Until she found the diary, Ginny never cared much for her full name.
She had no idea who first came up with her nickname. All she knew was that it had become commonplace by the time she was five years old. She didn't completely abandon her full name, though. It was just an inconvenient one to say. She introduced herself as Ginevra, but asked to be called Ginny. Everyone complied.
Except for him.
Ginny hadn't been in a good mood when she first met him. Her face was still flushed from the events that had happened while shopping for Hogwarts supplied. When Harry-Merlin, it was Harry Potter, had been insulted by Malfoy. When she stood up for him.
She buried her face in her hands. How could she have ever thought that was a good idea? Harry had looked grateful in the most awkward way possible. Like the expression one made when trying to be excited about the ridiculous present someone else gave them. No doubt he and Ron were making fun of her right now…
The red on her cheeks had become so deep, she was certain they were going to burst. She felt the urge to rant, to scream, to throw her words out in the open. She already did this-shouting at her walls was not an unusual occurrence for Ginny Weasley. But she didn't just want to rant.
She wanted someone to listen.
Of course, she knew there was no one who would. Everyone would merely tease her. Still, she needed to get the words out somewhere…
And then she saw it.
At first glance, there seemed to be nothing evil about the diary. It was beaten and battered, of course. But the stained, yellowing papers were clear and empty. A perfect canvas for her to throw her thoughts onto.
Dear Diary, she wrote. This isn't the best beginning, but I really need to
Never would she remember what she was going to write after, for the words began to sink into the page. A chill swiped her skin and her heart hammered in her chest. She didn't have to sit in her state of fearful confusion for long. Words appeared on the page. Words that were not her own.
Hello? Who are you?
She didn't move. The diary could talk…back? Immediately, the uncertain warnings of her parents set in. This was a diary that could talk back…but she had never seen anything like it before. Maybe she had discovered something great. Something that would finally stop the teasing.
I didn't know you could talk back, she replied. I've never seen a diary like it.
Please don't call me a diary. I may be in one, but that's not my name.
What's your name? How did you get in here? Was that too sudden? Oh, it was probably too sudden. Just like her to offend everyone within two seconds of knowing them-
My name is Tom. I can't quite remember how I got in here. I was attending Hogwarts, my fifth year. I was simply having a normal day and then…nothing. It's been so long. I'm glad someone finally found me.
Ginny felt her heart sink with pity. Poor Tom. He was just like she was. Thrown into a new situation. Completely alone… Well, being trapped in a diary and attending Hogwarts weren't very similar situations, but she ran with it anyway.
I'm so sorry, Tom. I'm going to Hogwarts soon, I'm a first year. I can talk to you.
That's very kind. First year is an exciting time indeed. I'm glad I was able to meet someone like you after so many years.
He called her kind? Ginny ducked her head. No one had ever called her kind before. She wasn't just the annoying younger sister now.
Thank you. I can even be your friend. Maybe then, he wouldn't suspect how badly she needed one herself.
You're very welcome. And I would love to be friends. We can't be friends until I know your name, of course. What's your name?
I go by Ginny, but my real name is Ginevra.
Why do you go by Ginny? Ginevra is a very lovely name.
Ginny had gotten more compliments in five minutes from a journal than she had for quite a long time. No wonder her quill was shaking from excitement as she wrote her reply.
It's just long. It takes too much time to say. And some people tease me about it.
Well, I have all the time in the world to write your name, so write it I will. I'll call you Ginevra. A most beautiful name.
How charming he was! Ginny eagerly scribbled a thank you.
No need to thank me. Now, tell me more about your world. I'm sure I've missed quite a bit after so many years…
In just weeks, the name she'd never cared for had become the highlight of her life. Especially the way Tom wrote it. His handwriting was practically an art form, and though she'd become self-conscious about her rushed, sloppy letters, he was quick to reassure her.
That was the gift Tom gave her: reassurance. The name 'Ginevra' often was followed with a compliment. A final weapon against the demons that had been whispering in her head for years.
She had no clue she was letting in another demon.
