Stormseeker: Unwanted Destiny

Chapter 6: One Quiet Year

---

First year classes again. I decide to try practicing the spells wandlessly in hopes of actually getting some use out of the classes. Silent would be nice, too, but I'm less concerned about that. I just don't want to have to rely on a wand so much.

And then there's Potions. A class I was always rubbish with. This is a good opportunity to get better at that. I had underestimated its usefulness before, but now I realize that it's a very useful subject to know.

"Ah, Potter, our new celebrity," Snape says. "Tell me, Potter, what would you get if I combined powdered asphodel root and an infusion of wormwood?"

Oh Merlin, this again. And I don't even remember. How embarrassing. "I don't know, sir."

"I see, Potter," Snape says. "Can you tell me what the difference is between wolfsbane and monkshood?"

"Oh, I know that one," I say. "They're the same plant, sir, also called aconite."

"And where can you find a bezoar?"

"In the stomach of a goat, sir," I reply. "It can be used to cure many poisons." I pull one out of my bag and hold it up in the air. "I have one right here, sir."

"Might I ask why you feel the need to carry a bezoar around with you?" Snape wonders.

"I've generally found it better to have one and not need it, than need it and not have it," I say.

"Well, at least you're not a complete dunderhead," Snape admits reluctantly.

---

"Mr. Potter, Miss Black, are you having difficulties with the lesson?" McGonagall asks us.

"No, ma'am," I say. "I'm just trying do the transfiguration wandlessly."

"And I'm trying to do it in Sanskrit," Cassie says.

McGonagall stares at us for a long moment, and says, "Show me that you can do it normally, and I won't complain of what you spend the remainder of the period doing."

Cassie and I wave our wands at our matchsticks in the regular manner, easily transfiguring them into needles. McGonagall looks them over and gives a nod, and we transfigure them back into matchsticks again.

"Ravenclaws..." she mutters. "A point for each of you. Carry on."

It's probably just as well that Hermione isn't in our class. We're not even being especially subtle about how far ahead of the other students we are. Well, we try, but as soon as a teacher demands a demonstration, there's only so far we can fake incompetence.

The real highlight of the year is the Theatre Club. I even manage to drag Cassie and Draco in as well. It's not until we start practicing at it that I realize just how bad I really am at acting.

"Harry," Gemma Farley says. "Your intonation is completely wrong. You're supposed to be depressed here. Try it again."

I try it again, with exaggerated depressiveness, but that doesn't impress Gemma either. "How am I supposed to sound depressed without overdoing it?"

"Put yourself into your role," Gemma says. "Become your character. Act how they would act. Hmm, maybe we should do some improvization as practice. Harry! You're a grumpy merchant. Cassie! You're an unreasonable customer. Begin."

"I require three barrels of newt's eyes," Cassie says. "And I need them by Tuesday!"

"Uh... I don't have that many newt's eyes in stock," I say hurriedly, looking around nervously, panicky.

"And they must be freshly pickled," Cassie says. "Nothing that's been laying around."

"I... um... crap," I mutter.

"Come on, Harry," Gemma says. "And relax. How would your character respond to her demands?"

"Er..." I say. "I'm going to charge you extra for that!"

"Better, better," Gemma says.

---

Things are going well enough at school. I'm not sure what's going on between Draco and his father, but I'm quite convinced that it's not as bad as Draco makes it out to be. One day, I decide to go see Professor Malfoy.

"Do you need something, Mr. Potter?" Malfoy asks.

"Er," I say. "I just wanted to know, are you actually upset at Draco? He's my friend, and all, and I'm concerned about him..."

"I don't see how it's any business of yours, Mr. Potter," Malfoy says.

"I'm sorry," I say. "I don't mean to intrude. I just wanted to reassure him..."

"If my son wants reassurances, he can come and speak with me himself," Malfoy says.

"He hasn't, sir?" I ask.

"I have not spoken with him since the Opening Feast," Malfoy says.

I sigh and put my face in my palm. "He's being stupidly stubborn, isn't he."

I meet up with Draco later and prod him into visiting his father sometime. He doesn't mention whether he does or not, but after that, he's more relaxed and back to his usual snarky self again. We don't speak of it again.

The only shadow remaining on it all is that there's still no sign of that damned diary. I have Rispy and Dobby hunting for it as much as they can. I have been too embarrassed about my mistake to tell Dumbledore, however. I'll acknowledge that I'm being a hypocrite, perhaps. I'll take responsibility for whatever mess comes of my failure.

