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FIRE FORGOTTEN
Fire and Ice
By: Robert Frost
Some say the world will end in fire;
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To know that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
CHAPTER 1: Year 1, Forgotten
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow
Creeps this pretty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way our dusty death. Out, out, brief candle.
- Shakespeare (Macbeth - Act 5, scene 5)
On reflection, the first year was the hardest. Being the first Weasley in...in ever...to be put in the Slytherin house is a bit daunting for an eleven year old with puffy-cloud dreams and heart-eyes for the Boy-Who-Lived. I think now that I was naïve, shy, gullible, and utterly hopeless my first year. No longer though.
It all started when I was ten. Just ten years old. I was a skinny little girl with red hair (What Weasley didn't have red hair?), scabby knees, and a tendency to have a little scuff of dirt on my cute little nose. I had wanted to go to Hogwarts since my oldest brother, Bill had gone. He was out of school by then, doing Merlin-knows-what in Egypt; sandy, filthy place if you ask me. Anyway, back to ten years old. I was just ten years old and going with my mother to Platform 9 ¾, dropping my brothers, George, Fred, and Ron, off on the Hogwarts Express...
"Now what's the platform number," Ginny's mother asked.
"Nine and three-quarters," Ginny piped, jumping slightly as she said it, a hint of glee in her warm brown eyes. "Mum, can't I go..."
"You're not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. All right, Percy, you go first."
Ginny puffed out her chest indignantly, turning a bit red. She was never old enough. She was never big enough, or smart enough, or funny enough, or strong enough. She was never ENOUGH anything.
"Fred, you next," her mother said.
"I'm not Fred, I'm George," Fred said. Ginny could always tell the difference. "Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother? Can't you tell I'm George?"
Ginny giggled behind her hand.
"Sorry, George, dear," her mother said absently.
"Only joking, I am Fred," Fred said, laughing as he plowed into the barrier.
Ginny laughed outright now and her mother said, "Very funny," under her breath.
"Excuse me," a voice said from behind her.
"Hello, dear," her mother said cheerfully. "First time at Hogwarts? Ron's new, too."
Ginny turned around and her breath caught in her throat. It was HIM! She scanned him over with her eyes quickly. Black hair, check. Bright green eyes, check. Kind of skinny, check. Scar (the most important), check. It WAS him!
"Yes, the thing is - the thing is, I don't know how to -"
"How to get on the platform," her mother concluded kindly. "Not to worry," her mother said after he nodded. "All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten..."
Ginny had stopped listening. It was her dream come true. She knew, through many hours of math, that he could be at Hogwarts with her brother Ron, then her when she got accepted. It was just...real...now. She was totally unprepared. Then he left, walking though the barrier before Ron.
After they left, her mother grabbed for Ginny's hand again, this time taking her though the barrier of Platform 9 ¾. Ginny had been here many times before and all the noises, smells, and sights were familiar to her. The great, scarlet Hogwarts Express loomed above the crowds and she craned her head to look up at it. The sound of screeching owls, mewling cats of all color, and the background of chattering people and witches and wizards announcing the time, the day, advertisements and et cetera filled her ears. And the smell of steam and too many people entered her nose; she was home.
The glory was short-lived. "Fred? George? Are you there?" her mother said, well above the volume of the crowds.
"Coming, Mum," Fred said. He and George walked over looking over their shoulders as they left.
"Ron," her mother said. "You've got something on your nose."
"Mum!" he said, wriggling away and jostling Ginny a bit. She was looking around for Harry. Then she saw him again. He was watching them from the train, trying to hide. Ginny licked her lips and turned so she could see him from the corner of her eye.
"Hey, Mum, guess what?" Fred said, casting a little look at Ginny. "Guess who we saw on the train?"
Ginny saw Harry lean back, out of her view.
"You know that black-haired boy who was near us in the station? Know who he is?"
Yes! Ginny wanted to scream.
"Who?" Ginny's mother asked in a humoring voice.
"Harry Potter!" the twins said in unison.
Ginny couldn't contain herself anymore, "Oh, Mum, can I go on the train and see him, Mum, oh please..."
"You've already seen him, Ginny, and the poor boy isn't something you goggle at in a zoo. Is he really, Fred? How do you know?"
