Second year, part two.
After a tearful goodbye from her parents at the station, Ginny boarded the Hogwarts Express and began searching for a compartment.
The first few rooms she passed were occupied, filled with older students who looked at her with cool, assessing eyes as she peeked into their stalls.
Based on what she'd heard from Fred and George, no one knew exactly what had happened with her and Tom and the Chamber, but the Hogwarts rumour mill was legendary. They might not know, precisely, that she had been possessed by Voldemort 'Tom' but they knew that she had been involved, somehow, and that was enough to make them eye her with suspicion.
Enough to make their gazes burn into her skin.
It was clear that there had been some rumours about her. Some of the groups of students streaming down the train paused as they passed her, looking at her for a moment before continuing.
She was about a third of the way down the hallway before the train began to move, departing the station with a lurch.
Her heavy trunk pulled her off balance and she fell, knocking into the glass door to her left with a crash.
A moment after she regained her feet and began walking again, the door opened.
"Ginny? Did you want to come and sit with us?"
"Hi, Luna," she said, turning her head with a small sigh, "I just fell against the door, but-"
"If you and your friend want to come in," a petulant voice from within the compartment called, "then do it. Don't just leave the door open like an idiot."
'Luna and her Ravenclaw friends. No thanks.'
"Thanks, Luna," she said, "but I was planning on finding my roommates, and…"
Luna just nodded calmly and blinked her too-wide eyes as Ginny trailed off.
"Enjoy," she said, walking back in and closing the door behind her.
Ginny stood there for a moment before walking on again, sidestepping a giggling group of first years.
"Ginny!"
She turned at the muffled sound of her name, and a compartment door swung open.
"Ginny, dear," Priscilla cried, giving her a hug and a peck on the cheek, "do come in!"
She rolled her eyes, following her roommate into the room.
She knew before even entering that if Priscilla was there, then Jasmine certainly was as well, and probably Evelyn too.
She was right, although it hadn't taken much to figure it out. Her roommates, particularly Jasmine and Priscilla, seemed incapable of doing anything without each other's company, and Evelyn had neatly fallen in with them. Jasmine and Priscilla Woodworth had known each other since well before Hogwarts, of course. They were cousins, and from what they'd told Ginny and Evelyn, their houses were within a kilometre of one another, and they'd practically grown up together.
She exchanged greetings with them all, before shoving her trunk into the overhead baggage bin and taking a seat.
"We were ever so excited to see the article about your family's trip," Jasmine said, gesturing to Priscilla, "it was your first time out of the country, wasn't it?"
"Actually, I went to Egypt two years ago also," she said, "it was just me and my parents then, though."
"Well," Jasmine said, "we were just telling Evelyn about our vacation. Our families took a trip together to the United States. Oh, it was so lovely."
"We went to Switzerland," Evelyn said, "did some skiing, of course, and visited some of father's friends, and we went to a marvellous party at the Swiss Minister's house."
As the other girls oohed and aahed, Ginny leaned back in her chair, somehow managing to keep a scowl off of her face.
They weren't bad girls, she had to admit. They weren't mean, or cruel, or unfriendly.
They just weren't the type of people she wanted to spend time with.
Jasmine and Priscilla were worse than Evelyn, by far. They were prissy, spoiled, rich bints, who, as far as Ginny could tell, had no greater ambition in life than doing exactly what their mothers had, which seemed to be simply marrying a wealthy, politically connected man and spending the rest of their time going to dinner parties and charity events.
They weren't interested in Quidditch, didn't like playing gobstones or exploding snap or any of the games her brothers had taught her.
But they weren't mean girls, at least, not intentionally.
Still, Ginny sometimes thought that the pitying way they would talk to her about money was far worse than if they'd been insulting and cruel.
She hadn't been surprised when the summer passed with no owls from any of them. She'd been a little bit hurt that Evelyn hadn't sent a letter, but hadn't expected one from Priscilla or Jasmine.
They were roommates and yearmates, and that was the extent of their relationship.
At the beginning of the year, she'd thought that she and Evelyn might make good friends. She'd been a bit wary of the McLaggen girl, after hearing Fred and George complaining about her brother, but Evelyn hadn't seemed so self-obsessed.
