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The Very Secret Diary of Ginny Weasley
By Hettie Hoffleboffer

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Category: Pre-OotP
Characters:Harry/Ginny, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger
Genres: Angst, Drama
Warnings: Violence
Story is Complete
Rating: PG-13
Reviews: 10
Summary: Ever wonder what really happened with Ginny, Tom Riddle and his diary? The often amusing and insightful truth unfolds as you go behind-the-scenes of Book Two and expeience the events of CoS through Ginny's eyes. From learning the intracasies of stalking your crush, afternoon teas with Hagrid, and finding out the true author of Harry's Valentine, you'll see that Ginny's first year at Hogwarts is one she will not soon forget--and neither will you!
Hitcount: Story Total: 149888; Chapter Total: 20329


Chapter Eleven: Ginny’s Decision

Despite the diary incident, the Christmas holidays were some of the best times Ginny had at Hogwarts. Her mother was right, spending time with her brothers did loads for her morale, and for the first time in months, she was happy again.

When the new term started, the students of Gryffindor immediately took notice of Hermione’s absence, thinking that the Heir of Slytherin had struck again. As Ginny thought back on the situation, it was rather funny that even a know-it-all like Hermione was just as capable of making mistakes, like everyone else. Before she knew it, a few weeks had passed and Madam Pomfrey finally gave the okay to see Hermione in the infirmary.

Ginny stood there with a bunch of hand-picked flowers from the greenhouse, behind the curtain of Hermione’s hospital bed.

“Are you decent?” she asked.

“As much as I’ll ever be,” Hermione said nervously. “Just try not to laugh okay.”

Ginny pulled back the curtain. Ron certainly wasn’t kidding when he said that Hermione looked like one of the wild cats that lived in the fields behind the Burrow. Hermione’s brown and orange fur nearly covered all of her face and body, except for her own bushy mane that still remained. Her eyes were narrow and yellowed like a cat’s, even a few whiskers peeked out from beneath her triangular pink nose. By far the most amusing feature to see (as was Ron’s) was Hermione’s tail, which twitched with nervousness behind her.

“I look awful don’t I?”

The young redhead tried her best to keep a straight face. “No, not at all. But I’ll admit, you do remind me of a stray kitten I once took care of,” she giggled.

“Thanks,” Hermione smiled sarcastically. “Really, the worst part is this darn tail. I can hardly sleep a wink at night.”

Ginny stifled a laugh once again, holding up her bouquet. “Here, I brought you some flowers. Fred suggested that I bring you some catnip, but I thought better of it.”

A most serious look came across Hermione’s face for a moment, but suddenly cracked into a smile. At once, the two girls caved in and burst into hysterical laughter.

“Oh!” said Hermione, suddenly remembering something, while trying to compose herself. “Speaking of get well gifts, take a look at this!”

She turned around in her bed and pulled out a small piece of parchment from beneath her pillow, handing it to Ginny.

“What’s this?”

“Read it,” Hermione said, barely able to contain her excitement.

It was a get well note from Professor Lockhart. Ginny knew already that Hermione had a bit of a crush on him. She must have been sleeping with the note under her pillow for weeks.

“That’s a lovely sentiment,” she said kindly to her friend, who looked anxious for a look of approval.

Hermione clapped her hands together. “It’s just wonderful,” she said dreamily, before coming back to reality. “Could you not tell Harry and Ron about this? They would only tease me, especially Ron, he’s terrible about that you know.”

“Your secrets’ safe with me,” Ginny said proudly.

“So,” Hermione questioned her new confidant. “Are there any boys who have caught your eye so far this year?”

“Yes, but I can’t tell you who it is.”

“Why not?”

“You would laugh.”

“No, I won’t. You can tell me, really.”

Ginny wasn’t sure what made her do it, whether she was still basking in the glow of female bonding, or just the simple fact of wanting to exchange a secret for another.

She bit into her lip nervously. “Well you have to promise also not to say anything.”

Hermione gave her an almost exasperated look. “I swear, not a word. Now tell me who it is.”

“Harry,” muttered Ginny as quietly as she could.


“It’s Harry,” Ginny growled out of the side of her mouth.

“Oh, is that all,” Hermione said simply. “I knew that already.”

“You did?” Ginny blushed furiously.

“Of course,” she said matter-of-factly “Ron told me.”

Ginny rolled her eyes, and covered her face with her hands. “Well that’s just brillant! And I suppose then that Harry knows too, and thinks that I’m nothing but a silly little girl with a crush!”

She suddenly felt the reassuring hand of Hermione on her shoulder. “Oh, I’m sure it’s not like that at all. Harry would never think that of you.”

Blinking away tears of embarrassment, Ginny looked up from her hands. “You really think so?”

“Personally, I think you would make a delightful pair!”

“Honestly?” Ginny sniffled.

“I swear by my tail,” Hermione said, placing her furry hand over her heart.

“Thanks Hermione,” she said with a laugh of relief. “I needed that.”

* * *

Ginny laid in her four poster that night, twisting her hair between her fingers while she stared at the ceiling, deep in thought. It’s so wonderful to finally have a real girlfriend to finally confide in, she thought to herself. Even as much as she enjoyed talking to Tom, having someone of flesh and blood to interact with, and physically respond to, meant so much more than any enchanted object could ever give her.

