Secrets

---------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 6: The Mechanics of Defense

---------------------------------------------

All through Sunday Hogwarts buzzed with the strange attack on Mrs. Norris -- who, it was revealed, was not dead, merely Petrified -- and Harry Potter's apparent guilt. Ginny suffered through breakfast before hiding in a dimly-lit corner of the library, scratching away at her Herbology assignment. Four feet was nothing. She avoided everyone so successfully that her paper was over five feet by dinner, and the annotations she added in the evening brought it to six and a half even.

Tom politely refrained from commenting on this burst of effort.

Monday morning Ginny gritted her teeth through Double Potions, determinedly not responding to Snape's jibes about the lengths to which the "Great Harry Potter" would go to maintain his fame. The Slytherins were divided between fear of Petrification and pride that someone from their house had got rid of Mrs. Norris. When Ginny demanded that Electra explain this claim, her partner snorted.

"Weasley wants to know about the Heir," she said, turning to Daphne and Ruth. "Should we tell her?"

Daphne faked surprise. "Weasley? God forbid! Let her stew." The Slytherins' laughter grated across Ginny's ears.

History of Magic was no better -- everyone ignored Binns as usual and traded theories on who Harry's enemies might be and how his friends were involved. Ginny felt like beating her head against a wall. She was fairly sure the first years were sensible people, taken one by one, but in a group they had less sense than Colin on his own! Couldn't they see there was no evidence against Harry at all? Why did they have to enjoy accusing him so much? And they kept asking her about Ron as if he had been an evil-minion-in-training from birth.

To make matters worse, Professor Sprout snagged her sleeve during lunch and postponed her first extra Herbology session to Thursday. Ginny smiled and nodded, seething inside. She'd been looking forward to plants and an escape from her housemates all day, and now Sprout snatched it away from her.

She wanted nothing more than to pour out her frustration to Tom -- she had only been able to complain about the Potions chapters Snape assigned before the other Gryffindors piled into Binns's classroom and fired questions at her -- but just as she was about to slip up to the girls' rooms, Ron rushed up and caught her shoulder, saying, "Ginny, Ginny--"

"What do you want?"

He flinched slightly at her tone. "Ginny, are you all right? It's been mad -- I looked for you yesterday but you weren't anywhere."

Oh, not now. "I was in the library," said Ginny. "Everyone was going on and on about everything, saying all sorts of horrible things about Harry and you and Hermione, and laughing about Mrs. Norris, and asking me what I thought about it, and -- and I had to get away."

"Listen, you know we had nothing to do with it!" said Ron.

Ginny glared at him. "Of course I know that! I just couldn't listen anymore, they were being so awful. And poor Mrs. Norris..." She blinked rapidly, eyes prickling as she remembered how close she had come to sharing Mrs. Norris's fate. Would everyone have laughed about her too?

"But you haven't really got to know Mrs. Norris," Ron told her bracingly. "Honestly, we're much better off without her."

Better off without her. Mrs. Norris was nasty, but how could he say that? She didn't deserve to be Petrified; she was only a cat...

"Stuff like this doesn't often happen at Hogwarts," continued Ron. "They'll catch the maniac who did it and have him out of here in no time. I just hope he's got time to Petrify Filch before he's expelled."

Ginny blanched. The Heir was probably looking for more victims right now. What if he came after her? She'd been there, after all. She'd seen him, even if she couldn't remember.

"I'm only joking," said Ron hastily, alarmed by her expression. "I don't really want anyone Petrified. Come on, Ginny, this'll be over before you know it."

"I hope so," she said, and gave her brother a wan smile. "I have to read for Potions now."

Ron pulled a sour face. "Potions, ugh -- tough luck, that. See you around." He ambled off towards Harry and Hermione, who were waiting by the portrait hole, isolated by several yards of empty tables and chairs. Ginny frowned at the reminder of people's idiocy.

Shaking her head, she turned back to the stairs, only to hear Percy's voice ring across the room: "Ginny, there you are!"

Ginny counted to ten as he strode towards her. Brothers. Never there when she needed them but now they popped up from the woodwork? Toad-lickers. Filthy, stinking toad-lickers. She needed to be alone. "Hi, Percy," she said, and sat down on the stairs. Obviously she wasn't getting away any time soon.

"Ginny, you have to stop disappearing this way. I owled Mum yesterday, of course, and I couldn't say a word about you since you weren't here," said Percy. "She'll be out of her mind by now."

"Sorry," muttered Ginny. "I was in the library working on my Herbology assignment."

"Alone in the library the day after an attack? Ginny! Don't you ever do anything like that again." Percy paused. "Why were you in the library? You can work perfectly well in the common room, where people are around to keep an eye on you."

"They were saying things about Harry and Ron," said Ginny, "really awful things, so I went away." Pressure built behind her eyes -- she was so tired -- she had to hold it in. Why couldn't Percy just go away?

Percy managed to give the impression of rolling his eyes without actually stooping to such an undignified action. "Other people's behavior, this foolish jumping to conclusions, doesn't excuse foolishness on your part. You ought to have the strength of character to ignore accusations -- even Ron's managing in a worse position than yours, after all. Now pull yourself together. The culprit will be apprehended shortly and Professor Sprout will have her Mandrakes ready to cure Mrs. Norris in the spring."

Ginny felt tears prickling her eyes again at the reminder of Mrs. Norris. She'd never thought she could dislike a cat before she'd met Filch's mangy companion, but disagreeable as Mrs. Norris was, there was something touching about her loyalty to the caretaker. The cat had likely been patrolling the halls for Filch when she happened upon the attacker and his paint... and for no more reason than that, she was frozen like stone, good as dead.

Ginny sniffled. She wasn't going to cry.

"Ginny?" Percy's voice softened a trifle. "Nothing will happen to you. Nobody has any reason to attack you. You know that."

But he did! She'd seen him! He must remember her -- red hair was hard to overlook -- and he would come for her. And he might not settle for Petrification next time.

Ginny fought the wail building in her chest. Damn it, she was a Weasley, even if she was a girl and only eleven; she was a Gryffindor and she was not going to cry.

The first sob burst through her choked throat and she threw herself against Percy. "I'm so scared!" she wailed. "Mrs. Norris is Petrified, nobody knows who did it, everyone says Harry did it and I know he didn't do it! Everyone says he's going to be expelled, they say it's all Ron's fault -- he's going to come after me, the Heir is going to come after me, and I'm so scared!"

Percy inched his arm around her shoulders and patted her back with his fingertips. "There, there," he said awkwardly. "Don't cry. You'll be safe -- Ron and Harry will be perfectly fine -- there now -- don't cry..."

