Disclaimer: JKRowling owns Harry Potter. I'm just playing in her world.
A/N: I figured it was time I uploaded this. It's been sitting in my USB for months, along with several other oneshots I've yet to post. I must've edited it (out of boredom) at least five times. The final time was last night, when I decided that I'd post it but was too tired to anything about it. Heh. The layout of this is quite odd, but I kind of like it this way.
I remember finding it for the first time. I got home from Diagon Alley and immediately started to pack. I was sorting all the textbooks into alphabetical order when I noticed a little black book. I opened it, flicked through the pages. It was bare. I assumed Mum must have decided to buy me a notebook, and threw it in. I decided to use it as a diary, to get some of the weight off my shoulders. And then it started talking back …
Dear Diary,
My name is Ginny Weasley, I am eleven years old, and a Gryffindor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. All I want is a little attention, especially from Harry Potter, who only knows I exist because he's best mates with one of my brothers.
Dear Tom,
Today was awful. A few Slytherins knocked me over, sent my things flying everywhere, broke my quill. I saw Harry and his friends down the hall, but they didn't notice me … or they ignored me. Why do I feel so invisible, Tom? Why do they treat me like I'm not there?
Dear Tom,
It's my birthday today. Only my family – oh, and Colin Creevey – remembered. I thought Harry would remember, or I at least hoped Ron would tell him. It's not fair. All I want is to be noticed. But they can't even give me that, Tom. I'm just nobody Ginny Weasley.
Dear Tom,
I'm so glad you're here to talk to. Otherwise, I don't know who else I would turn to. Lavender? No, she's too much of a gossip. So's Parvati. Hermione? She's too wrapped up in school work. Mum? Oh, definitely not. Too embarrassing. What other girls are there? Moaning Myrtle? Ha ha. We'd be nicknamed Moaning Myrtle and Galling Ginny, or something equally ridiculous. Boys never listen … except for you, Tom, you're always there.
Dear Tom,
I'm scared. Hermione was attacked yesterday, Petrified. As much as I hate her (I've seen the looks Harry gives her, we all have), she's really close to my brother and Harry, and they look really upset about it. No one thinks Harry's the heir now, so we're all back to square one. I wonder who it could be …
Dear Tom,
I like you.
Dear Tom,
A girl in Hufflepuff was attacked yesterday, Tom. I'm really scared. Blood traitors are as bad as Muggleborns in the Pureblood's eye, I'm scared they'll attack my family. I can't remember where I was yesterday, either, Tom. I can't remember at all.
Dear Tom,
I'm sorry. I didn't mean to throw you away – well, I did, but I was scared and confused at the time. When I realised that it was silly of me to let you go, I saw Harry with the diary, and raided his room afterwards. It was quite brave of me, actually. I didn't think I'd be able to do it. But I have you back now, Tom. I'm so sorry.
Dear Tom,
I think it's me. I think I'm the one that's letting out the creature. Every time someone's attacked, I can't remember where I was when it happened. My robes keep getting dirty with slime and grease, and I can never remember how it got there. I don't know why, I don't know how, but I think it's me … maybe someone's controlling me. You have to help me, Tom. I need you.
Dear Ginny,
I am Tom Riddle, and I used to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. This diary used to be mine, but I'm sure it's in good hands. I cannot tell you much about myself but do not be afraid, Young Ginny, think of me as a friend.
Dear Ginny,
If I could be there, I would hex those Slytherin gits into oblivion. They have no right to disrespect you like that. Harry must be mad for not noticing you. I'm sure you're such an attractive young lady, and you have such a sweet heart.
Dear Ginny,
Happy Birthday! This Colin boy, you haven't mentioned him before … perhaps he could fill Harry Potter's place until Harry realises what a fantastic young girl you are? If he forgot your birthday, he must be truly insane. You're not a nobody, Ginny, you are a smart, adorable, caring girl with a heart too big for her body. Don't let those idiots put you down.
