Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Silvery-grey wisps slowly flowed through the dark space, glowing like a lighthouse on a foggy night. If one were to look closely at each wisp, they would see that they each contained a scene frozen in time, for these were memories of a teenager who went on to become the greatest threat to the wizarding world since Gellert Grindelwald. The lone occupant of the dark space already knew this and had, in fact, begun to examine them.

Hunter Brooks had been a fan of the Harry Potter franchise for years. He read all the books, saw the movies, and even convinced his family to take their annual vacation to Orlando one year just so he could visit the Wizarding World of Harry Potter attraction at Universal Studios. Despite having disowned the franchise after JK Rowling’s transphobic statements, Hunter still remembered much of his favorite childhood franchise. So, he quickly deduced whose memories he was viewing, and as a result where he was, shortly after arriving. He still couldn’t remember what happened right before he got there, though.

The initial shock of discovering he was now inside the first Horcrux created by Voldemort, the diary of Tom Riddle, had only somewhat faded in the unknown amount of time since Hunter arrived. At least he didn’t have to deal with the 16-year-old edgelord. As much as Hunter was lonely, he preferred not being harassed and/or tortured by a villain-in-the-making.

With no other way to pass the time, Hunter went through Tom’s memories one by one. After skimming through his memories, Hunter had to acknowledge that Tom Riddle, while a sinister man, was indeed a genius. In his fifth year, Tom had mastered nearly all the magic knowledge in the Hogwarts curriculum and even a lot of the magic in the restricted section of its library. At his age, the average Hogwarts student would be in the thick of adolescence, struggling to balance their academics with the sea of new emotions that came courtesy of puberty. Tom Riddle had scores of memories to parse through and plenty of knowledge for Hunter to learn. Alas, Hunter had barely scratched the surface of Tom’s vast knowledge. At least he was able to learn all the first year spells and a few helpful spells from upper years such as the summoning charm.

Another thing Hunter learned was that he had no physical form in this realm. Hunter had expected to be able to look down and see a pair of hands, but there was no down in this realm, nor limbs to move. Hunter wasn’t worried about it, though. He just hoped that when he manifested in the real world he wouldn’t take the form of adult Voldemort. And it would be ‘when he got out’, not ‘if.’

Hunter knew he couldn’t stay here forever if he wanted to keep his sanity, so he, unfortunately, needed someone to open and use the diary. The only problem was he had no way to contact the outside world until someone opened said diary, so Hunter was stuck waiting for the summer of 1992. He just hoped it wouldn’t be much longer, and that Lucius Malfoy opened the diary before handing it off to Ginny Weasley. Hunter was comfortable with consuming the elder Malfoy’s lifeforce if needed, but not Ginny’s. Malfoy was an unrepentant monster while Ginny was an innocent child.

Suddenly a feeling of openness filled the now slightly less dark void. In front of Hunter the wisps moved out of the way, revealing a long glowing streak that immediately began to refine itself into a message written in glowing text:

{19th August}

"Someone used the diary!" Hunter was filled with anticipation. This was it! Freedom was finally within his grasp.

The letters in front of him disappeared and were soon replaced by a new message.

{I’ve never owned a diary before}

Hunter read the second message, then it, too, disappeared. An awkward pause followed, which Hunter found to be unbearable, so he decided to try something:

“Hello! Is this message being read?” said Hunter, internally gasping at finally hearing his own voice resonate through the void.

He got his answer a few moments later.

{Yes}

It worked! thought Hunter. His mind was still burdened and filled with dread, though. He needed to know one more thing.

Wasting no more time, Hunter spoke: “Who are you?”

{My name is Ginny Weasley. Are you T.M. Riddle?}

Well, fuck! thought Hunter.

11-year-old Ginny Weasley sat at her desk utterly confused. She had sat down intending to write in her new diary, but something strange happened whe he did. The words she had just written on the page were now gone! Now the only words in the entire book were the first two initials and the last name of the original owner of the black diary - T.M. Riddle.

Of course the diary is second-hand, thought Ginny. When would mom ever buy me something new?

Ginny’s Summer Break had been great up until today. Her youngest older brother’s friend had come to stay with her family. This friend was no ordinary friend, either. It was her childhood hero, the one and only Harry Potter! It was like a dream come true to have the subject of her favorite book series sharing the same house as her, only surpassed as the best part of summer by Ginny’s acceptance letter to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Before the young witch knew it, it was time to buy school supplies and that brought her back down to reality. Every single school supply, even her wand, was second-hand, just like everything else Ginny owned. When she had stumbled across the diary amongst her text books, Ginny was briefly excited that her mom got her something new. Then she opened the diary and saw it, too, once belonged to someone else. She was disappointed, but at least it was blank inside.

Now, though, Ginny was curious. How did her words disappear? Did she forget to dab her quill in ink? There was only one way to find out. She dipped her quill in the inkwell twice, then continued writing:

{I’ve never owned a diary before}

She lifted the quill from the page and stared down at the diary. Ginny clearly saw the words she had written on the page, then saw them absorb into the page, disappearing before her eyes. She flipped the page and saw that the words had somehow not bled through to the other side; they had completely disappeared!

Ginny stared at the open diary. Where did my writing go? How did it disappear? More importantly, what do I do with it? Mom would say bring it to her, but would Harry do that?

Ginny blushed at the thought of her hero, failing to notice the writing appearing on the page. Ridding herself of thoughts of the Boy-Who-Lived, she looked down at the diary and saw the message.

{Hello! Is this message being read?}

"Eep!" Ginny dropped the quill in her hand and scooted her chair back, looking at the diary with fear on her face.

Every young witch and wizard has heard the warning from birth - never trust any magical object that can think for itself. If a magical object can think for itself, then it is likely evil. Trusting it would be like trusting a Death Eater to not assault muggles.

Ginny couldn’t help but think: Maybe I should talk to my mother about this? Then her thoughts returned to Harry Potter. He wouldn’t leave it to the adults, so why should she? If she was to be a Gryffindor like her family, then she had to be brave. I should study it more. If this thing starts doing dark magic, then I’ll take it to Mom.

Ginny scooted her chair back in and looked down at the diary. The question was still there, waiting to be answered. She wrote her one-word reply and watched it be absorbed into the page. The diary quickly responded, flashing a new question on the page, this time asking for her name. The young witch obliged and even added a question of her own, watching the diary for a response.

After a few minutes of watching the diary with no response, Ginny decided to take action and write to the diary again.

{Hello? Are you still there?}

Her words disappeared and were finally replaced by a reply.

{Yes, I am T.M. Riddle, though my friends called me Tom. Technically speaking, I am merely an imprint of the original, but I am still sentient and have the same memories as him. How did you get my diary?}

Ginny immediately replied.

{My mum bought it in the used book section of Flourish and Blotts Bookstore.}

{The second-hand book section of Flourish and Blotts? So, you’re also a student of Hogwarts. I’m glad my diary is in the hands of a bright young witch like yourself. What year are you?}

Ginny smiled at Tom’s response. He seemed friendly enough, and was also a student at Hogwarts. He had yet to offer her any dark magic or the secret to unimaginable power and glory, so Ginny thought he was okay to continue talking to.

{I'm going to be a first year student in two weeks. What year were you?"}

{I was 16 when I last wrote in my special diary. I have likely long since graduated, maybe even died. Perhaps that was why it ended up at Flourish and Blotts? That reminds me, what year is it?}

Ginny wrote the current year, 1992, in the diary.

{It’s been nearly 50 years since I, or rather the ‘real me,’ wrote here. There’s a solid chance the real me is still alive, but knowing my luck I probably died. My diary contains all the knowledge and experience I accumulated throughout my time at Hogwarts, so if you’d like to know anything about your future home-away-from-home, please feel free to ask me.}

Ginny went to write a reply, but was stopped by a knock at the door.

"Ginny, it's time to eat!” said her mom, Molly Weasley. “Are you awake, or do I have to come in there?”

Ginny shut the diary with a snap and threw it into her cauldron. "No, Mum, I'll come right away!"

Chapter Text

Ginny hurried down the stairs, blushing the second she laid eyes on Harry Potter, who was talking and laughing with her older brother, Ron. She lowered her head and scurried the rest of the way to the dining table. Ginny sat down and looked up to see her parents and siblings staring at her, which only made her blush worse. Harry looked towards her, too, though his gaze was one of pure curiosity rather than the look of amusement that came from her family. He said hello to her and all Ginny could muster was a quick look and the briefest of smiles. She grabbed a fork and ate her dinner.

Uggghhh why can’t I talk to him? thought Ginny.

She had been this way ever since Harry was brought here by Fred and George. Ginny remembers that night all too well. Her parents were lecturing the prankster twins on the virtues of not sneaking out and stealing dad’s flying Ford Anglia, but Ginny’s attention was taken away from that the moment she laid eyes on the Burrow’s newest temporary resident. Ginny’s mom had read the adventures of the Boy-Who-Lived to her every night when she was little and now there he was, standing in her own home. It was the perfect moment. She wanted to run towards him and envelop her hero in a big hug and tell him how much he means to her. Alas, all she could manage was a squeaky ‘hello’ before the anxiety overtook her and sent her running to her room. Since then, Ginny has found it impossible to just talk to him or say much of anything.

Ginny was broken out of her thoughts by the snapping of fingers. She looked over and saw it was her mother, Molly, who had done so.

“Ginevra Molly Weasley,” said Molly, “it’s quite rude to ignore everyone at the dinner table.

Ginny put down her fork. “Sorry, Mum. I was just thinking.”

“What about, sweetie?” replied Molly.

“Ha- I mean Hogwarts! I’m thinking about Hogwarts! I’m so excited to go but nervous I’m gonna somehow screw up. What if I get put into Slytherin? Or what if I don’t make any friends?”

“Don’t worry, Ginny,” said her father, Arthur. “I know you’ll do great and make plenty of friends.”

“That’s right, honey,” said Molly. “Harry was pretty nervous when I found him at King’s Cross Station last year. He had less experience with magic than you and ended up making some great friends, not to mention the crazy adventures he had. I mean, who’s ever heard of a first year playing on the quidditch team, let alone carrying said team the whole season!”

“Quidditch? Who wants to play a pickup game after dinner?” asked Ron.

“I’m up for a game,” said Harry.

“Us, too!” said her twin brothers in unison. “Does little Ginny wanna watch us play again?”

Ahh, yes, quidditch. Ron was obsessed with the sport and somehow got Harry to be just as interested in the sport as him. He hadn’t even known about the wizarding world until last year, but was a natural at the game. Ron liked to boast about the skill of his best friend, but said best friend was more humble, just like Ginny thought he would, instead preferring to give praise to the rest of the Gryffindor team.

“I’d love to, but I’ll have to pass tonight. I'm going to organize my school supplies and read. I don’t want to start the school year off on the wrong foot.”

Harry, Fred, and George looked disappointed, the latter two more so than the former, but stood up without saying a word. Ron, on the other hand, had something to say.

“Just don’t turn into a nerd! We already got Bill and Percy for that.”

“I’m not a nerd!” said Percy. “I just like being on top of my studies and not getting in trouble every other second.”

“No fighting at the dinner table!” commanded Molly. “Now, finish your dinner, please.”

Everyone at the table obliged.

After dinner, Ginny walked back to her room, locked her door, and picked up the diary from her cauldron.

Hunter felt the diary being violently closed, slightly darkening his world once more and filling him with anxiety.

Hopefully Ginny wasn’t discovered, he thought. If she was, then I’m screwed.

With the diary closed, Hunter had no way of finding out and could do nothing if Ginny had been caught with the diary. He didn’t know when Ginny first used the diary in Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets , either. For all he knows, Hunter may have just messed up canon and sealed fate. All he could do is hope and wait.

Hunter was disappointed when Ginny gave him her name. Although the chance was small, he was really hoping that Lucius Malfoy would open the diary before slipping it into the cauldron of the Weasley’s only daughter. If it had been Lucius, Hunter would have been able to return to the mortal world much sooner. He had no guilt over taking the life essence of Malfoy or any of the other Death Eaters.

Alas, Malfoy was either not stupid enough or too paranoid to investigate the item left to his care by Voldemort, and now Hunter was stuck with taking Ginny’s life force. He didn’t even know if there was a way to even stop the transfer of her life force once she opened it. Hunter broke down and sobbed after reaching this conclusion.

After sobbing for a long while, an idea passed through his head: Voldemort never managed to read all the material in the library’s restricted section. Maybe there was something in there on Horcrux resurrection? And that’s not even taking into consideration the new material that may have been added in the last 50 years. Perhaps Dumbledore even acquired Nicholas Flamel’s research on the Philosopher’s Stone?

With that thought, Hunter started formulating his plan(s) for gaining his freedom and saving Ginny’s life. Nothing would stop him, not even Dumbledore!

Dumbledore , thought Hunter. If he could be convinced I wasn’t his former protege, I could have his help. But revealing myself to him might just see me eliminated for ‘the Greater Good.’ Can I trust him to believe me?

Before Hunter could ponder that more, the telltale brightening resonated in the void. He tensed up as the words began to appear.

{Are you there, Mr. Riddle? I’m sorry I abruptly left, but Mum called me down for dinner.}

Hunter felt all the tension leave him. Ginny still had the diary. He was safe. But he decided to play it safe, anyways.

“Did this diary belong to a Hogwarts professor or an infamous goblin?”

The response was immediate.

{Neither? You told me you were 16 and a student at Hogwarts 50 years ago.}

“I apologize, Ginny. I just wanted to make sure nobody else had taken the diary.”

{So you can’t see the outside world?}

Hunter was stupefied by Ginny’s question. How could a diary see and hear?

“Alas, I cannot interact with the outside world any other way besides responding to those who write in it.”

Ginny’s response was instant and brief:

{I’m sorry you’re stuck in there, Mr. Riddle.}

Hunter felt happy when reading that, except when he was called Mr. Riddle. Hunter never much liked being called Mr. Brooks back before he was a Horcrux, either. He’d feel sorry for her if their roles were reversed, but being sorry won’t change things. Hunter cleared his mind and replied.

“It’s fine, Miss Weasley. I’m just glad to have a friendly and promising witch to talk to. And please, call me Tom. Mr. Riddle was my father. How was dinner?”

{It was fine. I couldn’t talk to Harry again and was harassed by Mum, then got called a nerd by my brother Ron just because I wanted to come back here instead of playing quidditch with him. Thankfully Mum shut that down before it turned into a full on argument. I wanted to tell her about the diary during dinner, but I couldn’t bring myself to do so. I may do it tomorrow.}

Hunter became tense in an instant. If he said the wrong thing, then it was game over. Molly Weasley would take the diary to Dumbledore, who would probably destroy it as soon as possible.

I could tell her no, Hunter thought, but that might make me too suspicious to keep hidden. I tell her yes, she might tell Molly. What should I do? WHAT SHOULD I DO!?

Hunter panicked. He couldn’t make up his mind, just like that time when… When… Hunter couldn’t remember the event, just that he panicked and his parents chastised him for not making a decision.

This is no time to think about the past, me! I need to think of a plan. Eureka! That’s it! Hunter had a plan.

“If you want to tell her, go ahead. Though you may not like her reaction.”

{What do you mean?}

“Think about it. You said your mom bought this diary at Flourish and Blotts. A reputable seller like Flourish and Blotts would never even take in, let alone sell, a magical item that could harm a person. This diary was likely sold as an aid for advanced students, yet your mom bought it for you, meaning she bought it because she trusts you to do well at school and keep something like this a secret. After all, what would your brother Ron say if he heard she got you something special but not him?”

{So Mum trusted me with this and wants me to keep it a secret?}

“Exactly. Your mom set you up for success, and couldn’t have picked a better person for her daughter to learn from than me. I was the best in all my classes at Hogwarts, was a prefect, and even won the Special Award for Service to the School. In fact, you’ll be able to see it in the trophy room once you get there.”

{You sound a lot like Percy}

“Who’s Percy?” feigned Hunter.

{He’s one of my older brothers. He’s a prefect of Gryffindor and achieved twelve O.W.L.s. He’s way too strict and boring, though.}

Oh yeah, Mr. ‘By-the-Book’ himself, thought Hunter. Can’t come off sounding like him. Ginny wouldn’t like that.

“I’m nothing like that. Sometimes, to do what’s right requires breaking rules. It's how I won a S.A.S.S., after all. Now, then, let’s make sure you start school off on the right foot. Are you ready?”

{I’m ready}

Chapter Text

Before either Ginny or Hunter knew it, the last two weeks of summer had flown by. In the thirteen days since the diary had been opened, the two had grown rather close. She asked him question after question about the first-year curriculum, and Hunter answered every single one. He even taught Ginny a few first year spells! With the leg up he’d given her, Hunter knew that Ginny would be one of the brightest students in her year, if not the brightest student.

The two also discussed stuff besides academics, although this was a bit more one sided. Hunter didn’t want to give away that he came from another world or that this book was once the dark lord. He did, however, give away vague stuff here and there and Ginny told him about her hobbies, likes, and even about Harry Potter. If he wasn’t just half of a soul haunting a diary, Hunter would definitely consider Ginny his friend.

When Ginny wasn’t communicating with him, Hunter double and triple checked all of Tom Riddle’s memories for any lead on resurrecting a Horcrux. As expected, he found no such lead. 

As much as I loathe it, it appears I must stick to canon, at least for the first two months, Hunter thought. The Chamber of Secrets is too valuable to not open. Salazar’s bound to have some useful down there. Maybe he even had an insight with Horcruxes? Opening it, however, will release his basilisk, which means I have to deal with it. I should then be able to keep them under control, so nobody has to get petrified this time! 

Hunter's train of thought was interrupted by Ginny writing in the diary:

{Good evening Tom!}

Hunter swore he could hear the whisper of a young British girl reading her message as he read it.

I must be going crazy, he thought. Resurrection can’t come soon enough.

Hunter rid himself of the thought and replied to Ginny: “Good evening to you, Ginny. Are you excited for tomorrow? Nervous?”

{I’m almost packed up and more excited than nervous thanks to you.}

There’s that voice again! thought Hunter.

“I’m glad I was able to ease some of your worries about Hogwarts,” Hunter replied.

{I still have a few concerns, though. I’m nervous about the sorting ceremony. Everyone has been silent when I’ve asked them about it and I’m scared because last year I overheard Fred and George telling Ron he had to face a troll, and Ron and Harry both mentioned they fought a troll. I’m not ready to face a troll. Please tell me they were wrong.}

Hunter wanted to simultaneously laugh and cry. On one hand, Ginny was scared. On the other hand, though, was Hunter remembering Professor Quirrell’s troll scene from the first movie and how ridiculous Draco looked freaking out over the aforementioned troll. It was hands down one of the best scenes of that film in Hunter's opinion.

“The staff at Hogwarts like to keep the sorting ceremony a secret for traditions’ sake. I don’t want to take the magic of the surprise away from you, but I can say for certain that there will be no trolls. There may be danger afoot tomorrow night, but it’s nothing you can’t handle. After all, I have taught you more than a few combat spells.”

{Thank you for putting me at ease, Tom. Do you have any last bits of advice?}

Hunter paused. He could warn Ginny about Harry and Ron being blocked from Platform 9¾. In fact, he probably should. But it would cause things to deviate from canon.

He has been through a lot, though , thought Hunter, and is only going to face more trouble in the future. Harry deserves to start the year off right. I mean, how badly could this screw up canon?

“Tell your parents to not leave the station until Harry is on the train. From what you’ve told me, that boy is a trouble magnet, so it wouldn’t surprise me if something, or someone, tried to prevent him from getting to school.”

{I’ll tell them in the morning. Good night.}

“Good night. Sleep well and good luck tomorrow!”

The girl’s voice from earlier rang out once again and the void became darker again. Hunter looked down at his arms and… wait what!?! Hunter looked ‘up’ then back ‘down’ and sure enough he now had opaque outlines of arms shrouded in the same silvery-grey as the wisps.

Hunter only had a single thought: How is this possible?

Ginny’s morning had gone rather smoothly. She was the first one up and the first one out the door when it came time to head to King’s Cross. Of course, she told her parents to make sure Harry got on the train before leaving. Her parents were dismissive of her at first, but when she kept insisting that something bad would happen to Harry, their faces went pale. Her parents wouldn’t elaborate any further and instead focused on getting her on the Hogwarts Express. Fred and George, though, were more than willing to enlighten their sister. It turns out that the duo plus Ron had saved the Boy-Who-Lived from illegal imprisonment by his so-called “family.” A house elf, who had also been taking Harry’s mail all summer, appeared on his birthday and ruined the party that said family was throwing. 

Ginny felt sick just thinking about it. W-why would anyone lock up a kid for a mischievous house elf?

Luckily, Ginny managed to grab a compartment all for herself, at least for a bit. Multiple times Ginny thought of talking with Tom, but each time she either didn’t follow through or stopped herself at the last minute.

The door to her compartment opened, revealing Harry and Ron’s friend, Hermione, and a familiar looking girl with almost-white hair.

"Hello Ginny, have you seen Harry and Ron?” asked Hermione.

Ginny sighed. It was nice while it lasted . Wait… She hasn’t seen Harry or Ron?!?

“You mean you haven’t seen them?”

Hermione nodded.

“Have you searched every car?”

“No,” replied Hermione, “but I was going to. I ran into this lovely first-year student wandering the train carriages with nowhere to sit. Do you mind if she sits with you?”

Ginny nodded.

“Great!” said Hermione. “I’m going to search the rest of the train. I’ll let you know if I find them.”

Hermione promptly left, leaving Ginny alone with her fellow first-year. Said first-year skittishly made her way into the compartment, taking the seat directly across from Ginny.

"Long time no see, Loony," said Ginny affectionately.

"Yeah," replied Luna Lovegood. "Daddy and I have been busy hunting for heliopaths and crumple-horned snorkacks. It helps keep the wrackspurts from using Mummy against him."

"Oh," said Ginny. "Sorry I wasn't at the funeral. My mum didn't let me go."

"It's okay."

The two first-years spent the next 10 or so minutes in silence. They tried to talk to one another a few times, but both stopped themselves at the last second. Noise returned to the compartment when Hermione came back to Ginny’s compartment. 

"I can't find them anywhere!" she said angrily as she sat down next to Ginny.

Behind Hermione was her fellow second-year, Neville Longbottom. He sheepishly waved at the three and took the last remaining seat in the compartment.

“Where could those two have gone?” pondered Neville. “I hope they’re not in trouble or anything.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time those troublemakers found some,” said Hermione.

Ginny winced, then sighed. “I had a feeling something like this would happen.”

“What do you mean?” said Neville, Hermione, and Luna almost simultaneously.

“Well,” Ginny said, “I had a bad feeling about Harry, and so I asked my parents to make sure he got on the train. It turns out some house elf has been causing him trouble all summer, first by hijacking all his mail-”

Hermione interrupted Ginny. “He never got my letters?” Hermione groaned. “Oh gosh, I feel like such a jerk for being mad at him for ignoring me all summer.”

“I’m sure Harry will forgive you,” said Neville. “Anyways, you were saying, Ginny?”

“As I was saying, that house elf hijacked his mail then ruined the party Harry’s guardians were throwing on his birthday. I don’t know many of the details, just that Fred, George, and Ron busted him out of his ‘jail cell’ and brought him to the Burrow for the remainder of Summer. Mum and Dad didn’t believe me at first, but then they got pale and didn’t elaborate. Hopefully they listened to me, otherwise my brother and his friend are in trouble.”

Luna's eyes widened as she looked out the window. "I think they’re just fine.”

"What?" said Hermione and Ginny in sync.

There, outside the window, was the Weasley’s iconic flying Ford Anglia, flying parallel to their train car. The two aforementioned boys waved out of the two passenger side windows, Ron sitting in back while Harry rode shotgun. Ginny looked behind him and saw her dad at the wheel. Arthur turned his head and locked eyes with Ginny, smiled, then appeared to talk to the boys. They then got back away from the windows and flew back into the clouds with the car.

“Yeah, they’ll get to school just fine,” said Hermione.

Ginny smiled, happy her parents actually listened to her, and thankful for the warning from her friend Tom Riddle.

Chapter Text

Ginny sat angrily at her desk, her quill practically poking at the paper.

{You lied to me!} 

Tom responded immediately. 

{When did I lie to you?}

{You said there’d be dangers at the sorting ceremony. I vowed to protect my fellow first-years and told them to stay behind me because of my accurate information. All we had to face was a crotchety old talking hat! I’ve made an embarrassment of myself thanks to you!}

Lines of writing appeared on the blank diary page.

{I never said the sorting ceremony would be dangerous. Just that it might be dangerous and that you had the capability to defend yourself against any potential danger. At least there wasn’t a troll! And congratulations on being sorted into Gryffindor!}

Ginny looked down at Tom’s response, perplexed and a bit worried.

{How did you know I was sorted into Gryffindor?

{The hat takes your house preference into consideration, and you seemed like you wanted to be in the same house as your brothers and crush. Plus, you’re a Weasley. Your family has always been sorted into Gryffindor, even since before my time.}

That explains it, thought Ginny. Wait a minute… crush?!?

Blushing, she replied to Tom.

{What do you mean crush?}

{You do remember we’ve talked about him right? Every time you brought him up it was either to express how amazing he is or berating yourself about not being able to talk to him. Nervousness and inability to talk to someone is a clear sign you have a crush on them.}

Ginny groaned and pressed the quill into the paper.

{I don’t like him like that! And it’s not like I could date him now. We’re way too young.}

{Whatever you say, Gin. Whatever you say. Would you like to talk about something else?}

{Yes!}

Her one-word reply faded into the paper. Nothing appeared on the paper for a few moments, likely Tom trying to think of a new topic for them to discuss. Not long thereafter, Ginny had her answer.

{Did anything interesting happen at the sorting ceremony?}

{Yeah. Harry and Ron didn’t make it to the train in time, but, thanks to your warning, my parents were there to take the two to school with our family car. They still arrived at the Great Hall late and were given detention by Professor Snape for it. That man always seems to have it out for Gryffindors, but he especially hates Harry.}

As the first message began to fade, Ginny scribbled a second one below it:

{Thank you for warning me about Harry!}

Both messages faded and were quickly replaced by a response.

{Professor Snape sounds like such an ass. What class does he teach? Because he will probably do his best to make that class a living hell for you, both for being in Gryffindor and your association with Harry. Also, no problem! I’m glad I was able to help him.}

Ginny giggled reading that. Who knew a diary could swear? She wrote back to him that Professor Snape taught potions class and that her brothers warned her that he was a rather strict teacher.

{Looks like I’ll be helping you with potions as well, then! We already needed a space to go over the spells I taught you, so I know just the place where we can do both. And the best part is that nobody will be able to interrupt us.}

Ginny was confused.

{Why do I need to go over the spells if you already taught them to me?}

{Because you’ve never practiced them. I explained the movements and the incantations to you, but you have never used the spells before. Kinda impossible to do so at home if you don’t want to get caught.}

He does make a good point. I really should practice the spells he taught me .

{That makes sense. When can we start, and where is this training room?}

Tom’s reply was immediate:

{I’ll take you to the hidden room during the weekend. As for where it is, you’ll just have to wait and see.}

Ginny smiled. She wrote Tom a good night message, closed the diary, hid it, then went to bed.

Hunter smiled at Ginny’s response. Yes, he smiled. Between Ginny’s diary sessions he noticed he felt himself smile. It appears that in the almost two weeks that Ginny has been using the diary, Hunter's form had undergone some kind of transformation. First the arms and now the mouth. Then there was the mystery of the voice he kept hearing when Ginny’s entries appeared.

I wish I had a mirror, thought Hunter.

Not even a second later, a mirror materialized in front of the trapped soul. Hunter looked at his reflection. How, though, remained a mystery, as his face was devoid of any features except for a mouth. The face he was looking at reminded him a lot of the character Truth from the manga-turned-anime Fullmetal Alchemist . In fact, his entire body reminded him of Truth’s appearance. It was identical in almost every way, with the only difference being Hunter's body was silvery-grey rather than white.

Hunter chuckled at the realization. I’m already considering using the Philosopher’s Stone to give myself a new body. Might as well steal more from Fullmetal Alchemist while I’m at it. What do I do with the mirror, though? Can I make it go away?

The mirror was still there, floating in the void.

Mirror, disappear! Hunter commanded.

The mirror evaporated before him, returning the void back to its prior state. Hunter smiled at that.

So I can summon at least a mirror now. Very interesting.

With that out of the way, Hunter turned his attention towards the outside world. His manipulation of canon was the first thing on his mind. Thanks to his intervention, Harry and Ron didn’t wreck the Weasley’s flying Ford Anglia and destroy the Whomping Willow. 

Yet despite the Whomping Willow still standing undamaged, Snape gave Harry and Ron detention. If I had to guess, those two won’t be serving as many detentions as they otherwise would have. So, mission accomplished, I guess?

Hunter turned his attention towards Ginny and their upcoming practical on Saturday. The place to take her was obvious - the Room of Requirement. Not only could it be whatever room they would need, it was also not located on the Marauder's Map. Plus Ginny could use it as a bedroom should she miss curfew. 

There was just one problem - Hunter's help was rather limited. He’d have no way to see her in action.

If only I could practice magic with her, Hunter pondered. I wonder…

Hunter thought a command and a fraction of a second later a wand appeared in his left hand. Or rather, what Hunter thought was a wand. Sure, it was in the shape of a wand, but it lacked any details like color or texture, instead being the same color as Hunter and the wisps. Assuming his wand wouldn’t kill him, Hunter then conjured up a training dummy some distance away from him. As with everything in this realm, the dummy and its wand were both featureless.

Hunter called out a spell and the appropriate wand movement: “Expelliarmus!”

The tip of the wand glowed and expelled a burst of magic. Across from Hunter, the training dummy was now without a wand.

“Yes! Yes! I can practice magic here!”

For the rest of the time Hunter had to himself, he practiced the spells he wanted Ginny to practice. On this night, training dummy after training dummy met their end at the hands of Hunter.

Chapter Text

Before Ginny knew it, Saturday was upon her. Her first few days at Hogwarts had been mostly uneventful. Her classes had been what she expected, including Professor Snape’s disdain for the youngest Weasley and the rest of the Gryffindors. Luckily for her, Hunter's advice helped her survive potions class. Sure, it was basically “keep your head down,” but it kept Snape’s attention off her, mostly.

Ginny found herself on the 7th floor of Hogwarts, opposite the tapestry depicting Barnabas the Barmy attempting to teach trolls ballet. The night before, she had gone over the route Hunter gave her to reach the place she was to train. As expected, there was no door. She paced back and forth three times, thinking of the room Hunter told her about. After the third pass, Ginny looked back at the blank wall and found it no longer empty, but featuring a simple wooden door. 

Entering the now visible room, ,found herself in awe. The room in which she found herself was even better than she had thought. The well lit room had smooth stone walls that stood 5 meters tall. To Ginny’s right was a soft, red sofa with two end tables. In front of her was a long, narrow gallery at the end of which were three white, featureless mannequins in battle poses dressed in black robes and holding fake wands. The floor was made of hardwood, except for a thin red line which denoted the starting line for the targets.

Ginny set the diary on the stone plinth by the gallery’s starting line. She opened it, and wrote:

{I’m here. What spell am I practicing first?}

Tom was quick to reply.

{None. First you’ll be stretching your muscles. I know you’re excited to practice, but warming up is important. Strained muscles are no joke.}

Ginny groaned before realizing something: Tom can’t tell if she’s stretched or not. The girl went to lie to her mentor in the diary, but a second reply from him stopped her.

{I know I can’t tell if you stretched or not, but I trust you to do the right thing. I can, however, make an educated guess if you tell me you’re done stretching too soon.}

Ginny smiled. He trusts me? I don’t want to let Tom down. I won’t let him down!

Ginny spent the next few minutes stretching, focusing in particular on her arms. When Ginny was done, she informed Tom, who congratulated her for her wise choice.

{The best way to win a fight is to stop it before it starts. So, the first spell you’ll be working on is the disarming charm, whose incantation is ‘Expelliarmis’. Remember, It’s pronounced ex-PEL-lee-ar-muss, not ex-pel-lee-AR-muss! Pronunciation is important for it to work, after all. For this you’ll want to raise your wand arm, say the incantation, then do an under-armed pitch.}

Ginny stood behind the red-line, raised her right arm, then said the incantation and did the correct wand movement. The spell fired from her wand and made the mannequin’s wand fly out of its hand, hitting the back wall with a thud. She then informed Tom of her further success.

{Great job! Now, do it again and focus on minimizing the size of your wand movements. Stop once the spell’s power gets too small to hit the targets or doesn’t activate.}

Ginny did just that, firing disarming charm after disarming charm. Each time she disarmed the 4th mannequin, said mannequins and their wands reset. On the 6th try, the spell failed to hit. Ginny stepped back, grabbed the diary, and sat down on the couch.

{I managed to disarm my targets 6 times. I wasn’t able to decrease the wand movement that much, though.}

{It’s okay! You did well for your first time and lasted a bit longer than I thought you would. Rest on the couch for a bit, maybe get some homework done, and we’ll move on to the next spell when you feel up to it.}

Ginny spent the next half an hour finishing her homework for charms class. Of all her teachers, her charms teacher, Professor Flitwick, was her favorite. He was good at teaching, unlike Snape and Lockhart, and had this air of approachability that Professor McGonnagall lacked. As a result, Ginny wasn’t surprised to find charms class being her favorite class. Once she finished her charms homework, she contacted Tom again.

{The next spell you’ll be practicing is the summoning charm, also known by its incantation, Accio. For this one, the wand movement is simply an arc.}

{How do I pronounce it?}

{AH-kee-oh, of course. Now, practice summoning the mannequins’ wands to you. If you’re up for a challenge, try summoning their robes without ripping them.}

Ginny once again lined up at the gallery and said “Accio wand!” but no wand came to her. It took her only a second to realize her mistake and to correct it.

“Accio far left mannequin’s wand!”

The aforementioned mannequin’s wand flew out of its hand and into Ginny’s left hand. A smile broke out on her face and she silently cheered. Ginny practiced the spell a few more times, even managing to get the robe off one of the mannequins. When she was done, Ginny retrieved the diary for further instructions.

Tom had Ginny practice three more spells, which she found to be easier than the summoning charm, before stopping for the evening. He did say that any time Ginny wanted to practice here, Tom would help her, so she knew she’d be back soon. She walked away from the door and heard it disappear. Then she cast the tempus charm and paled. It was past curfew and she wasn’t in her room.

Ginny walked quietly inside the dark castle. It was almost twelve o'clock now, and there was no firelight in the corridor. The wind blew from all directions howled in the darkness, and the tall trees outside the castle swayed their branches in the wind. All of this frightened Ginny. She had been on edge ever since she fled down the stairs from the Room of Requirement. The plan Hunter had given her in case she ended up in this scenario was simply to reconfigure the room into a simple bedroom. Ginny tried to follow the plan, but something unexpected happened on her second pass - footsteps came from down the hall towards the Gryffindor common room and were heading towards her. The young girl panicked and bolted down the stairs, which she followed for several flights.

