Ginny found herself back in the circular room. All was quiet. Where were the others? The stillness was haunting. How was it that she was back in this room? It didn't quite make sense; she didn't remember how she got here, but ultimately it was unimportant.
"Harry?" said Ginny uncertainly. "Ron? Hermione?"
No answer. Were they okay? Did they get out? There was only one thing she could do to find out: go through the rooms one by one and start searching for them. She hurried to the nearest door, pulled out her wand, and yanked it open. Beyond it was total, pitch-black darkness, but a few seconds passed and Ginny saw a tall figure emerge, walking slowly towards her, illuminated by seemingly nothing at all. Ginny could make out the dark black hair and handsome features; it was Tom Riddle.
"You!" Ginny yelled furiously.
"Me," said Riddle softly, smiling. "It has been too long, Ginevra."
"Not long enough!" Ginny shot back.
"We were such good friends, Ginny. Is this how you treat all your friends?"
"Only fake friends who just want to manipulate and hurt me!"
"You are a silly little girl," said Riddle with a cold laugh. "You were such an easy target; you gave me no choice. You would not be here at all if dear, wonderful Harry Potter hadn't come to save you!"
"And he will come save me again!" Ginny assured him. "He will not let you hurt me —"
"Only because he fancies himself a hero, not because he cares about you," said Riddle venomously. "He will do anything for a bit of good press and attention. 'Look at me and my scar, I survived Voldemort's curse when I was just a baby, look how special I am' —"
"Liar!" shrieked Ginny. "You don't scare me!"
She slammed the door in his face. She gripped her wand firmly, expecting him to blast the door down, but there was only silence. Ginny hurried to the next door and opened it. This time it was Ron who stepped out of the blackness. He smiled.
"Hey, little sis."
Ginny gave him a questioning look; he never addressed her like this; only Fred and George did.
"Why are you here?" she asked him.
"I'm always here," said Ron in a monotone voice. "Always in your way."
"So stop!" Ginny shouted, trying to get around him. He kept moving in front of her, blocking her path. "Stop getting in my way! There're things behind you that I need!"
"I can't," said Ron. "They are dangerous things, and I can't let you have them."
"But I need them, Ron!"
"I can't let you have them," he repeated.
"Ron!"
"I am just protecting you, Ginny."
"I don't need protection!" she fumed. "I am my own person; I don't need you worrying about me!"
"I can't help it, Ginny. I am your brother. It is merely instinct."
"My meddling, obsessive, intrusive, good-for-nothing brother!"
"I was right about Michael Corner," Ron shot back. "You didn't listen — you got your heart broken —"
"No I didn't! I never liked him! Stop talking about stuff you know nothing about!"
"Ginny —"
SLAM. A deafening silence rang out again. Ginny went to the next door. It was Mum.
"Ginevra Molly Weasley!" she shouted, her face boiling with anger. "How dare you run off to the Department of Mysteries like that! What is wrong with you? You could have been killed! You are in big trouble when you get home, young lady —"
"I only wanted to help Harry and his friends!" Ginny wailed. "We were trying to save Sirius!"
"We've tried so hard to protect you and your friends from You-Know-Who, tried to tell you how dangerous being in the Order is, but apparently it still hasn't sunk in —"
"Because you refuse to tell us anything!"
"Because we care about you! There are things we know of which you can't imagine, and we are just trying to keep you safe!"
"No you aren't! You are just a psycho control freak!"
"GINEVRA WEASLEY, HOW DARE —"
Ginny slammed the door again. She knew how the conversation ended and had no desire to repeat it. Ginny slumped against the wall, thinking. There were three doors she hadn't opened. Which one was the exit? She had to get out of here and find her friends. She had to find Harry. Jumping to her feet, she scampered to the next door and opened it, and now found herself face to face with — herself. But it was not herself as she was now; it was her eleven-year-old self, and she was carrying Tom Riddle's diary.
"Who are you?" said past-Ginny, looking up at her.
Ginny paused to take in the weirdness of the situation before answering.
"I think — I think I'm you," she whispered. "The future you."
Am I the future her? Ginny thought. Or is this girl the past me? It was hard to know. Time had no meaning here.
"You look so old," said past-Ginny.
Ginny was just marveling at how young her past self was. Did she really look like that? It was hard to believe it was only four years ago. When had her looks changed so much? She examined herself in the mirror every day and had never noticed. Then she realized it was because she looked in the mirror every day that she had never noticed. An odd feeling of existential dread washed over her.
"What are you doing here?" said Ginny nervously.
"I don't know," said past-Ginny. "I was going to ask you!"
Ginny thought, and the answer came to her at once.
"I've come to warn you."
"Warn me?" said past-Ginny curiously.
"Yes. About the diary. You need to get rid of it."
"Get rid of it?" past-Ginny repeated in a high-pitched voice. "I can't! Tom is my friend. I can't just dump him!"
"You must!" said Ginny. "Tom is not your friend."
"Yes he is! He's the only one who understands me! He understands my problems — how I don't fit in — he is my only friend —"
"No he's not! Give it to me, Ginny. Give me the diary —"
She lunged for it. Past-Ginny whipped it around to keep it out of reach, giggling.