Halloween comes and goes without any attacks by trolls, basilisks, or anything else. It's quiet. Too quiet.

"Harry, did you hear the news?" Cassie says to me grimly at breakfast on November 1st. "Peter Pettigrew escaped from Azkaban."

"I didn't realize they'd even put him in Azkaban," I say. "Well, that's good."

"Good?" Draco says, raising an eyebrow. "Wasn't he the one who betrayed your parents? Why would that be good?"

"Oh, I was just worried about something horrible happening on Halloween," I say. "Now that I've learned what bad thing happened on Halloween, I can relax again. It's not that it's so much good, as that I doubt anything worse managed to happen on Halloween."

"You're weird, you know that?" Draco comments.

"But really now," I say. "What were they thinking, putting him in Azkaban? He's a rat Animagus, and they know this! That place couldn't hold him for five minutes longer than he wanted to stay there."

"I'm sure they made every reasonable precaution..." Terry says.

I snort softly. "They have Dementors guarding the prison. Creatures who are worse than the prisoners they are guarding." I shake my head. "Just... never mind."

One of these days, I'm going to tear down Azkaban so that no one ever need be imprisoned in such an abyssal pit again. But that won't be today.

---

Classes are going well enough. I'm starting to get the hang of casting some basic spells, generally curses, wandlessly. I'm getting a bit better at theatre, too. Well, except when I accidentally hang myself to death trying to play Judas in "The Passion of the Christ" for the Christmas play. But let's not talk about that.

I spend Christmas at Caer Danas. The ground outside the castle is blanketed with snow, and Cassie romps around like a child, making snow angels, snowmen, building a snow fort, and bombarding everyone else with snowballs. And Sirius joins right in.

"Come on!" Sirius says. "Play!" He chucks a snowball at me, which narrowly misses my face.

"Don't want to," I say. "I'm going inside to read."

"You're no fun sometimes," Cassie says. "You've got your whole life to read."

"Why are you in Ravenclaw, again?" I wonder.

"... Because I spent my whole life reading," Cassie says, looking down.

I sigh. "Well, alright. I suppose I can play for a bit..."

---

Second term passes by. There's a few spectacular pranks, courtesy of the twins. They haven't figured out the potion I gave them yet, though. I'm doing pretty good with wandless magic, with some pointers from Cassie. I still need to make the movements with my fingers and speak the words aloud, but I'm able to do all of the first year jinxes and hexes, and most of the charms and transfigurations, without a wand now.

Easter passes, with still no sign of the diary. Wherever it has ended up, it's clearly not in the hands of anyone at Hogwarts. I grow increasingly worried by the lack of anything happening.

By the time exams are upon us, I can hardly sleep for worry. Even the otherwise peaceful atmosphere of the school year can't keep me calm.

"What are you so uptight about?" Draco asks. "You can't possibly be worried about exams, the way you're doing."

"It's nothing," I say, shaking my head and looking away.

"You're bad at lying, you know," Draco says.

I sigh. I can't help but think of the memory of Draco, laying on the ground in the Chamber of Secrets, dying, and it was all my fault. But that was another life. That's not going to happen this time. Not if I have anything to say about it.

And if that weren't bad enough, Quirrell disappeared sometime around Easter, as well. Dumbledore had been trying to keep an eye on him, having people tracking his movements, but now he's dropped off the map.

I hate keeping secrets from Draco. But I've long since gotten used to not being able to tell everyone everything. And if I told him this, I would have to admit that I stole from his father, and the only reasonable explanation for that would be to tell him that I'm a time traveler.

At the start of the year, I'd been intending on letting all my friends in on the secret. Tell them all about how I was from the future, and everything. But things didn't work out that way, and I kept putting it off, and it seems like it would be silly to confess it now.

"I just don't want to talk about it, alright?" I say.

Draco snorts. "You don't want to talk about it? Then fine, don't talk about it. But the way you're moping around makes it pretty obvious that something is wrong."

I sigh. "I know."

"And if something is really bothering you so much, then do something about it," Draco says. "You're not going to get anything done by moping."

"I've been trying," I say. "It's no use."

"Obviously not trying hard enough, then," Draco says. "Or trying the wrong thing. If it's not working, try something else!"

"You're probably right," I admit, shrugging. "Muffliato," I mutter to make sure our conversation isn't overheard. We're alone in the dorm room, but I'm paranoid. You never know where Morag might be lurking. "Draco, tell me. What would you think if you suspected the Dark Lord might return soon?"

