Our Diary

Chapter 1 -- Discovery

Author's Note: So. Yes. I dare try to write another non-parody fic. This is basically what would have been written in Tom Riddle's diary between him and Ginny, in her first year (Book Two). How he possessed her and all that blather. What fun.

I hope you enjoy it.

Ginny Weasley collapsed on her bed after a long day of running around Diagon Alley, searching for the multitude of books, potion supplies, and other materials that were required for her first year at Hogwarts. Idly sorting through her pile of books, she discovered a small diary that she had not seen before. After a moment of lazily feeling about for a quill and some ink, she opened it and wrote...
August 31

Dear Diary,

Where did you come from, little red book? I think Mum got you for me as a surprise when we were at Diagon Alley today. I don't know, you were just there, in with my other books. I like you, though, and I think this year I'll write in you every day! All my innermost thoughts and feelings. Hee hee. But of course no one will ever read this. Or they'd better not!

Hello.

What was that? I didn't write that. Did I?

I'm sorry to startle you. No, you didn't write it. I did.

Who are you?

My name is Tom. I am your diary.

Oooh, spiffy! So you mean you will write back to whatever I say to you?

Yes. Think of me as... not so much a diary, but as a friend. A portable one.

How did you get in my diary, though?

How do you think? Magic.

That sounds so clichéd.

I'm sorry. So, Miss...?

I'm Ginny. Ginny Weasley.

Cute name. I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, Ginny.

And it's nice to meet you, too, Tom.

So is there anything I can help you with? Any problems, dilemmas...?

Oh, no, not really.

Come on. Of course you have something on your mind. Who would write in a diary if they didn't have something on their mind?

You have a point, I suppose. Well, the only thing I can think of right now is that... Oh, I feel so silly saying this.

Ginny dear, I am a book. Tell me.

Oh, er... Sorry, my palms are sweating in an embarrassed way, and it's making it a bit difficult to hold my quill... OK, well, the only problem I can think of right now is that ... well, there's this boy--

Ah. One of those problems. Tell me, what's his name?

Er. Harry. Harry Potter. He's very nice, and...

Harry Potter, eh?

Do you know of him?

Oh, no. I was just reflecting on his name in an entirely unsuspicious manner.

Oh.

So you like this boy, then. And do you have any other problems that are worrying you?

Well, you know, the usual. Family, being overshadowed, blah.

Oh, really? That's not so usual. Tell me about it.

God, you're a good listener. OK, well. I have six older brothers, all of whom are more interesting or special than me in some way. Not very good for my sense of self-worth, you realize.

Oh, you poor thing.

You're just saying that.

No, I'm genuinely interested. Do tell me more, Ginny.

I will-- oh, sorry, I have to go eat dinner with the aforementioned family, sorry.

But you'll tell me more later? Please?

If you could see me, you'd observe that I'm blushing from all this attention you're giving me. You're really very sweet, Tom. You'll be here later, then?

I laugh. Where do you expect me to go, dear?

Of course. Silly of me. Well, I'll write to you later, then...

I'll miss you.

Heh. I'll miss you too. Bye.

Goodbye, Ginny.


She closed the book, smiled to herself, and went downstairs for dinner, feeling happier than she had in quite some time.