'I wrote in the diary the very night I found it. I wrote about Diagon Alley and the fight, about buying my school things…and Harry visiting for the summer. I wrote about two pages and stopped, and then my ink disappeared. He wrote back to me.'

'He, being?'

'Tom Riddle. I had no idea it was really Voldemort,' Ginny forced herself to say, determined to say his name. She continued. 'It was exciting. I had been really nervous about going to Hogwarts, about making friends there, and when Tom told me he knew all about Hogwarts I was relieved. I was so relieved I stopped questioning anything about the diary. I spent the rest of the summer writing to him. By the time I left for Hogwarts I'd already made a friend.'

'Did you normally have trouble making friends?'

'No, not particularly. But I already knew so much about the castle that making friends was easy. Everything was fine for a while. Tom was a great listener,' she laughed uneasily. 'He was my best friend. He encouraged me, he gave me tips on all my classes, made me feel confident. But he turned strange. He had already made me promise not to tell anyone about him, and then to stop writing home. Then to stop talking to my friends. He'd say horrible things like they didn't really like me at all. That they were talking about me behind my back, that he was my only real friend…'

Ginny trailed off, realising she had just shared more about her twisted relationship with Tom than she had ever shared before, even to her mum. And now she was seeing it from a whole other perspective, reliving it with the benefit of age and experience. It was no wonder Voldemort had managed to manipulate her so deeply. It wasn't that she was feeble or weak minded, but that he quickly isolated her and trained her to rely only on him…she'd never understood that until now.

'The more he said things like that the more I started to think it was true, so I did what he told me to do. And he kept reminding me to write to him. That's when I started having black outs. Even before anything bad started happening to other people I would find myself somewhere in the castle, and I didn't know how I got there.'

'What was causing those black outs?' Scrimgeour prompted.

She felt annoyed with him all over again, because Scrimgeour knew perfectly well what was causing them. But he wanted her to say it explicitly.

'He was possessing me. The more I wrote to him the easier it became. At least, I think that's how it worked.'

'Did you understand what was happening?'

She shook her head. 'No. When I told Tom he convinced me I was confused, that I was overreacting. After Mrs Norris was attacked I told him again, but he said I was imagining things, and I trusted him. Even after Colin was attacked I trusted him. But then Justin and Nick were attacked, and I…'

For a second time Ginny trailed off mid-sentence. Emotion was welling up inside her, unbidden and unwelcome. The gut wrenching fear she felt back then returned for just a split second. The way she had doubted herself, the certainty that she must have done something terrible, but also the steadfast belief that what Tom was telling her was the truth. He would have never lied to her…not her best friend.

'What was your first indication that you had something to do with these attacks?'

Ginny cleared her throat, taking another sip of tea and mentally shaking off the horrible feeling inside her. None of that was her fault.

'Justin and Nick,' she repeated. 'I couldn't remember what happened that night. I already knew I had killed two of Hagrid's roosters, and the black outs kept getting worse. This time when I asked Tom about it he stopped reassuring me. Instead he started asking more and more about Harry. He kept wanting information - demanding it. And he would become really mean when I couldn't tell him anything new. When I finally confronted him, he admitted it.'

'What did he admit?'

She reached down for her tea again, but she faltered when she saw how little was left. Shit…she glanced at the tea pot, wishing it would pour more, that she could keep having a reason to stop what she was saying, to catch up with her mind. But before she knew it she was speaking again, unable to stop.

'That he made me do it. He admitted he forced me open the Chamber of Secrets and let the Basilisk out. He said if I told anyone that they wouldn't believe me, that people would think I hated Muggle-Borns.' There was a painful lump forming in her throat, one she forced herself to speak over. 'That mum and dad would never forgive me.'

The silence that came now should have been a blessing - it should have allowed her to collect herself and carry on. But instead she felt herself spiralling, her mind taking her back to that terrible night when Tom admitted what he had done to her. All too vividly she reminded sitting on her four poster bed with the diary in her lap, trembling while he taunted her and realisation came crashing down. She was responsible for what happened to those people, she was the one hurting Muggle-Borns. And she would never be able to prove her innocence.

My fault.

