I got the idea from this story awhile back from a fic I don't remember the name or author of, and so I'm super sorry, but I can't give credit. If you think I got it from you feel free to send me a very angry review and I'll fix it, again sorry
Snapped. Just like that she snapped. While everyone around her was shocked, and dumbfounded trying to comprehend what had just gone on, or else were rejoicing, as they realized that the Dark Lord was gone, Voldermort was gone. There was a sense of relief, and people knew that he was not coming back, somehow knew that he really was gone.
She was present, and fully aware of what was going on, she could hear people saying it "Voldermort is dead" or else "Voldermort is gone", and someone were even just chanting the name showing that they were no longer scared of it.
She could hear people recounting the events, and thinking how cool it was going to be, to be interviewed by The Daily Prophet, which they undoubtedly would be, only a handful of the wizarding world had seen it happen, and fewer still were able to rejoice in it. Others were attempting to flee, realizing that is caught they would be sent to Azkaban.
Yet as Ginny was aware of all of this , she was somehow also very far away, in a different time. She was in the first year girls' dormitories, inspecting a journal she had found. A blank journal, except for the words Tom Marvolo Riddle written on the inside cover. She was writing to the journal a few months later pouring her soul onto the pages, as it wrote back to her, gave her advice, a listening ear.
Then she remembered things she had never remembered before, yet she knew they were true memories, knew they were hers, knew they were too powerful to be a spell, or a figment of her own imagination. She was writing with blood in the halls of the castle late at night, but who's blood? She felt fine, wasn't hurt. Then as she looked down she saw Mrs. Norris Filch's cat hanging from a hook, and realized it was her blood in which she was writing.
Then another unknown yet familiar memory, walking into the girl's bathroom, the one in which Moaning Myrtle dwelled, walking up to one of the sinks that sat in a circle in the middle of the room, she said something in a strange language, one she did not understand, yet when she said it the sink sunk down into the floor to reveal a passageway.
On and on the memories went, all the way up to when Voldermort died, then the cycle would start over, with the familiar scene in the dormitories.
She was still vaguely aware of what was going on around her, and as the people gathered in the great hall, as food began being brought in by the hous-elfs, as people began to eat, the slide show playing in the back of her mind.