What a day!
Ginny opened the door of a classroom on the third floor, hoping it was empty so she could pour everything out to Tom. But it wasn't.
Just inside the door were a tall, curly-haired Ravenclaw prefect and--
"Percy?"
They broke apart, Percy's face as red as his hair. "Ginny!" For once, he seemed at a loss, his mouth opening and closing like a fish's. "Wait--outside!" he burst out, finally, and Ginny backed quickly out of the classroom.
So this was where he kept disappearing to! Her bad mood momentarily dispelled, Ginny leaned against the wall, spurts of giggling breaking through the hands she'd clamped over her mouth. Percy had a girlfriend? It was too fantastic. For once, the twins would have something real to twit Percy with, and maybe they'd leave her alone.
The Ravenclaw girl came out first, and Ginny had to turn away so as not to giggle in her face. Then, after she'd skived off down the corridor, Percy came out. His ears were still bright red, but he strode up the corridor in his usual officious prefect fashion.
Ginny followed, grinning to herself. "You should have brought her to dinner sometime, Perce," she said slyly, catching up with him. "Mum would love to meet your giiiiiiiiiiiiirlfriend." She drew the last word out with sisterly relish, and was rewarded by the way the bright color spread from his ears across his cheekbones.
"Penny and I," he said briskly. "Well, we--we--" Officious prefectosity failed him at this moment. "Ginny," he said anxiously, "you won't--tell anyone, will you?"
"Oh, Perce, who'd believe me that you were going out with anyone--especially a Mudblood?"
She clamped her hand over her mouth, not believing her own ears. She'd meant to say Ravenclaw--hadn't she? Really, hadn't she?
Percy whirled on her. "Virginia Weasley!" he roared. "What did you say!"
What she meant to say was, "Oh, Perce, I'm so sorry--I didn't mean to say it, I honestly didn't--"
But what came out of her mouth was, "Oh, don't get shirty with me, Percival. It's only a word."
He shook his finger in her face. "It's a nasty, horrible word, and I won't have you saying it of anyone!" His eyes were flashing dangerously. Percy's share of the Weasley temper usually had to be blasted out of him, but he had it, right enough, and at this moment Ginny was chanting the Explosivo charm. "Do you hear me, Ginny? I won't! Especially not Penny!"
She slapped his waggling finger away and shrieked, "Mudblood, mudblood, MUDBLOOD!"
He slapped her across the face.
The sound seemed to echo around the empty corridor. Ginny slowly raised her hand to her burning cheek, feeling the blood throb against her fingers.
For a moment, Percy looked as white and shocked as she felt, but then he drew himself up and said in a voice that only shook a little bit, "I'm sorry about that, Ginny, but you know Dad never ever wants us using that word, and rightly so."
She said nothing.
"Now I won't tell him this time, Ginny, but if you do it anymore, or if I even hear of it anymore--"
She swung her bag at his stomach as hard as she could, rewarded when he doubled over with an explosive oof!
"I hate you, Percy Weasley!" she screamed at him, and took off running down the corridor, leaving him gasping and winded behind her.
She darted into the girl's bathroom, knowing Percy would never follow her in here, and sank back against the door. Her legs gave out, and she slowly slid down the door to the floor, where she put her face in her hands.
It felt burning, scalding hot, and she felt hotter tears welling up.
It wasn't fair! Was the horrible thing that was making her open the Chamber of Secrets going to completely take her over? She hadn't believed what she was saying even as the ugly words were tumbling from her mouth, as if she weren't the one in control of her tongue.
She sniffled and pulled the diary out of her bag.
Oh, Tom, what a horrible day.
Tell me all about it.
It was bad already, and just now I was AWFUL to Percy, and after he's been so good to me the whole year!
I'm sure he provoked it. What happened?
I walked in on him and this girl kissing, and then before I knew what was happening, I called her a Mudblood and he yelled at me and I screamed back and then he SLAPPED me!
That's a little strong of him. Was that all you said? He's a bit sensitive, I must say.
Ginny stared at the page. She'd told Tom how her family felt about that--that word, and here he was, acting as if it were nothing.
Something came back to her--something he'd written when they'd talked about that. It's only a word, Ginny.
Like a bad dream, she heard her own voice, only a few moments earlier. Don't get shirty with me, Percival. It's only a word.
Ginny stared at the words on the page until they were sucked away. She could hardly breathe. What if--what . . . if . . . he was the one?
Memories of words wormed into her mind, words that she'd overlooked, words that were just a little off.
Is Dumbledore still the Transfigurations master? . . . He's terribly strict, and he's suspicious of everyone.
The Cruciatus is too good for them.
Better to keep it a secret. It mightn't happen again.
Maybe she forgot.
Dreams don't mean anything, Ginny.
