And so it begins…

I knew they'd come for me. I knew that someday, someday they would realize just what they had lost. I can hear them talk in hushed tones across the room from me, huddled together and excluding everyone else. They acted as if they were the only people in the universe, the ones that the whole world depending on them. And so they have been told repeatedly, by those who still believe Lord Voldemort to be the biggest threat this world has ever seen.

Lord Voldemort. Don't make me laugh. That fool has been a puppet for years, controlled by powers greater then their pathetic little Order can ever imagine. Used for stringing around the Boy Who Lived and all his followers, it was only a game. To see how their faces fell when they realized that Voldemort was just a weak follower himself, and that there wasn't anything that they could do to stop the world from being smothered by darkness. A darkness that I helped to create.

But it had always been a part of me, woken when Tom first contacted me. The ideas he had, his plans, they addicted me and drew me in, making me feel more welcome then anyone had ever done. So I gladly opened the chamber. I gladly attacked the mudbloods polluting the school, and I willingly followed Tom down to the chamber when he was strong enough, like a sacrificial lamb. I was still weak then, and felt honoured to be the half blood's chosen servant. And in that moment of carelessness, I think that I even fell in love with the memory of dark, brooding Tom Riddle. The only person that I had ever met that I felt a connection to. Someone that didn't shy away from my morbid thoughts, or turn a blind eye to my gathering darkness like my family.

But then Harry Potter had to come in and wreck it. Charging through the murky chamber like a hero, killing the only friend I had in the world. Everyone praised him again, my family thanking him for saving my life. Expecting me to thank him as well, thank him for dragging me back out into a world where I didn't belong, and did not wish to be.

My family talked about me then. Late into the evenings, when they thought that I would not hear. Whispering fears they had about me, about 'poor little Ginny' who was possessed by Lord Voldemort. They didn't even bother to find out the events from my perceptive.

So I withdrew into myself, having no real friends and no company. My grades were passable, as I tried to get away with as little work as possible. Even the teachers weren't bothered to find out my potential. In their opinion, I would never amount to anything else but Ron's little sister. If only they knew how wrong they were.

So I found comfort in always being alone, and used the time to good measure. I almost never slept, sneaking around the Hogwarts grounds after everyone else was fast asleep. Getting a kick from almost banging into teachers, and lifting forbidden books off forbidden shelves in the library, opening their pages and filling myself of their dark secrets. And once I started to immerse myself in the Dark Arts, I knew I could never stop again. It became my lifelines, something to look forward to as each day droned on and on. A secret that no-one would guess that I was hiding.

Well, almost no-one. Year after year of pretending slogged by, and I grew slowly more powerful. Nobody that was supposed to be close to me noticed- they didn't want to notice. But others did, and it drew in interest around me. Boys started to want to date me, and date them I did for a while. But they soon bored me, and I tossed them aside in favour of a new plaything, only to scrap that one when the time came. They were all so boring, and all so similar.

When Ron found out, he went ballistic. It was almost worth all those dates to see the colour that his face turned, his fists locked into tight balls, nails cutting into his skin. He still treated me like a baby, though I was halfway through my fifth year, and certainly didn't look like a little girl. To my delight I soon had curves, emphasized by a slender body I kept toned from hour after hour of quidditch, traversing the silent skies on my own and rejoicing in the way the wind kissed my cheeks as I sped by. On a broom, I felt absolutely invincible.

But it wasn't until the summer that year until something interesting happened. Going into Diagon Alley to meet a Luna I hadn't even told to come, I soon found myself in the heart of Knockturn alley, a maze of streets that I knew so well by then. A dark cloak covered me, the hood pulled almost over my eyes to cover my tell-tale red hair. Afterall, I didn't want my family or…acquaintances to know what I was truly like. It was so much more fun putting on a mask and pretending, fooling everyone around. I doubt even Dumbledore knew- though maybe he did. He always was a trusting old fool, and probably thought that my 'games' would come to nothing.

