Resurrection

Chapter Two: Mysteries

"My wish was to ride with steel in either hand to death and destruction, as quickly as possible. Nothing, ever, could extinguish the terrible pain in my heart, except annihilation."

- Crown Duel by Sherwood Smith

"Join me, Draco Malfoy," Tom Riddle said, looking at Draco directly out of his bottomless eyes. "Join me as your father did- not as a servant, but an equal."

He was never your equal, thought Draco. He was your slave and you know it. Draco recognized the trick that Tom Riddle was playing: offering Draco what would most appeal to him and his pride. Becoming free of his shattered life, becoming more powerful than he could ever hope to be on his own. But Draco knew that when Tom had a complete hold over him, Draco, like his father, would develop into little better than a servant. Still, it was so hard to resist, mostly because he really wanted to believe Tom, wanted to think that this 71-year-old presence trapped in a 16-year-old body could give him everything he'd ever wanted and would want. Yet his very sense of pride rebelled against the idea of giving himself over entirely to anyone. His arrogance and vanity were the very things which kept him from joining Tom Riddle at that moment- he would be no one's servant.

Tom read the look in his eyes as easily as if Draco had told Tom exactly what the emotions in his mind were, and he smiled. "You are brave, Malfoy," he said. "Very. If I had time, I would break you, but as it is, I have more important things to take care of. I can find a worthy aide soon enough."

Draco narrowed his eyes. As relieved as he was that Riddle was not going to force him to do anything, he was troubled by his ominously mysterious agenda. Anything that was so important that Voldemort didn't have the time to indulge in one of his favorite pastimes was terrible indeed. How could Riddle have come up with a To Do list when he'd only been out of the diary for a quarter of an hour? And what exactly was on that list?

Draco ran his fingers through his hair, looking down at the small diary lying innocently on the table. When he looked up, Riddle was gone.

****

Draco remained in the house for another day or two, cleaning up after the mess that Riddle had left. He had no idea where the dark-haired boy had gone, and didn't really care at that point. His thoughts were swirling through his head. What should he do next? Try to send Riddle back to wherever he had come from, or stand aside and let him do as he pleased? It seemed to him that whatever Tom did next was his responsibility, as Draco had been the one who brought him back.

Draco still felt an inborn contempt of all people with Muggle blood, and he knew that these people would be Riddle's primary targets, should he return to full power. But who else would be hurt by Riddle? Probably no one he cared about, but still... Tom had shown that he would not hesitate to kill anyone who got in his way. He would certainly murder anyone who, like Draco, did not join him at once. He probably couldn't risk revealing to the magical community that he was back before he had gathered enough power.

It was quite a dilemma for Draco. On the one hand, the Mudbloods would be exterminated, as they should. On the other hand, the magical community at large would be destroyed--his whole way of life would be gone. His life would be in danger if he did not join the dark side at once, and he still did not know if that was what he wished to do. Perhaps he was thinking too far ahead--he didn't know what Riddle's agenda was yet. So he decided to wait and see what happened before choosing to ally himself with one side or another.

The next day, that choice would be made for him, by Riddle himself.

On that morning, Draco was awakened by a phone ringing loudly on his bedside table. He groaned in annoyance. He had gotten his first good sleep in days, and now he had to be interrupted by some petty lawyer calling about a small, uninteresting detail in his father's will. He had been plagued by such phone calls for days. Groaning in annoyance, he picked up the phone.

"Hello?" he muttered.

"Hello, this is St. Mungo's Hospital calling. Is this Mr. Draco Malfoy?"

Draco stiffened in alarm. His mother had been sent to St. Mungo's after the news of Lucius' death had come, driven insane by hysteria and grief. He visited her daily. She often did not recognize him. He had loved his mother dearly, and to see her reduced to such a state was agonizing for him. Something had to be wrong, for St. Mungo's to be calling this early.

"This is he," Draco finally responded. "Is there a problem with my mother? Is everything all right?"

The man on the phone sighed. "Mr. Malfoy, this is going to be very hard for you to hear. Your mother, Narcissa Malfoy, was murdered last night while she slept. I'm very sorry."

The phone slipped out of Draco's suddenly limp fingers and crashed to the floor. Dead. His mother, the only person in the entire universe who had ever loved him, was dead. His mind was at first too numb to accept it, but then grief, agonizing and sharp, washed over him, and he buried his face in his hands, and cried for the first time in ten years. The cool, rational part of his mind told him to stop crying, but still his shoulders shook. He kept thinking of the last thing she had ever said to him when he visited her at the hospital, during one of her saner moments--"Draco, promise me. Promise me that you'll always take care of me." And he had held her hand, and smiled at her, and promised that he would.