Instead, she survived her first weeks at Hogwarts. There was still a sense of foreboding boiling in her stomach, but she told no one. Her brothers would probably tease her, her parents would scold her, and she hadn't anyone else to tell her worries to…
That was what popped her bubble of joy. People. Or rather, the lack thereof. When she'd come to find a group of girls in the corridors, snickering at her from their circle of friends. Friends. The ones Ginny didn't have. No one spoke to her at Hogwarts. Despite her fears, she'd always thought other people would simply flock towards her. Instead, no one did. She hadn't thought it would be this difficult.
They turned towards her again, then back at each other. Like they were in their own society, like they had their own secrets, their own inside jokes that Ginny would never be a part of. They spoke loudly, like they clearly wanted her to hear…
She lay in her bed moments later. The castle of Hogwarts had seemed like something out of a fairytale, but now the unfamiliar walls and ceilings were like a maze. Not like her home. The Burrow was small, but also safe. She could walk through the rooms without opening her eyes, far too used to the corners and crevices to bump into anything. Now, she always had to keep her eyes up. Even then, she was quick to bump into something.
She didn't remember taking out the dusty old diary. She didn't remember when she started crying.
Hello? Are you there?
Ginny felt drawn to write again, but did nothing.
Are you alright?
Yes.
I can feel your tears on the page.
Of course, she'd been stupid to think no one would notice. It was practically in her expression. Everyone else had likely noticed too.
Hello? Are you alright?
They were all probably making fun of her too. Why did she have to be so sensitive? Was there something wrong with her?
Ginevra?
And that was it. That was what pulled her to reply. When Fred and George teased her, they'd often inquire with a fake-sympathetic, "Ginny?" But Tom was true.
I'm here. I'm sorry. But something happened today…
No one could deny the skip in Ginny's step. It wasn't like anyone mentioned it, or even looked at her for then a few seconds, but that didn't degrade the feeling. At first, she would write to Tom every week. Then every five days, every three days, until she was scribbling her thoughts away daily.
She'd already had her conversation with Tom today and she was still mulling it over. She'd managed to get through an entire Potions class without embarrassing herself. It was certainly a welcome change, but they hadn't talked about it too much. Instead, Ginny was quick to shift the conversation to her brothers, to her experiences at Hogwarts, and to Harry.
She had felt awkward at first, talking about her crush to someone like Tom. Someone who practically dripped with charm and wisdom. But he'd listened to her. Listened to the words that had been bottled up inside her since the beginning of the summer. And he did not judge her. He did not mock her. He just listened.
It was wonderful.
He'd even managed to make her feel like she had a chance with Harry. Yes, Fred and George were quick to disprove that statement earlier today, but it was something…
Ginny sighed. She hadn't gotten much time to discuss the teasing, and she desperately longed for that safe space in her life. That freedom from everything that sat on her shoulders. It was only afternoon, she still had a lot of time until tomorrow...
It wouldn't hurt to talk to Tom a second time today, right? After all, he was being such a good friend. He wouldn't mind…
Ginny found herself reaching for the diary again. Yes, just one more time today. That would be all. It would be fine.
Tom. Tom help me. I'm so scared.
Despite the fact that Ginny was sitting in the dark night, she felt as if a spotlight was shining on her. As if everyone could see. Icy sweat poured down her fingers as she clutched the diary like it was the only thing keeping her from falling.
What's wrong, Ginevra?
I don't know. I don't remember what happened at all after the morning. There was just nothing and when I woke up I had these feathers all over my robe and I'm so confused and not only that, but the Chamber of Secrets has been opened Tom what do I do?
Calm down. The words were merely against a page, but she could almost hear Tom's silky sweet voice in her ear. Soothing her heartbeat. Her breath rattled against the air. Calm down, Ginevra. You'll be alright. Everything is going to be alright.
But Tom, what about my memory?
You likely fainted from the shock of the Chamber's opening.
And the feathers? Ginny knew she shouldn't be so compliant, that she should be demanding for more evidence. But she didn't need someone to hit her over the head with reality. She needed someone to hold her, stroke her hair, and tell her that she'd be fine.
You might have bumped into something. You don't remember anything, so there's no reason to worry.
But what about the Chamber? She remembered the ominous message splattered against the wall. Someone was out there. Someone with a vengeful intent.
Yes, but nothing huge happened. There's no reason to fear it. You'll be fine. Now, tell me about your morning.