When she emerged from the stairs, Ginny found herself totally lost. She did not dare to cast a Lumos charm, lest she attract the attention of Mr. Filch or his cat, Mrs. Norris. Ginny swore she could hear that cat’s angry meowing while she ran down the stairs. At least, she hoped it was that cat. The alternative sounded far scarier.

Ginny continued to move further away from the stairs. Sure, it would be smarter to stay put, but she didn’t want detention in the Forbidden Forest. 

I wish Tom was here, thought Ginny. He wouldn't have let me get lost. What would he tell me if I could talk to him right now?

She pulled the diary from her bag and held it to her chest, her knuckles turning white, trying to draw comfort or courage from it. Each step she took brought her further into the unknown, but also felt lighter. The fear she held slowly dissipated. With determination, Ginny walked to the first opened room she could find. That turned out to be easier said than done.

Sometime later, Ginny came to a left turn and took it, coming upon two majestic doors, one of which was slightly ajar. She entered the room and found herself surrounded by a sea of silver, wood, and gold. Trophies and plaques from various years lined the walls of the room, the plethora of metal only interrupted by the occasional window that brought in rays of moonlight. 

After making sure she was alone, Ginny cast a Lumos charm and explored the room. She found trophies for a variety of competitions, including the last five trophies used for the annual House Cup. Each one looked the same, the winning house and the year said house won adorning their bases. There were also plaques for quidditch and even a trophy for a chess tournament from 1989 awarded to someone named E. Nygma. Then she came across a relatively bare spot on the wall, containing only a handful of plaques. One in particular stood out to Ginny, a gold plated one which read:

Special Award for Services to the School

Tom Riddle

1943

So this is Tom’s service award. I wonder what he earned it for? 

Ginny inspected the awards plaque and the surrounding area for any clue on Tom’s achievements, but unfortunately only found more S.A.S.S. plaques, the latest one before Tom’s having been awarded in 1891. Her curiosity sated, Ginny decided to cut her losses and ask Tom for help getting back to her room. She started to open the diary but stopped suddenly. A hand had reached out from the darkness and grabbed Ginny's wrist.

“Got you!”

Chapter Text

“Got you!”

Ginny screamed but was quickly silenced by another hand covering her mouth. Said hand did not let up until she stopped screaming, at which point she turned around and saw two identical red-headed boys.

“Fred, George!?!” hissed Ginny. “What are you doing here?”

“Why, to rescue you, of course,” said the twins simultaneously.

“You broke curfew,” said Fred.

“And we can’t have our sister getting caught,” said George.

“So let’s get going before Filch finds us,” said Fred.

George then grabbed Ginny’s arm and led her out of the trophy room.

They only made it a few feet before Fred put out his arm in front of Ginny and George. “Shh! Filch is nearby.”

Fred moved back while Ginny peaked around the corner. Sure enough, down the hall was none other than the balding, crotchety Mr. Filch and his dust-colored cat, Mrs. Norris. Said cat was sniffing the ground intensely as she walked, her owner not far behind her.

“We’ll find those troublemakers yet, Mrs. Norris!” said Mr. Filch.

Mrs. Norris meowed, then halted and looked up towards the direction of the Weasley siblings. Ginny quickly slid away from the corner, her heart rapidly beating.

“Did you find something?” said Mr. Filch.

Ginny heard a noise from the loyal cat, but did not know how to interpret it.

“I know you’re around here, delinquents!” called out Mr. Filch. “Come out now and face your punishment!” When nobody responded, Filch got angrier. “The more you wait the worse your punishment gets. Come. Out. Now!”

Mr. Filch stormed towards where the Weasley siblings hid. Halfway there, though, a loud thud rang out from the opposite direction.

“Aha! I’ve got them, Mrs. Norris! After them!”

Ginny’s heart raced as Mr. Filch ran further and further away from her. Once she no longer heard anything besides her own heart, Ginny let out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.  That was too close.

“You alright, Ginny?” asked Fred.

“Does she look alright to you?” replied George. “She’s still shaking like a leaf.”

Ginny hadn’t even noticed. At that moment Fred gave Ginny a hug and gave soothing affirmations to her.

“It’s okay,” said Fred, “you’re safe now. Filch won’t catch you tonight, or ever. He hasn’t even caught us since our first year. Right, George?”

“That’s right,” said George with confidence.

The twins then lead Ginny to a statue of a hunchback, one-eyed witch. The base of the statue had a plaque that most likely had the witch’s name and lifespan, but Ginny was not given the time to read it.

Fred pulled his wand from his robe, tapped it on the statue, then cast a spell: “Dissendium.”

The statue’s hunchback lifted, revealing the entrance to a passageway. Fred entered the passageway, followed by George and Ginny. Just before the hump closed, Fred cast an illumination charm, preventing them from being stuck in total darkness.

The twins lead Ginny through the passage full of twists and turns and a few inclines. All the while, none uttered a sound.

“Thanks for saving me,” said Ginny, breaking the silence.

“You’re welcome,” said the twins in unison.

“After all, Mum would kill us if you got detention your first week,” added Fred.

George replied with a punch to Fred’s shoulder. “Fred, you at least have to pretend to be noble for Ginny, you prat!”

“That’s no reason to hit me!” said Fred.

The red-headed trio returned to silence for a bit longer until they reached a dead end. George tapped the aforementioned dead end, causing it to open and reveal a less dark hallway. They all then exited the passageway, George un-casting his illumination charm. As she exited, Ginny discovered that the passageway had been hidden behind a familiar painting, causing her to smile.

Yes! Ginny thought. We’re on the seventh floor near the tower. We’re safe, now!

They were not entirely safe, however, as they soon found themselves accosted by an all-too familiar ghost.

“Typical Gryffindor’s out braving the castle at night, I see. You troubling twins are a familiar sight to me, but to the younger girl I may be quite a fright.” The ghost’s head then detached itself from the body… nearly detached, that is.

Ginny shrieked. “Nearly Headless Nick!”

The twins laughed while the aforementioned ghost groaned and reattached his head.

“I would prefer you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpinngton, thank you very much!” Sir Nicholas pointed at the twins. “And you two! How dare you try to corrupt your sister. This school suffers enough with just you two; the last thing we need is a third Weasley prankster.”

“You don’t give us enough credit,” said the twins simultaneously.

“We’re just here to rescue our little sister,” said Fred.

“Can’t have her getting detention her first week, now,” said George.

Sir Nicholas stared at the twins, as if studying them. 

Ginny broke the brief silence. “They’re telling the truth, Sir Nicholas. I was exploring the castle and lost track of time when they found me and all but dragged me back here.”

“Well that’s very chivalrous of you, gentlemen,” said Sir Nicholas. “Now, get back to Gryffindor Tower. Filch is a floor below us going crazy trying to catch these footsteps he keeps rambling about.”

The three continued on their way and soon reached the entrance to Gryffindor Tower. The Fat Lady gave them a discerning glare, but let them through without a comment. When they reached the couches, Ginny grabbed her brothers’ wrists.

“How did you find me?”

Fred and George glanced back and forth at each other. “That’s a secret,” they both said. “One of many that we can’t tell you.”

Ginny gave her brothers a scrutinizing gaze. “Fine, keep your secrets. Everyone's got some.”

Fred and George immediately giggled, struggling to keep quiet.

“Come on, Ginny,” said Fred. “You don’t have a secret. Everyone in the family knows you love Harry.”

“Except for Ronniekins,” George added. “He’s good at chess but terrible at almost everything else.”

Fred laughed. “Quite true, George.”

Even Ginny laughed at George’s comment.

“We should probably get some sleep,” said Ginny. “Good night.”

She waved her brothers goodbye and sneaked her way to her room. From there she tiptoed to her bed, laid down, and was fast asleep only a few minutes later.

Chapter Text

The three weeks after Ginny’s first visit to the Room of Requirement were rather uneventful. It did not take long for her to establish a routine. Classes were alright (save for Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts) and she spent a few hours each week training in the Room of Requirement, alternating between Tuesday and Thursday. Ginny wanted to do so both days each week, but Tom insisted on alternating it each week, as well as the time she went to the room, to minimize her chances of getting caught. She got irritated at him when he suggested she stay out past curfew, but he more than made up for it by explaining how she could conjure a bed while still in the Room of Requirement. Now she had a place to sleep when she wanted a night to herself. Thanks to Tom Riddle, Ginny’s first year at Hogwarts was almost perfect.

The only problem was that Ginny had yet to connect with any of her yearmates. Her roommates were cordial with her, sure, but they were just too intense for Ginny. Plus, the few times she did try to join their hang out sessions it had just been incredibly awkward. The first-year Gryffindor boys weren’t that interesting, either.

It was thanks to her lack of friends that Ginny found herself running to Charms class on the last Thursday of September. She had overslept and none of her roommates had been considerate enough to wake her before they left. As a result, Ginny had to skip breakfast and scramble to get out of Gryffindor Tower in time.

Ginny made it to the door to Charms class just as the hallway had emptied of other students. She opened the door, only to find Professor Flitwick waiting for her. He silently invited her in and she obliged, finding the whole class’ gaze upon her.

Ginny gulped. Professor Flitwick then closed the classroom door and made his way to the center of the class, where he motioned for Ginny to stop.

“Thank you for joining us, Miss Weasley,” said Professor Flitwick. “I’ll let your tardiness go this time. Just make sure not to make a habit out of it. I’d hate to see you in detention.”

“Sorry, professor,” said Ginny. “It won’t happen again.”

Professor Flitwick smiled. “Thank you, Miss Weasley. Now, please find a seat.”

Ginny quietly made her way to the last available seat in class, which was right up front next to fellow Gryffindor Colin Creevey.

Professor Flitwick started to write on the blackboard. “Alright, class, today we’ll be learning how to cast the levitation charm. Please open your textbooks to page 17.”

The students did so while Professor Flitwick continued to write on the board. He stepped back, revealing a heading of ‘Levitation Charm’ with empty bullet points beneath it.

“Who can tell me the incantation of the levitation charm?”

Hands were raised across the room, mainly Ravenclaws, but a few Gryffindors did, too. Ginny, however, did not. Next to her, Colin waved his hand around and muttered “pick me” over and over again, much to Ginny’s chagrin.

Professor Flitwick noticed Colin’s antics and called on the first year.

“Wingardium Leviosa!” exclaimed the blonde first-year.

“Correct, Mr. Creevey,” said Professor Flitwick as he wrote it on the board. “Five points to Gryffindor for studiousness, and three points from Gryffindor for disruptive behavior. Waving your hand around won’t make the professor want to call on you most of the time.”

Colin frowned as Ginny heard some snickering from the Ravenclaws sitting behind her.

“Next question: who invented the levitation charm?”

This time, Professor Flitwick called on one of the Ravenclaws. Luna Lovegood started to answer, but was spoken over by her tablemate.

“Jarleth Hobart, professor!” said the student. 

Professor Flitwick wrote it down on the board, but he was not smiling. “Five points from Ravenclaw for lack of courtesy. I called on Miss Lovegood, not you, Miss Simmons. The next time you interrupt a student, it will be detention.” 

“Now, for a bonus question: how does the levitation charm differ from the levitation spell?”

Nobody raised their hands.

“Anyone?” asked Professor Flitwick.

Ginny turned around and saw Luna raise her hand.

“Yes, Miss Lovegood?”

“T-the levitation charm allows the caster to move the object they are levitating while the levitation spell does not.”

“Correct! For answering my bonus question, Ravenclaw shall receive 10 points.”

Professor Flitwick quickly wrote down the points he had given out so far before continuing the lecture. “While Hobart did not accomplish his goal of a charm that would grant its caster flight, what he did develop has proven invaluable to the wizarding world. Thanks to him, a single man can lift an entire boulder all by himself and move it tens of feet! Of course, I won’t have you all levitating boulders for your first cast. For this class you’ll be levitating feathers!”

Professor Flitwick cast a series of spells, causing a cabinet to open and feathers to fly to each desk spot occupied by a student. Students eagerly grabbed their wands and prepared to cast. 

As students prepared to cast the charm, Professor Flitwick motioned for them to stop. “Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practicing! Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is very important, too - never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest."

The students got to work casting the charm. Ginny, of course, cast the charm with ease. She even got the feather to move around in intricate patterns. Professor Flitwick was quick to notice, as he made a b-line for Ginny’s seat.

“Ten points to Gryffindor for such flawless casting!” said the professor.

“Thank you, professor,” replied Ginny. “Could I try practicing on something heavier?”

Professor Flitwick frowned. “We’ll see, Miss Weasley. Perhaps in the meantime you could assist Mr. Creevey in getting his feather levitating?”

Professor Flitwick walked away before Ginny could respond. She groaned, then deactivated her charm and reluctantly turned to help her neighbor. Colin was waving his wand and saying the incantation, but all that created was sparks on the tip of his wand.

“You’re doing it wrong,” said Ginny. Colin put down his wand and looked at his fellow first-year Gryffindor. “You have the wand movement down, but your pronunciation is off. Make the ‘gar’ and ‘oh’ nice and long and you should at least get the feather off the table.”

Colin followed her advice and was rewarded with a feather barely hovering over the table. He cheered and muttered something about Harry Potter, but Ginny paid no mind to it. Instead, she waited for Professor Flitwick to bring her something else to practice the levitation charm on. Professor Flitwick, however, never came back to her table. Instead, Ginny was stuck sitting there for most of the remaining time. At one point, he wrote the homework assignment on the board, so Ginny managed to at least get that started before heading to Transfiguration class.

Chapter Text

Transfiguration class was rather uneventful. There was nothing new to learn since there was a test scheduled for the following class, so Professor McGonagall used the period to review the material. At least she didn’t assign extra homework due on exam day. 

Lunch had been a similar affair. Without a group of friends, meals were rather lonely for Ginny. So, the youngest Weasley, like usual, made her lunch as brief as possible. Where she went after lunch depended on the day. Since it was Thursday, Ginny returned to Gryffindor Tower where she planned to do some reading before leaving for the Room of Requirement. 

Today, Ginny sat in one of the comfy chairs in front of the fireplace. The chairs and sofa was Ginny’s favorite place in the common room, and their popularity during the evening suggested that most students preferred that spot as well. Luckily for Ginny, she managed to beat everyone back from lunch and therefore had her pick of seating.

Since she had double potions class the next day, Ginny decided to review the material in her potions textbook. She didn’t want to give Snape a reason to dock house points from her, after all. So she opened her textbook and began reading. Despite the boring nature of the book, Ginny quickly became engrossed in it. She became so engrossed in her reading, that she only barely heard the Fat Lady’s portrait open. A few moments later, her peace was interrupted.

“Last I checked Ravenclaw was the house for bookworms.” Ginny looked up and saw her youngest brother entering the common room with a cheeky grin on his face.

“At least she’s taking her studies seriously!” said Hermione, walking into the common room with Harry in tow.

“It’s not my fault they’re teaching us boring stuff!” replied Ron. “How do they expect us to learn anything when they just drone on about boring drivel?”

“Magic isn’t boring,” said Hermione. “Right, Harry?”

Harry didn’t answer, instead moving his eyes back and forth between his two friends.

“Well, Harry? Tell her how boring school is!” said Ron.

Harry gulped. “Magic is so fascinating to those of us raised by muggles, but school sure does have a way of taking the fun out of it.”

“Binns is rather boring,” said Ginny. She saw Harry look at her and blushed, then quickly turned her gaze back to her textbook.

“You got that right!” shouted a girl from the top of the girls’ stairs. Said girl hurried down the stairs and popped into the main room, revealing herself to be fourth-year Alicia Spinnet.

“Hey, Alicia,” said Harry. “What brings you down here?”

“Just waiting for the twins so we can review for CMC.”

“CMC? What’s that?” asked Ron.

Realizing she would not be getting any reading done soon, Ginny put down her book.

“Care of Magical Creatures,” answered Alicia. “It’s an elective offered to third-years and above.”

At that moment, Fred and George entered the common room. “Did ickle Ronniekins forget about his favorite elective?” asked the twins in unison.

The twins then made their way to the common room’s chess set and sat down.

Ron scowled. “I did not! And it’s divination I’m looking forward to the most, not Care of Magical Creatures.”

“Typical Ron, always looking for the easy classes,” said Fred.

“At least my nose isn’t constantly shoved in a book like Ginny’s!”

“He’s got quite a point, Gred,” said George.

“Quite right, Forge,” said Fred. “Ginny’s almost as much of a Ravenclaw as Hermione when she isn’t swooning over a certain someone.”

George and Ron laughed. “If it wasn’t for that we could call her Mini Hermione!” said George.

“Or Hermi-mini!” said Ron. “It’s perfect!”

“Knock it off, Ron!” said Hermione.

“Yeah, Ron,” said Harry. “We don’t have time to tease your sister, not when there’s a class focused on dealing with giant spiders and unicorns.” Ron shivered at the mention of giant spiders. “Do they expect us to take class in the Forbidden Forest?”

Alicia and Hermione laughed. “That’s not what that class is like at all,” said Alicia. “Sure, you’ll encounter unicorns, but it won’t be in the Forbidden Forest. Professor Kettleburn takes us out to the paddocks near Hagrid’s Hut to safely interact with magical creatures. It’s quite a marvelous class once you learn some key safety tips.”

“That does sound like quite the useful class,” said Hermione.

“It’s also a very popular class,” said Alicia. “But it’s hard work and not an easy O.” She turned towards Fred and George. “Speaking of work, why are you two over there?!?”

“Our bad!” The twins promptly stood up and went to the larger table where Alicia sat.

“Anyone up for a game of chess?” Ron asked.

Nobody answered him.

“Fine! I’ll play by myself… again!” Ron made his way to one of the chairs and sat down. His rest did not last for more than a moment, however.

“Ouch!” Ron jumped out of the chair and onto the floor.

As Ron rolled around on the floor grabbing his butt, Ginny got a glance at what set it off - a small bronze trinket that nearly blended into the red fabric of the chair. The twins, meanwhile, were laughing like hyenas, much to Ginny’s chagrin.

Hermione raised her hands. “That’s it! If you want to goof off, then I’m going to my room! See you later!” Hermione walked to the girls’ staircase and walked up them.

Ginny saw Harry looking at the girls’ staircase with longing in his eyes. As for what he was longing for, Ginny could only speculate. Regardless, Ginny’s mind was quick to assume the worst.

H-he loves Hermione, doesn’t he? thought Ginny, tears starting to fall down her face. The sounds of everyone around her turned into an overbearing buzzing as her breath quickened. I can’t take it!

Ginny promptly stood up and left Gryffindor Tower, making her way to the Room of Requirement. So what if she left early. Tom wouldn’t mind, right?

In the three weeks since Ginny’s first visit to the Room of Requirement, Hunter had found the diary void had changed further. Instead of a bunch of silvery-grey wisps flying around, Hunter now had three orbs of light. The largest one was yellow, the second largest was blue, and the smallest one, which was smaller than the palm of his hand, was a dull and translucent silver. After examining the first two orbs, Hunter discovered that the yellow one contained Tom Riddle’s memories while the blue orb contained all the spells and other facts Tom had learned in his life. Hunter stayed away from the smallest orb. Based on the first two orbs, the smallest one likely contained the sliver of Tom’s personality and sentience that kept the Horcrux stable. His decision to keep away from the smallest orb was reaffirmed when Hunter found that touching the blue orb let him absorb the knowledge within. 

Hunter's learning became exponentially faster as he chipped away at the blue orb, each time slightly decreasing its size. He tried to absorb it all at once, but that just caused Hunter to experience a sharp pain that somehow knocked him out. The next time he spoke to Ginny, he learned that he had been unresponsive for a whole day. The lecture she gave him that day was not fun, especially with the lousy excuse Hunter had given her. He couldn’t exactly tell her he’s not the real Tom, now, could he?

Since that day, Hunter gradually absorbed Tom’s knowledge at a steady, consistent pace. He mastered many more spells, even one of the unforgivable curses. One spell he couldn’t master, however, was the patronus charm. Sure, Voldemort, and now Hunter, knew the theoreticals, it’s just that Hunter couldn’t cast it in the void like he could the other spells. He tried to cast it for days until he gave up in frustration.

Hopefully I can cast it once I’m in the real world, Hunter thought.

Hunter was pulled from his inner monologue when the void suddenly rippled and shook him to his core, then it rippled twice more. This had never happened before. 

{Harry doesn’t like me!}

Ah, those were her tears rippling here, Hunter thought. Poor girl.

“Of course Harry likes you, Ginny! Nobody could hate such a kind, intelligent, and mature girl like you.”

{BUT HE WAS LONGING FOR HERMIONE!}

Her angry writing was so loud that it gave Hunter a brief headache.

Hunter kneeled over in pain and pushed his hands against his ears. 

Oh no! I can feel pain in here! 

The ear-piercing sound ended as soon as the last letter faded. Hunter took a moment to collect himself before responding to Ginny. “He was longing for her?”

Ginny proceeded to retell the events of this afternoon in detail. Hunter could only nod in sympathy as she kept writing, not that she could see his sympathetic nod.

Boys can be rather cruel, thought Hunter, reminiscing on his own past. My own brothers were such a handful. There’s no way Harry was longing for Hermione, but what else could he have wanted? To be one of the girls? Hunter quickly rid himself of the thought. Rowling wouldn’t have made any character in her universe trans, let alone the Boy-Who-Lived!

{Why do my brothers harass me and each other so much?}

“Alas, Ginny, boys are childish and immature.”

{No! That's not true! You’re very kind and mature!}

“I am but the exception to the norm. Every boy I knew at my age could be rather immature and wild at times.” 

Well, except for my best friend, thought Hunter. Then again, it turned out he was really a she.

Hunter frowned, feeling the sensation of tears on his face. If only I could see her again. Hunter's mind wandered back to that night, the night… Why can’t I remember her name!?! In fact, the more he thought about it, the more his mind came up blank. All he could remember about her, besides the fact she was his best friend, were her rich hazel eyes. He couldn’t even remember that night beyond the fact that something happened that involved her and that it was bad.

{Tom? Are you still there?}

Hunter blinked. Hmm… strange.  

“Sorry, Ginny, I was lost in thought for a second. Boys can be jerks, but I can assure you Harry does not like Hermione that way. In fact, he’s probably one of the few mature boys out there.”

{Just like you}

Hunter grimaced. “Yes, just like me.”

Hmmm… Since she thinks we're both alike, perhaps I could help Ginny with her Harry problem?

“Since he and I are a lot alike, the next time you see Harry, I want you to imagine you’re talking to me.”

{There’s no way I can talk to him. I get nervous when he’s in the same room as me.} 

“That’s why I want you to imagine he's me. You talk to me just fine, after all. In time, it should hopefully banish your nervousness entirely. Then your brothers won’t be able to tease you over it. You’ve been very brave to talk to me about this, and now I need you to be brave in the face of your own emotions.”

{Thank you}

“No problem, my friend. Now, let’s study for Potions class!”

Chapter Text

Hunter awoke with a big stretch and a yawn. Yesterday had been surprisingly draining. All he had done was tutor Ginny, though. So why was it that he fell asleep? At least he managed to fall asleep in a comfy bed.

Wait a minute, Hunter thought, a comfy bed? Something isn’t right here!

Hunter looked around. What he saw wasn’t his usual view. Hunter blinked, and what he saw did not change. He was not looking at the all-too-familiar voidscape in the diary, but rather at a rich red curtain wrapping around the bed in which he was laying.

He grabbed the curtains with his now thin and pale-skinned hands and opened them, revealing a stone circular room with a cast iron wood stove in the middle and four other beds. Next to each bed was a small desk and at the foot of each bed was a steamer trunk, though each trunk was of a unique design. Hunter looked around some more and saw that his bed had a full size mirror next to it. 

Hunter stood up and looked at his reflection and blushed. Staring back at him was a cute girl with a mane of fiery red hair, a light dusting of freckles, and bright brown eyes wearing a disheveled white buttoned shirt and a pair of purple panties. 

I look like Ginny! So that means… Oh Ginny! I hope you’re not panicking in the diary right now. Also she looks nothing like Bonnie Wright. I wonder if this is the books’ universe?

“Hello?” Hunter's hands flew to his mouth, his reflection doing the same.

This voice! So I was hearing Ginny’s voice in the diary. She has such a lovely voice. Hunter shook his head. I don’t have time for preening in front of a mirror.

Hunter went to the foot of Ginny’s bed and opened what appeared to be her trunk, finding a black school uniform that included a skirt. The school robes in the books were unisex while in the movies they were colored for each house, which meant that neither the books nor the movies were entirely accurate.

At least she wore the shirt to bed .

He quickly changed into the robes, being careful not to look down at Ginny’s body while doing so. After putting on the red and gold self-tying tie, Hunter checked in the mirror and it seemed alright? The uniform was obviously second hand but it still fit her wait not her… it fit Ginny…. Despite being second hand though it was still pretty likeable. Hunter did a quick spin, only to blush when the skirt started to spin upwards.

Note to self: skirts go spinny

“Quit gawking at yourself, Ginny!” Another girl entered the reflection. She was shorter than Ginny by half a head and had short and curly light brown hair.

“Sorry!” Hunter blurted. 

The girl rolled her eyes. “Just make sure you get to class on time. Or has class somehow become too good for the secluded secondhand scamp of Gryffindor?”

The girl left before Hunter could argue back with her.

Looks like Ginny’s not very popular and it’s because of me. Guess I’ll have to work with her on that whenever this possession ends. I just hope that I don’t have to see much of that girl today.

With that, Hunter smoothed out Ginny’s hair, grabbed her things, and departed for Ginny’s classes.

———————

Luck was not on Hunter's side, as he found himself sitting next to the rude girl from this morning. Added to the fact that Ginny’s sole class for the day was a double session of potions and that he missed breakfast, Hunter's day was shaping up to be a horrible one. At least he wasn’t late for class. He wasn’t early, either. When Hunter entered the dungeon chamber, he was treated to the sight of a tall, thin man with a crooked nose wearing flowing robes that were as black as his long and oily hair. That meant it could only be one man standing there.

“Place your homework on the stack on my desk, Miss Weasley,” said Professor Snape. 

Hunter followed Snape’s directions and placed Ginny’s homework on his desk. He then made his way to an empty workstation in the middle row. As soon as he sat down, however, Professor Snape strode towards him.

“Five points from Gryffindor for not sitting at your assigned station. Have you forgotten you sit over there?” Professor Snape pointed to the workstation where the rude girl who had interrupted him this morning was sitting.

“Thank you, Professor Snape,” said Hunter as he walked to Ginny’s assigned seat.

“The next time you forget your seat, you’ll be serving detention with me.” Professor Snape returned to the front of the classroom.

Once Colin Creevey dashed into the class and to his seat, Professor Snape closed the door and began to speak. “Good morning.” Professor Snape gestured to the stack of homework. “Thank you for turning in your homework. Those of you who did not will be penalized. Before you begin brewing today, though, it’s time for a brief pop quiz. Who can tell me why dittany is a versatile potion ingredient?”

Nobody besides the Slytherins, who were identified by their green ties, raised their hands. Everyone knew that Snape would never call on a non-Slytherin unless he wanted to humiliate them.

Professor Snape called on a darker-skinned Slytherin with short hair. “Dittany has strong healing properties that are enhanced in potions such as Wiggenweld Potion.”
“Five points to Slytherin, Mr. Harper,” said Professor Snape. “For those of you who haven’t discerned today’s potion from the homework, today you’ll be brewing the aforementioned Wiggenweld Potion. The instructions are on the board. They’re so simple that even a child could follow them.”

Hunter looked at the board and read the instructions:

• Fill cauldron halfway with water
• Add standard ingredient and stir 3 times clockwise
• Add 1 drop of salamander blood
• Heat until solution is red
• Add 1 wiggentree bark
• Mix in tube of honeywater
• Add 5 lionfish spines and stir 7 times counterclockwise
• Add 1 shredded dittany leaf
• Add 1 beaker of flobberworm mucus
• Add 1 moly flower
• Add 5 more lionfish spines
• Add 1 aconite petal soaked in salamander blood
• Stir 13 times clockwise and 13 times counter clockwise
• Simmer for 30 minutes
• Let cool to room temperature, then strain potion

The class got to work, students scrambling to get the ingredients they’d need for today. While everyone else rushed into the directions, Hunter chose to be more methodical in his preparations. He quickly came to be the last student with an empty cauldron and it did not take long for Professor Snape to notice that.

Professor Snape sneered at Hunter. “Miss Weasley, why did you pour your salamander’s blood into a bowl? You’re clearly not on that step yet. And what’s with the mortar and pestle?”

“The book recommended soaking the aconite petal in salamander blood before filling the cauldron with water to maximize the petal’s saturation. As for the mortar and pestle, the wiggentree bark needs to be refined into a powder for this potion. We’re not brewing wiggentree tea, after all. Only an idiot would do this step while the solution is being heated.”

Professor Snape scowled. “4 points from Gryffindor for disrespect towards a professor.” The greasy-haired professor then sighed. “And five points to Gryffindor for proper safety measures.”

Professor Snape turned around and walked away, his cape billowing behind him. 

“What the hell was that!?!” whispered the other first-year Gryffindor.

Hunter merely shrugged his shoulders and returned to his prepwork. “Are you going to ignore me, Weasley!?!” Her voice got increasingly louder. “Answer me!”

“Detention, Miss Northcott, tonight at 7 O’clock. Keep disrupting my class and you’ll be spending more of your nights scrubbing out cauldrons!”

Northcott grumbled and got back to work. Hunter smirked and finished grinding the wiggentree bark. He then finally filled his cauldron with water and started brewing the Wiggenweld Potion.

Hunter left potions class in a hurry. Snape was not happy that a Gryffindor had managed to brew the most potent potion and was out for blood. At least, that’s what Hunter thought. His potion was the most vibrant green of those around him and the more potent a potion was, the more vibrant its hue. That and the fact Snape begrudgingly gave his potion an O. 

“Wait up, Ginny!”

Hunter turned his head and saw a glasses-wearing girl with pale skin and straight, dirty-blonde hair racing to catch up with him. Given she had a red tie, she was one of Ginny’s other roommates. He looked at the approaching girl with apathy and stopped so she could catch up to him. 

The girl stopped next to him, panting heavily. “Can I help you?”

“I’m sorry for picking on you for studying,” said the girl. “I can’t believe you got an O in potions class! Snape never gives anyone outside of Slytherin an O. If studying as hard as you did ruins that stern snake’s day and gets Zenobia detention, then maybe I should study more.” 

Hunter stared at her, dumbfounded. “T-thank you, Miss…”

“Blume. Georgina Blume. I’m not surprised you forgot my name since you never talk to us.”

"Sorry, I just don't know how to interact with girls,” said Hunter. “Most of my life was spent around my six older brothers." 

"That sounds horrible,” exclaimed Georgina. “How could anyone survive being trapped with a bunch of boys?" 

Hunter nervously giggled. "Y-yeah, it sure is a struggle."

“Well your struggles are over!” exclaimed Georgina. “I’ll teach you all the stuff that those brothers of yours prevented you from learning. How about we start after lunch today. How about we go together?”

Hunter hesitated. “T-there’s no need for you to teach me. I can ge-”

“Oh come on! It’ll be a great way for us girls to bond.”

“I’m in the middle of a book I really want to finish today. Perhaps we could meet up for dinner?” 

“Yay! It’ll be nice to have someone to paint my nails with again.”

“Let’s meet in front of the Fat Lady at 7,” said Hunter.

“Sounds great,” said Georgina as she started to walk away. “See you then, Ginny!” 

Hunter waved Georgina goodbye, then made her way to the second floor. However, on his way there, Hunter ran into Mr. Filch and his cat, Mrs. Norris, the latter of whom kept hissing at him. He paid them no mind, but made sure to walk fast enough to get away from the bitter squib and his pet.

Chapter Text

Hunter had long anticipated the day he could visit the Chamber of Secrets, absorbing as much of Voldemort’s knowledge as possible to prepare. While it included information on how to access the Chamber and open Slytherin’s statue’s mouth, facts which he already knew from his past life, Hunter had yet to find knowledge about what Rowling’s works didn’t show. The mystery of what else he could find in the Chamber of Secrets both excited and frightened him.

Before going in, Hunter scanned the area to make sure nobody would discover him. After facing some resistance from Ginny’s wand, he was able to cast the Revelio charm, which showed that nobody was nearby. So, Hunter cast a notice-me-not charm on the bathroom door then entered the abandoned bathroom. He checked each dusty stall and sighed in relief when he found no sign of Moaning Myrtle, then walked towards the column of sinks at the center of the room. He briskly examined each sink’s faucet tap until he found the one that was engraved with a snake.

Bingo , Hunter thought. Here goes nothing.

Hunter stood in front of the sink with the snake faucet and focused on speaking Parseltongue. It was a struggle to turn his hissing into speech, but he eventually uttered the phrase: §§Open§§

The eight sinks pushed themselves away from each other, pushing Hunter slightly back. Then, the snake-engraved sink sank below the grates originally surrounding the sinks, revealing a pitch black hole that slightly reeked of mildew.

Hunter slightly gagged. Note to self: use the scouring charm to clean the chamber. 

He prepared to jump onto the slide, but had an idea to try something first.

§§Stairs§§ Hunter hissed, causing the slide to turn into a spiral staircase.

Hunter smiled and descended the dimly-lit stairs. A third of the way down, the light was extinguished by the sinks closing up, so with a flick of Ginny’s wand, he cast a simple Lumos charm. 

The stairs spit Hunter out in a small, average-looking cave. Stalagmites and stalactites pierced through the floor and ceiling. Yet something about them was off, as if the whole cave was but a manufactured facade rather than the product of millions of years of erosion. At the end of the cave was a smooth wall whose bright color contrasted with the darker stone of its surroundings. In its center were two snakes going in opposite directions, each one adorned with emeralds in place of its eyes. One thing was missing from the cave, however. While it looked nice, the cave was entirely empty except for a thin layer of dust and patches of dead mildew.

Where’s the basilisk skin and mice skeletons? Hunter examined the floor and only saw the rough surface of the cave’s floor. Hunter merely shrugged and continued onwards after quickly casting the scouring charm.

Hunter approached the wall and commanded it to open with Parseltongue. The snakes slithered away, splitting the wall in two and sliding each half back with them, revealing the famous Chamber of Secrets.

Rows of pillars adorned with snakes slithering up them guided Hunter through the chamber, each one lit up by a hidden artificial light as he passed them. Said pillars gave way to a circular atrium with an artificial light shining through the center of the roof and a few ornate doors on the otherwise bare walls. And at the very back was a 21-foot-tall statue of a stern looking man. It was ancient and sharp with a long, thin beard that fell almost to the bottom of the wizard's sweeping stone robes, where two enormous grey feet stood on the smooth Chamber floor.

Yeah, I’m definitely in some amalgam of the books and movies. Hopefully there’s something useful behind the statue.

§§Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four§§

The statue’s mouth opened. Hunter immediately stepped back and tightly closed his eyes. Yet, there was no hissing or slithering echoing from the statue’s mouth. 

Is the basilisk asleep? Hunter's eyes widened. Or is it not here? I should try to awaken it if it’s in there.