"Please don't let it be true," he prayed silently; to whom, he did not know. He had never been religious. But he knew that it had to be so. Now he really was alone in the world.

An hour later, he was striding along the hallway towards his mother's room, his face now impassive and free of tears. The attendant scurried along next to him. She had murmured a few half-meant expressions of condolence when he had first come it, but he had ignored her, as he was doing now, sunk in his own dull daze of grief, and anger, and hatred. Who could have done this? And why? Why murder someone who had never hurt another person in her entire life? Rage built up inside him. Wasn't it bad enough that she had been insane? Couldn't they just leave him and his family alone?

Draco walked into her room, and saw her lying there in the hospital bed, eyes open and glassy, body unmarked except for an odd marking on her head that indicated she had been killed by a curse. It took all of the self-control that his father had drilled into him through the years to keep from showing his rage and sorrow at that moment. He walked over to her still form, and gently clasped the cold, limp hand. Her blue eyes stared straight ahead, unseeing. Draco carefully reached out and shut her eyes. Now she looked as she truly was--at peace, spared the sorrows of this world, free forever from the insanity that had plagued her. Tears of fury and grief came to his eyes. He breathed in deeply, struggling to maintain his control over his emotions.

He turned and barked at the attendant, "How and when did this happen?"

The attendant trembled as she answered, brushing her mousy brown hair out of her eyes. "It happened last night, sir, at about one o'clock. We think it may have been the Avada Kedavra curse. But it didn't kill her instantly, sir--we found this lying next to her." She held out a piece of paper, on which his mother's handwriting was discernible. "She must have written it just before she--passed away."

He snatched it from her small hand, and quickly scanned it.

Riddle returned Took first verse of Nunc Mortalis spell Tell Dumbledore

Draco stared at the piece of paper. His hand trembled. He did not think about the mysterious last 2 sentences of the message. All he could see in his mind's eye was the 2 words 'Riddle returned'. Tom Riddle had killed his mother. Why, Draco did not know, and he did not care. He knew what he would do now. A murderous light came to his eyes. Yes--he would slaughter Riddle. Tear his throat out with his bare hands and smile as he screamed. The icy cold exterior would be shattered, and for the first time in his life, Voldemort would feel fear. Or he himself would die, and then all the pain, all the confusion would be ended, and there would be peace at last. Draco smiled as a tear ran down his cheek, and slowly walked away.

****

A couple of days later, Ginny walked along the fourth floor corridor with Hermione and Ron on her way to lunch, thinking about Tom. Where was he now? What was he doing? And who in the world had brought him back? Had they done it accidentally? Or was it done on purpose, for some unknown malevolent motive? These questions swirled around in her mind, and she couldn't find the answer to a single one.

A cool, contemptuous voice said from behind her, "Hey. Weasley."

Ron, Ginny and Hermione all turned at the sound of Draco Malfoy's voice, instantly on their guard. Ginny felt an intense hatred for the silver-haired boy. She remembered all too well the insults he had hurled at her in her first year--comments that had hurt her deeply, though now she knew them to be petty and rooted in narrow-minded malice. And his father had been the cause of her ordeal that year- something she was sure Draco Malfoy did not regret in the least. Hermione put her hand on Ginny's shoulder, to reassure her, and used her other arm to restrain Ron in case Malfoy provoked the other boy into trying to attack him.

Draco sighed to himself. It would be hard trying to talk to Weasel's sister alone if they were all so defensive. Though he supposed he had only himself to blame for that. Still, he really had to talk to her- she was the only one who knew what Tom Riddle was like, was the only one who could give him the information he needed to know where Riddle might go next.

"I meant the female Weasley, oh ever-intelligent Gryffindors," he said, saying the word 'Gryffindor' like it was the world's worst insult. "I need to speak with her. Alone."

Ginny narrowed her eyes at him. Why in the world would he want to talk to her? Could it possibly have anything to do with Tom? She warily took a step towards him. "All right," she said, as calmly as she could. "And my name is Ginny, Malfoy."

"Ginny--" sputtered Ron.