The sudden subject change slammed into her. Her mind wanted to dwell on what had happened before, but her heart tugged her someone else.
Well, I met someone in class today. His name was Colin. He was nice.
I'm not surprised. You deserve kindness, and I'm glad someone else is sensible enough to give it to you.
Ginny's fingers coiled. Tom's words seemed so wrong, so jarring after what had just happened.
When she didn't reply, more words formed on the page. There's really no reason to be worried, Ginevra. Everything is going to be alright.
Tom.
Ginny was distinctly aware of the thick tears streaming down her face. Sitting at night, hiding under her blanket, was becoming far too common. Every time she passed by the mirror, she saw her skin a sickening pale and sunken cheeks. Trying to sleep only plagued her with more helpless thoughts, questions that led to no answers.
Remember Colin? He was petrified too.
Tom didn't take long to reply, despite the shocking revelation. Why? Had he already known, or-? No, no, that was impossible. He was her best friend.
I'm terribly sorry, Ginevra. I cannot imagine how it's like on your end
No, Tom. It's not just that. The day he was petrified I felt so weak and scared and I don't remember anything. It was all black and then when I was awake again, I got the news. She remembered the frozen horror in her veins. Weakly limping to a place she couldn't remember. Slipping into darkness's warm and dangerous grasp. Waking up to find that someone else had been attacked. I'm so confused. I need to tell someone.
No. Don't tell anyone. None of them will listen to you. They may love you, but they still think you a little girl. No one appreciates you. No one will be your friend. No one except me.
She didn't know if she was hallucinating what happened next, a phantom touch around her shoulder. Like someone was holding her.
Tom, is that you?
I suppose. I can reach out somehow…in a way. You're a sweet girl, Ginevra. You make me stronger. Everything is going to be alright. I can feel you crying on the pages again. I don't like it when you cry, but I know it's important for you to let it all out. So, let it all out. I'm here.
He was. Someone was here. More heaving sobs clogged Ginny's throat, blocking any suspicions she might have.
"I wish you were real," she whispered. And she let herself fall into Tom's almost non-existent, familial embrace.
The weeks passed, and Ginny was taunted by the barely-lit ceiling. She'd been staring at it all night, tossing and turning. The soft blanket should have been a comfort, but instead it always seemed too heavy or too light.
That wasn't a surprise. With all the things haunting her mind, it felt like the weight of the world was on her shoulders. Stress followed her like a servant following its master. Although now, Ginny was starting to wonder if she was even the master anymore.
Her grades had started to slip. Despite all the problems she'd faced, at least she'd been able to pull in decent marks. But now, the universe didn't even give her that precious gift. She tried to focus, tried to keep her eyelids from sagging. And every time, her mind would race off to a place she couldn't even fathom and she'd get the dreaded paper back with failure written all over it.
Mum certainly wasn't happy, but Ginny was lucky enough to not get a Howler. Instead, a letter that, despite being relatively calm and encouraging, made her feel like she was drowning in the disappointment of the others.
Her brothers tried to help, at least. Ron would at least give her a helpful ear, Fred and George would make her laugh, Percy even tried to give her a potion. None of them understood why she was really feeling upset. If she told them why, they would report her. And maybe they might discover…
Whether she came for the diary or the diary came for her, Ginny could not tell. She was struck by how heavy it had become. Or were her hands getting weaker?
Struggling to push away the questions brewing in her mind, she recounted what had happened. Someone else had been petrified. She didn't remember his name, but it didn't matter. He was still a person who had been attacked. Attacked right around the time she'd blacked out again.
Don't worry. Everything is going to be alright.
Frustration stabbed at her. It was a foreign rush. She couldn't remember ever getting angry at Tom.
How can you say that!? Someone else could have died… She'd tried to create a temporary wall, but just being in the diary's presence shattered whatever will she had. I think I'm going mad. I'm becoming so much weaker and I keep seeing these visions in the dark and I keep blacking out right around when the attacks happened and I'm so confused. Then she wrote them. The words that she never thought would escape, whether from her voice or her fingers. The words that filled her with helpless terror. Tom, I think I'm the one attacking everyone.