"Asked him," Fred said with a smug smile. "Saw his scar. It is really there - like lightning."
Ginny could see Harry's form in the window once more. She looked up at him for a long while until her mother began saying good-bye.
"We'll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat," George joked.
"George," her mother said in a scandalized voice.
"Only joking, Mum."
The train whistle blew and the train began to move.
"By Fred, by George, by Ron," Ginny said, kissing each of her brothers on the cheek in turn.
Then her mother lead her out of King's Cross and they got ice cream; a great ending for an exciting day.
It was the worst case of hero-worship you could imagine. I mean, it was sick. It was like a disease that ate at my thoughts. I must have thought about him twelve thousand times a day, every day until I saw him that next summer.
Sure I tried to occupy myself. I took up Quidditch, though the house was so lonely, no one to play with, and no one for miles to visit. I really could only practice with my mother, which wasn't too bad as she had been a Chaser in her seventh year at Hogwarts. She taught me the basics.
Then I started writing, keeping a diary. I'll read you one of my earliest excerpts. Ahem,
Dear Diary,
Today Mum and I went shopping. It was real exciting, we got to look at the Nimbus 2000; it's the best broom on the market. Mum is teaching me the piano and guitar, I'm not sure how she knows. She's teaching me to paint a bit too. Most of my paintings are dumb; I've painted people looking suspiciously like Harry Potter. I don't know what is wrong with me. Ginny Potter...Virginia Anne Potter-Weasley...Virginia Anne Potter...Mrs. Harry Potter...Virginia Potter...Mrs. Virginia Ginny Potter...
Path-e-tic. Really, I guess it wouldn't have been healthy for me to write anything else. What ten year old girl writes deep meaningful poetry anyway. Oh, I write poetry too. I've been told by some that it is quite good actually. Here, this is my first poem:
His eyes are green as a fresh pickled toad,
His hair as dark as a blackboard.
I wish he was mine, he's really divine,
The hero who conquered the Dark Lord.
Embarrassing, no? Really I did use good enter line rhyming and good simile usage. But really, Gin, "a fresh pickled toad," it is enough to give him nightmares. Talk about obsession...Merlin...
So with Quidditch, painting, writing, learning to sew, and helping my mother out around the house, I kept my mind more or less out of the clouds. Summer rolled around and George, Fred, and Ron came back. All of them had stories about Hogwarts, and Ron treated me to the real story about what happened with the Sorcerer's Stone. I had even more itching powder in my pants (figuratively and literally thanks to Fred and George) after that and I'm sure I talked about Harry non stop the rest of summer. Of course my brothers made fun of me, why wouldn't they, I was a wreck.
One night, I heard a peculiar sound, the sound of an engine revving. This was after Ron hadn't heard from Harry all summer and was convinced Harry's aunt and uncle had killed him or something. I put the pieces of the puzzle together too slowly to realize what they were doing.
That morning I knew that he was going to be there, I just...panicked...
Ginny woke up to the unmistakable high-pitched yell of her mother's voice. She was downstairs and shouting at the top of her lungs. Ah, she must have discovered Fred, George, and Ron's little drive, she thought.
Ginny got out of bed slowly, savoring the fact that school was starting in less than two weeks. Less than two weeks until Hogwarts with HARRY POTTER! She clenched her heart and slowed her breathing, preparing to go down stairs.
Then went down the stairs and panicked. She darted back up as soon as she got down the stairs. Hiding behind the wall so no one could see or hear her she squealed with her hand over her mouth. She knew he'd be there, why was she being so stupid?
The rest of the summer she would knock things over whenever he came around. She would turn a glorious shade of red every time he spoke to her; thankfully, those times were few and far between. And she would scream into her pillow every night and scribble 'I love Harry Potter' and 'Ginny and Harry forever' in her diary, whose pages were filling quite quickly and she had very few left.
Finally the day of the trip to Diagon Alley came. I must have spent half my life wondering what I'd be doing this exact day, what I'd be thinking, WHAT I'D BE WEARING? It took me about three hours to finally choose an outfit, not like I had a whole lot of a choice...
"You have these," Harry mumbled after being thoroughly embarrassed by Guilderoy Lockhart. Ginny didn't care for him, but her mother loved him. "I'll buy my own -"
"Bet you loved that, didn't you, Potter?"
