Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, wish I did, but I don't, so too bad for me.
A/N: k, here's a nice long chapter for all of you who read my first one. Ppl who review, I love you! 4ever! I won't be able to post anything for awhile, cuz I'm going on a ski vacation. Fun. So, I hope you like this. Please review!
September 10
Dear Tom,
I'm terribly sorry I haven't written in so long! I've just been so busy, you can't even imagine. I had my first Defense Against the Dark Arts class with Lockhart yesterday, and the day before that I had transfiguration, and of course Snape's still horrible, and-
*Ginny, slow down please, I can't process all this so fast. I'm not mad at you for not writing, if that's what you're worrying about. Start over from the beginning, now.*
Okay, sorry. I'll start with transfiguration, I guess. McGonagall's head of Gryffindor, but you'd never guess it, with all the homework she loads on. She's got a fabulously dry sense of humor that is quite funny until you are the object of her jokes. I found that out quickly. I'm absolutely hopeless at transfiguration, you see. Oh, I can get something to happen, just never the right thing.
*Transfiguration, hmmm. It's been so long since I transfigured anything, stuck in this horrid book for fifty years. You haven't got any idea how wonderful it is to have a correspondent, Ginny.
But back to the point. Let me see, perhaps I could help you. Transfiguration? I'm sure I can help you, I was always rather good at it, though Dumbledore did nothing to encourage me. Never seemed to like me. But yes, I think I can help.*
If you don't mind my asking, Tom, how?
*Come into my memory, Ginny. If you'll just say yes, I can bring you into my memory of a Transfiguration lesson, into my very head, and you can see how I did it.*
Are you sure? I mean, do you know if it'll work?
*Say yes, Ginny.*
Will it take much time? I won't get stuck or anything, I'd hate-
*SAY IT.*
Oh, well, um, yes.
~Into the Diary~
A large hole opened up in the page that Ginny had been writing in. Some force that Ginny couldn't have fought even if she wanted to pushed her forward, into the gaping hole, and she felt herself falling. At first there was a whirl of colors, and then Ginny's world went black.
Just as suddenly, Ginny's eyes flew open- or rather, Tom's did. It was as if someone had whipped a blindfold off Ginny's face, and she had had her eyes open the entire time- there was just something in the way.
"Mr. Riddle!" Ginny looked around and saw an auburn-haired professor. Dumbledore, she thought, though a much younger Dumbledore.
Tom jumped, and Ginny felt a tremor run through her own body. Tom deftly slipped the book he was hiding inside his transfiguration textbook into his bag. Ginny strained, looking through the corners of Tom's eyes, but couldn't catch the title. She mentally made a note to ask Tom about it later.
"Yes, Professor?"
"How is the cucumber coming, hmm?" Ginny saw that Dumbledore's face held a bemused expression, but his eyes didn't. Rather, they had on their usual probing expression, along with the look a judge gives a criminal that is obviously guilty but hasn't been proven so yet.
"Ah, well, let's see. I'm sure I can transform it to a rat. It's just the squeaking that I'm a bit worried about."
"Well, let's see then. I'll help if you get stuck." Tom nodded and cleared his throat.
"Ratacra Sempra!" Tom cried, but Ginny knew from past experience that just the words weren't enough. Tom knew it too,
Ginny heard-no, felt, Tom's thinking. She felt him picturing every single detail of the cucumber, it's color, texture and size, then felt him changing the cucumber, pruning it, like a gardener. Tweaking things, changing them, but never totally cutting them off. The cucumber became a rat.
But Tom wasn't done. Ginny felt him delve into the poor creature's mind, which knew only sun and photosynthesis, as did a cucumber, and begin the same pruning process. And soon, the rat was squeaking.
"That was an adequate performance, Mr. Riddle," Dumbledore said. Tom nodded curtly, and the memory began to fade.
~Back to the Real World~
Tom?
*Yes.*
Thank you?
*Why do you make it a question?*
It was. . . a unique experience. I don't know if it's going to help me, but I suppose it can't hurt me. Just one question: what was the book you were reading?
*What book?*
The one you had behind your textbook. I couldn't see the title.
*I don't know what you're talking about, Ginny.*
What? What do you mean, of course you do, it was right at the beginning of the memory, you were-
*Perhaps you were confused. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all.*
Oh, I think I'm all right. But I guess it'd be good if I took a nap or something. I'll finish telling you about Lockhart and Snape tomorrow.
September 11
Dear Tom,
Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you-
*For what? Taking you into my memory?*
Yes! I did ever so much better in potions today, you have no idea! Of course, I'm nowhere near as good as Kelly Patil, but still.