Before she could even begin to comprehend what she had written, Tom wrote back. That's ridiculous. You could never hurt anyone, Ginevra. The name disarmed her, or rather, it should have. The steadiness she felt before was no longer strong. Why, she wondered, had Tom's reply been so quick? Why had it sounded…practiced?
The next day, Ginny's conscious drove her to apologize profusely to Tom. She had abruptly ended the conversation. It seemed to be a bad idea, especially since she knew there was no sleeping for her anyway. But anything seemed better than writing to him.
Tom's words were not as smooth as usual, as he nearly scolded her and told her not to do it again. Then, they had instantly turned into the silky reassurances and praises he usually gave her.
But something about them seemed forced.
That wasn't even including the fact that Ginny had fallen asleep when she put the diary away. It was only for a few minutes, but it was something. It drove her to experiment. She didn't want to do that to her closest friend, but her body constantly felt like it was going to collapse. She wanted to make it stop.
She began the tests simply enough. Instead of talking to Tom five times a day, she tried to lower the number. At first, the pain was excruciating. Every muscle in her body seemed to be ripped free. They were all reached towards him. They wanted him. Needed his soft, comforting words. But she needed to go through with the experiment…
That action seemed to be growing more unlikely by the minute. She tried to do anything else-work on homework, talk to her brothers, even shout at the walls. But she just didn't want to.
She almost gave in. Almost leaped for the diary to recount every emotion that had formed in her mind to Tom. To fall to her knees and beg for him to forgive her. But then she noticed a strange lightness in her arms. The heaviness in her chest lifted slightly.
And instead, she got up and she walked.
Similar tests wielded similar results. Somehow, her energy blossomed the less she spoke to Tom. Yet the freedom came in short bursts. And she couldn't just leave him forever. She was his only friend. And he was hers…
After days of not speaking. Ginny opened the diary again.
Where have you been? Tom's handwriting was no longer smooth and beautiful. The edges of the letters were harsh and jagged.
I was busy.
With what?
She wanted to pour her heart out to him again. She didn't bother considering his reaction, she just wrote. I was experimenting by staying away from you.
Tom didn't write anything back. He didn't need to. Ginny could feel the pages of the diary swell. The temperature in the room shot up, and the rage seemed to slap her.
I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Tom. All at once, helplessness seeped through her. It's just that I feel better when I don't write to you. Oh, how could she say this? To her only friend?
The calm was surprising.
Oh, Ginevra. The name touched her like a gentle wind. A wind that preceded a great storm. It's not me. It's the lack of attacks. Because of that, you're feeling less anxious.
Of course. That made sense, yes. He was her Tom. He was her best friend. He listened to everything she had to say and…How did you know there weren't any more attacks? I didn't tell you.
Silence. Then, I assumed that if there were, you would have told me about it already.
Was his handwriting shaky? And very funny how when I was away from you, the attacks stopped.
Ginevra.
She couldn't stop writing as thoughts that had loomed in the back of her mind for days all came out in a flash of fury. And how you always diverted my attention and never explained anything.
Ginevra.
That was the last thing she saw before she slammed the diary shut.
For a few moments, she just lay there in shock. Her heart was pounding and her instincts were screaming. Something was wrong with Tom-no, not Tom. The diary. The diary. Not Tom. It was the diary. And she needed to get the diary away from her.
She snatched it, feeling the warm cover that she had once clung on to as if her life depended on it. All her terrified thoughts that kept her awake for hours on end. She had to pin it on somebody. And that somebody was him. No, not him. It. It.
Thinking seemed to be a vision from the past as vengeful fire raged inside her. She blindly reached out, grabbed her hand, and screamed whatever spell she knew.
Nothing worked.
The tattered diary's holes seemed to have filled in from when she first found it. As if she was making it more powerful.
Ginny let out a howl of frustration. Even her voice had sounded hollow. A close minded need to destroy had gripped her as she grabbed the diary once more.
Then, she took it.
She wasn't looking to see what it was. She wasn't looking to see who it belonged to. What mattered was that it was an object, and a powerful object at that. She wrapped her arms around and sent it smashing against the diary.
Not even a tear.
Another animalistic scream. She reached forward and grabbed another one, crushing it against the diary.
Nothing.
