Author's Note: Sorry for the wait! I wrote the first part (before the scene jump) and then just got stuck. This chapter is fairly short because of my being stuck. I 'told' events instead of 'showing' them to get past the writers block, which is something I told myself I would never do again. But I did it anyway, so the chapter is pretty short. Hopefully that means there'll be less of a wait for the next chapter.

Just wanted to say thank you to my reviewers – springawakening1894, GoldenTresses91, Lacarnum Inflamarae, purpleumbrella and, of course, the amazing Laurenmlbc! You guys are all incredible, I can't say how much your reviews mean to me! They're what stopped me from quitting when I kept sitting here thinking 'I have no idea what to write next!'. I hope you all stick around after this chapter.

Disclaimers: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter, and I got the information on divers from the RSPB.

Well…enjoy!

A small family of large water birds, with three species regularly seen in the UK (two of which breed) plus one rare vagrant from northern Asia (the white-billed diver). There is another similar species (the Pacific loon) in North America.

All have long, slender bodies, moderately long necks and dagger-shaped bills, quite long but narrow wings and small legs (with long, lobed toes) set far back on the body.

They are expert swimmers and divers but unable to stand or walk on land. All are migratory, breeding on freshwater lakes and pools but moving to the sea coast in winter.

So it was true. Divers couldn't walk on land. But then how was it that Shikoba was able to follow her out from under the tree? And why was it the voice of Tom Riddle wanted her to know that her bird was so unusual? No, not the voice of Tom Riddle…her illusion of him.

"No, it's not an illusion," she whispered to herself as she placed the library book back onto the shelf. It couldn't be an illusion, because she hadn't known that divers couldn't walk on land. How could her mind have spoken to her of knowledge it didn't have?

But that only meant…

Ginny shivered. She hadn't been able to find much on the subject of voices, other then things about schizophrenia and such. Nothing magical. Nothing about a dead wizard invading someone's mind. Nothing about a ghost haunting a person's body. But now she knew it had to be something like that. The voice really was Tom Riddle.

So that was why he'd wanted her to know why Shikoba was strange. So she would know that she wasn't delusional, that it really was him who told her to leave Harry or that she was the Lady of Shalott.

Speaking of which, she'd read through a book about the poem, and now she was even more confused. One of the themes of the poem – at least as far as Ginny understood it – was that in order to really live, you have to be able to die. That wasn't an idea that Lord Voldemort seemed to be particularly fond of.

But Lord Voldemort is dead.

"So are you," she responded.

That was it, Ginny decided. She had to tell somebody. Even if they thought she was crazy, they'd look into what was happening to her. Maybe someone could discover something…

"Hey, Ginny," Hermione approached her, a pile of books in her arms. "I'm ready to check out. Are you?"

Tell her, she told herself. Just open your mouth and say it…'I hear Tom Riddle in my head'…

"Yes," Ginny said, picking up the two books she'd placed at her feet (one on 'real and fictional hauntings', and the other a book a quotes she wasn't even sure why she'd picked up). "I'm ready."

She couldn't do it. She couldn't tell anyone what she was hearing. They'd lock her up forever.

Oh, how much she wanted to cry.

"Great," Hermione said. "What do you say we visit my house afterward to read? My parents would like to meet some of my old school friends, and we could order some food."

Ginny nodded, forcing a smile. "I'd like that."

-

Her time at Hermione's had been fun, though not very productive. They'd ordered tons of food she'd never heard of or otherwise had never tried (shrimp coconut curry, edamame, pita bread and tzatziki and mousakka were the most interesting) and talked about their Hogwarts adventures and old friends, and how stupid boys were sometimes, and all sorts of things. Then they watched a movie (Ginny forgot the title, but it was funny and romantic and had something to do with 'computers', 'email' and books) and ate until they were stuffed full, and then had some dessert (baklava). They played Wizard Chess, talked to Hermione's parents (who were very nice) and then made brownies the Muggle way.

But as a result of all that fun, Ginny didn't have a chance to open the books she'd gotten. And she hadn't had a moment to bring up her courage and tell Hermione that she thought Tom Riddle was in her head. So she was still at Square One.

She walked into the house, one hand carrying the books, the other hand carrying something that Hermione called 'Tupperware' filled with the brownies they'd made, or what was left of them. She carefully opened the door and heard a welcoming song from Shikoba. But a moment later, she could hear loud shouting coming from the family room. Ron and Percy were at it again, and her mother was begging them to stop fighting. She glanced into the room, but then quickly looked away and set the brownies on the kitchen table. Usually she'd join in trying to get the two boys to see reason, but right now she was emotionally exhausted. She'd leave the baked goods on the table and hope that when they were done fighting and walked in the kitchen and saw them there, they'd feel guilty for arguing so loudly they couldn't tell their sister was home. Or something.

Sighing, Ginny grabbed a brownie for herself and a piece of bread for Shikoba, tucked the books under her arm and headed up the stairs, the diver flying up the stairs and walking down the hall after her. She opened her bedroom door and let the bird walk in ahead of her, and then shut and locked the door. She sighed when she saw her room empty. She'd been half hoping that Harry would be waiting for her. But of course he wasn't. He couldn't be, he was at work! He was always at work!

She took in a deep breath to calm herself, and when that didn't work, she took a large bite of the brownie. While chewing, she gave bits of the bread to Shikoba. She watched him eat happily and wondered if her family had remembered to feed him.