Ginny knew who that was. Draco Malfoy. She'd heard enough from her father and mother and brothers that he was bad news. He sneered at Harry and something inside her snapped.
"Famous Harry Potter," Malfoy continued. "Can't even go into a bookshop with out making the front page."
"Leave him alone, he didn't want all that!" Ginny said, her Weasley fire thoroughly alight. She gave Malfoy her mightiest glare, satisfied when his smirk faltered ever so slightly. Damn Malfoy scum... she thought.
But he just smirked wider, "Potter, you've got yourself a girlfriend!"
Ginny turned the deepest shade of red the pigment of her skin could manage and shut up. That stung.
Basically after that charade, I didn't speak in front of Harry. Dad got in the fight with Lucius Malfoy after he slipped the Diary in with all my books. I didn't even notice and I was right there, so how Harry did I'll never know.
We went home and mother yelled some more, what else was new? She is a yeller my mother. She'd never touch any of us, but yell, you bet. Her face gets all red, and all of her five feet and five inches seem to be seven feet. Then her voice, ouch, it can change octaves faster than you can say 'Quidditch.' It's scary, really it is.
Though not quite as scary as my first day at Hogwarts.
Ron and Harry weren't on the train! I saw them before I walked thought he barrier with Mum. I saw them with my own two, Merlin-be-damned, big, brown eyes! I learned later, of course, they'd taken Dad's Ford Anglia and flew it to Hogwarts.
So I rode with Hermione the whole time, which would have been fine if she talked about something other than school or books or Hogwarts, A History. But she didn't and I was bored out of my mind until she suggested that they go and find Ron and Harry. Fred and George said they'd not seen them since Platform 9 ¾, and then asked me if I thought my boyfriend was cheating on me.
I give fair warning to any one trying to take advantage of me and/or upsetting me and/or trying to rape me, I have a right hook that will knock you off your feet. Charlie taught it to me, and Charlie was not only a Champion Quidditch Captain, he was the best fighter in his year, or so he told it. At any rate, I gave fair warning, and George chose to ignore it.
Hermione ditched me after that, saying something about needing to talk to Neville Longbottom, and left me outside my brother's and their friend, Lee Jordan's, compartment very livid.
Why shouldn't I have the right to defend myself, I mean, I was a big girl, right? I didn't need anyone, certainly not brother's who made fun of me at the young and tender age of ten, eleven on the 22nd of September. I was going to be something. Maybe I would be a champion Quidditch Chaser; maybe I would be a great painter, or writer!
I was sick of standing in the collective shadow of my brothers', I wouldn't stand for it any more. This may not have been the greatest attitude to enter the Great Hall in because, for one thing, I had no fear, just the intense need to be something, to be noticed...
Ginny was different, sure. Unlike her fellow classmen, she wasn't nervous or shivering scared. No, Ginny Weasley was determined. Her face set in an unmistakable, unwavering, mask of confidence. She was lead into the hall by the prim and uptight Professor McGonagall.
Professor McGonagall took one look at her and said, "Ah, another Weasley I see." Then the Deputy Headmistress gave her a piercing look and her expression changed when she saw Ginny's determined face.
Professor McGonagall frowned as a person would when they didn't like or trust what they saw would, and began her little speech, "Welcome to Hogwarts. The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take you seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend time in your house common room.
"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn you house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most house points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will become a credit to whichever house becomes yours.
"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest that you smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting.
"I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly," Professor McGonagall finished. She took one more look at Ginny before turning on a heel and leaving the small and frightened first years.
The mousy haired boy who had fallen in the lake behind her spoke up, "What house do you think you'll be in? Hi, I'm Colin, Colin Creevey."
"Ginny Weasley," Ginny said, putting forth her hand, still confident after the little speech of McGonagall's. "And I expect I'll be in Gryffindor. All six of my brothers, both my parents, and every relative I've ever met has been."
"Wow! I'm not from a wizarding family; my parents are both Muggle and everything. But did you know, Harry Potter goes here!" he said anxiously.
"I know," Ginny said, her demeanor faltering just slightly.
