A/N:
A very, very short one-shot on Ginny's first discovery of the diary. Nothing special. May add later chapter if it piques interest. Was just lying in my mind for a while and, well, decided to share it.
Ginny has been my favorite over Hermione with Tom just because there's so much history there and she's so feisty. Not that I don't love ones of Hermione. Just a preference.
Hogwarts Library
September 1992
Dust motes lingered in the air, spiraling amongst the cracks of light that flashed through cut, stained glass windows. Lightning forked across the skies as rain pelted the ornate panes; the skies painted a dreary grey against the rounded, blackened turrets below.
The forlorn atmosphere matched her exact state, significantly. Huddled against a secluded bookcase, knees pulled up to her chest. The Gryffindor crest on her robes glimmered in the faint light as if reminding her of where she came from. However, it did nothing to lift her darkened mood and more tears trailed down her pale, freckled face. Her eyes were puffy and red from crying, the cerulean color like the shallow waters of an ocean eclipsed by her darkening mood. She sniffled and wiped her nose off the hem of the trumpet sleeves. "Oh bugger, going to have to wash that."
Her gaze shifted to the stack of books aside her. Picking up the worn, secondhand copy of The Beginners Guide to Transfiguration,, the remnants of age permeated the air as she flipped the tattered cover that crackled open. Worn from years past, her eyes rested on the name scrawled across with a slight splotch of ink: Ginevra Molly Weasley 1992.
Weasley.
The surname that was their families signature. Yet they were often belittled for their crooked old homestead known as the Burrow, located at St. Ottery Catchpole. Stereotyped for their distinguished features of red hair and freckled faces, they were looked further down upon by their hand-me-down clothes. It did not help they had an eccentric though lovable father passionate about muggle artifacts which kept him well preoccupied in the Department of Misuse of Muggle Artifacts at the Ministry of Magic. While their mother, ever a rotund matron with a keen eye for a needle and yarn, cleaned, and concocted homemade meals to keep their bellies full, with the household ran like a tight ship.
With strict mannerisms to keep them all straight.
Raising six grown teenage boys had no doubt, given her mother a few stray grays over the years. Particularly when it came to her devious twin brothers, Fred and George. Constantly were their mischievous machinations getting them into trouble, especially at Hogwarts. Ginny had lost track on the number of Howlers she'd seen her mum send over the years. So it was without a doubt a relief when fate had gifted her a baby girl as if giving her mother a break from all the congested testosterone.
As such Ginny had been gifted with a lot of firsts in her life and learned to be grateful for what her mother had provided. Being a sister amongst brothers had given her mother the first birthday for a daughter. A first shopping trip for new clothes. First haircut-not done in the kitchen chair as her mum had done every summer for the boys.
Being their only daughter, she'd been given a close relationship with her mum. Including a brand-new pair of robes from funds set aside by her mum out of compassion. She'd honestly wanted Ginny to be confident for her first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Which having grown up with only brothers, had thickened Ginny's skin against the atypical taunts from her siblings. Giving her a bolder voice and furthering her drive for the aspirations much sought.
However, there were times she could be meek and even emotional. After all, she was still a female. However few times that was, the Slytherins had been relentless in their pursuit of her. Harsher than any teasing from her normal, familial brood.
Other than the confrontation she'd faced at home, Ginny had never experienced real and true cruelty from another individual. At face value. Even being so young and naïve to the world outside the Burrow, she hadn't understood the full ramifications of how the wizarding world perceived her family. She'd always been proud of how their meager family managed, Especially given their morality which they'd made sure to instill in Ginny and her siblings. So to hear they were some sort of blood traitors for treating muggles and muggle-borns alike as equals had been a shock to her psyche. Always had she believed her ancestral line to be quite valiant for their bravery and compassion for others. Like her uncles Fabian and Gideon Prewett who had prevailed in the first Wizarding War—before their untimely deaths.
But then had come Diagon Alley's incident at Flourish and Blotts bookstore. After a grudging photo op involving the infamous Harry Potter for the Dailey Prophet complete with signed books from her mum's fancy, Gilderoy Lockhart himself.
"Bet you loved that didn't you, Potter? Famous Harry Potter, can't even go to a book shop without making the front page."
"Leave him alone."
"Oh look, Potter. You got yourself a girlfriend..."
"Now now, Draco, play nicely. Mr. Potter, Lucius Malfoy. We meet at last—forgive me. Your scar is a legend, as of course the wizard who gave it to you."
"Voldemort killed my parents. He was nothing more than a murderer…"
The Boy-Who-Lived: Harry Potter. Admittedly, he'd been a long-time crush of hers from the moment she'd first laid eyes on him. His bright green eyes reminded her of emeralds behind his thick-rimmed glasses and black hair that fell against a lightning bolt-shaped scar. Which only added to his intrigue, and she thought him brave.