Ginny sniffled, wiping her face with her sleeve. Her eyes itched and her nose was dripping. Sticky tear-tracks meandered down her cheeks. "Sorry," she muttered, letting go of her brother.

"That's all right," said Percy. "I don't mind." His tone implied that he minded quite a lot, actually, but Ginny knew he would rather die than admit it.

"I should take you to the hospital wing for some Pepperup potion," he said suddenly. "You're still pale and this upset can't have helped."

"You don't have to bother," said Ginny, alarmed. Please, anything but Pepperup potion; she was developing an irrational dread of that medicine. "I was just going to read for Potions -- maybe take a nap -- I'll be fine."

"A nap? At this hour? That's it -- get up, we're going to see Madam Pomfrey." Percy grabbed her hand and hauled her over to the portrait hole.

"But I'm fine!" protested Ginny, bracing her free arm against the open frame. "I didn't need any potion the last time you did this and I don't need any now either."

Percy gritted his teeth and lifted Ginny out of the common room, in full sight of everyone. Ginny's face burned. "What is it about our family that makes you lot refuse to admit that anything might be wrong?" he asked, as the Fat Lady swung shut behind them. "It isn't the least bit brave, just foolish -- you're all idiots, plain and simple. Now come on."

Madam Pomfrey fully agreed with Percy's assessment, tipped a spoonful of potion into Ginny's mouth, and ordered her to rest. "And don't forget to eat supper or go to sleep early," she added. "Putting up a brave front or completing your work is not nearly as important as keeping your health. I swear you children would never take care of yourselves if I didn't force you to."

Ginny slid through the portrait hole and slunk across the common room, ears smoking and eyes fixed on the carpet. If she never mentioned this afternoon again, maybe no one would remember what had happened. Her one consolation was that Harry had left before her humiliation.

Flopping onto her bed, she pulled the diary from her bag and dropped her school things to the floor. Parchment sheets spilled from the open bag, fluttering over the stone tiles. Ginny eyed them, decided the mess was too irritating to ignore, and rolled to her feet. She gathered her scattered pages, stacked them in a neat pile, and weighted the stack with Bathilda Bagshot's ten-pound monstrosity, A History of Magic.

Mum's training satisfied, Ginny tucked her hair behind her ears and opened the diary. "Dear Tom," she wrote, "today's been just awful. Professor Sprout postponed my Herbology session and everyone's talking about Hallowe'en, saying Harry attacked Mrs. Norris and he's the Heir, whatever that means. I wanted to get away and talk to you, but Ron came and stuck his nose in. He thinks Petrifying people is a joke! And that Mrs. Norris deserved it!

"After he left, Percy jumped down my throat about being in the library yesterday. He said it's dangerous to be alone even though the Heir has no reason to come after me -- except he does have a reason, Tom! I was alone all of yesterday. What if he'd come for me? I tried not to, but I cried on Percy."

Ginny scowled, remembering what had happened next. "And then, instead of letting me alone, he dragged me off for more Pepperup potion even though I was fine. He picked me up and carried me out through the portrait hole! I can't believe he did that -- it was the most embarrassing moment in my life. I hate that everyone can push me around like that."

"I'm sorry to hear you've had such an unpleasant day, Virginia," wrote Tom. "As your unofficial brother, I promise not to treat you as badly as your blood family -- for one thing, I'm unable to pull you through doorways -- but Percy did make a valid point. I don't want you hiding in out of the way corners until the Heir is captured."

Ginny sighed. "Oh all right. Staying near idiots is better than being Petrified." She shivered briefly at the thought of a dark shadow falling over her and a slow, chilling stiffness creeping through her body. Pushing the image from her mind, she bent back to the page. "Say, Tom, do you know anything about a Chamber of Secrets or an Heir? The Slytherins were awfully smug about it in Potions; they kept saying only someone from their house could be clever enough to knock off Mrs. Norris."

Tom paused, a thoughtful air seeping from the pages. "There is a legend in Slytherin house," he wrote eventually, "that when Salazar Slytherin was chased from Hogwarts, he left a guardian beast in a hidden chamber. Only his heir could find and open this chamber. What the beast was, why Slytherin left it, and who his heir would be -- these are unknown. One assumes this mysterious 'Heir' would be in Slytherin house, however."

"So someone in Slytherin found the chamber and let the beast out?" asked Ginny.

"It seems likely."

"Creepy. I hope the professors find him soon." She would not think about being Petrified or killed. She would not.

"I'm sure they will," wrote Tom. "Now, you said before that you hate being pushed around with no way to protect yourself, correct?"

"Yeah. Just because my brothers know more magic than I do and they're bigger than I am. I hate it."

"I offered earlier to teach you some spells outside the normal curriculum. Would you like me to fulfill that offer? I know many spells that would allow you to protect yourself, or to strike your enemies before they strike you."

A smile stretched across Ginny's face. "You'd teach me spells like that? I'd love that! And then I can finally get back at Daphne in Potions!"

"Of course I'd teach you; I wouldn't have offered if I weren't willing." Tom's translucent smile flashed like quicksilver at the edge of her eyes. "I always take care of anyone I like and trust. I'm glad you're willing to accept my help."

Ginny frowned at the tinge of melancholy that hung in Tom's words. "Did someone turn you away because you tried to help? Because that's awful."

Tom paused for nearly half a minute before answering; Ginny had nearly touched quill to paper again before words swam up through the pages. "Do you remember what I told you of Rose Winterbourne, in September?"

"Yes," replied Ginny, puzzled. "She was in Ravenclaw and she was with you for a little, but she was only using you to make someone else jealous. Right?"

"Yes. There might have been a time when she saw me as a person rather than a tool, but she would never let me do anything for her or help her in any way. I was always beneath her." Tom slowed, forming his words letter by letter rather than all in a piece. "It is painful to feel unwanted by one you love. I tried to show that I was worthy of her consideration, but she rejected me. I was a halfblood, an orphan raised by Muggles, with no connections in the wizarding world. When I finally confessed my love, she laughed and told me that my attentions had brought her to Edward Peterson's eye, and she therefore had no more need to dirty herself with my company."

Ginny gasped in sympathetic horror.

"I began creating this diary shortly thereafter, partly so I could sort through my feelings -- one has to put a great deal of oneself into a construct like this -- and partly to provide others with a friend so they would not, perhaps, rush so far down foolish paths as I had."

"Tom! I can't believe it -- she laughed at you and said you were dirty? After you told her you loved her! How can anyone be that cruel?" Ginny's quill dug into the page, scoring her letters deeply into the aging paper.