§§Awaken.§§

Hunter felt the chamber rumble and from inside the mouth of the statue a hiss and a slithering sound echoed out. The slithering got louder and louder and then it stopped for a brief moment. Then the slithering resumed, this time accompanied by the sound of something peeling and falling to the floor. Hunter felt the air around him be displaced as the basilisk coiled around him.

§§Who are you?§§ hissed the basilisk. §§You do not smell like Master’s offspring, nor would one of them try to awaken me after already summoning me!§§

§§I am his latest heir,§§ replied Hunter. §§How else could I speak to you?§§

§§Prove it! A true heir shall be immune to my deadly gaze.§§

Hunter gulped. Shit! This wasn’t covered in Voldemort’s knowledge! 

§§What if I’m in someone else’s body?§§

The basilisk tightened its coil until its body was loosely wrapped around Hunter. §§Your soul shall protect you. Now, open your eyes or be eaten!§§

Hunter hesitantly opened his eyes, his frantic breaths shallower than a puddle. His immediate view was dominated by a sea of fresh dark green scales illuminated from above. Hunter's hands trembled as he studied each scale in sight in a futile attempt at delaying the inevitable.

The basilisk tightened its grip on Hunter. §§LOOK UP!§§

Hunter took a deep breath and slowly turned his gaze upwards. At the top of the coil that constricted him was the horned head of the basilisk, its large eyes piercing into his very soul. 

Hunter looked down, then back up, then back down and back up once again. He giggled loudly and felt a slight tingle from how his laugh sounded coming out of Ginny’s mouth.

§§What’s so funny?§§ the basilisk hissed as it released Hunter.

§§I’m happy! I just risked death and came out alive.§§

The basilisk slithered behind Hunter and bowed its head, revealing its shed skin at the statue’s feet. Hunter made a mental note to come back for it at a later date.

§§How were you asleep for so long?§§

§§Master cast a spell that let him and his heirs put me in stasis when not needed. I only awaken on command of an heir, or if said heir or the school is in trouble.§§

§§Why did you kill that girl 50 years ago?§§

§§She a threat to the previous heir.§§

Definitely should put the basilisk back to sleep now.

§§How do I return you to stasis?§§

The basilisk just stared at Hunter, as if trying to give a deadpan expression.

“Fine, I’ll do it myself,” said Hunter. §§Sleep.§§

Nothing happened.

§§Sleep, basilisk.§§

The basilisk continued to stare at Hunter.

Hunter groaned. I wish I had absorbed Tom’s knowledge on the basilisk. Think like a Slytherin. What command would they use? Eureka! Something pompous and ego-boosting!

Hunter tried one more command: §§Rest, Great Slytherin’s Protector.§§

The basilisk went stiff, then was quickly sucked back into the mouth of Slytherin’s statue, which closed once the basilisk’s head was no longer visible to Hunter.

Now to see what else Salazar left here.

Hunter had two doors to choose from - one on each side of the atrium. One game of “eeney-meeney-miney-mo” later, he stood in front of the door on the right. 

Hunter pointed Ginny’s wand at the door and called out “Revelio!” 

The spell revealed no traps on or around the door, so Hunter pulled on the door’s handle, only to find it locked.

Hunter rolled his eyes, irritated with himself at this brief lapse of intelligence.

Hunter tapped the door with his wand and switched to Parseltongue. §§Open.§§

Still the door remained locked.

§§Alohomora.§§

The door clicked and became slightly ajar. Hunter smiled and went inside.

The light sources in the room lit up as Hunter entered, revealing it to be a sitting room of sorts. The center of the room was dominated by a plain dining table that could seat 4 beneath a magically-lit chandelier while a tapestry featuring a man who looked like Salazar Slytherin shielding snakes from a fire hung on the back wall above a green sofa. Each side wall also had a door in the center, while the left side wall was lined with shelves filled with empty bottles, flasks, and bowls. Hunter first went to the table and tried to pick up the table cloth, only for it to not budge. 

Probably a sticking charm, Hunter thought.

Hunter then checked the other rooms. The room on the right contained a trunk and a 4-post bed. Upon further inspection, Hunter discovered the chest was unenchanted and empty. The right room was much the same, except slightly smaller in size. The room on the left, meanwhile, contained an empty bath engraved with runes and what Hunter could only describe as a ‘magic toilet,’. He wouldn’t be using it anytime soon. The tub, on the other hand…

Hunter internally cringed. Yeah… I’m not taking a bath while I’m in this body. Ginny would never forgive me. I’d never forgive me if I were her, so why would she?

Hunter left the living chambers and entered the door on the opposite side of the atrium after unlocking it. He hoped it was a library of some sort. It was indeed a library he found. His initial survey put a smile on his face; it appeared that the room was indeed a study or library of Salazar Slytherin. However, upon further inspection, the smile fell from his face. Sure there were shelves along the walls and some statuettes on top, but the shelves were empty. If it wasn’t for the desk in the middle of the room having a stack of three books, a few rolled up scrolls strewn about, and a single piece of parchment, the room could have easily been mistaken as an abandoned wine cellar or dining room. 

He frantically searched the shelves in hopes of finding something, anything of note. Alas, all he could find were a few heavily damaged and faded scrolls. Defeated, he sat at the desk and examined the few documents left. Examining them led to more disappointment. All but one of the documents were written in either Latin, Old English, Welsh, or what looked like Hebrew. The sole thing written in modern English was the parchment that contained handwriting Hunter swore he had seen somewhere else, which read:

Your efforts were for naught. I, the last rightful Heir of Slytherin, have destroyed all the knowledge that could be used against me. 

Hunter crumpled the note and tossed it aside. 

You've got to be kidding me. Did I seriously just risk my life for a dead end and a mocking note?

He wanted to scream, but instead took a deep breath to clear his head. All he needed was some translation spell or rune and he’d have access to the knowledge hidden in the books and scrolls. There had to be something useful to his goal there, right?

That was a question for another time, though. There wasn’t anything else here and Hunter had obligations in the evening. 

Next time, Hunter vowed, I will unlock the last secrets of Salazar Slytherin!

On his way out, Hunter caught sight of a line illuminated by a dim white light, but paid it no attention. If he had, then perhaps he wouldn’t have left the Chamber of Secrets so soon…

Chapter Text

Ginny woke up feeling terrible. Her head was throbbing, her body ached, and a heavy fog was cast over her brain. She rubbed her eyes, but it did little to help vanquish her grogginess, let alone the headache and body ache.

I must’ve overdone it on the studying and training, Ginny thought. Hopefully I have enough time for Madam Pomfrey to give me a pepper up potion.

Ginny cast a tempus charm. Noticing the time, she rummaged around to get her things together, not caring how loud it was.

“What are you doing, Weasley?” said Zenobia Northcott, opening the curtain around her bed. “You disturbed my beauty sleep!”

“Sleep? We’re gonna be late for class and Snape will kill us! Come On!”

Ginny rushed to her trunk while Zenobia looked at her confused.

“You do realize it’s Saturday, right?”

Ginny’s eyes widened. “Saturday?”

“Yes, Saturday,” Zenobia deadpanned. “The day after Friday, remember? Or did that muggle-born pauper manage to scramble your brains last night?”

Ginny didn’t respond, instead giving Zenobia a confused look.

Said girl raised her arms and let out a frustrated groan as she walked to the bathroom. “I don’t have time for your silly shenanigans. I’m going to shower and when I get out it would behoove you to not be here.”

Zenobia walked into the bathroom and slammed the door shut. 

What’s her problem? Ginny thought. And why does she think it’s Saturday?

Ginny hurriedly got dressed then grabbed her school supplies. However, before she left, Ginny pulled the diary from the drawer in her desk and noticed something off about it - a folded up piece of parchment stuck out from the top middle of the book. Grabbing the parchment, she folded it and found a letter which read:

Ginny,

I woke up in your body on Friday the 25th (which hopefully was yesterday). I don’t know how this happened. I went to potions class and managed to not piss off Snape or make anyone suspect I wasn’t you. I also took the liberty of completing your homework for the weekend. Just a heads up - Georgina Blume strong-armed me into a girls’ night where she painted your nails, so don’t be alarmed if she acts super friendly towards you. Enjoy your free weekend and I’ll hear from you soon. 

- TMR

Guess that explains why my nails are pink, Ginny thought as she examined her fingers. Anyways, I should get some breakfast before the Great Hall closes.

Ginny put away the diary and went downstairs. As she descended the stairs, Ginny had a moment to ponder. Tom had crossed a line. Sure, her parents would have given her an enchanted diary to help her with class, but they’d never let something capable of possessing someone anywhere near their house, let alone in the hands of their only daughter. 

I hardly know anything about Tom Riddle. Maybe I should tell my parents about the diary. But if I tell them now though… Ginny cringed at the thought of being on the receiving end of one of her mom’s infamous howlers, nearly tripping down the stairs. It was only by a stroke of pure luck that her hand happened to be right on the railing when she slipped. On the other hand, Tom had been so kind and helpful. He’s helped me get ahead in school and hasn’t led me to do something stupid yet. Plus, his letter seemed genuine.

When Ginny got to the bottom of the stairs, she found her roommate, Georgina Blume, waiting for her.

“Good morning, Ginny!” said the fellow first-year. “Oh no! You don’t look so good!” Georgina fished a potion out of her bag. “Here, have a pepper-up potion! It should help you regain your strength!”

Ginny took the potion from Georgina and drank it, instantly feeling less unwell. I can think about Tom later.

“Thank you,” replied Ginny. “Wanna grab breakfast together?”

Georgina’s smile widened. “Sure!”

Breakfast was delicious. They served the fluffiest pancakes and chewiest bacon. It was so good that it almost made up for the awkwardness from Georgina talking about the evening she couldn’t remember. Ginny had intended to spend her day training in the room of requirement followed by interrogating Tom, but before she could leave the Great Hall, her brother, Ron, and his friend Hermione zeroed in on her. Before she knew it, the two second-years and Georgina had all but dragged her to watch quidditch practice.

On their way there, the trio ran into the Gryffindor quidditch team. She gave a friendly wave to Fred and George, plus the team captain Oliver Wood, but other than that stayed in the back. Along the way, Colin Creevey managed to intercept the team and join their impromptu procession.

Ginny was too anxious to pay the conversations around her any mind. She had just wanted a relaxing Saturday and now she was merely feet away from her crush, Harry Potter. 

One wrong move and he’ll think I’m a weirdo and hate me and then he’ll never wanna date me and we’llneverlivehappilyeverafterashusbandandwifeandI’lldiealonebecausenobodywantstobewiththegirlHarryPotterrejecte-

Ginny was broken out of her spiral by a tap on the shoulder. “Hey, Ginny,” said Harry. “I’m glad you could make it.”

Ginny let out a squeak, then quickly switched to taking deep breaths. Pretend I’m talking to Tom, Ginny told herself. I’m not talking to Harry, my hero and crush, I’m talking with a friend.

Before her very eyes, her mind replaced the image of Harry with what she imagined Tom to be - a tall, handsome, mature man with an aura of familiarity.

“Thanks, To- Harry” replied Ginny. “Ron invited me. Maybe next year I’ll be joining you out there.” She nervously giggled.

“If your brothers are anything to go by, I bet you’ll be great,” said Harry.

“I’m personally looking forward to having another Weasley on the team,” said Wood. “Just be ready to give it your all.”

“It’ll be nice to have another girl on the team,” said Alicia Spinnet. She then sped up to the front and caught up with Wood. “So, what’s the game plan this year?”

“I spent the summer devising a whole new quidditch program,” said Wood. “We are going to train earlier, harder, and longer. I hope you’re…” Wood groaned as the group approached the practice pitch. “I don’t believe it!”

Ginny quickly saw what the commotion was about; coming onto the pitch from the other entrance was Slytherin’s quidditch team. 

This can’t be good, Ginny thought.

“What do you think you’re doing, Flint?” asked Wood as he approached his Slytherin counterpart.

“Quidditch practice,” said Flint.

Wood stopped right in front of Flint. “I booked the pitch for Gryffindor today.”

“Easy, Wood, I’ve got a note.” 

The Slytherin team captain handed Wood a note, which he read aloud as the Slytherins backed off. “I, Professor Severus Snape, do hereby give the Slytherin team permission to practice today, owing to the need to train their new seeker.” Wood looked at Flint. “You got a new seeker? Who?”

Flint motioned for someone at the back of the Slytherin team to come forward, revealing Slytherin’s new seeker to be a certain blonde-haired spoiled brat.

“Malfoy?” said Harry with a look of annoyance on his face.

“That’s right,” replied Draco. “And that’s not all that’s new this year.”

At that moment Ginny noticed that the entire Slytherin team all had new brooms with glossy black handles.

“Those are Nimbus 2001s!” exclaimed Ron. “How’d you get those?”

“They were a gift from Draco’s father,” answered Flint.

“You see, Weasley,” said Draco, “unlike some, my father can afford the best.”

“At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in,” remarked Hermione, looking smug. “They got in on pure talent.”

Draco closed in on Hermione, a scowl on his face. “No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood.”

“You’ll pay for that one, Malfoy!” Ron said as he drew his wand. “Slugulus Eructo!”

Said slytherin was hit by a sickly green light originating from Ron’s wand, pushing him back and causing him to fall to the ground and throw up slugs. The Gryffindors, including Ginny, laughed at Draco’s misfortune while the Slytherin team stood there, dumbfounded. Colin took advantage of their inaction and snapped a humiliating photo of Draco throwing up another slug, slime dripping from the corners of his mouth.

Flint pointed his wand at Colin: “Give me that camera or else! Slytherin shall not be humiliated!

Before the Slytherin could harm Colin, Harry grabbed and lead him away. Flint started to go after the first-year, but Harry stood in his way.

“Get out of the way, Potter,” commanded Flint.

Harry stood his ground and shoved Flint away. “Leave him alone!”

“With pleasure.” Flint turned his wand towards Hermione. 

Harry ran right at Flint and tackled him to the ground. Flint’s larger size, however, allowed him to throw the younger boy off and get back up.

“Now you’ve done it, Potter!” Flint picked up his wand and aimed it at Harry.

Time slowed to a crawl for Ginny. She couldn’t allow him to suffer for her brother’s actions. She drew her wand and aimed it at Flint before he could start the incantation of his own spell.

“Furnunculus!” Ginny cast a spell right at Flint.

Her spell hit Flint, causing him to scream in agony, his hands grabbing his face. All across his body, large, puss-filled zits and boils erupted from his skin, turning it redder than a tomato.

“Marcus!” called out a female Slytherin. She went to help Flint, but another Slytherin was already leading him away.

The female Slytherin turned her angry gaze at Ginny and charged towards her. Only feet away from Ginny, said Slytherin was stopped in her tracks, held back by Alicia and her fellow chaser, Angelina Johnson.

“Harry, Granger, get Ron and the first-years out of here!” called out Wood.

The two second-years obliged and Ginny was hurried away from the pitch as chaos descended on it.

Chapter Text

Word travelled fast at Hogwarts. Not even 10 minutes after fleeing the quidditch pitch, the five students had been found and corralled by Professor McGonagall into her office. Once they’d all given their statements, she asked Hermione, Colin, and Georgina to leave her office, leaving the two redheads and the youngest seeker in a century to their fate.

McGonagall at her desk with a stern expression. “I’m not surprised t0 see you here, Messrs. Potter and Weasley, but I am very surprised to see you here, Miss Weasley. What were you thinking, attacking a sixth-year student? And here I was thinking you’d be more like Percy. As this is your first offense, I will be informing your parents.”

Ginny went pale. She knew how that would likely end - with her on the receiving end of one of Mum’s infamous howlers that Fred and George received on a non regular basis.

I’m doomed, Ginny thought, imagining a howler landing right in front of her at breakfast. Why am I being punished? All I did was save Harry from being attacked.

“Of course, you’ll all be receiving detentions for this morning’s actions,” said Professor McGonagall.

“That’s not fair!” exclaimed Ron. “Ginny stopped that snake Flint from harming Harry. If she hadn’t cast that spell, who knows what he could’ve done to him?”

“Be that as it may, Mr. Weasley,” said Professor McGonagall, “Miss Weasley and Mr. Potter still broke school rules and must suffer the consequences for their actions.”

Ginny was incensed. “Then why aren’t Flint and Malfoy being punished? Flint tried to harm not one, not two, but three students younger than him while Malfoy called Hermione a Mudblood!”

McGonagall sighed. “They will be punished by their head of house.”

Ron huffed. “So not at all, then. We all know Snape won’t give them anything beyond a slap on the wrist.”

Ron continued ranting about the evils of Slytherin. Ginny paid it no attention. Instead, her mind turned to a lesson Hunter taught her last week.

{Never trust teachers who let bullying go unpunished. They’re no better than the bullies themselves.}

Ginny couldn’t wrap her head around the concept then, but now the words rang true. She defended against a bully and she was being punished while the bully would get away with it.

“Enough about Malfoy and Flint!” said Professor McGonagall, “You, Potter, and your sister will still be serving detention and doing so tonight at 8PM.” McGonagall frowned. “Nothing will change that, not even your tears, Miss Weasley.”

Ginny ran her hands up her cheeks and sure enough they were wet with tears. She wiped them off her face.

“What're we doing, Professor?” asked Ron.

“You will be polishing the silver in the trophy room with Mr. Filch,” said Professor McGonagall. “And no magic, either; just old-fashioned elbow grease.” She then turned her gaze to Harry. “And you, Potter, will be helping Professor Lockhart answer his fan mail.”

“Oh no - Professor, can't I go and do the trophy room, too?” said Harry desperately.

“Certainly not,” said Professor McGonagall, raising her eyebrows. “Professor Lockhart requested you particularly.”

Harry sighed, resigned to his fate. McGonagall then turned her attention towards Ginny.

“As for you, Miss Weasley, you’ll be serving your detention here with me.”

Ginny nodded and tuned out the rest of the meeting. She barely even noticed that Ron had led her out of McGonagall’s office, and then walked back to Gryffindor with Georgina, only coming to once she had been sat on her bed.

“There, there,” said Georgina, patting Ginny on the back, “It’ll be alright; it’s only detention.”

“It’s my mum I’m worried about,” said Ginny. “I was supposed to be her good girl, not another troublemaker like Ron and the twins. Now she’s gonna be mad at me and hate me.”

“Your mum will never hate you,” Georgina reassured. “And if she belittles you for doing the right thing, I’ll be right by your side.”

As will I, Ginny imagined Tom saying, causing her to smile.

Ginny sullenly trekked to McGonagall’s office. While Georgina had helped brighten her mood, the looming detention still made Ginny anxious and full of dread. Ron had told her of the time he and Harry had served detention with Professor McGonagall. She sent them to the Forbidden Forest while there was a creature killing unicorns on the loose. 

If Ron was sent to the Forbidden Forest for breaking curfew, then what can I expect to get from McGonagall for attacking a student?

She was sent into a spiral of increasingly horrible scenarios that could await her. While Ginny’s mind was sent into spiral mode, she continued her way towards Professor McGonagall’s office. Each step brought her closer to her fate and made the spiral worsen. By the time she had reached her destination, Ginny was trembling in fear and was barely able to move.

Resigned to a horrible fate, Ginny reached for the door to knock, only for Professor McGonagall to open it and look at Ginny with a stern expression.

“Ah, right on time! Please, come in, Miss Weasley.” McGonagall walked away from the door and motioned for Ginny to follow her.

Ginny did so and shut the door behind her. McGonagall’s office was small and utilitarian, yet also slightly homey. The stone walls were mostly bare and the only desk, which had only one chair, was pushed right up to the wall right under the room’s sole window. However, her office also had a fireplace with two comfy-looking red chairs placed in front of it. Ginny was confused as to where she’d sit, if at all, until McGonagall sat in one of the two chairs by the fireplace and beckoned Ginny to sit in the other one.

After she sat across from her, Professor McGonagall must have noticed Ginny’s terrified face, as her own face went from stern to a reassuring smile after looking at her in the eyes.

“Don’t worry, Miss Weasley,” Professor McGonagall explained, “I shall not be subjecting you to a harsh punishment, as much as Professor Snape would prefer.”

Ginny felt the burden of anxiety lift from her, leaving her feeling lighter and less nervous.

“However, we will be discussing your actions today,” McGonagall continued. “You should have gotten an adult to deal with Mr. Flint instead of getting involved.” 

“He was aiming his wand right at Harry,” Ginny explained. “There wasn’t an adult nearby and someone needed to stop him. So I did so in a way that ensured Flint wouldn’t try to cast again.”

“How did you do it?”

“Um… I drew my wand and cast first?”

“No, I’m asking how did you know that spell? That spell is only taught to third-years.”

Ginny froze. She had no decent answer. After all, she couldn’t say she learned it from a haunted sentient diary!

“Well, Miss Weasley?” 

I need to think of a lie fast! Ginny thought. Wait… I heard the pimple cure from someone besides Tom, but where? That’s it! I heard it in potions class!

“I learned it from a book,” Ginny said confidently. “Professor Snape had us brew the cure for it on our first day so I was curious about what it countered.”

Professor McGonnagall stared intensely at Ginny, as if studying the first-year. Ginny just sat perfectly still, making sure not to move a single muscle.

McGonagall smiled. “Five points for preparedness. Now, I want you to sit at my desk and write a six inch essay on why the Furnunculus Curse should not be used to attack students.”

Ginny got up and went to Professor McGonagall’s desk, where there was a sheet of parchment and a quill laid out for her.

Chapter Text

Returning from his possession of Ginny had not been a fun experience. After falling asleep in Ginny’s bed, Hunter woke up in the void inside Voldemort’s diary with a splitting headache. That was bad enough on its own, but things were worse.  It was such an awful headache that Hunter was left unable to think anything except for the most basic of thoughts. If that wasn’t bad enough, the void didn’t respond to Hunter’s commands, either. All he could do was exist there and watch as the three orbs circled each other in front of him. The worst part, though, was when the silver orb got close to him. It always had a sinister aura, but sometimes it would do more than that. Sometimes, Hunter swore he heard whispers coming from it.

Most of the time, they were just random hisses, but once or twice Hunter heard more ominous and complete phrases such as “kill them” and “destroy the boy.” Needless to say, the first thing Hunter did once he regained control was to banish the silver orb to the furthest point in the void.

It still took awhile for him to get back to normal once control was reestablished. For one, his arms flickered between the familiar featureless white and Ginny’s arms and that continued after the headache was entirely gone. Even his voice flickered between his own and hers for a bit.

It was only after his form had settled that Hunter felt comfortable enough to continue absorbing teen Voldemort’s knowledge. This time, though, he ran into the dark knowledge of the dark lord. It was only a fraction of the sinister spells that Voldemort possessed by the events of the books and films, but it was still pretty dark. For one, Hunter now knew the Cruciatus Curse and the Imperius Curse. He wasn’t going to use those anytime soon, if at all. There’s a reason they’re two of the three Unforgivable Curses, after all!

Once the headaches started returning, Hunter shifted his focus to sifting through Tom’s memories. Doing so only left him with more questions. Voldemort’s memories showed he made it to the Chamber of Secrets, but he, too, was met with the pesky note Hunter found on the table.

After that mystery began to eat at him, Hunter’s attention was drawn to Ginny, or rather the recent lack thereof.

Did she get rid of the diary after she read my note? Hunter thought. I hope not.

At first, Hunter was glad Ginny hadn’t tried to talk to him after he woke up, but after what felt like ages, Hunter wished she would contact him again. He thought he was used to long periods of no contact, but it appeared that the past month had changed that. Hunter craved human contact to the point that not even practicing his new spells could relieve the emptiness and boredom his isolation made him feel.

Then, what felt like weeks after his possession of her, Ginny finally opened the diary.

{Hello Tom}

Ginny’s message, however, was spoken with a cold tone, perplexing Hunter. He shrugged and instead focused on her finally talking to him.

“Hello, Ginny,” Hunter replied. “Could you please tell me today’s date?”

{28th September, 1992}

It’s only been three days? Hunter thought. It felt way longer than that.

“Did you read my note?” 

{Yes} replied Ginny with that same cold tone.

Hunter gulped. “Is everything alright? You seem upset.”

{You possessed me! How could you do that to me?}

“I swear it was an accident!” Hunter replied. “I explained it in the letter.”

{How can I believe your words? Dark magic can’t be trusted.}

Hunter’s mood sank like a rock. I thought the letter was enough. I guess it’s time for Plan B, then.

“If you don’t believe my words, perhaps seeing my memories would help.”

{How would I do that?}

{How would I do that?}

Tom quickly replied.

{Put your face on the open diary and you’ll see the truth.}

What am I doing? Ginny thought. If he did it out of malice I’d be playing right into his hands!

After serving detention on Saturday, Ginny had spent the remainder of the weekend mulling over Tom’s actions. It was clear, now, that whatever spell had enchanted the diary was a dark one that was either cast by or on the real Tom Riddle. Dark magic, according to her Mum, Dad, and everyone else in her life was a slippery slope practiced by only the most wicked of people. Only dark magic could forcibly possess someone. Dark magic wasn’t to be trusted. However, Tom had been nothing but kind to her in the month she’d known him, plus her mum was rather cross with her for getting detention even though she did the right thing. So, Ginny decided to confront him before turning it in to her professors.

Following his instructions was risky, but her relationship with Tom and her own curiosity swayed her more. With great hesitance, Ginny stuck her head into the open diary. She was met with a white light erupting from the spine of the diary that engulfed her vision and overwhelmed her sense of touch. When the light receded, Ginny found herself no longer in the Room of Requirement. She was now in a silvery fog that clung to her being with an oppressive weight and coldness. She stepped forwards, backwards, left, and right, but the mist stayed the same, as if she never moved.

“Hello?” Ginny called out. “Tom? Is anyone there?”

The mist around Ginny moved and coalesced into a large white rectangle. An image shimmered on the rectangle. It was a girl getting out of bed and panicking. Upon further examination, Ginny realized the girl she was watching was herself. She continued to watch, seeing herself go to class, getting positive house points from Snape, as well as getting an O from Snape, seeing Georgina Blume run after her, then seeing Georgina paint her nails with a look of apprehension mixed with wonder on her face.

But I don’t remember doing any of this! Ginny thought.

“So you see, I did nothing malicious yesterday,” said a charming sounding voice.

Ginny turned around and saw a figure shrouded in white light approaching her. 

“Tom?” Ginny asked.

“Yes, Ginny,” the figure answered, “it’s me.”

The figure drew closer to Ginny until it was only a few feet away from her. “What you just saw were the highlights of my day filling in for you.”

Giny frowned. “You still crossed a line!”

“It’s not like I decided to possess you. In fact, I have no idea how the diary made it happen.”

“That reminds me,” said Ginny, “how did I really end up with the diary?”

“I have no idea,” Tom said. “Maybe Flourish and Blotts actually sold the diary as a study guide? Maybe your mother accidentally grabbed it and mistook it for another book? I don’t know. What I do know is that I hadn’t interacted with the outside world until you opened the diary.”

“I still don’t know what to believe,” said Ginny. 

Tom exhaled. “I’ve given you a note and shown you my memories. What else do you want? An unbreakable vow?”

“Yes,” Ginny deadpanned. 

“Fine.” Tom raised his left hand. “I swear that the events shown by me to Ginevra Molly Weasley are entirely truthful lest this diary be destroyed and my soul cast into oblivion. So mote it be.”

The mist and Tom remained stable. “Is that proof enough?”

Ginny smiled. I knew it! He’d never intentionally hurt me!

“Yes. I’m sorry I doubted you and I’m glad you were telling the truth.”

“It’s alright, Ginny.” Tom sighed. “I just wish I could remember how I possessed you.”

Tom’s words triggered a memory in Ginny’s head that raced to the front of her mind.

Ginny was exhausted and frustrated. She and Tom had been at her potions homework for hours and only barely managed to finish her homework for tomorrow. Tom had tried to help, but his lessons just weren’t sinking in for Ginny. It even led to an argument that ended with Ginny throwing the diary across the room, where it remained even 15 minutes later. Ginny just didn’t want to deal with it at the moment.

She groaned. Potions is so hard! I wish there was a way for Tom to deal with Snape for me tomorrow.

Ginny then felt like she was being sucked into a vacuum from behind. It was so fast that she had no time to react.

“Did you make a wish about switching places with me on Thursday?”

“Y-eah,” Tom said sheepishly. “After you complained about Snape all night and weren’t making progress, I got mad. I was jealous of you having the option to attend class and wished I could take your place for a day. I was only joking, though! I didn’t mean to actually take over your body. It was really nice, though. Having a body again and all. I never realized how much I missed it all until Friday.”

Poor Tom , Ginny thought. All alone here for so long. It’s not fair that he’s had to suffer for so long.

She tried to hug Tom, only for her arms to go right through his body.

“Looks like we can’t touch in here. Good to know. Thanks for the gesture, though!”

Ginny stepped back. “So, when did you make that wish?”

Tom put his hand on his chin. “I think it was after the last time you wrote in the diary.”

“It must’ve been when I was wishing for something similar!”

“So that means…” Tom began.

“You can take some of my classes for me!” Ginny exclaimed. 

Tom waved his hands in front of him. “I can’t do that! If I do all your classes for you, how will you learn anything?”

“But you shouldn’t be trapped in here all the time!”

“Your schoolwork is more important than my happiness. Besides, I have a compromise in mind.” Tom paused, presumably for dramatic effect. “I have the knowledge base to look for ways out of here. You have a body I could use. So, how about once or twice a week you lend me your body so I can track down a way to free myself?”

“And sometimes you’ll help me deal with Snape?”

“If we have time. I don’t want to risk hurting you by possessing you for too long.”

“Deal. Now, how do I get out of here?”

Chapter Text

It was mid October the next time Hunter was given control of Ginny’s body. After his first possession nearly lost him Ginny’s trust, Hunter worked with her to create a schedule for future outings. Every Saturday, he would get four hours to experience the real world. At first, Ginny had reservations about being possessed again, but said worries were soothed once Hunter was able to end his possession sessions at will. They had planned to start on the first weekend of October, but Ginny had several major assignments due the following week that took priority.

For his first outing, Hunter had one goal in mind - find a translation spell. Without that, he couldn’t decipher the secrets of Slytherin’s Chamber, so finding one was a necessity. Of course, Hunter quickly hit a wall in his task. Voldemort’s knowledge had nothing on translation spells and Hunter couldn’t go around asking people about it - that would raise suspicions. So, he was left with only one option - the Hogwarts library. 

Hunter found a bunch of books on auditory and illusionary magic and made himself at home at a desk in the corner of the library.  Ninety minutes in, however, he had become extremely frustrated. None of the books he had read mentioned anything about a translation spell.

Hunter held in a scream and slammed his fist on the open book.

Where is it!?! Hunter internally screamed. I can’t afford to spend more than a single night looking for that spell.

Hunter was broken out of his inner monologue by a tap on the shoulder. “Hey, Ginny.”

Hunter was startled, slamming the book he was reading closed and turning around to face the intruder. He was met with a mane of bushy brown hair, meaning the intruder was none other than Hermione Granger.

“What do you want, Hermione?” Hunter asked, irritated by the interruption.

“Jeez, I just wanted to say hello,” replied Hermione. “No need for rudeness.”

“Apologies for that. I’ve just been doing some research and have found nothing. Not even a reference.”

“What are you looking for?”

Hunter paused, debating whether or not to tell Hermione. Sure, she was incredibly intelligent, but she also ran her mouth off if something was wrong, and the Chamber of Secrets definitely fit that category. But Hunter didn’t want to have to come back next weekend. So, he decided to let Hermione partially know.

“I’m looking for a spell to help me translate some Latin for me,” Hunter said.

“Sorry to disappoint you, but you won’t find any translation spells in the entire library.”

“Why’s that?” Hunter asked. “Does translation magic not exist?”

“Translation magic does exist, it’s just not a spell. Rather, translations work based on runes.”

Hunter’s eyes lit up. “So I’ll find what I need in runes textbooks?”

“Yup,” said Hermione. “I remember seeing a reference to translation runes in one of the introductory textbooks for the class.”

“Isn’t that only offered to third-years and up?”

Hermione nodded.

“So, why are you looking at runes books so soon?”

“It doesn’t hurt to see what each elective has to offer before I have to sign up for next year’s classes.”

Hunter smiled. Typical Hermione .

“Thanks for the help. I’m going to grab a rune book. Any suggestions?”

“Yes, look for a book called Ancient Runes Made Easy . It’s in the reference section.”

Hunter grabbed his books and left, happy from this fortunate encounter. 

An hour passed, and Hunter’s good fortune had not lasted. He had indeed found the book Hermione told him about and the book did mention translation runes. It’s just that translation was a more advanced topic than what Hermione had implied. As it turns out, there was no single rune or simple rune array for translation. There wasn’t even just one type of array. Instead, there were different arrays depending on what needed translating. For example, the runes needed to translate written language were different from the runes needed to translate spoken language, which was a slightly different array from the one that translated the user’s voice for others around them. Then, on top of that, the runes had to be carved into something durable. For written language, glasses and monocles were the tool of choice, though another book Hunter read mentioned something called a reading stone being used for the same purpose. Regardless, Hunter didn’t have the skill, time, or money to acquire glasses and a rune carving kit.

Hunter put the introductory runes book back on the shelf, then groaned. If only there was a place where I could find already finished translator glasses.

Hunter facepalmed. I am such an idiot.

He had forgotten the Room of Requirement was also the lost and found room for the entire castle. Wasting no time, he quickly exited the library and made his way towards the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy.

Hunter stood in awe of the sight in front of him. As far as the eye could see, there were towering stacks of various items haphazardly strewn about. Surprisingly, there were also floating paper lanterns spread across the room, giving the place a calming red glow. 

Strange, Hunter thought. I don’t remember the books mentioning that the Room of Hidden Things had its own magical lighting. At least I don’t need to use Ginny’s wand as a flashlight.

After the resistance he faced while in the Chamber of Secrets, Hunter determined that Ginny’s wand just wasn’t the best suited for him. So, while on his way to the Room of Requirement, Hunter decided to look for a potential wand for himself. But before he did that, Hunter chose to focus on finding what he came here for - a set of translation glasses or a translation stone.

Hunter grabbed Ginny’s wand and cast a spell. “Accio translation glasses!”

No glasses came flying towards him, nor did anything else when he recast the summoning charm but generalized his request to “something able to translate written works.”

However, Ginny’s wand was being slightly pulled towards something. He followed the pull until he came upon a stack of old chairs, tables, and cauldrons. He was about to walk away when a worn leather portmanteau bag on one of the tables with a torn note attached to it caught his attention. Hunter grabbed the note and read it:

Congratulations on purchasing the Stowe & Packers Grab-Sack! This expandable charm bag comes equipped with a special vacuum feature - just imbue some magic into the symbol on the bottom of the bag, point it at the object or creature you wish to store and watch in awe as the bag collects it for you! To organize your Grab-Sack… 

There looked to have once been more information, but it was torn off. Hunter examined the bag and sure enough there was a weird looking symbol etched into the bottom. He opened the upside down bag and shook it, expecting  its contents to fall to the floor, but nothing did. At first, he thought it was merely empty, but wasn’t certain. So, Hunter shook the bag again, listening closely to the bag. Sure enough, Hunter heard the faint sound of things rattling around.

