Close enough to start a war. All that I have is on the floor.
Myrtle's bathroom. That's where I ended up. I'm not sure why, but it felt strangely familiar, though I hadn't been here before. I barge into the cubicle, dropping your diary, the one I've grown to hate, into the porcelain toilet bowl. You know everything about me, my every fear, and all my thoughts. You say that you'll help, that you'll tell me what to do, but you don't. All that's happened since I got this book is bad. Bits of memory gone. I wake up in places, and don't remember how I got there.
God only knows what we're fighting for.All that I say, you always say more.
I argue with you, tell you that your advice is getting me nowhere. You tell me it will, in the long run. You tell me how grateful I should be, for all your wonderful advice. I don't know why I'm arguing with you, or why I even respond. But I want to be your friend. I don't know who you are, but when we argue, you always make me see sense. And I'm sick of it.
I can't keep up with your turning tables,under your thumb, I can't breathe.
You keep changing your mind. One minute, I'm doing great, and we're making progress. The next, I need to do more. I need to find out more about Harry. What is it you want? What am I helping you with? You never told me. You just tell me what to do. People are getting suspicious. I can't keep making excuses, Tom.
So I won't let you close enough to hurt me.
I flush. You're not helping me, Tom. You're only getting me into trouble. You say you're my friend, but you're not. You know everything about me, and that scares me. You shouldn't know. You're connected to these bad things that are happening, I know it. You're so interested about how "they're going". You find it exciting when people are petrified and seem disappointed when they're not. You're a bad person, Tom Riddle.
No, I won't rescue, you to just desert me.
If I help you, and your plans work, what then? When you're gone. What'll happen to me? Because I don't think it'll be good. I think you're using me. I may only be eleven, but I can tell right from wrong. And this is bad. You're bad.
I can't give you, what you think you give me.
You think you are helping me, but you're not. I can't help you now. You're past help. Are you even alive? How do you talk to me? You never answer my questions. You just tell me I'm doing well, and to carry on, but for what? For Harry? For my brothers? You are not helping me. I can't help you with your plans. It's not right.
It's time to say goodbye to turning tables.
You change your mind all the time. I'm not doing it any more. I have no friends here, because my time is consumed by you. I can't tell anybody, what would I say? I'm so scared Tom, scared of what you're doing to me. Scared of what you're turning me into.
Under haunted skies I see you.
Bad things are happening at Hogwarts. We have to stay in the common room all the time, because it's not safe. Is this because of you? Is this part of your plan, because you seem pleased? When did you come to Hogwarts? The chamber was opened before, and someone died. Do you know who?
Where love is lost, your ghost is found.
Tom you're taking up too much of my time. It's not normal. I've fallen out with my brothers; they don't understand why I'm always so busy. Neither do I. Why are you doing this to me?
I braved a hundred storms to leave you.
I knew it was a stupid thing to do, to flush it. But I left you, Tom. If they found out it was me, I'd be in deep trouble. I don't ever want to see your wretched book again.
As hard as you try, no I will never be knocked down.
You can't hurt me. You can't control me anymore. I won't do your dirty work. Find somebody else to. Or rather, don't. Keep to yourself and stay inside your evil little book. I should write a warning and pin it on. Except you'll get rid of it. Have you ever spoken to anyone before?
Next time I'll be braver, I'll be my own saviour,when the thunder calls for me.
I shouldn't have believed you. I didn't need your help. Things have only gotten worse. I don't need anybody's help. I can deal with these things by myself.
Next time I'll be braver, I'll be my own saviour,standing on my own two feet.
I don't need anybody's help. They all look at me. They're all looking at me now. They pity me; I see it in their faces. Poor, stupid, little Ginny, taken over by a book. They don't know what to say. What can you say, to a girl possessed? This is your entire fault, Tom Riddle. Except you don't go by that name, do you? I hate you Voldemort.
