Carbon

Tom Marvolo Riddle was growing increasingly impatient. It had been six years since he had had any contact with, well, anything besides his own thoughts, and that alone was enough to make anyone impatient. But he had been imprisoned in a diary for fifty years before that, and now he was contained in the back of a little girl's mind, trying time and time again to make contact with her, and failing each time. That caused him no end of despair. The first fifty years had been pretty damn boring, of course, but it wasn't his fault he had remained trapped in a diary; after all, the whole point of making the diary so that he would be able to wait, and open the chamber again when it was safe. But it was only through his own failures that he was here now. If only he had not failed in the chamber, and overconfidently toyed with Potter, or had managed to contact her, he wouldn't be here. Hell, he might have had the world kneeling at his feet by now if he hadn't screwed up so many times. If only he could make himself known.... He was sick and tired of sitting in the endless emptiness while his thoughts ran circles in the dark, his plans slipping and stumbling, never staying on their feet of enduring the terrain long enough to escape it. His route to power and glory wouldn't be hard once he got out, if only he could... He cries out in despair, focusing one thought, one last attempt to reach the girl.

"GINNY! ARE YOU THERE?" it echoes in his mind, and the nothingness around him. Silence. Bitter silence surrounds. And then.... she answers.

* * *

Virginia Weasley was lying stretched out in a patch of shade at the border twixt the Forbidden Forest and Hogwarts's lawn, enjoying one of the last days of summer. She had just awoken from a pleasant nap, and was simply keeping her mind clear, enjoying the natural sounds of the wild. It was then that she heard a faint but insistent voice shouting her childhood nickname. It was not an unfamiliar voice, but rather one she recognized immediately. It was a voice she had not heard in a long time, and hadn't expected to hear ever again.

"Riddle," she muttered under her breath, "typical." Yes, it was typical sort of thing for her life to throw back at her. Typical that after it had destroyed everything she had in the early stages of her existence, that it would throw back in her face the one that had started it all, the one thing that could cause yet another turning point. She should have realized it wasn't over, should have trusted her first instinct on the matter, and not just accepted him being gone as a fact, and let it go. What was she to say to him, after all these years?

Then again, this had the potential to be extremely entertaining. She had the will, the knowledge, and the power to withstand him, as well as her own new and personalized deadly secret. She knew his secret, and his ways, but he no longer knew hers. She had the upper hand so far this round. She neither wanted nor needed someone living in the back of her mind. Besides, she could use a play toy. Two could play this game. Six years . . . he must be awfully bored by now. So, move one, pawn to d5, act naive, as if nothing had changed. She smirked. He'd be awfully desperate by now. He just might buy it. . . .

"Hello?" she sent back, "Tom? Is that you?"

* * *

And then . . . she answered.

For a moment, he did absolutely nothing. For that first split second, his brain remained frozen in shock, as what had just happened sunk in. He had done it. Finally, after all these years, he had reached her. He was overwhelmed for a moment by the wave of relief that washed over him. Finally, he had found the hidden passage, the escape route from his prison. Freedom was in sight once more.

But why now? After all these years, why couldn't he have reached her before? And why hadn't her voice been tinged with the fear or bitterness that would fill any sensible person's voice? He smirked. Still made of sunshine and daisies. Such a stupid little girl. One would have thought she'd have learned something from the last little lesson he gave her. But she obviously hadn't changed. All the better. It would be simple from there on. All he had to do was open the door and escape without setting off the alarms, and from what he knew about Ginny Weasley, it would be a walk in the park. He was wrong.

* * *

It was time to get down to business. Tom was in a hurry to leave his cage. But talking to Ginny was a necessary step along the path, and though he'd like to skip ahead, get out of here, and take over the world, but that just wasn't the way things worked. In fact, life never worked that way for anyone. He was trying to keep calm. It ought to be easy, after waiting around for so long, to wait just a short bit longer. But instead, time seemed to be taking longer to pass by as he waited, the 'almost' driving him crazy. Hopefully she hadn't changed much. . . . The sooner he could begin to draw from her power, the better.

"Yes Ginny, it's me, your Tom. How's life been treating you?"

"Okay. I'm learning LOTS in school, but Harry still hasn't noticed me, dammit, and my brothers continue to tease me, and I just feel so bloody helpless. Not to mention that I haven't heard from you in six fucking years."

Well, apparently she hadn't changed much, apart from picking up some new vocabulary. The swearing was definitely new. At least it added a little interest to the conversation. Though the six years thing. . . even someone as naive as her wouldn't let the events at the end of the chamber incident go so easily. He thought quickly, trying to think up an answer to the question he knew would inevitably come next.

"So, what happened? Where the hell have you been? I can't remember a bloody thing about the end of the year. I think the bastards put a memory charm on me. Typical, isn't it?"

If he had a body, instead of being trapped in the back of her mind, he would have blinked. He had expected a question to come next, but that certainly wasn't it. Still, he shouldn't have been so surprised by the memory charm. It's not like anyone important would bother with a hysterical 11-year-old girl. Evaluation so far: Slightly more observant, she actually noticed lack of memory and formed a theory, still rather naive, with a little extra flavor to her language, no reason not to trust him, whom she seemed to think of as an old friend who went missing, and reason to distrust her fellow Hogwarts occupants, which would draw suspicion away from him. This would be even easier than he had first thought....

It was then that a realization hit him. Even if she did become suspicious of him, there was nothing she could do about it. He was no longer in some diary that could be thrown away or destroyed. The only way this couldn't work was if she was killed before he managed to escape. Either way she would die, and since there was no way her little 'friends' would notice in time, or that, if they did, they would be able to bring themselves to kill her. They would assume that there must be another way, and keep searching until it was too late. His victory was assured. There was no way that she could win this game. Foolish girl. She hadn't even realized that she was playing....

* * *

Virginia was laughing. It wasn't a happy, carefree laugh, but then again it wasn't a cold, humorless laugh either. She couldn't believe he had fallen into her trap so easily. Nor had she realized that swearing added to believability. . . definitely a fact to remember. Though in a way it made sense; as swearing is usually used as an add on to or emphasize an emotion, therefore causing believability, especially to nasty people used to pooling the wool over other peoples' eyes by acting charming. But that didn't take away the amusing aspect of the fact.

Life was strange in that way. Things hardly ever what they seemed. Sometimes the subtlest details could evoke reactions in others without them ever comprehending quite why the reacted that way, such as the important role swearing played in Tom's acceptance of her act as authenticity. But Virginia was aware, alert, and ready. She understood all too well the workings of the human mind, and how to twist and bend it to her will.