The diary sits on her bed, black and silent, as if it is watching her. Ginny is quiet, uncertain. At first, she told it everything, her thoughts, her fears, her hopes and dreams. When it began to reply, it was like she had found a new friend, a special friend just for her.
And it has been hard for her to find friends, away from home for the first time. She had been so excited to finally go to Hogwarts, and it had been so much better than she had ever imagined, but at the same time...
She had arrived with a reputation pre-made, thanks to the legion of brothers who had gone before her. A few of the kids in her year refused to even speak to her, in case she fot them in trouble. When she did try to start up a friendly conversation with someone who seemed nice, it seemed like someone was always there: one or both of the twins, teasing until the person she was talking to ran away, or Percy, being all official and driving people off with his lectures.
So the diary had been a welcome change, someone who she could always talk to, without being judged or mocked or abandoned. Now, though, she hasn't written in it for days, and she can feel the censure in its gaze. She had been feeling increasingly uncomfortable around it, although she wasn't entirely sure why, and finally, she had tried to get rid of it, flushing it down the toilet. She can't quite remember what happened - it's like something out of a dream - but now it's back in her possession, as if nothing ever happened. Sitting on her bed, waiting for her.
With a sigh that is half resignation, half dread, she opens the diary and begins to write.