Being controlled

She sat on the ledge of the windowsill, staring out across the lake and watching as leaves fell, rippling the surface and gradually coating it in autumn tones. A long, thin, tentacle reached softly out of the water, hardly creating an interruption on the cover that continued to flutter down to the glimmering lake, and shuffled some of the coating from its path, then retracted back into the darkness and mystery of the depths of Hogwarts Lake. It was Halloween, but she couldn't go down to the banquet now. It was too late anyway, and she was still confused about what had just happened.

The diary…

It still sat open at the dormitory desk, her quill dried up and lying beside it. She smoothly slid off the windowsill and crept across the dormitory, though she wasn't sure what she was creeping for. Sliding silently into the seat that accompanied the rough wooden desk, she looked at the page the diary was open at. It showed her flowing writing, rounded and elegant across the page. Then below it was another style of handwriting. Had another of the girl's been writing in it? No, she knew their handwriting, and none of theirs was like that.

But what was written? It looked like a conversation, an unspoken discovery.

"Dear Diary"

"You know I'm not just a diary. Well, not an empty one."

"Who wrote that? If this is one of Fred and George's ideas..."

"Who are Fred and George?"

"My twin brothers. I wouldn't be surprised if they'd done this."

"No, this isn't Fred or George. Try looking on the back."

"T. M. Riddle? I don't think I know you…"

"Probably not, since Dumbledore's in charge. You might have heard of me...but that's unimportant. Who are you?"

"Ginny Weasley. I'm in my first year at Hogwarts. All my brothers have gone before me though. They might know you."

"Unlikely. I haven't been to Hogwarts for a long time. I'm thinking about coming back though."

"Really? Could I meet you?"

"Yes."

"When are you coming back? When can I meet you?"

"Right now."

Ginny remembered nothing after that. Just a dreaded cold, freezing her slowly. Then a voice, telling her what to do.

Looking to the clock she saw it was getting late. She didn't dare write in the diary again. Not after she woke up on the soaked floor of the girl's bathroom, Moaning Myrtle staring at her like someone had died.

"You….you…have to go…don't come back…take your diary with you. GO!"

She sat up, shaking, and caught sight of how pale her face was, how dead she looked. Her hair hung limp and wet round her shoulders, dripping eerily to the cold, tiled floor, echoing around the high ceilings. Myrtle looked genuinely distraught, curled up on the window ledge protectively. And she too was shaking, even though it was a warm autumn evening. Ginny splashed through the cold water, clutching the small black book to her chest, soaking her cloaks even more, tears of fear and stress streaming down her face; she picked up speed as she made her way down the empty corridors of Hogwarts. She could hear commotion coming from the great hall as the feast got into full swing. Then she rounded a corner, only to hear her brother's own voice.

"Pudding might not be finished yet"

She backed up against the wall, waiting for them to pass into the other corridor. But they didn't come. They stopped. She felt the power come up and take over her mind.

"No," she whispered "not now. Not again."

Then she heard the whisper of that creature. The hiss that she was somehow familiar with.

"…rip…tear…kill…"