She couldn't sleep that night. She pretended to, in order to allay Carmen's suspicions, but long after all the other beds emitted deep breathing and soft snores, Ginny lay awake.
This had gone too far. She'd let it go too far. She had to tell someone. She'd pretended to herself that she could handle it, that she didn't need anyone's help, that she was grown-up enough. But she wasn't, and that foolish illusion had done more harm than she'd thought possible.
She'd hurt two of her brothers terribly by not taking the diary to someone the moment she'd got it back. That had led to her attack on Hermione, Ron and Harry's good friend (no matter what Ginny personally thought of her), and Penny, Percy's . . . Percy's . . .
She thought of the way her brother had sniffed, and the way his eyes had shone even as he'd tried to cover it up. With a little cry, she turned over and buried her face in her pillow.
She would get suspended. She would get expelled. She would get put in Azkaban.
But Ginny bit her lip. Was she really going to put herself over all the people she could hurt?
She had to put the diary out of her hands, and herself out of his reach. She could burn it, as she'd meant to. But something told Ginny that she would never do it. Something would always stop her. Someone had to take it out of her hands, someone stronger than her silly self who would have no qualms about destroying it.
But could she possibly go to?
Professor Dumbledore would know. Ron said Harry admired the headmaster more than anything. He knew everything, Ron had said, and even when they'd broken rules--maybe Professor Dumbledore would understand--
Ginny's stomach dropped when she remembered that he wasn't here anymore--the school governors had suspended him. They would probably sack him. Professor McGonagall was in charge now.
March right up and tell Professor McGonagall that she was the one? Oh, no, she couldn't--she couldn't--she couldn't--
"I have to," said a voice. After a moment, Ginny recognized it as her own. "I have to," she said more softly. "I have to."
She got up out of bed, carefully climbing over the books and noisemakers, which she'd set up again after the double attack. She couldn't sleep anyway, and if she tried, Tom might get at her in her dreams. She couldn't afford to risk that, now that she knew exactly what it was that was in the Chamber of Secrets. She'd been terribly lucky that nobody had died--Petrified was bad enough.
She clambered into the window seat and very carefully wedged pins into cracks between the stones in as many places as she could manage. If she started to fall asleep, she would relax, and the pins would prick her.
Then she turned her face to the window and watched the stars.
"Have you been up all night, Ginny?"
The appalled voice jerked Ginny out of her exhausted haze. She'd been floating in a warm dream of her mother's arms, and the comfort of her own bed at home, with her favorite soft toy, Sparkle the unicorn, at her side. It had been a time before Hogwarts, a time before Tom, and everything had been right. Her brothers were still wonderful instead of horrible, she hadn't been mad at her mother, and nothing was ever so wrong that a hug couldn't cure.
She turned on the window seat to see Carmen staring at her. "I--I couldn't sleep," she said.
Carmen squinted at her, a puzzled look on her face. "You looked like you were doing a pretty good job of it."
Ginny couldn't think of anything to say to that, so she just shrugged.
"You look terrible. Honestly you do. Your eyes are bloodshot and you're really pale and you-- Look, go to bed and go to sleep, all right? I'll tell the teachers you're not feeling well. Nobody's doing much of anything today anyway."
Ginny jolted the rest of the way awake. "No--no, I can't!"
"Are you sure, Ginny?"
"Yes! Very sure." Ginny climbed down off the window seat and hurried over to her wardrobe, diving in for her clothes.
Carmen's voice percolated through Ginny's rustlings. "Ginny, honestly--it's not like you to be this hot on going to class--"
Class? Who cared about class? "I'm fine!" Ginny wiggled out of her night-gown and into clean robes.
"But--"
"I'll get some sleep later--" Ginny pawed through the piles of robes, knickers, and socks at the bottom of her wardrobe. She couldn't find a hair clip and her hair was falling all around her shoulders and into her face in thick, bright tangles.
"It's an hour and a half until breakfast, Ginny!"