She'd found conversation with Evelyn to be far easier than with the other two. Even though Evelyn's family was also apparently wealthy, she didn't talk like she was a character from one of those romance novels Ginny's mother liked to read.
But that had been at the beginning of the year, before Ginny was spending almost all of her free time with Tom.
Once Tom became all that she needed, Ginny stopped hanging out with Evelyn, only talking to her when they happened to be together.
Evelyn had started spending more and more time with Priscilla and Jasmine, until she even adopted some of their mannerisms.
And it seemed like Ginny had lost what could have been a great friendship.
She listened with half an ear as they recounted their holidays, nodding and making small, one or two word comments when it seemed appropriate.
Mostly, she let her mind wander as they spoke until the conversation turned to the events of the previous year.
The sweets trolley had already passed by then, and Priscilla sat primly, her back ramrod straight, a small napkin held under the pumpkin pastry in her hand.
"Father was very surprised that the Prophet didn't report on all the attacks," She said, "he thinks that the Board of Governors must have kept it hushed up."
"I'm sure they did," Evelyn said, "It doesn't look too good for the school, does it? Even though it's all over now."
"I hope it's all over," Jasmine said, "they didn't even tell us who exactly what was behind it all."
She raised a hand to her lips, turning to Ginny.
"I'm so sorry," Jasmine said, "we must seem so insensitive, talking about that dreadful experience."
"It's fine," Ginny said brusquely, "Can't expect everyone to pretend nothing happened, can I?"
'Shut up about it, all right? Just shut up! You don't know anything, just stop talking!'
"What did actually happen?" Priscilla asked, "No one explained what had happened to you, and all the stories going around seemed rather far-fetched."
"Yeah, Ginny," Evelyn said, "what really happened? If you don't mind talking about it, that is."
'It'll be good to tell them, everyone says you need to talk about it-'
'What, so they can run to McGonagall and tell her? So they can keep giving my parents reports? McGonagall probably asked them to ask me, they don't really care, they just want a juicy story!'
'They're your friends, of course-'
'They're not my friends. They're not, and they don't even pretend to be.'
"I'd rather not talk about that,' she said, looking down at the floor and fighting the urge to bite at her fingernails.
"Of course, dear," Priscilla said.
'We're the same damn age! Stop talking to me like I'm a bloody child!'
'That's just how she is, she can't help it.'
'I wish I'd have asked Tom to set the basilisk on her, show her what it's like to be weak and scared!'
As the thought crossed her mind, a surge of hot nausea flashed through and her left arm began to rise to scratch at her right.
She lifted it further, making as if she had been adjusting her hair.
'I can't do this,' she thought desperately, 'I'm not gonna manage another year of this, why did Malfoy have to give me that diary? Why?'
"Just going to the loo," she said, standing up, "be back in a bit."
Evelyn nodded to her as she walked out the door, the conversation already starting up again.
The bathrooms were all the way in the back of the train. She took the stall furthest away from the nearest occupied one, and sat on the closed toilet seat, staring at the door.
'If I had Tom, I'd be able to do this, but I don't have him, I can't have him, Harry Potter killed him, I can't do this, I-'
'If Harry hadn't killed him, I'd be dead! Tom would have walked away and never thought about me again, and I'd be dead!'
'I agreed! After everything Tom did-'
'He only did all of that so that I would agree! He wasn't really interested, he didn't really care, he just needed me! I can do this, it's just the remnants of the enchantments making me think about him-'
'He could have taken me by force! He didn't! He-'
'He lied. He lied about everything. He made me hurt people, and he didn't-'
She jammed her hand into her mouth as the tears filled her eyes, let her skin stifle the sounds of her sobs.
'I think Dumbledore was wrong. The enchantments aren't all gone. I should be able to stop thinking about him, I should be able to talk about it, but I'm too weak, I'm too weak without him, and-'
'Then I should just tell Dumbledore. Damnit, I need help-'
'I can't. I can't, I can't tell him, I can't tell him-'
'Why not?'
She couldn't articulate it, even to herself. For some reason, the idea of simply going to Headmaster Dumbledore and saying that she still thought about Tom all of the time terrified her, making her belly tremble with dread.
She hadn't been thinking about Tom as much as when she had the diary, true. Then, barely ten minutes would pass before she felt the bone-deep need to write in it, to see his messages to her appear and to feel the surge of warmth he gave her.
