Chapter 7~Bad Dreams and Feathers

Dear Tom,

Would you believe that things have gotten worse? I honestly hate Hogwarts!

Ginny felt her tears as she forced herself to write in her, or rather, Tom's, diary. He
made her feel extremely guilty if she ever missed a day, or left something out of her day,
so she made sure all her feelings of the day went into the black book.

Oh, Ginny. I'm so sorry. I'm sure things will get better.

Blinking back tears so her vision wasn't as blurring, Ginny bit her lip as she wrote
back.

You've said that before and they haven't. I can't do anything in classes, my teachers
think I don't study enough. I try, but there's never time! And I've only made one friend, but
she's never really around because she hangs out with her older sister and Ron would never
let me tag along with him. I'm always so tired and I miss my mum and dad!

All of this was quickly scrawled across the blank page, along with a few tear drops
that fell, making the emotion hard to read.

It does sound terrible. Is Harry still ignoring you, too?

Looking around the dormitory to check for anyone straggling in for whatever
reason, Ginny hunched over the book and wrote back. There was no way she wanted
anyone else to read this. It was embaressing enough to write to some one you couldn't see
about your problems. But to have some one in person reading it would be mortifying.

Well, in a way he does. He's busy with Quidditch practice, and, when he's not
doing that or school, he just stays with Ron and Hermione and I couldn't hang out with
them because Ron hates to have me around. But, when I went looking around for Harry
yesterday, just minding my own business, Hagrid came out and talked with me. He must
know that I like Harry because he said he hadn't seen Harry lately but would tell me if he
did. I had to invent some lie about having lots to study just to hide my face. It was
horrible, Tom! I mean, I like Hagrid, but I hate to be teased by anyone. It's just so....mean!

Ginny rolled over onto her stomach on her bed. She felt really faint, blinking not
from tears, but because of exhaustion. She could barely keep her eyes open anymore. She
yawned, wondering why on earth she was so out of it lately. Groggily, the thought left like
smoke and she turned back to the diary.

I understand, my dear. I was teased occasionally too, for being an orphan and all.
At least you have parents.

Blushing for being so thoughtless about her situation compared to Tom's, Ginny
wrote,

Oh, Tom, I shouldn't complain about my little problems with all you went through!
Forgive me please. I won't whine about my own promblems again.

As soon as they words disappeared, Tom's reply was back. Ginny stared,
astonished at the speed. She read,

Don't be so hard on yourself. I like to listen to you. It's the first contact I've had in
a while. Please, keep writing your feelings. Stop being so silly and just tell it to Old Tom
here. I always have time to listen.

Smiling at her friend's understanding nature, Ginny wrote late into the night, just as
she did every day, pouring her soul out for Tom to read about, finally drifting off into a
troubled sleep.

~

She started from her bed, dripping with sweat. Ginny had just had a nightmare.
She couldn't quite recall what had happened, but it was a really horrible one, she
remembered that much. Trying to shrug it off as just the result of never having anything
happy to think about, she decided to write some more in the diary. She always did now,
knowing it was kind of silly to keep such a close friendship with a basically dead person,
but he was all she had. Besides, whenever she didn't write, she felt worse than ever, as if all
her emotions were bottled and she had to get them out on the paper.

Ginny reached for her wand and whispered, "Lumos," to help her find the diary in
the early morning lack of light. As the light came from the end of the wand, she gasped,
seeing she wasn't just dripping with sweat. Sticky blood stubbornly trickled down her
arms, causing her to stare at them. Was she bleeding? Abandoning the thought of Tom for
the moment, she ran out of the room, clutching her lit-up wand. Instinct took over as she
searched for a bathroom.

She stumbled through the portrait hole, going through hallways she didn't even
know about yet. When she did find a bathroom, she pushed through the door, yearning for
water to wash her blood and whatever wound she had. As the low candles flickered, she
peered into the mirror, dumbfounded.

Feathers littered her pajamas, sticking to the blood.