Return to Eden

Return to Eden

Chapter 21: Things Are A-Changing

"You've got the poison and I've got the remedy."

- Jason Mraz "The Remedy"

Ginevra, how lovely to speak with you again. Tell me, how are you?

Pleasantries won't work on me, Tom. I haven't forgotten what you've done.

Yes, I figured as much. A pity, too, for I had been expecting you.

Ginny watched the inky words sink back into the page with a distinct feeling of trepidation pressing down upon her. It made her very uneasy and she glanced around the dorm room as if she expected the shadows to jump out and sink their teeth into her. Shaking her head to clear her mind of such thoughts but unable to brush off her anxiety, she wrote her next words with a distinctly shaky hand.

You were expecting me?

Yes, Ginevra.

Why?

Isn't it obvious? I might only be memory within an object, but I can feel the rumblings just as well as you.

The war?

Of course. It will start soon. Much sooner than you probably expected.

What's happening, Tom? What can you tell me?

Well, I am very weak.

Nibbling her bottom lip nervously between her teeth, Ginny knew it was the time that she had been worried about all along. It was time to make a decision, one that had the potential to help but in the same instance bring severe consequences down on her. Weighing the good against the bad as well as Luna's words, she finally made her choice and her lips straightened into a grim line of fortitude.

What can I do to help?

I need some of your blood.

You want me to open a vein?! So you can control me again?!

It will only strengthen me, not the spell. I'm sorry, but that's the only way.

Fine. Give me a minute.

Ginny reached towards her bedside table and pulled out the drawer. Inside was a gilded letter opener that had been a gift from her brother, Percy. Not the best item for such a task, but it would have to do under the circumstances. She sharpened it with a quick flick from her wand and looked down warily at the small blade she'd made. Taking a deep breath, the redhead slashed it across her wrist abruptly, trying to block out the sting when it broke through the skin.

The thick, red fluid started bubbling towards the surface and before it could drip on her sheets, she turned her hand over the page, wrist down, and gazed with perverse fascination as it seeped into the parchment without leaving a trace. She squeezed the wound, making the drops come faster, and continued to do so until she felt emphatically lightheaded.

She closed the cut up with a wave of her wand as she watched the last crimson streak fade into nothingness. It gave her a chill down her spine, and the magnitude of what she'd just done fell upon her shoulders like a smothering burden.

That's all I can give, Tom.

It's enough.

Now, tell me what I want to know.

----

The Room of Requirement resembled the interior of a black hole at the moment. Absolute emptiness spanned the space from wall to wall and floor to ceiling. The darkness was all-encompassing as it threatened to swallow even the smallest speck of light that dared to shine in its entirety.

Luna liked it that way.

It was as she wished her mind to be. Vacant, still, and quiet.

She was standing face-forward against the far wall, molding her body against the cool stone and letting it give her some relief from the intense feelings coursing through her body. Her forehead was damp, and beads of sweat danced upon her face. Her school robe had been thrown off, and the clothes she wore underneath stuck to her skin, trying to hold her down and stifling her lungs with their oppressive weight.

If she didn't move too much and tried not to breathe, then the scenes passing across her mind would halt for a moment, just a moment, but those moments were what possessed her to hold onto the shreds of lucidness that she still had.

Since the death of the Zabini girl, her visions had been coming tenfold. Sometimes one at a time, sometimes five, but they were continuous, ongoing, and unforgiving in their brutality.

But the absence of remorse was worst of all.

She'd done what she had to do, yes, but she had expected to feel guilty afterwards instead of feeling justified. She had betrayed his trust in her and twisted it in such a way that she'd caused his death.

It wouldn't be long now before they found the body. Luna had just prevented Ginny from going up to the scene of the crime. It was the redheaded girl who had been fated to die, but if she saved her, then someone else had to die in her place. It was the way it worked, a system of balance.

The Ravenclaw had picked him because of the eventual fate she knew awaited him, which made her want to cry every time she saw him. That particular vision had been one of the worst she'd had to endure over the years. Luna had felt not only his pain, but the death of his soul.

No, better to get it done, quick and clean.