Even when she hadn't been thinking about him, she still had felt that urge in the back of her mind, like a compulsive itch that she simply couldn't scratch without his help.
Since Harry had destroyed the diary, however, when she wasn't thinking about him, the need wasn't there.
But as soon as she remembered what she was missing, as soon as she realized what she had lost, the urge was there just as strongly as when she'd had the diary.
The worst was when she forgot what had happened, when she found herself thinking about telling Tom something, or when she absentmindedly reached for a book she no longer had.
Then it felt just as horrifically painful as when she'd first woken up in the Chamber of Secrets.
She heard someone flush the toilet, and she added her other hand to the one blocking her mouth.
The tears felt warm against her face, her body shaking with silent weeping.
'I can't do this, I can't do this, I need him, I need him, I need to talk to him.'
She sat there for close to a quarter of an hour before she felt the throe pass.
Before leaving the bathroom, she washed her face, making sure she didn't look as though she'd been crying.
'I don't think I could handle Jasmine if she saw me like that, she'd make me lose it for sure.'
As she walked back into the hallway, the train began to slow.
She glanced at her watch, her brow furrowing.
They certainly couldn't be there yet, not unless they finished the journey more than two hours shorter than expected.
Nevertheless, the train carried on slowing down, coming to a stop with a mighty lurch that almost threw her off her feet.
And all the lights went out, sudden, total darkness descending on the Hogwarts Express.
She didn't think about drawing her wand and casting a light spell. Panic clouded her mind, adrenaline coursing through her veins and sending her rushing straight to the nearest compartment.
The door opened the instant before she arrived and she flew through, tripping on someone as she entered and landing on the floor with a sharp jolt through her elbow.
"OW!"
"Who's that?"
"It's-its Ginny," she said, gripping someone's hand in the darkness and pulling herself to her feet, "who's-"
"Ginny?"
"Ron?"
"And me," Hermione said, "And Harry and Neville. Why're we stopping?"
"I don't know," she said as she inched toward where Ron's voice had sounded from, anxiety still twisting her innards like snakes, "I was just in the bathroom and the lights went out,"
"I'm here," Harry said, "sit over-"
"Quiet!"
Her head shot around at the hoarse, adult voice. Before she even managed to vocalize a question, light shone from the corner of the compartment.
A man appeared, his face lit up by the ghostly flames he seemed to be holding in his hands. He looked old, his face lined and wearied, his robes tattered and worn.
"I'm going to go see what's happening," he said as he rose, "you all stay here."
The glass door slid open before he even reached it.
A blast of midwinter air shot into the compartment and Ginny could have sworn she heard the crackle of ice spreading on the windows.
Something stood in the doorway. A towering, dark cloak, the top of it far above the lintel. It extended one of the sleeves of its robe, and a rotten, corpselike hand came forth.
And Ginny's mind was flooded with memories of the previous year.
'Her head was bent over the desk, her hand already tired from all of the writing. 'At least he just wants me to write the same thing for each one,' she thought, ignoring Lockhart's speech as he paced behind her, 'otherwise it'd be a nightmare!'
Her back straightened in a flash as she felt the hand on the back of her neck.
"Don't worry," Lockhart said with a small laugh, "I was just admiring your hair. It's really quite beautiful."
But she was worried, whatever he said. The touch had been light, just a finger trailing across her nape, but it had felt wrong, somehow.
She felt his hand running through her hair and her heart began to pound, her breath caught in her throat.
"Pro-professor-" she whispered, unable to speak properly.
"Such lovely hair. Do you know, when I was your age, I looked quite a mess?"
He strode into view, smiling widely at her.
His smile did not ease her nerves. It looked too shark-like, his teeth too bright.
'I need to get out of here,' she thought desperately, 'this isn't right.'
"Relax, Miss Weasley," Lockhart said, taking a step toward her, "I don't bite."
She pulled back slightly as he moved closer, her hands beginning to shake.
She heard the man saying something to the creature, saw him gesturing around the compartment with his handful of light. Dimly, she was aware of Neville crying, of her body trembling.
She couldn't tear her thoughts away from her memory.