"Is that what you're so worried about?" Draco says. "I'd think it would be a good thing, wouldn't it? Oh, well, aside from that he might come after you... that'd be bad."

"Yeah," I say, smirking. "That would be bad."

"But why would you even think that he's likely to come back anytime soon?" Draco wonders. "There's been no sign of him even being alive in over ten years."

"Because..." I say, quickly trying to think up an excuse. "My scar hurts!"

"Your scar hurts," Draco says flatly, looking at me. "Seriously?"

"It's clearly a sign that there's still a lingering connection between us somehow," I say.

"Harry, that's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," Draco says. "Besides, I've never seen you wincing or clutching at your forehead."

I make an exaggerated expression of pain and put my hand to my scar. "Oh, the pain!"

Draco snickers. "Save it for the stage, Hamlet." He leaves the room.

He's probably right about one thing, though. I've clearly been going about this the wrong way. But I'm paranoid about many people knowing that the diary even exists, never mind to be keeping an eye out for it. I don't know who I can really trust.

I should just focus on exams. It's not like they're going to be all that hard or anything, but worrying is getting me nowhere. I just wish I could count on Voldemort to leave me alone. I really don't want to have to fight a Dark Lord right now.

---

The year comes to a close. I manage to not completely fail at theatre. I get top marks in all of my exams, even Potions. Well, I'd be really embarrassed if I were so bad at it that couldn't even manage to do first year potions, and I've been making an effort to improve at it this year.

And no one even found out that Remus is a werewolf. So I diligently reminded him every month and once actually did follow through on my threat of force-feeding him Wolfsbane Potion, but at least there have been no unfortunate accidents.

Then, at breakfast on the day after exams are finished, an owl flies in to the Gryffindor table. This wouldn't be particularly remarkable but for the havoc that follows. Ron runs off toward the restroom, the twins stomp up to their dorm, and Percy is left trying to quiet down the Gryffindor table.

"What's going on with the Weasleys, I wonder?" I mutter.

"Do you really care?" Draco says.

"For once, I'm with Draco," Stephen adds, yawning.

I get to my feet. "I'm going to go find Ron."

"Why?" Draco wonders absently.

"Morbid curiosity," I say. "I'll decide whether to comfort him or to mock him when I find out what's going on."

"In that case, I'm with you," Draco says.

"Me, too," Cassie adds.

"I suppose I'll tag along, too," Terry says.

"Have fun with that," Michael says.

"Good," Stephen says. "Leave me alone and let me eat in peace."

We follow along in the direction Ron went. When we finally track him down, he's not in the boys' restroom, but the girls' restroom. The one on the first floor, with Moaning Myrtle and the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets.

"Why in Merlin's name are you hiding out in a girls' restroom, Weasley?" Draco wonders.

"Go to hell, Malfoy," Ron snaps. He looks like he's been crying. And puking. "Did you just come to make fun of me? I'm sure you'd think it's great, wouldn't you?"

"That entirely depends on what you're talking about," I comment. "As it is, we have no idea what you're going on about."

"My sister is dead, you bastards!" Ron cries.

We stare at him speechlessly for several long seconds. Finally, I utter, "Fuck."

"Oh, Merlin, Ron," Terry says. "I'm sorry."

"What happened?" Cassie wonders.

"I'd better not hear one word from Malfoy about this," Ron says, shaking his finger at Draco. "We don't even know what happened!"

"How do you know she's dead, then?" Draco asks.

"Because... because... we have a clock in our home, with hands that point to where everyone in the family is..." Ron says. "Ginny disappeared, and her hand pointed to 'Mortal Peril' for about a day. And then... it disappeared. She's dead... my little sister is dead..."

"Mortal peril?" Terry says.

"They thought she'd been kidnapped," Ron says. "Mum and dad went spare trying to find her. But they couldn't find her anywhere. And now she's dead!"

"I'm sorry," I say, putting out my hand to steady myself and inadvertently falling straight through Myrtle. I shudder at the icy chill of passing through the ghost.

"Hey, watch it," Myrtle says, floating out of the way.

"Sorry," I mutter, standing and straightening myself out.

"My condolences for your loss," Cassie says quietly.

My mind is reeling. Could I have left the diary at the Burrow by mistake? Might Ginny have found it, written in it, got taken in by Tom Riddle? If that's true, then I as good as killed her myself. I murdered Ginny. I don't know that that's what happened, but I don't see anything else I've changed that might have led to Ginny's death like this. It's my fault. It's all my fault.

"It's all my fault..." I whisper.