Those words had reverberated in her head that whole night, for the many hours she lay in bed with tears in her eyes, still clutching the very diary that had caused her this pain. It was frightening to feel those memories coming back to her now, emotions she hadn't confronted for a very long time. After it happened she worked through it all and then set aside that part of her life in order to move on. Except it was all still there, waiting.

Simmering right below the surface were the words she would never utter out loud. Not to a friend or boyfriend, not even to her mum - the truth of the awful heartbreak she felt the night her best friend in the whole world betrayed her. While people lay in the hospital wing she cried out of heartbreak as well as fear. That shameful knowledge sickened her, that she had become so encompassed by Tom Riddle that his betrayal was as upsetting as the fact she had hurt someone.

'Tom turned everything back on me. Told me it was my fault. That he only attacked those people because I wanted him to. And he kept saying he was the only one looking out for me. I didn't know whether or not to believe him.'

Madam Bones muttered something under her breath, and when Ginny looked up at her she repeated herself more clearly. 'We know that You Know Who is highly adept at manipulation. What he did to you is particularly sinister, but you ought not hold it against yourself.'

Ginny nodded in agreement, another instance in which age and time helped her see the experience differently. 'Yes. He was really good. I couldn't talk to anyone else but him, so I guess I had to believe him...if I didn't have him, I had no one. Even after what he told me I couldn't stop writing to him. I tried to stop,' she clarified. 'I even threw the diary into the fireplace, but it didn't burn.'

'Were you ever able to fight back against the Tom Riddle's possession of you?' Scrimgeour asked, posing his question quite gently.

'Once. I could see he was making me open the chamber again. I don't know how I did it, but I managed to stop myself.' She paused again, laughing for a moment. 'I tried to flush the diary down a toilet.'

When the corner of Scrimgeour's mouth twitched she knew he wasn't laughing at her, but rather with her. She laughed again. It sounded so silly that she had tried to flush Lord Voldemort down the toilet.

'Once the diary was gone everything went back to normal,' she said, and as she said these words it felt like she did back then. The huge sense of relief felt like it was right there in front of her, the lightness that gave her solace for many weeks. 'I stopped blacking out. I went back to my friends, I started writing home again. And the attacks stopped.'

'So what changed?' Scrimgeour asked, knowing that wasn't the end of her story.

'The diary came back. I never asked how, but Harry found it.' She took a deep breath, embarrassed to find her voice getting shaky again. 'I got scared that Tom would hurt him next. Or that he'd tell him what I had done.' She glanced at the typewriter now, second guessing what she was going to say next…oh what the hell? 'I was worried he'd tell Harry I fancied him. But Harry wasn't acting any different, so I convinced myself everything was still okay. But after I few weeks it was like Tom was in my head again all over again. Voldemort,' she added, saying the name again as if to reinforce that against him she was truly blameless.

'It wasn't like before. This time it was like I could hear him, and I started feeling obsessed with the diary all over again. I tried really hard to resist, but I stole the diary back. I didn't even clean up the mess I made in Harry's dormitory, I just started writing to Tom straight away. I couldn't stop myself. The next day it happened again, to Hermione and Penelope.' She didn't say the words they were attacked, it was too painful even now. 'I wanted to do something, but every time I thought about telling someone, Tom knew. It was like he was inside me, like he could read my mind. I didn't even have to write in the diary for him to know, not that I could stop myself anyway,' she added bitterly. 'It's sick, but…he was my best friend again.'

Madam Bones blinked at this, peering at her. 'He was your friend again?'

Ginny nodded, trying to ignore the shame that came with this acknowledgement. 'It was easier when I let him be my friend. When I wasn't resisting him, he wasn't mean. When I wasn't thinking about telling someone, he was nice to me. That lasted for a couple of weeks until Professor McGonagall told us the Mandrakes were ready. That everyone who was petrified would be woken up, and they could tell us…they wouldn't have known I had anything to do with it, but I was terrified.'

She thought back to that moment at breakfast, on that day. While everyone was overjoyed she had been filled with horror - it literally felt like the sky was falling, like her whole world was coming down - somehow everyone would know what she had done. Her whole family would be ruined, she'd be expelled, probably sent to Azkaban. Mum and Dad would never forgive her for hurting other people, but especially for hurting Muggle-Borns.

