Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any associated characters.
I'm Literally writing it as I go, so… enjoy?
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[I've been trying to publish for a week, but there were some bunching issues...]
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This Is Where the Title Goes…
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"Have you ever had a secret, one that no one else knows?
A secret that you whisper only, into diaries or pillows…?
Did you ever think that a secret could be your undoing, your foundation, your pillar of strength when the whole world turns a blind eye to your suffering?
It's true, trust me… if anyone knows this, it's me… Ginny Weasley.
It started out so silly, a passing story at bedtime; about a boy, well, it's always about a boy now, isn't it? I was always so determined that when I grew up, I'd give girls a hero to look up to, to aspire to, because we needed someone to dream of becoming…
Ah, anyway, mum used to tell us quietly of how a boy had brought down a dark lord… with nothing more than the power of his mother's love as a shield. She would always smile, tuck us in a little snugger afterwards and whisper, "Trust in a mother's love, it's the greatest protection you will ever have… no one will ever harm you while I am around, my little ones…"
Then Ron and I would get a peck to the forehead, and she would leave the room.
We shared a room back then, you see, before we grew too old and our bickering too loud. He talks in his sleep, you see… and I kept forgetting to knock before entering… -I've seen FAR too much of my brother for my liking, I tell you!
On the otherhand, I can tell you that it's not a Pygmy Puff tattoo that he sports… but I know EXACTLY where it is…
But, even with all our differences and fights over little things, there was one time when I really appreciated sharing a room; and it was always after mum had left, the light of our room off and her footsteps fading on the creaking stairs…
I could always roll over to face Ron in the darkness and talk to him about this 'Harry Potter' boy, the Chosen One; and back then, he never thought it odd, always answered thoughtfully with knowledge he gained from books and newspapers.
Though I complain about him sometimes, the truth is, he only ever looked up that information for me… so we'd have something to talk about in the silence of our room before we slept. He might be a little thick when it comes to working out who he likes, but Ron was always my favourite brother…
We would talk for hours, or maybe it was minutes… but in the darkness it felt so very long… a small eternity that was just us talking. He never tired of my questions, even if I'd asked them a thousand times over, and he never mocked me about it like Fred and George would have.
The whole 'Ron and Viktor Krum sitting in a tree' incident was evidence enough that I couldn't go to those two with my curiosity; it took Dad and several Ministry agents three full days to disenchant the garden gnomes. The relief when they finally stopped singing was palatable…
Still, thinking back on it… that's when it started.
A not-so-secret fascination with a boy I'd never known face-to-face, and only heard whispers of at bedtime. I knew why they refused to speak of it in public, everyone was so worried they might jinx it and end up accidentally summoning You-Know-Who back…
Alright, yes, I know… sometimes adults can be very thick, but what can you do?
From the time I was eight, there lay a secret under my bed… a scrapbook that Ron had secretly gotten me for Christmas one year previous, filled with articles and clippings all about this Chosen one. There… was also a lot about Voldemort, and Harry's parents…
You might have thought it was morbid to have clippings of someone elses' parents' obituaries… but to me it was more like, a small tribute to their memory…? I know, it doesn't make a lot of sense but, it felt right.
Mum always said go with your instincts, because if you second-guess them, something always goes wrong…
The years passed slowly, all my brothers dashing off to Hogwarts one year after the other, all slowly becoming Prefects and Head Boy in turn. Ron and I started to get a little nervous about going by then… I mean, imagine coming from a family where almost EVERYONE before you had held such important roles and been so well known for different talents…
…that tiny seed of, 'Are you good enough? What if you fail and disgrace the family name?' starts to seep in there.
Certainly, Malfoy probably thought he had that market cornered, the whole 'my family expects certain things from me' shtick… but the thing was, even if no one in the family said it… it was expected. You could see it in their eyes.
I was Mum's 'special little girl', she expected great things from me… so you could understand that I was pretty anxious about the idea of not being Head Girl before I even got to Hogwarts.
Ron laughed off my fears when I told him, not in a cruel way, but… he kind of forced them away when he said, 'Don't be silly, Ginny, you're YOU of COURSE you'll be Head Girl… and you won't have to do a thing to get there, other than be yourself.'
Which was surprisingly wise of him, given that it was RON who said it… oh, and also when you think about the fact we were only nine and ten at the time.
The next year rolled around almost seamlessly, and it was Ron's turn to go to Hogwarts for the first time… there was so much excitement in the house that day, bodies and baggage bustling to and fro all over the place.
The station wasn't too far, in the grand scheme of things, but it had felt like FOREVER trying to get there… especially since I had been sandwiched between the Twins, which is not a place you want to be, ever. Those two like playing that Muggle game 'corners' a little too much… I had bruises for a WEEK afterwards… but the itching powder I sprinkled in their luggage gained me a high-five upon their return for 'underhanded deviousness'.