She could almost hear mocking laughter echoing in her ears. She didn't want to think about who it belonged to, for if she did, any will to destroy the diary would immediately vanish. Her ears burned and she tried again.
Again, again, again, it didn't matter. The diary was invincible. It had harmed her so, yet she could do nothing to harm it. Could she ask someone else to fix it? No. No, if anyone found out about the diary, they would also find out about her.
She had to get rid of it herself.
Ginny's mind targeted a single destination. The abandoned restroom. It would have to work.
She snatched the diary once more, trying to ignore the taunts burning in her ears. The journey passed by like a blur. Seconds later, she was in the restroom. Empty.
She tossed the diary and flushed it away. Running before she bothered to see if it had actually gone down.
The weeks that followed were like a dream. Her hollowed cheeks seemed to grow fuller each day. The attacks had stopped. The diary was not there to trap her.
And yet, it all felt like a lie.
Ginny knew she couldn't have gotten rid of the diary that easily. It should have felt triumphant, watching it vanish out of her life. Yet she felt only like she'd dodged a bullet, and the gun was being reloaded. The stiff cage she was constantly in was only fraying, not broken.
No, she told herself. It was over. It was fine.
Yet it was still impossible to believe. The diary had been a part of her for so long. How was she to do her homework without him-someone there to motivate her? Who was she supposed to talk to about her brothers now that her safe space was gone? Was there really a point of trying to get closer to Harry when no one was there to encourage it?
That didn't stop Ginny from writing him the poem, but she had nothing else to do. Doing her Charms homework seemed like it was a million miles away. She was already used to the disappointed frown and sometimes annoyed glare she would get every time she entered the classroom.
Yes, just another, dreary walk to the Charms room. It quickly turned out to be anything but. As she passed through the crowd of students, she noticed that a very recognizable poem was being sang in the corridor.
Oh, Merlin… Ginny ducked her head as she witnessed the scene, where Harry stood, nervously clutching his bag and watching the occurrence with surprise. How could she have ever thought she could do anything without the diary? This was all her fault-
Any embarrassing thought faded from her mind as she saw the contents of Harry's bag. Many books, but none of them could compare to the haunting cover she had held nearly every day.
Tom-the diary. Ginny felt goosebumps sprout across her skin as she stared, aghast. It was gone. She had flushed it, it was gone. But no, it was there. An image reborn from her nightmares. The diary was back. And it was with Harry.
No. No, no, no. What if the diary retold everything? He-it was enraged at Ginny for what she had done. It would try to get revenge in any way possible. What if it told Harry how she felt? Everything she'd written. What if it told Harry that she was the one behind the attacks? Who knows what would happen to her…?
Her mind was still racing as she stumbled into the Gryffindor common room later that day. She should've known it was too good to be true. Maybe she could tell the twins…
But as she heard them reciting the poem she'd given earlier while choking on cans of laughter, Ginny's mind was made up. She would do this herself.
The girl barely paid attention during classes the next few days. Another winter had settled over her and it overpowered everything else. She had to get that diary back.
The creaking as she entered the boys' dormitories made Ginny want to shriek at the top of her lungs. She wanted to shout, to kick, anything but this. But she had to find that diary.
She'd tried to be gentle at first. Brushing aside a couple items, careful not to break them. But the cover she knew was nowhere to be found. If she didn't find it-
Desperation roared in her chest and she wasn't surprise to feel the escalation in her veins. The entire world seemed to shift as she shoved the trunk aside.
Find it, find it, she had to find it.
Ginny threw anything she could find. It didn't matter. None of it mattered. Nothing except for the diary. She needed the diary.
Find it, find it, she had to find it.
She only caught glimpses of the damage that surrounded her. Undeterred, she searched and searched and finally, she came upon it.
The irony was almost sickening, how her face lit up upon finding the very object she tried to destroy. But at least she had it now…
No.
That was when Ginny saw what she had done. Ripped curtains, a stream of objects collapsed on the ground. As if a hurricane had gone through the room.
The horror at what she had done gripped Ginny full force. First, she'd petrified all those innocent people. Now…now…
As she raced out of the room and burst into the hallway, the world seemed to dance before her very eyes as her senses dulled. Dizziness whipped through her. She only barely noticed how tightly she was holding the diary…
Ginevra.