"Much though I wish otherwise, what I told you is true. I don't, however, believe Rose was intentionally cruel. She simply saw me as a useful distraction and discarded me when I had served my purpose. Her betrayal was a result of her upbringing; I cannot truly blame her for not seeing past her prejudice. I was raised among Muggles, which left me at a severe disadvantage in the wizarding world, and made many of my thoughts alien to her."

Ginny kicked her mattress, wishing she had something useless to throw and break against the wall. "I hate it that we can't all get along," she wrote. "I hate it. We have to hide from Muggles because they'd want magic and we can't give it to them, but that means Muggle-borns don't know anything about magic and lets everyone else pick on them. And then everyone thinks Muggles are worthless because they don't have magic and it's so easy to fool them, which means people pick on Muggle-borns even more. And we get whole layers of blood purity, plus all the class nonsense, mixed into it all -- I hate it." She kicked the bed again, making the springs creak in protest.

"Just because you didn't fit, she acted as if you weren't human. And she didn't even care. She didn't even notice. I bet the Heir of Slytherin is like that. Anyone who attacks defenseless cats has to be heartless." She paused, then added, "Even if the cat is Mrs. Norris," just to be fair.

Tom paused before responding. "Nothing in life is ever as straightforward as we might wish, Virginia, but we keep trying. One must have a goal for which to strive. Perhaps you can work to solve the problems of integrating Muggle-born children into our world. I, at present, am working to escape this diary -- yes, I remember your command." Tom's quicksilver smile flashed again in the corner of her eye, and a faint breath seemed to stir wisps of her hair.

"In any case," he continued, "before I can teach you extra spells, you should read for Potions unless you want to be unprepared before Snape. Please humor Percy and stay in Gryffindor Tower; I'm sure you can work adequately here."

"I promise to be good, Tom," wrote Ginny, fighting a smile. "I'll show Snape next week, and with your help I can make sure Daphne stays out of it." She closed the cover on her fading words, slipped the diary under her pillow, and fished her copy of Magical Draughts and Potions from her dresser.

Arsenius Jigger was a dreadfully stuffy writer but he had a genius for organizing reactions by ingredients, brewing conditions, and end products -- and if you paid attention to him, Snape's lessons were easy. Snape expected students to derive general principles from specific potions, which was nearly impossible -- Ginny suspected he enjoyed setting everyone but the Slytherins up for failure -- but Jigger explained the principles first. He had saved her from several narrow squeaks already. Ginny smiled, pressed back the pages, and buried herself in chapter seven.

---------------------------------------------

Tuesday failed to break the tension hovering over the school, and despite an enjoyable Herbology lesson, Ginny's mood darkened steadily, fed by constant reminders of Hallowe'en. Wednesday morning she woke, tired and grumpy, from another dream of the princess; the blasted dream figment had spent hours hunting for enemies since a dragon wasn't much good without a target. At least she hadn't sleepwalked this time, thought Ginny. That would have been entirely too dangerous with the Heir still at large.

Listening to Lockhart at eight in the morning soon ruined what little cheer she'd gathered. The idiot rambled on about the various mysteries he'd solved and how naturally he'd find the Heir in no time, not to worry! He bestowed a blinding smile on the Gryffindors. Susan, Jia-li, Gwen, and Colin smiled back; Apple scowled; and the boys muttered amongst themselves. Ginny clenched her hands under her desk until the lesson dragged to an end.

Professor McGonagall frowned as the Gryffindors pushed into the Transfiguration classroom. "This is a classroom, not a Quidditch match," she said after two unsuccessful attempts to begin her lesson. She rapped her wand sharply against Susan's desk. "Miss Ward, stop talking and pay attention. That applies to the rest of you as well."

The lesson -- turning pebbles into buttons -- went badly. Only Apple managed more than one hole in her pebble, and even she couldn't change her button into anything other than stone. Professor McGonagall called them off ten minutes early, assigned two feet on the differences between changes of shape and changes of composition, shooed them into the corridor, and nearly slammed the door behind them.

The Gryffindors looked askance at each other. "Now what?" asked Susan.

"It's too early for lunch," said Eugene. "Let's go to the library and work on the essay."

"Work now? You're as bad as Apple," said Jasper, grinning. Apple sighed. Ginny concealed a tiny smile; it was far less than the girl deserved.

"No, he's right," said Danny unexpectedly. "We really should go to the library -- but not for Transfiguration -- to find out about the Chamber of Secrets -- what might be in it."

"I looked yesterday," said Apple, before anyone else could respond. "There are no references to a Chamber of Secrets in any of the standard histories or folktale collections, and all the copies of Hogwarts: A History are checked out. Unless one of you is hiding a copy...?" She cast a speculative glance at her housemates.

"Er, my mother bought me one when I got my letter," said Jia-li, flushing a delicate pink as she glanced at Danny. "I think it's at the bottom of my trunk."

"Great!" said Danny. "Let's go back to the common room -- see what it says."

The first years hurried back to Gryffindor tower, Ginny trailing behind. She didn't want to associate with the others, but she very much wanted information about the Chamber of Secrets -- anything that might help her avoid the mysterious Heir.

Jia-li fetched her book and handed it to Apple, who flicked rapidly through the index. "Not under 'secrets,'" she mumbled. "'Chamber,' then? Aha! 'See also, Slytherin, Salazar; Founders, legends of; Muggle-born wizards, education of, disputes over.' Interesting."

"Who cares what the cross-listings are!" said Danny. "Find what it actually says."

"Yeah, Apple, get on with it," added Susan, hitching her chair closer to the other first years.

"Oh, hush," snapped Apple, flicking toward the front of the massive book. "You're all unspeakably thick -- the cross-listings are a source of information themselves. We now know that the Chamber of Secrets has to do with the Founders, specifically Slytherin, and also with educating Muggle-born wizards and witches."

"Snob," muttered Susan to Danny, just loud enough so that Apple would overhear.

Apple glared at her. "You should pay attention. You're Muggle-born, so this is particularly important for you. But I've found it." She paused, skimming over the page. "It's tedious; I'll summarize. Hogwarts was founded roughly a thousand years ago by two wizards and two witches -- Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff. They created the house system because they valued different characteristics in their students. After a while, they had an argument over whether to admit and teach Muggle-born students. Slytherin, who fought against the inclusion of Muggle-borns, lost the argument and left the school. This is reasonably well-documented."

Apple sucked in a breath and continued. "The Chamber of Secrets is a legend associated with this argument and Slytherin's subsequent departure. Supposedly he left a monster in a hidden chamber within Hogwarts. His heir will release it and purge all Muggle-born students from the school. Versions differ as to whether the beast will simply drive them out, or whether it will--" Apple stopped abruptly and stared at the page, then slowly finished her sentence: "Or whether it will kill them.

