Ginny Weasley and the Heir of Slytherin

The Beguiling Diary

The first thing Ginny did when she got home was hide in her bedroom. Now she could freely cry, but she didn't feel much like crying anymore, which was a bit of a shame somehow. Feeling as though she had been gone for days rather than hours, she sat down on her bed, her legs dangling over the edge, and decided to think to herself as she had no one to talk to — no friends. She sighed sadly and turned to look at her pallid reflection in the mirror.

Hello, Self, she thought gloomily. How do you feel today?

Feeling hurt suddenly, Ginny laid on her back and stared at the low ceiling — thinking. She liked herself. Obviously, she had some faults, but overall she thought she was a good person. When she looked in the mirror, what she liked the least about her appearance was her clothing and second-least her freckles. Why did her family have to be so poor? Why did she have to be the youngest? She didn't mind being the only girl as much as she minded being the youngest. If there were just one Weasley younger than her, her life would be so much easier.

Ginny sat up again, feeling a little better. She did like being a girl. After all, it made her feel a little unique seeing how her mother was the only other female in the family and she was a full-grown woman, which (in Ginny's mind at least) was very different from being a girl. As for any females Ginny's age, there was only a neighbor girl named Luna Lovegood, who seemed very odd and distant. Ginny didn't know her very well. Sometimes being the only girl in the family made Ginny feel special, but other times it made her feel lonely. Now was one of the lonely times.

Ginny so wanted someone to talk to, but nobody she knew would understand how she felt right now. Strangely, she felt that Harry would understand. Maybe it had something to do with how he had been raised. If only she could make herself talk to him. He must think she was the most insecure little girl ever. But maybe when she was sorted into Gryffindor House which was known for bravery, he would think she was at least a little brave... unless she didn't make Gryffindor. After all, just because every Weasley had been in Gryffindor forever didn't guarantee she would. What if she ended her family's centuries-long line of Gryffindors? What would her parents say? And perhaps more painfully, what would her brothers say? Ginny couldn't believe the idea that she might not end up in Gryffindor didn't occur to her until that moment, but it didn't.

Feeling depressed and a bit scared, Ginny decided to take a look at her "new" supplies. She felt really poor — was there anything she owned that hadn't once belonged to someone else? Did all her possessions have to go through someone else before she could have them — as though she were less of a person than they were? The clothes she was wearing were starting to feel as though they were tattered rags — it made her feel worthless. She knew she shouldn't be feeling this way, but she just couldn't help herself. It wasn't fair.

In a fit of rage, Ginny knocked her cauldron over, causing her books and supplies to spill out onto the floor. They were so old, what did it matter if they got damaged? As she scanned the pile of supplies, she noticed a black object sticking out of a book her mother had bought. Naturally, she picked it up and saw it was a little diary. It was very old, fifty years based on the date, and had the name "T. M. Riddle" written on it. Had her mother bought it as a surprise gift for her?

Ginny had always wanted to share her feelings with someone who would understand and with this diary she could find out about its creator's innermost thoughts, which would somehow almost be the same thing. She gently opened the diary to the first page, which was blank. After flipping through the whole book, she found it had never been written in. She was crushed and sat thinking for a moment.

Well, her mother certainly wouldn't give her a blank diary with someone else's name on it without an explanation. Ginny ought to give this diary to her father so he could try and get it back to its rightful owner, but she wasn't about to let a free diary go to waste. She wanted to do something with it. Besides, she didn't know who it belonged to anyway — well, obviously it belonged to someone called "T. M. Riddle," but she had no idea who that might be.