Dear Ginny,
I enjoy talking to you, don't doubt it for a second. Don't turn to anyone else, they won't understand. They don't understand you like I do. Besides, I would miss your company so very dearly. You're not galling, Dear, don't ever call yourself that. I admit, many boys are careless and clueless about a girl's mind, but I'll always be there for you.
Dear Ginny,
I'm sorry to hear about Harry's friend, but honestly, if she has the potential to steal Harry from you, don't pity her. She doesn't deserve it – she deserves a good knock around the head and a decent Disfiguring charm so Harry can forget about her. Don't dwell on it for too long, Ginny, the chances of a First Year working out who the heir is, is pretty slim. No offence, my Dear, I mean no disrespect, but it's best you leave that to the teachers.
Dear Ginny,
I like you, too.
Dear Ginny,
They won't attack your family. 'Blood Traitors' (which is a vile term, might I add) or not, the Weasleys are still a large part of the Wizarding community, and if they consider harming your family, they would only be making the Pureblood count even smaller than it already is. They won't take that risk, Sweetheart, not when there's already so few Pureblood families left. I remember, Ginny, you were very tired yesterday; you thought someone might have slipped a Sleeping Draught into your morning Pumpkin Juice … you most likely slept through the entire day dreamlessly.
Dear Ginny,
Don't apologise. For a while, I thought you'd merely been wrapped up in school life. It's quite possible, you know, so I didn't dwell on it much. I did dearly miss your notes, though, Ginny; I won't deny it. You say Harry got hold of the diary? Interesting. That was, indeed, a brave thing for you to do. You could have been caught, accused of doing something else. Congratulations. I'm glad you're back, Ginny.
Dear Ginny,
I'm here for you, Ginny. You're not doing it, don't be silly. But if you want some comfort, head down to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom on the Second Floor. Go to the group of sinks in the middle, look for the one with snakes on the taps. Wait there. I'll come. Oh, and bring the diary with you. I'll see you soon, Sweetheart.
Little did I know, that was the last time I'd ever use the diary, the last time I'd ever seek comfort from Tom. I obeyed his orders, went the bathroom with the diary in my hand. I found the sink, stood in front of it, and then it all went black. My body seized up, and I vaguely remember feeling like I was falling, but the next thing I knew, I was cold, wet and in a place that smelt distinctly like a Muggle sewer. Harry was beside me, injured. He told me that Tom was Voldemort, a sixteen year old version of himself trapped inside a diary. He told me that I had been letting the snake out, that I wrote a message on the wall in blood, telling everyone that my body would lie in the chambers forever.
That's when I knew everything. That it had been me responsible for the attacks, that those moments when I forgot everything were when I was being controlled. But most importantly, I knew that Tom had lied to me. Everything he said, about liking me and caring for me, all those nicknames like Sweetheart and Dear meant nothing. He never liked me, he only wasted his time with me because I was at Hogwarts, and I knew Harry … I was the perfect spy, and I had been exactly that, telling him what was going on inside the school walls.
I felt so foolish, so utterly ridiculous and pathetic, and traitorous. I was scared to go back up, afraid that I'd be kicked out from school, disowned from my family. Dad was always telling me not to talk to something unless I know where it keeps it's brain. I didn't know anything about Tom, not really, yet I opened up my heart and soul to him, let him take control.
I never touched a diary again, never opened any book that seemed remotely curious or mysterious. But still, the one thing I could never bring myself to regret, was the feeling of comfort I got from talking to Tom. He was my shoulder to cry on, my ear to whine to, my friend to depend on … my diary to write in. And I couldn't regret that, no matter how much I wanted to.
A/N: I never really thought into the Ginny/Tom relationship before because I just saw it as Ron's brat of a sister getting into trouble. And then I thought that, hey, Tom must have gotten really close to her because as much as I hate her, I have to admit that Ginny's a smart girl. She wouldn't fall into anyone's trap like that. And so I wrote about it.
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