Chapter 2: The Boy in the Book

The first time the diary wrote to her, Ginny was mesmerized. She watched transfixed as the elegant script began to appear on the page. She had been beginning her first entry about Harry Potter, confiding her fear that the boy who had defeated the most feared wizard of all time would never notice her. When she paused to re-ink her quill she was stunned to see flawless cursive letters appearing almost hesitantly across the page. They formed a single word, "Ginerva". The word hung there on the empty page, and to Ginny it was as though the world had stilled. She could not look away from the page, could not think, could not breath as she stared at her name written in the beautiful hand. It was not until the ink began to fade that the diary began to write again.

"I don't mean to disturb your writing, but I cannot allow you to continue in good conscious without first revealing my presence to you," The elegant cursive letters formed gracefully, but with a slow unsteady rhythm, as though the author were nervous and unsure of what to say.

The world swung back into motion and Ginny released the breath she had been holding. She continued to stare at the page, her brain attempting to make sense of her diary writing back to her. Her parents had warned her of dangerous magical objects that could think for themselves, but this diary had been a gift and she'd been writing in it for a week with nothing bad happening. Surely if it were a dark object it would have revealed itself before now. Surely nothing dark would address her so politely and shyly. In almost reminded her of her first meeting with Neville Longbottom, and nothing evil could remind her of Neville.

Having made her decision Ginny allowed her curiosity to take over, lifted her quill, and began to write.

"I don't understand. Who or what are you?"

Looking down at her words written beneath the fading script of the diary she felt keenly aware of just how childish her untidy scrawl was. For a moment there was a pulse of emotion from the little book. A flash of victory as she played into it's trap.

The words and phrasing had been chosen with perfect care to draw her in. Their similarity to the Longbottom boy's mannerisms was no accident. Ginerva had been so excited at making a friend that after meeting him she'd run straight to her dormitory to write about it in her diary. She told it all about how she'd been so nervous to meet one of her brothers friends, thinking that he wouldn't like her because she was a first year. She wrote about how Neville had been sweet and she felt comfortable talking to him after his bashful manner of speech showed her he was just as nervous as she was. Unwittingly she'd given the diary all the information it needed to make itself appear trustworthy.

"My apologies. I've been trapped here for so long, and never had to explain myself before. I seem to have forgotten my manners." The words spilled across the page in the same elegant hand and then paused. "I'm sure you've noticed the name on the cover of this book."

When the writing paused again Ginny realized that the book was waiting for her to reply.

"It says, 'Tom Riddle'."

"Yes."

The diary's response hung there for a moment and Ginny had the uncomfortable feeling that it was somehow displeased with her response, but just as soon as the feeling came it was gone as more words appeared.

"You see my dear, I am Tom Riddle, and the book you are writing in used to be my diary."

Ginny stared at the words on the page, inexplicably pleased at being addressed as "my dear", and wondering if she was having a very strange dream. She was tempted to pinch her arm just to make sure, but reminded herself that she was now at Hogwarts, a place where teachers arrived in their classrooms disguised as cats. Having a conversation with her diary's former owner was not that strange.

"If this used to be your diary, how are you still writing in it?" Ginny asked.

"I used to be a student at Hogwarts. I kept a diary to document my time at school and would often carry it with me incase I should wish to jot something down. During my fifth year something happened. I'm not entirely sure what. It was a perfectly normal day. I was just greeting an old friend when we were interrupted and suddenly everything was just… gone. I've been trapped in this diary without another soul to speak to for nearly fifty years. I couldn't even mark the passage of time until you came across my diary and wrote the date at the top of your first entry."

"That's horrible! You've been trapped, alone for 50 years… I'm so sorry."

"You have no idea what your sympathy means to me Ginerva," Tom had to take great care to conceal the sarcasm in his words, "but it wasn't so bad. When my dairy lay undisturbed I did as well, but periodically I would regain full consciousness and… you couldn't imagine the complete nothingness of my existence… Then you came along, and suddenly I was alive again"

Ginny couldn't help but feel a bit bashful at the praise from the charming boy in her diary. A feeling that grew to red-faced embarrassment when she realized what his presence in the diary meant.

"You don't mean you've been here all this time, do you?" She wrote back almost panicking.

"I'm afraid there's nowhere else I could have gone." Tom replied.

"So you've been reading my diary all this time?" Ginny accused.