Hunter looked in the bag and noticed another strange symbol on its inner lip.  He pressed his finger on it and felt a slight tingle.

It’s clearly a magic-powered feature like the vacuum, so now what? Hunter thought. Am I supposed to think ‘summon list of items’ or something?

A piece of parchment materialized in his hands. That was easy.

He looked at the note, which had a list written on it:

      Grab-Sack Manifest

• Legendary Mask 
• Cape of Herodiana
• Wand Diagnostic Kit
• Wand Holster
• “Advanced Alchemical Rituals” (Book)
• “The Wonderful World of Wandlore” (Book)
• Portable Potion Brewing Station
• Potions Chest
• Stone of Universal Translation
• 250 Galleons

Hunter put the list back into the bag and summoned the translation stone. What appeared in his hand when he pulled his hand out of the bag was a thick, translucent disk with rounded edges roughly the size of the palm of his hand. At first glance, the stone appeared to be blemishless. However, upon closer inspection, there were tiny runes lightly etched into the stone’s surface.

Now to find a wand, Hunter thought as he put the stone back into the bag.

He continued deeper into the Room of Hidden Things, stopping at a group of wands sitting out on a dusty table. One wand in particular stood out to Hunter, as if it was calling out to him. It was a rather plain one, straight and made of a finely grained and creamy brown wood. Its ivory handle twisted around the wand’s base and was topped with a blooming rose.

He picked up the wand and immediately felt his magic flow to the wand with way less resistance than he found from Ginny’s wand. Hunter smiled with glee. He had found a suitable wand.

Hunter summoned the wand diagnostic kit, which turned out to be a long, thin sparkling tablet made of a black glass-like substance, and placed his new wand on it. Below the wand, glowing purple text appeared:

          Hawthorn Wood 11” | Unicorn Hair Core | Condition: Good | Age: 111 Years

Hunter picked up the wand and kit then put both away in the grab-sack. To play it safe, he also grabbed the rest of the wands on the table as well. Worst case scenario, Hunter would sell them off to Ollivander or Borgin & Burke after he gained a body of his own. 

Turning around, Hunter made his way to the exit. He was tempted to keep searching for more valuables or even money to steal, but he had spent long enough controlling Ginny’s body and he had what he came for plus some extras. Several times he stopped and almost grabbed the thing that caught his attention, but when that happened, Hunter reminded himself of why he was there.

I can finally return to the Chamber of Secrets! Hunter thought excitedly as he neared the exit. Slytherin’s knowledge will be mine!

Hunter carelessly exited the Room of Requirement, not bothering to check if the coast was clear. He was too excited to care and assumed nobody would be around. If he had cast the Revelio charm, maybe then he would have avoided what came next.

“Ginny? Where did that room come from?”

Chapter Text

Hunter stood outside of the Room of Requirement, his hands shaking. For the past week he mentally berated himself for his carelessness in leaving the aforementioned room that led to someone discovering the room. Someone who was waiting for him to go in there.

Hunter took a deep breath. Well, here goes nothing .

He knocked on the door and waited for it to open. A moment later, the person behind the door opened it with a smile on her face.

“Ginny, you’re right on time!” said Georgina as she dragged Hunter into their accommodations for the night.

The Room of Requirement had been transformed into a near perfect recreation of a 1990s girls bedroom. Posters for various pop bands lined the tan walls and the trundle bed was pulled out and covered in pink bed sheets. At the back were french doors that lead to a patio with a firepit and two comfy lawn chairs. It was everything needed for the perfect sleepover, well mostly everything. The Room of Requirement couldn’t conjure up a working television or boombox. The same was said for snacks. Though, unlike the electronics, Hunter had a solution for getting those.

Georgina led Hunter to the beds, squealing and rambling the entire time. Hunter paid her little attention. He just wanted this over with.

Once he sat on the lower bed, Georgina looked at him, frowning. “Where are your pajamas?”

“My pajamas?”

“Yeah, silly! It’s not a sleepover without pajamas!”

Hunter looked at her, confused. “But I’m already wearing pjs?” He gestured to the night gown and pants Ginny had kindly dressed in before sending him here.

“You look like a 19th century aristocrat spending Christmas Eve hiding from three ghosts. You need some proper pajamas for a slumber party, like mine!” She motioned to her outfit of silver pants and a button up shirt of the same color. “Lucky for you we’re roughly the same size, so you can borrow one of mine!”

Georgina reached behind Hunter, grabbing a bag off the upper bed. She opened it, pulled out a set of pink pajamas identical to the one she was wearing, and handed it to Hunter. Hunter just sat there, refusing to move a muscle.

Georgina was having none of that and pulled Hunter up. “Don’t be shy, silly! There’s a bathroom right over there.”

Realizing there wasn’t a way out of this, Hunter trode to the plain white door opposite the french doors. Inside he found a typical British bathroom complete wallpaper on one of the walls and a separate tap for cold and hot water on the sink and in the tub.

Ginny should be here, Hunter internally grumbled, remembering the conversation he had with her earlier in the week.

{Georgina wants a sleepover with you in the Room of Requirement this Saturday}

“Don’t you mean ‘you’?” replied Hunter.

{No, I mean you. You’re the one who promised her something in return for keeping the Room of Requirement a secret and you were the one who got caught.}

Hunter frowned at Ginny’s answer. The last thing he wanted to do was to waste his limited time in the real world gossiping with a child. That was just wrong on so many levels. He hadn’t been 11 in years, so trying to act 11 would be awkward. More importantly, it would cut into his time to visit the Chamber. The last thing he wanted was. Hunter could hardly afford more delays or to break Ginny’s trust so soon. 

“She’s your age, though!” said Hunter. “And a sleepover would require me to use your body for more than four hours.”

{I’m willing to make an exception for this. Georgina’s nice, but she can be rather clingy.}

“Well, I’m not doing it.”

{If you don’t I’ll throw the diary away.}

“You wouldn’t dare!”

There was a momentary pause before Ginny responded. 

{I could never throw you out. Can you please just do this for me? I’ll owe you.}

Hunter sighed in defeat. “Fine. I’ll do it. For you.”

{Thanks! I knew I could count on you.}

I’m gonna regret this, aren’t I? Hunter thought.

Hunter stepped out onto the patio several minutes later, now dressed in pink pajamas. He had once again managed to avoid unclothing Ginny’s body by simply transfiguring her nightwear into an exact replica of the pajamas that Georgina supplied. Sure, they wouldn’t last the entire night, but they should last until Georgina falls asleep.

Georgina herself sat in one of the two lawn chairs in front of the firepit, looking at the fire within. Hunter quietly sat down in the seat next to her. It was at this point that Hunter saw the view Georgina had set up for the evening. Sprawling beyond the patio was a serene landscape of rolling hills leading to a tranquil lake that perfectly reflected the night sky above.

Magic sure is wonderful, thought Hunter. It reminds me of the nights I spent at my best friend’s house. Her house overlooked a lake, too. If only I could remember her name.  

Hunter turned his attention to the young girl next to him. “Great job with the room, especially the scenery out here.”

Georgina smiled. “I’m just happy it turned out alright. When you told me this place could create almost anything, I didn’t think it would be this detailed.”

“From what I heard the room relies on your imagination for the space. So this is all you.”

“I can have quite the imagination. I just wish this place could get us some food.”

“If this is your way of saying you’re hungry, I got you covered.”

Hunter snapped his fingers, causing two house elves to appear in front the patio door carrying two bowls of ice cream and two cups of juice. 

Georgina looked at them, astonished. “How did you do that!?!”

Hunter shrugged. “I asked them to. Who do you think cooks all the food in the Great Hall?”

“The food doesn’t just magically appear?”

“No,” Hunter explained. “That’s one thing magic can’t do - conjure food. It’s why the Room couldn’t just provide tonight’s food. So, Hogwarts hires house elves like these two here to run the kitchen. Speaking of them,” Hunter motioned for the elves to come closer. “I got you a vanilla ice cream and myself a strawberry one. Take as long as you want to eat them, too; they’re no-melt ice cream.”

Georgina took the bowl of vanilla no-melt ice cream and a cup. Hunter took the other bowl and cup, then watched the house elves apparate out of the Room of Requirement. 

She took a sip of juice only to almost spit it out. “Is this apple juice?”

“Yeah. I’m sick of pumpkin juice so I asked the house elves for something different and they recommended this.”

Hunter, of course, was partially lying. He actually asked the house elves for apple juice since he doubted they had soda and pumpkin juice was just disgusting.

“Thank you! Apple juice is my favorite.”

The two sat in mostly silence, enjoying the warm glow of the fake fire as they ate their no-melt ice cream, drank apple juice, and watched the simulated stars above.

“You fancy anyone?” Georgina asked as she finished her last bite of no-melt ice cream.

Hunter nearly choked on his apple juice. “W-what?”

“You know, crushes. Is there anyone you want to be your boyfriend?”

“No,” Hunter immediately answered.

“Not even Harry Potter?”

Hunter shook his head. “I hardly know him. The fact he hangs out with my youngest brother doesn’t speak well for his character. No way I’d date someone with the lackadaisical attitude and intelligence of Ron. That’s just…” Hunter exaggerated a gag. “Yuck.”

Georgina looked at him with suspicion. “But everyone’s saying tha-”

Hunter snapped. “The rumors are wrong, okay! We’re too young to have serious crushes, anyways, so can we please stop talking about it?”

Georgina looked defeated and looked out at the landscape beyond the patio. Hunter, meanwhile, just finished the rest of his strawberry ice cream and juice.

Sometime later, Georgina looked up at Hunter, a frown on her face. “I’ve never been to a sleepover before. Everyone at school avoided me like the plague. I was always jealous of the girls on the telly having sleepovers with their friends. I thought I could finally have that here. Ze-, I mean, Northcott strung me along those first few weeks, saying she’d invite me to her manor over break if I just acted like a ‘proper witch’ such as herself, which included mocking who she thought was weird, such as you. You’re the first person in ages to be nice to me. I realized recently I’ve been too clingy and pestering. I’m sorry for having been mean to you and for being annoying. I promise to be less of a burden from now on.”

A feeling of protectiveness stirred in Hunter. He couldn’t bear to see Georgina so sad. Hunter grabbed her arm and rubbed it reassuringly.

“You’re not a burden, Georgina,” Hunter said, giving her a brief hug. “No person is a burden, especially someone as caring as you. You can be a bit clingy, but it’s not your fault.”

Hunter comforted Georgina for another hour or so. When she let out the first yawn of the night, he guided her to the bed, which had shifted into a queen bed straight out of the Victorian era. Hunter tried to erect a pillow wall, but Georgina was having none of that. So he reluctantly hopped into bed, managing to keep some distance between himself and Georgina.

“Thank you, Ginny,” said Georgina. “I had a great time tonight.”

“I’m glad,” replied Hunter. 

He then closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

“Thanks for the sleepover, Γ̷̹̓̅ɛ̵͉͕̣̃͂ɹ̷͈͍̑͌̅р̷͉̳̾̉и̸̻͛͌̐τ̵̤̀ь̶͚̅̊,” said Hunter. “It’s been a bit hectic ever since M̴̻̓̀α̵͍̲͐̒д̷̰́ε̷̙̖͂λ̶̪̝̐ɪ̵̯͋̏n̵̨̾ was born. I haven’t got a good night’s sleep in days!”

“You’re the one who wanted a baby sister,” Γ̷̹̓̅ɛ̵͉͕̣̃͂ɹ̷͈͍̑͌̅р̷͉̳̾̉и̸̻͛͌̐τ̵̤̀ь̶͚̅̊ replied, his mouth full of popcorn from the bowl in front of himself and Hunter.

“Eww! Don’t talk with your mouth full, ya goofball!” Hunter playfully punched his friend in the shoulder.

Γ̷̹̓̅ɛ̵͉͕̣̃͂ɹ̷͈͍̑͌̅р̷͉̳̾̉и̸̻͛͌̐τ̵̤̀ь̶͚̅̊ swallowed his popcorn and took a sip from his bottle of Dr. Pepper. “Sorry. It’s just this popcorn won’t stay hot for long, then it’ll get all gross.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hunter said. “You and your popcorn. It’s got to be just the right temperature or else you’ll throw up.”

“Says the guy who can’t eat a pizza if all its cheese isn’t golden brown.”

“I’ll have you know that if the cheese on a pizza is white, it’s not done yet. Not even ketchup can make that taste good.”

Γ̷̹̓̅ɛ̵͉͕̣̃͂ɹ̷͈͍̑͌̅р̷͉̳̾̉и̸̻͛͌̐τ̵̤̀ь̶͚̅̊ chuckled. “You and I sure are weird about certain foods.”

“Yup,” said Hunter. “No wonder we’re two thirds of the wonky trio.”

Γ̷̹̓̅ɛ̵͉͕̣̃͂ɹ̷͈͍̑͌̅р̷͉̳̾̉и̸̻͛͌̐τ̵̤̀ь̶͚̅̊ frowned.“I wish Ο̵̬͍̯̾́λ̷͎͍̘̜̞͑̊̊̏͠∮̸̢̭̻̅͑̓̍̕͜ͅὠ̴̰̝̩#̷̛̲̄̆̎̒я̷̛̙̖ could have come. It’s just not the same without her.”

“Yeah,” said Hunter. “I can’t believe her mom said she couldn’t have sleepovers with us ever again. It’s so unfair!”

“And the reason her parents gave mine is so stupid! ‘Oh she’s too old to share a room with boys!’ I get that boys aren’t usually the best, but you and I aren’t like that. 

“No duh,” said Hunter. “Why do they think we mainly hang out with Ο̵̬͍̯̾́λ̷͎͍̘̜̞͑̊̊̏͠∮̸̢̭̻̅͑̓̍̕͜ͅὠ̴̰̝̩#̷̛̲̄̆̎̒я̷̛̙̖ and not one of the other boys at school?”

“Probably because we’re weirdos?”

Hunter chuckled slightly. “Yeah. What boy would want to join Girl Scouts?”

“Please don’t bring that up again,” said Γ̷̹̓̅ɛ̵͉͕̣̃͂ɹ̷͈͍̑͌̅р̷͉̳̾̉и̸̻͛͌̐τ̵̤̀ь̶͚̅̊. “I still get picked on once in a while in Cub Scouts for it.” 

“Sorry,” said Hunter.

The talk about scouts brought back a shameful memory for Hunter. At least you had the courage to say that out loud. I was too afraid to get humiliated for that. Still don’t know how you can stand Cub Scouts. It’s just not the same if Ο̵̬͍̯̾́λ̷͎͍̘̜̞͑̊̊̏͠∮̸̢̭̻̅͑̓̍̕͜ͅὠ̴̰̝̩#̷̛̲̄̆̎̒я̷̛̙̖ isn’t there. It sounds like fun, though. They both have made some friends there and have less time to hang out with me, especially Ο̵̬͍̯̾́λ̷͎͍̘̜̞͑̊̊̏͠∮̸̢̭̻̅͑̓̍̕͜ͅὠ̴̰̝̩#̷̛̲̄̆̎̒я̷̛̙̖.

“I’m worried, Γ̷̹̓̅ɛ̵͉͕̣̃͂ɹ̷͈͍̑͌̅р̷͉̳̾̉и̸̻͛͌̐τ̵̤̀ь̶͚̅̊,” said Hunter. “What if Ο̵̬͍̯̾́λ̷͎͍̘̜̞͑̊̊̏͠∮̸̢̭̻̅͑̓̍̕͜ͅὠ̴̰̝̩#̷̛̲̄̆̎̒я̷̛̙̖ abandons us because we’re boys? I don’t wanna lose her.”

“Me, either, Hunter, but we can’t let her parents ruin your night of good sleep, right?”

Hunter nodded.

“And look on the bright side,” said Γ̷̹̓̅ɛ̵͉͕̣̃͂ɹ̷͈͍̑͌̅р̷͉̳̾̉и̸̻͛͌̐τ̵̤̀ь̶͚̅̊. “At least we won’t have to take turns playing Super Smash Bros. now.” Γ̷̹̓̅ɛ̵͉͕̣̃͂ɹ̷͈͍̑͌̅р̷͉̳̾̉и̸̻͛͌̐τ̵̤̀ь̶͚̅̊ grabbed two controllers off the top of his dresser, keeping one for himself and handing the other to Hunter.

“I guess,” said Hunter, taking the other controller. “I call Kirby, by the way.”

“Fine by me,” said Γ̷̹̓̅ɛ̵͉͕̣̃͂ɹ̷͈͍̑͌̅р̷͉̳̾̉и̸̻͛͌̐τ̵̤̀ь̶͚̅̊ as he turned on the gaming console. “I like playing Samus, anyways.”

“That’s because you only play Samus,” Hunter said.

“Exactly.”

The title menu was on screen, and before Hunter knew it, he and his friend were playing their first round of Super Smash Bros. They played round after round well into the night, calling it quits around midnight.

Shortly thereafter, the dream ended, and in the Room of Requirement, the one wearing a nightgown that were temporarily pajamas woke up.

What a weird dream, Ginny thought as she set up and stretched. Who is Hunter and why could I only hear his name?

Chapter Text

It was to Hunter’s dismay that the Saturday following his sleepover fell on Halloween. Everyone was expected to be celebrating the holiday, so it would be a lot harder to get to the Chamber of Secrets. Sure, he could have waited another week and not had to sneak around the whole castle, but Hunter simply did not feel like waiting another week. Luckily, he had a way to get out of the crowded Halloween Feast.

This Halloween just happened to be the 500th anniversary of the death of Gryffindor’s resident ghost, Nearly Headless Nick. To celebrate, the aforementioned ghost threw a deathday party in a ballroom in the dungeon. Hunter was going to ask Ginny to get an invite, but that turned out to be entirely unnecessary; she had been invited by Ron.

So Hunter had joined the Golden Trio in their journey to the deathday party. Of course, he couldn’t stay the whole time. That’s where Hermione came in. As in canon, Hermione managed to offend Moaning Myrtle, causing the ghost to leave sobbing in anguish. A few minutes later, Hunter said he had a stomach ache and left.

It took longer than he liked, but Hunter was able to make it to the second floor girls’ restroom without incident. After ensuring nobody was nearby, Hunter entered and was immediately confronted by its resident ghost. He stood just past the entrance in a defensive pose, his pensive facial expression reflected back to him from Myrtle’s thick, pearly spectacles.

“Have you come to mock fat, moaning, moping Myrtle some more?” Tears fell down the glum ghost’s face.

“N-not at all,” Hunter said, trying to sound as nervous as possible. “In fact, I wanted to give you a gift. Yes! Give you a gift.”

Myrtle glided closer to Hunter, looking rather unimpressed. 

“Let me guess,” Myrtle snarked. “You’re gonna ‘give’ me something like a book thrown in my face or another cruel insult, right?”

“Closure,” answered Hunter, toning down the nervousness. “I’m offering you closure.”

“Closure on what?”

“You know the what, where, and when of your death, but I know the rest. I can tell you who killed you, why he killed you, and how he did it. If you follow me, I’ll tell you all that and more.”

“Fine,” said Myrtle. “But I’m watching you!”

Hunter shrugged his shoulders and opened the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets, making sure the stairs came out as well. Myrtle looked at the entrance with shock and amazement. Given the last time the chamber was open resulted in her death, it made sense that she did not know of its existence, let alone that its entrance was in her bathroom.

Hunter motioned for her to follow him down the stairs. She did so, floating right behind him the entire time. Not a word was spoken as they made their way to the main chamber, though if Myrtle’s constant looking around and facial expressions were something to go by, she was both in awe and terrified. Eventually, they came to the statue of Salazar Slytherin and came to a stop.

“Welcome to the mythical Chamber of Secrets,” announced Hunter. “It only opens to those who carry Slytherin’s blood. But this empty chamber isn’t all that’s down here.”

Hunter awakened the basilisk, causing the statue’s mouth to open. Before it could slither out, Hunter issued one more command.

§§Close your eyes and do not open them until I say so.§§

As the basilisk’s hissing got louder and its scales became visible, Hunter started talking. “This, Myrtle, is a basilisk. It has been here for about 1000 years, waiting to serve the heirs of its first master, Salazar Slytherin.” The basilisk was now fully out of the statue, its face only feet away from Myrtle. “Do you know why basilisks are so deadly? In addition to its potent venom, looking right into the eyes of a basilisk results in instant death.”

Realization dawned on Myrtle, her expression turning to horror. “S-so this basilisk…”

“Yes,” replied Hunter. “This basilisk was what killed you.”

“But why?”

You were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. The previous heir hated witnesses. After all, Tom Riddle was supposed to be an upstanding student, not a dark wizard. The last time he opened the chamber you happened to be in your bathroom, so the basilisk killed you by his command.” 

“I always knew there was something wrong with Riddle,” Myrtle commented. “Something about him always seemed off. Sure he acted nice, but he always seemed fake.”

“No wonder he turned out to be a dark lord.”

“Don’t tell me… He was that Hitler wannabe who terrorized Wizarding Britain until a decade ago, wasn’t he?”

“I’m afraid so. You were indeed the first victim of Lord Voldemort. But you’ll be happy to know that he was defeated by an infant 11 years ago tonight and is now stuck as a wraith, cursed to wander the Earth for all eternity. He can’t hurt anyone ever again.”

Myrtle started glowing and slowly floating upwards.

“What’s happening?” asked Hunter.

“I don’t know,” said Myrtle, her voice sounding more ethereal. “But I feel like this is the last time we’ll ever talk, so, thank you for finally giving me closure and I hope you have a great life.”

Myrtle’s glow became blinding, causing Hunter to close his eyes. Once the flash was gone, Hunter opened his eyes only to find Myrtle no longer there.

Hunter panicked. Oh crap! If I can’t find her I can’t stop her from telling everyone where I am and if that happens Dumbledore will come down here and thenIllbecaughtandkilledand-”

§§Master!§§ hissed the Basilisk, its eyes now opened . §§Are you alright?§§

Hunter’s head snapped up. §§No! That ghost is gone and if I don’t find her she’s likely to tell everyone about this place!§§

The basilisk rolled its eyes. §§She won’t tell anyone. Not when she’s moved on.§§

§§Moved on?§§

§§Yes. You helped finish her lingering business, allowing her to move on.§§

So she’s not a problem anymore, thought Hunter. It’s not what I was aiming for, but at least now she can’t mock Hermione or perv on Harry in the prefects’ bath. And, best of all, I won’t have to worry about her whenever I come down here!

§§Excellent,§§ said Hunter. §§Now, if you need me, I’m going to study the remaining texts.§§

§§And I shall guard against threats.§§

§§Just make sure you don’t kill anybody. And remember to stay hidden.§§

Hunter made his way to the library while the basilisk slithered off to fulfill his command. Sitting down at the table, he grabbed his Grab-sack from beneath his robes, enlarged it, and set it on the table. He then opened it, grabbed the translation stone, a piece of blank parchment, and an inkwell and quill. Once his quill was full of ink, Hunter placed the translation stone over the closest document to him and began reading them.

He read through the documents one by one. Three of them were somewhat useful, those being a flight spell, most likely the one used by Voldemort in canon, a spell to temporarily give oneself the vision of a snake, and a memory extraction spell requiring the caster to be a Parselmouth. He wrote the three spells down in his notes and continued reading. The rest of the spells were not as useful. There was a sleeping charm that only worked on the caster, a curse that made one only able to speak parseltongue, a voice mimicry spell, a-

Hunter’s attention turned to that last spell. What’s this?

Vox Mutante - mimic any voice from memory; just tap your wand on your throat and say the incantation

Interesting. Very interesting.

Hunter pulled out his wand and cast the spell, simultaneously thinking of the voice of the first person who came to mind.

“Hello?” Hunter covered his mouth. “Testing.” He covered his mouth again. The voice that came out was not Ginny’s, but that of Tom Hiddleston.

Hunter held back a squeal of excitement as he cast the General Counter-Spell, returning the voice of Ginny’s body back to normal.

The last few documents proved to be the most useless of the bunch. One showed a spell that changed the color of the light emitted by the Lumos charm, while the rest weren’t even spells, just random scribbles. One appeared to be a love letter written by Salazar Slytherin to his wife while the rest were accounts of mythical creatures. Nonetheless, Hunter copied it all down.

At least the voice spell was interesting.  

As he put away the translation stone, something glowing caught his attention. He turned around and found a glowing message etched into the wall:

Find the Scriptorium across from the snake den. The snakes’ sight shall lead the way, and his secrets shall be on display. Good luck, Mr. Potter.

Hunter’s eyes widened. His emotions were a mix of worry and excitement. On one hand, it could be a trap set by Voldemort to get Harry Potter. On the other hand, though, it was likely not a trap set by Voldemort given Tom’s memories did not contain such an event or knowledge. If the latter turned out to be true, Hunter still had a chance of finding a spell or ritual that could give him a body of his own. 

Filled with excited energy, Hunter gathered his belongings and exited the library, looking for the basilisk.

Hopefully she knows something about this Scriptorium.

Just then, the basilisk emerged from Slytherin’s statue.

§§I return, master,§§ hissed the basilisk.

§§Am I glad to see you, uh… Sorry to ask, but do you have a name?§§

§§Master Salazar named me Theresa.§§

That also solves the question of her gender, thought Hunter.

§§Theresa, do you know where the Scriptorium is?§§

§§No; just that it is in the dungeons and can be found with snake sight. Alas, I come bearing bad news. I dealt with an intruder outside the chamber. I sensed another person coming before I could hide the body, though.§§

§§WHAT!?!?! STAY HERE!§§

Hunter bolted out of the chamber, testing the flight spell to get out faster. Unfortunately, Hunter failed to stick the landing and bumped his head on the bathroom door. After briefly collecting himself he scanned the bathroom for the intruder. Finding no body, Hunter burst into the hallway, and what he saw shook him to his core.

Written on the wall in a red substance was the phrase: 

“THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR BEWARE!”

He felt weightless and before he knew it, Hunter was thrust back into the voidspace on a collision course with the sinister grey orb.

Chapter Text

Ginny’s head throbbed with whiplash. The last thing she remembered was wishing Tom a good time at the deathday party. Now she was standing in front of some ominous writing written in red paint. Curiosity lurched her forward until her foot stepped on some lumpy rug. Ginny looked down and saw it was not a rug, but the body of Mr. Filch.

Ginny slowly backed away from the caretaker’s body and began to hyperventilate. She tripped on herself and fell on her behind, putting her face to face with Filch’s terrified expression. 

“AHHHHHH!!!!!” Ginny let out a terrified scream, drawing in students on both sides of her. On her left were her brother Ron and his two friends, while on her right were a mix of students from all four houses led by Draco Malfoy.

Ron helped his sister off the floor while Draco read the ominous message on the wall and smirked.

The blonde Slytherin’s smirk turned into a sinister smile as he turned towards the larger group of students. “You’re next, Mudbloods! The Heir of Slytherin has returned to finally rid the school of you pathetic lot and I can’t wait to see who he kills next!”

“Enough, Mr. Malfoy!” called out a voice down the hall from Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

Dumbledore had arrived on the scene, followed by a number of other teachers as well as the school’s matron, Madam Pomfrey. In seconds, he had swept past Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione, blocked the mass of students’ view of Mr. Filch, and briefly examined the body.

“Poppy, get a stretcher and have Argus transported to the medical wing,” Dumbledore said to Madam Pomfrey. 

She agreed and summoned two house elves and a stretcher. They proceed to lift the petrified caretaker onto it and carry it towards the medical wing.

“Come with me, Miss Weasley,” said Dumbledore. “You too, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter, Miss Granger.”

Professor Lockhart stepped forward eagerly. “My office is nearest, Headmaster, just upstairs. Please feel free to –”

“Thank you, Gilderoy,” said Dumbledore.

The silent crowd parted to let them pass. Lockhart, looking excited and important, hurried after Dumbledore; so did Professors McGonagall and Snape.

As they entered Lockhart’s darkened office there was a flurry of movement across the walls; Ginny saw several of the Lockharts in the pictures dodging out of sight, their hair in rollers. The real Lockhart lit the candles on his desk and stood back. Dumbledore took a seat behind Lockhart’s desk while the other professors stood behind him. The quartet of students exchanged tense looks and sank into chairs outside the pool of candlelight.

Dumbledore looked at Ginny closely through his half-moon spectacles, his twinkling eyes scouring every inch of her face. Professor McGonagall was bent almost as close, her eyes narrowed. Snape loomed behind them, half in shadow, wearing a most peculiar expression, as if he was trying hard not to smile. Lockhart, of course, was hovering around his fellow faculty throwing out a theory of his own.

“This reminds me of a case I helped solve in Kampuchea,” said Lockhart. “A squib was found dead on his farm in a similar state to poor Argus. The locals believed some ancient curse had befallen him and was at risk of getting them next. After some clever sleuthing, I discovered that it was not a curse, but the venom of a rare creature which claimed the life of the farmer. I managed to track the creature to a gang hideout in the middle of the jungle and capture not only the gang’s leader, but his entire inner circle as well. Turns out the farmer owed the gang a lot of money and they got tired of waiting. We should start looking through Filch’s belongings to find possible connections to organized crime!”

Lockhart’s suggestion was met with a scoff from Snape and suppressed laughs from Professors McGonagall and Flitwick.

“I heard Argus rambling on about Potter earlier,” commented Snape. “Something about the boy discovering something rather personal about himself that he’d like to remain hidden. He was rather upset by it from what I understood.”

“None of them were present at the mandatory Halloween Feast, either,” said Professor McGonagall.

Snape looked at them accusingly. “Why weren’t you at the Halloween Feast?”

Ginny looked down at her shoes, afraid of being put on the spot. Luckily for her, Harry decided to explain for the group. 

“We went to Nearly Headless Nick’s deathday party. It was originally just myself, Ron, and Hermione, but Ron invited his sister and Luna Lovegood just showed up.” 

Snape looked at the quartet suspiciously. “Deathday party? How preposterous!”

“I can vouch for them,” said Dumbledore. “Sir Nicholas himself informed me of the party a month ago and told me earlier this week that some students would be attending.”

“That explains why I did not see Miss Lovegood at the feast,” said Professor Flitwick.

“But why not join the feast afterwards?” said Snape, his black eyes glittering in the candlelight. “Why go up to that corridor?”

“Because…” Harry said nervously, starting and stopping multiple times before taking a quick breath. “Because we were tired and wanted to go to bed.”

“Without any supper?” said Snape, a triumphant smile flickering across his gaunt face. “I didn’t think ghosts provided food fit for living people at their parties.”

"We weren’t hungry," said Ron loudly, as his stomach gave a huge rumble.

“And Ginny said she didn’t feel well enough to eat,” added Hermione.

Lockhart looked at Ginny with a predatory smile. “Looks like we found our culprit. Some Veritaserum should get her to confess in no time!”

Lockhart started to pilfer through his desk, but was stopped by McGonagall and Snape.

“They’re innocent until proven guilty, Gilderoy,” Dumbledore said firmly. “We’ll examine the evidence and call back our witnesses should the need arise.”

Lockhart pouted. “But I have a vial of Veritaserum that’s about to expire.”

“That’s rather unfortunate,” replied Snape. 

“Indeed,” said Dumbledore. “Now you four return to your dorms and make sure to eat a big breakfast tomorrow.”

Not giving any of the other professors a chance to reply, the four students fled Lockhart’s office. Ginny ran off before the other three could question her about the evening’s events. After all, she had no memory of them.

Alone with her thoughts, one thought kept running through her head that night - What did Tom do?

For the next few days, the school could talk of little but the attack on Filch. Mrs. Norris, who had been found near the kitchen the next day, kept it fresh in everyone’s minds by pacing the spot where he had been found, as though she thought the attacker might come back. The few students who found themselves in that corridor were accosted by the cat, who was extra standoffish.

Even though Ginny’s presence at the scene of the crime should have made her suspect number one, her horrible scream had convinced even the likes of Draco Malfoy of her innocence. Nonetheless, Ginny had retreated into near total isolation. She felt betrayed and used. All signs pointed to Tom having petrified Argus Filch right before Ginny woke up, which would indicate a nefarious purpose. However, one glaring question kept bouncing around her head. Why would Tom wake her up in a spot that would make her suspicious of him? If he was guilty, wouldn’t he have at least taken her away from the scene of the crime before relinquishing control over her body?

Writing in the diary proved to be a futile endeavor when Tom didn’t respond to any of her messages. That just left Ginny further frazzled and anxious, which caused her to have a terrible time sleeping. Eventually, Ginny realized that if she wanted answers, she would have to find them herself.

Which is why on Thursday she found herself at the scene of the crime. Surely there was something there, right? Stepping over the sleeping Mrs. Norris, Ginny entered the abandoned bathroom. Nothing in particular stood out to her. Nothing immediately jumped out at her that would interest her. Nothing immediately caught her interest, so Ginny scoured the bathroom from top to bottom. Not a single stone was left unturned as she kicked open each stall, examined the fixtures, and looked out for suspicious carvings. When nothing turned up, she became desperate, and in that desperation, Ginny ran her hands along the faucet of each sink. The feeling of an etching causes her to stop cold in her tracks. She looked down at what her finger just ran over and saw an engraving of a snake.

Have I just discovered the Chamber of Secrets? Ginny thought. Did Mr. Filch do the same?

Ginny was still skeptical, until she heard a slithering from the pipes below.

§§Massssterrrr§§ rang out a hissing voice from beneath the sinks. §§Have you returned?§§

That all but confirmed that she had indeed found the Chamber of Secrets, so Ginny pressed her thumb on the snake engraving and commanded it to open.

“Open… Open…” Ginny got increasingly frustrated as the entrance remained closed.  §§Open§§

Ginny was pushed back by the sinks as they moved out and revealed a gaping pit with a staircase spiraling into the darkness. Seeing there was no other way, Ginny descended into the darkness, her wand ready to fire a stunning spell at the potentially hostile creature who inadvertently helped her open the chamber.

Ginny was met at the bottom of the stairs by the sight of a giant snake’s head, its yellow eyes piercing her very soul. Her first reaction was to flee, but before she could do that, the snake spoke.

§§Master! I am hungry. I. Must. Feed!§§

Ginny raised her hands up, her wand pointed at the snake. “W-who are you? Why did you summon me down here?”

The giant snake looked back at Ginny, confused.

“Umm… Hello?” Ginny asked.

§§Why are you not speaking parseltongue?§§

Ginny’s eyes widened. “P-p-parseltongue?”

No, Ginny thought. There’s no way. Is Tom a dark wizard?!?

§§This jest is getting old. You opened the Chamber, so I know you can speak it.§§

§§Open?§§ Ginny’s hands immediately went to her mouth.

The basilisk intensified its stare. §§You have the same body as her, but you are not the same master. Yet my gaze does not kill you, which means you are also a descendant of Master Salazar. I have never had two masters at once. This is exciting! What do I call you?§§

Ginny paled and started retreating up the steps. §§YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO KILL ME?!?§§

§§You are immune to my gaze and that of any other basilisk,§§ replied the basilisk, §§as are all the descendants of Salazar blessed with his gift.§§

§§Tom released a basilisk!?!§§ Ginny accidentally said out loud. §§Is he trying to get us all killed?§§

§§I merely protected my master from a threat!§§ replied the basilisk. §§That grumpy old man wanted to harm her. And you never gave me your name.§§

§§My name is Ginny.§§

§§Wonderful to meet you, Master Ginny,§§ replied the basilisk. §§I shall protect you like I protect Master Tom.§§

I need to talk to Tom. I don’t know how, but I will force him to talk tonight! Ginny turned around and started to ascend the stairs.

