The common room stood vacant when Ginny slipped through the portrait. Ginny walked to the foot of the boy's stairs and stood for a few moments looking up. Gingerly, she placed her foot on the first stair testing the solidity of the step. Memories of Percy's belly flop as he slid down the girl's stairs echoed through her mind. After the step remained solid she placed her second foot on the steps. A fully erect staircase lay in front of her. Sprinting the remaining steps two at a time she rushed to the second door and twisted the handled. Locked. Ginny paused against the cherry wooden paneled door to catch her breath. Her heart pounded in her ears as she leaned her head into the hard wooden door.
Questions and doubts swirled around her head. Was this the right choice? Did she even have a choice? Should she get help instead of trying to fix this all herself? Was this bigger than she was? What was she even going to do once she had Tom away from Harry?
Harry.
Kind, sweet, heroic Harry. Who would believe her anyway? Talking diaries, losing time, white rooms. No, she had to get the diary away from Harry before Tom hurts him. One life destroyed was enough.
Ginny reached up to her plait and pulled a pin out of her hair. She picked the lock with ease and slid into the room. The odor of teenage boy; conflicting colognes and feet, wafted to her nose. The smell simultaneously turned her stomach and reminded her of home. It was easy to verify she was in the right place. Ron's bring orange Chudley Cannons poster took up half of the wall.
If that was Ron's bed then, walking across the room she found a simple potted plant on a nightstand, this had to be Neville's. Looking across she saw a maroon pennant hanging from another bedpost. Golden words embossed "West Ham" sat above a round golden ball too big to be a snitch. It appeared to be some muggle ball-foot team. Dean's bed.
Two beds left. They looked identical. No giant sign saying "'boy who lived' sleeps here" or "Irish bloke over here" were available. Rushing over to the first bed she tore open the crimson curtains with golden fringe. Ginny threw aside blankets as she clawed through the remaining sheets and pillows. She had to find it. She had to find Tom.
Panting, out of breath, her eyes darted between the two unidentified beds. She tried to calm her nerves at the massive invasion of privacy she was about to undertake. The trunk at the foot of the first bed drew her closer. Opening it Ginny tossed aside quills, socks, and school books. She examined the contents on the floor. There was no way to tell if this was Seamus's or Harry's. Socks look like socks. Quills like quills. There were no discernible signs except a sensation pulling her deeper into the trunk.
Turning her attention back to the trunk she moved several piles of heavy books and loose parchment. She found it. She found Harry's emerald green jumper with a giant H embroidered on the front. Ginny stroked the H picturing her Mum knitting it with as much love and care as the rest of the jumpers. She found Harry's trunk, but where was Tom?
The familiar burning sensation guided her deeper into the trunk's abyss. Finally, something smooth and cold burned against her hand. Tom. Grabbing the diary she ran out of the room not bothering to restore order covering her tracks.
Rushing down the steps she found the common room still blessedly empty. The afternoon spring sun shone through the turret's wall length windows. A warm ethereal glow illuminated the room as dust danced through the sunbeams. Ginny walked past the empty armchairs and up the girl's steps to her dorm. She had to destroy the diary but how?
Ginny desperately needed to escape. Her heart beat slower than normal. An odd tingling sensation permeated from her chest to her fingers. If only time could speed up and the school year could be over. She could be back home with Mum safe at the burrow. She wouldn't be sitting here with a cursed diary needing destroying. Her eyes twitched as tears threatened to escape. Brushing the back of her hand against her eyes she pushed the moisture back as a slight sniffle escaped her nose.
"I am older than you could imagine. I am enchanted with magic stronger than you will ever possess. You cannot destroy me."
She couldn't escape, though, she couldn't go home. Time couldn't move forward. She had a job to do. She had to destroy Tom. A shiver ran through Ginny's spine entering her room. The diary's close contact burned her skin like an itching nighttime sunburn after a long summer day. Placing the diary gingerly on her bed Ginny looked around the room.
"Nothing in here can stop me."
Ginny saw Adelaide's golden embossed sewing box. She walked over and grabbed a large pair of magically sharpened muggle sewing scissors. The silver blade reflected the spring sunlight blinding her. Nothing magical may be able to stop him, but maybe something muggle could. Ginny walked back to Tom and in a steady swift motion stabbed into the center of the diary.