“Perhaps I should give Hogwarts another chance after all,” she thought. “I’m sure if I put out more of an effort like I did with Hermione, I would be sure to make some friends. Not to mention I wouldn’t have to burden Tom with my problems all the time.”

“Tom,” she reflected. “I don’t even think I’ve written to Tom since the start of term, she smiled to herself. How funny, I haven’t even thought about it.”

She continued to lie there in her bed for a moment longer until she sat up in her bed as clear as day. “Is it possible that I may not need Tom anymore?”

* * *

Picking her way through breakfast, Ginny deliberated in her mind whether or not to do it. She knew it would be a difficult task, but it was time, and she felt ready.

Herbology class couldn’t have ended soon enough, and she made her way to a quiet corner of the library to write in the diary one last time.

“Dear Tom, I have something to tell you, but I’m afraid to do it. You have been such a good friend to me, I don’t want you to be upset for feel hurt by what I’m about to tell you.”

Tom replied in his usual understanding manner. “Ginny, You know that it’s all right to tell me anything. I will understand. What is it?”

She bit into her lip, still nervous to write the words. Having depended on him for so long, she wasn’t sure that she could do it; But she had to, it was for her own good. Ginny closed her eyes, holding her breath a moment and wrote down the words, “I’ve decided to give you up Tom.”

There was a pause before Tom’s words again appeared before her in the diary. “But why Ginny? Why would you do this? Have I done something wrong?”

“No, no, no, not at all! It’s been truly incredible to have you here as a friend that I can talk to anytime I need to, to seek advice from, or just someone to listen to me. It’s like having a friend that I can carry around in my pocket. I really can’t thank you enough for that.

“But now I think I need to be on my own for awhile, to figure some things out for myself. I’m so sorry to do this to you Tom. I really am. You are the best friend a girl ever had.”

Tom’s writing became faster, almost frantic as it appeared. “Ginny, I beg of you, do not do this to me. Think about what you are doing? Who will you turn to? Are you so sure that this is the right answer?

“You have put so much of yourself into me, I am not sure that you should give me up so easily.”

Ginny looked at the diary curiously. He had never acted like this before. “What do you mean Tom?”

“What I mean is that there are things I can help you with. With all that you have put into me, I have grown powerful. Powerful enough to begin to help you Ginny. Help you to get what you want, even Harry Potter.”

Ginny looked at the tiny book in front of her. Tom’s words rang true. She had put her very soul into the diary before her, and yet, somehow she felt suddenly frightened by his desperate need to keep her close. As if he was afraid himself to let her go. “I’m sorry Tom, but I just can’t do it.”

His scrawl was sloppy now, and it had become difficult to read, and Ginny wasn’t sure that she had understood the next passage he wrote. “You have no idea what you are saying Ginny. I do not believe that you understand the repercussions of what you are about to do.”

Her eyes filled with tears at his words. They were almost cruel, disrespectful even. Tom had never said anything like this to her before. She had to end, before they said things that they both regretted. “I’m sorry Tom. Goodbye.”

And with a growing lump in her throat as her final words seeped into the page, Ginny put down her quill and closed Tom Riddle’s diary.

* * *

Ginny ran down the corridor, her mournful sobs echoing off the walls. She wasn’t sure where she was going, but she soon found herself back on the second floor, near the writing on the wall. Guilt and regret began creeping back into her mind, but she knew that she had done the right thing.

Filch had left his usual post, no doubt chasing after Peeves about something or other, so once again, she ignored the ‘Out of order’ sign on the door to the girls’ bathroom, and walked inside.

Splashing cool water on her face did little to calm her down. As she looked up at her reflection in the mirror above her, she again felt the strangest sense of deja vu. At first, she thought she was only remembering the first encounter in the bathroom, the day she first saw the writing outside in the corridor, but the butterflies fluttering inside her told her otherwise.

Sighing deeply, Ginny turned around and turned toward the door again, glancing at the damp floor beneath her feet, when suddenly it hit her. She whirled around and ran back to the mirror above the sink.

“Reflection . . . damp floor . . . BLOODY HELL!”

She had been right all along. She really had been involved in the attacks. It wasn’t a dream after all. It was real.

She paced back and forth, trying to sort out her thoughts. “But how? How could I have done it? she thought, her mind reeling, as she began pacing back and forth on the wet floor. Have I been helping Harry all along? Did Hagrid somehow have a spell over me as well, like he did with Harry?”

“Harry. But was it really Harry then?”
The boy in her dreams was older, similar to Harry in many ways. But it wasn’t really him. He looked almost like . . . like Tom.

“No, it couldn’t be?” she thought, stopping in her tracks. “Tom wouldn’t do that.” It seemed ridiculous to even think it, but as she did, her gut instinct told her to believe it.

“Tom has been so kind and understanding, and I have been writing to him in the diary for so long, I just don’t know how he could have done it anyway.”

Her eyes grew wide as a epiphany struck her. “Hold on, the diary!”

It was the diary that was with her every time there was an attack, or whenever she found herself sleepwalking. And on those nights, she always seemed to fall into a deep sleep after writing to him.

Ginny pulled the diary from her robes and looked at it. “Well there’s only one way to know for sure that it will never happen again!” She hiked the book back behind her in her best Quaffle pitch, and threw it into the nearest stall. But instead of a splash, she heard the moaning of a girl.

Horrified, Ginny ran for the door.

As the silver image of Moaning Myrtle flew from the stall to see who had thrown the book at her, she saw nothing but the slamming of the door behind them.
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