'Lockhart put a hand on her shoulder, kneeling down slightly. "You'd think I was some sort of monster, from the way you're reacting," he said, "I'm sorry for frightening you. Why, your heart must be doing a hundred beats a minute."
His hand shot to the centre of her chest, and she sat there, paralyzed with an enormous, confused fear.
'Help me," she thought, 'Tom, Tom, please, please help me, please.'
"I'm dreadfully sorry," he repeated, "I would never do anything to hurt such a pretty girl like you."
His hand moved away, but as it moved, she felt it squeezing her left breast, just for a fraction of an instant.
His smiling face blurred before her eyes as the tears began to form.
"Professor," she said, "wh-what-"
"Shh," he whispered, a finger pressing up against her mouth, "It's all right."
"I think I need to go," she said, standing up, "I-"
"Petrificus Totalus!"
She closed her eyes, trying to force the memory to vanish, wildly casting her mind around.
She heard the man shouting something, something about Sirius Black.
'She fell back onto the floor of Lockhart's office, the grinning photographs seeming to mock her.
'TOM, HELP ME! PLEASE, TOM! PLEASE!'
Lockhart appeared in her vision, smiling down at her as he knelt beside her.
"Such a pretty girl," he whispered, his tongue shimmering out and sliding across his lips.
He put his hands on her chest, gripping handfuls of her robes.'
The man shot something blindingly bright from his wand.
Immediately, the room grew warm again, the terrible creature gliding away.
The memory still played on in her head.
'And then she felt it. The blissful, incredible feeling of Tom's presence in her head.
'Let me,' he snarled in her thoughts, and she didn't have to debate it.
'Yes,' she thought.
As Lockhart began to pull her robes open, Tom took control.
The body-bind vanished, Tom's thought of 'Finite Incantatem,' ringing through her mind with incredible strength.
Tom shot her hand out, drawing her wand and slashing it through the air far faster than she'd ever have been capable of.
Lockhart was thrown back, crashing into the wall and sending some of his photographs to the floor along with his wand.
She watched through her eyes as Tom made her body stand, flicking her wand at the door and portraits.
The door was lit up with a bluish penumbra for a second, and all the portraits and photographs went absolutely still."
She heard the commotion in the compartment as the lights came back on, heard Ron and Hermione shouting something about Harry.
She ignored them, focusing on the memory.
The first part of it had been more than terrible, but it ended on a high note. She was suddenly grateful for the monster that has allowed her to relive it.
"Lockhart raised his hands in clear surrender, his face pale and scared.
"You don't need to tell anyone," he said, "I can-I can give you the best grades of your year, I can pay you, I-"
Tom flicked her wand, and Lockhart smashed back into the wall.
Tom stepped closer to Lockhart's stirring form. Her leg kicked out, hitting the prone fool in the ribs and making him turn onto his back.
'My magical abilities are limited while I am controlling your body,' Tom thought to her, 'if I could, I would make him feel such pain as he would never forget. But to do so would greatly endanger me. The choice is yours, Ginny.'
'Don't put yourself at risk,' she thought back immediately, 'Don't!'
'As you wish.'
Her body knelt by Lockhart's side, Tom stretching out her hand and gripping the man's throat tightly enough that her nails drew beads of blood.
The thick vein in Lockhart's neck thundered, barely an inch away from her fingers.
'I could tear his throat out,' Tom thought, 'but we wouldn't be able to cover up his death. Suspicion would fall on you.'
'Don't,' she thought, 'just-just make sure he won't try anything like that again.'
"Listen to me," Tom said, her voice coming out harder and colder than it ever had before, "you worthless embarrassment of a wizard. If you ever raise your wand to me again, I will castrate you and choke you with your own overinflated genitalia. Do you understand?"
Lockhart coughed, trying to answer as his face began to go blue.
Tom released his hold and stood up.
"Do you understand?" He repeated.
"Y-yes," Lockhart spluttered, his voice gravelly and harsh, "I won't-"
"See that you don't. Or I will make you beg for death."
With a final kick to Lockhart's ribs, Tom strode out of the office."
"Ginny? Are you ok?"
She opened her eyes, the consoling remembered feeling of Tom's presence warming her.
Ron was standing there, looking pale and frightened.
"Yeah," she said, the trembling in her hands beginning to slow, "I'm all right."
And for once she thought she might actually be telling the truth.