And she'd been prepared to do just that, even so much as to give him the push, but the railing had done all the work. She'd asked him to meet her at the Astronomy Tower after curfew, and she'd watched with bated breath as he ambled across the surface, unknowingly coming to a stop in the place where the railing would come loose, where she'd seen Ginny standing. As he leaned against it, shifting his weight against the bar, she'd had to suppress the urge to warn him and instead gazed as he slipped down the drop, his arms flailing, unable to react to the sudden fall.

Her eyes were clear as she'd watched, lacking the fog that usually completed her dreamy appearance. It was for the best.

She remembered that as she stood unmoving in the Room of Requirement. The fog was back now. It permeated her mind with its thickness, unrelenting as her mind passed through each separate scene, and she couldn't keep her breath from coming in pants as the anguish shot through her like bolts of quicksilver. Even the marrow in her bones trembled from the force of the suffering overwhelming her.

Luna couldn't recall the last foresight she'd had that didn't revolve around pain or death or war. It was an onslaught on her sanity to bear the secrets of the harsh future, a test of willpower. One that she was slowly failing day by day.

Suddenly, one scene broke through all the others, nearly knocking her off her feet with its strength.

A single gravestone centered in darkness because someone had killed the sun.

Here lies Harry J. Potter

Brave defender and treasured friend

Born: 31 July 1980

Died: 5 January 1998

Luna gasped as she did fall over this time, and the fog parted. That was only a little over two months away. There was absolutely no way she could let Harry die. At that moment, a plan formed in her mind and clarity overtook her thoughts. The significance was not lost on her clever instincts.

Once again, she knew what she had to do.

----

Hermione was utterly exhausted.

Following her startling conversation with the Lady de Winter in the sitting room, her grandmother had insisted they go down to the gardens to finish the talk on this very fine October day. Hermione, already knowing better than to argue with her, trailed behind the older woman as she continued to go on and on about her duties and the royal family.

The brunette had tried to listen, honestly, but she was having a hard time not being distracted by that little piece of information about her having to get married. She was too young to be married. Hell, she was too young to be engaged. She wasn't even out of school yet, but the great Lady de Winter thinks it, so 'shudder, gasp' it must be true. Hermione rolled her eyes at her train of thought.

After they seated themselves on the nearest bench in the rose garden, Lady de Winter rattled off the names and ranks of all the people in Hermione's family who, according to the older woman, she would be meeting soon. The Head Girl couldn't ever remember being so tired as her fatigue set in deeper each time she played witness to another grand wave of the Lady's arms.

Once she met Bianca, a frail slip of a girl who was a few years younger than Hermione herself, the sun began to set, and the brunette begged her grandmother off, saying she would speak with her tomorrow. Finally, the older woman relented, though very reluctantly, and they began to trudge back to the manor.

On the way, Hermione noticed something extremely odd.

In each place she stepped, a small flower popped out of the earth. Irises, daisies, sweet peas, roses, crocuses, lilies, and violets appeared in wake of her every footstep.

Hermione turned to see if anybody else had noticed, but the rest were more than halfway back to the manor. She glanced back at the flowers, and as they seemed to wave at her in the wind, an unexpected thought occurred to her. Deciding to test her theory, she stepped on the same place twice and watched in interest as two petunias sprouted up.

It was her power.

The Head Girl smiled as the realization overtook her. Then, a sudden bout of dizziness swept through her, and her hands flew out to steady her from falling. The world swam before her eyes, and she knew she needed to get back to the manor so she could lay down.

Hermione hurried back as quick as she could, trying not to trip on anything in her path. Upon entering, she went straight to her room without speaking to anyone and crawled underneath her sheets to feel the cool relief they presented her. Closing her eyes, she felt her body begin to relax and start slipping into a deep slumber when she was awakened by a very familiar voice.

"Hello, Hermione."

Shooting up from her position on the bed, she surveyed the boy in front of her with excessive surprise decorating her face.

"Neville! What are you doing here?!"