*Right, well, I'll help you again if you ever need it.*
Thanks.
*So, who's this Lockhart fellow?*
Oh, him. Well, to start, he's supposed to be just brilliant, he's got a grand total of seven (I think) books about him. He's a complete joke in the classroom, though. Hasn't got a clue. He flatters himself far too much, then fails to convey whatever he's supposed to be teaching. I'd feel sorry for him, but it's hard, what with all the bravado he puts up.
*Reminds me of someone.*
Who?
*No one. Forget it.*
No! You can tell me, Tom. Your secret's safe with me. Anyway, I'm after your time. Who could I possibly tell?
*I don't think you'd care for the answer.*
What's that supposed to mean? Honestly, it's not a big deal. Don't tell me if you don't want to. I just thought you were my friend. After all, I've been telling you everything, and now you can't answer one simple question!
*Ginny, I-*
Goodbye!
*Ginny, open this book up right now!*
September 12
Dear Tom,
I'm sorry. I shouldn't gotten so angry yesterday. Everybody's got their secrets, I suppose. It was my own choice to tell you mine, so I guess I can't blame you if you want to hide something. I just wish-
*What, Ginny? What do you wish for? Is it something I can give you?*
To some extent, yes. But not completely.
*Tell me, Ginny.*
All I want is a friend, Tom. I want to be able to walk into the common room and see a seat reserved for me. I want to have someone to gossip with. No offense or anything, but you haven't exactly got the latest rumors. I don't know what you've got at all, really. I barely know you, Tom. I don't even know if I want to. After all, you can't even apologize to me.
*Ginny, hear me out. I've always been one of those perfect boys. I was a top student, brave, polite, and charmingly handsome in my time. Prefect, then Head Boy. I'd like to say I was nice. But I wasn't. Not at all. I was cold, sarcastic, and selfish. I hated it, but couldn't change it. That was the way I was. And I hope I can be a better friend to you, but I can't apologize. I was never wrong, Ginny, and I still can't admit it if I make a mistake. Because if I can't like my personality, I at least need the comfort of knowing that I'm always right. That I'm perfect.*
Tom, why are you that way?
*Tomorrow. I'll tell you tomorrow. Go to bed now.*
All right. Good night, Tom.
A/N: k, here's a nice long chapter for all of you who read my first one. Ppl who review, I love you! 4ever! I won't be able to post anything for awhile, cuz I'm going on a ski vacation. Fun. So, I hope you like this. Please review!
September 10
Dear Tom,
I'm terribly sorry I haven't written in so long! I've just been so busy, you can't even imagine. I had my first Defense Against the Dark Arts class with Lockhart yesterday, and the day before that I had transfiguration, and of course Snape's still horrible, and-
*Ginny, slow down please, I can't process all this so fast. I'm not mad at you for not writing, if that's what you're worrying about. Start over from the beginning, now.*
Okay, sorry. I'll start with transfiguration, I guess. McGonagall's head of Gryffindor, but you'd never guess it, with all the homework she loads on. She's got a fabulously dry sense of humor that is quite funny until you are the object of her jokes. I found that out quickly. I'm absolutely hopeless at transfiguration, you see. Oh, I can get something to happen, just never the right thing.
*Transfiguration, hmmm. It's been so long since I transfigured anything, stuck in this horrid book for fifty years. You haven't got any idea how wonderful it is to have a correspondent, Ginny.
But back to the point. Let me see, perhaps I could help you. Transfiguration? I'm sure I can help you, I was always rather good at it, though Dumbledore did nothing to encourage me. Never seemed to like me. But yes, I think I can help.*
If you don't mind my asking, Tom, how?
*Come into my memory, Ginny. If you'll just say yes, I can bring you into my memory of a Transfiguration lesson, into my very head, and you can see how I did it.*
Are you sure? I mean, do you know if it'll work?
*Say yes, Ginny.*
Will it take much time? I won't get stuck or anything, I'd hate-
*SAY IT.*
Oh, well, um, yes.
~Into the Diary~
A large hole opened up in the page that Ginny had been writing in. Some force that Ginny couldn't have fought even if she wanted to pushed her forward, into the gaping hole, and she felt herself falling. At first there was a whirl of colors, and then Ginny's world went black.
Just as suddenly, Ginny's eyes flew open- or rather, Tom's did. It was as if someone had whipped a blindfold off Ginny's face, and she had had her eyes open the entire time- there was just something in the way.