The scissor point bounced off Tom's unharmed cover and plunged straight into her abdomen. Pain radiated through her stomach. Blood ran down her middle oozing from the incision. Ginny's gasped in painful sharp intake of air. The scissors, covered in warm crimson blood, fell from her hands. She opened her trunk and grabbed a pair of clean socks applying pressure on the wound.
The blood stopped, Ginny had a chance to think. She had seen and heard her Mum perform the spell thousand times before. Which spell? Ginny grabbed her wand between gasps of contracting pain and tried casting, "episkey." Blood stopped flowing.
"Episkey," the skin slowly re-closed. Ginny stood still, panting for several breaths, before gingerly pulling back the sock. The dried blood crunched beneath the sudden movement. Everything appeared fine.
"Scorgify," Ginny waved her wand back over the scissors before replacing them in Adelaide's basket. Ginny sat on her bed despondent next to Tom.
"I told you it was hopeless."
Pressure and buzzing surrounded her. No. Not this easy. Closing her eyes she pictured Harry's green jumper her Mum made. The loving look in her Mum's eyes as she lazily knitted by the fire. Her Mum's hair illuminated by the firelight. The smell of the burrow, infused with love, seeping into the wool. Smells of charred wood, baking bread, and home. The pressure and buzzing stopped.
Ginny sat back up opening her eyes to the sunlit room. An owl hooted in the distance. The wind whistled against the roof tiles. Her blood pounded in her ears. It can't be hopeless. She can figure this out on her own. No one else had to get hurt.
Picking up her crusty bloody socks she put them on her hands to form a barrier between herself and Tom. She grabbed the diary and placed Tom back in her trunk re-wrapped in her old tattered robes. A slight smell of dried dung released from the fabric. She tied him tight with an old tattered yellow ribbon before stuffing him to the bottom of her trunk.
Exhaustion overtook Ginny as she fell into her blankets and pillows closing her eyes. Sleep did not come as a myriad of conflicting emotions spiraled around her like a dark funnel. Fatigue descended from her injury, the invasion, the months of worry and failed plans. Relief lifted her knowing Tom was away from Harry. Apprehension flooded her realizing that while Harry was safe, she was at risk again. Fear. The fear consumed her. Will she hurt someone again? Will she be able to keep others safe and Tom under control?
Ginny sat up and closed her curtains to shroud herself from the rest of the world. Lying down staring at the ceiling of her cloth mausoleum she stroked the healed skin on her abdomen. Even if she couldn't stop Tom today, at least she saved Harry. Maybe for today, that could be enough?
Over the next few days, Ginny stopped sleeping. A foreboding sense of her own demise overtook her with a premonition that she will not survive to the end of her first year. At first, this terrified her. The idea of death and never seeing her family again. One night in a fit of terror she lit a candle to write letters to her family. She wrote feeble words that never sounded right, as she tried to explain her action and beg for their forgiveness.
But as the weight of Tom's presence continued to push on her, something changed. A calmness and acceptance overcame her. By the light of dawn on Wednesday morning, she finished her letters home. Then she safely packed them at the bottom of her trunk tied in her best hair ribbon. She told her family she loved them and tried to infuse the parchment with the remaining love swirling inside her.
Then she waited. She had no idea what was coming or why she had these feelings of dread. During the day, her conviction that she would never see the summer met with quiet acceptance. Nights expanded by terror-filled dreams woke Ginny up to silent screaming fits drenching her in cold sweat. The charms she cast muffled her caterwauls but her pacing and panting woke her roommates.
"There is something wrong with you." Beryl accused Ginny Thursday evening as they prepared for bed. Xenia and Adelaide sat in awkward silence looking at one another in discomfort. "You haven't slept all week while keeping us all awake with you. You look horrible."
"Thanks. Glad to know I am such a bother," Ginny retorted unable to mask the venom forming on her tongue. She didn't care about being a good dormmate. At bothering others with her midnight circles around the room. Didn't they see? Didn't they see how hard she worked to keep Tom at bay? To keep them safe? Angry tears threatened to escape, but Ginny pushed them down unwilling to show weakness. "I am not really sure what you want me to do with this fun fact."