"I'll do some studying or something--ooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" Surprising even herself, she burst into tears and thumped down on the floor.
Carmen knelt down. "I knew something was wrong! Now what is it?"
"I--can't--find--a--perishing--h-h-h-h-air--c-c-cli-hi-hi-hip!" Ginny wailed, hiccuping.
"Shh--shh! You're going to wake the whole dormitory! It's all right, you can borrow one of mine. Come on, let's go to the bathroom."
Ginny in bare feet and robes and Carmen still in her pyjamas, they snuck down the stairs to the bathroom at the base of the tower. This early in the morning, the only other occupants were the die-hard mirror hounds, and none of them paid any attention to a pair of first-years. Ginny stood mute and white before the mirror as Carmen brushed her hair. She didn't even say anything when Carmen started braiding the sides before catching them back in the clip, although she normally had no patience with Carmen's more elaborate ideas for hairstyles.
"I wish you'd tell me what's wrong, Ginny," Carmen said in a low voice. "And don't say 'nothing.' You've been like this for months, and it's only gotten worse lately. What aren't you telling us?"
Ginny stared at herself in the mirror and hated everything she saw. If only she hadn't been so stupid as to trust in Tom--and to let him become her whole world--and then not telling anyone--and keeping on not telling anyone--
That was her whole problem, keeping secrets, keeping them far beyond the point where she should have told someone. She kept too many secrets, when she had ought to be telling them. No more secrets, she vowed. Never again.
She opened her mouth.
Don't you dare, you silly little girl.
She gulped so quickly she made a strange croaking sound.
Carmen said, "Ginny--?"
Had she really just heard Tom's voice?
"Ginny?"
It was gone. She could hear nothing but her own too-quick breathing.
But the moment had shattered her resolve, and she was once again a shivering wreck. She couldn't tell Carmen--she couldn't--she couldn't! She was even starting to wonder if she could bear to tell Professor McGonagall--
But no--she had to tell. She had to stop all this. She had to stop Tom.
She had to stop herself.
"Carmen," Ginny said softly.
"Yes?"
Ginny looked into Carmen's anxious face, reflected by the mirror. "Thank you."
"For what? Your hair?"
"Y--no--that too--"
"You're not making any sense."
Ginny whirled and threw her arms around Carmen. "Thank you for being my friend," she sobbed. "Just--thank you."
Carmen hugged her back. "You're welcome, but Ginny--"
Ginny broke away and ran.
She consciously avoided Jeremy and Carmen until it was time to go down to breakfast, ducking behind people and furniture as she waited for Professor McGonagall to arrive.
When she arrived, Ginny thought about trying to talk to her right there, but there were too many people around. Then the professor's manner was so brisk and exasperated, as she herded people out of the common room and down to breakfast, that Ginny's courage ebbed away altogether. She couldn't even ask for an interview later.
She sat down far away from Jeremy and Carmen, who gave her wounded looks. She stared at the toast on her plate, but she couldn't even smell it without wanting to throw up.
I can't put it off any longer--
If you do, you'll suffer more than you thought possible.
She caught her breath. There it was again--Tom's voice--
Was she going mad?
Mad? You'll wish you had when I'm done with you. I've gone beyond needing a silly book to control you, Virginia Myrtle Weasley. That was dumb, telling me your full name, you know. Names have power. And you've given me enough of yourself that I can exercise that power.
She had told him her full name, hadn't she? Back when she'd first found the diary. Stupid, stupid, stupid!
I don't care for anything you can do to me, she lied. I've got to tell someone.
Who are you going to tell? Your precious Harry Potter?
Her mouth fell open. Harry. Of course, Harry! He wasn't nearly as scary as Professor McGonagall, and after last year . . . yes, Harry would know what to do! Yes! she thought defiantly. I've got to tell Harry.
Stupid little girl. What can he do?