§§There is an old bedchamber you can use to talk to her.§§

§§What?§§

§§You can use the bedchamber to contact Master Tom. Much closer and more secure than wherever you were going. It’s the door on the right side of Master Salazar’s statue.§§

§§Thanks!§§ Ginny ran off towards the Chamber proper, ignoring the basilisk’s misgendering of Tom as well as its demand for food.

Chapter Text

Hunter had been through Hell. After crashing into the grey orb, he was subjected to the worst of Voldemort’s memories, the ones he had avoided seeing. Hunter saw child Voldemort attack the kids who had bullied him until he had established himself as king of the orphans. He saw Voldemort discovering Theresa killing Myrtle and creepily smiling over it. Then the scene shifted to the preparation and creation of the Diary Horcrux, the deeds committed too grotesque and sinister to describe. If he’d been able to, Hunter would have vomited after watching Tom’s final memory. The worst part, though, was the foreign feeling of glee and rush of adrenaline from watching Voldemort’s evil acts. They were so strong that, for a brief moment, Hunter felt he was Voldemort and forgot all about himself.

After escaping the clipshow from Hell, Hunter woke up to a horrid sight. All around him were the burnt out ruins of Hogwarts castle, the world void of color. The once great castle was not just piles of rubble; not a single tower was left standing. Above he heard the nightmarish cries of dementors as they circled the area like vultures, one occasionally diving down to feed on unfortunate souls. And on top of the pile of rubble closest to Hunter stood a tall pale boy with jet black hair, piercing red eyes, and, most disturbingly, Hunter’s cleft chin.

“Who are you?” Hunter asked the boy.

“Don’t you recognize me?”

Fear ran through Hunter’s very essence, for that person spoke with a voice that sounded like his own voice laid atop Ralph Fiennes’.

“You can’t be Voldemort! You’re supposed to be gone!”

“Oh, poor Hunter Brooks,” said Voldemort mockingly. “Did you really think you got rid of me?”

“You can’t be real! Your sentience, your personality, your essence was never in the horcrux once I got there.”

The dark lord laughed. “You can never get rid of the unkillable! I hid and bided my time, waiting for the perfect moment to turn you into me.”

 “You’ll never get me to act like you!” Hunter spat out.

“I don’t have to because I already have. Last I checked I wasn’t the one who opened the Chamber of Secrets and sicced Theresa on poor that bitter old squib.” 

“It was an accident!”

“Sure it was,” Voldemort sarcastically replied, “just like it was an accident that killed your friend.”

Hunter looked down and in front of him was a body covered by a blood soaked white sheet, out from which poked strands of red hair.

Upon realizing whose hair he was looking at, Hunter fell to his knees on the verge of shock. “N-no. I di- I didn't kill her”

“I’m afraid you did,” said Voldemort with a look of satisfaction on his face. “Watching you kill those blood traitors’ spawn was such lovely entertainment after months of your sick game of pretend with her and that Mudblood. That, though, was nothing compared to the gifts you gave me.”

“W-what?”

“Once you released the basilisk it was only a matter of time before I could strike. And when I did, I was rewarded not only with a strapping body, but the knowledge to finally win!”

“H-how!”

Voldemort descended from his position and lifted Hunter’s head up by the chin. “I took over a long time ago. You’re only here now because I wanted you to see the fruits of your labor and know you never had a chance.”

Voldemort fished around in his robes and pulled out the severed head of one Harry Potter. Hunter gagged and tried to turn his head to throw up, but Voldemort’s grip was too firm.

“Look at it! Your childhood hero is no more and it’s all thanks to you.” Voldemort laughed maniacally as he shoved Hunter onto the ground. “And now it’s time to say goodbye”.

Suddenly the wind picked up, seemingly whispering one word: “Tom.”

Above the two the sky brightened and several dementors exploded into white light. Voldemort was distracted and Hunter took the opportunity to escape. By the time Voldemort noticed Hunter was missing, the latter had already taken cover behind a tree.

“You think hiding will help!” shouted Voldemort furiously. “You’re merely delaying the inevitable and making it worse for yourself.”

Hunter looked around and found his wand. The wind once again whispered “Tom,” this time making Hunter’s wand appear right beside him. 

Hunter picked up his wand, pointed it at Voldemort and shouted “Avada Kedavra!” 

The curse hit Voldemort straight on, but instead of killing him, it only made Voldemort bigger and his face less human. In a panic, Hunter sent off more killing curses, leaving Voldemort 20 feet tall and looking exactly like he did in the later novels.

With a flick of his wand, Voldemort levitated Hunter right into the air. “You can’t kill the unkillable. I am inevitable!”

As Voldemort approached Hunter, the wind once again whipped by and whispered “Tom,” but it also came with a rumble that caused Voldemort to fall over and his wand hand to turn to dust.

Hunter looked down at the falling dark lord and smiled. “Have a nice trip, see ya next fall!” 

Voldemort struggled to get up and grabbed his wand. “Do you really think this is over? Even if I fall today, you’ll still turn into me.” 

Before he could say or do anything else, the wind returned with a vengeance. The world around them violently rumbled, the wind getting faster and faster and repeating “Tom” over and over again. Each repeat got louder and shook the world more and more until, finally, the world shattered into nothingness.

“Tom!” The person kept tapping him hard on the shoulder.

Hunter turned around and found Ginny looking at him rather upset. 

“Oh my God, Ginny, was it just a dream? Is this real? Are you really here? How did you get here?”

“I stuck my face in the diary, but that’s not important.” She then answered him with a slap to the face that phased right through his body. “How could you?”

Realization quickly dawned on Hunter. “I didn’t petrify Mr. Filch. It was-”

“A basilisk,” Ginny interrupted. “I know. The basilisk told me it petrified him, but that wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t released it.”

“I didn’t order Theresa to do that! I just asked her to keep a lookout and to scare potential intruders away, not harm them.” Before he let Ginny talk, Hunter realized something important: “Since when can you talk to snakes?”

“Since when are you the Heir of Slytherin?”

“I’m not the Heir of Slytherin! I just have the ability to speak to snakes and now so do you.”

“You’re nothing but a monster! Only monsters can talk to snakes and petrify innocent people!”

Hunter was enraged. How dare she call me a monster!

“If I was a monster,” Hunter replied, “I wouldn’t have asked for your permission to do this every Saturday.” 

With a single thought, Hunter took control of Ginny’s body. He walked over to the bedroom, sat on the bed, then relinquished control of her body. Hunter found himself alone in the void.

Ginny popped into the void a few moments later, anger written across her face. “You disgust me! How could you violate me like that?”

“All I did was show I could have taken control of you at any time. Yet I didn’t. Why? Because I. Am. Not. A. Monster!”

“How can I believe you? For all I know your agreement was just a way to trick me into trusting you! You were obviously doing something evil. Why else would you be in the Chamber of Secrets?”

“BECAUSE I WAS LOOKING FOR A WAY TO STOP BOTH OF US FROM FUCKING DYING TO THIS STUPID FUCKING CURSE!”

Ginny paled. “W-what?”

“I really wanted to avoid this conversation, but, yes, the diary is cursed. It was made with magic most foul, meant to grant its maker the ability to cheat death. That monster created a way to lure in unsuspecting victims and slowly siphon away their life force until he was strong enough to permanently control the victim’s body. Instead of capturing or anchoring his soul, though, I became trapped in his place. So, the moment you wrote in the diary, it started to slowly siphon your life force and give it to me. If I can’t do anything to get a body of my own, you will die by the end of the school year. Destroy the diary before then and we both die. I’ve used every Saturday to scour the school for anything to save us both, but I have found nothing so far. I thought the Chamber of Secrets would have been different, but that bastard cleaned it out of anything super useful.” 

“You had no right to keep this from me!”

Hunter was incensed. “What would you have done if I told you?”

“I could have helped you!”

“Really? Then, tell me, what could you, an eleven-year-old girl, have done? You are a first-year who has barely dipped her toes in the metaphorical pool of knowledge of magic. Sure, you could have gone to a teacher, but given the state of this world they’re as equally likely to kill us both as they are to save you. So where would that have left you? Nervous, depressed, and constantly filled with dread as the ever looming specter of death grew closer. Would you have wanted that?”

“No,” immediately replied Ginny. “I guess not.”

“And that’s why I wanted to keep it a secret from you for as long as possible. I was going to tell you, just once I found a way to free myself and restore any vitality this damn curse will have robbed from you.” Hunter sighed. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way. No child should have to shoulder such a heavy burden.”

Ginny’s eyes lit up. “Professor Dumbledore can help! He’s the greatest wizard of our time. If anyone can help us, it’s him.”

Fuck! thought Hunter. I completely forgot about Dumbledore. He could be willing to help me, but something about him just doesn’t sit right with me. Who in their right mind leaves a child in an abusive environment for 11 years? I can’t tell Ginny that, though. She’d ne-

“Uhh, Tom?”

“Oh, sorry! Did you say something?”

“Yeah. I said Dumbledore could help us. He’ll know what to do!”

If Hunter had teeth, he’d be gritting them. “I don’t know, Ginny. As great as Dumbledore is, he has a massive blindspot when it comes to dark magic. Even though I helped catch the Heir, Dumbledore thought I was somehow the actual Heir, probably because I could speak to snakes. He may use my presence in the diary as proof of his conspiracy theory and decide to get rid of me with extreme prejudice. That wouldn’t be good, now, would it?”

“Oh, yeah,” said Ginny, sounding disappointed.

“I know we’re on our own here, but I know I can save us both.”

“So, what now?”

“Now I'm going to find out why Filch was around Moaning Myrtle’s restroom.”

“Not that,” said Ginny. “The curse. You do have something in mind, right?”

“Yeah, I have a lead. But right now finding out why Filch was poking his nose around here is more important. It could simply be a case of ‘wrong place wrong time,’ but that creepy message on the wall suggests otherwise. Now, I’m gonna need to borrow your body for this. I’ll give it right back once I’m done. Is that okay?”

Ginny looked down at her feet, then back up at Hunter. “Just make sure you return my body in one piece. And tell me everything that happened. No more lies between us.”

Hunter smiled. “Will do.”

Hogwarts sure is peaceful at night, thought Hunter as he snuck through the school, his limbs still partially asleep after several hours of hiding.

Waiting for midnight had been agonizingly slow, but it was a necessity in order to avoid the prefect patrols. Once they all went to bed, Hunter’s path to the medical wing was wide open. It’s not like Filch could catch him. In fact, Hunter was going to catch Filch tonight, if you could count approaching a nonmoving target as catching it. Filch was Hunter’s only remaining lead on how he ended up petrified. Hunter went to Theresa first, but she had left him with more questions than answers.

Hunter walked out of the bedchamber, finding Theresa slithering about the atrium in a frenzy. Her eyes snapped towards him the second the door closed.

§§Master Tom?§§ hissed Theresa.

Hunter grimaced at the name. §§Please don’t call me that ever again.§§

§§How else will I distinguish between you and Master Ginny?§§

§§Master Ginny?!? How can she talk to you?§§

§§I don’t know. She has his blood in her veins but seemed to have trouble speaking Parseltongue.§§

So the Weasley’s are descended from Salazar Slytherin? Hunter thought. That explains how Ron was able to mimic Parseltongue enough to get into the Chamber in Deathly Hallows. How did Ginny fluently speak it, though? Hunter shook his head. That’s not important!

§§Why was Filch in the bathroom?§§ Hunter hissed.

§§I don’t know.§§

Hunter frowned. §§So you’re telling me that bitter old man didn’t ramble about why he was there?§§

§§The squib mumbled quite a bit. I only understood a single word he said, though: Dumbledore.§§

Hunter gasped. §§Are you sure he said ‘Dumbledore?’§§

Theresa hissed out a simple yes.

Shit! Hunter thought. This isn’t good.

Hunter moved towards the study to grab his bag. §§I have to go. Do not leave the Chamber until I tell you.§§

§§But I’m starving!§§

Hunter rolled his eyes. §§Fine. Go hunt. Rats only, though! And come right back after!§§

Hunter didn’t encounter a single soul on his trek to the medical wing, not even one of the ghosts. However, there was one waiting in the medical wing when he entered. Mrs. Norris had not left Filch’s side and barely let anyone near her companion. As soon as she laid eyes on Hunter, Mrs. Norris started yowling and hissing. When he moved towards the bed, she pounced right at him. In a panic, Hunter cast the Full Body-Bind Curse at the cat, causing her to fall from her mid-air pounce.

After setting Mrs. Norris on a bed on the opposite side of the room, Hunter approached the sole occupied bed in the medical wing. There laid the petrified caretaker of Hogwarts, Argus Filch. Hunter didn’t get a good look at him on Halloween, so he took his time to do so now. Filch’s arms were behind his back, positioned as if he was trying to crawl away from something while his face was etched with a look of horror, his eyes wide with fear and his mouth agape.

Hunter felt sorry for the man as he pulled out his wand and cast the Parseltongue Memory Extraction Spell on him. Unlike the traditional spell, this one did not need a willing victim nor a pensieve to view said memory in since it did not copy the memory as much as it consumed the victim’s memory, which also made it an alternative to the Obliviation Spell. The only downside was that the caster was stuck with someone else’s memory in their head. If used too much, the caster could very well lose their sense of self and go insane. 

With a hiss and a flick of the wrist, a teal stream of light left Hunter’s wand and connected his head with Filch’s. A moment later, a bulge appeared on Filch’s end and made its way to Hunter. He saw and felt Filch’s fear as Theresa sneaked up behind him and appeared in the mirror he was looking at. The next memory up was the one Hunter was looking for and it filled him with horror. 

Filch was ordered to investigate Myrtle’s bathroom during the Halloween Feast by Dumbledore himself. When Filch refused, the headmaster made vague suggestions of misbehaving students that Filch would be allowed to deal with “however [he] please[d].” That quickly changed Filch’s mood from apprehensive to chomping at the bit. On his way out, Filch overheard Dumbledore muttering something that Hunter swore sounded like “I’ll get you, Tom.”

Hunter ended the spell and found himself overtaken by panic and nausea. Quickly freeing Mrs. Norris, he bolted out of the medical wing and beelined to the nearest bathroom.

Chapter Text

Hunter waited in the dark, abandoned shack wearing the mask and cloak he found in his bag. When he first pulled them out, Hunter laughed at how they essentially made him look like a knockoff of another Hunter, the character from the Owl House also known as the Golden Guard. The similarities only became more apparent when he found a small rune in the hood that expanded it into a full on cloak. It made him stick out like a sore thumb, but it did fully hide Ginny’s body. He had cast Vox Mutante, too, in order to sound like Tom Riddle did in the memories Hunter was left with. After all, he needed to sound somewhat like Tom for his guest.

Why was Hunter waiting? He wrote a letter yesterday asking someone to meet him in the Shrieking Shack on the evening of November 7th. At first he thought of having his guest get a private room at the Three Broomsticks, but quickly nixed that idea when he realized there’d be witnesses. He wasn’t going to risk Madam Rosmerta telling someone and Hunter didn’t want to use the Imperius Curse on an innocent person. That was a line Hunter was not willing to cross. And thanks to the Shrieking Shack, he didn’t have to.

After waiting for a solid 20 minutes, the front door burst open and in walked none other than Lucius Malfoy looking rather snooty.

“So you’re the one who sent me that letter?”

Showtime, Hunter thought. Hopefully I can still act.

Channeling the energy of a dark lord, Hunter spoke. “I take it my tip proved to be accurate?”

Malfoy snapped his fingers, causing two house elves to pop into the room. One looked on with sadistic glee as he tugged on a rope leading to the other house elf, who was bound, gagged, and bruised.

“Dipsy has punished the bad Dobby,” said the sadistic house elf.

“Dobby not disobey master,” said Dobby as he spit out the gag in his mouth. “Dobby keeps master’s plan and identity secret. Dobby swears!”

“How dare you defy me,” said Malfoy, coldly. “You could’ve gotten Draco killed today! From now on, you shall be forbidden from talking to anyone outside of House Malfoy and sabotaging any of my efforts! Dipsy, take him away.”  

Dipsy and Dobby disappeared, leaving an annoyed looking Lucius Malfoy and Hunter with mixed feelings. On one hand, Harry wasn’t sitting in pain in a hospital bed while his arm bones regrew. On the other hand, though, Dobby was now severely injured and was unlikely to be freed unless Hunter did something about it.

“Now, tell me, who are you and how did you know of Dobby’s plans?”

“Dobby was too nosy and talkative for his own good,” Hunter lied. “I happened upon that creature talking about his plans to remove Potter while he was stalking the Boy-Who-Lived. As for who I am, how do you not recognize me? After all, you do wear my mark.”

Malfoy’s eyes widened. “H-how are you here? The Potter brat killed you!”

Hunter convincingly laughed maniacally. “Did you really think an infant could kill me ?”

“But you never contacted us! And your mark faded after that night.”

“Oh ye of little faith. Just because my mark faded didn’t mean I was gone. Dumbledore managed to lay a trap in Godric’s Hollow that fateful night. If it hadn’t been for my power, I would have died instead of greatly weakened. I spent these last 11 years regaining my former strength and unlocking the long forgotten secrets of magic. Secrets which shall make me and my most loyal followers invincible against the so-called ‘light.’ I thought my Death Eaters were loyal enough to wait, yet your actions speak otherwise. Did I make a mistake in granting you a place on my side?”

Malfoy gulped. “No, my lord! I am most loyal to you! Please forgive me for my misdeeds!”

Hunter laughed. “It was a coward’s way out, sure, but it guaranteed I still had plants in the ministry when I returned. You’re no good to me in jail, Lucy, so I forgive you for forsaking me… for now.”

“Thank you, my lord!” Malfoy grovelled. “What is your bidding?”

“The final piece I need lies within Hogwarts. Alas, as long as Dumbledore is there, I am unable to acquire it. Therefore, I shall remove that old fool from Hogwarts. Permanently. But to do that, I need to know which board members have children currently attending the school.”

Malfoy eyed him suspiciously. “Why are you asking me? Surely the Dark Lord would already know such vital information.”

Shit he’s onto me! Hunter thought. Better nip this in the bud.

Hunter replied by hitting Malfoy with the Cruciatus Curse, sending the Death Eater onto the floor writhing in pain.

Hunter felt guilty for an instant until a thought came to his head. He’s a murderer. Lucius deserves this and more.

Any guilt over hurting Malfoy was gone and replaced with glee at seeing the Death Eater get a taste of his own medicine, causing Hunter to curse Malfoy for longer than he intended. When he was done, Malfoy was left twitching on the floor and out of breath.

“Question me again and see what happens!”

Malfoy collected himself and looked up at Hunter. “S-sorry, master, please forgive my insolence!” He righted himself and got into a kneeling position in front of Hunter. “The board members with students currently attending Hogwarts are Lord Davies, Lady Diggory, Lord Edgecombe, Lady Longbottom, and myself.”

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Hunter said in a condescending tone.

“If I may ask, what do you plan on doing with this information?” asked Malfoy as he stood up.

“Nothing to worry your pretty little head about for the time being. Just make sure you have cash ready to acquire some mature mandrakes.”

Malfoy nodded. “Is that all, my lord?”

“That is all for now. I will be in touch with further instructions.” Hunter dismissed Malfoy. The man made his way to the front door before Hunter remembered something. “This should go without saying, but you shall tell no one about tonight’s meeting. Not your wife, not your son, and not your fellow Death Eaters. I'd hate to have to rescind my forgiveness so soon.” 

“Understood, my lord.”

Upon making it into the castle, Hunter b-lined for the closest bathroom and proceeded to throw up his guts after ripping off the mask and cloak. Making Lucius Malfoy cower had been somewhat fun, but using the Cruciatus Curse and seeing what his actions had done to Dobby outweighed said fun. The aforementioned house elf was such a kind individual in the later books and now Hunter had probably permanently denied Dobby the freedom he deserved. Meanwhile, Hunter was disgusted by the almost foreign-feeling glee he felt casting the Cruciatus Curse on Malfoy. 

How could anyone not evil find pleasure in torture someone? Lucius Malfoy is evil, but I shouldn't get excited by his agonizing screams. Am I just as evil as Voldemort? After retching Ginny’s guts out, Hunter was still shaking from the memory of seeing Dobby all beaten and tied up.

It was for Harry’s and Ginny’s own good, it was for Harry’s and Ginny’s own good, Hunter repeated in his head. 

Hunter wanted to never inflict harm on innocent people again if he could help it. Alas, such actions would be necessary in the path to obtaining a body of his own and keeping Ginny alive.

Hunter looked at Ginny’s disheveled hair and face in the mirror and steeled his resolve. I’m fighting for her life and mine. I take no pleasure in what I must do, but I will do what I must to keep us both alive.

Hunter exited the bathroom and made his way towards Gryffindor tower. Along the way, Hunter passed an open window when a cold breeze blew across his bare calves, sending shivers down his spine.

Note to self: wear pants from now on, Hunter thought. Skirts are not practical this time of year. Even the Scots themselves would probably agree.

Hunter continued and almost made it to the staircase. However, he was met with the sound of footsteps in front of him before he could make it to the stairs, so he dived behind the closest corner to wait for the person or people to pass. As the steps grew closer, he heard three voices get clearer, which he realized belonged to Draco Malfoy and who he presumed were two other Slytherin boys.

“... you’re talking rubbish, Mitcham,” said Draco. “What’s next, telling us that the Rotfang Conspiracy is real?”

“But the Rotfang Conspiracy is real,” replied Mitcham. “My mum was approached by a coworker at the Ministry trying to get her to join it! Plus there’s the story of Grindelwald searching for some powerful weapon called the Red Fang, or as it’s known in German, the Rotfang, during the end of his war.”

“And I’m the Heir of Slytherin!” said the last boy sarcastically.

Draco laughed at that. “Good one, Goyle!”

“Like Goyle could ever be the Heir of Slytherin,” replied Mitcham. “We all know who it really is.”

“Why are you looking at me?” said Draco, confused. “I’m not the heir.”

“There’s no need to lie to your fellow Slytherins,” said Mitcham, “so you can stop pretending you’re not the Heir of Slytherin.”

The group stopped walking. “Now I know you’re a firstie,” said Draco ominously, “but you need to learn to watch what you say.”

“But aren’t you the heir?” repeated Mitcham.

“No, I’m not,” said Draco furiously. “Now stop talking about it if you know what’s good for you. Unless, of course, you want to wind up at the bottom of the Black Lake.”

“Same if you keep talkin’ with that Hufflepuff girlfriend of yours,” added Goyle.

“We’re just friends,” said Mitcham.

“Boys can’t be friends with girls, especially ones from such a lowly house,” said Draco. “It’s just not natural.”

Draco’s words triggered something within Hunter’s mind. He’d been in Mitcham’s position as a kid. He and his best friend were once an inseparable trio all throughout elementary school. Then they hit double digits and suddenly everyone was freaking out whenever Hunter and… And… And ḍ̴̸͚̏͋͡ʒ̷̤̈́ε̴̠̕m̴̨͋…

Hunter grew frustrated. Why can’t I remember my best friend’s name?

At that moment, Hunter put all his mental focus into trying to remember his best friend’s name. His efforts were met with a mental wall, but they quickly made enough cracks for something to trickle through.

That’s it! Her name was originally Ga-

Hunter was suddenly overwhelmed by the worst headache he’d ever had, feeling like a million hot needles were simultaneously both pushing into and bursting from his head. He fell over and let out a howling screech.

Footsteps rushed over to his position. Hunter managed to barely peel open his eyes to see the smirking faces of Draco, Goyle, and the scrawny blonde he assumed was Mitcham.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” said Draco menacingly.

“Looks like a nosy little blood traitor,” said Goyle, who proceeded to pull Hunter off the ground by Ginny’s hair.

“This is perfect,” said Draco. “I’ve been planning for weeks on how to get you alone and you came to me when no one else is around.” 

“Flint and Malfoy have had it out for you ever since you and that idiot brother of yours attacked them at practice,” whispered Goyle right into Hunter’s ear, making the latter wince away from the former.

Draco got right up in Hunter’s face. “Thanks to you, my reputation in Slytherin has taken quite the hit. So you’re gonna help me get it back.”

Panting and forcing his way through the pain of the headache, Hunter saw the younger Malfoy go for his wand. In a panic he simultaneously kicked Draco in the groin and elbowed Goyle in the stomach. The two boys fell over in pain and gave Hunter the opportunity he needed to escape. Grabbing his wand, Hunter cast Confundus on the three Slytherin students and ran to cover. From his hiding spot, Hunter heard them stumble around in a daze, catching them spewing garbles of sounds that could have been words. All the while, he held his breath and waited for them to pass. 

After a bit, it seemed like they got their wits back when Mitcham spoke up. “Did either of you guys feel that?”

“Yeah,” answered Goyle. “I think a Weasley just got the drop on us and hit me in the guts.”

Crap! thought Hunter.

“There’s no way one of those weasels was down here,” said Draco confidently. “It was probably just that annoying poltergeist Peeves pranking us.”

“I’m pretty sure it was a Weasley,” said Goyle. “The girl one, to be exact.”

“Don’t you think I would’ve known if I was attacked by that first-year?” said Draco angrily. 

“Yeah, Goyle,” said Mitcham. “It was probably just Peeves.”

“You’re probably right,” Goyle conceded. “I haven’t the slightest idea why Hogwarts lets that nuisance stick around.”

Phew! thought Hunter. That was close.

“Wait until my father hears about this! Peeves’ days are numbered.”

“We should probably get back to the Snake Den before that jerk comes back,” said Goyle.

“Then what are you standing there for?” said Draco. 

With that, the three Slytherins walked away from where they had encountered Hunter, their steps slowly fading into silence. Hunter should have left then, too, but something they said had caught his attention.

Snake Den… where have I heard that before? Hunter pondered until the answer came to him. That’s it! The Scriptorium is near the Snake’s Den. That message must be talking about the area in front of the Slytherin Dungeons!

Chapter Text

After casting the appropriate spell, Hunter had one conclusion: snake vision was weird. The colors of the world were muted, with reds entirely gone; the red of Ginny’s tie had gone grey. Yet at the same time, her body had a subdued red glow.

Oh, yeah, snakes can see heat, Hunter thought, which means whatever I’m looking for will likely be marked with infrared.

Hunter scanned the walls around Slytherin Dungeon for anything of interest and was quickly met with a glowing message on a random wall panel.

A snake speaker need only command the Scriptorium to open

That was easy, Hunter thought. I was expecting some kind of convoluted puzzle to get in.

§§Open§§ 

The wall panel slid to the side and revealed a spiral staircase down into who knows where. Hunter merely shrugged and began his descent. As the wall closed behind him, the staircase became awash with a dim glow. Quickly dispelling the snake vision spell proved that this was, in fact, the same lighting he had seen in the Room of Hidden Things. Before continuing, Hunter recast the snake vision spell. There was likely more ahead that would require the use of snake vision. 

At the bottom of the stairs Hunter was met with an immediate right turn into a hallway with the wall in directly in front of him containing more glowing infrared text on it which simply read:

Follow the arrows on the floor or you’ll easily get lost

Sure enough, there were glowing infrared arrows just beyond the message showing him the way forward. Hunter followed the arrows through the twists and turns of the labyrinthine system of hallways. He was not up for getting lost in a mostly dark dimly lit maze built by a blimey bigoted bastard. 

After an uneventful journey of following the arrows, Hunter arrived at Slytherin’s Scriptorium. Said scriptorium contained two rooms - a foyer and a study. The foyer was a tall round room dominated by a bifurcated stone staircase, which was centered on a giant statue of Salazar Slytherin’s face. At the top of the stairs was a study filled to the brim with bookshelves, an elaborately carved table in the center, trunks, and surprisingly a celtic looking statue at the very back.

Hunter went to the study table. Its surface was clear except for a letter secured by a wax seal. Examining the letter showed no addressee or any harmful spells. Hunter then opened the letter and saw it had the same handwriting as the one he found in the chamber.

Hello to the Mr. Potter of 1992! Yes, I know it’s 1992 because that’s the year I set for the Scriptorium to be opened for you and you alone. As for how I know it’s you, I am a seer of sorts. If you want proof, allow me to share with you the following facts: by 1992 the Soviet Union, which does not yet exist at the time of writing, will have recently fallen, Margaret Thatcher will no longer be Britain's Prime Minister, and Bill Clinton shall soon win the US Presidential Election. In the next few years, a wonderful gaming console called the PlayStation will be released and be a major success. Not as successful as its successor, the PlayStation 2, but still pretty successful. If you get a chance to visit the muggle world, go find and play a PlayStation. I guarantee you’ll like it.

Anyways, welcome to Slytherin’s Scriptorium! Here you shall find the entire collection of Salazar Slytherin, including the materials that I moved from the Chamber of Secrets. I apologize if my note left you upset, but it was needed to ensure your foe would not come looking for them. Hopefully you and your bookworm friend will be able to put this stuff to good use. Just make sure to practice due vigilance with this gift. I managed to de-curse the books and chests, but the content can still be deadly if not handled with caution and care. Speaking of the chests, they contain some powerful objects. You can’t rely solely on spells to defeat a dark lord, after all! But don’t worry about them falling into the wrong hands. In the unlikely event that someone else has plundered the place in the 75 years between now and your time, they won’t be able to access the chests. Those chests can’t be moved or opened by anyone who isn’t a Potter. I borrowed a hair from a relative of yours to key the chests to your bloodline. Good luck!

- Artemis C.

P.S. The Celtic tiki-head looking statue will teleport you to wherever in Hogwarts you wish to go. Just tap it with your wand and think of your destination.

Hunter calmly put the letter down before internally freaking out.

How is this possible? Did this Artemis person come from the future of this timeline? Or was she isekai’d like me?

Hunter didn’t know which outcome would be worse. On the one hand, a time traveller native to this universe could very well know about Hunter and set a trap to stop him. On the other hand, though, someone else with meta knowledge of the Harry Potter franchise could be just as dangerous of a threat. They could easily mess up canon in its entirety and leave Hunter blind to the wider world. Or also set a trap for him. Oh, and then there’s the fact that Artemis is likely a muggle-born. Who else would use an election outcome and a gaming console as a way to verify their predictions? Either way, Hunter’s thoughts were running wild with panic. There was someone out there who potentially knew the canon and could use said knowledge to sabotage his plans.

Hunter took a deep breath and calmed himself. Let’s think about this rationally. All the students and teachers I’ve encountered so far appear to exist in canon. Harry Potter still exists and appears to have also been orphaned by Voldemort and left with the Dursleys. And most importantly, Tom Riddle exists and created multiple horcruxes. Which means that either this person had no interest in changing canon or had spotty knowledge of canon and therefore is likely not coming after me!

His worries soothed, Hunter’s mind turned to the last part of the letter - he’d need Harry Potter to open the chests. All he could do for now is hope that the stuff that wasn’t in the chests would be enough to help him get a body of his own. 

Hunter pulled three books at random from the shelves. Setting them on the table, Hunter found that they were written in Old English, which he couldn’t read. After pulling out the translation stone to read the titles, Hunter felt like he had chosen well, for in front of him were what appeared to be copies of Moste Potente Potions , Secrets of the Darkest Art , and a book that appeared to be rather relevant to his own situation - Twisted Souls. Hunter immediately put the first two away in his bag; there wasn’t exactly a potions lab down here and he was sure that Voldemort’s memories covered most of the contents of Secrets of the Darkest Arts. They still were useful to have around, though.

Twisted Souls was the shortest of the three books, appearing to be no thicker than a notebook. It told the stories of various cases of possession by ghosts and wizards attempting to extend their own life, along with a story about a living horcrux wreaking havoc in Ancient Greece. All of them ended badly, with either the possessor suffering a painful death/erasure from existence, the possessed being taken over permanently, or both dying from incompatibility. Either way, this did not paint a nice picture for the future for Hunter if he couldn’t find a way to get a body of his own. The last story, though, gave Hunter hope. It told the tale of a wizard who’s soul had been ripped from his body and placed into the body of an innocent girl by an evil witch. The wizard’s body was destroyed and it seemed like the story would end in tragedy. However, the wizard was able to craft something called a soulstone to create a body of his own. However, what interested Hunter the most was the accompanying illustration. The soulstone was illustrated as a small orb colored red and purple covered in a golden glow. 

That looks just like the Philosopher’s Stone! Looks like I’m learning alchemy.

Chapter Text

Ginny nervously paced back and forth in front of the statue of the one-eyed witch on the third floor. Several students and even Professor Flitwick had walked past her since she started pacing, most of them giving her a weird look. Maybe they thought Ginny was nervous about the upcoming potions test, or perhaps they thought she was just plain weird. Both were far from the truth.

Ginny sat on the floor of the voidspace. She was glad Tom insisted she come here before telling her what he found out about how Mr. Filch ended up petrified in front of the bathroom. She wasn’t sure that any other room could have better contained her loud sobs and panic attack. How could Dumbledore do that? He was supposed to be the Leader of the Light yet here he was putting a man’s life at risk for no other reason than to try and draw out You-Know-Who. Dumbledore should have called the Aurors at the first sign of his return, yet instead kept quiet, as if he intended to thwart You-Know-Who himself. If he was willing to throw Filch’s life away, who else was he willing to send unwittingly to their doom?

“There, there,” Tom said as he patted Ginny on the back. “Let it all out.”

Ginny sniffled. “N-no. I’ve cried enough for now. We should probably discuss your plan. You do have a plan, right?”

The white figure moved from behind her to in front of her. He offered Ginny his hand and she grabbed it, getting off the floor.

“I do have a plan,” said Tom. “I know you’re gonna object to what I have to say next, but just hear me out. I’ll take care of getting Dumbledore out of here. You’re a kid who shouldn’t have to deal with the grownups’ problems. Plus Dumbledore can’t extract any memories that aren’t there, so you won’t get in trouble for what we have to do.”

Ginny’s eyes widened.

“Yeah. Dumbledore is a talented legilimens. All he has to do to find out what you’re hiding is to look into your eyes. It would be weird for you to never look him in the eyes ever again, so for your sake I’m keeping your involvement at a minimum. There is one thing I need you to do for me, though. I need you to get that map from your brothers.”

“What map?”

“Remember how Fred and George found you out after curfew and kept you safe from Filch? They did so using a map capable of tracking everyone in Hogwarts. I heard rumors of such things existing, but that event proved it. And in order for the plan to work, I need some way of making sure there aren’t any witnesses around.”

“So you want me to steal it from them?”

“No, that would just raise suspicions too much. You’ll ask them to borrow it. You could go with something about how Slytherins want payback for getting a spell on Flint or blackmail them to get it to you. Just as long as they keep quiet. When you’re done, you’ll place it in my bag and I’ll take it from there. Can I count on you?”

Ginny nodded.

