I Remember You

"I remember you," the Dark Lord said. "I remember you, Ginny Weasley."

I said nothing.

"I remember your words, always beginning with Dear Tom."

I said nothing.

"Strange isn't it, how I remember something so insignificant. How I remember it, I cannot explain, not exactly." The Dark Lord trailed off here, silent for a few moments. "I suppose when the Potter brat turned my own basilisk fang against me-" (rage emanated from these words) "- what I put in the diary returned to me, my memory brought its memories, memories of you and the second year of our hero Potter."

I said nothing.

"Little, foolish, Ginny Weasley, I do believe I've already told you that. It is delightful, the ease with which I can win the trust and heart of a naïve and stupid little girl. Though I must admit, winning the will of one has always been a strong point of mine - I can always win a person, by cajoling or coaxing or, worst come to worst-" (mirth!) "- coercion will do the trick."

I said nothing.

"It is a sweet...memory...that moment, that single moment before you fell, when you saw me leave the diary. The full horror upon your face, the gleeful moment where I knew I had won. You fell, Ginny, I don't think you remember that, but I do. You fell, too weak to go on, and left me to await Potter."

I said nothing.

"Dear Ginny, this silence, this pitiful silence! You never were silent in those days. The empty eternity of fifty years being alone in the diary was suddenly broken by the constant confidence of a little girl. It's almost hard to know which is worse, the endless waiting or the eternal gentleness with which I had to act. Dear Ginny, it's all right, I'm sure Harry loves you. Dear Ginny, it's all right, McGonagall's a reasonable teacher, she'll understand that you can't transfigure a brick into a box. Dear Ginny, don't worry, I don't know who is attacking the roosters or the students, but I am sure it's not you."

I said nothing.

"I was right, wasn't I, dear Ginny? It wasn't you attacking everyone, it was me. How cruel of me, not telling you that. You don't remember, do you, Ginny, standing in front of the sink, speaking the soft words of Parseltongue, feeling them glide of your lips, your noble Gryffindor lips, to summon the great secret? The exhilaration of the hunt as Salazar's pet took down the filthy muggleborn scum that dirtied the halls of the already sullied school."

I said nothing.

"What a shame you don't remember, it may have saved you, Ginny. It may have changed you, made you see the light and brought you to the dark."

I said nothing.

"Paradoxical, isn't it?"

I still said nothing.

"Do you remember what it may have saved you from, Ginny? Or have you already forgotten? Is your young memory weaker than mine, less trained, less adept at schooling facts and marshalling them to your service? Do you forget the weaknesses and the secrets of others? Do you forget what can be used against them later? Do you forget with what you can torture followers?"

Say nothing...

"I don't."

I know.

"I remember you," the Dark Lord said. "I remember you, Ginny Weasley. Tell me though, what does it feel like, to this time...be...the memory?"

The words flowed through the enchanted pages of the diary. As the words vanished, I finally wrote him a reply.

"Tell me, Tom, why do you bother talking to memories?"

My words appeared on the white parchment of the Muggle diary, then dissolved. He smiled, probably, placed his quill aside and shut the diary, for no more words came. The red cover shut, with my name embossed in gold on the outside...

I remember seeing it.

I remember the irony.

I remember his smile.

I remember my death.

I remember nothing more.

I am Ginny Weasley. I am a Memory.