'I knew I had to tell someone before Tom could stop me, I tried to tell my brother Ron. But we got interrupted, and I lost my nerve. And then it was too late. Tom wouldn't risk giving me another chance to tell anyone. He started possessing me straight away, and I could see what he was making me do. I knew he was going to kill me. He made me leave another message, and then he took me down into the Chamber of Secrets.

'Once I was down there he let me go, and I saw him for the first time. He looked like he did at Hogwarts, but he seemed like a ghost...real, but not actually real. I could feel it happening,' she said cryptically. She couldn't say the words I could feel myself dying, not in front of her mum. 'It didn't hurt, it was just like going to sleep. Next thing I knew I was waking up and Harry was there. He and Ron came down to the Chamber of Secrets to get me. If they hadn't, Tom would have killed me.'

When she took a moment to collect her thoughts everyone else remained quiet. She looked at Bones and Scrimgeour, wondering what they might be thinking. Neither of them looked particularly surprised by the story they had just heard, but Ginny didn't mistake this for indifference. Hers can't have been the first story they had heard from a victim of dark magic, and nor would it be the last. She glanced down at her lap, noticing that now it was her holding her mum's hand, comforting her instead of the other way around. It can't have been easy hearing again the story of how her daughter nearly died.

Bones gently cleared her throat, breaking the silence with her next question. 'What would you say the impact has been on you, Ginny?'

Having dreaded this question she grit her teeth. She knew exactly what the impact on her was, she'd spent years quietly working her way through it. The premature break from childhood, the realisation that there were truly dark and cruel people in the world, that at eleven years old she already knew what it was to be dying. She didn't vocalise those thoughts much, except in the quiet summer evenings when she and mum sat together in the garden drinking cups of tea and watching the sun go down.

But hidden between all the things she had said were those she never told anyone. That sometimes when she was falling asleep she would jerk awake, terrified for a split second that she was dying, back in the Chamber while Tom drained the life out of her. That while she loved friends like Demelza this was not something she could ever share with her. That she didn't trust easily - in her head she was always halfway out the door, prepared for any kind of relationship to turn bad. That she was prepared to cut someone out of her life if she needed to protect herself.

'I really don't think I will ever really get over what happened.'

Her answer was blunt, and to the point. It said all there was to say. The notion that she was over it and had moved on was a lie she told herself, a lie that helped her resume normal life. But Tom Riddle was always there in the back of her mind. Three years had passed, and he continued to lay dormant in the back of her mind.

Bones and Scrimgeour nodded their heads slowly, and after exchanging a glance it seemed they were ready to move on. 'We believe you, Ginny,' Bones began. 'We believe that you are telling the truth.'

Scrimgeour nodded in agreement, continuing. 'The challenging part will be proving that Lucius Malfoy is the one who gave you the diary. Proving that he knew it possessed dark magic that would do you harm, and that he intended for it to open the Chamber of Secrets in order to murder Muggle-Born students.'

Ginny narrowed her eyes, making her displeasure quite clear. 'Why don't you just arrest him now and prove it later? You clearly know what he is. You know he's supporting Voldemort, you know what he did to Harry.'

Scrimgeour nodded patiently. 'To arrest Mr Malfoy now would be premature.'

'Right,' she muttered, still dissatisfied with the answer. She'd heard much the same comment from Harry, that the Ministry was sitting on their hands doing nothing, claiming it wasn't time yet. 'You should talk to a House Elf named Dobby. He'll tell you everything. He knew Malfoy was planning to open the Chamber of Secrets, he even tried to stop Harry from going back to school.'

Madam Bones gave her a warm smile that felt a little condescending. 'I'm afraid that a House Elf would never make such a statement against their master.'

'I know that. Malfoy isn't his master anymore, he was freed. Dobby works here now, at Hogwarts.'

'A House Elf?'

Ginny narrowed her eyes again, turning to Scrimgeour now. She knew what people were like, especially certain generations. Bones and Scrimgeour probably wouldn't think that a House Elf would be a credible witness.