"I'm going to take as many pictures as I can to show my brother and my -"
"We are ready for you," Professor McGonagall said, coming into view again. Ginny was thankful she had interrupted because she was sure she would have had to strangle that kid if he didn't shut up soon. "Form a line now, all orderly like."
They did, Ginny near the end, her last name being 'Weasley' and all. The line moved slowly, student's names being called loudly, then their house. The Creevey boy had been the first Gryffindor and Ginny though she might shoot herself if she was the only other Gryffindor with him.
As the Sorting Hat neared her name, she began listening.
"Parkinson, Allen…"
"Slytherin!"
"Quest, Jeremiah…"
"Ravenclaw!"
"Rosier, Evan…"
"Slytherin!"
"Spinnet, Laura…"
"Gryffindor!"
"Strattleford, Olive…"
"Hufflepuff!"
"Weasley, Virginia…"
Ginny walked up to the three-legged chair and Professor McGonagall. Before it went over her eyes, she saw Fred and George giving her a thumb's up. I'll show you, she thought almost as darkly as the blackness of the inside of the Sorting Hat.
"Oh, will you now," a small voice said in her ears. "Another Weasley I see."
Yes, she gulped mentally.
"Interesting to be sure," the hat said. "Show who?"
Everyone, Ginny answered darkly.
"Indeed," the hat said in an amused sounding voice. "Show them what?"
I'm just as good as they are. Show them that even though I'm the youngest, I can still be something. I am not afraid.
"Interesting, interesting. Well, with an attitude like that, I know just where you belong...with SLYTHERIN!"
I was convinced that my life ended here. I had been put into Slytherin.
No one clapped.
Professor McGonagall took the hat off my head, looking at me like I was a leper, and told me to get off the chair and join my table.
My table? MY TABLE? What was she, some sort of insensitive block of ice? How could she ask me to join MY TABLE? I had been made a SLYTHERIN! I was supposed to be a Gryffindor! A Gryffindor! Mum was a Gryffindor, Dad was a Gryffindor, Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, Ron, and every other Weasley I'd ever met, known, or heard of had been a GRYFFINDOR! And she wanted me to join MY TABLE?
So I joined my table. The Slytherin scooted far away from me, far, far, far away from me, looking at me like McGonagall had, like I was diseased. The stopped staring at me long enough to clap for their newest member, Jonathan Wilkes, then started up again.
I still don't know how I got though that meal. Neither Fred nor George nor Percy came over to me, and Ron and Harry were no where in sight. I was alone...all alone. But I wasn't scared. In retrospect, that was should have sent my Weird-d-d-dness Detector Scales off the second I recognized it. I wasn't scared. What the hell was wrong with me? A poor, ten-(soon to be eleven)-year-old Muggle-loving, red-headed, and defenseless WEASLEY sitting at the Slytherin table and I wasn't scared? No matter how I thought of it, I should have been scared. But I wasn't. More than anything, I was sad. You have no idea how it feels to be so lost, so utterly lost you can't even think straight, in an evil world of dark Slytherin intrigue and mind games. It is depressing to know that your family shunned you because of it. And why shouldn't they? I was an abomination.
Not only that, I couldn't turn to a Slytherin for comfort, no more than I could turn to my family or any other Gryffindor for that matter. There were no girls in my year, that much I knew, only six boys. Six boys whom I would have to see every day, in every class for the next seven years.
This is where the whole 'Satan's Diary' problem, as I now refer to it, came into play. I was alone, no one to confide in, what the hell was a going to do, talk to a wall? I think not. I was going to write...and write and write and write.
But first something happened I will never forget...
Ginny got up in a daze, the house prefect, a dark and intimidating sixth year named Amia Taves, lead her and the rest of the house to their common rooms. It was in the dungeons, deep beneath the school.
This furthered my self-hatred later. Think about it. Snakes crawl on the ground. They are disgusting bottom dwellers. They lurk in the holes underneath the world, secluded from the happiness of the sun. I was underneath (literally and figuratively) the whole school and world for that matter.
In the belly of the dragon it seemed, or a snake for that matter. As they entered the common room, the stern, oily-haired, dark eyed, frowning form of Professor Snape met them, looking, well, nasty. He stared hard at her, but she didn't react. She wasn't afraid; she was too numb to be afraid.