Apparently it made them proud I was their sibling or something…
Not so sure that's a GOOD thing, though.
There were Muggles EVERYWHERE at Kings Cross, but thankfully we'd all given up on the 'be inconspicuous' approach years ago… because trying to hide nine loud, red-headed people in hand-knitted jumpers was really too much of a bother.
We just relied on the age-old proverb of great-grandma Weasley, 'If a Muggle doesn't know how to quantify what they just saw, they'll pretend it didn't happen and convince themselves of that fact…'
So almost a dozen people running at varying speeds at a brick pillar and disappearing gained little to no attention whatsoever.
But there was something different this year, a boy… a first-year, obviously, who tried to gain the attention of the Station Master a second time before giving up. He seemed to perk up immediately as Mum said something about Platform 9 & 3/4, racing over to us as best he could laden down with all his trunks… and a rather lovely snowy owl in a cage.
How muggles ignore us is simply an astounding display of their ability to deliberately ignore the things they would prefer not to question…
The dark-haired boy was so shy, but luckily mum took a liking to him right away and used the Twins to show the entrance to the Platform; though formalities were not exactly exchanged, because we were running quite late at this point, I found myself a little bit drawn to him.
…it almost completely knocked my curious little fascination with the mysterious Harry Potter out of my mind for the entirety of the time I was in his presence.
Though the moment the train pulled away, and we bustled back to our little Ford Anglia, the nameless boy tumbled to the back of my mind. Really though, I was more concerned with going back home, crawling into bed and sleeping for the rest of the day… why did the Hogwarts Express have to leave so insanely early each year?
It wasn't until later, when Ron sent his first letter back, detailing the trip there and the fact he was now a Gryffindor, oh, and about the people he'd met… that I realised, I'd just met Harry Potter; and he was Ron's new best friend…
The noise I made startled Errol so much he flew into a window and had Mum flying up the stairs to check if I was alright.
I think it was slowly becoming obvious to everyone how I felt about Harry Potter, though only having met him once or twice sporadically… at the station both times. We went to get the Twins and Ron at the end of the school year; for a brief second, I saw Harry leave the Platform and decided to follow. Watching with a sinking feeling in my stomach as he walked over to a trio of painfully ugly Muggles, two of which seemed to be staring down at him as if a large pile of dragon dung had materialised below them all of a sudden…
The third was obviously a spoilt little brat, as he did nothing but whine, complain and demand attention the entire time they stood there; and it couldn't have been more than minutes.
…but the worst part… oh, it just about broke my heart the way his cheerful smile, the happy expression he'd shared with Ron as they exchanged farewells, seemed to fade with every step he took closer to these people. How his head and shoulders drooped just a little further, until he seemed almost as if he wished nothing more than to have the ground swallow him whole before he stopped still before them.
The Dursleys, I found out they were called later. Horrible people, somehow that thin, cruel looking woman was related to Harry's mother… but I couldn't see it.
I'd seen the pictures of Lily Potter in The Daily Prophet before -apparently she was a little bit of a magical genius, according to one Professor H Slughorn- and she was so much prettier, sweeter and… well, kinder, than the woman I had looked at. Her face had been soft and smiling, not filled with disdain, distaste etched into every line and wrinkle around eyes and mouth…
My heart ached for Harry when I realised that he would be trapped with them all holidays while our family fought, played, feasted and generally enjoyed ourselves… it simply wasn't fair.
But Mum called me then, and I whipped away to find her through the throng of people exiting the hidden platform, chewing my lip and wondering how we could help this mysterious boy I had never said a word to previously.
Surprisingly, despite what I learned had happened at Hogwarts involving Harry, Ron and another girl I'd seen only briefly called Hermione, my brother was quite reluctant to talk about it.
No matter how much I pestered him, he would always say, 'Don't be silly Ginny, there's nothing heroic or brave about what we did… we just couldn't let that slimy git Voldemort get his hands on the Stone…'
And then walk away…
Most of what happened had been spilled by 'sources inside of Hogwarts' to the magical community, but I had to find out what exactly had occurred through the Twins. It astounded me to think that three people, only a year older than I, had faced so much and come out victorious.
…I always wondered why Ron never paraded around gloating about his adventures, I think I would have if it were me… but I never pushed too hard.
He didn't want to talk about it, not yet, so I waited. Occasionally sneakily reading the correspondence between my brother and his two friends… but always shying away from direct confrontation about them, except when he would suddenly begin talking about something the had done last year…
He always had this far-away, happy look on his face, and I simply couldn't wait to have that; friends like that, I mean… for I was going to Hogwarts next year too!
Then it happened… Ron got a letter… and his cry of outrage rang through the house like lightning. "They've put BARS on his WINDOW, those bloody Muggles!"
