the sudden silence of the room.

'Well then it's a good thing you acted quickly, isn't it?' he replied with a smug question, a self-righteous smirk gracing his features.

Not quite understanding what came over her Ginny punched him in the mouth, revelling in the way he span backwards from her and slammed against the desk.

'You little bitch.' He jumped up, wand appearing in his hand.

Ginny didn't move. For a moment the class though perhaps he had put her in a body bind curse, but a very slow smile spread itself across her face. 'Are you going to hex me, Tom?' she asked him, using his first name for the first time. 'Are you going to give me the brunt of your anger and leave me in the hospital wing for weeks? Or perhaps you're going to forego the injuries and simply kill me?' She spoke in honeyed tones inlaid with poison. 'But no. I don't think you're going to do anything. I've stared death in the face, Tom, and I'm not looking at him now.'

The class watched in trepidation at the new girl calmly staring down the wand of someone whose temper was infamous and had just exploded in her direction. Perhaps she was brave. Perhaps she was just foolish. It didn't cross anyone's mind until much later what a Gryffindor the Slytherin had been.

But for now Riddle slowly lowered his wand and let out a true, full hearted laugh. The sound was odd coming from Riddle's lips, as though he'd never laughed properly before.

'You, Miss Ginevra Craigson, are something else,' Riddle said softly just as the door banged open from the supply cupboard and the Professor bounded back in.

'Now what's going on here?' he asked warily at the silence and grim expressions.

Riddle shot Ginny a side long look and they both, at the same moment with the same too-innocent smiles, said, 'nothing, sir.'

Slughorn regarded them through narrowed eyes, but let the moment pass with an order to the students to bottle their samples and put them on his desk. Ginny added one last ingredient and let the potion simmer for a moment as she packed up before bottling it and giving it to the teacher.

'I'm impressed, Miss Craigson,' Slughorn stopped her before she moved away.

'Why sir?'

'Though there is no proof of the matter, Riddle manages normally to sabotage every potion close to him. For you to survive the lesson with a perfect sample…' he trailed off, shaking his head.

'I've used this potion a lot in recent years,' was all Ginny offered as an explanation.

'You know a lot about poisons?' Riddle asked, placing his sample on the desk and introducing himself to the conversation.

'The Draught isn't a poison,' Ginny told him calmly. 'More often than not this potion is used to save lives than take them.'

Slughorn gave Ginny a curious look, but Riddle merely smirked at her. Tired of the wordless conversation passing between them Ginny turned away and cleaned up the rest of her things, before leaving the room. As the door swung shut behind her Riddle turned back to face his teacher.

'Professor, I've been meaning to ask you about something.'

Ginny walked into the Great Hall and sat down between Theodore and Katrina, staring at the empty space opposite her.

'So how has your first day been so far?' Eileen asked.

'Reasonable. Charms and Defence was easy enough, but Riddle was being a right git in Potions just now.'

'Oh, Riddle's always a git in potions,' Georgia piped up in the horrible nasal way of hers.

Ginny didn't bother to pose a question, the girl was obviously keen to share her knowledge.

'It's his worst subject, so he spends the whole lesson slipping the wrong ingredients into other people's cauldrons. He's still way better than average, just not the best in the year.'

'Why, who's the best?' Ginny asked curiously.

Eileen Prince smiled smugly and brought her goblet to her lips in an attempt to hide it. Ginny laughed out loud at that – she should have guessed! Snape had become one of the youngest teachers in decades and he had to have learnt it from someone – and it was definitely not Slughorn. Ginny shuddered as she remembered the 'Slug Club' and prayed that she wouldn't be invited this year.

'But there's a price – I have to go to a horrendous club of Slughorn's.' Eileen echoed Ginny's shudder.

Matisse, who was sat next to Eileen, offered her a sympathetic slap on the shouder as the other Slytherins sniggered into their food. Ginny glanced up as Slughorn entered the hall and made his way up to the teachers' table, followed soon after by Riddle.

'Get what you want?' Ginny asked him.

Riddle sat down opposite her and regarded her with a guarded expression for a long moment before answering with a simple, blunt, 'no.'

Ginny shrugged and smirked. 'I'm sure there are others with the knowledge you're after,' she said.