She had heard his voice, sometimes. Echoing the words he was writing. But now he wasn't writing anything.
"No." A hollowed out whimper came from her lips. She'd been planning to dispose of the diary right after. Not this…
That was when her brain shattered and she fell to her knees.
Sunlight filtered through Ginny's eyelids. Her dead senses seemed to come gradually. The feeling of the soft blanket wrapping around her. The early morning chirps.
But all she could think about was last night.
Her eyes snapped open and the common room took shape before her. This wasn't the first time she had blacked out and woken up as normal in her bed.
And what she did then was never good.
Ginny didn't bother looking at the diary. She didn't want to see it again. She didn't bother listening to her body, which was begging for a break from running. She didn't care.
She had to see what she'd done.
The corridor leading to the hospital wing was all too familiar. She'd been sent there plenty of times when her empty eyes and sagging skin caused too much attention. And when she went there on her own to see who she'd hurt.
Ginny barely had time to look before she turned away again. She stumbled into the hospital wing and the image struck her. Two girls, lying like stone in each of their beds. Unmoving. She didn't recognize the first one, but the second one…
It was Hermione.
It was the best friend of Ron.
And Harry.
She couldn't look. She stumbled back into the corridor, her heart hammering, but slower than usual. The diary had taken a toll on her. But she no longer cared. She'd hurt two more people. And she'd hurt her brother and love along with them. All because of-
The diary.
Ginevra.
That voice. Her name…
"Go away." Her voice was a whimper. She wanted to stay inside all day and cover her ears and make the world disappear. "Just go away."
I didn't want you back. I intended to use Potter myself. But now that I have you again, rest assured. His voice dropped to a whisper. I'm not destroy my plans.
She tried to destroy the diary. She did. But any time her fingers touched it, she would feel an invisible rope dragging her forward. Ginny would just barely be able to escape before hurting someone else, but it was impossible.
She passed by a mirror and saw her once strong skin was weakening again. The bones in her arms were becoming visible enough to trace. Her voice had become a low groan that everyone stayed away from. There was no one to talk to.
That didn't mean she wasn't going to try. She ran up to professors, even students, desperately trying to scream the truth. And every time, she would hear a dark voice in her head, feel her limbs freeze over, and any words she had would fizzle out.
Ginny's head lay against the table in the Great Hall. The crowds of people only made her feel lonelier. The walls that were so grand, encircling such an enormous room, seemed to be closing in on her by the minute. Every second, it became more difficult to breathe. Harry and Ron were right beside her, yet they seemed to be so far away.
Professor McGonagall's speech flew over her head, except for one part that overpowered any whispers in her mind. That the petrified people would be revived tonight.
They would all be alright. She hadn't killed anyone. Nobody had died.
But if she didn't tell someone else the truth now, then somebody would.
The choke hold the diary had around her disappeared. Ginny just barely managed to force it to let go. Her heart was pumping as she desperately raced towards Harry and Ron. "I've got to tell you something!"
As her eyes came upon Harry, her tongue went numb. The words were still deep inside her, desperate to escape. But their piercing looks…And what would they think of her?
But the feeling was coming back, he was coming back. She had to say it.
"Is it something about the Chamber of Secrets?" Harry asked kindly. "Have you seen something? Someone acting oddly?"
Yes. Yes. The words were about to come out, when-
Percy came forward, his eyes as stern as always. She couldn't say it in front of him. But she had to…
That moment of hesitation was enough. The tiny hole in the wall Ginny had built up was big enough for the invisible hand to swoop in and wrap around her neck. The phantom rope began tugging her away, forcing her to run.
No. No. No.
But no matter how many times she helplessly pleaded to the demon in her mind, it wouldn't let her go. Pulling her farther and farther until she was pressed in a shadowy corner.
That was too close, the voice sneered. I will not let you win, Ginevra. A barely audible whisper. I've got a place for you.
Ginny had always known him to be cruel. But not this cruel. Not cruel enough to let her witness what was happening as he possessed her.
The moist air sent waves of ice at every touch. As if her senses had been heightened, so any pain she felt would be stronger than anything she had felt before.