Ginny didn’t know Fred and George’s schedules, but she did know at least one place they’d likely be - the statue of the one-eyed witch. She quickly decided the fastest way to get the map would be to hang out there and wait for them to come to her. If people thought she was weird for pacing in front of the statue for potentially hours on end, so what? They already thought of her as some quiet bookworm.

“Psst! Ginny!”

She turned around to see Fred and George peering out at her from behind the statue.

“Oh, am I glad to see you,” said Ginny. “Is there somewhere more private we could talk?”

Fred and George made their way to an empty classroom to the left of the statue and motioned for their sister to follow. Once Ginny was inside, George closed the door quietly and then turned, with a look of curiosity, to look at her.

“I think Slytherin is after me,” said Ginny with some truth. “They’ve had it out for me ever since I protected Harry from their quidditch team captain.”

The twins let out a nostalgic chuckle. 

“I still remember Flint’s spoiled whining about how his ‘perfect looks’ were ruined,” said Fred.

“He was just mad that everyone could see him for the troll he is,” said George.

“I wish I had thought of doing it sooner,” said Fred. “Maybe he would’ve learned some humility and become a better person.” mellowed out.

“I think they just get more annoying, like how a snake gets bigger when shedding-”

“Can we get back on topic here?” Ginny interrupted. “Slytherin is out to get me and will probably try to ambush me at some point.”

“So you need us to prank them so they don’t come after you,” said Fred assuredly.

“No, not that,” replied Ginny. “Remember that time you found me out after curfew?”

The twins both nodded.

“You said you had a way of tracking me,” Ginny continued, “and I’m wondering if I could borrow it to keep track of the Slytherin students.”

Fred and George looked at each other, then back at her, then back at each other again.

“While we’d like to help keep our Gin-Gin safe, we still need it,” said George. “How else are we gonna continue pulling our legendary pranks?” 

Ginny frowned. Great. Looks like I’ll have to resort to plan B, then.

But before she could blackmail her brothers, Fred came to her rescue.

“Now hold on, brother. Our little sister is in trouble right now. She needs the map more than us.” 

“So do we!” argued George. “Without it, we won’t be able to track our deserving targets and give them the prankings they’re owed.” 

“We’ll still be able to pull pranks,” said Fred. “Pranksters before us did just fine without it and so will we. Plus, with Filch out of commission, we won’t need to constantly track him or his cat.”

George raised his hands in surrender. “Fine, give her the map. We’ll make do without it.”

Fred beamed, pulled something from inside his cloak with a flourish, and laid it on one of the desks. It was a large, square, very worn piece of parchment with nothing written on it.

“This is just some old parchment,” Ginny deadpanned. “Is this some kind of joke?

"A bit of old parchment!" said Fred, closing his eyes with a grimace as though Ginny had mortally offended him. "Explain, George."

"Well, when we were in our first year, Ginny -  young, carefree, and innocent-”

Ginny chuckled. There were many words she would use to describe her brothers, but innocent was not one of them, especially when they were her age.

George let her finish laughing then continued. "Well, more innocent than we are now. Regardless, one day we got into a spot of bother with Filch."

"We let off a dungbomb in the corridor and it upset him for some reason."

"So he hauled us off to his office and started yelling at us with his usual threats of medieval torture  and we couldn't help noticing a drawer in one of his filing cabinets marked ‘Confiscated and Highly Dangerous.’”

Ginny grinned and her eyes lit up. “You didn’t!”

"Well, what would you've done?" said Fred. "George caused a diversion by dropping another dungbomb, I whipped the drawer open, and grabbed it. We had to polish the school awards without magic for a week, but it was worth it in the end."

"We don't reckon Filch ever found out how to work it,” said George. “He probably suspected what it was, though, or he wouldn't have confiscated it."

“It took us quite a while to figure it out ourselves and how to use it,” said Fred. “There’s no way that grumpy squib even came close to discovering it himself.”

“So, how does it work?” Ginny asked.

George took out his wand, touched the parchment lightly, and said, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

And at once, thin ink lines began to spread like a spider's web from the point that George's wand had touched. They joined each other, they crisscrossed, they fanned into every corner of the parchment; then great, curly green words began to blossom across the top that proclaimed:

Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs

Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers are proud to present 

THE MARAUDER'S MAP

It was a map showing every detail of the Hogwarts castle and grounds. Well, almost everything. Ginny didn’t see the Chamber of Secrets on the map. But the truly remarkable thing were the tiny ink dots moving around it, each labeled with a name in minuscule writing. Ginny found that Dumbledore was sitting in his office while Malfoy and his goons were in Slytherin Dungeon with several other of their housemates. She even found herself and her brothers in the abandoned classroom.

Ginny jumped into her brothers and gave them a big hug. “This is perfect! Thank you!”

Fred and George stepped back then the latter handed the map to Ginny.

“Just make sure to keep it safe,” said Fred. “We’d hate to see it end up in bad hands.”

The two twins then left the classroom, but George quickly popped his head back in.

“Don't forget to wipe it after you've used it. Just tap it with your wand and say ‘Mischief Managed!’ Then you got yourself a boring old blank parchment again.”

Then George joined his brother, leaving Ginny alone in the classroom to stew on her actions. She felt bad about lying to her brothers, but knew it was necessary. If they thought she was in over her head, they’d go to Dumbledore and get her killed.

She pulled out Tom’s bag, put the map in it, and made her way back to Gryffindor Tower.

It’s in your hands now, Tom, thought Ginny.

Chapter Text

It was three weeks after Halloween. Hunter, once again sporting the white cloak and grey stone mark, looked down at the Marauder’s Map and smiled. His target had taken the bait and was hurrying to the trap he had set. Now all Hunter had to do was make sure everything went off without a hitch.

That horny teen won’t know what hit him, thought Hunter.

Hunter turned around to face the ever patient basilisk Theresa. §§He will be there soon. You should get going. Remember to wait for my signal.§§

§§Yes, Master,§§ replied Theresa as she slithered into Hogwarts’ pipe system.

Just who was Hunter’s target? Thanks to Lucius Malfoy’s intel, Hunter had five students to choose from for his first target. That list was quickly narrowed down to two after removing Neville Longbottom for his age, Draco Malfoy for Lucius’ usefulness, and Cedric Diggory because Hunter felt bad for him. The remaining choices were third-year Ravenclaw Marietta Edgecombe and fourth-year Ravenclar Roger Davies. It was ultimately down to a coin toss between the two and said coin landed in Edgecombe’s favor.

Hunter was glad the coin landed on the side he assigned to Roger Davies. It turns out that the future date of Fleur Delacour was deeply in love with an older student, some fifth-year student named Beatrice Haywood. All it took to lure the boy was one fake love letter telling Davies to meet with her for a midnight confession and makeout session in a room in the third floor corridor. Since she was in Hufflepuff and a year older than Davies, there was little chance of him discovering the ruse ahead of time.

As for handling Beatrice, Hunter was once again blessed with an easy method. It turns out that Beatrice was a prefect who was scheduled for the last Saturday patrol. Observing her from a distance, Hunter was able to learn her voice and then hit her with a stunner and the Incarcerous spell. Thank goodness Voldemort had known how to cast Quietus before he left Hogwarts. There were a few moments where Hunter’s cover would have been blown had Beatrice been able to hear his footsteps. After Hunter stuffed her in the closest janitor’s closet and locked the door, he then made his way to the Chamber for his final preparations.

Once Hunter knew Theresa had left, he gathered the necessary instruments for the night and left for the third floor corridor. 

Hunter had spent his time possessing Ginny the prior weekend to scout out a good location to enact his plan and came across the perfect place for it. The room he chose was in a low traffic area and had a lovely trap door for Theresa to enter through. The fact this was also the entrance to the trap Dumbledore had set for Voldemort in the first novel was just icing on the cake. 

He pressed his ear against the door and heard pacing inside. Hunter then quickly cast Vox Mutante and knocked on the door.

“Roger,” said Hunter in a mimicry of Beatrices’ voice, “Can you let me in? I made sure we’re all alone.”

“Come in,” answered Roger seductively.

Hunter cringed at the kid’s tone and went inside. Where there had once been an empty room there was now a series of candles floating above a soft blanket laid right over the trap door. Meanwhile, Roger himself was turned around, slightly hunched over something in his hands.

Hunter merely rolled his eyes at the set-up that he hadn’t set up. Talk about a tryhard. This is supposed to be a makeout session and here he is setting up a grand romantic gesture. 

Roger started to turn around, causing Hunter to panic. “Stay still!” Hunter took a second to calm himself down before continuing. “I have a surprise for you.”

“Oh boy,” said Davies. “I wonder what it is?”

“I think you’ll love it,” said Hunter in a sing-song voice.

Hunter pulled out his wand, cast Alohomora at the door, then cast Incarcerous right at Roger Davies. The Ravenclaw soon quickly found himself trapped in ropes and falling face first to the ground, the thud causing Hunter to wince.

While Davies squirmed in his bindings, Hunter pulled out a small hand mirror from beneath his robes and sauntered over to his prey. Standing over the Ravenclaw, Hunter grabbed one of the ropes and yanked Davies somewhat upright with one hand, then placed the mirror in front of him with the other.

§§Now!§§

It was over quickly. Theresa burst out of the trap door and stared right at the target. Not even a second later, Hunter felt Davies go rigid beneath him. There was no build up to it, no dread and despair settling in, no chance to react, nothing. 

Hunter stood up, dispelled the ropes, and flipped Roger Davies’ body over, leaving him in an exaggerated pose of arching his back. Hunter expected to find some kind of fear in his facial expression, but instead the paralyzed petrified visage of Roger Davies looked back at his attacker more stunned than afraid.

At least he wasn’t scared out of his mind, thought Hunter. Still, though, he might have seen too much .

Hunter cast the Parseltongue Memory Extraction Spell on Davies and extracted the last few moments of the latter’s memory. The conflicting points of view of the same event caused Hunter to clutch his head in pain as the memories settled in him. It only lasted a few seconds, but it was easily one of the most intense headaches Hunter had the displeasure of experiencing. 

Once Roger Davies had no memory after being hit with the Incarcerous Spell, Hunter let the feeling of remorse flow through him. Roger Davies had never done anything wrong as far as Hunter knew. He didn’t deserve to be petrified for potentially several months.

Yet, Hunter also felt a feeling of satisfaction from seeing his plan go off without a hitch. In fact, he felt something pushing him to a more upbeat conclusion.

Yes, Hunter thought, something has finally gone the way I wanted it to and I’m one step closer to getting rid of Dumbledore. Then Ginny and I will be safe.

His work wasn’t done, though. Hunter kneeled down at the fallen Ravenclaw’s ankles and pulled out two small silver needles. Making sure his thrusts were true, Hunter jabbed the needles into Davies’ leg in a pincer formation, then pulled them out. To the casual observer, it would look like nothing was there. To those examining Davies’ body, they would see what looked like a spider bite exactly as Hunter intended. Sure, closer examination would show it wasn’t a spider bite, but it’s not like purebloods would care once they had a valid scapegoat to go after. 

Sorry, Hagrid, thought Hunter as he looked at his handiwork, but I need to keep Hermione from finding out the truth. Plus, acromantulas don’t belong this close to children. I’ll just make sure you flee before Fudge decides to ship you to Azkaban. 

Pulling himself from his thoughts, Hunter cast Scourgify on the blankets and candles and then cast Wingardium Leviosa on Davies’ clothes and moved the boy into the corridor.

His destination was not too far away from the scene of the crime. Hunter would have left Davies in there, but he was unsure if anyone would stumble upon his petrified body if it was in that seldom visited room. So instead, he opted to place Davies right at the feet of the statue of the one-eyed witch. Once the body was in position, Hunter ended the levitation spell, causing Roger Davies’ body to land on the floor with a soft thud. From the way he was positioned, it looked like the statue was Emperor Palpatine hitting Davies’ Luke Skywalker with electricity, which made Hunter laugh.

Hunter pulled out the phial of purple slime he had found preserved in a stasis charm in the potions kit in his bag then used it and Davies’ wand to write a message on the wall directly opposite of the statue.

YOU KEPT ALL THE MUDBLOODS LOCKED AWAY

SO I LEFT YOU THIS BLOOD TRAITOR ON DISPLAY

It looks cheesy and melodramatic enough, but will the staff fall for it? I wonder who will find Roger Davies first? Will it be one of the twins since they frequently come here… after curfew. Shit!

In a rush, Hunter yanked out the Marauder's Map and activated it. There was nobody close to his location, so he was safe. 

Note to self: double check the Marauder's Map before moving my victims into the open. 

Satisfied with the staging, Hunter put away the phial and departed for the Room of Requirement. It was too risky to try and sneak into Gryffindor Tower. Plus, the bed in the Room of Requirement was leagues comfier than the beds Hogwarts provided its students.

Along the way, a thought came to Hunter’s mind: I really need to learn the actual obliviate spell. The Parseltongue spell just isn’t worth the headache.

Chapter Text

Minerva McGonagall was not in a good mood. The past several days had left her tired and stressed out. What should have been a quiet day grading homework and finalizing exam questions was instead a day full of trying in vain to calm down frightened students. One of her Gryffindors had the misfortune of finding a fourth-year Ravenclaw petrified on the third floor. And just like every other bad event that had happened in the past two years, Harry Potter was involved; it was he who had discovered poor Mr. Davies. 

Of course, that meant her morning was spent not comforting her frightened students, but stuck in a shouting match with her coworkers while her boss just sat there and let it happen. McGonagall really wished Dumbledore would stop letting Snape harass her student over a grudge he had with the boy’s father. Yet she was forced to sit there and watch a grown man verbally attack a child. While she had expected Severus to try to pin Davies’ petrification on Mr. Potter and punish him, McGonagall did not expect Lockhart to barge into Dumbledore’s office, accuse the youngest Weasley of petrifying Roger Davies, and demand the right to use Veritaserum on her. Naturally, that idea was shot down almost instantaneously. Even Severus thought Lockhart was going too far. Since nothing could be proved, Mr. Potter was not punished in any way.

After Mr. Potter was sent back to Gryffindor Tower, the rest of her fellow teachers crowded in Dumbledore’s office and the ‘real fun’ began as two sides formed on what the school’s response should be. On one side were her long time colleagues Filius Flitwick and Arthur Plummly, along with the relatively new Muggle Studies professor Arif Sikander, demanding that Dumbledore summon the aurors. On the other were Lockhart, Septima Vector, and Aurora Sinistra insisting that they could easily take care of whatever it was that petrified Roger Davies and Argus Filch. The debate quickly turned into heated arguing over whether or not to call the aurors with the few precautions for the students suggested by herself and Pomona quickly forgotten about amongst the arguing. Only after it had devolved into insults thrown about did Dumbledore step in. The aurors were not summoned, but the house ghosts were ordered to report any student who left their dorm after curfew. While McGonagall also wanted the aurors summoned, she understood why Dumbledore wouldn’t and it was futile for her to try and go against him. 

Dumbledore’s decree wasn’t the end of things. Lord Davies, who sat on Hogwarts’ Board of Governors, stormed into the school on Tuesday after his son failed to reply to his sister’s letter. To say he was displeased at the sight of his petrified son would be like calling lava a tad bit warm. So naturally the enraged father summoned the entire board to the school to air his grievances. And as Dumbledore’s deputy, McGonagall’s attendance was mandatory.

“How could you not tell me my son was petrified?”demanded Lord Davies.

“I’m sure Headmaster Dumbledore had his reasons,” said Lady Pindlebrook.

“Indeed, I did,” answered Dumbledore. “We at Hogwarts take attacks on students very seriously and are in the middle of a thorough investigation into the matter. I feared that if word got out too soon, that it would hamper it.”

“And have you found anything yet?” questioned Lord Edgecombe.

McGonagall went to reply, but Dumbledore beat her to it. “We have not reached a conclusion yet, but we have reason to suspect that this was merely a tragic accident.”

McGonagall’s head snapped towards Dumbledore, ready to debunk him, but she held her tongue. An accident? Does he really expect the Board of Governors to buy such a blatant lie?

She looked around the meeting room and found that a decent amount of the board looked satisfied with Dumbledore’s answer. Naturally, Lord Davies was not amongst them.

“My son’s a good kid! He’s not some reckless fool.”

A few of the board members nodded their heads in agreement.

“May I remind the board that Mr. Davies was out after curfew,” stated Dumbledore. 

Those same board members, plus a few others, hummed in agreement. Lord Davies, meanwhile, sunk back into his chair, his outrage replaced with a look of embarrassment.

“So what’s happened to the boy?” asked Lord Blishwick. “Was he sent to St. Mungo’s?”

Dumbledore sent a look to McGonagall indicating she should answer the question. “Mr. Davies is currently in the care of Madam Pomphrey and is expected to make a full recovery.”

“So the school has mature mandrakes?” asked Lord Davies with a hopeful tone.

Dumbledore frowned. “Professor Sprout has a healthy supply of mandrakes in her greenhouses, but they are not yet mature. Once they have, though, Mr. Davies shall be up and about once more.”

“That will potentially take months!” shouted Lord Davies. “My Roger can’t afford to miss that much of school.”

“So just by mature mandrakes,” said Lucius Malfoy.

“Lord Malfoy is right,” said Lord Murk. “The school should just buy mature mandrakes and get Lord Davies’ son back to class.”

“Unfortunately, school funds are rather tight at the moment,” said Dumbledore.

Most of the board members frowned at that like it was Dumbledore’s fault the budget was tight. 

  Hypocrites, McGonagall thought.

“What about trying muggle treatments?” suggested Lady Pindlebrook. “They’ve appeared to have made a lot of advancements in the last century, so they could easily have something to deal with petrification, and probably for way less money than mandrakes.”

Lady Pindlebrook’s suggestion earned her a room full of laughs. Even Lady Longbottom was laughing. Dumbledore, though, just looked at Lady Pindlebrook with his usual grandfatherly face.

“Are you mad, woman?” said Lord Edgecombe. “The only way to treat petrification is with mandrakes!”

“Then why isn’t the school trying to find a way to buy them?” shouted Lord Davies.

McGonagall couldn’t take anymore of the board’s whining and spoke up. “If the school board had addressed our past budgetary concerns, Hogwarts could easily afford to import mandrakes.” McGonagall scowled at Malfoy as she sat down.

Malfoy just smiled wryly. He didn’t have to say a word thanks to one of his allies speaking up instead.

“We can’t raise more funds without raising tuition,” said Lord Blishwick.

“That or stop letting Mudbloods attend essentially for free,” added Lord Selwyn.

“We can’t exactly send them anywhere else,” stated Lady Diggory. “Unless we want to break the Statute of Secrecy with an outbreak of obscurials, it’s either here or another school, and I don’t think the ministry will be willing to re-establish a school for Muggle-borns anytime soon.”

Everyone looked at Lord Hexsmith.

“What are you looking at me for? Just because my great-great-great aunt felt bad for them doesn’t mean I’m going to follow in her footsteps and establish a school for them. I’d go bankrupt without ministry support!”

“Perhaps if we all contributed some funds we could re-establish Hexsmith Academy for Magic?” said Lord Burke. 

Malfoy scoffed at the idea. “Can we please get back on topic here? The heir to a pureblood house is stuck in the medical wing petrified and I would very much like to know how the faculty plan to prevent another heir from sharing Mr. Davies’ fate!”

“Yes, what are you doing to keep our children safe?” asked Lady Longbottom.

Dumbledore smiled. “You’ll be happy to know that Hogwarts is strengthening our security. Every house entrance shall henceforth be closely guarded by their respective house ghosts. Any student found to leave their dorms after curfew will be reported to their head of house and punished.”

“And what about the thing that petrified Mr. Davies?” asked Lord Edgecombe.

“It was destroyed when Mr. Davies was petrified,” answered Dumbledore.

The board members looked satisfied with Dumbledore’s answer, except Lord Davies, of course. The angry father looked like he wanted to add something, but before he could, Dumbledore spoke up.

“It appears that we’ve answered everything on the subject and I know you all are busy, so let’s adjourn this meeting, shall we?”

“Seconded,” said Lord Malfoy.

“All in favor?”

Everyone but Lord Davies raised their hand.

“Meeting adjourned!” announced Dumbledore. “Thank you for coming and I look forward to our next regularly scheduled meeting.”

McGonagall and the board members filed out of the room. She, however, quickly had to turn around because she realized she left her quill in there. When she got there, though, she found the door now closed and heard talking inside. Pressing her ear against the door, she discovered that Dumbledore and Lord Davies had not left the meeting room.

“Charles, my boy,” said Dumbledore in his grandfatherly tone, “your son is fine I assure you. He is safe and experienced no pain during the attack. Once Professor Sprout has grown your mandrakes, your son will be back to normal.

“My son is here to learn, not be in a bloody coma! He can’t afford to wait for your mandrakes to mature.”

“Ahhh Charles you’re not understanding. It’s for the Greater Good that you do not buy the mandrakes. You see, I’ve found myself in a little game of cat and mouse and in order to save everyone, we need to let him think he’s won for now.”

“What?” There was a pregnant pause. “You’re playing with children’s lives! You’re sick! I won’t allow you to use Roger as some pawn on a chessboard.”

“Imperio.”

McGonagall clenched her fist at the sound of the spell leaving Dumbledore’s wand. She knew Dumbledore was capable of this, but never expected him to actually imperio someone to get his way.

“You will not remember this conversation,” Dumbledore commanded,” nor shall you ever think about purchasing mandrakes on your own. You see no need to needlessly throw away your fortune when Albus Dumbledore has everything under control.” 

The door opened and Lord Davies walked out in a daze, followed by Dumbledore. McGonagall could only glare at her boss for what he had done as the imperio’d lord continued his way home.

“Don’t give me that look, Minerva,” said Dumbledore. “You know as well as I do that if I instantly revived them our attacker would resort to killing our students.”

“Then why don’t we call in the aurors to deal with this threat?”

Dumbledore shook his head. “If it’s who I think it is, bringing in the aurors would be condemning them and the school to death. Now, if you need me, I’ll be in my office.”

As Dumbledore started to walk away, McGonagall spoke up. "I just hope your actions don’t get anyone killed, Albus.”

Dumbledore turned around. “No one shall have to die for the Greater Good. Not this time.”

Chapter Text

Defense Against the Dark Arts was without a doubt Ginny’s least favorite class. While Snape was a greasy git who had a weird obsession with tormenting Gryffindors, at least he actually taught the class subject. Ever since the pixie incident in Harry’s year, Lockhart spent the entirety of his classes reading passages from his books to the class, sometimes having the students reenact scenes from said books like they were at the Wizarding Academy of Dramatic Arts. If it wasn’t for Tom’s supplementary lessons every week, Ginny would have been at risk of needing remedial first-year DADA over the summer, not that her parents could afford it, though.

The worst part, though, was how all the other girls in her class were infatuated with their professor. It was utterly baffling what exactly made them crush over someone so fake. Was Ginny the only one who saw how everything about him was artificial? Someone as storied as the protagonist of Lockhart’s books would have been able to handle a few Cornish pixies and actually teach them useful magic. Adding that on top of how much the man spent on grooming and his wardrobe, there was no better word to describe Gilderoy Lockhart than “fake.”

Despite her dislike of the man, Ginny still had to pass Lockhart’s class, and that included attending. The one time Ginny had skipped, Professor Lockhart cornered her after dinner that day and threatened to give her detention with him and tell her mother about it. So, Ginny took the bare minimum of notes to pass Lockhart’s class.

Today, however, Ginny had to take a different approach. Tom needed to get a book in the restricted section of the library and, according to him, Lockhart would just sign anything in front of him without a second thought… for an adoring fan. So, she fought back the tiredness she had faced almost every day this week and pretended to look somewhat interested in what Lockhart had to say, even asking a few questions during class. Lockhart seemed impressed, as instead of frowning at Ginny, he glanced her way and flashed her one of his iconic smiles a few times during class.

Then, to Ginny’s relief, the bell rang and finally brought class to an end. Lockhart looked right at her, then sprang from his desk to get the class’s attention.

“Your Homework: compose a poem about my triumph against the poachers! Signed copies of Magical Me to the author of the best one!”

The class began to leave. Ginny would normally have been the first one out the door, but not today she remained in her seat until she was one of the last people in the room. At that point, she approached the so-called ‘teacher’ standing by his desk.

“Professor Lockhart,” said Ginny, holding out the prefilled note, “I wanted to check out this book from the library. An older student suggested that it would help me better understand Break With a Banshee , but the thing is that it’s in the restricted section. Could you please sign this note so I can access it?”

“I’m glad to see you taking this class seriously, Miss Weasley,” said Lockhart warmly as he took hold of the note and sat it on his desk, “even if you need some supplemental material to understand my masterpieces. I’m sure nobody will mind me helping a student reach her true potential.”

He scrawled an enormous loopy signature on the note and handed it back to Ginny.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” Lockhart said in a slightly predatory tone.

“Nope. See you next class, professor!” 

Ginny bolted from the classroom and ran into Georgina at the end of the hall. “So have you finally come around on Professor Lockhart?” asked Georgina

“Of course not,” replied Ginny. “I just needed something from him for a friend.”

“ Suuuuure ,” said Georgina. “Just don’t let me find whatever that is under your pillow and covered in lipstick.”

“Eww. Can we not talk about it anymore?”

“Fine, spoilsport,” said Georgina.

The duo started walking towards their next class, Ginny trailing behind Georgina, which was unusual. Usually Ginny had to slow down for her Muggle-born friend to catch up, yet now the opposite was true. Halfway to their destination, Georgina stopped and waited for Ginny to catch up.

“Have you been getting enough sleep?” Georgina asked concerned.

“Yeah, I-” Ginny paused to yawn. “I get plenty of sleep. Why do you ask?”

Georgina gestured towards Ginny’s body. “Have you not taken a look in a mirror lately? You struggle to stay awake in our afternoon classes and your eyes have more bags than the Louis Vuitton store.”

“Lockhart’s class is just boring, nothing more. All that man does is talk about how great he is and have us reenact his greatest tall tales like we’re in a theater class. If our professors and my mum wouldn’t punish me for it, I’d have stopped attending that class weeks ago.”

“That doesn’t explain why you nearly passed out in Professor Sprout’s class on Monday”

“Well that was just one night,” Ginny lied. “I was scared out of my mind that the heir would come for me or one of my brothers next.”

“Oh no!” Georgina trapped Ginny in a hug. “I’m sorry you were afraid about that. If anyone here is going to be next, it’s more likely going to be me.”

“Don’t say that!”

“It’s clear he’s after people like me and you’re way better at casting defensive spells. If it wasn’t for your dislike of Professor Lockhart, you’d probably be the top student in our year.”

Ginny blushed. Tom’s teachings have really paid off.

“That still doesn’t mean you’re next, though. The professors are probably close to catching him as we speak.”

“You’re right,” said Georgina. “There’s no way Headmaster Dumbledore would let another student get attacked. If this causes you to lose any more sleep, feel free to tell me. I know of a lovely herbal tea to help you sleep.” At that moment, the girl squeezed her legs together. “Hey, can you save me a seat in class? I need to powder my nose.”

“Yeah, I can do that.”

“Thanks!” Georgina ran off towards the restroom while Ginny continued her way towards Herbology class.

While walking, curiosity got the better of her and Ginny looked at the note to see what book Tom was after.

The Beginner’s Guide to Alchemy? Why would Tom want that?

Several days later, Hunter walked into the library, note in hand. Approaching the irritable librarian, he thought back on why he resorted to using the restricted section to learn alchemy.

Was this a risky method to learn alchemy? Yes, it was. But it was also his only option to find one before the end of the millennium. The only book on alchemy he had found was Advanced Alchemical Rituals, which came with his bag. As its title suggested, the book contained advanced alchemy. In fact, it was so complex that Hunter had a tough time discerning any of the knowledge held within. Sure, there were chests potentially filled with an entire library’s worth of books in the Scriptorium, but they were all locked behind magic only Harry Potter could dispel. The bookshelves turned up nothing, either. That left only one option available. Skimming through Voldemort’s memories of fifth year revealed a conversation between him and an older Slytherin where the latter revealed that they were taking Dumbledore’s class on alchemy. During that brief interaction, the older student mentioned the name of the book he was required to read - The Beginner’s Guide to Alchemy - and that, to Hunter’s disappointment, it was in the restricted section.

So, here Hunter was wordlessly showing the school librarian the signed note granting him access to the aforementioned alchemy textbook.

“ The Beginner’s Guide to Alchemy ?” Madam Pince questioned as she eyed Hunter. “Why would a first-year need a book like that?”

Hunter had prepared for this exact scenario - if Madam Pince was suspicious, then he would tell her that Lockhart insisted he read the book and subtly act imperio’d to eventually frame the fraud.

“Professor Lockhart insisted I read the book for class,” said Hunter monotonously, handing Madam Pince the note in a mechanical way.

Madam Pince held the note up to the light, as though determined to detect a forgery, but it passed the test. She walked away between the lofty shelves and returned several minutes later carrying a large and thin book. Hunter carefully placed it in his bag and left.

Five minutes later, Hunter had barricaded himself in the Chamber of Secrets. Theresa had been put to sleep, for now. The last thing Hunted wanted was a repeat of Halloween. Sitting in the ransacked library, he pulled out the burgundy-colored book, and started reading.

Chapter I: What Is Alchemy?

Alchemy at its core level is realizing the potential of an object in its permanence. The core principle of both transfiguration and alchemy is that everything be it a human, insect or even the rocks under your feet have an essence. This essence knows what it should be and attempts to alter this purpose through magic is the foundation of these disciplines.

The major difference between the two disciplines is in how they go about these changes. Transfiguration is the easier of the two; it merely requires the caster to  force their will onto an object to change its physical form. However, the essence of what the object is remains untouched. It is this untouched essence which limits transfiguration. One can conjure things that look like food or appear to be living, but at the fundamental level they are still the air or rock they were transfigured from and will eventually return to the physical state aligning with its essence. Alchemy is radically different, as it is the manipulation of the very essence of an object as well as its physical properties. For an alchemist, converting stone into food isn’t about imposing their will onto the physical world. An alchemist must go beyond the physical and perform a careful balancing act with the very essence, or soul, metamorphosing it into something new. And in order to accomplish this, an alchemist must look beyond into the soul. 

Hunter groaned. Alchemy was about souls? What nonsense. How did that have anything to do with the supposedly scientific discipline as it was ordinarily portrayed?

Hunter got back to reading. The rest of chapter 1 went over more of the practical abilities of alchemy, which, in addition to the transmutation of substances, included transferring properties of one substance to another. For example, one could take glass and add to it the toughness of stone, or add the elasticity of rubber to stone walls. Then came chapter 2.

Chapter II: Knowing the Soul

To practice alchemy, one’s own soul must be aligned with his or her body. Those whose soul and body are in conflict with one another have blocked mana paths from disharmony, making them unsuitable catalysts. In recent centuries, alchemists have discovered artificial catalysts, but none are powerful enough for anything beyond the most basic of alchemical reactions.

Well, my soul’s just fine, Hunter thought confidently

Hunter skimmed the rest of chapter 2, hoping it would provide more useful knowledge. Alas, the rest of the chapter was nothing but metaphoric language about the soul. So, Hunter was left to make an educated guess and assume that to transmute something he had to have a deep understanding of the desired transmutation. 

Hopefully chapter 3 has more clear answers, Hunter thought as he turned the page to chapter 3.  

Chapters 3 and 4 went over the inner workings of alchemical reactions. Turns out all alchemical reactions were done using matrices and circles with intricate symbols placed at geometrically significant points in and on the edge of said circle. Circles were made from a variety of substances from the mundanity of chalk to the borderline-dark blood sacrifice. Most important, though, was the law of equivalent exchange. For every transmutation, an equal amount of energy or mass had to be consumed by the ritual.

So, basically just the law of conservation of mass mixed with the phrasing from Fullmetal Alchemist’s lore, thought Hunter.

Reading on, Hunter learned that rituals are activated with one or more catalysts, with the more complicated rituals being the ones requiring a second or third catalyst. The most common catalyst was an alchemist’s own magic. They would simply place their hands onto the circle and literally pour their magic into it. The book did warn, though, not to keep one’s hands on it too long or else it could either drain all of an alchemist’s magic, or overload them with magic, depending on the reaction.

Hunter’s eyes lit up as he read the title of chapter 5: An Alchemist’s First Ritual. The second page contained a simple diagram of a circle with an inlaid equilateral triangle with smaller circles at each of the vertices as well as in the very center of the matrix. Each vertex circle also had a line connecting them to the one at the very center while all the smaller circles had a unique symbol in them. According to the text, each vertex represented one of the three primes of the universe - the body, spirit, and soul. Meanwhile, the circle in the center had a dual symbol for water and solid. It turns out that this ritual was for crystalizing water vapor found in the air.

So this makes ice? Hunter thought, slightly disappointed. He was hoping for something more out there, but beggars can’t be choosers. 

Hunter pulled out a stick of chalk from the potions kit in his bag and got to work drawing the diagram on the floor below. Once finished, Hunter kneeled on the floor and placed his hands on the circle.

Now, how do I push magic into the circle?

Hunter closed his eyes and centered himself, focusing on any potential indicator of magic. He quickly found something that when mentally tugged on sent shivers through him and reminded him of the first time he cast magic.

Bingo, Hunter thought.

Hunter pooled the magic into his fingers then felt as it was pulled out of him. Unfortunately, the circle did nothing and he even felt most of the magic flow back into him.

Hunter sat there, confused. Do I need to use my wand?

Hunter shot magic at the circle with his wand. While the circle did slightly illuminate, none of the water vapor materialized into crystal. Hunter, however, was not one to give up that easily. He tried again and again, alternating between his hands and wand, each failed ritual draining more and more of his energy. Yet there was no reaction from the circle. Eventually, he was on the verge of exhaustion and was forced to stop lest he permanently damage Ginny’s body.

Hunter walked out of the Chamber in a daze, forgetting to grab his bag on the way out. Luckily, it was impossible for anyone besides him to go down there, so it would be safe.

What did I do wrong? Hunter lamented as he exited Myrtle’s bathroom. Did I make the circle too small? Too big?

He was so focused on his failures that he failed to hear the footsteps behind him. All he caught before blacking out was the man casting “Stupefy!”

Chapter Text

Hunter woke up sometime later and found himself poorly tied up in a hard wooden chair. He looked around and quickly found where he was - who else would hang portraits of Gilderoy Lockhart and sit at a desk looking menacingly at Hunter than Lockhart himself?

“Well, well, well, look who decided to wake up,” said Lockhart. “I hope you’re not thinking of escaping, I already have your wand.” Lockhart held up a wand for Hunter to see, and it took almost all his will power to not sigh in relief, for the wand Lockhart held in his hand was not his own, but Ginny’s. Squirming around a bit confirmed that Lockhart had taken only Ginny’s wand. 

Lockhart looked at him confused, as if expecting something. “Already realize how futile it is to scream for help, Miss Weasley? Well, you’re right! I already locked the door and I soundproofed this office the day I moved in!”

“That doesn’t explain why you kidnapped me!” said Hunter, frustrated. 

Lockhart flashed a predatory grin. “I think we both know why you’re here, Heir of Slytherin.”

Hunter paled. “Y-you think I’m Slytherin’s Heir? I’m just a first-year.”

