Power He Knows Not

Ink and Blood

"What do you care?" Harry spat. He couldn't believe he'd wanted to trust Riddle. That he'd had to argue with himself, that it hadn't been until Aragog had told him and Ron that he'd truly managed to convince himself, that Hagrid really hadn't been responsible fifty years ago. That he had believed the worst of his friend, because of the person in front of him.

"Voldemort was after your time!"

Riddle stared at him, his sneer gone, an intrigued look in its place, as he suddenly stepped closer to Harry, his eyes searching the younger boy's face.

Silence filled the chamber, as Riddle stood very close to Harry, studying his face, particularly his eyes. Despite the sudden change, Harry still felt angry. Angry at this pretentious git, who stood there telling him how he'd used Ginny, as if she wasn't worth the breath it took to mention her. Angry at himself, for being so willing to trust some random book, instead of his friend. Angry that Riddle had his wand, and he was so useless! Useless! Pathetic! Weak little-!

"You don't even know, do you?"

Riddle's voice was soft, as he watched Harry closely, his lips twitching at the corners.
"Know what?" Harry snarled, caught up in his anger and self hatred. Because he was weak! Weak! Stupid, worthless-!

Riddle gave a soft laugh. It was a chilling sound, that echoed off of the stone walls, filling the giant chamber. Harry unconsciously flinched a little at the sudden sound, as for a split second, he remembered when Dudley and his friends had chased him through a small grove of trees at the little park near school, their taunting laughter echoing off the trees. But it was just as quickly gone.

Riddle's smile slipped from his face, his laughter fading. He seemed to consider Harry for several seconds, before he said,

"How about a choice?"

Harry's anger evaporated, his eyes widening in shock.

"What?"

"A choice." Riddle repeated, "instead of us fighting, you and little Weasley dying down here where no one will find you, and I leave with a new body and no one the wiser as to what happened, you and I will conduct a little... experiment. Go where no one else has. Wade through magic no one even dreamed of. How about it? On one hand, I continue to drain little Ginny of her life, kill you, then continue Slytherin's noble work to purge the unworthy from Hogwarts. Or, I let Weasley live, and you and I dive into magic that could very well kill us both. Your choice. Though I'd hurry. Ginny won't last long."

Harry's head was spinning.

What?

None of this made sense. What did Riddle mean by experiment? Why was he giving him a choice?

Harry stared blankly at Riddle, his brain seemed to freeze, as he tried to figure out what was happening.

"Tick tock, Harry Potter." Riddle tutted, "the possibility of your death? Or the certainty or yours and Ginny's? She won't last forever."

Riddle was right. Even as Harry watched, the outline around Riddle was growing more solid, the color of his robes and flesh becoming more vivid as the memory became more tangible.

Was it even a choice? Ginny or Him. The twins and Percy were up in Gryffindor tower, mourning their little sister. Mr. and mrs. Weasley had probably been notified already, told their daughter was good as dead. And Ron. Ron was somewhere in these very tunnels, digging out a path through the rocks, trusting Harry to save Ginny.

Riddle said it was his choice, but there wasn't one.

"Leave Ginny alone." Harry said firmly, "do what you want with me. Leave her, alone."

Riddle smirked again, studying Harry.

"Such noble sentiment. Truly a Gryffindor."

Then Riddle reached up, his half translucent fingers touched Harry's scar, and suddenly everything turned to white noise, before pain engulfed Harry. It made every other pain he'd ever felt seem like a mere discomfort in comparison.

Harry must be dead.

T-M-R = H-J-P

Ginny Weasley woke up suddenly, gasping for breath.

She was sure that she had been dying. Everything had faded away, and she remembered a figure coming out of the diary before the world vanished.

Slowly sitting up, Ginny noticed the diary tumble off her lap. What had once been a flawless book, preserved for the last fifty years, was now old and decayed, its pages dried out to the point they looked as if even the slightest touch would make them crumble. The leather cover was just as crumpled and dead. Clearly something had happened.

Slowly looking around, the first thing Ginny noticed was a wand lying on the floor not too far away, then she saw him. Harry was lying a few feet away, unmoving.

The diary forgotten, Ginny crawled over to him, ignoring the cold water of the puddle she'd been laying in, as it soaked her robes even more.

"H-harry...?"

Now that she was closer, Ginny noticed blood leaking out of his scar, which looked inflamed. Being careful not to irritate the wound, Ginny felt his forehead around the scar, hissing in worry as she felt how hot it was. She was pretty sure a temperature that high was dangerous, but she wasn't sure how to help.

Sitting back, she re-realized that she was in a puddle, a very cold puddle. It was slimy, sure, but better then nothing.

Ginny carefully tore off a strip of her robes, trying to brush off as much slime as she could. She lightly placed the cleanest part she could to Harry's head, hoping that it would help. He didn't even react.

Everything began to blur, as she started to cry. It was her fault. If Harry died, it was her fault, if she'd just told someone. If she'd left the diary at home, maybe this wouldn't have happened!

She spent the next several minutes trying to tame Harry's fever, hoping someone would come.

What felt like an eternity later, there was a sound like stone scraping stone, and Dumbledore himself hurried through the large door at the far end of the chamber, deep midnight blue robes sweeping behind him, Snape at his heels.

"Miss Weasley, what happened?" He asked gently, as Snape crouched next to Harry.

"I-I don't kn-know. I woke up and he was just lying here!"

Dumbledore helped her to her feet, even as she started to properly sob.

"I-it was a-a-all-all my-m-m-my fault!" She cried, "I should've-! I was-! I didn't-didn't mean to!"

Ginny broke down into unintelligible sobs, and Dumbledore turned to Snape.

"He has a high fever. We need to get him to Madam Pomfrey."

Dumbledore nodded.

While Snape carefully levitated Harry off of the floor, the headmaster stooped to pick up both Harry's wand and the diary.

We'll see where the updates end up.

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