Harry Potter's Twin Book Two

Tom Marvolo Riddle

My eyes snapped open.

I felt disoriented, and it took me a moment to process where I was. I was in my dormitory, on my bed, and Lavender's horrible singing could be heard in the shower. I was the last one up, which was a real surprise. I'd never seen the girls' morning habits before – Padma was sitting quietly on her bed, her clothes folded neatly on her lap as she waited for her turn in the shower, and Hermione was combing through her bushy hair.

“Nixie?” Hermione looked at me with a smile. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, I'm all right,” I felt a little jumpy. “Why? Don't I look all right?”

“Well, sure,” I suspected that she was lying.

“Then why would you ask?” I demanded, my voice coming out sharper than I had meant it to.

“Er...” Hermione was staring like I was going mad before her eyes. “When you left Hagrid's you seemed – off – and when you went to the detention with Professor Lockhart, Harry said you didn't even acknowledge that anyone was there. You were just signing photos....”

“Really?” I ran my hand through my hair, which was really greasy for some reason. “I don't remember anything after...” Images flashed in my mind – Professor McGonagall, Ginny's blank stare, a sink, and then a long pipe heading down to a place I'd never been. I knew I should have told Hermione, but my throat was constricted, not even allowing me to breathe.

“Nixie?” Hermione looked extremely worried now, watching as my hand blew to my throat.

Okay, okay, I won't tell! I thought fearfully, and my throat relaxed. I gasped, savoring the oxygen that filled my lungs.

“Nixie?” Hermione said again, and I looked at her.

I forced a smile, though I felt like sobbing. Why was my body betraying me? “I'm fine, Hermione, stop worrying. I'll – er – see you later.”

I ran out of the dormitory, not caring that my hair was messy or that I still had on the same clothes I wore yesterday. I didn't want Hermione to ask questions – if she did, who knew what else my body would do to stop me from answering?

When I reached the common room, I saw Ginny sitting in an armchair, looking strangely small and pale. I approached her, wary of the blank look she was giving the fire, like she didn't realize where she was.

“Ginny,” I said quietly, not wanting to startle her. I sat on the floor in front of her, and her head jerked in my direction. She looked confused. “Ginny, I don't remember much of yesterday....”

“Me neither,” Ginny whispered. She was shivering even though the common room was warm.

“I was hoping you wouldn't say that,” I rubbed my arms. “One of the last things I remember is seeing you, that's why I came...”

“I only remember speaking to Luna,” Ginny bit her lip, beads of sweat gathering on her forehead. “I don't remember anything... Wait? You saw me? What did I do?”

My throat tightened, and I lied, “I only remember seeing your face. I don't know if we even spoke.”

Ginny looked ready to cry, and guilt ate at my insides. “D-do you think Tom can help us? Can we write to him?”

Tom was in my pocket. I pulled him out. He was helpful in many other situations, and he always said the right words to comfort me. Maybe he could save us from this strange memory loss.

I opened the diary to wear I kept the Muggle pen and wrote:

Tom, it's Ginny and me.