When I tell Harry about you, he'll know what to do! He will! He defeated You-Know-Who! No matter what you do to me, you can't TOUCH him. He's got powers nobody knows anything about, so there!
That I would like to see. His sardonic laughter rang in her ears from within.
How could she have ever trusted him?
At the front of the hall, Professor McGonagall rose to her feet. "I have good news."
The Great Hall erupted in cheers and shouted speculation. Under the table, Ginny's hands found each other and clenched together. If she'd had any nails left, they would have drawn blood.
"Professor Sprout has informed me that the Mandrakes are ready for cutting at last. Tonight, we will be able to revive those people who have been Petrified. I need hardly remind you that one of them may well be able to tell us who, or what, attacked them. I am hopeful that this dreadful year will end with our catching the culprit."
Ginny went cold all over. The culprit--it sounded just as bad as it had the night of the double attack. The tone of Professor McGonagall's voice made it clear what sort of fate awaited that culprit.
They'll put you in Azkaban, Ginny. You don't want that, do you?
She wanted to clamp her hands over her ears, but the voice wasn't physical and it wouldn't help. I'm not listening to you! I'm not! I'm not!
You did before. You know what I can do to you. You know.
I don't care about me anymore! I deserve it for listening to you!
Perversely, the more he taunted and threatened her, the higher her courage surged. This was what he really was, a nasty bully. No matter what happened to her, she was going to see to it that he got what he deserved. She got up.
SIT DOWN!
NO!
Gritting her teeth against the constant stream of threats echoing in her head, Ginny made her way over to where Harry and Ron sat, their heads together over their bacon. Ron was saying, "It might be kinder to leave her where she is until they're over." Ginny didn't know he was talking about, and she didn't care. He glanced over at her as she sat down next to him. "What's up?"
She tried to open her mouth three times and three times she failed. She looked up and down the table, praying that nobody but her brother and Harry were listening in.
"Spit it out," Ron told her.
I'll set the Basilisk on you, Ginny, do you hear me? On you! And there'll be no handy little tricks like those Mudbloods used!
"I've got to tell you something," she mumbled. She couldn't look at Harry, even though she wanted him to hear this.
"What is it?" he said.
Her lip wobbled.
Don't you so much as open your mouth, you stupid--
"What?" Ron said. He finally seemed to have cottoned on that this was something important.
Ginny opened her mouth, but her throat had closed up. She was trembling all over, shaking like a leaf, too nervous to even chew her fingernails.
Don't even think about it--
Harry leaned over the table to her and said in a very low voice, "Is it something about the Chamber of Secrets?"
Her eyes widened. How did he know?
You'll be sorry, I swear you'll regret it--
Harry said, "Have you seen something? Someone acting oddly?"
Yes--me--I'm acting very oddly-- Ginny opened her mouth and took a deep breath--
"If you've finished eating, I'll take that seat, Ginny."
Oh, god, Percy!
"I'm starving, I've just come off patrol duty."
She leapt out of her chair and bolted down the Great Hall between the tables. Behind her, she could hear Ron complaining. "Percy! She was just about to tell us something important!"
"Ginny? Ginny!" someone called out. It sounded like Carmen.
She couldn't face her friends now. She rocketed into a group of Hufflepuffs and hid herself in their depths until they'd passed into the entry way. Then she darted down a side corridor and slumped into an alcove.
Again, she wanted her mum's arms around her, more than anything she'd ever wanted before. She wanted this to go away. She just wanted it to go away.
Tom-in-her-head was silent. For one shining moment, she wondered if he had been banished just by the threat of Harry Potter. Then--
That was stupid.
She froze.
I told you not to, Ginny. I told you what I'd do to you if you did.
"I didn't," she whimpered out loud. "I didn't."
You were going to. Get up.
"No . . ."
GET UP!
Before, she had been able to resist, but her momentum was broken, and she rose to her feet.
Now walk.
"Where?"
I'm taking you to the Chamber of Secrets.
She burst into tears.
