It lives! And this is one of the longer chapters, so…great. Yeah. Only one more chapter left after this, and it'll be finished. Thanks to those that reviewed!
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to J.K. Rowling. But you're all smart – you've figured that out already.
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Fake
Chapter 5
It happened again. It was like a crushing weight on her soul, walking past the hospital wing and seeing the figures in the beds. Two lying down, and one floating above the sheets, all the eyes blank and staring. She shuddered every time she walked past the hospital wing, but tears never rose to the surface. She had cried too much already – she was out of tears.
But what was worse – much, much worse – was that Harry was now being blamed for it. He had been found next to the bodies. Now her idiotic twin brothers tormented him at every possible opportunity: pretending to ward him off with garlic, asking him who he was planning to attack next…she tried to get them to stop, of course. That's not to say it worked.
But Harry seemed to be taking it well enough. He wasn't shaking and pale like she was half the time. She had to admire his strength throughout the whole ordeal. Maybe the knowledge that he wasn't the one attacking their classmates kept him from losing it. She was surprised she hadn't snapped yet.
Well? She had demanded of Tom. How are you going to explain this one?
I wish I could say I knew how to stop it, Ginny…but I honestly don't.
You always know, she had scribbled furiously. Always. How is that, Tom?
I don't understand.
Yes, you do. I can't deny it any more; you're doing something to me. The more I tell you, the more I have to tell you. And the more it goes on, the more I feel like I'm not myself anymore. If you don't tell me, I'm getting rid of this book. And then we'll see if it stops. Answer me. If you don't, I swear I throw the book away.
You're being irrational. Throwing the book away will do nothing – it will continue.
That's it. You're gone.
She felt liberated suddenly, like a weight had been slung off her shoulders. She stood up and was about to close the book when the words came…
It won't stop, never. You've given me too much.
With a strangled gasp, she snapped the book shut. She tucked it under her arm and left the common room. She wasn't sure what she was going to do with it, but she didn't want to dispose of it in the common room. There was no fire yet – she couldn't burn it. And if she tossed it in a bin anyone could fish it out and it would only keep going. She skidded to a stop outside a familiar door. The painted words were still there; nothing Filch had done had erased them. And inside…Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. No one ever went in her bathroom.
"Perfect," she muttered, and pushed the door open, running to a random stall and cocking her arm.
"Goodbye, 'Tom'," she said through clenched teeth, and threw…
A miserable moan cut through the silence. It echoed off the linoleum, and she looked up to find that she had thrown the book straight through Moaning Myrtle herself.
"Uh…Myrtle!"
"You…you…"
Silvery tears were running down the ghostly girl's face. She shrieked suddenly as though burned, miserable wails echoing off the walls. She muttered something through her sobs and dove downwards, splashing Ginny with water.
"Yuck! I'm sorry already! Bloody ghost…"
Ginny shook her hands, sending droplets of water everywhere, and stomped out of the bathroom. She was damp and she was trembling, but she was free…free of that horrible book! She could have danced down the corridors. She had heard that the Mandrakes would revive the people in the hospital wing, so now, since she wouldn't be attacking everyone else, everything would go back to normal. She would never have to admit to anything.
She beamed and headed back to the common room to change and dry off before dinner. Things would finally be all right again…
So of course it all had to go drastically wrong.
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It had all started on Valentine's Day. Ginny didn't know what she had been thinking – maybe if she hadn't sent the stupid dwarf out she wouldn't have had to be dragged back into it. But as it was singing its horrible little song Malfoy had nipped something out of Harry's bag. Ginny only needed to glance at the black leather cover to know what it was. Her blood froze.
And Malfoy was too daft to realize it wasn't Harry's. How much more obvious could you get, having your bloody name right on the front? But Harry had retrieved it with a Disarming Spell, and Ginny was left with a new dilemma on her hands.
Maybe Harry hadn't discovered the secret of the diary yet. But if he hadn't, why would he bother getting it back? Of course, he wouldn't have settled for Malfoy stealing a quill – why should a book be any different? She had mulled over this for ages before snapping out of it. The point was that Harry had the diary. Whether or not he had figured out what it did wasn't the issue, really. The issue was how to get it back. Because once he started writing, and Tom started writing back…the school would be in danger once more, and Harry would be the attacker!
Bad, bad, and worse! She wasn't sure what to do. For a long time she wondered if she should even try to get it back at all. She would only be dragging herself into the whole mess again, when the blame had just been shifted from her direction. But she couldn't let Harry take responsibility if something happened. She had found the diary. She had started writing in it. She had attacked the people – under someone else's influence, of course, but it was still her – not Harry.
Finally, four months after the attack on Nick and Justin, she made her decision. While the rest of the house was away at dinner, and Harry at Quidditch practice, she had stolen up to the boy's dormitory and located Harry's bed. She ripped through pillows, searched under the mattress, emptied drawers, all in a frenzy. She kicked his trunk open and threw things helter-skelter in her search, frantically looking for – there!
She pulled out the black book with mixed triumph and dread. She hadn't wanted to see the book again…but she flew down the stairs and went back to her own dorm, glaring at the book as though it was alive.
It was a mistake, she was sure of it, but she flipped it open and grabbed a quill.
What have you done to Harry?
Ink swam idly back to the surface.
Dear Ginny, is that you? I've missed your liveliness. How have you been?
Don't try and lower my guard with your stupid small talk, "Tom", she scrawled, a scowl forming on her face. You've gone too far. What have you said to Harry?
Why, nothing that would incriminate you. I only showed him what happened fifty years ago…I believe you'll be missing a big friend of yours soon, if you get my drift…
She had no idea what he was talking about, actually, but she wasn't about to tell him that. She swallowed past a lump in her throat. If he had said something about her…she'd be kicked out! Locked away…all her fears would be realized. Ink was spreading out on the page again.
I'm glad you're back, Ginny. I was getting bored.
Bored of what?
There was no answer except for the splitting headache that followed her question. This time there was no drowsiness – she collapsed on the spot
-
There was hissing again; lots of it. The thing sounded gleeful, like it had just been given a treat. The green blur wound its way through a sea of grey, studded at regular points with warm light. Windows…
There were voices up ahead…girls' voices.
"Mirror…corner…"
They were by a corner. The thing turned, there was a scream…the green vanished, a sound like something heavy being pushed across the room…she woke.
