Our Diary

Chapter 3 -- Harry


Disclaimer

J.K. Rowling owns all these characters. I just elaborate on 'em. And in this chapter, I use small fragments from CoS, and those little bits, too, belong to her. So HA!

Author's Note

So it seems I'm finally updating... sorry it's taken so long, but I've been distracted by random blather. But I have re-re-read CoS to check up on chronological things, and I will probably be updating much more frequently now.

Thanks to all those who reviewed. And, ultra-violet-catastrophy: Yes, I agree, it is slightly odd that an 11-year-old would up and kiss this older guy. But, remember, she has been raised in a family of seven children, all of whom are male and older than her. So not only would she feel rather alone in this family (and not having attended wizarding school yet, she probably would not have many friends of her own age who are magical, who she thus could be completely open with), but she's probably been encouraged to emulate her brothers as well, and thus may try to be more mature than she actually is.

Erm. I'm confusing myself with that clumsy explanation of my reasoning. But -- on with the story. Enjoy.

All throughout her first day of classes at Hogwarts, Ginny's mind kept wandering back to Tom. During Transfiguration, she was twice reprimanded by Professor McGonagall for not paying attention, but nonetheless she could concentrate on little else. She wondered, many times, whether she shouldn't just take out the diary and write to him, but what if someone noticed those words she had not written appearing there on the page? Or what if he invited her to visit him inside one of those unstable semi-dimensions again?

So instead she simply eyed the diary, tucked inside her school bag, and waited impatiently for classes to end, scarcely paying attention to the curious and friendly glances of her new classmates.

When she was finally free, she fled back to her dormitory, and pulled out the diary, nearly dropping it in her eagerness. She opened it and wrote...

September 2

Dear Tom,
I am returned from my first day of school...

Ginny, dear! How was it?

Quite dull, in fact. I don't think anybody likes me, even in my own House...

Oh. By the way, which House did you end up getting sorted into?

Gryffindor. I was so happy, because that's the House all my family has been in. I was going to write and tell you last night, but, er, my brothers and Harry and Hermione all insisted on giving me all this food and singing loudly and stuff, to celebrate. And I felt a little bit... you know... awkward after what I said yesterday evening.

No need to feel awkward, dear.

Yeah. But, so, I had high hopes for today, based on that jollity last night with all my brother's friends. But today, nobody in my year would even really talk to me...

How terrible!

It might have been because, honestly, I kept thinking about -- oh, Christ. Never mind, I'm not going to finish that; it embarrasses me.

Ginny, do remember that I am a book and that I will not tell anybody. Nor will I judge you or, hah, ignore you like your new classmates seem to be doing.

Yeah, I know. It's just -- did you really mean what you told me, when I met you yesterday?

That I love you with all my heart and soul?

Erm. Yes. That.

Yes. I did mean it. And I still feel that way.

How can you be so sure? You've only known me a few days.

It has to do with, being an intelligent book, I am omniscient, and have knowledge of what is destined...

How do you mean?

Let's just say that I am sure.

Um. OK.

Ginny, love. Do tell me about your first day of school. So no one bothered to talk to you at all?

Well, this one kid who sat next to me in Charms did. Colin Creevey, I think he said his name was.

Do you like him?

Not really. He was sort of irritating. He somehow knew I was Harry Potter's best friend's sister, and he seemed creepily awed by that.

I hate how people only like you because you have "connections" or are friends with the right people.

Exactly!

But do continue, my sweet.

So Colin kept waving his camera at me. Actually, it was sort of funny. Professor Flitwick -- he teaches Charms -- got so irritated by Colin flapping around me that he waved his wand, making Colin's camera float up in the air so as Colin could not get it.

That must have been hilarious.

Heh, yes, it was. I didn't think you would be amused...

Of course I am. You should be more confident in yourself, dear.

I try, but I'm sort of shy.

You don't seem it.

I actually am. Especially when I'm around Harry -- I get all nervous and start dropping things and being disgustingly clumsy.

Ah, Harry again. Just to help me, ah, understand the attraction... why don't you tell me some about what you know about him, why you like him, and such?

Okay. I first saw him when I went with my family to see Ron off to Hogwarts, last year. He asked my mum how to get through Platform 9 3/4 -- he was raised by Muggles, so he didn't know -- can you imagine? And, I don't know... It might have been partly that I've known his story ever since I was two, practically.

His story? Do tell.

Really? I would have thought everybody knew that.

Not I.

Oh. Well, when he was only a year old, You-Know-Who killed his parents. And he tried to kill Harry too, But somehow the spell You-Know-Who was using rebounded, and destroyed You-Know-Who instead. And that left Harry with this odd lightning-bolt scar on his forehead.

That sounds like some doxy tale.

I know. But it's true.

Who is -- was -- this You-Know-Who you mention?

He was an evil wizard, a terrible man who killed a bunch of people and tried to take over, and stuff.

How descriptive. But does he not have a name?

We're not supposed to say it.