Even Mum didn't scold him for his use of language, she seemed quite livid, immediately taking quill and parchment to her room in order to write to someone… probably Dumbledore. From what I gather, the Headmaster seemed to have particular interest in Harry's welfare…
But that didn't stop the scheming gleam that seemed to flicker from first Ron, then to Fred and George in turn… it was, actually some strange emotion between exciting and terrifying that refused to be named or quantified.
I didn't ask, plausible deniability and all that.
It wasn't until the angry grinding of gears, roaring engine and odd metallic thunk-clud of the car parking on the ground once more reached my sleeping ears, that I even had an inkling of what had happened…
Murmured voices echoed up to where I lay in bed, four voices to be exact; three familiar and one… obviously Harry's. They had done it, rescued him from those hose awful muggles, that is…
And then Mum's voice broke into the scene, echoing so loudly my room began to shake just a little.
I leapt up and out of bed, snatching at my robe to sling over my nightdress -one of mum's old ones, with frills and the like, it was somewhat mortifying- and stumbling down the stairs as I fought to tie up the large sash. A feat almost impossible for my fumbling fingers and sleep-fogged mind…
That meeting was a moment of both exhilaration and shame for me…
For one, I saw him face to face… and he looked back; but I froze, made the moment completely awkward, it's something I'll never forgive myself for. Maybe one day in future we'll laugh about it, but not now… my cheeks still burn with the humiliation of it…
…and then Ron, that traitor, went and mentioned my mild… fascination… of Harry, TO Harry…
I… oh dear, he called it a crush… I couldn't believe I could feel so betrayed by my own flesh and blood!
…but the shrieking salts I slipped in his tea, from the Twins' stash of experimental pranks and mischief-making items, completely made up for it… even if the entire family had to live with the sounds of odd, garbled opera for several long hours until it wore off.
…wore off both Ron AND Harry, that is… how was I to know he and Ron would get their cups mixed up like that? Oh Merlin, I was so certain he hated me after that!
Fred and George laughed, but of COURSE they did… they'd been meaning to test out their new experiment for well over a week, anyway. I'd done them a favour, actually.
For the next few days we sort of danced around one another, before it became comfortable enough to whisper words like 'Hello' or 'Good morning' without my freezing, or blushing… or shrieking something odd like 'Pineapple' and running out the door.
I have no idea why I reacted that way, in all honesty… very embarrassing, but Harry and the others all pretended to be oblivious to it; for which I am eternally grateful.
We even went to Diagon Alley together to get all our school things, and OH MY GOODNESS, GILDEROY LOCKHART WAS THERE!
WOULD YOU BELIEVE IT? HE LET HARRY HAVE HIS BOOKS, ALL AUTOGRAPHED, FOR FREE… AND WHEN WE GOT HOME, HARRY GAVE THEM TO ME!
CAN YOU BELIEVE IT? …does that mean he likes me?
Yes? No? Can you tell me?
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Oh yes, Diagon Alley… something else happened there too, it was probably the most important thing too…
Draco Malfoy and his father were there, but Harry stood up for me when they were rude -not that I couldn't have knocked them into next week with a good swing of my cauldron, but it was nice to have someone take my side.
But… of course, I came home with something else, and you would know all about that, wouldn't you?
All good things come to an end, though… I was careless, and it shattered EVERYTHING.
It was the night before we all went to Hogwarts, well… everyone else was going *back* but this was my first year, and I was so excited… I tore my room apart trying to find things I might need. I mean, Mum and Dad could always owl me anything I forgot, but still… I wanted to get it right the first time.
Besides, who wants a package of forgotten knickers dropped onto the breakfast table with the post, in front of the rest of your housemates?
Not me!
But, as I was triple-checking my booklist was complete, made up of old and new textbooks with a mixture of names written along the inside of some of the more faded, well-worn covers, Mum called me downstairs for a moment to run er… certain things past me…
It was one of those embarrassing 'Just in Case' talks, always ending with, 'And Madam Pomfrey is always there to help… never forget that, and don't be embarrassed.'
Mortifying, yes.
But not nearly as mortifying as walking back to your room to find the object of your near life-long fascination casually sitting on your bed and flicking through The Scrapbook you keep hidden. You know, the one detailing every little thing about him, his parents, that night, his family, the man who took them away forever…
I suppose it would be like finding Gilderoy Lockhart reading your diary…
He didn't say anything, didn't even look up when I cleared my throat, just flicked through the last remaining pages with wide eyes behind his glasses and then shut the book almost reverently.
…oh, I'd forgotten he didn't know a lot about what had happened. Dumbledore had been quite vague about the whole thing, apparently…
I don't remember exactly what happened after that, he just left I think, our eyes never met… and I went back to packing my trunk. At least, I think that's what happened, because all I remember is that he wasn't there when I woke up in the morning to a hand shaking me awake roughly with much excited yelling, and my trunk had been packed and fastened.