"Technically I've been reading my diary all this time," The elegant script retorted, "But I never meant to invade your privacy. When you first wrote in my pages it woke me, but it had been so long since I'd had contact with the outside world that by the time I had oriented myself you were gone. The next time you wrote to me I tried to respond, to tell you of my presence, but I did not know how. After I was once again unsuccessful at contacting you doubts began to creep in. I was afraid that if I was able to contact you…" Tom's writing trailed off.

"What were you afraid of?" Ginny encouraged.

"I was afraid you'd get rid of me." The words appeared forlorn somehow, and Ginny was sure she could feel the sadness emanating from the small book. "A magical talking diary… Why would anyone want that?"

Ginny wasn't sure what to say to that. She didn't want him to feel unwanted, but wasn't sure how to say that. Her pen hovered over the page, but before she could find the words to tell him, he began to write again, and as he wrote the diary shifted back to a lighter more bashful mood once it was sure she had fallen for it's pity plea.

"After watching more of your entries I was convinced that such a kind and intelligent young woman would understand my plight, but by then it was too late. I'd been sitting by silent as your wrote on my pages. I felt as though I'd been eavesdropping, and I was too ashamed to reveal myself."

"So what made you reveal yourself now?"

"Before today your writings… they were private, but they weren't secret. Not like what you were about to tell me. A secret of that magnitude… I could not steal it."

"Thank you…What I was going to say, it's special. I… You're very nice to stop me."

Looking over her words she blushed at how childish they sounded, but it was the best she could do to express her gratitude.

"Well I'm glad you think so." The diary took on a smug, playful air, "But I must confess, my motives weren't entirely altruistic."

Seeing the unfamiliar word Ginny considered asking him what it meant, before choosing to rush over to her trunk to pull out her battered dictionary. She didn't want him to think of her as an ignorant first year. With her new vocabulary word in hand Ginny was left puzzled as to what he could mean, but his teasing tone was infectious and she decided to play along.

"Really? And what did you expect to get out of it?"

Looking at the words she felt bold and a little flirtatious. She anxiously awaited his reply, rereading her words to make sure she hadn't said something stupid.

"Now that would be telling," was the diary's playful reply.

Encouraged by this response Ginny continued,

"Please!"

"Please what, my dear?"

"Please tell me the other reason you revealed yourself to me?" She tried.

She got the distinct impression that the diary was chuckling at her.

"While I appreciate the clarification, I was actually implying that you should use my name."

"You're name?" Ginny wrote dumbly.

"Yes. My sweet Ginerva, I was hoping to finally see you address me by name."

For a moment she was stunned into complete stillness. Surprised by his use of endearments, and the request that somehow seamed strikingly intimate.

"Please Tom, will you tell me?" She finally wrote.

There it was again, the feeling of satisfaction emanating from the pages.

"I revealed myself to you not only because I didn't want to steal your secrets, but because I wanted you to give them to me willingly."

"You mean like a friend?" Ginny wrote hesitantly, amazed that such an interesting older boy… well sort of boy would be interested in her life, but as the seconds passed while she waited for his reply she began to doubt her assessment.

"I didn't mean to… I mean… I wasn't trying to say we're friends or anything… just that sharing secrets is sort of a friends thing to do… we don't have to be friends to talk if you don't want to be… I meant sharing secrets like friends not as friends…"

Before Ginny could continue her uncoordinated attempt at back peddling Tom interrupted her by writing in the space following her words.

"Ginerva it's alright. I didn't mean to take so long to reply but it's been a very long time since I've had a friend, and I was trying to figure out the best way to ask to be yours." He wrote with none of his earlier hesitation. "Of course if you'd prefer we don't have to be friends just yet. We could be… acquaintances?"

"No! That's not… we can be friends!" Ginny responded excitedly, accidentally dripping ink on herself in her hast to renew her quill's supply. "I'd really like to be your friend. I just wanted to make sure that that's what you wanted to."

"I'd like nothing more" The charming boy replied, "But I have one condition…"

Ginny held her breath as she waited to see what he wrote.

"Ask me directly"

She exhaled a nervous giggle, relieved that he wanted something so simple. She was fairly certain she knew what he meant, but hesitated a moment before writing it, afraid she'd misunderstood his request.

"Will you please be my friend, Tom?"

"My sweet Ginerva, It would be my pleasure."