"Many wizards have searched for this Chamber over the centuries. Nobody has ever found any sign of it." She lowered the book to her lap, staring thoughtfully at the page. "That's not quite what I was expecting," she said.

Ginny couldn't help but agree. Tom's version of the story hadn't been nearly so unsettling. Then again, his had come from Slytherin and they were against Muggle-borns, so naturally they wouldn't mind the monster so much. They wouldn't have to worry; their precious pure blood ought to protect them.

It ought to protect her, too, really, if she hadn't run into the Heir. Ginny shivered slightly, not sure whether that thought should comfort her. Did she want to be safe when others were in danger through an accident of birth? That wouldn't be very brave.

"Well," said Danny, breaking the silence. "Obviously somebody's found a sign of it now -- he's gone and opened it. Can you imagine -- Harry Potter, the Heir of Slytherin?"

Ginny blinked. Oh, he wasn't. He couldn't be that blind, could he? Harry couldn't have anything to do with Slytherin. He was in Gryffindor!

"Maybe that's why You-Know-Who attacked him," said Gwen, leaning forward. "He didn't want competition and he knew Slytherin's Heir was bound to be a Dark wizard."

"Rubbish," said Apple, cutting across Colin's indignant protest. "We don't know the Chamber's been opened, or if it even exists, which I find unlikely since no one has found it in over a thousand years. I think this is all a joke in extremely bad taste, and we only play into the perpetrator's hands by believing and fearing this nonsense."

"Oh, you shut it!" shouted Susan. "You never believe anything. You don't believe in Professor Lockhart, you don't believe in the Chamber of Secrets, you always sit off by yourself and think you're so much better than us. Dry up!"

"I didn't believe you when you said Mrs. Norris was dead, either, and I was right, wasn't I?" said Apple calmly. Susan glowered. Apple snapped the book shut and handed it to Jia-li. "Fine. You can reach whatever unjustified conclusions you want. I'm going to start my Transfiguration work." She stalked off toward the girls' dormitories, her plait switching behind her like the tail of an irritated cat.

"Good riddance!" said Jasper. Several people laughed nervously.

Ginny stared at the darkened staircase, tuning out the subsequent conversation, and wondered whether she should be glad of Apple's backhanded support. On the one hand, at least somebody wasn't caught up in the general hysteria. On the other, she didn't believe the danger was real, she was unpopular and nobody would listen to her, and, well, she was Apple, whom Ginny disliked on principle.

Ginny sighed and let the conversation fade back into her awareness. "--if he lets it into Gryffindor tower?" Jia-li was saying. "He knows the password!"

"We could keep watch," suggested Eugene.

Gwen shook her head. "Won't work -- we can't stay up all night, and what spells do we know anyway?"

"We're all going to die!" wailed Jia-li.

Colin looked torn between disgust and excitement. "Harry wouldn't do anything like that!" he said. "He's not a Dark wizard, he just isn't."

"Don't be thick, Colin," said Jasper. "Who else could have done it? He's obviously got Dark powers! We have to watch out or he'll be after us."

Ginny couldn't restrain herself any longer. "Don't you think," she snapped, "that if he were responsible, he would have done something by now? Why give you time to work out ways to defend yourselves if he is after you? Which he isn't! And nobody can be a Dark wizard as a baby. That's just stupid. People aren't born evil."

"Says you," muttered Susan.

Ginny glared at her and pushed on. "Besides, he stayed at my house this summer and there is nothing strange or evil about him. He's my brother's best friend and you all shut up about this!"

She shot to her feet. "Apple's right -- you're all a bunch of idiots." She stomped toward the staircase, not caring anymore that Apple was upstairs in the bedroom. Cold or not, Daphne's cousin or not, at least she wasn't a toad-licking, scum-sucking, thick-headed, blithering idiot.

Apple looked up from her Transfiguration book as Ginny slammed the bedroom door. "I take it they haven't come to their senses?" she asked.

"Toad-licking, blind-as-a-bat idiots!" shouted Ginny. "No, they bloody well haven't. I hate them." She flung herself onto her bed and seized handfuls of her bedcovers, wringing them tight. "Why are they so stupid?"

"Sometimes," said Apple mildly, "people get hold of an idea and won't let it go, no matter what evidence presents itself to the contrary. People like to have a scapegoat, and people resent fame. Harry Potter was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time and thereby made himself a convenient target."

Ginny frowned at her pillow. "They're all toad-lickers," she said. "And they don't even realize they're talking about my brother, too. Ron's not evil!"

Apple paused as if considering her words. "Right now, I doubt they're thinking very deeply about their reactions," she said eventually. "They may be calmer in a few days." She paused again and her dark eyes bored into Ginny. "You should realize, though, that you haven't helped your case by pushing everyone away these past months. They don't want to agree with you, even if they think you might be right."

"Then they're being even more stupid," said Ginny. She rolled upright and grabbed her bag from the floor. "I'm going to the library, to work on Transfiguration."

"Would you like me to come along?" asked Apple.

"No," said Ginny firmly. "I'll be fine."

Apple shrugged. "Suit yourself."

Ginny walked stonily past the other first years in the common room, nursing her anger all the way to the library. She couldn't concentrate on her work all afternoon and finally gave up, returning to the common room to drop off her bag before dinner. She trailed after the other first years on their way through the corridors toward the Great Hall.

Suddenly Harry, Ron, and Hermione appeared from around a corner, pushing through the crowd towards Gryffindor tower. Naturally Colin saw them as well. "Hiya, Harry!" he cried.

Ginny ducked behind Gwen, hoping to avoid her brother's notice.

"Hullo, Colin," said Harry, not turning toward the smaller boy. Good, thought Ginny, don't pay any attention to that twit.

"Harry -- Harry -- a boy in my class has been saying you're--" Colin started, before Jasper shoved him in the back and the first years hurried on toward the Great Hall. "See you, Harry!" squeaked Colin, before they turned the corner.

Ginny, hugging the walls, was better able to resist the flow of people, and saw Harry's expression turn first upset and then closed-off. Her heart sank. Colin was such an idiotic twit! He hadn't done a thing to support Harry -- he'd just made him more upset than before. She slipped forward through the crowd, seething, and wondered if she could spill something with thick gravy on Colin during dinner. If she were careful, Apple would never notice.

She wished everyone would open their eyes and see how stupid they were acting.

---------------------------------------------

A chance to tip gravy onto Colin did not arise, leaving Ginny to stew in her thoughts. Everyone was acting blind, she thought, but was she any better? She'd been running away, hiding from fear of the Heir. Danny had been right to say they should learn about the Chamber of Secrets. Knowledge was power. She needed to go to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom and try to jog her memory.