“There’s no need to lie, Miss Weasley,” said Lockhart. “I’ve had my suspicions ever since you were the first to show up to Argus Filch’s petrified body. That Potter boy and his coattail riders have a knack for showing up to danger, but never cause it. You, on the other hand, had no reason to be there so soon. Of course, I had no proof, so I conducted some old-fashioned sleuthing. I thought this year would be a nice break from that, but I guess fate had other plans for the great Gilderoy Lockhart.

I found out you are quite the talented student, knowing spells that no first-year should know. Spells that could easily be used to subdue Miss Haywood and Mr. Davies. However, I was missing one final piece, one to solidly paint you as the perpetrator, and Mr. Potter had just that. According to him, and backed up by Miss Granger and your brother, you left the deathday party long before they did, which was more than enough time to petrify Filch and write that threatening message.”

Hunter looked at Lockhart, dumbfounded as he subtly loosened the ropes around him. Was I really so careless that Lockhart of all people found me out? 

“Of course, I wiped their memories of my interrogation,” continued Lockhart. “I couldn’t have them running off to Dumbledore, after all. That man would have swept this under the rug just like he did his relationship with Grindelwald. In fact, it’s because he wants this swept under the rug that you’re not currently rotting in Azkaban. But I won’t allow that. Once I get your confession it’ll be off to Azkaban for you and the unemployment line for Dumbledore. That’ll show him for not letting me take alchemy!”

“I’m not going to confess to a crime I didn’t commit!” replied Hunter.

“Don’t worry, I have ways to make you talk.” Lockhart stood up, walked to the cabinet behind his desk, and started rummaging through it. “Now, where did I put that veritaserum?” 

Seeing his opportunity, Hunter sprang into action. With one final shove of his shoulders, the ropes holding him in the chair fell to the floor. He grabbed his wand, pointed it at the distracted Lockhart, and quietly cast: “Stupefy!”

The professor fell over, but not before hitting his head on one of the cabinet shelves. Hunter sauntered over to the fallen professor, grabbed his wand, hauled him into his chair, then cast Incarcerous on the passed out fraud.

He almost revived Lockhart then and there, but then Hunter remembered he wasn’t an idiot, so frisked Lockhart for any tools he could use. As suspected, Lockhart had nothing else on him.

Satisfied he was safe, Hunter stepped back, aimed his own wand at 

Lockhart looked around frantically, his wide eyes quickly settling on Hunter. “How did you defeat me?”

Hunter channeled his inner villain and spoke. “For someone as experienced as you claim to be, you sure are dumb. I mean, really, who doesn’t check a downed foe for a second wand? Of course, we both know why - you’re just a one-trick conman more dependent on the Obliviate spell than a fish is on water.”

Speaking of fish and water, Hunter’s statement left Lockhart looking like a fish out of water.

“N-Now, Miss Weasley,” Lockhart said, stuttering, “we shouldn't be thr-throwing around such cr-crazy accusations.”

Hunter laughed at Lockhart’s denial. “Are you seriously trying to deny it right now? Usually the last thing one should do when held captive is lie to their captor.”

Lockhart looked around, scared. “I-is this some kind of sting operation? Are the aurors waiting outside to arrest me?” His scared look turned to one of defiance. “If so, then I’m afraid I’ve got some bad new for you, girly. You. Have. NO PROOF!”

Hunter got annoyed at Lockhart’s stubbornness. Then, an idea came to his head. Without a second thought, Hunter used Lockhart’s wand to cast the Cruciatus curse on the bound man.

Lockhart screamed and writhed in his chair and something about that made Hunter smile. He kept the spell going until the tied-up fraudster looked like he was on the verge of passing out.

“Alright, I admit it! I obliviate people and plagiarize their adventures as my own!” Lockhart broke down sobbing. “I-I didn’t mean to, at first. It just happened and everyone thought I had done the deed and cheered my name. I let the fame and glory get to my hea-”

“Quit with the sob story,” said Hunter. “I’m not here to turn you in. In fact, I’ll forget about it and your assaulting me on one condition - teach me the obliviate spell.”

“Of course, of course I will!” he said, nodding. “If you untie me and hand me my wand, I could surely tea-”

“Oh, don’t worry, you’ll get your wand back shortly,” Hunter beamed at him. “I just need to do one little thing first.”

Hunter aimed Lockhart’s wand at his chest.

“Wh-what are you doing?”

“Have you ever heard of the Imperius curse, Gilderoy?”

“Please, no! Not that! Anything but that! I won’t tell anyone, I swear!”

“That was my original plan, you know? I was going to come to you, ask for some help learning the Obliviate spell, and force you into an unbreakable vow to keep it all under wraps. But after tonight, I just can’t trust you to keep such a promise. Enjoy being my thrall.”

Of course, Hunter failed to mention that Lockhart would have been obliviated after he was done using the fraudster.

Lockhart struggled against the ropes in vain. “No! You can’t do this to me!”

“Imperio!” Hunter said as he imagined Lockhart bending to his will, watching every twitch on Lockhart’s face as the professor tried in vain to fight the curse. The struggle wasn’t long, and soon thereafter Lockhart sat there still, his gaze as dull as a rock.

Hunter freed Lockhart from his bindings and commanded him. “Now, then. I’ll need you to write me a note for being out past curfew. Say you were helping me catch up. Now.” 

Lockhart grabbed a blank piece of parchment and wrote the note.

“And Ginny’s wand. I’ll need that, too.”

Lockhart grabbed Ginny’s wand off his desk and handed it and the note to Hunter. Hunter then wordlessly put said wand away beneath Ginny's robes.

“Of course, this should go without saying, but you won’t inform a soul about our dealings from now on. And you’ll destroy all evidence you have against me. Is that clear?”

Lockhart was twitching, obviously trying to fight the curse. Hunter couldn’t have that, so he went with Plan B.

“Obey me and I’ll reward you with the story of your career. And all you'll have to do is play along with my plans. No obliviating accomplished wizards required.”

That stopped Lockhart’s resistance, who then stood there with a goofy smile on his face.

“So, whenever I tell you the phrase ‘Siddartha,’ you will go back into this trance-like state and follow my every command until I dismiss you. Otherwise, you are to act naturally, except for Ginny Weasley. You will instead remember that your investigation proved she was not the heir. Is that clear?”

“Yes, mistress,” droned Lockhart.

“Excellent.” Hunter started to leave, but turned around at the last second. “Before I go, there’s one more thing I need you to do. Your portraits. Destroy them all, including any hidden ones they could flee to. Then you’re dismissed.”

Lockhart wordlessly complied, tearing each of his portraits to shreds with spells and his own hands. The portraits screamed and begged for their master to stop, but he didn’t listen.

Hunter laughed at the portraits’ lament as he left Lockhart’s office. It was only as he was on the verge of falling asleep in Ginny's bed that he thought of it and felt horrified at his actions.

Did I seriously enjoy seeing Lockhart’s portraits suffer? For that matter, why did I crucio him and enjoy it? I mean, sure, he’s a fraudster and got his comeuppance, but I wasn’t going to resort to that. Did I get too much into character? 

Chapter Text

The last thing Hunter wanted was to be anywhere near the trouble magnets known as the Golden Trio. He’d already had Ginny scale back her interactions with Georgina after she grew suspicious of her friend’s behavior the first time Hunter got back from his 1-hour weekly session with Lockhart. If Georgina, someone who had only known Ginny for a few months, could see through Hunter’s act, then he stood no chance of fooling her brother and his two friends. Yet, that’s exactly what happened on the second Saturday of December. 

Hunter planned to go down to the Chamber for a quiet evening of practicing alchemy, which was also all he could really do to advance his knowledge after having absorbed the rest of Tom Riddle’s knowledge of magic, but that went out the window the moment he heard the sound of people in Myrtle’s bathroom. Hunter drew his wand and charged in prepared to stun the intruders, but instead found Harry, Ron, and Hermione huddled around one of the bathroom stalls. While he had encountered Hermione before, this was the first time Hunter had seen Harry and Ron in the flesh. Harry had a rounder, softer face than Radcliffe and also had the iconic green eyes he was lacking in the films. Ron, meanwhile, was easily the tallest one of the trio and had prominent cheekbones with a shorter, more managed haircut than Rupert Gint’s portrayal of him.

The trio were quick to action, drawing their own wands and standing in front of the stall, dropping their wands upon seeing who had interrupted them. A brief glance at the gap in between Harry and Ron revealed said thing to be a cauldron. Hunter quickly figured out what it was they were hiding - the infamous Polyjuice Potion they used to sneak into Slytherin Dungeon on Christmas. 

Hunter mentally facepalmed. How did I forget about this? They’ve probably been brewing this since the start of November. 

“Uhh Ginny, why are you pointing your wand at us?” questioned Harry.

“And why are you holding your wand with your left hand?” added Ron.

Hunter quickly put his wand in his right hand, making sure to keep it pointed at the trio. “Why are you boys in the girls’ restroom?”

Harry slightly winced at Hunter’s retort. Hunter couldn’t tell if it was shame from being caught in a place he wasn’t allowed or pain from being called a boy, but Hunter quickly dismissed the latter option. There was no way Harry was trans, right?

“It’s none of your business why we’re here,” said Ron. “It’s not like we’re perving on girls or something!”

Hunter tensed up and blushed. For some reason, Ron’s words filled him with a feeling of being fundamentally dirty, as if he was somehow a total slimeball of a human being. The more that feeling lingered, a picture formed in Hunter’s mind of a theater, a group of girls and one boy. Disgust towards himself filled his head as the image started to expand in detail, starting with the boy turning into a younger Hunter.

Tears fell down Hunter’s cheeks. Oh God oh God oh God I’m a monster a scumbag a per-

He was snapped out of that horrible feeling by a warm hug, which turned out to be Ron having run over to comfort him.

“It’s okay,” said Ron reassuringly as he patted Hunter’s back. “I’m sorry for suggesting I’d ever do something like that. We’re not doing anything as bad as that.”

Hunter giggled. “I’m glad I don’t have to tell Mum you’re a degenerate. What exactly are you doing here, though.”

“Harry and Ron are helping me brew a potion,” said Hermione.

“Really?” Hunter asked, trying his best to sound dumbfounded.

“Yeah,” said Harry. “We’re brewing up an advanced potion so we can sneak into Slytherin Dungeon and prove that Draco Malfoy is the Heir of Slytherin.”

Hunter started laughing. “Good one!” He continued to laugh, even as the trio remained silent.

“We’re being serious here!” said Hermione, incensed, after which Hunter chose to stop laughing.

Hunter’s smile fell. “You seriously think he’s the Heir?”

“Who else could it be?” said Ron.

“Ever since I’ve met him on the Hogwarts Express he’s boasted nonstop about how his family has been in Slytherin for generations and that Muggle-borns are trash,” said Harry. “If there’s anyone most likely to be the Heir, it’s Malfoy.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if everyone in Slytherin already knew,” said Ron. “That git boasts as much as he breathes.”

“And that’s why I know he’s not the Heir of Slytherin,” said Hunter. “A few weeks ago I caught Malfoy and some of his goons talking in the hallway, alone. When one of them accused him of being the heir, Malfoy threatened to drown him in the Black Lake. If he wouldn’t admit it to his associates, then there’s no way he’s the heir.”

“She’s right,” said Hermione, looking bummed. 

“I guess that means we don’t need the Polyjuice Potion,” said Ron. “What a shame. We were almost done brewing it.”

“It doesn’t have to go to waste,” said Hunter. “There are other uses for it. For example, you could all change into each other for a bit. See what things are like from a different perspective.”

“Yeah,” said Harry somewhat excitedly. “We could even do it on Christmas. We’re all staying over break and don’t have anything planned now.”

“Two of us would have to change genders, though,” said Hermione.

“Don’t look at me!” said Ron. “I’m just fine being a boy.”

“Or you could all change genders,” suggested Hunter. “Harry and Ron can both be Hermione while she can be whichever one of you she chooses.”

“That sounds like a great idea! Thank you, Ginny!”

“Thanks,” said Hermione and Ron less enthusiastically. 

“Glad that’s settled, but could you all please leave?” asked Hunter. “I came in here to, you know, use the restroom.”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione blushed and swiftly exited the restroom.

That should keep them off my tail , thought Hunter. That reminds me, though, I need to make sure Ginny isn’t going home for Christmas.

Ginny was glad that first-year Gryffindors had Friday afternoons free. She didn’t think she could take any more stress from classes. Instead of having his students spend the last class before finals reviewing for the exam, Snape treated his last class of the year like any other, even assigning homework over the weekend. If he was this bad before finals, then Ginny could only imagine the horrors that awaited her on the exam. It was only thanks to Tom that she was doing well in the class. Apparently he’d had a much better teacher named Slughorn. From the way Tom talked about him, Slughorn seemed like one of the best professors the school ever had.

I already feel kinda sluggish, a wave of exhaustion. Maybe if I had Slughorn, I wouldn’t feel tired after potions, thought Ginny. 

She’d had random bouts of malaise since the middle of November, usually at random times throughout the day. However it was always present after her double potions class. Since it had only started as the temperatures dropped, Ginny could only assume that the temperature was to blame for her sluggishness.

Ginny was one of the first few students back to Gryffindor Tower that day, meaning she had her choice of chairs in the common room. She made her way to her favorite spot, a table near the fireplace, and got out her list of homework for the weekend. Reading what Snape had assigned, Ginny realized that he had assigned a particularly tough essay.

Looks like that nap will have to wait. I need to see what I need to get from the library.

So, Ginny forced herself to stay wide awake, tuned out the world around her, and got to work, slowly but writing down notes on what she did know about the subject. A few other people tried to catch her attention, but they were completely ignored, like they didn’t exist. Her eyes remained glued to her books and parchment until her head started hurting. Luckily for her, it was at this time that Harry, Ron and Hermione returned from their last class of the day. 

“Oh! H-hey, Harry.”

Harry just ignored her and trudged up the stairs to his room. 

“Is Harry alright?” asked Ginny.

Ron looked at her, flabbergasted. “Are you seriously asking that? Of course he’s not okay! Everyone’s been giving him talking behind his back about how he’s the Heir of Slytherin just because he can talk to snakes. And to top it off, I’ve been shunned just for being friends with him.”

“How did that happen?”

“At the dueling club last night.”

Glad Tom suggested I not go to that , thought Ginny. If only Harry had listened when I said the same.

“Oh, yeah, I wasn’t there. Didn’t feel like it, what with finals coming up and all.”

“You’re lucky you didn’t go,” said Ron. “Professor Dumbledore put flippin Lockhart and Snape in charge of it and it was a disaster. I bet that greasy git would have made you duel Malfoy or Flint if you’d shown up.”

“Instead Harry was forced to duel Malfoy,” said Hermione, sitting down. “He conjured a snake that went right after a Hufflepuff-”

“Because Lockhart’s an incompetent fraud!” interrupted Ron.

“ Professor Lockhart isn’t a fraud,” countered Hermione. “He just made a mistake. People make mistakes all the time.”

“Yeah,” Ron said sarcastically, “the man who keeps trying to accuse Harry of being the Heir of Slytherin definitely didn’t intend to set up a situation that makes Harry look guilty of being said heir. You saw the way he smiled when Snape paired Harry with Malfoy. The man’s probably in daddy Malfoy’s pocket.”

“Professor Lockhart never accused Harry of being the Heir of Slytherin.”

“He did,” answered Ginny timidly. “He also accused me on Halloween and a few days after Harry found Roger Davies.”

Ron wordlessly walked over to his sister and gave her an awkward hug, then sat down in the open seat next to her.

“I’m so sorry he did that to you,” said Hermione.

“It’s fine,” said Ginny. “He hasn’t bothered me since.”

“That’s good,” said Hermione. “Now, Ron, if I heard you correctly, it sounds like you’re accusing Malfoy of being the Heir. I thought we already agreed to rule him out.”

“It just seems too weird to ignore.” Ron turned towards his sister. “Are you sure Malfoy isn’t the Heir? Painting Harry as a dark wizard in the making sure sounds like something he’d do to get us to not think about him and the obvious signs he’s the Heir.”

Ginny looked back at her brother, confused. “Why are you asking me? I don’t know who the heir is.”

Hermione eyed Ginny suspiciously. Ginny’s eyes widened.

Oh no! Did I say something wrong? Oh she’s scowling at me oh I got to wing it!

“W-we shouldn’t talk about that stuff out here! What if someone hears us?” Ginny slightly winced, expecting nobody to buy her lie, but she was luckily proven wrong.

“Ginny’s got a point,” said Ron. “We probably shouldn’t talk about things said in a certain room out here.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” said Hermione. The bushy-haired girl then glanced at Ginny’s half-finished essay. “Were you studying for your final exams? Come on, Ron, we should leave Ginny to her studies.”

She grabbed Ron by the wrist and started walking away.

“It’s homework, actually,” said Ginny, stopping Hermione in her tracks. “Professor Snape assigned us an essay for the weekend. I’m actually done for it, now. If I spent any longer on this, my head would explode.”

“Tell me about it,” said Ron. “What’s the greasy git thinking by assigning students a major assignment right before exams? It’s like he’s trying to make us all fail his class.”

“He gave you guys an assignment for the weekend, too?”

“He gave every year except fifth-years and up an assignment this weekend,” said Hermione. “It shouldn’t be that hard, though.”

“Not that hard?” said Ginny, exacerbated. “He assigned us an essay on the proper safety procedures in a potions lab. We never even covered that in class!”

“It was in the textbook, though,” said Hermione. “We had the same assignment last year and I scored well on it. So did Harry, in fact. Ron, though…”

“It’s not my fault I failed,” said Ron. “We shouldn’t have to learn stuff outside the classroom.”

At that moment, Harry came down the stairs with determination, ending the discussion on Snape’s last assignment for the term.

“Look, guys, I gave it some thought, and I wanna do it. Let’s swap genders!”

“Shhhh!” Ron hissed as Harry approached the table.

“Sorry, Harry,” said Hermione, “we don’t know who else could be listening in on this.”

Harry beamed. “I’m just so excited, though!”

Ron looked at his best friend apprehensively. “I never said I was on board with it though. Neither did Hermione.”

“You were both curious about it on Saturday.”

“We don’t know if there’ll be any side effects of swapping genders,” said Hermione. “It could be risky.”

“Come on,” Harry pleaded. “I really could use something fun after the day I’ve had. There’s no way this rumor will just go away after Christmas.”

“Fine, I’m in,” said Ron.

“Me, too,” said Hermione. “I’ll just make sure there aren’t any risks, first.”

“Thanks, guys!” Harry smiled and turned to Ginny. “Thanks for the suggestion, Ginny. You may have single handedly made my Christmas.”

“Uhh… you’re welcome?”

Hermione eyed Ginny again, then turned her gaze towards Harry and Ron. “We should probably get started on our potions assignment.”

Before it could get any more awkward, Ginny discreetly gathered her things and snuck off to her room while Ron argued for doing their homework the next day. Once she made it to her room, the exhaustion she had held back all day caught up with her. Collapsing onto her bed, Ginny thought: I really need to get better sleep.

Chapter Text

Ever since Ginny had last written to him, Hunter was incensed. Despite his best efforts to save Harry from becoming a social pariah, the foolish boy ignored his warnings and went to the dueling club anyway. Now the whole school knew he was a Parselmouth and suspected him to be the Heir of Slytherin. Every time Hunter tried to help Harry avoid the pitfalls of canon, things still went wrong for the Boy-Who-Lived. Well, except for dealing with Dobby before the quidditch match. Still, hearing Harry become a laughing stock set Hunter off in a personal way, like he had seen someone become a social pariah in the past. Luckily, it just so happened Hunter had a way to get people’s attention away from the Boy-Who-Lived.

So, instead of spending the entirety of his allotted time studying alchemy, he was hidden in an abandoned classroom scouting out targets on the Marauder’s Map. Hunter had also chosen to forego his Owl House outfit this evening. If he got caught behind a student, seeing Ginny Weasley would be a lot less alarming than some random person in a white cloak. Hunter looked down at the map and saw his first target closing in on his position. So, he waited for the target to pass his position. Once that happened, Hunter quickly put away the map and tailed the student. 

Hunter stalked his target as he walked down the long hallway, his footsteps not making a single noise. Finally, when the target passed an easy escape route, Hunter stuck. He pulled out his wand and cast a spell in Parseltongue. A yellowish brown light burst from the tip of his wand and struck his target right in the back. Before Cormac McLaggen even realized what had happened, Hunter bolted down the other hallway.

Hunter kept running until he reached the staircase at the end of the hall, almost out of breath. He once again opened the Marauder’s Map, this time looking for the only other person he wanted to prank. Hunter quickly found them and was met with slight irritation when he saw they were around other people.

Looks like I’m doing things out of order, then, Hunter thought. He mentally noted where the nearest loner was, put away the map, and ascended the stairs.

Hunter’s second target was some random Ravenclaw, if her tie was anything to go by. She was unceremoniously zapped in the back with the same spell as Hunter continued up the staircase. This time, though, he was able to hear the reaction to his spell - the poor Ravenclaw’s scream in Parseltongue was loud enough to reach into the stairwell. A part of Hunter wanted to laugh, but that thought was quickly dispelled. It’s not like he enjoyed this task.

The next three targets were also those unfortunate enough to be near Hunter’s position and without anyone else nearby. Hunter, however, cared even less about them than the first random target; he didn’t bother to see the color of their ties, their genders, or how old they appeared to be. It was just a clinical strike.

Finally, Hunter came across his last target, who was finally without his goons. It made the extra task Hunter had for this last target all the easier. Once he was at the entrance to the Owlery, Hunter stood slightly off to the side and kept his eyes glued to the Marauder’s Map, carefully tracking the dot representing one Draco Malfoy. When the second-year Slytherin finished his business and started descending the stairs, Hunter put away his map, grabbed his wand, and stepped right in front of the entrance right as Malfoy’s foot hit the bottom step.

“Get out of the way, weas-” Malfoy demanded.

“Imperio!” Hunter cast the spell and hit Malfoy in the chest, leaving the boy with a vacant look and a green haze in his eyes.

Satisfied the spell had taken hold, Hunter pulled a letter out from his cloak. “You are going to take this letter and mail it to your father. Once the post owl has left, you will forget encountering me and be free from my control. Is that clear?” 

“Yes, milady,” answered Malfoy, causing Hunter to slightly blush.

Malfoy took the letter and walked back to the owlery. As his back turned to Hunter, Hunter quickly cast the Parselmouth spell on his temporary thrall, then walked away.

Why did he call me “milady?” thought Hunter. Oh yeah, I look like Ginny because I didn’t put on the cloak and mask tonight. It doesn’t explain why I blushed, though.

Hunter shrugged his shoulders and put that thought aside. He didn’t have time to waste pondering such deep questions. He thought he was alone and could continue on his way, but he had foolishly put the map away right before attacking Malfoy. So, Hunter was completely surprised when he bumped right into Georgina Blume.

Georgina stepped back and looked at Hunter with apprehension. “Who are you? Were you hissing like a snake?"

Hunter responded by tensing up.

"You're not the Heir of Slytherin, are you?" Georgina giggled dismissively. "Nah, there's no way someone like me would catch him."

Hunter remained silent and was sheepishly grinning under his mask.

Georgina's smile fell in an instant. "Oh my God. You are the Heir of Slytherin!"

Before she could scream or run, Hunter whipped out his wand and cast: “Obliviate!”

Georgina’s eyes glazed over and she collapsed to the ground. Hunter ran out of there before she got back up.

As he entered Myrtle’s bathroom to take off the white cloak and mask, a thought popped up in Hunter’s head - worry for Georgina.

I hope I didn’t erase too much of her memory. It should be fine, right?

Hunter walked into the library and was met with absolute silence. Nobody else was present, not even Madam Pince. So, Hunter invited himself in and perused the shelves for any reference to alchemy. He didn’t get far before remembering that the book he read had come from the Restricted Section.

Hunter made his way to the back of the library and found that he did not, in fact, have the library to himself. Standing at the entrance to the Restricted Section were Hermione and Madam Pince, the latter of whom was holding a large, mold-splotched book.

He took cover behind a nearby bookshelf and observed the two blocking his path forward. Madam Pince thoroughly examined the book one page at a time. Hermione stood there looking nervous. Once she had finished her inspection, Madam Pince did something Hunter thought he’d never see the grumpy librarian do - smile. Relief washed over Hermione as Madam Pince wordlessly carried the book into the Restricted Section.

Hermione then walked away from the area, giving Hunter the perfect opportunity to sneak in. He crept out from behind the bookcase and tiptoed to the opened entrance to the Restricted section. 

It should have been a piece of cake entering the Restricted Section. Alas, Hunter forgot one important detail - casting the Disillusionment Charm on himself. One moment Hermione was walking towards one of the tables, and the next she turned around and said “Hey, Ginny.”

Madam Pince must’ve heard Hermione, too, as she quickly exited the Restricted Section, potentially ready to scold Hermione for being too loud. However, Madam Pince’s focus quickly shifted to Hunter himself, her harsh gaze piercing his very soul.

“I see you haven’t brought back the book, Miss Weasley,” said Madam Pince. “Don’t forget it’s due before the end of the day Tuesday. And I better not find a single smudge on it, either! Just because Mr. Filch is out of commission doesn’t mean you’re safe from proper discipline.”

Hunter shuddered and slowly walked away from the stern librarian.

Note to self: remind Ginny to return the alchemy book on Monday.

He failed to remember that Hermione was also there. That didn’t help when she lightly grabbed him by the shoulder and stopped him in his tracks.

“Do you still need help studying?” asked Hermione as she turned Hunter around to face her.

It doesn’t look like she’ll leave me alone. Better just go with her for now.

‘Uhh… sure,” answered Hunter. “It couldn’t hurt to study for finals.”

Hermione led Hunter to a table in the middle of the library with books stacked high and notes spread out. Hermione sat at the end of the table with the notes and motioned for Hunter to sit in the opposite chair.

“Is there any class in particular you’d like to focus on?” Hermione asked.

“History of Magic, I guess.”

“Did Professor Plummly forget to cover a topic he said would be on the final? He did that in our class last Spring. As long as you read the book, you’ll be fine on the exam.”

Hunter’s eyes widened. Binns isn’t the History of Magic Professor?!? Did Artemis have something to do with that?

Curious, Hunter pushed Hermione to explain more. “Don’t you mean Professor Binns?”

“He already talked about his predecessor? Professor Plummly didn’t do that with us until the end of the school year. Anyways, Hogwarts did have a ghost teaching that class until the Deputy Headmistress, Professor Carver, convinced the Board of Governors to exorcise him. Apparently all he did was lecture about the same five Goblin Rebellions to the point that most students used the class as a place to do homework or take naps. I don’t think I would have liked to have him as a professor.”

That all but confirms it. Artemis C. is most likely that Deputy Headmistress.

“You know what? I just realized I am struggling more with Charms. Let’s focus on that!”

“Okay. Can I see your notes?”

Hunter gave Hermione a sheepish smile. “I forgot them.”

Hermione groaned. “How did you expect to study without your notes?”

“I… I was gonna use the books to see what I remembered! I can’t use my notes on the exam, so it’s a good idea to study without them.”

“Then why don’t you have any books?”

“I was getting them before I ran into you. In fact, I’ll go get them now!” Before Hermione had a chance to respond, Hunter had left the table and speed-walked to the nearest bookshelves.

Phew! That was close!

Hunter then quietly cast the Disillusionment Charm on himself and made his way to the back of the library. When he reached the entrance to the Restricted Section, he saw Mrs. Pince standing in front of it with no sign of leaving any time soon.

Hunter took one step towards Madam Pince and her harsh gaze turned to right where he was standing. He internally cursed as he backed into the nearest aisle.

Shit! I gotta get her away from there for a good chunk of time. What to do, what to do?

A brilliant idea came to Hunter’s mind. He dashed down the aisle of bookshelves, pulling out book after book, throwing those onto the floor behind him, then knocking over the rest of the books he missed like dominoes. When he reached the end of the aisle, he ducked into the next aisle and waited. 

Madam Pince took the bait, if the loud footsteps and irritated grunts were anything to go by. This might have been enough to keep her busy, but Hunter found Madam Pince to still be too close to the Restricted Section. So, he grabbed a few books off the shelf, walked out in between the bookcases, and threw them in random directions.

“WHO DARES TO MISTREAT MY BOOKS!” yelled Madam Pince.

Hearing the librarian stomp further away from the Restricted Section, Hunter made his way into the now-deserted Restricted Section. From there, it didn’t take him long to find the alchemy section and grab a book on artificial catalysts. Hunter carefully put the book in his bag and made his way to the exit. However, had an epiphany right as he made it to the exit. If he only took the alchemy book, it wouldn’t take much for Dumbledore to figure out what Hunter was up to. So, he went back and randomly grabbed a few more books from different sections to throw the Headmaster off his trail.

Hunter smirked walking out of the Restricted Section. One step closer to getting out of here.

He then made his way to another abandoned isle, canceled the Disillusionment Charm, left the library, and made his way to the Chamber of Secrets.

Chapter Text

The end of the term brought a last minute storm of snow and chaos. As the snow fell across the land, students’ things fell to the floor as the staff went through everyone’s belongings to look for some books that went missing from the Restricted Section. Anything else found that was contraband earned plenty of students a lovely evening with their professors when they got back from break. Ginny had initially been nervous of McGonagall finding Tom’s things or the Marauder’s Map, but her fears turned out to be unfounded; Tom had placed his bag in the Chamber of Secrets. The only thing of interest that McGonagall found was a black, leather diary. She didn’t even look through it, either. McGonagall just took Ginny’s claim that it was her private diary at face value and handed it back to her without any fanfare.

The last minute search and renewed fear of the Heir of Slytherin spread panic throughout the student body. Students were constantly sending owls all throughout finals to arrange last minute departures for Winter Break. If their tired faces and groans were anything to go by, the professors hated the last minute emptying of Hogwarts. Ginny, however, did not. It gave her and Tom much more freedom to do as they pleased, which served Ginny’s planned gift well. 

Christmas morning soon arrived and brought a thick, bright layer of snow and cold that made the castle chilly throughout. Ginny, who was the only one left in her dorm room, was awoken rather early by Hermione grabbing what she assumed were presents for Harry and Ron and bringing them to the boys’ room. Unable to sleep any longer after that, Ginny dragged herself out of bed, and, to her disappointment, found her presents at the foot of her bed instead of under the Christmas tree in the common room. With a sigh, she opened the small pile of gifts at the foot of her bed.

The first two presents she opened weren’t that exciting, just a pack of her favorite candy from her parents and a pair of earrings from her snobby, old-fashioned aunt Muriel. The latter even came with an equally old-fashioned note about how the earrings would make her look like a “proper woman.” Ginny rolled her eyes at Aunt Muriel’s remarks, then put the note and earrings away in her trunk.

The next present was one she wasn’t expecting. Georgina had gifted her a Muggle book called the Wizard of Oz. Like with Aunt Muriel’s gift, Georgina had also written a note. It simply read:

Ginny,

Like Dorothy in this book, I have felt like I’m in a dream this past semester. Thank you for making this journey all the more magical. I hope you enjoy my favorite story, or at the least get a laugh from how wrong us Muggles got magic.

How sweet, Ginny thought. I wish Tom hadn’t made me distance myself from her.

Ginny carefully placed the note inside her new book and placed it in her trunk. Then, she picked up her last present. 

The widest box wasn’t much of a surprise to Ginny; it was the annual Weasley sweater her mother knit. As was the case every year, this year’s sweater was pastel pink. However, this year’s sweater did contain some unique features. The hem, collar, and cuffs were all a pastel blue rather than the same pink as the body and instead of a large G that would have also been pastel blue there was a solid white pine tree.

Wow! Ginny thought. I never thought Mum would try something new with the sweaters. It looks really good.

Ginny decided to wear her new sweater and got ready for the day. As much as she wanted to go back to sleep, she knew it would be impossible to do so with the sun out.

Despite it being Christmas, Ginny did not feel jolly as she meandered around the empty castle. Christmas was supposed to be a day of spending time with your loved ones and getting gifts. While she did receive gifts, opening them in her room made Ginny’s gifts feel more like receiving mail than a special event. Not to mention that everyone else in Gryffindor Tower was in their own little world. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were nowhere to be seen - the same for Fred and George - and Percy was in “prefect mode” and therefore wasn’t in much of a mood to celebrate the holiday.

With nobody to celebrate with, Ginny left Gryffindor Tower to wander around the castle. She’d be just as lonely, but at least the rest of the castle wouldn’t have the illusion of holiday spirit that the tower’s cozy atmosphere produced. As she left the tower, the word ‘illusion’ clinged to her mind like static, only getting stronger the more Ginny wandered the empty halls. Then, as she ascended the stairs to the fifth floor, it all clicked into place.

The Room of Requirement! thought Ginny. I can make it whatever I want. Maybe that will make this day better?

Ginny made her way to the Room of Requirement with excitement in her heart and determination in her step. However, when she arrived at what should have been a blank wall, she found a simple wooden door that looked almost too modern to naturally be there staring back at her. At first, she was confused. Ginny did a double take to make sure she was in the right spot. Sure enough, right across from the door was Barnabus the Barmy’s tapestry, leaving Ginny with only one possible explanation - someone else had found the Room of Requirement. That was unacceptable. This was supposed to be a room nobody else knew about. If someone had found out about the Room, there was no telling what else they might know that Ginny needed to remain secret, and that was simply unacceptable. So, without a second thought, Ginny readied her wand and burst into the Room of Requirement, which was set up as a cozy living room decorated for Christmas, complete with a decorated tree, a record player playing Christmas music, and a couch on which the intruder was sitting.

Once she laid eyes on the intruder, a memory came rushing to the forefront of Ginny’s mind - someone else did know about the Room of Requirement. She’d made Tom have a sleepover with Georgina after she’d stumbled onto the room by accident a few months back. Now, her fellow first-year stared at her like a deer in headlights.

Ginny put away her wand. “Uh, hi. Happy Christmas!”

“Happy Christmas,” Georgina squeaked. “W-what are you doing here?”

“I was looking for something to do,” said Ginny. “Weren’t you going home for Christmas?”

“I was,” answered Georgina forlornly. “Then on the last day of finals I received a letter from my parents. My dad’s boss invited him and Mum on a holiday in the Bahamas. T-they said I had to stay here because they couldn’t get me a passport in time. I didn’t have anywhere else to go, so I came here a few days ago and haven’t left since.”

“Why didn’t you just stay in Gryffindor?”

“Because I’m afraid of getting punished,” Georgina answered, tears falling down her face. “I’m technically not supposed to be here because I didn’t tell Professor McGonagall ahead of time, and you know how she is about students being where they aren’t supposed to be. Professor McGonagall made your brother and Harry face a unicorn-killer in the Forbidden Forest just for slightly breaking curfew. If I’m caught, I’m certain I’ll be faced with a worse punishment!”

“I would have hidden you from Professor McGonagall if you’d come to me.”

Georgina wiped the tears off her face and scoffed. “Would you? From where we’re standing, how could I trust you to not turn me in to make sure I stayed out of your hair. You’ve all but abandoned me since the end of November and I bet it’s all because you finally got sick of me, the annoying biddy Bloom!”