"Mm… you must be very brave to mention his name. Or very foolish…"
Facing off with the one smarmy git named Draco Malfoy had been nothing compared to facing the head of the serpent himself: Lucius Malfoy.
"Fear the name only increases the fear of the thing itself."
"And you must be, Ms. Granger. Yes, Draco has told me all about you and your parents. Muggles, aren't they?"
Ginny herself had never particularly liked what she knew of the Malfoys. Especially how they looked at muggles. She couldn't imagine the hurt Hermione must've felt being degraded so crudely.
"Let's see red hair, vacant expressions. Tatty, secondhand book. You must be the Weasleys."
"Children, it's mad in here let's go outside."
"Well, well, well, Weasley senior."
"Lucius."
Or how Lucius treated her father.
"Busy time at the Ministry, Arthur? All those extra raids. I do hope they're paying you over time. But judging by the state of this, I'd say not. What's the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don't even pay you well for it?"
At least her father had some backbone, this not being their first row as she'd heard over the dinner table one time too many.
"We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy."
"Clearly, associating with muggles. And I thought your family could sink no lower... I'll see you at work…"
Unfortunately for Ginny, it hadn't ended there. Instead, she'd become the butt of a joke from none other than Draco Malfoy and his cronies as their new target for ridicule.
"Pining for the Potter, Weasel?"
Malfoy.
"Off to make a love potion for Potter, Weasel?"
Parkinson.
"Is that dirt or freckles Weasley? A stain on the Purebloods no doubt, what dirty blood."
Nott.
"Hey Weasley, those another hand-me-down robes? You missed a stitch."
Crabbe.
"Pansy, do you reckon she cut her own hair? By Salazar, could almost resemble another Weasley boy!"
Malfoy.
"Ugly, filthy muggle lover. Doesn't look like genetics have done you good."
Zabini.
"A mockery to all Purebloods, red-haired bint."
Goyle.
As the words circled back to her a fresh batch of tears pricked her eyes. Of course, had she told her brothers of the harassment she'd been through in just the first week, their arses would be toast. However, it would only show the Slytherin brood the effect their words had. And that, she refused to succumb to. But it was drawing her more aware of the rift there truly was between Slytherins and every other house. Even as an actual Pureblood of the Sacred 28. This was scaled and weighed much more differently when it came to her family, however.
She despised the ill-treatment, and it made her feel like a pariah purposely outed for her lineage. "Right foul git." Ginny exhaled as a slight tremble rippled down her spine. With a quick shake of her head as if it would rid her of such thoughts, she pulled on the strap to her frayed satchel, rummaging for a parchment, ink, and quill.
Though she was younger than the second years, she never wanted to act like the typical eleven-year-old. Raised alongside boys had hardly left anytime for self-pity much less dramatics. Like when she's scuffed her knee after sneaking Charlie's broom for the first time out of the closet. After finally being fed up with her brother's exclusion involving broomsticks. She knew if she had cried about it they would only tease her more. So as she'd done then, she'd suck it up and keep on.
She'd already wasted half of her Friday evening holed up in the corner of the library. Best to start her Transfiguration essay before Hogwarts brightest witch, Hermione Granger, caught wind of her procrastination. Yet, just as she'd pulled out her ink bottle—
A black, leather-bound book toppled to the ground.
What the bloody…
Puzzled, Ginny picked it up. Hesitantly, she slipped one digit into the lip of the book the pages textured as she flipped it open. To her inert confusion, the worn, yellowed paper was… blank.
That's… odd.
She didn't recollect purchasing this. Judging by the fine leather and gilded corners, it was hardly economical. Certainly not within her family's means.
Merlin's beard…
It was ornate and rich in color. A satin, black ribbon sectioned a page; a marker. Perhaps a diary?
With a glance around before returning her attention to the book, Ginny grasped the spine with one hand. Sifting through the pages that whispered under the pad of her fingertips upon each turn, focused, cerulean eyes framed in amber lashes lifted upon skimming for an entry or content. Alas, to no avail.
They're… all blank.
With one furrowed as she adjusted this… diary—in its conclusion—she propped it up against her knees, her homework forgotten. She simply stared, somewhat bewitched. It was beautiful the ebony cover was smooth and easily mounted. The curiosity burned within her like a struck match and her eyes sparked with intrigue. Grasping her feathered quill, she raised pen to page and the sharpened tip scratched across in long, loops of cursive. It flowed, smooth, and effortless.
And thus… her first entry was created.
September 3rd, 1992
Hello… diary is it? I'm Ginevra, Ginevra Molly Weasley. I reckon this will become mine seeing as I haven't found a name or a date belonging to a person. I've… never written in a diary before. It's my first year here at Hogwarts. A grueling first week at that. Currently, I am sitting in the library's stacks. Or should I admit to hiding from a certain pair of bloody Slytherins? I admit I'm quite reluctant to face a snobbish prat such as the likes of a Malfoy, Draco Malfoy...
