It had been 2 years since Ginny had been turned upside down, and by now she felt that it was the right way up. She was carrying on her thirteen year old shoulders the deep-set emotions of a thirty year old woman. She had changed. She rarely brought her nose out of her books for fear of herself, and her demeanour had lost all cheerfulness, as if a dementor had been sucking on her soul. But she didn't feel any worse off for it. She had become a quiet girl, a lonely girl, a girl that piqued the curiosity of most – especially her family. No one quite understood Ginny, not anymore, and everyone was so caught up in their own lives that they couldn't be bothered to try. And Ginny was perfectly happy for it to be that way. She had a monster locked inside her, locked deep away, and she didn't want anyone to find it. She couldn't afford to let anything slip, and if no one talked to her then the risk was minimal. People learned to accept her as being odd and quiet, and some even forgot that she had ever been any different. She had passed her exams with flying colours – all but potions had received perfect marks – and the holidays were coming. She had asked Professor McGonagall for her booklist early. McGonagall, somewhat flabbergasted, complied, so now Ginny had her summer reading list. She would write up notes, especially for some of the more difficult chapters she would surely have to study in her fourth year. She would be prepared for next year, and as soon as the Hogwarts Express left, she was already wishing to be back at Hogwarts, back to the classes, back to the studying. She was desperate to be challenged, desperate to be kept occupied, desperate to be focused.
She lived and breathed magical studies. They were her life now. And as long as she worked hard enough, she would be able to drive the memories, the faces and the thoughts away. It was not easy. Each time she thought they were gone for good, or at least for a while, Harry Potter would be brought up, or she would see him, and she would be back to the beginning again. It didn't help that Ron and Harry were best friends. Each summer he would spend part of the holidays with the Weasley's, and Ginny would withdraw even more than usual, and her door would remain locked through the duration of his stay.
Again, people assumed the Ginny had a major crush on Harry, especially now that she was a teenager, and would tease her about it. But assumptions never got people anywhere and, like rumours, they were usually wrong.
At thirteen years of age Ginny looked unusually tired most of the time, the bags under her eyes a clear indication that she was either working herself too hard (which she was) or she had troubles sleeping (which she did). Her red hair was generally tied back into a ponytail so that she could write without it getting in the way. She was tall for her age, and willowy, and many girls envied her figure, though they didn't envy her. She was a recluse, the total opposite of popular, and no one ever heard her voice unless she was answering a teacher's question, or talking to a member of her family.
But things were growing worse for Ginny. She was becoming not just a nobody, but a nobody that brought down the mood of the room. She would walk in and silence would follow her entrance, and sound came back as she left. It was as though she sucked out the sound with her presence, but of course that was impossible. She was just a girl who was a nobody, who had nobody, and being the shallow people that people can be, they thought it was contagious and stayed well away. People at Hogwarts in particular.
Ginny learnt to ignore it, otherwise the alternative would have been being hurt by people's actions towards her every day. People didn't matter to her anymore. They were inconsequential, and would only be a hindrance if she wished to top her year, and top her family. People were unpredictable, giving you as much joy as they could give you pain. And Ginny preferred not to risk that. She had had enough pain to last a lifetime, and she still carried this burden on her back. Being friends with someone would remind her of what could have happened to them, and she had tried so hard to avoid these thoughts that it would be useless, pointless, and would only make matters worse instead of better.
Ginny didn't fool herself into believing that anyone could help her. Ginny didn't fool herself into thinking that anyone would try. Ginny didn't fool herself into acting as though she was anything other than a nobody.
Ginny was Ginny, and growing ever more so by the day.
But what no one knew was that the Ginny she was growing into was not the Ginny that anyone wanted her to be. A Ginny that not even she could have wanted to be.