Poisonous words, seeping into her, through her mind. They were coming faster and faster now, clustering up in a damning pile.
He probably wants to use you to get closer to Harry Potter, Ginny.
But you said yourself that he was really annoying. Maybe you're better off . . . You can do better than that . . . You have to be careful about who you make friends with. I'll tell you something I learned very young--this world's all about the people you know.
It would have taken a great wizard to control it.
Honestly, Ginny, I didn't remember until too late that you had to specify your original hair color too!
An avalanche of words like shards of glass in her eyes, making her see what he wanted her to see.
But maybe Parseltongue isn't such a horrible talent. It's not a Dark thing itself, is it? . . . What's so bad about being able to talk to snakes? . . . Don't tell anyone about it.
I'm sure it's just your mind playing tricks on you, Ginny. . . . Best not to tell anyone. You don't want people to think you're really crazy, do you? . . . Considering what he'd done, I'd say the Hufflepuff deserved it . . .
I think you're blowing this out of proportion. . . . You aren't going to do anything foolish, are you? Like telling anyone besides me?
He was annoying, remember? He was taking pictures of Harry . . . Or was he just the only one that ever sat with you?
Making her into himself.
It's only a word.
"Mudblood!"
It's only a word.
"MUDBLOOD!"
It's only a word.
Her father's voice echoed in her mind, something he'd used to say to her and her brothers when they would call each other names. Sticks and stones might break your bones, but words are what really hurt.
Her fingers trembled on the cheap cardboard covers.
It was Tom who was doing this to her.
She flung the diary away from her, convulsively, and it skittered across the floor. The pages lay open, and writing slowly appeared. Ginny? Are you there?
She scrambled across the floor, scooped up the diary, and hurled it with all her might down Moaning Myrtle's toilet. Then she snatched up her bag and bolted from the third floor bathroom.
Her bag thumped painfully against her bag as she fled, and her legs were burning, and her lungs hurt as she tried to draw in breath past her sobs. She scrambled down a flight of stairs, blinded by tears, and slammed into someone with such force her bookbag flew from her hand.
At that point, she was so desperate to get away from herself that she didn't even stop for it. She just fled.
Her legs gave out one wing and three passageways later, and she crumpled to the ground, catching herself just before she hit the floor. She was weeping so hard she couldn't do anything more than support herself on her hands and knees, blinded by scalding tears, her stomach dry-heaving from the force of her sobs.
It had been bad enough to realize that she was the source of all the vicious attacks, that she was the reason Harry was suspected and ostracized--but that Tom, her dearest friend, her confidante, the only one who understood her was the one making her do it . . .
She didn't want it to be Tom. But what other explanation was there? It had only been happening since the beginning of the year--since she'd gotten the diary. He'd seeped into every corner of her life, and it had been his horrible words, his ugly voice she'd heard coming out of her mouth.
If he could do that, then surely he could invade her dreams and make her open the Chamber of Secrets.
Eventually, she'd sobbed it all out and there was nothing left to fuel her tears anymore. Ginny was able to drag herself to the closest wall, curling up against it like a kitten in vain search of softness. The coolness of the stone was a little comforting to her hot cheeks, and she let her eyes drift closed.
After several long, quiet moments of stillness, footsteps--slow, wary ones--worked themselves into her ears. Ginny almost moaned. She wanted to be alone--she didn't want some awful fifth year gawking at her . . .
Or a professor? She couldn't face a professor, not now, not knowing what she'd done and why . . .
Merlin's wand, what if it was one of her brothers?
"Ginny?"
She turned her face more towards the wall, willing the intruder to go away.
"Ginny, you dropped your bag . . ." It was Carmen Jordan.
She didn't care--whoever it was, she didn't care . . .
Rustling cloth, and then Carmen's voice said, "Ginny?" very gently.
"G'way," Ginny mumbled.
"Ginny, what's wrong? You were crying when you bumped into me, weren't you? What's wrong?"
Ginny screwed her eyes so tight they hurt. She couldn't tell Carmen. She couldn't tell anyone. What would happen if they knew?
There was another rustle. "Ginny, do you want some water?"
Her throat was wretchedly dry, so much that it hurt, and her head pounded from her bout of weeping. A drink of cold water sounded like heaven on earth. She lifted her head a little. "A-all right."
Carmen stood and held out her hand. "There's a bathroom right over there. Come with me, we'll get you some water."
It was a trick to get her on her feet, but Ginny was too wrung out to be mad about it. She got up, with Carmen's help, and followed her to the bathroom.
Ginny drank and washed her face, and then grimaced at herself in the mirror. She certainly didn't cry prettily--her face was splotchy red and white, except where the mark of Percy's hand still showed deep red. Her eyelids were swollen, and the whites of her eyes were bloodshot. She tried to smooth down her hair, but it was impossible without a brush.