Stop that caterwauling. You've only brought this upon yourself.
Oh, Mummy, Daddy, I'm so sorry--
Shut up, he said absently. The first thing we're going to do is let him know where you've gone.
She stood in the Chamber of Secrets with the great statue at her back, but Ginny wasn't really aware of it. Whatever was left of her had curled into a tight ball inside her mind, repeating the same words over and over again.
Harry, please. Mummy, Daddy, please. Someone help me. Please Harry. Oh please oh please oh please
Stop that.
Please help oh HarryMummyDaddy please please
I said stop that, you twit.
harrypleasemummyhelpmedaddyplease
She screamed.
Something was tearing her apart from within, and the pain expanded in a dark bubble that filled her world and blotted out everything but itself. Agony, ripping pain--
Gone.
She crumpled to the stone floor of the Chamber, her body too weak to support her anymore. For a moment, the world faded before her eyes, and then it wavered back into view. Her hair spilled loose over her face and the dirty floor--she'd lost Carmen's hair clip somewhere. She couldn't even lift a hand to brush it aside, and she had to look through it like an orange cloud.
A blurred figure stood over her, black robed, black-haired. "H-Harry?" she whispered, straining to lift her heavy body. "Y-you came for me . . ."
The figure crouched, and several oddities registered. His hair was much neater than Harry's had ever attempted to be. He wore no glasses, and he sported no scar.
The boy smiled slowly, his green, green eyes glittering in a way that Harry's never had. "It's me."
"Tom," she breathed, and then everything went dark.
As they stepped into the third-floor hallway, Jeremy was in a bad mood. "Come on, Carmen, stop worrying about her. She's probably in class already. We're going to get in trouble."
"I'm telling you, she was acting strange this morning." Carmen stared around the hall. "Funny--I could have sworn I saw her come up this way--"
"So? She's always strange. You're always strange. Why are girls so weird?"
"You didn't see her, Jeremy! She had something on her mind, and it must have been absolutely awful." Carmen sighed. "Sometimes I feel like she's got secrets that we're never going to know."
"You've been reading those dumb magazines. So what if she's not telling you something?"
Carmen pulled a face and groaned "Boys!"
He opened his mouth to retort, but a squeaky voice interrupted. "What are you doing up here?"
Jeremy groaned, and Carmen spun around. "Professor Flitwick!"
The little Charms professor was scuttling down the corridor towards them. "I know the Mandrakes are almost ready, but that doesn't mean the monster in the Chamber of Secrets is no longer around! Come along, I'm taking you to class--"
"Professor," Carmen blurted, "have you seen Ginny Weasley?"
Professor Flitwick paused. "No--"
"We're looking for her--"
"Carmen, lay off--" Jeremy muttered.
Carmen shook off Jeremy's hand. "We haven't seen her since breakfast, and we were worried--"
"She should be in class. Come along, you're due in Potions, aren't you? Off we go!"
"Oh, please, Professor, won't you at least let me check the bathroom? Just for a moment. What could it hurt?"
He hesitated, but Carmen said again, "Please?"
"Very well," he said. "Quickly, Miss Jordan, quickly!"
Carmen dashed down the corridor toward the bathroom, but she skidded to a halt before she even got there. "Professor Flitwick!"
On the wall opposite the bathroom, the warning about the Chamber of Secrets remained. But now, just underneath it, dripping letters read, One has been taken. Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever . . .
Jeremy and Professor Flitwick stopped just behind her. The little Charms professor slumped back against the wall, his hand over his heart. "Great Merlin!"
"But who?" Jeremy asked, investigating the letters. "It doesn't say who!" He looked at Carmen, the dawn of fear in his eyes. "You don't s'pose--but she's not--"
Professor Flitwick had recovered himself a little. "Albus--no, Minerva needs to know--come along, children, quickly now--"
Carmen's foot hit something that clanged and jingled across the stone floor. Momentarily distracted, she bent to pick it up, then let out a shrill scream that stopped the two males in their tracks.