"Yes, Weasel," Draco drawled sarcastically. "Be afraid, because of course my only purpose in coming here was to simultaneously seduce your sister, kill you and all your family, bring Voldemort back from the dead, and destroy the world. How ever did you guess my evil secret cunning plans?" He knew he shouldn't have baited the red-headed boy, but how could he resist when rewarded with an expression on Weasley's face such as the one that was appearing there know- a mixture of anger, confusion, horror, and frustration.

"I'm not seven anymore, Ron," said Ginny, silencing said brother with a look. "I can take care of myself." She turned to Draco and glared at him, her face a perfect expression of cold contempt. "If you really want to talk to me, Malfoy, then stop taunting my brother and get this over with."

Draco inclined his head towards her in a mocking gesture of false courtesy, and they walked several yards away until they were out of earshot.

Ron stared at them as they walked away. His eyes narrowed slightly, and he crossed his arms over his chest. "I don't like this," he muttered to Hermione. "What could he possibly want with my sister?"

"Oh, Ron," Hermione said, utterly exasperated with her friend by this time. However much she liked Ron, she still could not believe how completely immature he was sometimes. Still, he was her best friend, and they'd become even closer in the time after Harry's... passing. He annoyed her and infuriated her often, but he was always there for her, there to understand how she felt about what had happened. She continued, "You'd better face the fact that Ginny isn't a little girl anymore. She's old enough to manage her own affairs, and she won't thank you if you keep trying to manage them for her. Just trust Ginny. Has she ever given you a reason not to?"

Ron muttered, "It's not her I don't trust," but he subsided, though he still continued to stare malevolently in Malfoy's direction. If that conceited blond puffed-up git tried anything with Ginny, he would get a lot more than he reckoned for.

Ginny folded her arms over her chest, leaning against the wall as far away as possible from the fair-haired boy standing a few feet away. "What do you want?" she demanded brusquely, glaring at him.

To her surprise, he didn't seem to have his usual mask of icy, contemptuous calm--on the contrary; he was pacing up and down, catching his lower lip in his teeth, and pushing his silver-blond hair out of his metallic grey eyes. "Look," he said. "I know what happened to you in your first year--"

"And what? You've come to apologize for what your father did to me?" she snapped.

"My father did to you? He did nothing to you," said Draco indignantly, diverted from the original point of the conversation.

"You know perfectly well he did," said Ginny, her voice beginning to rise in pitch and volume as her temper flared. "Who do you think gave me that diary, Malfoy? Who do you think caused an eleven-year-old child to be possessed by the most evil being in the universe? It sure as hell wasn't the bloody Easter bunny!" She was breathing hard, her fists clenched, her eyes burning with fury. All of the pain and rage and guilt she had felt during and immediately after the possession was flaring up again, after 5 years of being bottled up inside of her. She had never talked to anyone about how she had felt about Tom or his takeover of her mind, so the emotions resulting from that event had stagnated inside her, breeding a bitter resentment.

Draco stared at her. He hadn't known that his father had done this--he always had assumed that the naïve little 11-year-old Ginny had found the diary somewhere. This changed things... he understood why his father did such a thing, but it didn't mean he agreed with it. At the time he would have been happy if the Heir of Slytherin had remained to purge the school of Mudbloods, but now he wasn't sure what he believed in any more. All he knew was that Tom Riddle must die. "I didn't know he gave you that diary," he said to Ginny.

She sneered elegantly. Draco, no stranger to sneers himself, was impressed. "Huh," she said in a disbelieving tone. Then Ginny forced herself to control her emotions and act maturely. She said as serenely as she could, "Well. I'm sure that was not the point of this conversation," prompting him to carry on.

"Yes," said Draco. "Well, as I was saying, you know Tom Riddle fairly well, don't you?"

"We've met," Ginny said with a sarcastic smile.

Undeterred by her riposte, Draco continued, "There is--a slight problem. You see, Tom Riddle has--"

"Come back?" queried Ginny with a sad smile. "I know. But--how do you know?"

Draco stared at her in total astonishment. "How do you--nevermind," he said. "See, I know because--because, well, I was the one who brought him back."

The color drained out of Ginny's face. "What?" she whispered. "You?"

"It was an accident," Draco said, abashed.

Ginny had to put her hand on the windowsill for support. "How?" she said, staring at him with huge brown eyes. "And- when?"

"Two days ago. I came upon his diary among my father's things, and I didn't know what it was, having never seen it before then. Two words appeared on the page- 'Resurgum Solidus'. And I don't know what came over me- I pointed my wand at the book and repeated the words, and he came out of the book."