"I am your Head of House, Severus Snape. Those of you who are new will soon learn that I have something of a short fuse when it comes to other houses. I expect my house to be the best, and I expect them to win in everything they do.
"With that, I leave you," he said.
Short and sweet, Ginny thought. As everyone was breaking up, he walked straight at her and said, "Ms. Weasley, I'd like to see you in my office, now."
She nodded and followed him not so calmly. From what she'd heard of Snape from her brothers, he was a pompous git who hated Gryffindors. Would he hate her? She was supposed to be a Gryffindor, right? The hat had made a huge mistake.
"So, Ms. Weasley," he began, his hands templed in front of him and looking mighty intimidating.
She stayed silent, not sure how she was supposed to answer.
"You have been put in the Slytherin house, Ms. Weasley. I'm sure you're aware of the awkwardness of all this. Your family is historically Gryffindor; you are the first since the beginning of this school to be put in Slytherin. Are you scared?"
Ginny swallowed. "A bit," she lied, furious how easily it came off her tongue.
He nodded. "Contrary to what you might have heard, I am available to," he made a nasty face, "to talk to."
She nodded, looking into his black orbs. Her obvious lack of fear seemed to upset him a bit and he cleared his throat and said, "You may leave, Ms. Weasley."
Then she left. Kindness (or something like it) from Snape was something she wouldn't have expected in a thousand years. But then again, she never in a thousand years expected that she would be sorted into Slytherin, so things were going just her way it seemed.
She crossed the common room; all eyes were on her, most prominently a pair of malicious, gray ones, sparkling in the corner. Ginny tried to ignore this, but it was hard. She went to the room labeled 'First Year Girl's Dormitories' and opened the door. Only one bed was present; no girls as she had suspected. Her stomach got all queasy and she ran to the bathroom behind the first door and puked everything she'd eaten for the past few days into the toilet. She got up and washed her mouth out.
Then she went back to her bed and began unpacking. That was when she stumbled on the most extraordinary of things; a diary. It wasn't hers though. In fact, it didn't have any names on it. She opened it and looked down on it. It had the date; that was all.
Walking with it and a quill to her desk, she sat down and thought over what to do. She didn't buy it, she knew. Maybe her mother had. Sometimes her mother did things like that, just get her things. Like the new robes that she'd been given, her mother just up and gave them to her.
Just as she was about to put quill to parchment, her door opened, which was weird because she was the ONLY female Slytherin first year.
Just her luck, it was Draco Malfoy.
He entered her room, closing the door behind him and smirking. "So, a Weasley in Slytherin. I'm waiting."
She looked at him, her face completely devoid of every emotion; she was still to numb to feel.
"Well," he said raising his eyebrow and leaning against a bed frame.
"Get out," she commanded in a small, yet still forceful voice, boring into his hard gray eyes.
His smirk faltered for a matter of seconds, then he frowned. "There is something odd about you, what did you say your name was?"
"I didn't."
He frowned deeper, "Shall I just call you Weasley then? Fine. There is something odd about you Weasley, and I plan on figuring you out."
He turned to leave and then paused in the doorway, "It doesn't matter; you'll probably be dead by morning anyway.
Then he left. She slammed the diary shut, becoming more and more disgusted with herself with every breath she drew. Ginny threw herself on the bed and cried.
Yes, to my eternal pride, I cried. You thought I was going to say eternal shame, didn't you? I thought so. No, if anything, I'm proud of the way I handled that day.
The rest of the days that year; eh, not so much.
I remember very precious little about the first month of school. I remember taking long, scaldingly hot showers trying to wash she filth I felt off myself. I remember not being able to look anyone in the eye. I remember my mother's letter. Here's just a bit for you to try on for size.
"…and wrote us immediately. I don't know what to say other than your father and I are proud of you. We know you will honor the morals and values we have taught you, and do your house good. Slytherin needs a happy face as far as I'm concerned, too much frowning in that area of Hogwarts if I can remember correctly. Just remember, we love you with all our hearts…"
Well what else could they say? "We hate you, never come home and don't bother writing. By the way, does Hogwarts offer summer classes, if so you should look into that?" No, my parents wouldn't say that. They were too understanding, too noble to do something that drastic, though the letter felt a bit chilly to me.
Another thing, I remember my brother, Ron, and I having a bit of a row at breakfast the next day.