"How old was she?" Terry is saying, but I'm barely paying attention now.

"My fault... my fault... I as good as killed her..." I murmur.

"Ten," Ron says, rubbing his eyes. "She would have been eleven this year. She would have gone to Hogwarts..."

"I killed her... I killed her... I killed her," I mutter.

"What did you say?" Ron says, looking sharply toward me.

I slump back against the wall, trembling. My face is wet. I feel sick. "I killed her..."

Ron's wand is suddenly at my throat. "What are you talking about, Potter? What did you do?"

My friends are looking at me in surprise as well. I can't blame them. It's too late to fix this now, though. She's already dead. She was probably already dead before I woke up this morning. For all of my knowledge of the future, I can't know everything, I can't predict everything, I can't do everything. And that's what bothers me the most.

"Fuck everything," I say. "It's my fault! It was my fault! It was all a mistake, a terrible mistake! I screwed up! I thought... I thought... I thought I could do something good. I thought I could stop anything bad from happening. Fuck!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Harry," Draco says. "I don't care how good you are with magic, there's no way you can prevent anything bad from ever happening. That's just..."

"Conceited?" Cassie supplies helpfully.

"Yeah," Draco agrees.

"How is this your fault?" Ron says. "What did you do to my sister?"

"The diary!" I say.

"A diary?" Terry says.

"What diary?" Ron says.

"A diary killed Ron's sister?" Draco says incredulously.

"The diary, the one I was looking for last summer," I say. "I sent you an owl asking if you'd seen it."

"You totally didn't," Ron says. "I remember Ginny had a diary, but..."

I shuffle around in my bag and, after a minute of looking, pull out a parchment. "You sent me this message!"

Ron snatches it out of my hands and peers at it. His face goes pale. "That's... that's Ginny's handwriting!"

"Ginny swiped your post?" Terry says.

"Fuck," I mutter.

"I'll second that," Ron says. "Mum might Scourgify my mouth for saying so, but... fuck! What is this diary? How did Ginny get her hands on it?"

"It belonged to the Dark Lord," I say. "I was looking for a way to destroy it. But I didn't want to carry it around, because I was afraid it would possess me or something."

"Why didn't you just leave it someplace safe, then?" Draco asks.

"Because I'm an idiot, obviously," I say, sighing. "A paranoid idiot that obviously wasn't paranoid enough."

"So you're telling me, You-Know-Who's diary killed my sister," Ron says in a wavering voice.

"Why did the Dark Lord have a diary, anyway?" Draco sneers. "I mean, he could have at least called it a journal or something less embarrassing."

"Not now, Draco," I say, sighing. "Alright, Ron, listen. This is very important. I need to know exactly when Ginny died."

"Why?" Ron says. "You've already killed my baby sister! Haven't you done enough?"

"I might still be able to save her," I say.

"How?" Ron demands.

"I can go back in time, alright, damn it!" I snap.

"What?" Ron says dumbly.

"He means he has a Time-Turner," Cassie says.

Ron blinks. "I... I don't know. Percy might. He was the one who got the letter. Look... I don't trust you. But if you might be able to save my sister... I'll help you."

"Good luck," Myrtle says quietly as we leave the restroom.

Ron hardly seems like he dares to hope, but at least he's stopped crying, screaming, and threatening me. No matter how much I deserve it for being an idiot.

"Percy!" Ron says, rushing up to the Gryffindor table.

"What now, Ron?" Percy says a little wearily.

"Muffliato," I mutter. "What time did she die, Percy?"

"Huh?" Percy says.

"I need to know," I say. "I might still be able to save her, but I need to know what time she died."

"I don't know what you might be thinking of, but..." Percy pulls out the letter from his pocket and hands it over to me. I read over it quickly. She went missing yesterday, apparently, and the hand on the clock didn't disappear until this morning. After sunrise. There might still be a chance.

I return it to him. "Thanks, Percy. I'll see what I can do... I'm going to go back in time to try to save her now."

I'd told myself I wouldn't commit suicide just to try to save one person before. That always ended in disaster. But this is different. This isn't just about Ginny. It's about Tom Riddle. I just wish I could go back to yesterday, the day before, a year ago. Damn it all. How did I screw this all up so badly? My plans were perfect. And I made a mistake.

I go off quietly into an empty classroom, managing to lose the others in the process, but Cassie follows along after me.

"Alright, I know about your ability and all, but what are you going to do now?" Cassie says. "Commit suicide?"

I nod. "I have to try."