"My God," murmured Ginny. "I thought he was destroyed 5 years ago." Then her brows furrowed in suspicion and worry. "Malfoy- why are you telling me all of this? It's probably a good thing for you that he's back."

It was Draco's turn to sneer. "Have you idiot Gryffindors ever considered the prospect that I might not be exactly like my father? Of course not. You lot are all muscle and no brain." He paused for a moment. It was long enough for Ginny to attempt to kill him with her glare. "Look," he continued. "I have a very, very good reason for wanting Tom Riddle dead, or sent back to whatever hellhole he crawled out of. And I think that you will be able to tell me about him, so that I can accomplish this. I--" he choked out the next few words with difficulty "-- need your help, Weas--erm, Ginny."

Ginny stared at him in total astonishment and incredulity. "You are asking for my help?" she demanded loudly. Ron and Hermione turned and looked at them with puzzled expressions. "You, Draco Malfoy, rich, conceited, pureblood prig, who has never talked to any Weasley in his life except to ridicule, are asking for my help? My," she said sardonically. "Your daddy must be so ashamed."

"My father is dead," Draco hissed, with more vehemence than he had meant to. She drew back, startled. So that's why Malfoy had been gone for the past few days, she mused. "And you are not making this any easier for me, Weasley. I'm not Voldemort's lap-dog like my father was, all right? I am asking as politely as I can for you to tell me what you know so I can figure out what I will do next to bring him down, but if you don't want to help me, just say so, and I won't trouble you again!"

Ginny was silent for several moments. It seemed that she had misunderstood Draco Malfoy. To what degree, she did not know. Was he really honest in needing her help, or was he trying to use her for some unknown scheme? Tom had taught her an important lesson--never trust anyone, ever. But at last she said, "I'll help you. I want nothing more than for Riddle to be killed. Nothing. And I will do whatever it takes for that to happen. Including allying myself with you."

"I understand," said Draco, his mouth twisting up into a scornful smile. "Is that all?"

"Not quite," replied Ginny. "If you want me to help you, you're going to have to let Ron and Hermione help too."

Draco let out a melodramatic groan. "And why do you have to drag the Dream Team into this?" he asked.

"Because Hermione knows everything there is to know about spells. She could probably tell us, for instance, where to find exactly what that 'Resurgum Solidus' spell does and what its origins are. And Ron will help in any way he can."

"Fine," snapped Draco. "Just keep your darling brother from trying to throttle me every 30 seconds."

"He wouldn't try if you didn't provoke him to it," Ginny coolly replied. "They'll be civil if you will."

"All right," said Draco through gritted teeth. "Please tell me there's nothing else."

"We-ell," said Ginny. "Actually--"

"Argh," said Draco.

"--We need to talk to Professor Dumbledore," said Ginny. "He should know about all of this."

Draco thought briefly of the note that his mother had written before she died. It had said something about telling Dumbledore. But he would not tell the carrot-headed little Weasley about his mother unless it was necessary. So he said, "No. Absolutely not. We can't tell the old bat. I have to solve this on my own- don't you realize how much trouble I would get into if anyone besides us knew about my bringing him back?"

"Malfoy, you have to stop looking at this like it's just your problem!" Ginny said, fed up. "His returning is going to affect everybody. He's insane, and he won't hesitate to kill whoever he wants to. We all have to work to stop him, or we're all going to get hurt in some way."

"It's still my responsibility," Draco insisted. When Ginny continued to look put out, he added, "Let's just hold off a little while on telling Stumbledore, all right?"

"All right," Ginny reluctantly replied, sighing. She beckoned to him. "Come on," she said. "We're going to go tell Ron and Hermione."

"I think I'll skip on that one--" Draco said, edging away.

"Come on," said Ginny in a voice that would have made Mrs. Weasley proud, and Draco came.

They walked over to Ron and Hermione. Ron scowled fiercely at Draco, who gave him a sarcastic smile in return. Hermione couldn't help but roll her eyes. Boys.

"Okay," said Ginny. "We--meaning Malfoy and I--have something we need to talk to you about."

They looked at her with politely inquiring expressions. Ginny stood there rigidly, nervously twisting her fingers as she looked at them, while Draco leaned languidly against the wall, his silver eyes half shut.

"Um," began Ginny hesitantly. "You know how you asked me the other day if something was wrong, and I said no, Hermione?"

Hermione frowned. "Yes," she said.