"GINNY!"
Her name was shrieked above the whole school's chatterings that morning at breakfast.
"VIRGINIA ANNE WEASLEY!" Ron said, charging his sister, Harry and Hermione not able to do a thing.
"What?" Ginny asked as her brother approached.
"WHAT! WHAT! You go and get yourself sorted into SLYTHERIN and all you can say is WHAT?" he yelled at the top of his lungs.
"What do you want me to say?" Ginny said, her voice dead.
"I don't know! Apologize? Make a big deal out of it? Ask to be RE-SORTED MAYBE? Anything will do!" he said furiously.
Her jaw trembled, but Hermione came to her rescue. "Ron," she said in a sensible voice, "You know that you can't be re-sorted, I read it in Hogwarts, A History. Now really, Slytherin has had some fine witches and wizards..."
"LIKE?"
"Well I can't think of any..." she began but fizzled off into a mumble.
"Ginny?" Harry said, looking straight at her. His bright green eyes brought some emotion to her face. "Are you going to be alright?"
"Yes," she said, blushing a bit.
"Well isn't this cute?" a dull voice drawled from behind them.
Ginny didn't need to turn around; Harry's eyes had gone wild with hate.
"Malfoy," Harry all but growled.
"I see you were talking with the newest Slytherin. How quaint. Going to ask Dumbledore if you can get her re-sorted?"
"Honestly!" Hermione sighed. "Has no one read Hogwarts, A History? You can't BE re-sorted!"
Draco ignored her and looped Ginny's arm with his, "Come, let's go join our house, Weasley.
He led Ginny away, practically quaking with laughter.
Ginny wanted to cry again.
I also remember being very lonely. So lonely, I resorted to a diary. This was the diary that would change me forever.
The thing that gets me every time is, for the longest time, he wouldn't write back. I would write, then ink would disappear, and I would keep on writing. I really did pour my soul into that diary. I told it everything, and it seemed to listen. Paper does that real well you know. But had I wanted something to listen, I could have talked to a wall. No, I wanted something that would answer.
At first, I thought I had willed the book to answer me, like I had used magic to make it write back. Tom squelched that idea pretty fast.
It became a pattern. Every night, I would be writing in my diary, and Draco Malfoy would come in. He would throw a few choice words at my pride, then leave. Always, though, he would say, "It doesn't matter; you'll probably be dead by morning anyway."
Then he would leave. And he never called me Ginny or Virginia or anything but Weasley. It was always Weasley.
I would go back to pouring my essence into an evil diary from hell until I almost fell asleep. I would drag myself into bed and hold my only friend to my chest, my diary.
Sick, isn't it? I know. But it didn't SEEM sick. It SEEMED natural. I guess I played right into Tom's game in that perspective. He was a good friend. He would listen, be caring, be sensitive. He would offer advice, he would offer sympathy. He was courteous, he was nice. He was like one of those guys you couldn't help but like.
And my grades went up. You'd think, "Eh, you say your grades went up? How duh ya figure?"
It was like I wanted to impress him, Tom that is. The tiniest, "Good job, Ginny," is what I lived for. Once again, sick, eh? Well you try being the Weasley-that-was-sorted-into-Slytherin-and-is-the-first-ever-to-do-so-and-has-no-friends-and-is-in-a-deep-well-of-depression-and-wants-to-kill-herself and then we'll see how picky YOU are about YOUR friends! I LIVED for those words, and I worked damned hard to hear them. Some one wanted me, damn it. It didn't matter that I was a Gryffindor at heart. I still though of myself that way, back then.
Anyway, I guess it was sometime after Christmas when I began wizening up. All I thought about was the diary, when I'd get to write in it next, what Tom would say, what praise I could get from him. I was his lap dog, his lonely, sick, lap dog and I loved it.
As I was saying, around Christmas, I dumped the Satan's Diary in Moaning Myrtle's toilet, hoping to be rid of it forever.
I was lonelier than I'd ever been. Now think; I'm the youngest of a family of seven. I've always had people around, annoying or not, the have always been there. And then to go from that many to having no one. If that doesn't kill you from the inside out, I'm not sure what is supposed to. So I began writing poetry, the first few thousand weren't any good, but like anything, you just have to practice.