"Is this just about Ginny?" Cassie asks. "What, did you like her in another life or something?"

"No," I say. "I barely knew her." I snort softly in amusement. "The most interaction we had was her kicking my ass in Dueling Club."

"So, why?" Cassie asks.

"The Dark Lord," I say. "I've got to try to stop him. Otherwise... things could get really bad, and this one quiet year will be the last one we may have."

Cassie nods. "And what will that mean for us?"

"That means... you'll still be here, and I'll be dead," I say. "Take my stuff, alright?"

Cassie snorts softly. "And you can't take me with you or anything?"

"I don't know," I say. "If I can, I don't know how. And now isn't the time to experiment."

"If you say so," Cassie says. "Do you need help with that, then, or can you off yourself on your own?"

"It's alright," I say. "I can do it. Goodbye, Cassie."

"Good luck, Harry."

I smile sadly at her, and will my Time Magic to make me younger, younger, until I vanish from existence.

---

I wake in the Ravenclaw dorm. I don't have any time to lose. I suddenly realize that even if I only have minutes to spare, I don't even know where Ginny is. She went missing, after all. I'm an idiot. I really should have figured that out first. How do I hope to find Ginny when skilled, adult wizards couldn't do it?

I rush downstairs in my lightning bolt pajamas. Cassie is sitting in the common room, reading a book quietly. "Cassie," I hiss. "Muffliato. This is an emergency. No time to explain. Do you know any spells that can find a person?"

"Who are you looking for?" Cassie asks.

"Ginny Weasley," I say.

"I can," Cassie says. "But it's a dark spell, and I need a bit of them to do it. Blood preferably, but hair will do failing that."

"Alright," I say. "I'll see what I can do." I go over to the fireplace and toss in a bit of Floo powder, and say, "The Burrow!"

Molly looks up at me in surprise. "Harry? What are you doing here?"

"Trying to find Ginny," I say, going for the stairs and heading up to her room. "I need something of hers to try to locate her."

"How did you even know she's missing?" Molly asks, following after me.

"Time travel," I say. There's a pink hairbrush. Strange, Ginny never really struck me as the pink sort of girl. I grab it and hurry back downstairs past Molly. "Sorry, don't have time for explanations. She'll be dead by breakfast if I don't hurry."

"Good luck..." Molly says dubiously. So many people have wished me luck today that I feel absolutely doomed.

"Hogwarts, Ravenclaw common room!" I say, stepping into the green flames and returning to the school.

I go over to Cassie and hand her the hairbrush. She just nods and gestures at me to follow, and goes out of the common room. We hurry along to a nearby classroom. I can feel every second ticking away, thinking this moment she'll be dead, this moment it will be too late. I cast protective spells over the room as Cassie prepares the ritual.

I'm extremely nervous, but even still, I watch what she's doing. She places strands of Ginny's hair in a bowl of water, and chants in a language I don't recognize. It's not Latin, that's for sure. She waves her wand over the bowl in complex movements, glowing runes appearing in the air for a moment.

"I've got it," Cassie says, letting out a deep breath and slumping over.

"Where is she?" I ask.

"A house somewhere, not sure," Cassie says. "I've got a clear image, though. I can Apparate us there."

We hurry back up to Ravenclaw Tower. The eagle knocker demands the answer to the riddle, "It cannot be seen, cannot be felt, Cannot be heard, cannot be smelt. It lies behind stars and under hills, And empty holes it fills. It comes first and follows after, Ends life, kills laughter."

"Ugh, damned riddles," I say, sighing. "I don't have time for this, damn it. Let me inside! I need to stop the Dark Lord!"

"Correct, the answer was 'dark'," the knocker says, and the door opens.

"And you say your luck is bad?" Cassie says wryly.

We step back through the Floo to the Burrow again. Molly isn't in the room this time, so Cassie just Side-Along Apparates me from there to the location she scried.

It's a large house, and would probably be fairly nice, although it looks rather run-down, like no one has actually lived here in years. Ten-year-old Ginny lays on the floor. Not breathing. Tom Riddle stands above her, looking very much solid and corporeal.

"You're too late," Tom says. "Although I do wonder how you knew where I was... And what's this? First years in pajamas come to stop me?"

"Fuck," I mutter, rushing up to Ginny's side. No breath. No heartbeat. She's dead.

"Such a mouth on you, boy," Tom says.

"Cassie," I say. "Go. Now."

Cassie looks at me for a moment, then decides not to argue, and vanishes. I breathe a sigh of relief. Bad enough that I came too late to save Ginny. I don't need to get Cassie killed as well. I straighten and look at Tom. He has a wand pointed at me.