Excusing herself early, she walked slowly up the front stairs to the first floor, looked around the landing, and sighed. The stairs had moved from Myrtle's corridor to the other side of the stairwell, leaving her to trudge through almost half the first floor toward the out-of-order bathroom. Ginny wasn't quite sure whether she minded; she really didn't want to see the blood-red letters that still decorated the wall despite Filch's efforts to scrub them away. She ought to look around, though. She also ought to ask Myrtle if she'd noticed anything -- though that wasn't likely, come to think of it -- she'd probably been at Nearly Headless Nick's party with all the other ghosts. Ginny frowned. Perhaps she hadn't been invited? It was awful to hope that a ghost was disliked, but she couldn't help hoping anyway.

The corridor was deserted -- everyone was still in the Great Hall -- and Ginny got her first uninterrupted look at the site of her nightmares. The red message shone in the torchlight, painted on the wall across from the bathroom door, between two tall, multi-paned windows. A chair stood at the base of the wall -- Filch had been keeping guard, convinced that Harry would return to the scene of his crime and somehow betray his guilt. Ginny shivered.

Nothing about the wall triggered any memory, just a sense of unease. She turned slowly, facing the bathroom. Moaning Myrtle was the last person she wanted to deal with now -- she traveled through the bathroom plumbing and had an unpleasant habit of popping up in occupied stalls, desperate for company -- but she was not about to run away. Ginny gritted her teeth and reached for the brass doorknob.

"I wish people would stop talking behind my back!" a peevish voice said from the other side of the door. "I do have feelings, you know, even if I am dead--"

"Myrtle, no one wants to upset you," said another voice. Hermione. Ginny froze, hand still on the knob, straining to hear. "Harry only--"

"No one wants to upset me! That's a good one!" howled the first voice, which Ginny now recognized as Myrtle. "My life was nothing but misery at this place and now people come along ruining my death!"

"We wanted to ask you if you've seen anything funny lately," said Hermione quickly, interrupting Myrtle's tirade. "Because a cat was attacked right outside your front door on Hallowe'en."

"Did you see anyone near here that night?" asked a male voice. Harry. Ginny froze further. Of course they'd had the same idea she did. They wanted to find the Heir. She couldn't let them find her, but she needed to know what Myrtle had seen... She waited, ready to flee at a moment's notice.

"I wasn't paying attention," said Myrtle. "Peeves upset me so much I came in here and tried to kill myself. Then, of course, I remembered that I'm -- that I'm--"

"Already dead?" asked Ron.

Ginny winced, knowing Myrtle's likely reaction to that.

Myrtle gave a screeching sob, followed by a loud splash and trickle of water. Dove into the toilet, most likely, thought Ginny. Myrtle always was overdramatic. Muffled sobs, distorted by the toilet and the tiled walls, drifted outward. Ginny released the doorknob and darted down the corridor, into the nook behind a convenient suit of armor. It creaked in surprise, turning to look at her and loosening its sword.

Ginny flinched in shock; the armor was enchanted! "Please, pretend I'm not here!" she whispered. "I'm not doing anything wrong, really, I promise. And I'll -- I'll come back and polish you tomorrow!"

The armor nodded with grave dignity and resumed its guard position, not a moment too soon, as the bathroom door swung open. Harry, Ron, and Hermione emerged, expressions ranging from disgruntled to dejected, and Ginny wondered what they'd been talking about before she'd arrived.

Suddenly a loud voice cut through the heavy air. "RON!"

The trio jumped and Ginny peeked from behind the armor, convinced the world was out to give her a heart attack. Percy stood at the head of the front stairs, which had switched back across the stairwell again, outraged shock painted across his face.

"That's a girls' bathroom!" he gasped. "What were you--?"

"Just having a look around," said Ron, shrugging. "Clues, you know."

Ginny winced again. For goodness' sake, Ron ought to know how Percy would react to that. Was he trying to upset everyone?

Percy swelled up like Mum, face flushing nearly purple. "Get away from there!" he shouted, striding toward the trio and flapping his arms. "Don't you care what this looks like? Coming back here while everyone's at dinner--"

"Why shouldn't we be here?" interrupted Ron, standing his ground and glaring at Percy. Ginny cheered silently. "Listen, we never laid a finger on that cat!"

"That's what I told Ginny," said Percy, matching Ron's glare, "but she still seems to think you're going to be expelled. I've never seen her so upset, crying her eyes out -- you might think of her -- all the first years are thoroughly overexcited by this business--"

What? Crying her eyes out? Bloody Percy -- that was private. Even if she had done it in the common room.

"You don't care about Ginny," said Ron, ears reddening. "You're just worried I'm going to mess up your chances of being Head Boy!"

"Five points from Gryffindor," said Percy, face fixed in a scowl and neck flushing scarlet. "And I hope it teaches you a lesson! No more detective work, or I'll write to Mum!" He strode back toward the staircase, hand clenched over his prefect badge.

Ginny scowled after him. Imagine, lumping her in with all those other twits! And she was not worried that Ron was going to be expelled -- she knew perfectly well he hadn't done it -- she just hated that everyone else thought he and Harry were evil.

Still, see if she said anything nice to him for a while! Ron had some nerve, turning her into an argument with Percy. Couldn't they see this was more important than stupid prefects and Head Boys? Couldn't he see that she was upset? And of course, they threatened each other with Mum. Couldn't do anything because it was right or because they cared about anyone, no, they only did it because they were scared of Mum. Toad-lickers.

She peeked around the suit of armor again and noticed that the others had left. "Thanks," she said to the armor, walking around to the front and patting its foot. The inscription on its pedestal read 'The armor of Sir Vladislav Pitula, Wizard and Sworn Brother of the Order of Teutonic Knights, worn during the Battle of Legnica in 1241, where he fell defending Europe from the Mongols.' He must have been awfully brave, thought Ginny. She wondered if she would have fought as well as he had, to defend his home and people. Then she winced, realizing she'd have to break her promise -- tomorrow was her first session with Professor Sprout.

"Sir Vladislav?" she began tentatively, "I can't actually come tomorrow -- I have Herbology work -- but I'll come Friday instead. Is that okay?"

The armor gazed at her for a long moment, then nodded gravely.

Ginny turned to leave, but paused as a thought occurred to her. "Sir Vladislav, did you see what happened on Hallowe'en when Mrs. Norris was Petrified?"

The armor shook its head. It pointed at the bathroom door, cupped its gauntlets over its earpieces, and then pillowed its gauntlets beside its helmet.