Maybe they would have stayed as simple games, things that would never hurt anyone, if I had never gone to Knockturn alley that way. If the fierce wind had not whipped off my hood and exposed my hair, teasing the strands for all to see. If many pairs of eyes had not turned in my direction, though one more piercing then the rest.

Draco Malfoy. I had always been brought up to think of him as an arrogant bastard, and I suppose I still did. I scowled at him, but he only smirked in reply, sauntering over to me with a grace I could never acquire.

"Why, Weasley, what are you doing down here? Didn't your parents ever warn you of the dangers? Then again, I suppose if something did happen to you then it would only be one less mouth to feed."

His smirk fell slightly as I just regarded him silently, hands crossed defensively across my chest, and my hip pushed out away from him. It didn't hurt, and it was probably true. If I did go missing, then it would take weeks before anyone realized I was even gone.

"Cat got your tongue? Or did your precious Potter warn you not to speak to bad old Malfoy?"

The reference to Potter got me riled though, as it always did when someone mentioned my name and his in the same sentence. Everyone had believed that I had a crush on him, simply from not being able to speak when I was around them. It was because I detested him, not because I found the idiot fanciable. So I whipped my hand around, slapping Malfoy squarely across the jaw, my own smirk beginning as his flickered out of existence, his eyes full of confusion.

"Don't speak of things that little boys don't understand, Malfoy. Or assume that I make an easy target. Otherwise you might find yourself unable to make any assumptions again."

I choked back a laugh as I moved off, still leaving Malfoy speechless behind me, for it would have ruined my cold as ice routine. It would teach him to think my silence meant weakness, or that my previous inaction had meant weakness. I just hadn't been bothered to do anything about it.

But unfortunately for me, at that time, he refused to leave me alone as term once again started, constantly jabbing and annoying me. For the most part I ignored him, though sometimes rewarding him with a flicker of action. It kept him coming, and the Ferret started to interest me. He certainly wasn't all he appeared to be.

So began my strange friendship with Draco. He wasn't such a strong supporter of Voldemort, as others had always believed of him, though he did share the same ideas and principles. But Draco Malfoy was not going to be caught kneeling to a half blood, a wizard that shouldn't have even been part of his notice. And my viewpoints soon mirrored his, for the world would be a better place if purebloods were at the top. Half bloods and mud bloods just polluted blood lines that should be kept crystal clean.

But there was another thing that drew me to him. He was as dark as I, maybe even darker. He had been brought up with as much knowledge about The Arts as he wanted, while I had been forced to scrounge the few weak books that Hogwarts held, occasionally buying one myself when I had the money. Yet Draco was willing to teach me, and he did, teaching me how to do things that I had never thought possible. The 'light' side had no idea what they were up against.

So I worked with him throughout the term, conscious of this being his last. He would leave, and I would be left on my own in this bleak stone castle for a year. Draco, learning of my fears for I could never hide anything from him, took me away just after Christmas, and showed me something I never thought possible.

There were a whole group of them, people the same as I was. My heart sang out, for I stopped feeling alone then. There were more, and I was invited to join them, join their meetings, join their plans. I learned about Voldemort, about how he was just a toy to dangle in front of the order, but also of their plans to rid the world of filth. And with the power they, we, held, it was entirely possible to do so.

So that's what I have been doing throughout my life, a life far more extraordinary then anyone would care to imagine. But I think the Order have worked it out, for there are times when my control slips and a true taste of my power swirls around. But they certainly cannot think that I'm already working against them, otherwise they would not be discussing what would be the best way to get me to agree to be a slave for the Order, providing my powers to them so that they could chose what I did and did not do for them. How to charm me into just being a simpering, obedient servant. Maybe they think that all they need to do is get Harry to smile at me, and I'll fall down at their feet. Well, they can think what they like. I'm never returning to them, never. Darkness and utter domination are both so much more fun, don't you think?

So it begins. So I take my place in this battle, discarding all masks and fake appearances. So I cross the boundary of good and evil once and for all, never looking back and never wishing it had never happened. I'm a big girl now. I know what I want.

xGinny Weasleyx

Oh, and do write back; won't you?