~AN: In one of the reviews, some one suggested going farther back in my story of Ginny
in the Chamber of Secrets, and follow her through the year she was under the Imperius
Curse. I thought that sounded good...I hope you guys agree as you read!
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters if they are in J.K. Rowling's series.


Ginny Weasley slumped miserably onto her bed, causing the stuffing to bulge out
more than usual. She was glad she was finally going to Hogwarts, but she wasn't so happy
about what she had to go with.

Sighing, she dumped her bag that was bulging with things recently bought in
Diagon Alley. The contents toppled and bounced about her bed. She shifted through them,
looking for anything that wasn't torn, ripped, used...
Nothing. She sighed again. All of the books, her robes, cauldron, even her wand,
were second-hand and in terrible condition. Ginny didn't half blame Mr. Malfoy for making
such a scene at the poor state of her A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration book.

Ginny picked up that book, which was barely held together with thick tape. Feeling
her face become sadder and sadder, she listlessly flipped the pages. Various notes were
written in it (Concentrate on making the match pointy first....), hasty reminders (Test on
first section, Friday!!!), and silly hearts (A.F. loves M.M.). Ginny wondered briefly if she
would ever absentmindedly write Harry Potter's name in any of the books, and quickly
thought about something else, her cheeks flaming as if some one was reading her thoughts
about her crush. Harry was staying with them for the rest of the summer, and every time
Ginny was in the same room with him, she did something stupid and clumsy. She knew
he'd never like some one like her, and wondered what he'd think if he saw his name in a
heart in her books. She shivered at the thought.

Tired of looking through the old book, she dropped it. Just looking at it
depressed her, reminding her that her family barely had enough to support itself. She was
sure that at school they'd tease her for her used robes. And her books, if the others were
all as bad as Transfiguration, which Ginny could tell they were, she wouldn't be able to
read from them, torn and written in, and wouldn't concentrate, sure that every eye was
looking at the tattered books.

Ready to cry, Ginny threw herself down on the bed, belly first.

"OUCH!" she yelped as something hard jabbed her in the stomach. Turning on her
side, she blindly grabbed the object and flung it off the bed, to the corner of her room. A
Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration flew through the air and landed with a "thump."
Something fell out from between the pages of the book.
Curiousity coming over pity for herself, Ginny walked over to the book and picked
up whatever had fallen out. It was a small black book. Caustiously, she flipped open the
first few pages, seeing the pages labeled with dates.

"Oh!" Ginny cried softly. It was a diary, she realized. She'd always wanted
something to confide in, being the only girl, except her mum, in a household of older
brothers and busy father. There were somethings a girl couldn't even tell her mum and a
diary had always seemed like a dream. Still, she hadn't remembered her parents buying this
one, couldn't imagine her Dad or Mum picking out something like this for thier only
daughter.

Wondering where it came from, she flipped to the inside cover, where there, barely
visible, was writing. Squinting, she made out the name "T.M. Riddle", in faded ink.

"Riddle?" Ginny thought out loud, thinking the name was familar. She shook her
head, not being able to remember. The awe of finding the diary was wearing off, and
curiousity was becoming the first thing in Ginny's mind.

She flopped on her bed once more, avoiding books this time, and scanned the first
few pages. None of them had writing on them. Thinking maybe the writer started farther
in, Ginny opened the book to the center, and began looking again. Not a single word
greeted her eyes. Slightly disappointed, she closed the book. Then, remembering her
excitement of her very own diary, one that hadn't been passed down through through the
whole family, rushed back. She scrabbled for a quill.

Ginny paused, quill poised just above the blank page. Would she like it if some one
started writing in her personal books? Certiainly not. Deciding it was only fair not to mar
the pages of T.M. Riddle's book, she sighed and closed the diary. She started to push
away the book again, but then grabbed it again. It was too good to pass up a chance to
write out her thoughts. Whoever this T.M. Riddle was, her or she wasn't using the diary
now, so Ginny didn't want the empty book to go to waste. It was only fair to have this
after the disappointment of her ratty school supplies.

Thinking for a moment about what she needed to write about, Ginny started
scribbling.

Dear Diary,
It's terrible being poor. Today, we went shopping in Diagon Alley and everything
that Mum and Dad didn't have at home for me, we got it. But all of it is second-hand,
ratty, old, used stuff that will probably fall apart in the first week. I can't talk to my parents
about money because Mum will get upset, telling me how lucky I'm going at all, and she'll
get red in the face and start puffing at me, like she does with Fred and George when they
get her mad. And Dad, I feel worse, because he'll act totally embarressed and look really
sad because he didn't get a raise or something. Sometimes, I feel like I'm stupid to worry
about money as long as I have food and a house and my family, but then I feel totally
desperate to have a single Knut to my name.

Ginny looked over her recent entry. It pretty much summed up her feelings, but
then she remembered Fred teasing her earlier about the Sorting. Ready to add that in, she
picked up the quill and looked back at the page she'd written on. It was empty.
Gasping, she looked at her quill, thinking that those stupid brothers of her had
switched her school quill with an invisible ink one. Then she remembered seeing the words
for herself. Something was very wrong.

As she stared at the open diary, trying to figure out what happened, words started
coming back, like they'd never left. Relieved, she looked at them again. Her eyes went
wide. She'd never written what was appearing in front of her eyes.

I'm so sorry, dear. It sounds like you've had a very bad day. You can tell me about
it if you like. Just write more in the diary.

The words were sucked back into the page as soon as they had come. Shaking,
Ginny wrote,

Who are you?

The words disappeared before her eyes and the reply came back in seconds.

Tom Riddle. And you?

Ginny was ready to write back, eager to have found such an object, a sympathizing
diary, when her door opened. Percy stood in the doorway, looking his usual pompous and
self assured self. Ginny jumped in surprise and stashed her new book under a pile of
others.

"Dinner's ready, Ginny. Are you ok?" Percy was giving Ginny a search with his
sharp eyes, a look he'd gotten ever since he'd become a Perfect, that reminded Ginny of
Mum's when she looked pale or scared. She saw her hands were shaking.

"I'm fine. What are we having to eat?"


AN~before this was hermione who comes to ginny's room but then i remembered that she didn't
stay with them till later, so i changed it to percy...sorry about this