The boy pushed himself off the wall he'd been leaning against and offered his old friend a comforting smile. Hermione realized that he appeared older than the last time she'd seen him, more mature somehow; he looked more handsome than she remembered, but he still possessed his boyish charm.

"I came to talk to you."

"Well, it'll have to wait until I get back to school. If Draco catches you in here, he'll throttle you for sure."

"Don't worry, Hermione. He can't see me. No one else can but you."

Her left eyebrow lifted as she studied him, her expression conveying that this was certainly a crazy person she was watching. Trying not to make an sudden movements, she climbed slowly out of bed and stood facing him.

"What do you mean?" she asked in a soft whisper.

Chuckling to himself at her actions, he shook his head as he spoke. "I'm dead."

Hermione's hand flew to her mouth as if trying to catch the gasp that escaped her lips as tears began brimming from within the pools of her brown eyes. "N - Neville, I'm so -"

"Don't be. Not your fault, and anyway, it was for the best." He shrugged his shoulders this time as he began walking around the room, appraising the contents with interest. "So this is what the inside of Malfoy Manor looks like. Huh." Lifting his hand, he let it trail over the smooth, polished cherry of her dresser. "No wonder your boy toy prances around the school like he owns it. This is nice stuff."

Her hand was trembling as she clasped her chest, willing all her emotions to stay in check. "Neville, how can you say that?! How can you be so -"

"What? Nonchalant? I'm dead, not a whole lot I can do about it." He raised his arms by his sides and shrugged yet again. "Stick a fork in me, I'm done."

"B - But, you were so young. So much left unfinished, just like Blaise."

As he flicked his hair out of his eyes, Neville crossed his arms over his chest and sat down in her desk chair. His expression reflected the dread he felt about having to explain everything.

He sighed. "Look, when you die, it's like you just understand. Everything sort of falls into place, you know?" He waited until she nodded, indicating that she was following him. "All that bothered you on this plane of existence is gone. You understand your place and why you died at a certain moment and the future that had been stretching before you just falls away. It doesn't matter anymore."

Hermione thought differently and she tried to argue. "But -"

"No, Hermione. You have to accept it." He ran his hand through his hair, making it stand up on end. "Luna did me a favor by letting me fall off the Astronomy Tower. She knew then what I know now. My destiny was the same as my parents. A year from now I would have been sharing the same ward in St. Mungo's, just like your mother, and just as far gone."

A crease appeared on her forehead at the mention of her mother, but she digested his words with an inquisitiveness that befitted only her. "You fell? But wouldn't you -"

"Bounce?"

She nodded once again at their shared thought.

Neville shrugged once again, something that was beginning to get on Hermione's nerves. "I just didn't. The Old Power decided to take me, and here I am."

Her eyebrow went up again at that. "Yes, which leads to the question 'why are you here'?"

"I'm here to be your guardian." The boy smiled at her look of confusion.

"My what?"

"Your guardian. It's sort of like a spirit guide, to help you with the struggle ahead. Malfoy has one already, and now you do, too."

"He does? And who -" Her voice trailed off, and she immediately comprehended what had been going on for the last couple of days. "Blaise," she spoke with absolute conclusiveness. "Blaise is Draco's guardian. That's how he knew who Madison's father was, Blaise told him."

Neville was grinning at her in a way that made her nostalgic for the old days when things were much simpler. "Yep, you hit the nail right on the head. Don't forget that you have separate guardians though. You won't ever see her, and he won't ever see me."

"Why you?"

"I think the Old Power has a sense of humor. You took care of me in my life, now it's time for me to do the opposite in my death."

She nodded as she took a deep breath, in through her nose and exhaled out her mouth. "Okay, I'm ready."

"Ready?"

"Yes, for you to guide me."

Neville laughed at her like she was the funniest thing he'd ever seen. Taking great gasps of air, he tried to calm himself enough to explain. "It doesn't work like that, Hermione. As soon as you step out of this room, you'll be on your journey."

The brunette smiled sheepishly. "Oh."

"Don't worry, I'll be around when you need me." Neville strolled over to where she stood and enveloped her in a friendly hug. Leaning down, he whispered in her ear, "Don't let the boy forget."