And like before, every night, Draco would come in.
"It doesn't matter; you'll probably be dead by morning anyway."
I would occasionally say something, though I felt more dead than alive, and I felt more sad than dead, I'll let you imagine how sad that really is.
Then I saw him with it. Harry Potter with Tom's Diary. He couldn't have that book, I knew. Nothing short of getting that book could drive me to do what I did next…
"Hey Colin," she said in a cheerful voice to the mousy-haired Creevey boy.
"Oh, hi Ginny," he said in a bright voice.
At least he is too stupid to understand the differences between Gryffindor and Slytherin, she thought to herself.
"I was wondering," she said. "Do you have any of those pictures of Harry Potter on you?"
"Yeah!" he said, automatically riffling though his bag. Madam Pince glared at me but I ignored her. "Here," Colin said, giving her a stack of photos.
Damn, she thought. Think fast, Gin.
"Um, Colin," she said, smiling shyly, "These are all really great, but what about the none-moving ones, I like those better."
He frowned, "Why would you WANT to see those? They are boring!"
"I like Muggle photographs," she said, batting her eyelashes.
Colin's eyes grew huge and he swallowed hard. "Oh?"
I'm going to die!
She bit her bottom lip and said, "Can we see some now?"
He nodded and shoved his belongings in his book bag hastily. Too easy, she thought.
He led her right to the Gryffindor portrait, a fat lady in a red dress. He gave the portrait a password and they entered.
She liked the Gryffindor common room far better than her own. Thankfully it was a Hogsmeade weekend, so lots of kids were gone. The rest didn't give her a second glance. She was following him, looking around at the same time, until he stopped abruptly and turned around. She almost ran into him and Colin blushed.
"You're not supposed to go up here, Ginny. I'll get the photos, it might be a while," he said in a strangled voice.
"Okay, Colin," she said sweetly.
He disappeared and she counted to ten before sprinting up the stairs and finding Harry's room. If it was anymore of a pigsty, she never would have found the diary. As it was she had to throw everything every which way to find it. She grabbed it and sprinted back down the stairs, stuffing Tom's Diary into her book bag, just as Colin walked down the stairs.
"I've got them, Ginny," he said happily.
Ginny sighed. Now she was going to have to actually look at the pictures. At least she had Tom back.
I'll admit that after that I threw myself back into the book. I told Tom everything. I BEGGED for forgiveness! And at long last, he gave it to me.
I've said it before and I'll say it again, I was sick, sick and depraved.
I loved Tom, and he said he loved me; I could still be a Gryffindor at heart, I still had the bit of emotion it required to be Gryffindor. Isn't that kind of sad? I still longed to be a Gryffindor. It was like a life's dream to be told, "Ms. Weasley, there's been a mistake, you have been sorted into the wrong house. Here, come up to the warm Gryffindor tower and warm your feet. Here you will be welcome, here is your home."
It is true; I was shunned in the Slytherin common room. I was shunned by Slytherins. Hell, even the Hufflepuffs shunned me and they were supposed to be forgiving! I would have expected that Ravenclaws would be smart enough to figure I couldn't help I was put in Slytherin, but they looked the other way when I passed too. But Gryffindors avoided me like the plague. I was like a curse, a constant reminder that even the most historically Gryffindor families could have a bad seed.
And just when my depression had hit rock bottom, HE took me. He came out of the fucking book! Who could have called that one?
I remember thinking he looked a bit like Harry, and when I told him it amused him greatly. I didn't know why then, but he was obsessed with Harry. Always wanting to discuss him, he was almost worse than me, though my crush had been somewhat on the decline.
Anyway, he came out of the book and I don't remember anything until...
Ginny heard voices. Yes, they were definitely voices. Fuzzy and muffled, but still voices. It was like they were trying to break though the thick wall of cotton surrounding her head. She felt woozy, tired, only half conscious, and very, very, hungry. But she couldn't make herself move. She could almost feel her life force being dragged out of her, seeping though her skin in a most decidedly evil way.
The voices grew louder and louder, but still they were muffled. She felt so tired. If she could just go to sleep, maybe, she wasn't afraid; Tom would take care of her.
A scream cut through her conscious. Tom? She asked. She could feel him all the time now, even if she wasn't writing in the diary. Tom? Are you all right? Tom?