'If you want evidence talk to Dobby. Otherwise you're just wasting your time with me. I can't prove anything that Malfoy did.'

'I disagree that we have wasted our time,' Bones said kindly. 'Hearing your story has been most enlightening. Thank you, Ginny.'

That was it. Exchanging parting pleasantries Madam Bones and Scrimgeour prepared to leave, Scrimgeour ripping the long sheet of parchment out of the typewriter and then signing it, passing it to Madam Bones to sign next. There was no fuss as they departed, the wooden chair disappearing at the same time as the typewriter. A loud thud of the back door announced their departure, and Ginny breathed a great sigh of relief.

'Well done, love,' her mum said, squeezing her hand.

'Thanks Mum.'

Automatically she began to clear away the tea set and cups, tidying up their mess while her mum plumped the cushions and straightened the living room. It felt awkward between them for a few moments, the impact of her full testimony lingering between them unacknowledged, but only for a short while. While the tea set began cleaning itself in Hagrid's sink she turned to her mum, gratefully accepting the warm embrace that had comforted her many times over. Her mum was talking, her voice muffled, but she got the gist of it.

'…brave of you to tell them all that. How do you feel?'

'Glad,' she said automatically, the first that came to mind. Her mum released her, holding her gaze as she explained further. 'I'm glad I told them.'

'We hoped you would feel that way.'

Ginny nodded, more to herself than to her mum. 'Who knows? Maybe Malfoy will actually pay for what he did.'

There was much more to say, but right now Ginny wasn't up for it. Instead it would come in bits and pieces, perhaps over the summer as they spent the evening together, or perhaps in her letters home which sometimes turned from a standard recount of her schooling to an outpouring from the heart. If anything positive had come from her first year it was the relationship with her parents, the rock solid understanding that she could rely on and trust them without question.

Ginny and her mum stepped outside to see Bones, Scrimgeour, Hagrid and Fang lingering by the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Meanwhile Ron was still by the pumpkin patch, hurriedly folding the Marauders Map that he must have tried to sneak a peak of. Good thinking, Ginny thought to herself. The last thing mum needed after hearing all that was to see another of her children with an inanimate object that could think for itself. Besides, if she knew Sirius had anything to do with its creation she'd probably hit the roof.

'I'd best be off dears,' her mum said, indicating to the group who were clearing waiting for her. 'Hagrid's escorting us to where we can apparate. Professor Umbridge mustn't know we were here.'

'Do you know anything about Harry?' Ron urgently asked, still stuffing the Marauders Map into his bag. 'We've only had one letter, weeks ago.'

'He's alright. He's with Sirius.'

'That doesn't mean he's alright.'

Her mum took sympathy on them and so paused a moment, considering her answer. 'I've heard he's doing much better. School work is all up to date, and he's getting some peace and quiet.'

Ron did not seem reassured. 'Him and Sirius alone…they'll starve to death.'

'I've been sending meals, I assure you he's being well fed. Don't you worry about him, he's getting back on his feet. I'd best be off,' she said, hugging each of them in turn, and then again a second time. 'Don't forget to write home, please.'

Standing by her brother's side Ginny watched as her mum departed, hurrying over to Hagrid and the others. It felt very strange to watch their mother walk straight into the Forbidden Forrest without a care, fully trusting that she was safe enough with the assurances of Hagrid and Fang, not to mention the seasoned Auror by her side.

As she left Ginny felt emotion welling up, and she was explicitly conscious that she had waited for her mum to leave before allowing this to happen. She didn't want to upset her, to show her how difficult that whole process had been, and as she watched her disappear into the trees she had to physically resist the impulse to shout out for her.

Instead she tried to say something to Ron, something lighthearted or funny that would distract herself, but there was another lump in her throat growing in size. Her lips shook as she blinked quickly, trying to collect herself while tears brimmed in her eyes.

Perhaps Ron wasn't as emotionally stunted as they all thought, because as their mum departed he put his arm around her shoulder. Like a cauldron spilling over she began to cry, tears streaming from her eyes as she began to shake, and then Ron was hugging her. She put her arms around his waist and held tightly, anchoring herself and letting him be a familiar source of comfort. Were it Hermione or any other girl he probably would have been an awkward fumbling idiot, but not with his sister. Neither of them remembered a time in life when they didn't have one another. In her first year it was Ron who she tried to go to for help, and after it was him who stayed by her side the most.