"You were trying to ignore Myrtle so you went to sleep?"

The armor nodded.

Ginny sighed. Enchanted armor slept? Well, she supposed that might be a comfort -- standing eternal guard would get awfully boring -- and it probably wasn't much different from the portraits. "Thanks anyway, Sir Vladislav. I guess I'll just have to find out on my own. Have a good night."

The armor bent with a creak and clash of metal and leather and patted her shoulder. Ginny smiled and walked toward the stairs, heading for Gryffindor Tower and the diary. She had to talk to Tom.

---------------------------------------------

The common room was filling up as people returned from dinner, so Ginny stuffed the diary into her bag and set off for the library. Madam Pince nodded approvingly as she disappeared into the Herbology stacks, and Ginny stifled a giggle. It was good to have people on her side.

She settled herself in a musty armchair with brass upholstery tacks and opened the diary. "Dear Tom," she wrote, "today was awful. After Transfiguration, Danny decided we should look up the Chamber of Secrets, so Apple read about it in Hogwarts: A History and told us what it said. It's a really ugly story -- all about monsters and getting rid of Muggle-borns -- maybe even killing them!

"Then they decided this was just more evidence that Harry's evil. Can't they see he's the last person who'd go around making a monster attack people? Apple told them they were being idiots, but nobody listened. Later Colin tried to talk to Harry and just depressed him. He's a twit."

Ginny paused, loosening her grip before she snapped her quill. "Anyway, after dinner I went to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom -- that's where they found Mrs. Norris -- to ask if she'd seen anything. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were already there, and from what they asked, I think Myrtle hadn't been paying attention -- probably moaning in her toilet. The suit of armor down the corridor didn't see anything either.

"But after they got out of the bathroom, Percy caught them and yelled at them for being in a girls' bathroom and for trying to find out what happened. He said I'm just like the other first years, 'overexcited' or something like that. So Ron said Percy didn't care about me and was just afraid all this would ruin his chances at being Head Boy next year. I can't believe how stupid they are!"

She set the quill aside and shook out her fingers, waiting for Tom's response.

"That sounds like a very trying day, Virginia," wrote Tom. "I'm sorry to hear that your housemates are still jumping to conclusions, and being supported by only Colin and Apple doesn't seem comforting."

Tom paused, seeming to draw a breath. "I hadn't heard that the guardian beast was meant to kill people, though I confess I'm not surprised it's meant to clear Hogwarts of Muggle-born students. Whatever else he was, Salazar Slytherin was certainly an advocate of blood purity and the separation of the magical from the mundane."

Ginny nearly broke in, but Tom's words continued swimming up from the depths of the pages. "He had some justification, however, as one of his students from before the founding of Hogwarts later turned on the wizarding community in the name of Christ and led a Muggle army to destroy Slytherin's home, or such is the story in Slytherin house; it's told as an example of why Muggle-born wizards cannot be trusted. I choose to think of it merely as an example of human failings. We are all capable of terrible things, in the blackest depths of our hearts, much though we prefer to think otherwise."

"That's awfully gloomy," wrote Ginny.

"I did not lead a particularly cheerful life, Virginia. We learn what we are exposed to, and I saw little kindness before I came to Hogwarts."

Ginny bit her lip. "Still, I don't believe people are as awful as you think, Tom. I think we're mostly nice -- well, except for people like You-Know-Who, but I don't understand him at all -- I don't think he could've been human. Anyway, even if somebody attacks you, that's no excuse for trying to get back at anyone connected to him. That's just stupid. It would be like me being nasty to Professor Sprout because Snape is an oily git, just because they're both professors."

"True," wrote Tom after a pause, "but people can't always think so logically and fairly when they are hurt and grieving. Revenge is a powerful impulse, the more so when it has some justification. Even you are not above justified revenge, Virginia -- remember how you spilled pumpkin juice on Daphne?"

Ginny smiled. That was a good memory. "Yeah, that was fun. But that's mostly harmless. I just wanted to get back at her, not get her expelled!"

"I'm not disagreeing, Virginia. I'm simply pointing out that there are similarities between your actions and Slytherin's, though I wouldn't go so far as to say his are also justified, merely that they are understandable. Leaving a dangerous beast among children is never justifiable."

"Right!" wrote Ginny. "And telling people to use it to kill other people, a thousand years after whatever happened to start the problem -- that's horrible. I hope they catch the Heir really soon and expel him, whoever he is."

"And on that note, let us move on to other topics." Ginny nodded, forgetting that Tom couldn't see her. By the time she remembered, he had already continued.

"Virginia, you told me I should work on freeing myself from the diary -- a goal I'm certainly happy to work towards. I've remembered a spell that may be of some help. It requires a short ritual, best carried out in privacy. Are you willing to help?"

"Of course! How soon can we do it?"

Tom seemed slightly taken aback at her quick response. "Perhaps tomorrow evening? I need to check my memory; it wouldn't do to twist a spell this powerful."

"Oh, I can't tomorrow! I have my first session with Professor Sprout." Ginny scowled. That was twice she'd had to put something off because of the stupid extra-curricular work, which ought to have been on Monday anyway. It had better be worth it. "How about Friday? I'll be near Moaning Myrtle's bathroom anyway -- I promised to polish Sir Vladislav's armor -- and I'm sure I can make Myrtle go away."

"Wonderful. And now it's growing late; you should return to Gryffindor tower instead of wandering around the library alone. You gave your word not to hide in out of the way corners."

"Meanie. I don't know why I wanted you as a brother -- you're as bad as Percy. I must have been out of my mind."

"I am never appreciated." An air of weariness and suffering seeped from the diary, stirring the top page ever so slightly.

"Stop being so melodramatic," wrote Ginny, grinning.

"Alas, for my lady disapproves! Be off with you, Virginia. Tell me when you reach the tower safely, and then go to sleep. Princesses need their rest before Astronomy, after all."

"Toad-licker. I'm not a princess. I just dream about one. Good night, Tom."

"Good night, Virginia."

Ginny slipped the diary back into her bag and walked out of the library, nodding at Madam Pince. The corridors were mostly empty, dimly lit by torches, and the shadows jumped and flickered on the walls. Ginny peered carefully down each side corridor as she passed, skirting open doorways and keeping a tight grip on her wand. She felt slightly foolish when she reached the portrait hole with no incident, but as Sarah Peasegood had always said, she wasn't paranoid if the Heir really was out to get her, and she was sure he was.

"Happenstance," she said to the Fat Lady.

"That's right, dear," said the Fat Lady. "You have your wand out, I see -- very sensible of you. But next time I'd advise getting back a bit earlier." She swung open, letting Ginny into the warmth and safety of the common room.