"What is it?"
"What--"
Carmen burst into tears and held out the little silver clip. "Ginny," she wept. "Oh, Professor Flitwick, Ginny!"
Ginny felt curiously insubstantial, a soft fog drifting whichever way the wind blew it. She didn't like it above half.
And she kept dissipating, spreading further and further out. She tried to gather herself together, and found nothing to gather. Where was it all? Where was she all? There was just enough of her to realize how little there was. Tom had taken it. Tom had taken her from herself, until there was barely enough of her to be a her anymore. And it kept pulling away, tendrils of fog drifting away from the main cloud, shrinking it faster and faster all the time.
No!
And then it all came back in a rush, bringing with it a piercing pain that flashed for a hot red moment and then was gone.
She burst through to consciousness like a diver breaking the surface. She could feel her fingers again, her toes--she remembered that she had fingers and toes--lovely!
She opened her eyes and blinked several times. There was no heaviness, no langour. Her strength was all her own again. Her limbs trembled as she pushed herself up, as if they were quite as surprised to be back under her mastery as she was to have it.
She was awake and alive. Did that mean that Tom was gone? She had her self back again, and he never would have let her go of his own accord.
She pushed her hair out of her face. Then she saw the black-robed, black-haired figure at the far end of the Chamber, and for one instant, her entire body clenched in fear.
It was him. He'd let her wake for another one of his horrid games. Maybe he'd wanted her to know it when he fed her to that dirty great snake . . .
Which was sprawled across the Chamber, its head lying in a pool of blood.
Her eyes flashed back to the figure now rushing toward her, and registered the wildness of his hair, the glint of his glasses in the torchlight.
Harry.
He looked very small, and very battered, and very bloody. There was a long tear in one of his sleeves, blood soaking the edges, but unaccountably, the arm inside looked perfectly fine. In that hand, he held (of all things) the school Sorting Hat, and in the other, an enormous sword, shining silver under blotches of dark, wet blood. Half his face was near-black with dirt, and the pink patches shone with sweat, and his hair was wilder than ever. But his eyes were bright with anxiety behind his glasses, which sat crooked on his nose.
Harry!
She burst into tears.
"Harry--" she blubbered, "oh, Harry--I tried to tell you at b-breakfast, but I c-couldn't say it in front of Percy--" She could hardly speak, but she couldn't stop either--it was as if a dam had burst inside of her, and if he wanted to hate her he could jolly well hate her because she had to say it. "It was me, Harry--but I--I s-swear I d-didn't mean to--" She couldn't say Tom, she just couldn't. "R-Riddle made me, he t-took me over--and--how did you kill that--that thing? W-where's Riddle? The last thing I r-remember is him coming out of the diary--"
But his eyes didn't narrow, and his mouth didn't turn down. Instead, he held up the diary and said quickly, "It's all right, Riddle's finished. Look! Him and the basilisk."
Ginny gaped at the diary, which had a huge, shining claw or fang or something buried in the middle, and the pages were soggy with ink. She didn't pretend to understand, but it really was ruined, a complete wreck. Nobody would ever write into or out of it again.
"C'mon, Ginny, let's get out of here--"
Out of here? Out of here! Out of here to someone's office, some teacher . . . because of course they'd want to know . . .
"I'm going to be expelled!" she wailed, not even realizing that he had one hand under her elbow and was helping her up. "I've looked forward to coming to Hogwarts ever since B-Bill came and n-now I'll have to leave and--w-what'll Mum and Dad say?"
There was a beautiful red-gold bird hovering in the entrance of the Chamber, but Ginny couldn't spare any energy for curiosity right now. They had to climb over the dead body of the Basilisk, and her stomach turned at the thought of being this close to it, even if it couldn't hurt her anymore.
