Ginny Weasley spent the summer before her second year at Hogwarts learning what it was like to be a normal girl again. At first she thought she would never be forever abnormal—that Riddle had somehow damaged her beyond repair. For weeks she had terrible nightmares that would make her wake up drenched in a cold sweat, helpless to do anything but weep quietly into her pillow and hope that her mother didn't hear.
But Mum did hear. She always did. It didn't matter what hour of the night it was, she would come into Ginny's room and lay next to her in her small, narrow bed even though at twelve years old Ginny was much too old to be coddled. She would hold her and sing to her and whisper over and over again that she loved her while stroking her hair until she fell asleep, just as she had done when Ginny was a colicky baby. Most of the time Ginny would wake up with the scent of her mother's homemade soap lingering beside her, but on the bad nights when all Ginny could remember was him and what he'd made her do, she would stay with her all night long.
Ginny had forgotten what it felt like to be safely held in the arms of her mother. Riddle had made her forget as for months he successfully drove a wedge between her and the rest of the family, isolating her, writing over and over again how they didn't understand her, not like he did, encouraging her to trust none but him for comfort. He promised to protect her as her parents never could, and for a long time she had believed him. He was charming, and used his charms to successfully ensnare a young, defenseless girl who longed to find her place in the world.
Tom Riddle had made Ginny forget a great many things, and Ginny was ashamed to say that she let him do it.
Healing did not come easily, and for the first weeks after term the family treated her like a porcelain doll who would shatter into a thousand pieces at any moment. And maybe she was. She wasn't sleeping well despite her exhaustion, and the slightest provocation would send her into tears. Sometimes she would be surrounded by family on all sides and feel utterly alone, like she were a shipwreck victim drifting out at sea with no hope of rescue.
Flying helped, and whenever she could find a way to escape her mother's all-knowing eyes Ginny would nick one of the twin's brooms. She felt in control while she was flying, and after so long without feeling any control at all she drank in that sensation. She thought Dad saw her once, but if he did he never mentioned it, and that night Ginny made sure to hug him longer and tighter than she had in ages, saying thank you in the only way she knew how.
She would never forget the day Fred and George started teasing her again. Ginny was working on a Transfiguration assignment with Percy, so bored that she wished she could be out degnoming the garden instead. She had more homework than all her brothers combined, remedial work to help counteract the nearly failing grades she'd received because of Riddle's influence.
The twins had wandered down into the kitchen, covered in something that looked and smelled remarkably like gunpowder, when George made an inane comment that if she kept this up they'd be stuck with another prefect. It was a perfectly tame thing to say by George's standards, but to everyone's surprise it was Fred who told him to sod off and mind his own business.
In all her life Ginny had never seen Fred and George ever disagree on anything, and she laughed. She couldn't help it, and for some reason once she started she couldn't stop. Ginny hadn't laughed—truly laughed—in almost one calendar year. It felt good, warm, and it was at that moment the Weasley family knew that Ginny would be all right.
Ginny was listening to Ron regale tales of Egypt to Harry, wanting to speak up but not quite finding the courage to. She knew now that she didn't love Harry Potter, but she still admired him. He was the bravest, most selfless person she had ever met, and since seeing her again he hadn't brought up the Chamber once, or even look like he wanted to.
Most wizards would have bragged endlessly, or even written a book (a sudden memory of Professor Lockheart flashed through her mind, and Ginny shuddered), but Harry never did. He didn't tell her how foolish she'd been to trust an enchanted diary, nor watch over her endlessly for signs of a sort of relapse. No, Harry was just Harry, smiling a little when he saw her while he asked what she thought of Egypt.
There was something real about Harry that Tom Riddle could never replicate. Ginny couldn't quite put her finger on what exactly that was, but she decided she liked it. She liked it a lot.
The first trouble came when the train came to a halt. The lights flickered out, and a sudden coldness permeated the air. Ginny felt something tugging at the darkness within her, and she remembered all at once the horrible feeling she'd had after she realized who Tom Riddle really was. Numbness spread throughout her chest, her stomach clenched, and Ginny felt like she was going to throw up. A distant part of her heard someone scream, but she couldn't tell who it was. It might even have been her.
Every bad memory of the past year came flooding back unbidden. Once again Ginny could feel it as she poured her soul out to the one friend she thought she had, only for it to be cruelly stolen away from her. She remembered how afraid she was after waking up with rooster's feathers stuck to the front of her robes without knowing why, the months of feeling ill and melancholy that only got worse as time went on until she felt like she was going to have a nervous breakdown, the utter betrayal that ripped her heart to shreds when Riddle decided he could control her enough to drop all pretenses.
Ginny felt fear and helplessness. She was sitting in the dark alone save for the demon that haunted her past, the nightmares coming back stronger than ever to destroy the happiness she was just beginning to find again. Once again Tom Riddle made her forget, and Ginny wished she could die.
As suddenly as it started, it was over. The new professor everyone assumed to be asleep cast a spell, and something silvery and warm burst from the end of his wand, chasing the darkness away. Ginny didn't hear as he gave an explanation as to what just happened and made sure they ate a section of chocolate. They were all most worried about Harry, who apparently had fallen over during all the commotion. Ginny was glad. While they were making sure he was all right no one saw the twin tears streak down her face, the trauma left by Tom Riddle's diary nearer to the surface than it had been in months, raw and heavy and painful.
It would be another sleepless night, and never in her life had Ginny wanted her mother more.
AN: Been listening to the Harry Potter audiobooks, which in turn caused me to reread the fic The Very Secret Diary, which portrays The Chamber of Secrets from Ginny's view. Excellently written and chilling, it's definitely a recommended read (I don't think it's on fanfiction . net anywhere, but you can find it on archiveofourown). This led to a moment of fridge horror during the beginning of the Prisoner of Azkaban when I realized that if dementors affected Harry so horribly because of his worst memory, then when they showed up on the train Ginny must have gone through pure hell.
I also apologize for any misappropriated Britishisms. I'm extremely American, and my only understanding of the English comes from BBC productions, Agatha Christie novels, and listening to Harry Potter on YouTube.