Carmen was leaning against the next sink, still holding her bag. "What happened?" she asked when Ginny finally straightened up.
She couldn't tell her the whole truth, but--"I had a fight with my brother. Percy," she added.
Carmen's face softened. "Was it bad?"
"Yeah," Ginny sighed. "Really bad." She dried her face on her robe. "Thank you," she said awkwardly, holding out her hand for her bag.
Carmen passed it over. "Listen," she said. "Want to walk to dinner?"
For the first time in a long while, Ginny actually felt hungry. But she ducked her head, suddenly shy. She'd been so rude to Carmen before . . . and pity galled like bile. "If you don't mind," she mumbled, bringing one finger to her mouth to nibble.
"If I minded, I wouldn't have asked," Carmen said.
That was true.
They were silent for a long time as they walked, and then Ginny said, "Why did you follow me?"
"You dropped your bag," Carmen said.
"I know--but you could have just left it there."
"What kind of a person do you think I am, Ginny Weasley?"
Perversely, her indignation reassured Ginny. She tried to explain. "I mean--I've just been so awful to you."
Carmen wrinkled up her face. "Yeeeeeesssss . . ." she allowed. It was another point in her favor that she didn't try to disavow what was only the truth. "But--I don't think that's you."
They meandered along, not looking at each other. Ginny was still trying to chew her nonexistent fingernails.
Carmen said, "I'm sorry about the caterpillar crack."
"What?" Then Ginny remembered. "Oh." She switched fingers. "You didn't know I was there."
"I still shouldn't have said it. I was angry." Carmen was silent for a moment, and then said, "I really wanted to be friends with you at the beginning of the year."
Ginny's mouth fell open. "You did?"
"See, Lee was always talking about Fred and George--"
"Oh," Ginny said sourly. The twins' limelight again.
"But he'd tell stories that they would tell him, and some of them were about you. I know how it is, being a sister."
"They told stories about me?" Probably the worst ones they could dig up--horrible tales of garter snakes and running about the yard in the altogether--
"Like the time you filled all their shoes with chocolate syrup."
Ginny started to smile. She was proud of that prank, undertaken in revenge for itching powder in her new party dress.
"And the time you threw up on Bill's nasty girlfriend."
Ginny felt her ears turning pink. She'd been twenty months old, and it had most definitely not been premeditated. It was a story that got dredged up every so often, because Bill had seen the light after the nasty girlfriend had screamed the house down about her ruined blouse. If not for that, she might have had a really horrible sister-in-law right now.
Carmen said, "I liked you in those stories."
More silence now, the only sound their footsteps echoing in the vault-ceilinged hall.
Just they turned the corner to the Great Hall, Ginny said, "You're right."
"About what?"
"It hasn't been me, all this year." Tears welled, but she swallowed hard and pretended to scratch her nose so she could dash them away. "It's been--someone else."
"Ah." Carmen pretended not to notice that she was crying. "I thought so. Look, it's shepherd's pie tonight."
In the past weeks, Ginny had been nibbling at her food and pushing it away, but she was hungry tonight. She was starving tonight. She ate until Carmen laughed, half-alarmed. "You'll make yourself sick!"
"M'hungry," Ginny mumbled through a mouthful, reaching for another bun.
"Just don't make yourself puke, is all I'm saying."
After Ginny had eaten her fill--without puking--they went up to Gryffindor tower. Ginny instinctively started for the stairs, but Carmen held her back. "Let's play Exploding Snap. You want to?"
"All right."
"Look, there's Jere Markham. Let's see if he'll play."
Oh, no, not him . . . He hadn't said a word to her since their run-in after Charms class the week before. He was a friend of Carmen's, but would that persuade him to even come near her?
Ginny hung back, gnawing at a fingertip on which there was no nail left to chew. Jeremy's voice floated across the common room. "Aw, Carmen, come on, not her . . ."
"Just once, Jere! She's had a rough day, you can be nice--"
It was worse than her brothers trying to get friends for her. Ginny was just starting to turn around to go back upstairs (to do what? No Tom to write to anymore) when Carmen marched over, said, "Come on, Ginny," and dragged her back across the room.
"But--"
"Never mind him. We'll play without him, see how he likes that!"
But somebody already had the Exploding Snap cards. Ginny glanced around. "Look, there's the chess board--" For once, her brother and Hermione Granger weren't monopolizing it. "Have you got pieces, Carmen?"
"Oh--well, yes, I got them in a Christmas cracker. But Ginny, I don't play so well--"
"My brother always beats me," Ginny sighed. "I'm sure we're about even."
But to her surprise, Ginny took Carmen's king in five economical moves, and Carmen gaped at her. "About even, my foot! Which brother always beats you?"