---------------------------------------------

After dinner Thursday, Ginny walked nervously out to the greenhouses. Regardless of what she was missing for this, she was eager to find out what Professor Sprout's extra sessions were like -- but she had no idea what to expect.

Warm light spilled from Greenhouse One, inviting her in from the chilly evening. Students milled around the center courtyard, waiting for Professor Sprout. Ginny spotted Katie Bell, one of the Gryffindor chasers, as well as a few older students she vaguely recognized as sixth and seventh year Gryffindors, but without their school robes it was difficult to place anyone else. Neville Longbottom stood off to the side, chatting with an unfamiliar black-haired girl and a Hufflepuff boy from Ginny's year. Ginny made her way over to them.

"Hi, Ginny!" said Neville, looking up and flushing. "Professor Sprout said you'd be here tonight but I forgot to look for you. Sorry."

"That's all right, I don't mind," said Ginny. She turned to the other boy and girl. "I'm Ginny Weasley."

"Queenie Greengrass," said the girl, her wide smile revealing large, square teeth. "So you're the new Gryffindor? That's good -- we have three first years this year. Usually we're lucky to get two people. Brian here came two weeks already," -- she waved at the Hufflepuff boy -- "but Ruth is just starting, whenever she gets here."

"Ruth?" asked Ginny.

"Ruth Gelfand," said Queenie. "She ought to be in your Potions class -- skinny, with curly hair?"

"Oh, her?" said Ginny. "Yeah, I know her." Daphne's thin-faced friend liked Herbology? She hoped they wouldn't have to work together.

Just then Professor Sprout bustled into the greenhouse, escorting Ruth and a gaggle of sixth and seventh years. Ruth shrugged out from under Sprout's arm and edged over to Ginny's group while Sprout gathered the older students and led them to her desk.

"Hi, Queenie," said Ruth. "Thanks for telling me about the shortcut."

Queenie smiled widely. "No worries. I would have waited to point out the false tiles in the corridor, but I had to fetch Neville. We can't have him getting lost with the Heir still around."

Neville flushed and Ginny frowned. Was Queenie a Slytherin too? She was being nice to Neville, but she'd also insulted him -- then again, if even half of what Ron had told her was true, Neville was a bit hopeless.

"Hello everyone!" said Professor Sprout, standing at the front of the courtyard and beaming. "Let's all welcome two new students to Evening Herbology -- Ruth Gelfand of Slytherin and Virginia Weasley of Gryffindor. Please make them feel at home."

The students nodded and murmured agreement. Queenie nudged Ruth and Ginny and grinned. "See? We're all friends here. Except for some of the NEWT students, but then, they have to come. The rest of us are here by choice."

Ginny nodded despite herself.

Sprout handed instruction parchments to the NEWT students and directed them to Greenhouse Three. As they filed out, she began sorting through the other students, placing them in pairs or small groups and assigning various tasks.

"Let me see, let me see," she mumbled, looking at Ginny's group. "Queenie, please go to Greenhouse Two and pluck the fruit from the Wheezing Puffberry -- only take every other one on a stem -- and place them in the glass jar on my desk. Neville, please comb the Siren's Hair -- it's in the tank in the back corner -- and make sure it has enough fish."

She smiled at the three first years. "Miss Gelfand, Miss Weasley, let me explain how this works. We all do various jobs around the greenhouses, and then meet up afterward. Generally I like to have one of the older students show new people around for a few evenings, before I think you're ready to work on your own. So would you rather work with Neville or Queenie tonight? Brian, you choose too," she added.

Ginny and Ruth glanced uneasily at each other. "I'll work with Neville," said Ginny hastily.

"Fine. I'll stay with Queenie," answered Ruth.

"Good, good!" said Sprout. "Brian?"

Brian looked from Ginny to Ruth, rubbing his neck as Ginny frowned at him. "I think I'll go with Queenie tonight," he said.

"There we are, then," said Sprout. "Supplies are in the usual place and I'll be in Greenhouse Three if you need me. Please remember to light your wands and walk in pairs if you leave the building; we don't need any unfortunate incidents."

Ginny flinched. Beside her Neville twitched, Brian looked worried, and Ruth shivered.

Queenie frowned and patted Ruth on the shoulder. "Come on, you two," she said. "Brian, get three lined baskets. Ruth, three pairs of gloves. Professor, are we allowed to use a soothing potion on the Puffberry?"

"Certainly, dear, but only a little -- we don't want it diluting the sap," said Sprout, and she bustled out the door. Brian and the Slytherins banged around Sprout's desk and the supply cabinets for a minute before following Sprout out into the darkness. Neville seemed to be waiting for them to leave.

"So how do we comb Siren's Hair?" asked Ginny as they walked toward Sprout's desk.

"We have combs with a No-Stick Charm, so they won't break the fronds," said Neville, pulling two wide-toothed combs out of a flowerpot and handing them to Ginny. "Erm. You'll probably get wet so you ought to roll up your sleeves. Do you want gloves? Professor Sprout has some with waterproofing charms and some Muggle ones, but they make your hands itch."

Ginny shrugged. "I'll take the rubber gloves; waterproofing charms make my fingers fall asleep." She fished a pair from a cardboard box and pulled them on. They were much smaller than the yellow monstrosities that Sarah Peasegood's mother had kept around her house; these were a semi-transparent white and nearly skintight.

"Are you sure these are waterproof?" she asked, staring at the strange material.

"More or less. Come on." Neville led Ginny to the tanks and pointed out some of the more interesting aqueous plants. Ginny nodded politely, and privately wondered how plants with such varied and useful magical properties could all look like slimy, dirty green weeds. The Emperor's Crown was the only really interesting one, consisting of a maroon jelly-like blob with one long, slender stem that stretched to the surface of the tank, capped by a dense cluster of purple and gold flowers that rested on a ring of spiky leaves. Ginny thought it would be quite pretty if you couldn't see the blobby bit underwater.

Then they reached the Siren's Hair, and Ginny decided there were two interesting water plants; the Siren's Hair was anything but ugly. Long, delicate fronds with tiny, feathery leaves bent and swayed in the slow-moving currents of the tank. As they moved, the changing angles of light struck iridescent shimmers from their pale, silvery stems and gold-green leaves.

"It's gorgeous," murmured Ginny, and then blinked as her breath caused tiny waves to splash her nose. When had she bent so close to the water?

"You have to be careful about watching too closely or it tries to pull you in," said Neville as Ginny straightened. "It uses a low-level glamour -- Professor Sprout says it's very useful in illusion, beauty, and love potions."

