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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: 149896; Chapter Total: 3096


Chapter Twelve: Valentines Day


“Moaning Myrtle. She’s been flooding the second floor girls bathroom all year,” Hermione explained matter-of-factly. “Didn’t you notice the ‘Out of Order’ sign on the door?”

“No. When you have to go that bad, door signs are the last thing you want to see. Besides, I try not to go near there as it is, with the attacks starting there and all,” Ginny said, trying to hurry through her own explanation. She had ended up telling Hermione that she rushed to the bathroom, and Moaning Myrtle, had scared her in the stall. But the way Hermione was eyeing her now as she told her it, Ginny realized that her story wasn’t flying.

Hermione was still in the hospital, with most of her whiskers gone, and her yellow eyes nearly returned to normal. Ginny suspected that she would be released soon enough. She hadn’t told her about the diary or Tom Riddle; she wanted to very much, but she wasn’t completely secure in her newfound friendship to start telling all of her secrets—especially the dangerous ones. All she needed was to get expelled from Hogwarts, just as things were beginning to turn around for her. No way.

Most of all, she needed confirmation of her beliefs about Tom Riddle and his diary before she began talking about it to anyone. She had to see Hagrid again.

The next day after Transfiguration, where Ginny had done quite well on transfiguring a flute into a quill, she went straight away to Hagrid’s hut. She knocked on the door, but no one answered. She walked around back, thinking perhaps that he was tending to his monstrous garden, but he wasn’t there either. She returned to the front, sitting on the steps of the hut and waited, wondering where he might be.

Ginny contemplated how she was go about getting the answers from Hagrid. She figured it shouldn’t be too hard, as he tended to run his mouth off when he was nervous, just as she did. Suddenly she heard whistling coming from the path leading from the castle. Hagrid was walking towards his hut, a bundle of wood planks in one arm, and various tools, including his pink umbrella in the other. She stood up, put on her best smile and waved him down.

“Well hullo there Ginny,” Hagrid shouted. “What can I do fer yeh on this fine day?”

Sitting there waiting had only made her more nervous about talking to him. She took a deep breath and said, “I came to talk to you about the Chamber of Secrets.”

Ginny wasn’t sure whether Hagrid had dropped the planks or his tools on his feet first, neither of which seemed to affect him. What struck her was the extremely frightened look that swept across his face, draining it of blood. “The Chamber o’Secrets,” he said shakily. “Why would yeh want to talk to me ‘bout that?”

Knowing she had to be very careful about how she phrased her questions, Ginny took her time, speaking slowly, so as not to raise suspicion about herself, or worse, Tom Riddle and his diary. “I want to know what happened fifty years ago.”

Hagrid stood up from his fallen belongings and took a step back. “I don’t know what yeh mean,” he said evasively.

“Rubbish, Hagrid,” she said angrily, pulling her wand on him. “I know that you were involved somehow. And I’m not afraid to tell Dumbledore and the entire school all about it, so you had better tell me the truth!”

She hated herself for sinking that low to get answers from him. Threatening him like that, knowing full well that she would have never gone through with it. But she had to know the truth, or his version of it.

Hagrid looked at her with his innocent black eyes and said, “Dumbledore already knows, Ginny.”

“What?” she said dumbfoundedly, dropping her wand slightly.

“Now before yeh go off blabbin’ to the entire school about it,” Hagrid continued, putting up his hands to hush her. “It’s best yeh come ‘nside.”

Sitting down in the oversized chair that she hadn’t occupied in months, Ginny watched Hagrid put on a kettle of water for tea, her wand still in hand, just in case.

“Well, yeh haven’t come ‘round to visit in a while Ginny. I’ve missed yeh.” he said, trying to delay things with some small talk.

“Hagrid,” she growled impatiently.

“Alright, alright,” Hagrid huffed. “It’s jus very difficult to talk ‘bout. It’s complicated.”

“Don’t worry,” Ginny said, tapping her wand on the armrest of her chair as a reminder. “I have plenty of time to listen to everything you have to say.”

Hagrid sat down on the bench opposite her. He looked as though he were going to be sick himself. “First of all, regardless o’what you might’ve heard, I did NOT open the Chamber of Secrets.”