There was no answer. He had always been there before...
She moaned and tried to sit. Opening her eyes she was met by a pair of strikingly green ones. Him! All the barriers broke. Everything she'd carried inside herself since the beginning of term. All the pressure of being put in Slytherin, all the hatred that was cast at her, all the wishes for death in the night, gone, when he looked at her.
She looked around at Harry, blood-soaked but smiling...sort of, and then at the diary in his hands. The dam broke and the tears flowed evenly down her face.
"Harry - oh, Harry - I tried to tell you at b-breakfast, but I c-couldn't say it in front of Percy - it was me, Harry - but I - I swear I d-didn't mean to - R-Riddle made me, he t-took me over - and - how did you kill that - that thing? W-where's Riddle? The last thing I r-remember is him coming out of the diary -"
"It's all right," said Harry. And it was. She was suddenly very scared.
There! Let's press pause right there. She was suddenly very scared. No, I didn't do scared. I refused to be scared. I still had that desire to be seen, deep inside...deep, deep, deep inside. And scared people are never noticed. Scared people are cast aside like rag dolls and never looked at after their five minutes in the spotlight. No, I would have more than five minutes, I wouldn't be scared.
Okay, play.
Harry showed her the diary and the fang hole. "Riddle's finished," he said. "Look! Him and the basilisk. C'mon, Ginny, let's get out of here -"
Ginny then panicked. "I'm going to be expelled!" she wept, Harry helping her to her feet awkwardly. "I've looked forward to coming to Hogwarts ever since B-bill came and n-now I'll have to leave and -w-what'll Mum and Dad say?"
Instead of answering her, he urged her forward to a great beautiful bird, which they followed to an area that was caved in.
"Ron!" Harry yelled, pulling Ginny along faster. "Ginny's okay! I've got her!"
Ginny heard Ron's muffled cheer and his hand grabbed her and pulled her through a gap in the rocks.
"Ginny! I'm so sorry! And you're alive! I don't believe it! What happened? How - what - where did that bird come from?" Ron said, relief written all over his face.
Ginny burst into a new fit of sobbing and was only vaguely aware of the rest of the journey to her mother's arms. It seemed like forever since those loving arms had held her, it felt good to be loved again. And then her father followed in suit and hugged her. She was home again. Slytherin forgotten, she was a Gryffindor tonight, and her family loved her.
She wasn't scared. She was warm and wanted. It was a different way of not being scared though, this was, she knew that evil was out there, but right now, it couldn't get her. But it was this exact difference that scared her the most.
Then Harry launched into his explanation about the Chamber of Secrets. It took up the better part of twenty minutes. It became a bit dodgy when Professor McGonagall asked how they escaped, but I was saved by Dumbledore telling everyone that Tom Riddle had enchanted me. This seemed to get to my parents even more. I had to tell them that I had written in that diary all year, that I thought it was from them.
Dumbledore sent me to the infirmary and soon every thing was right as rain. My parents left and I took exams. I finished first in my class which I am ashamed to say is mostly because of Tom Riddle.
You wonder why I call him Tom Riddle I think. Well, Harry and Dumbledore call him Voldemort, thinking that is the way that they will escape fear. No, Tom would have loved it for people to fear his name, but he would have loved it even more if people said it out loud. He would think it a challenge to break this person. I say Tom Riddle because this would enrage him beyond all reason of a doubt. His filthy Muggle name; yes, that would get under his skin. If anyone has earned the right to tell call him by this name, it is me. I will forever call him Tom, and he will call me Ginny.
As I was saying; everything was as right as rain. And then he came. (No, not HIM. No, not HE either. I know this is very confusing, I have far too many HEs and HIMs and now I've thrown a 'he' at you. Tsk, tsk, tsk. HIM is Voldemort or as I say, Tom Riddle. HE is Harry. And 'he' is Draco.) He came. Draco Malfoy. Every day before I slept.
"It doesn't matter; you'll probably be dead by morning anyway."
The coldness came back two times that of before. Every part of me that was Gryffindor was Slytherin again. I wasn't scared any more. I was too numb to be scared.
Author's Note: Poem at the beginning, "Fire and Ice," is by Robert Frost.