No physical pain could compare to what she felt inside. Beyond the freely bleeding scars and bruised skin was the torture of not being able to control herself. Of watching her own body turn against her. The legs she had used to run outside with her brothers and play were not marching her down the winding hall. The Chamber of Secrets. The tongue she had used to tell jokes with her brothers had instead been used to open up the chamber itself. And the arms she'd used to hold the brooms during amateur Quidditch practices with her family were now pushing aside anything that got in her way.
She couldn't speak. She couldn't beg or plead or scream or try to escape or call for help. Who would hear her? That was why she'd ran to the diary. No one else would listen.
She felt herself fall to the floor, her limbs still heavily from being used by someone else. A puppeteer who was watching her gleefully.
As she hit the stone-cold ground, she could see them. A silhouette of a person, watching her pain. Finally giving her control of her body again.
Not that it mattered. All the energy in her body was gone. Only the corpse of what it had once been remained with her. Maybe it had been done as an act of mercy. But it was more likely he simply wanted to hear her cries of torment.
She didn't want to give it to him. She didn't want to let him win. Even though he was going to let her die, she still wanted to have one last victory.
But she couldn't. Her voice cracked. "Please."
The figure shook its head. "Pathetic."
Ginny refused to believe it. An unexpected surge rushed through her. "You're just a d-diary. You can't win."
"A diary?" The figure gave a laugh that scratched her skin. "Just a diary? I'm not just a diary." All at once, his features came into focus. The dark, curly brown hair she had seen during her dreams and nightmares. The eyes that had seemed so calming, now nothing but harsh and cruel. "I'm Tom."
She had already known. Deep in her heart, Ginny had known this entity hurting her was Tom. But she'd still tried to deny it. It was the diary. The diary that had been so cruel with her, the diary that had killed her more every day, the diary that had forced her to hurt others, the diary that had possessed her and sent her on a final walk of doom.
But not Tom. Not Tom, with the elegant handwriting and the charming words that showered her in compliments. Not her best friend, who listened to every worry that sprouted in her head without judgement. Not her Tom…
But he was standing over her, right in the flesh. His lips curled in joy as he watched more light fade from her eyes.
"Tom." A broken whimper. "Tom, tell me it's not true."
He-no, Tom, shook his head, seeming to relish the motion. "It is true. I lied to you. About everything. I listened to your woes, but they only bored me. I was only using you." She felt her stomach dropped. His face was becoming blurry, but she could still see his smirk. "And you served me willfully. Right until the very end. And now, you will give your soul to me so I can return."
She tried to say more, but she couldn't. It's not true. It's not true…
Tom smiled as he bent down beside her. "Why are you crying? Didn't you always tell me that you wished I was real?"
"But not like this." She couldn't have sounded more helpless.
Tom shook his head, but there was no remorse in the gesture. Ginny tried to find it, but it just wasn't there. It never was.
"I'm afraid it's over, Ginevra." Ginevra. Flames ebbed inside of her. He had called her that so many times. As he told her that everything would be alright. As he'd dried her tears and told her how she was sweet and kind and wonderful. He had made her think her name was beautiful, and then destroyed it right in front of her.
As she raced through her thoughts, Tom began to turn away, satisfied at what he had done.
"Did you care?" Her voice cracked. She couldn't help it. "Did you care at all?" She was nearly choking on sobs, but continued to speak anyway. "All those things you s-said…did they really mean nothing?"
Tom did not look at her. Could that mean-? "I only said what you needed to hear."
You deserve kindness.
You're just as special as your brothers.
No one else can see how wonderful you really are.
Anyone would want to be friends with you.
Her tears felt like drops of lava, leaving heavy scars against her skin. It was all a lie. She had fallen for his tricks. His deception. She finally made a friend and he'd never cared for her at all.
She was nothing.
"No need to cry," he purred. "Everything is going to be alright, Ginevra."
Evil. Making the name he had now ruined for her be the last thing she ever heard. It was too much. The last remnants of her soul were fading. The last thing she saw before she blacked out was Tom, facing her one last time.
That's not the end, we all know what really happens. This may be the first part of a twoshot, threeshot, fourshot, it depends on when my imagination ends. Stay tuned.