Ginny continued to tap her wand on the armrest, saying dully, “But Hagrid, there is all this evidence that suggests otherwise. Tom Riddle found you with a creature kept inside the school. You were expelled because of it, and Riddle won an award for special services to the school. I did my homework.”

“Yeh have ta believe me, it was all a big misunderstandin’” he said, looking panicky. “It’s true that I was keepin’ a creature in the castle, but t’wasn’t the monster. And I’m certainly not the Heir of Slytherin!”

She looked at him very seriously. “Perhaps . . . but you can’t prove that.”

“Honest,” he pleaded. “Aragog would never hurt anyone. Even at the size that he was, he was still incapable o’really hurtin’ anyone.”

“Aragog? Who’s that?”

“Me pet acromantula.”

“An acromantula! Hagrid, are you completely mad?” she shouted, ineffectively trying to contain herself.

“Nah. Really Ginny, he was harmless. I raised him since he was a baby. And when Riddle found us, he thought Aragog was the monster.”

“Yeah right,” she thought to herself, realizing then that Tom Riddle had framed him. “Hagrid, you can’t expect someone to see that and not be upset.”

“I know,” Hagrid said solemnly. “Riddle turned me into Headmaster Dippet, and he believed Tom over me. Professor Dumbledore was the only one who believed me. Bein’ in third year, I was too young to go ta Azkaban, and even though I had been expelled, Dumbledore suggested that they keep me on an train meh as groundskeeper, since I had nowhere else ta go.”

Ginny put down her wand and looked up at Hagrid, his small beetle eyes on the verge of tears. She felt truly sorry for him. He was wronged and she knew it. Tom had framed Hagrid as a diversion away from himself. It made her sick to think about. And now, the ministry was watching Hagrid like a hawk, waiting for the next attack to put him in Azkaban. But if Dumbledore was the only one who had supported him throughout all of this, where was his family. Surely he had some.

“What about your parents?” she asked. “What did they think about all of this? Weren’t they able to support you through this tough time?”

Hagrid’s face sank even lower. “Me Mum left us when I was very young. It was just me and me dad until me second year when he died. I had no one.”

“I’m so sorry,” Ginny empathized. Often, she thought of how Harry spent his life without knowing any family but those dreadful Muggles, the Dursleys, which was barely a family itself. But she never imagined Hagrid living most of his life without anyone either.

She wanted to say, “Hagrid, I know it seems hopeless, but I promise you, there won’t be any more attacks,” but she couldn’t possibly divulge her involvement with Tom Riddle now, it was still too risky. Instead she said, “Hagrid, I’m sorry. I believe you, honestly I do. It wasn’t fair for them to treat you like they did. I wish there were something I could do. I won’t say anything about you and Aragog, I promise,” at which she got up from her chair and hugged him tightly, his scraggly beard tickling her face.

She left his hut saddened by his story, but she felt elated now that she knew the truth, because she also knew that this mistake would never happen again. The diary was gone now, lying in the dark sewers of Hogwarts, never to be seen again.

* * *

At the beginning of February, Hermione was finally released from the hospital. The last of her tail and whiskers gone, she was more than happy to return to her classes. In fact, spirits all around Hogwarts were high as Valentines Day approached, which may have also been due to the fact that no other attacks had been reported.

Professor Lockhart announced in class that there was to be a big surprise on Valentines Day. “And knowing Lockhart,” Ginny thought, “It will probably be loud and gaudy as usual.”

Even Hermione was getting in on the festivities, having decided to get Professor Lockhart a card herself, as a ‘thank you’ for the get well card she received from him. But Ginny thought differently, and when she questioned Hermione about it, Hermione made her promise not to say a word to either Ron or Harry. She could imagine the teasing Ron would inflict upon Hermione if he knew about it, so she kept quiet.

And speaking of teasing, Fred and George had surprisingly let up on her the last week or so about her poem in her Muggle diary. It was not like them at all, as their own taunts usually lasted months on end. She suspected that they were up to something, though she had no idea what it could be. Then again, all sorts of horrors sprung to mind when she did think about it, so she tried to do so as little as possible.

