Ginny Weasley and the Memory of Power" by Jedi Amoira
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Disclaimer--If you see something you like just assume I don't own it, and you'll be fine. I hope JK Rowling, the movies, and my fellow fanfic writers take my imitation in the manner in which it is meant--sincere flattery of their skills. The Hufflepuffs conversation and Harry's responses are taken directly from the book, while the idea of Ginny overhearing them is from the extra scenes on the dvd. No copyright infrigement is intended by this, and no money is being made.

A/N--I have some great reviewers, but an author writes for praise. If you like it, please say so. And please respect my work and don't print or post it elsewhere without my knowledge. Thanks!

SunshineStargirl--Thanks :-) I hope you keep reading!

EEDOE--I like the idea of Ginny as mature for her age...the contrast between her usual behavior and her involvement with the diary underlines the fact that she is still, ultimately, a lost little girl. And...I have to admit, I like her as a kitten with claws--everyone needs a dark side. ;-) I'm really flattered by your high opinion of my story (and will think of it proudly and often), but I wouldn't sell yours short either--I think it shows a creativity and fearlessness I admire and probably lack. :-)

Bill--I do think that's the moment when Riddle really starts to contemplate how many parallels there are between himself and Harry, and it is definitely the calm before the storm...I hope you like the way the storm breaks. ;-) I love the humor that infuses the Harry Potter stories, so it's great you see a similar humor in this story...I thought the Eton/eaten remark was too funny to pass up. Thanks for the email!

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She was looking for Harry...but, somehow, Moaning Myrtle's bathroom was the first place she ended up. Frowning, bewildered and frustrated, she turned to go and walked inside. Myrtle was wailing in the stall on the end...the sobs sounded muffled, and hollow, as if she were in the toilet. Ginny shuddered at the mental image.

Feeling oddly detached from herself, Ginny sidled up to the mirror, and peered into its depths. Gray eyes stared back over her shoulder, level and calm. Seeing them filled her with an odd spurt of relief, but she didn't have the slightest idea why. Her lips moved. "Hello," she said, testing, her voice unfamiliar against the backdrop of Myrtle's mourning.

"Hello," the boy in the mirror said, and somehow, she heard his voice in her head. "It's nice to see you again."

"Yes," Ginny said, dazed. "But I don't know why I'm here...I'm looking for Harry."

"Why?" The boy sounded amused. "He won't be as happy to see you as I am."

Ginny sighed. That was undoubtedly true. "I want to ask him about Parseltongue."

"Fascinating language," the face in the mirror said, and Ginny felt as if she could see the words written stark and black across her thoughts...she felt heavy, sleepy, almost drugged...She struggled to stay awake, to keep her eyes open. "Why don't you try speaking it?"

"Here?" Ginny asked blankly, swaying on her feet. "But there aren't any snakes."

"Why not just talk to the snake etched on that tap?" The face in mirror suggested with a look that brought the word beguiling to mind for some reason...

"Well..." Ginny hesitated.

"You know you want to," the boy prompted. "Go on...see what it's like."

She didn't want to...and yet...the urge to see what it was like was suddenly overwhelming. Ginny crouched down and stared at the tap.

Ginny started to ask what should say, but she was already speaking... "Come to me, my servant. Come destroy and taste the blood of the unworthy..." Buried somewhere deep in the crushing exhaustion and dazed sense of the surreal, Ginny wondered What does that mean? But she could hear the answer, hissing and humming through the pipes all around her. *Blood, I smell blood...So Hungry...Kill...Rip...Tear...* and something dark and primal and intoxicating surged through her blood in answer.

"Open." Ginny said, and the sinks shook violently, pulling apart so that the floor between them opened into a dark, depthless brink. A great mass surged upward and forward, scraping rough scales against her skin in a way that sparked excitement as it pushed past her. Ginny glanced back at the mirror, and the boy smiled at her.

"You begin to have the slightest inkling," he said, sounding so much like she had in the library she stared in open-mouthed awe. "Of power."

"I'm evil, aren't I?," Ginny whispered.

The boy laughed. It was the high, cold, fear-inspiring sound from her dreams. Ginny flinched slightly, which only made the boy grin indulgently. "Ginny, Ginny," he said, shaking his head. "There is no good or evil. Only Power...and those too weak to use it."

"No," Ginny said slowly. "No...that can't be true..."

"Oh?" The dark-haired boy looked at her like Mum did when she was trying to explain something Ginny didn't want to hear. "Why is that?"

"Because...we could all do whatever...whatever...felt good...whatever we want," Ginny said, putting a hand to her head. The pain was making it hard to see, things were going in and out of focus.

"We can," the boy said. "You just did."

She frowned. What had she just done? Her skin stung. She reached down to touch it and felt raw, rough skin. A scrape...scales...a serpent...Colin cold and white, falling backward, a scream...

"Colin," Ginny whispered. She looked the boy in the mirror directly in the face and said a little loudly, "No! I don't want to hurt anyone."

The boy laughed again. "You taste my power, Ginny Weasley," he said gently. "You do what I want."

"I'm not going to do anything just because you tell me," Ginny insisted, rubbing at her temples.

"I don't have to tell you," the boy said simply. "All I have to do is want it."

"No!" Ginny screamed, so loudly the doors on all the stalls swung a bit. Myrtle stopped crying. The pain in Ginny's head flared, and began to subside. Slowly, afraid of what she would see, Ginny looked in the mirror.

Her face looked back at her, pale and drawn, her eyes glowing owlishly amber over dark half moons on her cheeks. She was tired, but her limbs felt lighter, less constrained, as if she had been moving through mud that had suddenly dried up. "Did that really happen, or did I just make it up?" Ginny asked her reflection. It stared mutely back at her, the brilliance of her ruddy hair making it seem ominously alight.

"If I made it up, I'm mad," Ginny said flatly. Her reflection didn't waver.

"If I didn't..." Ginny licked lips gone suddenly dry. "What if I've killed someone?" How could she ever hope to set things right if she had? What would Harry say? Or Mum and Dad? Or Ron...

"Ooh...talking to yourself," Myrtle crooned from the stall. "Aren't you pathetic?"

"Least I'm not crying inside a toilet," Ginny snarled, and immediately regretted it when fat tears began to roll down Myrte's cheeks.

"Oh, Myrtle, don't cry. I didn't mean it."

"Sure, be rude to Myrtle, she doesn't mind, it's not like she has any feelings, being dead!" Myrtle screeched, diving back into her toilet with a splash.

Ginny sighed, but she didn't have time to waste waiting on Myrtle to reappear so she could apologize. She had to go find out what that snake had done. What she had done.