Summary: Ginny is having nightmares. And then something happens that could change her. Forever.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. But I wish I did.

Author's Note: This is my first try at something kind of horror-ish. Should I continue? R&R!

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The hall is dark and empty, just like last time. I set off running through the haze that suddenly fills it, just like the last time. But then, I stop. Something has caught my attention. I look around, but faithlessly, because I cannot see a thing. I move to the side, smacking into a wall. Slowly, I run my fingers up against it. It's smooth, and cold, and wet. I pull my fingers back in horror.

Blood.

I start running again, just because there's nothing else to do. But I hit something, something hanging right in front in me. Slowly, I move to touch this something, feeling a chill spread through my spine.

A body. A dead body.

I scream.

I sit up quickly in bed, my head knocking against the ceiling. Ouch.

It was a dream, that's it. Another nightmare. I shake my head, and get up. I wander over to the bathroom, closing the door as to not wake the others in the dorm, and turn on the light.

I stare into the mirror above the sink, trying to tame the red tangled mess on top of my head into something like a ponytail so I can wash my face.

Red drips down above my eyes.

I pull my hand back in horror. My right hand, dripping blood.

Just like in the dream.

Quickly, I wash it off. I'm too shocked to scream, so I stand in silence, watching the red swirl down down down till it disappears into the drain. I dry my hands, and slump against the door.

I've been having these nightmares since I got back from Easter break. Two months, and there still the same.

Until now.

Until they started becoming real.

I try to think. There has to be a scientific explanation for this. I search my hand for a cut. Nothing. Maybe it's like a paper cut, so small I can't see it. But how did it bleed so much?

It isn't even my blood.

Yeah, but it was a dream. No one was killed at the end of that dark hall that had been haunting my dreams forever.

Magic does exist. And who would of thought that would?

I sigh and stand up, wishing I could talk to someone about it. But they'd think I was crazy. Just like when I killed those chickens and I ransacked Harry's room. Turning off the lights, I return to bed and pull the covers up, shutting my eyes and attempting to shut out the rest of the world.

But I can't sleep.

The library.

I get up and slowly move to the door. I need something to read, to take my mind off this. I walk downstairs, tiptoeing and trying not to breathe. Surprisingly, no one catches me. I wander through the library, trying to find myself something to read.

Suddenly, I'm in the restricted section.

I walk along the rows of books, silver titles screaming out to me. One, titled Number Nine, catches my eye. A love potion? I bend to pull it out, to skim through, but before I even can open it, I see the little black book that was behind it. Stuck. I pull it free, curious. A nondescript little thing with no writing on it. I open to the first page.

The Secret Diary of Aurora Day.

Wary from previous encounters with diaries, I sit back, and turn to the next page. Neat rows of cursive fill it.

Monday, the twelfth of March 1902.

Strange things have been happening, my dear diary. In the two days it takes me to buy a new book, I've had more nightmares. Horrid, awful nightmares. I beginning to think I'm one of the characters in one of Beatrice's penny novels. Last night, though, it became much worse. I dreamt of that hallway again, the long, dark one that seems to have no end and is always popping up in my dreams. But this time, at the end was something so awful, so horrible, that I cannot even begin to describe it here. And then, I woke up to find blood on my hand, like it was in my dream. Beatrice told me that someone put a curse on me, that I should find out whom and get revenge. She thinks it was Catherine. But I don't believe her. Who would play these awful tricks on me?

Until next time,

Aurora.

I look up, having heard a door slam from somewhere off in the building. I stand and tuck the book inside the pocket of my pajamas. I need to leave before someone catches me.

Someone had the same dreams as me.