"Well, I lied," said Ginny bluntly. "There is something wrong. Something really wrong. Don't freak out when I tell you this, but--Tom Riddle is back."

"Gah," said Hermione, her dark eyes wide, hands clasped over her mouth. She was in a state of utter shock. Tom Riddle, returned? The boy who had almost killed one of her best friends and possessed her other best friend's only sister? She finally recovered enough to speak. "How? When? How do you know?" she whispered, staring at them.

"Well, Malfoy told me, just now," Ginny replied. "You see, um--he was the one who brought him back. It was an accident," she said hastily when they glared furiously at Malfoy. "It happened about three days ago."

"Why did he tell you this?" Ron said suspiciously. "And why is he sticking around now? It'd be a good thing for him to have Voldemort back."

Draco cracked his knuckles, fighting to keep his face calm. If he had known that he would have to go through all of this when he decided to talk to Weasley... He grunted at Ginny through gritted teeth, "You explain."

"Malfoy wants my--our--help," Ginny said, looking at Ron and Hermione very seriously. She bit her lip. Years of Draco Malfoy's ridicule would definitely render them disinclined to agree to his request. "Look, he says he wants to send Riddle back. And I honestly think we should help him, because he has the diary, and he's the only one who knows exactly how Tom was brought back, and where he might go next."

"Why does he want our help?" Hermione said incredulously. Malfoy? He had tortured them ceaselessly for 5 years, and suddenly he wanted them to help him send back Tom Riddle. She saw how Ginny might be able to help him, but how could she and Ron?

"Believe me, Granger," Draco sneered, "It wasn't my idea to bring you two into this. Weasley, for some reason, seems to think that you can help us in some way. That's why she's telling you all of this. If it was up to me, you would have nothing to do with any of it."

Hermione scowled at him. Why did he always have to be so derogatory? But she knew, despite her dislike of Draco Malfoy, that she had to help him, because it was Tom Riddle they were dealing with. They had to put aside their differences and unite, because if they didn't, it only would be playing right into his hands. There was no Harry there to rescue them this time--they would have to save everybody on their own. A faint smile touched her lips as she imagined what her mild-mannered dentist parents would think if they knew that she was going to try to help bring down the most evil man that had ever existed--for the- was it fourth?- time. She and Ron traded glances, and she knew that similar thoughts were going through his mind. So she turned to Malfoy and said, "All right. We'll help."

Ginny breathed a sigh of relief. She knew that they would come around. "Great," she said, smiling at them. "I appreciate it."

Draco didn't say anything, just raised an eyebrow.

****

Hermione pounded the cover of a very old-looking and heavy tome in aggravation a few days later, raising dust and making Ginny cough. "Argh!" she shouted, or something like it. Madam Pince glared daggers at her, but in her frustration, she didn't notice.

"I can't find a single thing in any of these books that mentions anything remotely like that bloody Resurgum Solidus spell! Not one single thing!" she yelled angrily.

Ginny looked anxiously at her friend. "It's okay, Hermione, I'm sure we'll find something," she said reassuringly.

"Maybe it's time you got used to the idea that books don't solve everything, Granger," Draco said derisively from his lounging position on the floor a few feet away.

"I don't see you helping," Hermione said pointedly, smiling sweetly at him. Draco cleared his throat and looked away. They read on in silence for a few more minutes, then Hermione sighed and said, "Look, Malfoy, are you sure that nothing else happened to you concerning Riddle? I somehow don't think you've told us everything you know about him. And even the least little detail could help."

They all turned and looked expectantly at Draco. He shifted slightly and looked out the window. He didn't want to tell these Gryffindors; who had always been, if not enemies, at least strongly disliked by himself; something so personal about his life. On the other hand, maybe they could think of something that he hadn't thought of during his long analyses of his mother's note. What was the Nunc Mortalis spell? What did it have to do with his mother, Riddle and Dumbledore? Did it have any connection with the mysterious Resurgum Solidus spell? He had puzzled over these questions for many hours and had not found the answer to any of them. At last he sighed, turned back to the expectant group before him, and said, "You always were too brainy for your own good, Granger."

Hermione said nothing in reply, just looked meaningfully at him, waiting for him to continue, which he did.

"You're right," Draco said. "There is something I didn't tell you. Here," he said, handing the note to her. "Look at this."

Hermione read the note aloud, frowning in confusion. " 'Riddle returned. Took first verse of Nunc Mortalis spell. Tell Dumbledore.' " She looked up at Draco. "What is this? Where is it from?"