"Ron," she said in surprise. Before he'd gone to Hogwarts, they'd been constant chess opponents, and she the near-constant loser.
Carmen hit her forehead. "My god, no wonder. Don't you know Ron's the best chess player in Gryffindor?"
"He is?" Ron was good at something?
Jeremy stuck his big fat nose into it then. "Yeah, he beat a fifth year right around Halloween, and that great chess board of McGonagall's at the end of last year . . ."
"I heard about that," Ginny said. "He wouldn't stop bragging all summer. It was annoying. Don't s'pose it could have been that hard."
Jeremy gaped at her. "Come on! McGonagall's chess board? You bet your life it was hard! Look at the kind of homework she gives us!"
Ginny gaped back. Ron was the best chess player in her family . . . but when they would consent to play, Percy was always overcautious and both the twins were really reckless. As for the rest of the family, Bill and Charlie were hardly ever home to play with him, Mum had never learnt to play, and Dad preferred to watch. It was just Ginny, usually, and all she knew was that Ron almost always beat her.
"Oh," she said in a subdued voice.
"Oh," Jeremy mocked, rolling his eyes. "Oh!"
"Clear off, Jere," Carmen told him, flapping her hand as if she were shooing a bird. "We're trying to play."
"Oh, no, I'm not going to sit around for another bloodbath. I'm playing her this time--we'll see who's good now!"
Carmen gave Ginny a quick look, mouthing, All right? at her.
But Ginny's pride was stung. "All right, then, we will!"
Jeremy certainly wasn't as good as Ron, but he was good enough that it was a close game. She beat him in the end, but only just. There were at least as many wrecked pieces on her side as on his.
"Another game?" he asked hopefully, as his pieces pulled themselves together.
"Sure--and I'll stop playing so gently," she taunted.
He made a face. "Right. Sure. It'll be me that's no more Mr. Nice Guy."
But forty-five minutes later, Jeremy was the one mumbling "Checkmate", and Ginny was the one grinning triumphantly.
"How'd you do that?" he asked, staring at the chess board. "I never saw that pawn coming!"
"I made it up. Look, you kind of--" She showed him how she'd kept two or three pawns hanging about in reserve. He'd relaxed once he'd captured the bishop, never realizing it was only the decoy. "See? Ron calls it the Ginny Feint. He hates it."
Jeremy looked at her in surprise. "You know, you're not so bad, Ginny," he said. "For a girl."
"Oh, that's nice, that is--" Carmen murmured.
But, recognizing it for the compliment that it was, Ginny only said, "Thanks."
Several hours later, Percy broke up the game. "Go on, now, it's almost ten o'clock! You should be in bed!"
Jeremy made horrible faces behind his back, and Carmen had to cover her mouth to fight off the giggles. Ginny didn't feel much like laughing, however. Even as he herded them toward the stairs, Percy wasn't looking at her.
Was he remembering this afternoon? Was he thinking of that awful thing she'd said, and the way he'd hit her? He'd never hit her before, and while it hadn't been hard, it had been terrifying and unexpected.
She started to follow Jeremy and Carmen to the dormitories when Percy said behind her, "Ginny--"
She was suddenly terrified of what he was going to say in that hollow, leaden voice. Was he going to write to Dad? Had he written to Dad?
Before he could say anything else, she said very quickly, "G'nite, Percy," and sprinted up the stairs.
She went back to the third-floor bathroom the next day, shaking in her shoes. She didn't want Tom back--but she wanted to destroy the diary more permanently than tossing it down a toilet.
Moaning Myrtle was sitting weeping on the back of the toilet, as usual. Ginny approached cautiously. "Hello, Myrtle . . ."
"What do you want?" Myrtle snuffled.
"I just--wanted to see how you were--doing." Ginny felt awkward, trying to nice to the unpleasant ghost. Nobody liked Moaning Myrtle--she clung to her various persecutions, imagined and real, like a child to a security blanket.
"How do you think I'm doing?"
"Dunno--" Ginny tried looking around for the diary, but she couldn't see anything in the bathroom.
"I'd be better if you living people didn't come around, showing off and throwing things at me!"
This was more like it. "What got thrown at you?"
"A silly little book," Myrtle said sulkily.
"What happened to it?"
Sensing that Ginny really wanted to know, Myrtle turned pettish. "Shan't tell you!"
"Please?"
"Shan't! Shan't! You can just find out for yourself, can't you!" The spotty ghost dove into her toilet and started making splashy raspberries from somewhere deep in the bowl.
Ginny got out before Moaning Myrtle could flood the place again. She told herself the diary had been flushed and was somewhere out in the lake. Maybe the squid had eaten it.
That made her feel better, thinking of Tom bouncing around inside a giant squid.