"I ha — you have lots of friends!" said Ginny, feeling unsure about what pronouns she should be using. She had never encountered anything so strange in her life. "You'll be fine. Look at me! This is where you'll be in a few years, but you need to give me the diary! If you don't, you'll die!"
"Don't be so stupid," said past-Ginny. "Tom would never hurt me! Are you really my future self? I was hoping my future self would be much more awesome and fun than you are!"
She had a sad-puppy look on her face. Ginny went to tackle her and forcibly snatch the diary from her grasp, but she couldn't reach it. Some unknown force was holding her back.
"Please, Ginny," said past-Ginny. "How else am I supposed to become friends with Harry Potter? I need Tom's help!"
"No you don't!" said Ginny, still grasping for the diary. "I am friends with him — without Tom's help — you need to stop worrying, Ginny, everything will be okay — just give me the diary!"
"You're friends with Harry Potter?" said past-Ginny, awestruck, and Ginny took the opportunity and snatched the diary from her grasp. She flung it as hard as she could into the void, and it was swallowed by the darkness.
"I am friends with Harry Potter," said Ginny, smiling. "It was a long, painful road, but I did it. Now I am just waiting for him to fall in love with me."
Past-Ginny looked at her, examining every inch of her, as if it would give her the secret of how to be Harry's friend. Then she turned and disappeared into the blackness, saying something about going to look for the diary.
"Wait!" said Ginny, lunging to try and grab her, but she was gone, and Ginny fell and was now lying face down in the silent void once more. She laid there for an indefinite amount of time before slowly getting to her feet and walking back out to the circular room, after which she approached the next door and yanked it open. Again, there was nothing but impenetrable blackness. Then, a boy emerged from the void, just as the other figures had done. Untidy black hair with glasses, behind which were a pair of beautiful, emerald eyes… a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead…
"Harry!"
She ran to embrace him, but he held out his hands forcefully, preventing her from doing so.
"Stop it, Ginny."
The blood drained from her face.
"Harry?" she said uncertainly. "What's wrong?"
"I'm tired of your antics, Ginny," said Harry. "I'm tired of you obsessing over me. I'm tired of you fantasizing about me and worshipping me. I see it every time you look at me. It's pathetic."
"But Harry, I love you!" she said desperately.
"I love you too, Ginny, but you need to grow up."
Ginny gaped at him, momentarily lost for words. Then she looked miserably at her feet.
"I'm trying, Harry," she said in a small voice. "I really am."
"Try harder," he said tonelessly. "I promise I'll be here for you when you do."
He turned and walked away, vanishing into the black nothingness.
"HARRY!"
Ginny ran around in the void aimlessly, searching, but couldn't find him.
"HARRY!"
After a moment, she was forced to conclude that he was no longer here and looked around frantically for the way back to the circular room. She found a rectangular patch of dim blue light and ran through it, slamming the door behind her once again. She opened the final door. Hermione stepped out before Ginny had a chance to enter the dark room beyond.
"What's going on, Hermione?" said Ginny frantically. "I don't understand…"
Hermione looked around the circular room curiously.
"I think it's a puzzle," she said thoughtfully. A seventh door appeared after she spoke. "Ah! Yes, see —"
Ginny went to open the new door, but it was locked. There was a dial on it, like the one on the telephone to get into the Ministry. Ginny promptly dialed four four six six nine and the door opened.
"Good job, Ginny," said Hermione appreciatively. Ginny followed Hermione through the door.
They were now in a large, empty, square room. Torches along the wall bathed the room in a dull light. Ginny could see the opposite wall had two plain black doors, each the same distance from the corners of the room.
"One is the exit," said Hermione.
"And the other?" said Ginny, having a bad feeling that she knew what the answer was.
"Behind the other is death," said Hermione plainly. Ginny got the answer she expected, but her heart still sank.
"Do you know which door is correct?" she asked Hermione.
"I do not."
Ginny walked forward until she was arm's length from the door on the left, examining it closely. Instinct was telling her this was the correct door. But how could she be sure? She walked methodically to the other door and looked it over closely as well. The doors appeared completely identical. Still, something was telling her to choose the door on the left. She made her way back over to it and reached for the handle.
"I think you should choose the other door, Ginny," said Hermione anxiously.
"Why?"
"It feels right."
Ginny slowly backed up to the center of the room. She looked at one door, then the other, deliberating. Who should she trust? Hermione, or herself? Only one could be right. She could not make the wrong choice; her life depended on it. Ginny went back to the door on the left and reached for the handle again.
"You aren't going to listen to me?" said Hermione.
"You don't know which one is correct any more than I do!" said Ginny.
"You do not trust me?"
"I…"
Ginny did not know what to say. She did trust Hermione, but she trusted her instinct too. Making her way back to the center of the room, she stared at the doors again. She stood there for what felt like an hour, but it also could have been just a couple minutes. It was very hard to tell. She could not stay in this room forever; she had to make a decision. But it was simply an impossible one to make. How could she know which door was correct?
A/N: I wrote this a long time ago while drunk. The intention was always to put it here. I almost made a huge canonical mistake, forgetting Ginny woke up in the DOM rather than in the hospital wing, so I had to go and delete half of the next chapter and start over. Hopefully this fills the void while I go back and rewrite it. Two more chapters until OOTP is complete, then the fun begins with HBP.