"It's a note," he said quietly, his face clear of all emotion. "Written by my mother a few moments before she was murdered by Tom Riddle a few days ago."

Ginny gasped, as they all turned and stared at them, their eyes wide with shock. Both of his parents were dead? How could this be? Why would Tom Riddle murder Narcissa Malfoy? Despite herself, Ginny felt desperately sorry for Malfoy. It can't have been easy for him, losing his entire family so rapidly. She looked at him with a slight worried frown on her face. She understood why he hadn't told them before. It would be hard to talk about, especially to people who have never been your friends. She began to feel empathy in her heart--she, too, knew what it was like to lose someone you loved.

Draco looked at her, and said coldly, as if reading the expression in her eyes, "Don't feel sorry for me, Weasley. If I wanted your worthless pity, I would have asked for it." How dare that inferior little speckled thing feel sorry for him! His family had been a thousand times richer and more civilized than hers for centuries. And to see her look down upon him, and think that he needed her compassion, was the basest indignity! He began to wish that he hadn't said anything.

Ginny drew back slightly, stung by his harsh words. Fine, she thought coolly. If he doesn't want my sympathy, then he won't have it. Ever. Her brown eyes darkened slightly, and she replied just as icily, "Why would I ever feel sorry for you, Malfoy? Everyone you ever loved- if you can love- could die, and I would laugh."

"I really don't care," Draco responded lazily. Ginny fought to keep her temper under control. Something about Malfoy really set her teeth on edge...

"Look," Ron said, glancing worriedly from his sister to his worst enemy, "Can we just try to figure out what this note means? It does us no good, and Riddle a great deal of good, if we sit here and argue all day."

Draco stared contemptuously at him for a moment, then said, "All right." Ginny nodded stiffly, still seething.

"Nunc Mortalis," muttered Hermione, oblivious to everything else. "What could it be? How is it related to him? I really think we should tell Dumbledore about this situation," she said, addressing them all.

Draco vigorously negated this proposition, and they began to argue over it.

But Ginny didn't hear a single word of their disagreement. She stared out of the window in a trancelike state. Something made her say, in her mind, Tom. Tom. Where are you? What are you doing? Talk to me. Tom.

She saw Tom smiling at her, gently stroking her hair as he read aloud to her from a book. She craned her neck to see the words at the top of the page. Nunc Mortalis. And on the opposite page: Resurgum Solidus. She recognized the spells and tried to take a closer look, but the sun shone on her face, and she felt so drowsy...

Abruptly, the world shifted. She was standing on a wet London street. Rain poured down from the sky, soaking her clothes, her hair, her skin. Cold droplets ran down her cheeks and sent little shivers through her nerves as they ran down her neck. She looked into the window of the building in front of her. It looked cozy and warm inside. A man stood there, laughing as he tossed a squealing child up into the air, and caught her again. After a few more tossings of this kind, he sent the giggling little girl up the stairs, smiling happily as he watched her go.

He took out a book, and flipped through it until he reached a page about halfway through. An unhappy shadow seemed to darken his features as he read the contents of that page. Again, the words at the top of the page were Nunc Mortalis. Below that were the words verse two. He ran his fingers gently over the page, immersed in his thoughts.

Then abruptly, the silence was shattered by the sound of shattering glass. The man looked up, startled, eyes widening in fear. "Who- who's there?" he called out. No one answered. The doorknob turned slowly, and the door to the room creaked open. The man took a step back--screamed once--and fell, a silver blade embedded in his throat.

Tom Riddle stepped into the room, and gently loosened the page from the slowly loosening grasp of the dead man. He reached out and shut the wide, open, staring eyes. He smiled, a smile which had always sent shudders down Ginny's spine, and still did. Then he looked out of the window, which was now open somehow, and seemed to see her there. A very distant part of her felt terrified, but she could not move, could not run away.

"I'll be waiting for you," he whispered, reaching out to touch her cheek.

"No!" shrieked Ginny. Her eyes were wide as they stared straight ahead, only seeing Tom Riddle's face, and that of the dead man. She was breathing hard, gasping for air.

Hermione, Ron, and Draco abruptly ceased arguing, and stared at Ginny. She didn't seem to see them there--it looked like she was having some kind of fit. Hermione said worriedly, "Um, Ginny, are you all right?"

Ginny gave a great, shuddering gasp, and her focus shifted back to them. "He's going to kill someone," she whispered. "Now."