"Mr. Riddle!" Ginny looked around and saw an auburn-haired professor. Dumbledore, she thought, though a much younger Dumbledore.
Tom jumped, and Ginny felt a tremor run through her own body. Tom deftly slipped the book he was hiding inside his transfiguration textbook into his bag. Ginny strained, looking through the corners of Tom's eyes, but couldn't catch the title. She mentally made a note to ask Tom about it later.
"Yes, Professor?"
"How is the cucumber coming, hmm?" Ginny saw that Dumbledore's face held a bemused expression, but his eyes didn't. Rather, they had on their usual probing expression, along with the look a judge gives a criminal that is obviously guilty but hasn't been proven so yet.
"Ah, well, let's see. I'm sure I can transform it to a rat. It's just the squeaking that I'm a bit worried about."
"Well, let's see then. I'll help if you get stuck." Tom nodded and cleared his throat.
"Ratacra Sempra!" Tom cried, but Ginny knew from past experience that just the words weren't enough. Tom knew it too,
Ginny heard-no, felt, Tom's thinking. She felt him picturing every single detail of the cucumber, it's color, texture and size, then felt him changing the cucumber, pruning it, like a gardener. Tweaking things, changing them, but never totally cutting them off. The cucumber became a rat.
But Tom wasn't done. Ginny felt him delve into the poor creature's mind, which knew only sun and photosynthesis, as did a cucumber, and begin the same pruning process. And soon, the rat was squeaking.
"That was an adequate performance, Mr. Riddle," Dumbledore said. Tom nodded curtly, and the memory began to fade.
~Back to the Real World~
Tom?
*Yes.*
Thank you?
*Why do you make it a question?*
It was. . . a unique experience. I don't know if it's going to help me, but I suppose it can't hurt me. Just one question: what was the book you were reading?
*What book?*
The one you had behind your textbook. I couldn't see the title.
*I don't know what you're talking about, Ginny.*
What? What do you mean, of course you do, it was right at the beginning of the memory, you were-
*Perhaps you were confused. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all.*
Oh, I think I'm all right. But I guess it'd be good if I took a nap or something. I'll finish telling you about Lockhart and Snape tomorrow.
September 11
Dear Tom,
Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you-
*For what? Taking you into my memory?*
Yes! I did ever so much better in potions today, you have no idea! Of course, I'm nowhere near as good as Kelly Patil, but still.
*Right, well, I'll help you again if you ever need it.*
Thanks.
*So, who's this Lockhart fellow?*
Oh, him. Well, to start, he's supposed to be just brilliant, he's got a grand total of seven (I think) books about him. He's a complete joke in the classroom, though. Hasn't got a clue. He flatters himself far too much, then fails to convey whatever he's supposed to be teaching. I'd feel sorry for him, but it's hard, what with all the bravado he puts up.
*Reminds me of someone.*
Who?
*No one. Forget it.*
No! You can tell me, Tom. Your secret's safe with me. Anyway, I'm after your time. Who could I possibly tell?
*I don't think you'd care for the answer.*
What's that supposed to mean? Honestly, it's not a big deal. Don't tell me if you don't want to. I just thought you were my friend. After all, I've been telling you everything, and now you can't answer one simple question!
*Ginny, I-*
Goodbye!
*Ginny, open this book up right now!*
September 12
Dear Tom,
I'm sorry. I shouldn't gotten so angry yesterday. Everybody's got their secrets, I suppose. It was my own choice to tell you mine, so I guess I can't blame you if you want to hide something. I just wish-
*What, Ginny? What do you wish for? Is it something I can give you?*
To some extent, yes. But not completely.
*Tell me, Ginny.*
All I want is a friend, Tom. I want to be able to walk into the common room and see a seat reserved for me. I want to have someone to gossip with. No offense or anything, but you haven't exactly got the latest rumors. I don't know what you've got at all, really. I barely know you, Tom. I don't even know if I want to. After all, you can't even apologize to me.
*Ginny, hear me out. I've always been one of those perfect boys. I was a top student, brave, polite, and charmingly handsome in my time. Prefect, then Head Boy. I'd like to say I was nice. But I wasn't. Not at all. I was cold, sarcastic, and selfish. I hated it, but couldn't change it. That was the way I was. And I hope I can be a better friend to you, but I can't apologize. I was never wrong, Ginny, and I still can't admit it if I make a mistake. Because if I can't like my personality, I at least need the comfort of knowing that I'm always right. That I'm perfect.*
Tom, why are you that way?
*Tomorrow. I'll tell you tomorrow. Go to bed now.*
All right. Good night, Tom.