But still, when her tears subsided and they parted she roughly pushed herself out of his embrace. 'If you tell anyone I cried I will hex your arse to oblivion.'

'Yeah yeah, alright,' he complained, looking offended she even had to threaten him. He was quiet for a moment, looking down at her in concern. 'Kind of forgot how bad this all was. Sorry.'

Ginny shrugged, hastily wiping her face as she took a shuddered breath. The painful lump in her throat was still there, but it began to ease. 'It's alright. I forgot too.'

'Did you forget? Or were you doing what Harry does?'

This wasn't a joke or lighthearted quip, but a genuine question. Ginny nodded yes, not needing to ask what it was Harry did. It wasn't much to guess that he put his trauma into the very back of his mind and pretended it wasn't there. That he tried to go about life pretending he was already over it, that it never happened. She suspected he did all those things because she did them too.

Wiping her face again she collected her broomstick and Quidditch bag, and then Ron followed suit before they fell into step alongside one another. Up at the castle chaos would be reigning, but the two of them stayed well out of it and headed for the Quidditch pitch, solidifying their alibi.

'I'm sorry for calling you a wanker,' she apologised, meaning it. 'And for calling you a prat. And a gormless pillock.'

'You never called me a gormless pillock.'

Ginny looked at him apologetically. 'Not to your face.'

To her relief Ron began to laugh, his cheeks flushing pink in amusement rather than annoyance. Eagerly embracing the change in atmosphere the two of them dissolved into laughter and pushed and shoved one another all the way down to the Quidditch pitch. They were not the only ones there, but they snuck around the stands to the other end and then swiftly mounted their brooms, tossing the Quaffle back and forth a few times before moving up to the hoops so Ron could practice defence. Anyone who might see them there couldn't be certain of when they had arrived, solidifying both their alibi for where they were when the twins's chaos unfolded at the castle.

Hours later the school was still abuzz with excitement. It was clear already that Fred and George had just become the stuff of Hogwarts legend, the two students who ditched out of school two months before their final exams leaving chaos in their wake, but not before telling Umbridge to get stuffed.

Ginny did not pass up the opportunity for some comic relief. That afternoon she took pleasure in allowing Luna to give her the tour of the swamp, laughing at her weird descriptions of the plants and wildlife, and her airy recount of Fred and George's plight. It must have been over an hour she hung out on the fifth floor while McGonagall and Flitwick feigned ignorance over how to deal with the swamp, while Filch came to the realisation he was going to have to punt students back and forth until the situation was sorted.

There was an air of excitement among the castle that evening, Fred and George's spectacular departure feeling like a declaration of war. Night had barely fallen before a spate of Dungbomb attacks broke out, all of which seemed to be located near or around Umbridge's office and living quarters. Meanwhile Peeves had already taken up the position of Troublemaker-in-Chief, spending most of dinner floating above Umbridge blowing loud raspberries every time she took a bite of food.

As exciting as the aftermath was Ginny wished she could have witnessed Fred and George's return home to the Burrow and the explanation they would have given to mum and dad. She could only imagine the tension as the four of them sat down to their first dinner together, that was presuming mum hadn't sent them both to bed with nothing to eat (perhaps the worst punishment a Weasley child could suffer).

After a glorious hour at dinner watching Peeves taunting Umbridge, Ginny had retired to the library for the evening. It came at Michael's suggestion, for after an afternoon spent recounting Fred and George's departure he needed to refocus himself on preparing for his O.W.L exams. He was focused on his Potions work that night, determined he was going to make it into Snape's N.E.W.T class even if it killed him - and with nothing better to do Ginny had tagged along to keep him company, though she hadn't particularly felt like it.

It wasn't fair, particularly when he'd been nothing but a fun, decent and loyal boyfriend…but Ginny knew it was time to end things with Michael.