What silliness. If he is indeed destroyed, what harm can it do to say his name?

I don't know.

Write his name, here on the page, dear.

Ginny did not know how it happened, but she found herself compelled to write the name, unable to resist doing the task...

"Lord Voldemort," she wrote slowly, hand trembling. For that brief moment, she would have liked nothing better than to be safe and held in the arms of Harry, or her mother, or anybody, as far away from the little red book as could be possible. A shudder ran down her spine as she struggled to control what her treacherous hand was doing, and then -- it was over. Her hand flew back and hit her in the face before she could cease her frantic attempts to free it from whatever was controlling it. The ink melted into the page and disappeared, and she could have sworn the book felt somehow a bit heavier on her lap.

She wrote, again, her hand shaking with combined fear and anger now.

What the hell was that, Tom?

Of what do you speak?

Don't try to play stupid with me! I trusted you! And suddenly I had no control--

I assure you, dear, I did nothing. It is ridiculous to think that a mere book could control your actions! It must have been an impulse on your part.

It is ridiculous to think a book could control me. I suppose it was just some impulse of mine.

Good girl.

Er...

So this crush of yours, Harry Potter, killed Lord Voldemort.

Please! Don't say, don't even write, the name!

Would you mind if I took the liberty of comforting you, dear?

Ginny felt horrified by the thought, although she could not discern why. Surely, she thought, there was nothing wrong with seeing him again. She must have just frightened herself in the process of writing You-Know-Who's name. And, she told herself, she knew she lo-- cared for him. No reason to be so silly about the whole thing, like some ... ridiculous little child. And Tom had said he loved her with such confidence... so undoubtedly he would never do anything to hurt her...

"OK," she wrote, and, mollified slightly by the pleasantly familiar little square that appeared on the page, she gazed at it, and felt the ground dropping away as she flew into the image.

Once again, she landed softly, only this time on a surface that seemed to be a thick sort of fabric. She sat where she had landed for a few moments as her eyes adjusted to the dim light. Finally, she could discern that she was in some sort of richly decorated room. The walls were hung with tapestries that, while bearing no recognizable pattern, reminded Ginny of a bed of serpents. She shook off the fanciful idea that they were watching her, and stood, looking around for Tom.

He was sitting, head bowed, at a low wooden table upon which rested a delicate silver candle, which was burning with a bright coppery flame. As she approached, she was amazed to see equally silvery tears at the corners of his eyes.

"Wh-- Tom?"

"Ginny, I am sorry. I am unspeakably sorry. I saw that I frightened you--" he waved aside her noise of protest, "--so I beg of you, my love... Please believe that I would never do anything to hurt you. I do love you so."

The sight of this gorgeous boy, so much older than her, crying because he thought he had upset her-- Ginny bit her lip, and pulled him into a fierce hug. "Tom, darling. You didn't upset me. And I believe you. I know you would never hurt me..."

He grabbed her chin and turned her face towards his own. "Do you love me with all your soul, Ginny?"

"I--" She looked at him, at the unendingly sad but somehow impatient expression in his eyes. "I do." The ghost of a smile made its way onto his lips, and, suddenly, he moved forward and kissed her. One of his silvery tears fell onto her cheek, and, for some reason, it hurt as though a burning match was pressed there. She pulled back and brushed at the tear, and then felt herself falling into nothingness before landing back in her dormitory. Her cheek still hurting sharply, she smiled vaguely and saw that Tom had written something...

Ahem. I am sorry for that odd little display of emotion, Ginny. I just-- I know what it is like to be alone, even amongst a crowd of people... having no one really know you, or understand those common everyday things you have to endure...

No one's ever understood me like you, Tom...

And I doubt anybody else ever will. But I, on the other hand, will always know how you feel...

And I think I know how you feel, too, most of the time.

I sincerely doubt it.

I-- I didn't mean--

Oh no, I am not attacking you, love. But I think you will have to write with me quite a while longer before you can truly know how I feel. Ah, and now I do detect footsteps. One of your dormitory-mates seems to be coming. So fare thee well, dear Ginny.

I love you. It's so much easier to write that in a book like this, where the ink disappears just after I have written it, leaving no visible trace of the affection I have for you.

How very amusing. And goodbye, sweet Ginny!

Ginny closed the book just as the door to the dormitory opened, and a small dark-haired girl walked in, smiling shyly at Ginny.

"Hi, I'm Tricia," squeaked the girl. "And you're Ginny Weasley, right? You know Harry Potter!"

Ginny nodded, frowning, and remembering what Tom had said about those people who liked you only because you knew someone famous. Tricia looked slightly put off, but continued smiling hopefully. She chirped, "Hey, do you want to go take a look at the lake? I'd love to see the giant squid someday!"

Ginny looked at her coolly, and shook her head vaguely. Muttering something about homework, she tucked the diary under her arm and left Tricia standing there and looking highly confused.

As she strode away, fuming, Ginny reflected on how very right Tom had been...