"How noble of you," Tom says. "Now, who are you?"

"Harry Potter," I reply. "Where am I?"

"Harry Potter, hmm?" Tom says. "The one who apparently brought about my downfall walks so willingly into my clutches? Oh, I know all about you. This fool girl would not keep quiet about you. Well, since you asked, you are in Riddle Manor in the village of Little Hangleton."

"I see," I say.

"Now, why don't you answer some questions for me, instead?" Tom says. "Who was that with you? A first year that knows how to Apparate?"

"Cassiopeia Black," I say. "She's quite precocious."

"And did you really think you could stop me?" Tom says. "Did you think you could save the girl? I am Lord Voldemort! And you come foolishly rushing in like some reckless Gryffindor."

"I'm a Ravenclaw, actually," I say.

"And why did you have Miss Black leave you here alone?" Tom asks.

"Because you're going to kill me," I say. "And there's no reason for her to die, too."

"You seem awfully calm for someone facing your death," Tom says. "What aren't you telling me?"

"What do you mean?" I say, getting nervous.

"This is some sort of trick, isn't it," Tom says. "No, I don't think I'm going to kill you. Stupefy!"

Only my reflexes save me, and I tumble out of the way. Alright, I need to go now. I will myself to get younger, force my body to grow smaller until I'm gone.

---

I wake in the Ravenclaw boys' dorm. Damn it all, I need to be faster. I grab my bag and rush downstairs to where Cassie is reading.

"Muffliato," I mutter. "Cassie, do you know where Riddle Manor in Little Hangleton is?"

"No... Is that near Greater Hangleton?" Cassie asks.

"Maybe," I say. "I need to get there now."

Cassie nods. We step through the Floo to the Burrow, but don't even bother answering Molly's surprised questions. Cassie Side-Along Apparates me to an alley in an unfamiliar town.

"You'll have to fly from here," Cassie says, waving her wand to cast a few more spells. "You did bring a broom, didn't you?"

I pull one out of my bag. Not a very good broom, as I hate flying, but I'm paranoid enough to want to keep one around. "You think I actually paid attention to the rule against first years having brooms?"

"Alright, good luck," Cassie says. "The Muggles won't see you now at least."

"Thanks," I say.

I kick into the air and start scanning the area for anything that might be the house I'm looking for. There's a graveyard, which brings to mind a shudder, remembering the resurrection ritual at the end of fourth year. Could it be the same graveyard? And there's a house nearby, that might just be the right house. I fly down to check it out.

I put my broom in my bag and pull out my wand before stepping inside. Sure enough, inside the house there's Ginny's body with Tom Riddle standing over it.

"You're too late," Tom says. "The girl's life belongs to me, now. Although of all the people I might have thought would try to rescue her, a first-year in pajamas was not high on the list."

I check. I have to. But Ginny is dead. Lost. Gone. Too slow. Too late.

"Tom Riddle," I say. "Or should I say Lord Voldemort?"

"So you do know who I am," Tom says, looking over me appraisingly as he holds his wand at me. "And who might you be? Hmm, perhaps you are the one the foolish girl described to me... Harry Potter?"

"That's me," I say. I'm quite a bit less calm than I was before. I need to find some way to resolve this situation, even if it means that Ginny has to die.

"I find it hard to believe that a mere baby could somehow defeat me," Tom says.

"So do I," I say. "Obviously, my mother did something. Because I certainly didn't."

"How did you even know where to find me?" Tom asks.

"Well, let's see," I say. "You're Tom Riddle. This is Riddle Manor."

"I suppose there is that," Tom concedes. "Now, do you care to plead for your life, Harry Potter?"

"Can we discuss this?" I say.

"What's there to discuss?" Tom asks.

"Why do you want to kill me?" I ask. "Is it just because of that stupid prophecy? Prophecies are bullshit, you know. The future isn't fixed."

"Oh?" Tom says. "And what do you know of the prophecy?"

"I don't even remember the whole thing," I say. "It was overblown nonsense, anyway. And if there was any truth in it to begin with, the thing got fulfilled when you tried to kill me as a baby."

"But you do know the full prophecy?" Tom says. I feel a thrust of Legilimency against my mental barriers.

"I know a lot of things I'm not going to tell you," I say.

"We'll see about that," Tom says. "Stupefy!"

He almost catches me by surprise this time. I try to dodge. Too slow. The spell clips me, and the world goes out.