And then, he was gone.

As Hermione sat back down on her bed, she wondered if he had ever been there at all. Her mind racing, the Head Girl hopped up and rushed downstairs in search of Draco. She had so much to tell him, about Neville and her power, and questions as well.

She found him standing in his father's study, along with Lucius, and their attention was directed downward to something she couldn't see. Stepping closer and circling around, she saw it. The black mar upon the white skin of Draco's left forearm, staining it with its impurity, was staring her in the face. Tears descended down her cheeks as she raised her eyes to his and betrayal reverberated from their chocolate depths.

Her voice was a whisper, "What have you done?"

Hermione didn't give either man a chance to respond as she turned on her heel and ran out of the manor, not looking back.

----

"Say I do believe you."

Pansy started to look worried as she watched him pace around the classroom they'd picked to have their discussion in. "Okay."

"Why would you come to me with all this?" Harry looked quite upset about everything she'd just told him about the war and also the tension running high in the school.

"I told you already, I trust you." The blonde girl was wringing her hands in her lap, wishing for a cigarette, as she continued to watch him pace and run his hand through his already messy raven hair.

Harry sighed. "Right." Piercing her with his emerald gaze, he thought ahead in his mind and made a decision. "You know, I'm probably going to regret this, but I think you might be on to something."

Pansy tossed her head back and sniffed disdainfully. "Of course I am."

The Gryffindor just shook his head and rubbed his hands together. "Okay, well, the sooner the better, yeah? So, we better get started."

The Slytherin nodded as she jumped down from her perch on the window and started for the door, Harry following close behind. The two teenagers came to a halt when they heard shouts and running in the corridor. They glanced at each other as the same thought passed through their minds.

It's starting

Harry opened the door and grabbed up the first person in arm's reach. "What's going on?"

"Luna Lovegood just confessed to the murder of Neville Longbottom."

----

If Fred and George could see me now.

Ginny was skulking around Knockturn Alley collecting ingredients for a potion Tom had assured her would make certain details of the impending war appear to her.

She'd cast a glamour on herself before leaving the castle to Floo from Hogsmeade to the Leaky Cauldron. It wouldn't do to have anybody see her red hair and instantly pinpoint her as a Weasley, especially with the way everyone felt about her family after Ron's actions. So, she was a brown-eyed blonde for the moment wearing a robe absent of any school patch. No reason to be identified as a Gryffindor down Knockturn either.

Once she had all the items she needed, and spent the better part of her money saved back from Christmases and birthdays, Ginny went back to the room she'd taken in the Leaky Cauldron and started to piece together her potion after lifting the glamour.

She added the last two ingredients, sixteen drops of dragon tears and an Animus Orb, just as Tom had told her to do. After setting it to simmer for seven minutes, she took out the page she'd brought with her and started to write.

I did everything exactly as you told me, Tom.

You found an Animus Orb, then? Was it difficult?

The man in Borgin's had one. He'd been using it as a paperweight. Will this really work, Tom? It isn't a potion I've ever heard or read about.

That's because it's very old, and modern magic has probably forgotten about it.

And it'll show me what Voldemort is planning?

Yes.

Ginny couldn't shake the anxious feeling she'd had all day, but Luna had told her to talk to Tom and listen to what he said.

Okay, Tom. It's finished. What do I do now?

Dip the page in the potion and set it on the floor. You'll see everything in a few minutes.

Putting her quill down, she moved to do what he said, letting the potion soak into the parchment before laying it flat on the ground. She stepped back from it, not wanting to get caught in the flare-up if something went wrong.

Suddenly, a hand appeared from the page. It was being seemingly pulled from the parchment, lifting the rest of the body in its wake. Ginny was gripped with dread as she inched further back, soon hitting the wall of the room. The ability to speak left her completely as the object of her waking nightmares stood before her once again.

Sixteen year-old Tom Riddle stretched, airing out all the kinks in his new flesh and blood body, and turned to pin the quivering Weasley girl with his wicked gaze. The smirk of all smirks drew across his cruelly handsome face.

"Why, Ginevra, you look like you've seen a ghost."