After her initial outpouring of the horrible truth, her insides were hollow and aching. She stayed silent, shivering and sticking close behind Harry as they trudged up the dark and dank corridor that Tom had led her down an eternity ago. Suddenly, Harry's head lifted, and his stride lengthened. "Ron!" he bellowed. "Ginny's okay! I've got her!"
Ginny looked up sharply. Ron was there? Ron was--?
Once again, her stomach turned. What would he say when Harry told him? For surely he would; they told each other everything.
There was a cheer, and then they turned a bend and Ginny saw her brother's face, peering dirty and disheveled through gap in a great pile of rock. "Ginny!" he yelped, shoving his hand out through the gap.
She took it reluctantly and he pulled her through, babbling all the while, "You're alive! I don't believe it! What happened?"
When she'd gained her feet again, he tried to hug her, but she pushed him away, breaking into fresh tears. He was never going to hug her again when he found out what she'd done--never, never--
"But you're okay, Ginny," he tried to reassure her, peering anxiously into her face. "It's over now, it's--where did that bird come from?"
"He's Dumbledore's," came Harry's voice as he squeezed through the gap and skidded down the other side.
"How come you've got a sword?" Ron asked.
Ginny cried harder than ever, thinking, Now he'll tell--
"I'll explain when we get out of here," Harry said in a low voice.
"But--"
"Later."
But it's only a temporary reprieve--
"Where's Lockhart?" Harry asked Ron.
"Back there. He's in a bad way. Come and see."
Ginny followed them automatically. She was too much of a mess to halfway pay attention to even the tableau of Lockhart, grimy and disheveled, sitting and humming to himself. As Ron explained to Harry something about Memory Charms, the bird landed next to Ginny and crooned at her.
Her tears slowed a little, and she reached out tentatively and petted it down along its neck and one wing. The golden feathers were soft and warm under her fingers. There was blood on its beak. "Poor bird," she whispered to it. "Did you get hurt?"
The bird tilted its head a little, then took off in a flurry of gold. Ginny found herself with a shining gold feather in her hand, about the length of an ordinary quill. It was still warm from the bird's body.
"He looks like he wants you to grab hold . . ." Ron was saying slowly. "But you're much too heavy for a bird to pull up there--"
"Fawkes isn't an ordinary bird," Harry said. His brows pulled together a moment. "We've got to hold on to each other. Ginny, grab Ron's hand."
Ginny made no move, but Ron reached out and caught her hand in his. They hadn't held hands for a few years, ever since Ron got old enough to be scornful of his little sister and had relegated her to their mother's care. Now his fingers were warm and strong around hers, as protective as they'd once been.
Harry continued. "Professor Lockhart--"
"He means you," Ron said to Lockhart.
"You hold Ginny's other hand--"
Ginny thrust the gold feather in her pocket just before Lockhart's limp hand bumped into her arm and she had to take it. All of a sudden, her body seemed to dissolve, becoming weightless. Suddenly terrified, she looked down at herself, but she was still there.
Then they were off, flying up through the pipes. The slimy walls and the washes of cold air brought back horrible half-remembered dreams, and she just wanted to kick Lockhart as he said, "Amazing! Just like magic!"
Then they thumped onto a hard, wet surface, skidding together and piling up like a three-broom collision.
Ginny lifted her head and blinked. They were back in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.
"You're alive," the ghost said to Harry.
"There's no need to sound so disappointed," he told her, cleaning his glasses on his robes.
"Oh, well . . . I'd just been thinking . . . if you had died, you'd have been welcome to share my toilet," she simpered.
Ron was delighted. "Urgh! Harry! I think Myrtle's got fond of you!" He elbowed Ginny in the ribs. "You've got competition, Ginny!"
But she had started crying again at the thought that Harry could have died in the Chamber of Secrets, right along with her. All the way down the corridor, as they followed Fawkes, Ron kept trying to pat her shoulder or look into her face, but she wouldn't let him.
They stopped in front of a door that Ginny didn't recognize. Harry knocked and pushed the door open.
And there--sitting in front of the fireplace--were her parents.