"Get some help. Go to your brother, go to McGongall, go to Madam Pomphrey, go home. I don't care at this point. You are a surly, sullen, horrible roommate. Go do something or else we will intervene for you." Beryl's eyes narrowed as she stared into Ginny's face. " You have until the Hufflepuff match tomorrow. Figure it out."
Ginny glowered back at Beryl's confrontational stare unwavering and unmoving. "Thanks. Glad to know we are all clear about where I stand. And I assume you two are in agreement?"
Xenia and Adelaide looked at their feet. Xenia found her voice first and murmured, "We are worried about you. We want you to be happy."
Ginny sighed and looked to the ceiling. There was a crack in the plaster that formed a trapezoid connecting Xenia and Adelaide's beds. Counting to ten she tried to keep her anger in check. Whose business was it if she stayed awake at night. Why did they care? She was managing as best she could.
"They don't care. Don't you realize, they want you gone. You are worthless."
Heat spread across Ginny's face. She felt the buzzing and pressure surrounding her. She had to calm down. She had to escape. Wordlessly, she walked to her bed and almost yanked the curtains off the rod as she jerked them shut.
Lying in her bed she only had a few options. Tell the professors, tell Madam Pomphrey or tell her brothers.
"Tell whoever you like. They won't believe you. They will only see a blank diary and hear a tale of a crazy girl."
Percy would believe her. He had to believe her. Tomorrow. She would find Percy tomorrow and start to unravel this mess. He could go with her to Professor McGongall. He will protect her from being sent away. At least she hoped he would.
Ginny didn't bother trying to fall asleep that night. If she didn't sleep she wouldn't dream. Anxiety over confessing shook through her body. It radiated off every fiber of her being. She felt the sheets constrict around her and become cold with sweat. Her feet spun in unconscious circles as she tried to contain the urge to pace around the room. She had to stay silent tonight. She had to stay in control.
She had to be the one to start the conversation with Percy. She would find Percy and confess everything. She needed him to believe that she wasn't crazy. If anyone else got to him first her credibility would vanish. Tomorrow. Tomorrow. Tomorrow. First thing in the morning she would find him. She would find him and confess.
"You aren't brave enough Ginevra. You aren't strong enough."
Dawn rose. The morning light filtered in through the slits of her curtains. Such a familiar scene to start an extraordinary day. Today she would confess. Swallowing hard to move her saliva past her constricting throat, she sat curling her body into a ball. Laying her weary head on her knees she sighed into the darkness.
This morning. She would tell him after breakfast. The sounds of her roommates waking flooded the room. No one pulled back her curtains or checked on her. Laughter between the three girls reverberated around Ginny. How easy everything was for them. Their conversation drifted between talk of clothes, boys, and music. Inside jokes that made no sense to Ginny caused the girls to giggle freely and effortlessly.
What would this year had been like if she never wrote in Tom? Would she out there right now, laughing along with her roommates? Would Mira still be around to help ease Beryl's hard edge? Would she have friends?
"No, you would still be a lonely little outsider. These girls have nothing in common with you. You were always tainted and different. Why do you think I chose you?"
Tom was right. She was different. The girls left the room in a gaggling cluster. Their happiness suctioned away like air in a vacuum. There was nothing left for Ginny here. No one cared if she was expelled. She pushed everyone away this year. Every chance she had to make a friend. She became so fixated on getting back the diary, she barely spoke to Luna after the Valentine's disaster. Ginny could picture the sadness in her eyes at being ignored for months on end. Her brother's only noticed what a burden she was. They only intervened with her when they thought something was wrong or needed fixing. Once they thought they resolved the surface problem they were gone.
"They will be relieved when you are gone."
Dressing in slow silence Ginny didn't care she missed breakfast. Her stomach was too twisted with anxiety and guilt to be hungry. Going to her trunk she picked up the bundle that held Tom. Placing the bundle on her bed she unwrapped him with caution and care. How could such a small book spawn so much pain? Her skin prickled at the memory of liking Tom touching her hand. Her throat burned as a sensation of being dirty washed over her.
Percy would be at his office by now. She could go find him. Images of him recoiling away from her as if she was toxic filled her head. Ginny felt lightheaded as the prickling sensation spread to the back of her neck and across her face. Despite the cold chill in the air, her skin lit on fire with heat. She had to end this. She had to get help. Pushing the embarrassment and shame down as she forced her body forward. One way or another, Tom was ending today.