'How do you know it's knowledge I'm after?'

'There are only two things someone might want from Slughorn that you can't steal. One's knowledge. The other's sex,' Ginny replied wryly. 'And considering he smells of at least two different types of perfume, I'm guessing he's straight. Not that that would stop you, if you really wanted it, but I'm guessing you're heterosexual too.'

'Why, do I also smell of perfume?'

'No, but I'm sitting next to one of the fittest guys in school–'

'Thanks,' Theodore inserted.

'–no problem, and you've spent the entire conversation staring at me, not checking him out.'

'We've been going to school together for five years and share a dormitory, what's to say I don't 'check him out' in private?' Riddle asked, clearly very amused by the conversation.

'Tom Marvolo Riddle, have you ever – either consciously or unconsciously – looked at another guy and felt the need to take that individual into the nearest alcove and have your wicked way with him?'

'No, but–'

'Have you ever felt the need to shove him into an alcove at all?'

'No…'

'Then my point, Riddle, is proven. You're straight. Now that we're over that pointless discussion, I'll tell you again, that whatever knowledge you're after can surely be found elsewhere.'

Riddle stared at Ginny for a moment longer, before standing abruptly and leaving the room.

'Ooh, you've pissed him off no end,' Katrina said, giving Ginny a friendly elbow in the ribs.

Ginny started digging into her meal. 'About time someone won an argument against him,' was all she said.

'Why did he want to prove he wasn't straight anyway,' Theodore asked from Ginny's other side.

Ginny didn't answer, knowing full well that Riddle had been trying to distract her from the fact that he had been trying to get some kind of knowledge out of Slughorn. Upon his realisation that Ginny could not be so easily put off he had left. He had also, of course, wanted to win the argument.

Eileen shook her head and smiled a small, rueful smile. 'Whatever you're doing, Ginny, be warned – Riddle's one scary bastard when you get on his wrong side. If I were you I'd leave well alone.'

Ginny offered her a small smile back, but knew that even if she wasn't trying to do anything and everything to stop Riddle becoming Voldemort she wouldn't have been able to back down now. Just like in her first year she found herself being lured closer and closer to Riddle's spider web of lies and half truths, of secrets and dreams. But this time Ginny was determined to be more than a stupid, bumbling fly. This time she would be another spider and draw him as much to her and her secrets as she was to him. She already knew it was starting to work, but she had to tread very, very carefully. One wrong move and the web would collapse and this time Harry wouldn't be there to save her.

After lunch Ginny had the rest of the day off, so she decided to pay a visit to the Room of Requirement. So far as she knew, no one in this time zone knew of its existence and Ginny needed some time alone to sort out her thoughts. Thinking of the diary made her wonder – when was it dated? The current date was 1943, so if only… if only she could remember. Had Riddle already opened it and killed Myrtle?

Myrtle? Of course! Ginny quickly changed direction and ran for the second floor girl's lavatory. Just as she hurtled around the last corner Ginny saw Riddle emerging from – the bathroom!

Ginny quickly darted back round the corner and ducked into a nearby classroom, casting a quick silencing spell around herself and the door so she could shut it without being heard. This was it. Ginny listened to his footsteps walk slowly towards the door, then pause. For what seemed like an eternity she stood stock still, waiting for him to open the door and accuse her with those hard blue eyes of hers, but he walked on past.

Releasing a long breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding Ginny choked back a sob when she finally took in that this was the year that 'Moaning Myrtle' would die. The year Hagrid would be expelled. The year that Tom Riddle would open the Chamber of Secrets and commit the first of many murders.

A/N I realise this is not an original plot, but since I really, really wanted to read a time travelling story where Ginny goes back and stops Voldemort before he even happens and couldn't find a decent one (except for Final Riddles, by Intricacy, which is absolutely amazing, but unfinished) I decided to write my own. It was meant to be a one shot, but when I finished writing this bit and realised it was almost 10 000 words and I hadn't even begun, I guess it's going to have to be longer than that. No promises when the next chapter will be up, but I'm sure it won't be long. I don't have a beta for this story, so you'll have to excuse and typos/plot errors etc.

Hope you all enjoyed it and please leave a review!

Cal
xxx