Ginny did think of giving Harry a Valentine herself, but she had no idea what to say to him. She tried writing a simple note, a long letter, a endearing poem, even a witty limerick, but nothing seemed good enough to give to him. Besides, she really wasn’t up to being rejected if she told him of her feelings, so she decided to throw out the idea altogether.

Ginny was right about Lockhart. As she entered the Great Hall for breakfast Valentines Day morning, it was draped entirely in enormous flowers in front of bright swags of sweetheart pink satin, and paper hearts of blue and pink showered from the ceiling. She thought vaguely that it looked like something out of a scarlet woman’s boudoir. It was sickening.
Not only did Lockhart have the Great Hall decorated like an obnoxious pink wedding cake, but he had hired several dwarves to dress as cupids and pass out Valentines to various humiliated students. Upon seeing this, she was thankful that she had decided against giving Harry a Valentine of any kind.

Breakfast was also the time where she finally found out what Fred and George were up to, when Fred nudged her as the dwarfs began their routes about the school.

“So Gin, did you write a ‘love letter’ to a certain someone this year?” he teased.

“How ‘bout you two dolts keep your mouths shut for a day?” she snarled back, preparing herself for the worst.

“I’d love a flowery poem,” George added. “His eyes are as green as a . . .”

“Fresh pickled toad!” Fred said in a high-pitched voice, clasping his hands together and batting his eyelashes, causing them both to roar with laughter.

Ginny grabbed some toast and bacon and left the Great Hall as quickly as her feet could carry her.

That afternoon, as she was heading for her History of Magic classroom, she heard a loud shout coming from down the hallway.

“Oy, you! ‘Arry Potter!”

Ginny turned around to see a rather red-faced Harry scurrying down the hallway, with Ron not too far behind, in an attempt to outrun a greasy-haired dwarf, with a heavy five o’clock shadow on his grim looking face. Ginny wondered who on earth would be sending Harry a Valentine, but smiled inwardly at the dwarf, who was nearly knocking people down just to get to Harry. Once he had finally reached him, Harry tried to shoo him away, but the dwarf wouldn’t have it. He grabbed on to Harry’s schoolbag as he tried to make another run for it, causing it to rip open, and spilling its contents upon the floor.

Harry hurriedly picked up his belongings, which were now covered in black ink from a smashed bottle as the dwarf began to sing a song off key. Even worse, Draco Malfoy came around the corner and took notice of Harry and the Dwarf in the middle of the corridor. But before Malfoy was able to insult Harry, Percy, who had also heard the commotion in the hallway came over to see what was holding everyone up.

At that point, Harry tried in vain to run again, but the winged dwarf, sensing his actions, grabbed hold of Harry’s legs and both tumbled to the floor. Ginny simply felt awful for Harry, whose face was redder than her own hair. But her own cheeks began to burn as the dwarf began a familiar song,

His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,

His hair is as dark as a blackboard.

I wish he was mine, he’s really divine,

The hero who conquered the Dark Lord.

“I’m going to kill the twins,”
she thought bitterly, as Percy tried to shoo some of the laughing students away. But her bitterness quickly turned to horror as she watched Malfoy pluck something out of Harry’s pile of ink stained books—a diary—Tom Riddle’s diary.

Sheer panic swept over Ginny as Malfoy showed the book to his thug friends, thinking he had Harry’s own diary. Her mind raced as she tried to comprehend how Harry had obtained the diary in the first place, when Harry asked for the diary back.

“When I’ve had a look,” Malfoy teased, waiving the diary at Harry.

No sooner had Malfoy finished his sentence than Harry pulled out his wand in anger and shouted “Expelliarmus!”, the diary shooting from Malfoys hand, and into Ron’s as he caught it on the other side of the hallway.

Trying desperately to compose herself, Ginny tried to walk towards her classroom, only a few meters away. But Malfoy wouldn’t let her get away that easily. “I don’t think Potter liked your Valentine much!” the bested Malfoy spat at her as she walked past him. Mortified, Ginny ran into the classroom, covering her face with her hands to cover the sheer embarrassment she felt.
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