The only characters I own are those that I create. Nothing else is mine.
Once upon a Journal
When I look back, I realize that all the clues were there, just waiting for me to piece them together.
I can't believe I was so stupid as to believe in a book that wrote back! Honestly...
First it appears in the middle of my very old second-hand book right after that death munching ferret handled it.
Next, Tommy boy seemed really interested in the happenings around Hogwarts. Finally, those nasty memory blanks started to appear at the same time the Chamber of Secrets scare began. But did I manage to figure it out in time? Of course not!
For once I thought I actually had a friend. Someone I could tell about my life, about being the only girl in a family with six boys, having to share a room with those dreadful harpies and about my crush on one Harry James Potter. When the real world was too tough for me, all I had to do was open my diary and I would have an automatic friend who never seemed to tire of listening to the woes of an eleven year old Gryffindor girl and was always quick to offer advice, no matter what time it was or how silly my troubles were.
In reality, I was drifting farther from the world with each stroke of my quill. At one point, even Fred and George, those silly pranksters, noticed and made me drink Pepper-up potion in the hospital wing. Not that it helped... I guess that I finally realized something was wrong a bit before Valentine's Day. Then I tried to throw the book away in the loo. Should've known it wouldn't work. When I saw that Malfoy git's hands on it after pulling it from Harry's stuff, I knew I had to get it back. What if Harry discovered how to work it and found out about my crush on him? So, I stole into his dorm room and grabbed it while he wasn't in. Big mistake.
As the days passed, Tom grew more impatient and I was always tired. It was almost as if the book had a life of its own and was sucking mine into it. That should have been my warning to take the book to Professor McGonagall or even Professor Dumbledore, but by then I was too far gone, too weak to fight the pull of the book's curse on me. I didn't notice the looks of concern or the fact that I was getting behind in my classes. Something was wrong and I didn't know what it was. I vaguely remember going into the chamber.
Suddenly, there is was—HIS face staring down at me, rescuing me from the dark depths of sleep. HIS hands on me, shaking my shoulders. I had never been so happy to see my brother Ron. Everybody was so worried! I seriously thought Mum would suffocate me as she hugged me and finish what Tom had started.
Then came the question that was on everyone's mind: how did old Voldie get to me? And it all came together: the memory gaps, Tom's incessant questions about Harry, the rooster feathers down my front and I wanted to just disappear in shame, but Professor Dumbledore said that wizards older and wiser than I am have been tricked by Voldie before, so I should not be ashamed of myself.
My parents seemed to understand. After firmly scolding me and reminding me that I shouldn't trust something if I can't see its brain, they bought me my own journal (I refuse to call it a diary) with a password lock so I could put my thoughts on parchment and that's what I'm writing in right now. I have learned my lesson.
A/N: This is my first attempt at writing fanfiction. What do you think?