"Shikoba," she started, after finishing the bite of brownie. "How is it you can walk on land, when you're not supposed to be able to?" The bird looked at her curiously for a moment, then opened it's mouth for another piece of bread. Ginny laughed softly and gave him the rest. As the diver ate, she rolled off the bed and onto her feet, then when to her window and lit the wine and roses candle, as well as a blue one that smelled like wildflowers. She leaned against the windowpane, staring out at the dark landscape, then swallowed hard.

She was about to do something she'd never done before.

Tom? She sought him out for the first time. She waited a moment, nervously tangling her fingers together, but there was no answer. Look, Tom. You wanted me to know you were real and here, in my head. Now I know. Answer me.

Ginny watched the sweet-smelling smoke rise from the candles and disappear into the air of the room. She began tapping her fingers against her leg, and counting the taps. She made it to fifteen before she decided to give up. It was a stupid idea, anyway. Why should she try and contact the person who was tormenting her? Who had been messing with her mind and twisting her memories since the first time she had met him, years ago in her first year? She didn't need to talk to him, she could figure it all out on her own, and she would –

She saw a shadow flickering out of the corner of her eye. She turned her head, only to see a dark shape disappear from her repaired mirror.

Yes, my Lady?

Ginny held her breath. No, no, this was a mistake.

Ask your question, Kore.

"I'm not Kore," Ginny insisted aloud, though she had no idea what 'Kore' meant.

Ask…your question,he repeated patiently. She took in yet another deep breath – it seemed she was desperate for oxygen this evening – and then moistened her dry lips with the tip of her tongue.

"Who are you, exactly?" she asked, but even as she said the words she could hear him 'speaking' over her.

That is not the question you wanted to ask.

She swallowed and tried again. "What do you want?"

Also incorrect.

"How are you-"

Remember, Ginevra. I can hear your thoughts as clearly as you can.

Oh, to hell with it.

"Why?" she finally shouted into the mirror, her reflection showing her eyes filled with tears and her fists clenched in anger. "Why are you doing this to me? Why do you hate me so much that even after you die you won't leave me alone? Why do you continue to torture me, to invade my head and say horrible things to me, and mock me, and try to ruin things with Harry – is it to get to him? Because bothering me isn't getting to him! Haven't you done enough to me?" she took in a deep breath, but wasn't ready to stop yet. "You possessed me in my first year and – and – and broke my heart and destroyed my ability to trust for ages, and you hurt my friends, and get Fred killed! What did I do to make you hate me so much that you have to continue to haunt me after your death? Why? Why?" She wasn't shouting anymore, she was crying, collapsing to the ground and pushing her head into the hard floor and putting her hands over her head, digging her fingers into her bright red hair. She felt Shikoba approach her and settle down next to her, trying to comfort her in his own way.

There was silence in her head, and she didn't know if she was relieved or angry that he wasn't responding. It was odd – the first time she'd had a conversation with him since the diary.

Mignon McLaughlin, fifty eight, sixty two.

She stopped crying suddenly. "What?" she asked, sitting up. She looked around the room as though that would give a hint, but she had no idea who Mignon McLaughlin was, or what those numbers meant.

"What do you…mean…" her voice grew softer as her eyes locked with the books. The quote book. She stood carefully, stepping over Shikoba, and picked up the book. She flipped through it until she saw in small, bold letters at the top left corner of the page '58'. She skimmed the page for the name Mignon McLaughlin…and there it was.

The hardest-learned lesson: that people only have their kind of love to give, not our kind. – Mignon McLaughlin

Instead of letting herself try to understand that quote, she flipped forward to the next one.

Hate leaves ugly scars, love leaves beautiful ones. – Mignon McLaughlin

Well, first of all, she had to disagree with the last quote. Scars were scars, there was no difference between ones from hate and ones from love; they both ached the same. Perhaps scars from love hurt worse.

Exactly.

"No," was her reply. She couldn't think about what he was hinting, it was impossible, he was dead and evil and soulless. More then soulless, he'd intentionally cut his soul into pieces. It wasn't even possible that he was delusional enough to…to think that…he…

Lord Voldemort is dead.

She frowned, confused. What did he mean? Of course he was dead!

Ginny jumped and nearly screamed when the door opened. George stood there, holding a brownie, a small smile on his face. Those smiles were rare, and though she felt panic crushing her chest and confusion clouding her mind, she smiled back at him.

"Hey, Ginny," he said weakly. Loud noises from behind him told her that Ron and Percy were still arguing. "I just wanted to make sure you'd eaten one of these before I tried one." He nodded to the brownie crumbs on her bed.

"Why?" she asked.

"Because," he grinned. "You've spent way too much time with me." He winked, and she laughed.

"Don't worry, George…I'm not trying to turn the family into canaries."

"Right," he said. He hesitated, obviously wanting to say something else – probably about why she was on the floor, her hair tangled and her face red. But he decided against it. "Thanks for the brownies."

"You're welcome," she said, as he closed the door.

Suddenly, Ginny felt oddly serene, and exhausted. Probably thanks to her earlier breakdown. She barely managed to crawl on top of her bed covers before she fell asleep.

Artificial: I was a bit at a loss for what to name this chapter. If you have a better idea, please let me know! Thanks.