Ginny looked around her, taking in her surroundings. How had she got here? She was only in her first year, so was still figuring her way around, but she had a feeling that this was not normal behaviour, all this not remembering what had just happened.
Her thoughts wondered over the diary in her cloak pocket. No, she thought. Not the diary. It couldn't be. Could it? She trusted that diary. It wrote back to her. It's name was Tom. She suspected it was nothing more than a bewitched object. She told that diary almost everything. Her feelings for Harry Potter, her brother's friend, how she was fed up with being teased by her brothers and how everyone suspected she was so weak. The diary sympathised and Ginny found it, Tom, rather charming. She rarely didn't write in it. But she'd realised that the more she wrote in the diary, the more frequent the memory losses of where she'd just been became. Just a week before, there'd been some writing, presumably written in blood, outside an out of order girl's toilet. It read:
The Chamber of Secrets had been opened. Enemies of the heir, beware.
And Ginny had found herself with feathers and red paint down her robes. The diary, when she'd confided, found it merely amusing. She told him that she thought she was going mad, losing her mind. He'd sympathised slightly, but couldn't hide his amusement. She had felt the diary was gaining some weird power over her... If that was even possible. She took a deep breath. Don't be stupid, she told herself, relaxing. Then she remembered all the times she had found herself in weird places, without remembering how she got there. Ginny suddenly made a decision. She ran to the out of order girl's toilets, flung open the door of the cubicle, threw the book in the toilet with a splash and flushed the chain. Then she ran out, tears pricking her eyes. She thought she'd heard a scream, but didn't pause to think, she just kept running until she reached the common room.
She couldn't believe it. Harry had her diary. She needed to get it back. So she waited in the common room, until Harry, Ron and Hermione had left Gryffindor Tower and the rest of the boys from Harry's dorm had come down.
She tiptoed up the stairs, glancing around her. To her great relief, she saw nor met anyone on the way up. She slowly pushed open the door and looked around the cirular room. She found Harry's bed and began searching madly through his things. She'd made a rather large mess once she finally grasped the black diary with her small, determined hand.
She then scarpered, banging the door behind her. How had Harry got hold of her diary? Then it dawned on her. Nothing to do with how Harry had got the diary, nothing to do with Harry at all. What if she was the one who had wrote on the wall, after all, she had red paint down her front... Or was it paint? She'd reached her dorm by now. She placed her ear to the door and listened carefully. It was empty. She burst in, sitting down on her bed, placing her hands in her head. She felt a tear slide down her face. Why her?
"I have to tell Ron and Harry," she whispered, sniffing and wiping her tears.