A Little Trip Through a Diary / TOMIONE (COMPLETE)

Chapter Sixteen: Recovery Time

"Quite enough damage to be going on with."

_Madam Pomfrey, Order of the Phoenix_

Dumbledore and Dippet arrived just in time. Dippet kneeled at once by Riddle, who lay with a scary-looking wound on the back of his head and was completely still, barely breathing. Dumbledore covered Hagrid with his wand, but not before he sent a Patronus to the other teachers.

"Whose wand is that, Hagrid?" Dumbledore questioned solemnly, nodding at Tom's wand, forgotten in Hagrid's great palm.

Hagrid looked down at the wand in his hand ashamedly and dropped it. "Tom's," he muttered.

"Give me yours too, Hagrid." Dumbledore was still incredibly grave. Once with both wands in his care, he turned to Dippet. "How is he?"

"I cannot be sure," Dippet replied. "He's sustained a grievous injury to his head; he fell hard, I presume."

"You lost your temper, Hagrid," Dumbledore said solemnly.

Dippet looked up in surprise. "What?"

"You must have hit him incredibly hard, Hagrid," Dumbledore continued. 

Hagrid stared at his dustbin-lid palms and said nothing. Slughorn arrived, huffing, with the nurse.

"Tom!" Slughorn cried, upon seeing his star student on the floor. "What has happened here?"

"Something I hope we work out," Dumbledore spoke again. "Soon."

*

"Come on, come on, up you get." Slughorn's encouragement wasn't the most inspiring thing to listen to after being hit by a train. A moment passed as Tom briefly closed his eyes and then Slughorn spoke again, sending shards of pain through his sore head. "Quite a vicious blow you received, eh Tom?"

"It came as a shock to me too," Tom chuckled weakly. Slughorn looked concerned, perhaps not understanding his, in Tom's mind, absolutely brilliant joke. Then he realised he was on a stretcher. "I can walk," he said wildly.

"Nurse wanted to make sure. Checking for concussion and such." 

Damn that nurse. Damn Slughorn, for not understanding his joke.

Tom's senses were suddenly overcome with sound. There were shouts, and a few screams, and Tom finally recognised that they were passing the Great Hall, where a bunch of students had congregated. Possibly they thought it was another Myrtle.

"Who's that? Who's that, on the stretcher?" Panicked.

"It's Riddle, isn't it? Tom Riddle. Slytherin Prefect." With recognition.

"He's not... dead?" Anxious.

"No, you idiot. He's moving." Relief.

Tom lay back, intent on receiving the sympathy he would imminently get, and closed his eyes.

"He looks so dreadfully pale. Does anyone know what happened?" Curious.

"It was Hagrid. Hagrid opened the Chamber of Secrets. Riddle cornered him and was clubbed, it seems."

"Nasty hit."

"Who's Hagrid?" Inquisitive.

"Some Gryffindor third-year. He's being expelled as we speak."

"He should be sent to Azkaban." Furious.

Tom caught a final glimpse of the crowd as he was lifted away. Ginevra was with them, looking both shrewd and calculating (two expressions Tom had never liked), and also, to an extent, slightly concerned.

*

It was two days after the incident that Ginevra finally visited Tom in the Hospital Wing. He was in a bed at the far end (away from prying eyes) reading, occasionally lowering the book to take a sip of whatever concoction was at his side.

"You framed Hagrid," was the first thing she said to him.

The easy smile left Tom's face in an instant. "How did you know?" He frowned.

"I worked it out," she snapped. "Admittedly, I won't be telling anyone because no-one would believe me, but still. And he did hit you."

"Dumbledore, I'm sure, would take your side," Tom murmured, resting his head on the pillows, suddenly tired. "All for the half-giant that knocks you out."

"Actually, you'll be surprised, he was remarkably concerned about you," Ginevra told him, trying to hide her surprise that Tom knew of Hagrid's ancestry.

"You're lying." Tom didn't look up from his book this time.

"No, I'm not," she said steadfastly. "Just because you're such an expert Legilimens..."

Tom sat up in an instant, and grabbed her collar, his head screaming for him to lie back.

"You won't tell anyone, least of all, Dumbledore," he warned.

"Stop Tom, stop. You'll hurt yourself." Ginevra gently pried his fingers from her collar. "Lean back again."

"You won't tell anyone!"

"Of course not, Tom. Don't be dense." Tom gave a little gasp, his hand going to the bandage on his head. "Please sit back," she begged.

"Please be quiet," he murmured, his eyes closed. "It hurts less."

"Of course," she obeyed.

Suddenly there was an outbreak of shouts outside; the end of a lesson, Ginevra realised. Tom moaned and Ginevra gently covered his ears, Tom clutching her arm. After a bit, he went limp; the arm going slack. There was a thump as Tom's book hit the floor.

"Tom," she said urgently. "Tom!" His eyes were closed again now; he had fainted. "Nurse!"

*****

A.N. Ooh, a little cliffhanger!! I know next to nothing about medicine and so any comments regarding Tom's injury would be most appreciated.

Thank you for reading and PLEASE COMMENT ANYWAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!