Dad was levitating it out the door as I peeked my eyes open to look, actually…
Harry and I didn't speak to one another at Breakfast, or when we met on the landing, nor the entire car ride to the Platform… not a word to one another as we boarded the train, I went to find those of my own age and wound up sharing with a strange blonde haired girl with a fascination for radishes, actually. I liked her… in an odd way, she's quite endearing.
…still not sure what a 'Nargle' is…
Harry went off with Ron, and ran into a bushy-haired girl I assumed was Hermione; none of use saw each other as we disembarked either. I assumed he was mad with me, or maybe afraid of me… there were some girls out there who obsessed over him… called themselves his 'fans' and seemed relentless in pursuing him because of his Chosen One status.
I wanted to pull him aside and simply say that I found him fascinating and admired him for who he was as a person, for what he'd lived through and come out so well-adjusted… and while I liked him a little in that way, it wasn't an obsession like it was for others. I wanted to tell him he inspired me…
But I never had the chance, the First Years were herded to the boats; the blonde girl and I shared with several others as we skimmed across the starlit surface of the Great Lake. Tentacles periodically making ripples as they appeared, reaching out for us to touch, or to pet someone on the head as we all giggled…
The trip seemed to go on forever, and it was magical… simply magical…
But so was the moment they lined us all up, marched us into the Great Hall, and placed the Sorting Hat on our heads, one by one… the heart-thumping anticipation as you waited your turn, the solid weight of your destiny placed upon your head alongside the Sorting Hat… the feel of it moving about as it sifted through your mind and gauged your potential…
The moment it finally made it's decision… and an entire table clapped wildly for you as you slumped in relief, beaming, before the Hat was taken off, you slide off the chair, and make your way to your new House Table.
Nothing can prepare you for that moment, and nothing can compare to that moment. That is the truth, my quiet friend… absolutely nothing.
The feast was simply amazing too, and once or twice I caught Harry looking my way before he flushed and turned his gaze back to other things. Maybe he didn't hate me after all…
That made the night even better, if anything. Though all my energy started to drain significantly after a while, when the candles began to burn lower, and Professor Dumbledore announced we must all go to bed.
A Prefect kindly showed us the way, and reminded us three separate times that this week's password had been set on, 'Tentacular Leaves', before guiding us inside as the Fat Lady portrait swung open.
…you wouldn't believe the Common Room, it's everything I imagined from the stories my brothers told me, so big and everything in shades of red and gold! But so comfortable too, a cheery fire… couches… desks…
Harry, Ron and Hermione were sitting on a couch, talking to some other boy with a toad and smiling tiredly; the Prefect reminded them to go to bed shortly and 'set a good example for the new students' before primly guiding them all upstairs. The Prefect leading them being female, she was able to show the boys to their Dorms, as well as the Girls to theirs… without the unfortunate slide trigger; which she made an unfortunate passing third-year demonstrate to the entire group.
It's late now, I've already written something to Mum and Dad, something for Charlie and Bill too… because they always said to send them my first impressions of the castle.
So now I'm lying on my strange new bed with it's red covers flattened smooth by dedicated House Elf hands, and talking to you Diary. I promised that the minute I got to Hogwarts, I'd write in you about everything… make you something special I can pour everything into…
My secret.
Oh, I have to go now, the others in the room are all asleep and I hear footsteps coming up the stairs towards us -apparently Professor McGonagall does a bed check or something?
It would be bad form to get in trouble on my first night, and classes DO start tomorrow… so, for now, dear Diary, goodnight… I love you.
Thank you for listening, see you tomorrow."
Ginny primly put down the quill she had been writing with and gave her hand a firm shake to dispel the tightness that had seeped into it from over an hour of solid scripting in her new diary; capped her ink bottle with it's cork and turned away to stash them within the small bedside drawer to her immediate right as the footsteps grew louder.
She turned to blow out her candle next, wax dripping slowly down in fat, slow rivers to the holder, and failed to see the way the pages of her new, mysteriously-obtained journal appeared to inhale her words… the ink seeping within the parchment without a trace…
Nor did she see the way it offered up the glistening words, 'No, Ginny… thank you…', before the cover swallowed them up; but an inexplicable shiver ran the length of her spine anyway…
She paused a moment, then shook her head with a soft smile at the odd sense of foreboding radiating within her body… it was probably just nerves…
In the recesses of her bedside cabinet drawer, the Diary pulsed a sickly green light… and if you listened hard enough… you could almost swear… it was laughing…
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THE END
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So, what did you all think?
It was literally written in the spur of the moment for a good tumblr friend of mine as an award/encouragement for finishing that last bit of uni term without going completely crazy (and believe me, I once didn't sleep for three days to finish those last few assessments, STRESS).
Anyway, hope you enjoyed reading it...
~*SailorSilvanesti/Phoenix Fire*~