From the corner of her eye she observed him as he drew a flow-chart in his notes, respectful of his efforts to study. Michael was decent and loyal, never once had she heard him disparaging Harry's story or gossiping. Yet more and more she found herself internally critical of him, itching for a reason to dump him. It was unkind to break up with someone just because she was bored of them, and so she was hanging on until such a time that she either changed her mind or found a good enough reason.

Though she had joined Michael on the pretence of doing her own homework her head was not in it. Being in the library was normally a good motivator to get some work done. The setting was right, there was no temptation to kick back and relax, to joke around and find something to distract herself with…but after the day she'd had she couldn't focus. Not even the sight of Michael diligently working served as motivation. With something else in mind she quietly collected her books and prepared to move away.

Michael looked up as she stood, his brow furrowing. 'Something wrong?'

Ginny quickly looked around, expecting Madam Pince to come swooping down on them for talking at a normal volume. 'Nothing,' she whispered, using her head to indicate towards one of the cushy armchairs near a fireplace. 'Just going over there.'

With a short nod Michael turned back to his work, already focused again. Taking leave she crept over to an armchair and sank down. Instantly she was as comfortable and relaxed as she felt in the Gryffindor common room, just without the noise and distractions. She tucked her feet beneath herself, getting comfortable with a textbook balanced on her knee and notebook resting on the arm of the chair.

Filling her quill with ink she settled in, but she had absolutely no intention of studying that night. Instead she stared at the blank sheet of parchment torn from her notebook, poised to write as soon as she knew what she wanted to say.

She was itching to talk to someone...someone in particular. After sharing her story to Madam Bones and Scrimgeour there was a lot on her mind, and this was one of those occasional instances in which she wanted to share with someone. But Hermione was busy elsewhere, and Demelza was at Gobstones Club, not that this was a subject for her. And as for Michael...

She glanced up at him, feeling a familiar surge of guilt. Michael was keenly focused on his Potions work, but if she interrupted him to talk about something important he would have listened. He was a good person, she wouldn't be dating him were he not, and he would listen to her emotional brain dump with care and sympathy.

But still…she had long ago decided Michael wasn't going to be any more than a boyfriend meant for fun. He wasn't someone she would get close to, even though they'd been dating since the end of her third year. The notion of sharing something real and personal with him just didn't sit right. Michael would sympathise, would share her anger and support her…but he would never truly understand. And honestly, she knew the truth of it - she would never give Michael the chance to become close to her in any way that mattered.

At this thought Ginny felt a surge of guilt again, one so strong she had to look away from Michael all together, because at the notion of letting someone become truly close to her, her thoughts went straight to Harry. She admittedly only to herself (and sometimes Hermione) that she still fancied him. Except now it was entirely different to how she fancied him when she was young. Before it was a childish infatuation, a crush on the famous Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. Now she could genuinely say it was Harry she fancied.

Regardless, even if she were single she would not have done anything about it. Right now was definitely not the time, especially for Harry.

For a long time she had wanted to get closer to him, a want completely unrelated to the fact she still fancied him. She wanted to be a friend he could talk to...and selfishly, she wanted to talk to him too because finally there was someone who might understand what she had been through. Someone who had a similar experience, who might know how it felt both when it happened and after. There was no reason they couldn't help each other, right?

But she had always felt a little on the back foot when it came to him. He had so many people around him already that trying to be there for him would have felt like forcing her way in, like an attempt to push others aside. Invading where she wasn't wanted or needed would not help either of them. So instead she had tried to help in other ways, becoming one of the biggest believers in the DA, publicly supporting his story with pride, being willing to punch the lights out of any idiot who wanted to have a go at him, even if they were bigger than her and could hit back twice as hard. She was lucky that bruise healed long before mum saw her…

With her quill poised at her notebook Ginny made a silent apology to Michael. It wasn't like she was cheating on him or anything, but she didn't get the feeling he'd like what she was doing right now. But she couldn't change the way she felt...she had tried.

Dear Harry.

She paused and waited. It was a ritual she did sometimes, something to ground herself. The ink did not disappear. No one wrote back to her.

She was still safe.

A/N Thanks for the awesome reviews, thank you thank you so much!

Next weekend is going to be chaotic for me, I will try my best to post a chapter during the week, and one during next week too. If you're subscribed you should get notifications.