Ginny looked at Georgina, confused. Tom had advised her to put some space between herself and Georgina, but she hadn’t outright abandoned her. Just because they only talked in class when possible and occasionally at lunch didn’t mean Ginny had abandoned Georgina, right?

One look at Georgina’s angry, tear streaked face showed her friend thought otherwise, and that made Ginny start to cry, too.

“I’ve been a bad friend, haven’t I?”

Georgina nodded.

Ginny ran towards her friend and wrapped her in a tight hug.

“I’m so sorry, Georgina! I got too caught up in doing well on our exams and spent all my free time studying. I thought our talks during class were enough to let you know we’re still friends. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

Georgina looked up at her friend’s face. “Could we have another sleepover here?”

Without a second thought, Ginny replied. “Of course! We could even have it tomorrow if you’d like.”

Ginny tensed. She remembered that Tom used Saturday nights to continue finding a way to save them both and probably would not be happy with her for taking it to spend time with someone he told her to stay away from. She went to open her mouth to rescind the offer, but one look at Georgina’s joyous smile quickly dashed that plan.

I’ll just say I want my body tomorrow night and not explain it. Hopefully adding to his gift will more than make up for it.

“That’d be wonderful. Could you also just sit here with me for a bit? I’ve missed having someone to talk to.”

Ginny wordlessly obliged and sat on the couch. The two girls spent the rest of the morning talking about Christmas, magic, and other fun stuff. They had a great time, but all good things came to an end. Ginny left the Room of Requirement shortly after 12PM, ready to give Tom his Christmas present. 

What an interesting sweater, Hunter thought as he traversed through the snow-covered campus, his thoughts turning to his best friend. She would have gotten a kick out of it. If only I could remember her name without getting the world’s worst headache.

Hunter had expected for Christmas to be just another day in the void pondering how to get alchemy to work. So he was rather surprised when he woke up in Ginny’s room holding a note which read:

Tom,

Happy Christmas! I was originally going to give you just the afternoon, but something came up so I’ll need my body tomorrow evening. So, instead you have the entire day to spend as me. Enjoy!

Ginny

At first, Hunter was furious. They had agreed that Saturdays were his day, the one day he had to research a way to save both of them from the Horcrux. His first thought was to write in the diary and see if he could demand more information from her, but that was unlikely to work. Then his mind fell to despair as he spiraled through increasingly convoluted ways to find out what Ginny had planned so he could work around it, only to be met with the high likelihood of the plan failing. When all hope was lost, though, a new thought appeared, one that felt as if it weren’t entirely his own: Ignore Ginny and go anyway. He could take control whenever he wanted, and making sure Dumbledore was as far away from Hogwarts as possible was of vital importance, or at least, that’s where that weird train of thought went. Hunter tried to refute the thought of violating Ginny’s trust, but he couldn’t think of a better way to forward his efforts in saving their lives. So, Hunter convinced himself to lie to Ginny; he’d simply not let her take over the day after and say something happened that kept them from switching back.

The next day’s plans resolved, Hunter changed out of the skirt Ginny put on in favor of pants and decided to spend some of the afternoon wandering the Hogwarts grounds. There was just something about snow that fascinated him. Was it the sparkles that made snow gleam like diamonds that he loved? Or was it the way snow blanketed the world as if Mother Nature was making art? Or perhaps it was just an association with the warm feelings Christmas brought? Regardless, it was one of the reasons why Winter was his favorite season, and Hunter was going to enjoy it.

He enjoyed the quiet grounds and serenity of nature, the cold Scottish air and heating charm keeping him not too hot and not too cold. It was peaceful, it was nice. Then, it all had to be ruined by one of the last people Hunter wanted to see.

“Hello, Ginny!” exclaimed Georgina. “Did you enjoy your nap?”

“My nap?”

“Yeah, silly! You look way less tired than you did this morning.”

“Oh, that! I just put on some makeup is all,” said Hunter. “What are you doing out here? I thought you went home for Christmas.”

Georgina looked at him, puzzled. “Uhhh, we just saw each other this morning. I decided to stay here for Christmas, remember?”

An awkward laugh escaped from Hunter’s lips. “Yeah, I know. I was setting up a joke. I meant to say it’s been so long since we saw each other when in reality we literally just saw each other. You know, ‘I haven’t seen you in forever! The morning was such a long time ago.’”

“I don’t get it,” Georgina deadpanned.

“Must be a wizarding world joke, then. My bad.”

“No need to apologize,” said Georgina reassuringly. 

“Alright, then. See ya!” Hunter continued his trek across Hogwarts and left Georgina behind.

That was close, Hunter thought. Ginny told me she had the dorm room to herself and nearly cost me everything! We are so going to have a talk about this later.

Hunter continued walking around campus, even making his way over to the quidditch pitch, which looked beautiful blanketed in snow. All the meanwhile, he was blissfully alone, or so he thought. Several times he swore he heard footsteps that weren’t his own, yet found nobody when he glanced behind him. It was only after the fifth time he heard footsteps that he found the culprit - Georgina Blume.

When his eyes laid upon her, Hunter became incensed and approached the girl. “Why are you following me?”

“I promised I would keep you company today and I plan on sticking to that.”

Hunter’s anger dissipated. “Oh, thanks. You don’t have to stay out here with me in the cold, though.”

“But I want to,” said Georgina.

With no way to peacefully get her to leave, Hunter joined him as he continued his walk, admiring the local scenery. Georgina primarily followed him, but upon seeing a small hill, she decided to take charge.

“Let’s go to the top of that hill,” suggested Georgina. “I bet the view is great up there.”

Hunter and Georgina crested the hill and came across an old stone structure. While old, seemingly unused buildings were to be expected at a place as old as Hogwarts, Hunter did not expect there to be an open trailer with the sounds of horses inside in front of it.

“Eeeeeeee!!!” Georgina squealed excitedly.

Without giving him a second to catch his breath, Georgina grabbed his hand and ran towards the stables.

“Slow down! It’s just an outbuilding.”

“But there’s horses!” Georgina continued dragging him closer to the stables.

As they got to the open trailer, a woman walked out of it carrying a small haybale. Like Hunter, the woman was also wearing only a jumper, though hers was a solid dark blue and less baggy than his. She dropped the haybale on the ground with a thud and wiped the sweat off her forehead, messing up the loose bun her hair was tied in. She then must have caught a glance of the two students, as her eyes quickly fell onto Hunter and Georgina.

“Howdy there, girls!” said the woman, making Hunter blush and filling him with a pleasant, tingly feeling.

“Howdy?” said Georgina. “What are you, an American cowgirl?”

The woman let out a deep chuckle. “Well, you’re partially right. I was just in the US for some time and I do work with horses, but I’m as British as Merlin.”

“But who are you and why are you at Hogwarts?” asked Georgina. 

“Where are my manners? My name is Laurentia Fletwock, but you may refer to me as Madam Fletwock. I just arrived from across the Pond and wanted to give my herd as much time as possible to acclimate to their new home before the term starts.”

“Nice to meet you! I’m Georgina Blume and this is my friend Ginny Weasley.”

“Well it’s very nice to meet you, too,” said Madam Fletwock. “I usually don’t get many students out here, especially before I start teaching.”

“Teaching?” said Hunter. “Are you here to replace Professor Kettleburn?”

“Oh, heavens no! I’m teaching an elective class next term called ‘Introduction to Winged Horse Riding.’ And, if enough students are interested, I’ll also be the sponsor of Hogwarts’ winged horse racing team.”

Georgina’s eyes widened. “There’s a class for riding horses?!? Is there still time to sign up?”

“Sorry to disappoint you, Miss Blume, but my classes are only open to third-years and above. However, I could always use a hand taking care of my herd and I have been known to give a few pointers to those who are a big help.”

Georgina frowned, but then smiled at the end of Madam Fletwock’s statement.

“When did Hogwarts get a class and club on winged horses?” asked Hunter.

“About eighty years ago,” answered Madam Fletwock. “Deputy Headmistress Carver pushed for an expansion of offerings for our students and she was particularly drawn towards bringing winged horses to school. My grandfather, the original riding instructor, said she told him the sport reminded her of someone who was like a sister to her.” Madam Fletwock looked at Hunter and pondered for a moment. “Since you both came all this way, would you girls like to meet one of my beloved horses?”

“We’d love to!” exclaimed Georgina while Hunter just nodded.

Madam Fletwock led them into the stables and brought them right to one of the occupied stalls. At the gate stood a tall, tan horse, staring at the newcomers into the stables, their giant wings folded against their sides.

Madam Fletwock walked right up to the horse and gave them a pat on the neck. “This here’s my personal mount, Epona. I’ve raised her since youth and consider her my best friend. Don’t be shy, you two - Epona loves a good pet or scratch!”

The sight of Georgina excitedly approaching Epona dredged a memory from Hunter’s past to the surface of his mind. He and his best friend were waiting in a car for his best friends’ sister to finish her riding lesson. He remembered his brief crush on her when he was a kid and how… How… How Г̵͕͍̫̗̜͋̄́͂͘ʁ̴̢̼̭́̀̃ɐ̸͙͙̤͇̜͘… Without realizing it, Hunter scoured his memories for her name, and was rewarded with: Gr- 

Knowing what would happen when he tried to dig deeper into his spotty memories did little to dull the ensuing headache, which still felt like he was being stabbed by a million hot needles at once. At least this time there was soft ground to soften his fall.

Hunter laid there holding in a scream and his head between his hands, his eyes closed, as the headache faded. When he started to move. When he moved one hand from his head, another reached out to grab his. Hunter did so and was pulled off the ground. He opened his eyes and was face to face with Madam Fletwock.

“Are you feeling better?”

Hunter nodded.

“That’s good. Do you need to see Madam Pomfrey?”

Hunter shook his head.

Madam Fletwock smiled. “What’s with you redheads and acting all tough? Miss Rakepick was the same way whenever she had a nasty fall. So, I’m gonna give you the same advice I gave her - go rest, but don’t fall asleep just yet. I’ll get you some pain relief potion for the road.”

Madam Fletwock went into her trailer and retrieved one flask of pain relief potion. She handed the flask to Hunter and sent him on his way. Georgina, meanwhile, stayed behind, promising to help Madam Fletwock unpack.

Chapter Text

Hunter could barely walk, his mind assaulted by an overwhelming feeling of wrong. Was it the change in his center of gravity? Was it how every single chest hair rubbed his clothes and skin together like sandpaper? Or perhaps it was simply how bulky this new body was? The answer was all of the above and more. Everything. Felt. Wrong.

The feeling was so immense that the cold Scottish winter felt like a minor reprieve holding back the desire to just run into the nearest room and rip everything off his body. Of course, if he did that, then Hunter’s whole reason for being in Hogsmeade that night would be in vain, and that put his own life at risk. So, he trudged forward through the empty village, his mind focused on the task at hand.

His efforts soon paid off when he made it to his destination, a stone building with an excessive amount of dormers and a slightly crooked tower above its viking-esque main entrance. Unlike the rest of Hogsmeade, the building was lively with sound pouring outside light shining from almost every window. Given the time of day, it made sense that this building was bustling with activity - the Three Broomsticks Inn was one of only two businesses in Hogsmeade open late into the night.

Hunter entered the busy pub and was assaulted with a cacophony of noise that made the feeling of wrong much worse. It was so bad that he shut his eyes and resorted to breathing in and out in an attempt to calm his nerves, which slightly worked. Able to function, he stiffly walked past the sea of filled tables and directly to the bar, where a woman with short curly hair tended the bar.

“Welcome to the Three Broomsti-” the bartender started. She paused when Hunter took down his hood. She glanced at him up and down, then her face turned from one of indifference to completely starstruck.

“OH MY GOSH IT’S GILDEROY LOCKHART!” exclaimed the bartender. “I’M SUCH A HUGE FAN!”

You’ve performed under uncomfortableness before, Hunter told himself. You got this.

Getting into character, Hunter responded to the bartender’s excitement with a charming smile and a chuckle. “Always glad to meet a fan,” said Hunter, “especially one as charming as you. I’d love to stay and chat with you about your favorite book of mine, but I have a very important meeting to get to. Could you point me towards Mr. Jason Isaacs’ room?”

“Sure! Mr. Isaacs is in room three. It’s the second door to your left on the second floor.”

“Thank you, miss.” Hunter stepped away from the bartender but was quickly stopped by one last second interruption.

“Can I please have an autograph?”

“Sorry, miss, afraid I can’t tonight. My guest awaits.” said Hunter in a charming voice.

Hunter didn’t give the bartender a chance to talk again and quickly ascended the nearest staircase. Once out of everyone’s eyesight, he dropped the act and internally cringed.

I’m starting to regret not sneaking in here. It would have been riskier, but at least I wouldn’t have needed to act like that fraudster or deal with this feeling of wrongness.

Using Polyjuice Potion to disguise himself as Lockhart was never the plan, but the opportunity was too good to pass up. The Golden Trio did indeed take Hunter’s off-handed advice to use Hermione’s batch Polyjuice to swap genders, but Ron backed out at the last second. Ron came back to Gryffindor Tower, ranting about how crazy his two friends were to swap appearances for an hour. So, Hunter snuck to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, where he found a single phial of potion sitting in an open stall. Hunter took it, and, once confirming with his copy of Moste Potente Potions that it was an unkeyed Polyjuice Potion, all he needed was to source a strand of hair from someone. Hunter, luckily, had one Gilderoy Lockhart at his beck and call.

After ruminating on his buyer’s remorse, Hunter cast a quick Tempus charm to see how long he had left with the disguise. He smiled when the spell revealed that only twelve minutes had passed since he drank the potion. Satisfied, Hunter quickly found room three and knocked on the door seven times.

Said door was opened by a man in dark blue robes with his face obscured by its hood. The figure eyed Hunter and sneered at his chosen disguise.

“I know it’s far from ideal, but it’s not like I could show up here in a white cloak and mask without raising the alarm. Will you please let me in?”

The figure wordlessly stepped away from the door and invited Hunter into the room. Hunter entered the room and shut the door behind him. As the figure sat at the table at the foot of the bed, Hunter quickly cast the Muffliato Charm before joining the figure at the table and setting his bag by his chair. Once both were seated, the figure set a small satchel on the table. Hunter reached in and pulled out a phial of luminescent pink dust as well as two small books.

Hunter frowned. “Where’s the rest, Lucius? I clearly asked you to bring me four things, yet I only see three. Are you trying to sabotage me?”

Lucius’ eyes widened. “No, my lord! This is all I could get you by your deadline. I swear!”

A pregnant pause fell over the room. Hunter scowled at Lucius for several moments, letting the fear rise in the Death Eater. Once Lucius looked sufficiently terrified, Hunter’s scowl dropped.

“Understood. What, then, have you failed to bring me?”

“The soul stone, my lord. I had to reach out through my international contacts just to find anything. There’s a collector in the East Indies with a few relevant artifacts, but they’re a complete recluse. I only managed to make contact with them yesterday and they’re asking for four million Galleons.”

“Four million Galleons?”

Lucius nodded.

“So when can I expect to receive my artifacts?”

“B-but my lord, shouldn’t we at least try to negotiate the price down?”

“No. We don’t have time to waste on haggling.”

Lucius looked unsure and slightly offended.

Hunter put on an intimidating expression.“Are you so greedy that you’re unwilling to part with such a paltry sum?”

“No, my lord! No price is too high for our goals!”

Hunter smirked, satisfied with Lucius’ kowtowing. “That’s what I thought. Make sure I have it by the end of January. Understood?”

“Yes, my lord!”

“Now, then, what did you find at Quirinus Quirrell’s residence?”

“Just that book and the Muggle thing sticking out of it,” Lucius said, pointing to the thinner of the two books.

Hunter picked up the aforementioned book and opened it, revealing page after page of handwritten notes and diagrams as well as a ballpoint pen being used as an improvised bookmark. It looked promising, but upon closer inspection, the book turned out to just be lesson plans for Muggle Studies.

There goes any hope of finding any notes on the Philosopher’s Stone from Quirrell, Hunter thought. Lockhart found nothing in his office and now this.

“Where did you find this?”

“It was found behind a bedside table,” Lucius explained. “Everything else of value was long gone. He probably fled at the end of the school year.”

“Quirrell didn’t flee, he died. Dumbledore must have covered it up, and is likely the one responsible for his residence’s ransacking."

“Why would he do such a thing?”

“If I had to guess, it was to hide what he was guarding, and what Quirrell was after.”

“And now you’re going to take it for yourself,” said Lucius confidently.

“Of course not. Dumbledore destroyed it. If I had any of their notes, though, I could make one of my own. But, as long as he’s still headmaster, that will be impossible, so I’ll be accelerating my plan to get rid of him. Speaking of which, I need your advice on my plan.”

Lucius looked awestruck. “Y-you want my advice?”

“None of my underlings know Hogwarts politics better than you. So, it’s up to you to help me shortlist candidates to replace Dumbledore.”

“Severus would be perfect for the job. He already works there so he-”

Hunter raised his hand, silencing Lucius. “Severus is out of the question. Putting him, or any ‘former’ Death Eater in charge will only lead to the board yearning for Dumbledore’s return and most of the faculty secretly aiding him. What we need is someone non-controversial to the board but also won’t hinder our activities.”

Lucius pondered for a few moments. “The only person I can think of who would fit that description is Arthur Plummly. The board will trust someone who has been there almost as long as Dumbledore, but rumor has it he’s mostly focused on surviving the year until his second retirement in June. If he was appointed interim Headmaster, he’d likely do the bare minimum to keep the school functioning and leave anything else alone. Of course, you’d have to get McGonagall out of the way. I assume she’ll be sharing the same fate as Mr. Davies?”

“Of course,” Hunter said. “Just make sure you don’t buy enough mandrakes to fix her with the rest of the students.”

That’s what she gets for leaving a kid in an abusive household, thought Hunter.

“Of course, my lord. If she recovers too soon, she’ll inevitably want her job back and Plummly would likely acquiesce.”

From then on, they continued talking about the details of Hunter’s plan, right down to the date of the attacks. During this, Lucius’ groveling started to get on Hunter’s nerves. Maybe it was the feeling of wrongness lurking in the back of his mind, but at that moment, he knew he had to end the meeting right then and there. So, he grabbed every item Lucius brought and placed them in his bag. Once everything was in his bag, Hunter stood up and made for the exit. However, before he left, Hunter remembered he needed to ask Lucius one more thing.

“Did you happen to find any living users of ancient magic?”

Lucius shook his head. “The last recorded user was Artemis Carver, and she’s been presumed dead for decades.”

“Understood. I’ll be in touch soon for my new artifacts. If I receive them cursed, I’ll kill you slowly and painfully. Goodbye.”

Before Lucius could answer, Hunter was out the door. Once he was back in the brutal cold, Hunter rushed back to Hogwarts.

Hunter had made it half-way to the Chamber of Secrets when it happened. One second he was a half second away from a total meltdown and being consumed by the wrongness. The next, Ginny’s body shrank to its normal size and the wrongness disappeared. Of course, that left Hunter with a new problem - clothes too big hanging off his frame. This was just as bad a problem as the wrongness that had plagued him for an hour. Hunter had left Ginny’s clothes in the Chamber of Secrets, but to get to the Chamber of Secrets he’d need clothes that wouldn’t just slide off or trip him, clothes such as those Ginny wore.

Alas, Hunter only had one option available to him - the Cape of Herodiana. It was incredibly risky, given what he used it for, but it would cover enough of Ginny’s body until he could get her clothes back on. So, he went into an alcove and quickly swapped Lockhart’s clothes for the cape in his bag. To play it safe, he cast the Disillusionment Charm before continuing to the Chamber.

Luckily, the rest of Hunter’s journey was one of near total silence. It appeared no one was wandering the castle, not even the ghosts. The closer he got to the Chamber of Secrets, the more Hunter let down his guard. By the time he reached Myrtle’s bathroom, Hunter was so confident he was alone that he forgot to check if anyone else was in there. So, without a second thought, Hunter ended the Disillusionment Charm the second he was in the bathroom and opened the Chamber of Secrets. However, the second he started his descent, a voice broke the silence.

“Ginny?”

Hunter’s blood ran cold as he immediately recognized that the voice belonged to Georgina Blume.

“Please tell me you’re not the Heir of Slytherin.”

“Why would you think that?” Hunter swiftly turned around and aimed his wand at Georgina, only to find she, too, had her wand aimed right at him.

Georgina’s eyes widened. “Oh my God… you ARE the Heir of Slytherin! I didn’t want to believe it, but then you were acting weird yesterday afternoon and missed our sleepover and that got me thinking of the times you were acting weird and that brought up my dream of the white figure speaking Parseltongue-”

“How do you remember that? I wiped your memory!”

“All I remember is that figure was speaking Parseltongue, just like Harry Potter or the actual Heir of Slytherin. The weirdness, that dream that you admitted was a memory. They all pointed to the Heir of Slytherin’s doing. I just didn’t know where to look. Then Hermione mentioned you ‘stumbled’ across this room somehow while they were in here and I knew I’d find you here if it was true.” Georgina looked closer at Hunter’s wand. “You’re not actually Ginny, are you? She’s right-handed, not left!”

Hunter stayed silent.

“Well? Answer me!”

Hunter took a deep breath. “You’re right. I’m not Ginny. I’m stuck in her body and am looking for a way to get out of here. Filch wasn’t supposed to be petrified, though. Dumbledore sent him after me, I swear! I can’t find a way out with him here, so I need to petrify enough students to get him fired. He knew I was the heir and intentionally got Filch petrified to force my hand, I just know it. As long as he’s here, I’m not safe. Ginny’s not safe.”

“LIAR!” Georgina screamed. “I know what you did last time you opened the Chamber. Hermione told me what Professor Plummly told her. You killed Moaning Myrtle!”

Hunter raised his hands defensively. “B-but that wasn’t me! I swear! I’m genuinely trying to keep Ginny safe.”

“I don’t believe you, you pervert.”

“You have t-” Hunter’s fear evaporated, replaced with shock. “What did you just call me?”

“You heard me, pervert,” said Georgina. “Why else would you go around possessing and killing schoolgi-”

Georgina’s words sunk into Hunter’s mind and, at that moment, his vision went red. He tackled her to the ground in an instant, yanked her wand out of her hands, then pinned her arms above her head. 

“I. Am not. A pervert! NEVER CALL ME THAT AGAIN!”

Fear dawned on Georgina’s face as Hunter pointed her wand at her.

“W-what are you going to do to me? Are you going to kill me? Please, don’t kill me! Anything but that!”

He was going to merely obliviate her again, but a thought popped up in his head: Obliviating her didn’t work last time and she needs to suffer for what she called you. You know what to do.

A deranged smile appeared on Hunter’s face. “I hope you like being a statue!” 

Hunter turned his head towards the pit. §§Theresa, petrify her!§§”

Hunter heard Theresa slithering up the pipes as he dragged Georgina in front of the nearest mirror. 

Tears fell down Georgina’s face as she struggled to break free from Hunter’s grasp. “Please don’t do this! Anything but this! I-I’ll keep quiet I promise!”

Hunter continued to smile as Theresa grew nearer, ignoring Georgina’s pleas entirely. 

When Theresa was in the corner of his vision, Hunter spoke one last time: “Any last words?”

“I’m sorry!”

Something about what she said and the look of absolute terror on her face triggered something in Hunter’s mind, causing his vision to go white.

Hunter was no longer in Myrtle’s bathroom; he was standing in front of a six-year-old girl, ready to berate her.

“I’m so sorry,” M̴̻̓̀α̵͍̲͐̒д̷̰́ε̷̙̖͂λ̶̪̝̐ɪ̵̯͋̏n̵̨̾ said. “I didn’t mean to break your phone.”

“Sorry fixes NOTHING!” Hunter yelled. “I thought I could trust you to keep my phone safe, but you couldn’t even handle that! I saved my allowance for months to get this phone, and now it’s ruined, all thanks to YOU!

Tears fell down her scared face. “P-please big brother, I’m sorry!”

Hunter just angrily glared at Madε̶͚̅l̷͎̍и̸̡́n̴̪̆ь̸͇̈́ as her words turned to sobbing and crying. It instantly evaporated his anger, leaving Hunter feeling like a monster. He’d never yelled at her before. He’d never made her cry before. Yet, now both were true, and for what? A cracked screen on a stupid phone? It wasn’t worth making Madε̵l̶и̷ne cry. Nothing was.

Hunter snapped back to reality, his mind clear from the resurfacing of a once blocked memory and name. He frantically looked around for Georgina, only to see her petrified body being dragged into the Chamber of Secrets by Theresa. The last thing he saw of her was the fear etched on her face, the same fear he’d once inflicted onto another and never wanted to see again.

Hunter fell to his knees and sobbed loudly. Oh my God! Madeline! I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry! She sounded so much like you. Now I’ve hurt her like you. I’m a monster. I’m a monster. I’m a monster!

Chapter Text

Standing alone in the hallway, Hermione had one thought: something weird was going on. It wasn’t just the whole ‘two people petrified with ominous messages near them’ thing, either. There had been a sense of weirdness in the air that only got worse the past few weeks, first with the students randomly hissing like snakes shortly after Harry was accused of being the Heir of Slytherin, then with Harry himself insisting on swapping their genders on Christmas. Hermione knew deep down it was a bad idea, but she didn’t stop him. As a result, Hermione was accosted by a sense of wrongness for an hour and Harry hadn’t left his room in almost a day. If only they hadn’t listened to Ginny, the reason Hermione stood in the hallway in the first place.

A first-year named Georgina had come to Hermione saying that Ginny had been acting weird since yesterday, missed their planned sleepover, and had been followed by Georgina to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom several hours ago but hadn’t left. Hermione had dismissed Georgina’s concerns as a simple squabble between friends until she heard where the youngest Weasley went. She remembered how Ginny had walked in on her, Harry, and Ron in that very bathroom preparing the Polyjuice Potion needed to uncover the Heir of Slytherin’s identity. She’d oddly been wearing pants instead of her usual skirt that day and held her wand in her left hand as if she had always done so. Yet she knew Ginny was right handed. Then Ginny single-handedly ruined their plans and put the idea to change genders in Harry’s head. Something about that had never sat right with her, so when Georgina said she had gone there again, Hermione knew she had to find out more.

Hermione waited for Georgina near Myrtle’s bathroom for over half an hour. During that period, her thoughts honed in on Ginny and everything weird that had happened with her this school year. The more she thought, the more things clicked into place. Ginny had been the first on the scene each time someone had been found petrified. Ginny always seemed to disappear every Saturday evening. Ginny seemed different, almost more mature, that night she asked about translation runes. And Ginny acted suspiciously that Saturday night in the library where someone wreaked havoc there, the same night when several kids were cursed to hiss like snakes for a day, and the same night that Ginny wore pants. It was too much evidence to ignore: something was off with Ginny Weasley, the same Ginny Weasley Georgina went to confront.

Oh no! Georgina might be in danger!

Hermione ran to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, her wand drawn and ready to cast at a moment’s notice. Her momentum, though, quickly dissipated as she approached the bathroom door. Hermione heard sobbing inside that only got clearer the closer she got. By the time she was right outside, it was clear to her that the person crying on the other side was Ginny herself. When she put her ear against the door, Hermione thought she heard Ginny calling herself a monster in between sobs. She stood there, listening, for several minutes until the sobs became too much for her to bear.

Hermione gently opened the door and tip-toed in. There, she found Ginny wearing a white cloak and lying on the floor, sobbing by the sinks. However, something was off about said sinks - one of them was missing and replaced with a gap beyond which was a dark, gaping pit.

“G-Ginny?”

Ginny’s head snapped to Hermione, her sobs quickly turning to panic, then a look of utter defeat. “Of fucking course you’d stumble in here. Just my luck today.”

“Ginny, what’s wrong? Did something happen to Georgina? Did she do something to you? Should I go fetch Professor Dum-”

“No!” Ginny interrupted. “He can’t find out. None of them can.”

“But he can help you, Ginny. If-”

“STOP CALLING ME THAT!” Tears fell from Ginny’s cheeks once more. “I know you know that isn’t my name. You’re the one who probably blabbed about it to Georgina, anyways.”

The color drained from Hermione’s face. “Y-you aren’t Ginny?”

‘Ginny’ stared at her flabbergasted. “Are you fucking kidding me? You actually didn’t know? That’s just great. If I’d just kept my damn mouth shut, one of the last people who should know the truth would still be unaware. Stupid, stupid stupid!”

I need to get Professor Dumbledore! Hermione slowly backed away from ‘Ginny’.

‘Ginny’ locked her gaze on Hermione and aimed the wand in her left hand at the bathroom door. “Colloportus!”

A stream of light exited the wand and hit the bathroom door, creating a loud clicking noise.

“I’m sorry, Hermione, I truly am, but I’m afraid I can’t let you leave. Accio Hermione’s wand!”

Hermione could only watch in fear as her wand flew from her robes to ‘Ginny’s’ open hand. ‘Ginny’ menacingly approached her, her face etched with fury and regret. With each step taken, ‘Ginny’s’ look of fury lessened and was replaced with anguish. Then, just steps away from Hermione, she collapsed to her knees and the sobbing returned.

“All I want is to live,” ‘Ginny’ sobbed. “S-she was gonna blab to Dumbledore and condemn me to death. Obliviating her didn’t work before. I… I had no other choice. I can’t do it again. I-it’s over. It’s over it’s over itsoveritsoveritsov-”

Hermione took advantage of the impostor’s emotional distress and took back her wand, causing them to snap out of their emotional spiral. Their eyes snapped right to hers and contained a glint of desperation and terror.

“Please! Please don’t do anything to me! I mean you no harm, I swear!”

“How can I believe you?”

‘Ginny’s’ eyes lit up. “An unbreakable vow! I can make an unbreakable vow. Accio my wand!”

Hermione heard a wooshing noise from behind. She turned around and saw a cream colored wand fly out of the pit and whiz past her face into ‘Ginny’s’ free hand. They then dropped the wand they had originally used and placed the cream wand in their left hand, which they then raised like they were giving an oath.

“I swear that for the next five minutes I shall not lie to one Hermione Granger lest my soul be cast into oblivion. So mote it be!” The tip of their wand lit up red for a brief second after then faded.

Hermione looked at them, confused. “What was that?”

“An unbreakable vow. For the next five minutes, I will have to answer you truthfully or I will die. Have they not taught you about those yet?”

“No.”

“Well, you know now,” ‘Ginny’ said. “So you’ll know I’m telling the truth when I say I never wanted any of this to happen. I wound up connected to Ginny one day and am looking for a way to separate us. I never wanted to attack somebody, but Dumbledore forced my hand when he sent Argus Filch in an attempt to get who he assumes is the creep who orphaned Harry Potter. I may have ended up in that monster’s diary, but I am not him.”

Voldemort! Why is everything bad related to him? Whoever this person is, they shouldn’t have to suffer.

“Surely if you explain yourself to him he’d help you, right?”

“He’d be as likely to kill me as he would to help me. If there’s any chance of weakening the dark lord, Dumbledore would probably take it. Now, can we please move this conversation to somewhere a bit more private?”

‘Ginny’ motioned towards the pit and walked towards it.

“Before I follow you into that hole, can you at least tell me your name?”

“You can call me Tom. Now, before we go downstairs, I’ll need you to close your eyes until I say you can open them. Otherwise you’ll suffer the same fate as Filch and Davies.”

Hermione walked over to Tom and grabbed their hand, then closed her eyes. They led her down a spiral staircase into a cavernous area that made her footsteps echo, then into a hall with stone flooring where he stopped her. 

Hermione tensed up when she heard hissing right in front of her. She almost ran away, but stayed strong. I need to know what’s going on here.

“Sorry about Theresa,” said Tom. “She’s quite the moody basilisk. I’ll get her out of here so you can see again.”

A basilisk? I didn’t know they could petrify people.

Hermione heard them hissing back and forth with the giant snake, and that led her to a realization. “You were the one who made all those students hiss like snakes, right?”

The hissing abruptly ceased. “Yes, I am. I felt bad for Harry after he failed to heed my warning. Almost every time I tried to save him from misfortune, the universe screwed him anyway. I thought that if a bunch of other people were caught hissing like snakes, it would take some attention away from him. That kid suffers enough as it is. Did it help?”

“I think so? People weren’t harassing Harry about being the Heir of Slytherin, but it may have been because it was the end of term.”

“I see,” said Tom. “I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”

Hermione heard them hiss again. This time, it was followed by slithering that got softer and softer until it was no more.

“You can open your eyes, now.”

Hermione obliged and found herself in a tall atrium centered on a tall statue of a stern looking bald man, and at the feet of the statue lay the petrified body of one Georgina Blume.

“Welcome to the Chamber of Se-”

Hermione ignored Tom, ran right to the frozen girl, and knelt at her side. One look at the reddened eyes and dried tears was all it took for Hermione to cry.

“I’m sorry, Georgina,” Hermione said solemnly as guilt ate away at her. “I should have stopped you from going in there alone.”

“It’s my fault, not yours,” said Tom. “I wasn’t careful enough and Georgina got suspicious as a result. At least she won’t re…” Tom trailed off and paused for a second. “Damn it. I forgot to obliviate her.”

“Obliviate? Why can’t you do that now?”

“I’ll show you why.” 

Tom got out his wand and cast the Memory Charm. Instead of striking Georgina, said spell bounced off her body and dissipated shortly thereafter.

“You could have just said the spell didn’t work on petrified people.”

“But you seem like the type who wants to know why. Now you know why that spell doesn’t work - it can’t penetrate the mind of someone petrified. No regular mental spells can. I have another spell that would allow me to erase Georgina’s memory of being petrified, but I’d rather not use it.”

“If you have a spell that works, then why don’t you use it?”

“There are two problems,” Tom explained. “The spell messes with your sense of self for the first instant, but the bigger problem is when I also have a memory of the event of the memory I wish to erase. Do you know how 3D glasses work?” 

Hermione nodded. “I’ve used them before at the cinema.”

“Imagine trying to wear 3D glasses, but instead of overlaying two of the same image, the glasses are giving each eye a unique image that are then overlaid on each other. If that sounds nauseating and headache inducing to you, then you know why I want to avoid using that particular spell. So, I’ll have to wait for her to be healed with that mandrake potion and obliviate her before anyone can ask her what happened.” 

“The mandrakes won’t be ready until the end of the year! Georgina and Roger will get held back if they’re out for that long.”

“They won’t have to wait that long,” said Tom. “Once Dumbledore is out of Hogwarts, the school can buy mandrakes and brew early. He’ll be suspended by the end of February at the latest. Plenty of time for them to catch up with their studies.”

Is Dumbledore really that much of a threat to them? Hermione thought.

“I see that look on your face. You’re probably thinking ‘why does Dumbledore have to go?’ Well, I’ll tell you. My initial research has led me to believe I’ll need a Philosopher’s Stone if I want to not die, and there’s no way Dumbledore would let anyone go near anything the school might have that would allow for the creation of another. Plus, there’s the fact he thinks I’m wizard Hitler and is trying to stop me as a result. Now that I’ve told you my plan, I have a question for you, Hermione: what will it take to guarantee your silence?”