So, it occurred to me that I never included a chapter about quidditch. Whoops! Think of this like a throwback chapter.
Also, I know the diary was more like texting than letter writing, but I like to imagine that Riddle would wait to respond so it would be more like a letter with Ginny. As usual, likes, comments, suggestions, reviews, follows, etc. are appreciated.
Chapter 9 A Rough Game
After her talk with Professor Dumbledore, Ginny found herself lying awake under the thin hospital wing sheets, still attempting to sleep but continuing to fail. The darkened room provided little relief from the boredom, and she found herself daydreaming about a happier time in her life.
It was October 26th, a bright sunshine filled morning, the normal chill of the air was absent with the air of excitement taking its place.
She and Harry were nervous and showed it almost comically reversed ways. He found himself unable to eat, instead picking at his sausages until Ron and Hermione practically force fed him. She, on the other hand, was ravenous, and gulped down 3-4 plates of bacon sandwiches before Oliver Wood grabbed her and Harry to head down to the pitch.
The group were quiet as they walked down to the locker room. Even Fred and George seemed to be taking this match seriously. As Gryffindors, nothing was more important than beating Slytherin today.
Nothing.
Her energy was building with each step.
All those years of training in secret were to pay off today, she was sure.
Not twenty minutes passed, and Ginny was walking out onto the field grasping her Cleansweep six surrounded by her teammates. She couldn't help but glance over to Harry and grit her teeth nervously. The Slytherin seeker was significantly larger than him, larger than most seekers actually. She attributed this to the slytherin team being known for trying unusual strategies, something she could not fault them for.
The seven Gryffindors watched as the Slytherin team walked out of their locker room and approach the center field. Both teams mounted their brooms and took off. Ginny flew fast around the pitch, briefly flying close to the Gryffindor bench to deliver a swift wack to her twin, knocking his hat cleanly from his head.
Smiling at the laughter and swearing from the Gryffindor bench, she then flew to the center of the field once more and watched as the referee, Madam Hooch, rose into the air after releasing the snitch and the bludgers.
The hawk-eyed woman grasped the quaffle firmly in her hands. She looked around the circle of chasers, keepers, and beaters and announced that she wanted a clean game. She also gave a pointed look at Slytherin's captain Marcus Flint, and Ginny suspected that he may be one of the reasons for the need of that message.
But she had no time to dwell on this as Madam Hooch threw the ball high into the air.
Like she and the other chasers had planned, Alicia Spinnet grabbed the ball nimbly in the air. Ginny streaked down the field ready for the pass, keeping herself open.
Alicia waited until she was feet away from the hoops to pass to her and Ginny punched the ball forward through the open hoop.
Yes! They were already 10-0!
A couple of rounds of the typical quidditch up and down the field occurred with each team taking possession. It was clear, however, that Slytherin was not playing well today. Now 5 minutes in, Gryffindor was up 50 – 0 and Marcus Flint was becoming more and more frustrated.
Ginny didn't expect him to grab the beaters bat though. With a quick swing he knocked the bludger hurtling towards Oliver Wood.
Wood took the hit and fell from the hoops, somehow managing to stay on his broom until he was a couple of feet off the ground. He hit the sand and didn't rise.
She knew that Wood would want the team to carry on and they did. Or they tried to. It was very difficult to play without a keeper and another distraction soon took the Gryffindor team's focus.
Harry, who had been flying around above the action, searching for the snitch was now holding on to his broom with one hand. She and her brothers tried to grab him, but they could not approach, Harry's broom was to fast and seemed to be rocking faster when they approached.
As quickly as the incident had started though, it stopped, and Harry was able to once more straddle his broom and resume his hunt for the snitch.
Re-energised the Gryffindor chasers rammed back into play, with Angelina Johnson pulling off an especially exciting move that resulted in Flint being forced to fly into the tent structure on the edge of the field.
Ginny had watched Angelina Johnson score again when all of a sudden, the match was finished. She looked down to the ground and spotted Harry holding the snitch high above his head. She whooped with joy. The final score was 210 – 70, she couldn't be prouder of their team.
Ginny looked over at the bed next to her. It was currently vacant, but she could remember when she and her team had been standing beside Oliver Wood as he lay recovering from the game. His resilience was inspiring, and Ginny wasn't surprised to hear that he had snuck out later that day rather than wait for Madam Pomphrey to release him.
She looked down once more at her missing arm. It was different for her, how could she come back from this? She ground her teeth and blinked away the ever-present tears. Looking over at Harry, she thought briefly of attempting to wake him. She needed to talk to someone, anyone.
Then she got an idea. She could talk to Tom!
Reaching into her bookbag, she pulled out a leather-bound diary and flipped to the first page. She found herself having to keep the page open by holding the front page of the book down with her leg. Dipping her quill into the ink well, she began to write.
Dear Tom,
Hi Tom! I hope you are well. I… well… I'm not. I lost my arm. It seems silly saying it but its gone forever and I miss it. I hate looking at this stump and I feel so damn useless. Do you have any advice? I'd really appreciate it.
Best Regards,
Ginny
Dear Ginny,
I am devastated to here of your difficulties and empathise deeply with your pain. I must ask, how did this atrocious thing happen? I wish I could be there with you to ease your pain. I terms of advice, I confess I might be disappointing. You are however, a woman of immense strength and I assure you that you can carry on. I desire to hear more of your troubles as I sense that it will ease your burden.
Hoping to hear more from you,
Tom Riddle