"I can see that." Ginny took a comb and copied Neville as he carefully detangled the shimmering fronds, picking out bits of dirt, wood, and other plants that had caught in the leaves. Suddenly something pricked her finger. "Ouch!" She pulled off her glove and glared at her bleeding hand.

"Are you all right, Ginny?" asked Neville.

"Something stuck me," said Ginny. She peered at her glove. "Here. It was... a fishbone?"

Neville nodded. "That's probably from its last meal. Siren's Hair is a messy eater -- that's why we have to comb it."

"It's carnivorous?" Ginny blinked. That beautiful plant ate fish? Wait, Sprout had mentioned fish to Neville...

"Yes, we feed it minnows." Neville turned back to his work, satisfied that nothing was wrong.

"Oh."

Ginny combed more carefully, searching for more of the tiny, semi-translucent bones. Now that she knew what to look for, they seemed to be everywhere despite the camouflage of silver stems and waving leaves.

"Er, Neville? Do Muggles ever get caught by Siren's Hair?" she asked, trying to take her mind off the murdered fish.

Neville scratched his head. "I don't think so. They tend to block magic out, so they probably think it's just a pretty weed." He sighed. "You have no idea how happy my grandmother was that I almost fell into a stream the first time I saw Siren's Hair. Maybe I'm almost a Squib, but not quite."

Ginny stopped combing and looked up at him. "But you're at Hogwarts -- of course you're not a Squib."

"Yes, but I never do anything right," said Neville miserably. "People try to be nice but I can tell. And what if the Heir decides to go after Squibs as well as Muggle-born students? What if he comes for me? Everyone thinks Filch is a Squib and look what happened to Mrs. Norris!"

"He won't come after you. The professors will catch him, and anyway Mrs. Norris will be fine when Sprout finishes growing the Mandrakes for the Restorative Draught," said Ginny, trying hard not to think about the Heir planning his next attack. What was Neville worried about? She was the one in danger!

"I hope you're right," said Neville, looking glum.

Ginny frowned and returned to her combing. After another twenty minutes they had finished the whole patch and Neville reached under the tank for a covered bucket.

"Do you want to feed it?" Neville held the bucket out toward Ginny.

Ginny took it awkwardly and rested it on the edge of the tank. "Er, okay. What do I do?"

"There's a net in the bucket. Catch a fish, hold it in your hand, and let it go in a clump of the Siren's Hair," said Neville. "It will do the rest -- just pull your hand out quickly."

Ginny chased the large minnows around the bucket for nearly a minute before she managed to trap one in the net. It thrashed in her hand, feeling simultaneously rough and slimy. Ginny grimaced, stuck her hand into the gold-and-silver fronds, and released the minnow. Neville turned away, looking across the greenhouse at the students watering the herbs.

Almost before Ginny pulled back her hand, the gently waving fronds brushed against the minnow, twitched, and rolled down to their roots like released springs, trapping the helpless minnow in a cocoon of leaves. Without the screen of leaves, Ginny could see the small pocket of tough root-like material from which the fronds sprouted and into which they now deposited the minnow. The pocket snapped shut as the fronds unrolled, and within seconds there was no sign of either the pocket or the doomed minnow; the shimmering fronds waved innocently in the water, once again dancing in the refracted light.

"That's creepy," said Ginny, staring at the Siren's Hair. "That's really creepy. It's so pretty -- why is it like that?"

Neville shrugged. "It just is, I suppose." He stuck his hands into the water, carefully parting the fronds and studying the unfilled digestive pockets. "Give it three or four more minnows, and then we'll make sure the fronds aren't caught. If the pockets don't close, sometimes the minnows escape -- that's not good for the tanks."

"Fine." Ginny fed the Siren's Hair another four minnows, watching in guilty fascination as the plant snapped up the helpless fish. As she put the bucket behind the tank, Neville gently tugged a few stray leaves out from the full digestive pockets and let them wave freely. Ginny wondered at his resigned expression, but he quickly finished and walked toward Sprout's desk, carrying the combs in his wet gloves.

"Now what?" she asked, as she stripped off her gloves and followed him.

"Well, we should tell Professor Sprout we've finished. Then you can go back to the tower, help someone else, or wait 'til the NEWT students finish their lesson. Professor Sprout usually has the house elves bring biscuits and drinks for everyone," said Neville.

"That's awfully nice of her."

"Yes. Professor Sprout is great." Neville paused. "I have to tell her we're finished. Would... would you come with me?"

Ginny nodded. "Yeah." She pulled her wand from her bag, while Neville took his from his pocket.

"Lumos," they whispered at the door, and hurried across the darkened lawn to Greenhouse Three. Professor Sprout was advising the NEWT students as they did something complicated with the roots of a spiky, green-and-purple plant. She looked up as the door latched.

"You've finished?" she asked, walking over to Neville and Ginny. "Lovely! Did it eat well, Neville?"

"Five minnows," said Neville.

"Good, good. Let me see..." Professor Sprout hummed absently, tapping her fingers against her cheek. "Ah. You two can deadhead the rosebushes in Greenhouse Two. Watch out for the whip stems on the Tentacula Rose. Run along!" She made little shooing motions, then turned back to the NEWT students.

Deadheading roses was easy work -- Ginny had years of practice from Mum's garden and Neville showed surprising coordination -- and she and Neville talked while they worked. She learned that his grandmother kept vast banks of flowers, all mashed together with no concern for proper growing conditions, and charmed them into blooming year-round. Neville had spent his summer holidays transplanting flowers into suitable locations so they wouldn't need fertilizing charms and potions so often. He wasn't able to do anything about his grandmother's lack of color sense, however. In return, Ginny told him about helping Mum manage a vegetable garden, and how to handle gnome infestations. (Well, how to handle them in theory -- Dad was too soft to set proper gnome-wards.)

After half an hour, Professor Sprout called them back to Greenhouse One where the house elves had set up plates of biscuits, a small chocolate cake, and several pitchers of pumpkin juice. Ginny took her biscuits off to the side and watched Neville chat with Queenie, Ruth, and Brian. She couldn't quite bring herself to talk pleasantly with Ruth, and dragging Neville or Brian away from her would be awfully rude. So she sipped her pumpkin juice in silence.

Finally Neville excused himself and walked over to Ginny. "Thanks for waiting," he said. "I don't want to go back to the tower alone."

"I don't either," said Ginny, putting her plate and glass on the table. "I really want them to catch the Heir."

They parted inside the common room, Neville staying downstairs to struggle with his Potions reading and Ginny slipping upstairs to talk with Tom. She closed her bed curtains, lit her wand, and pulled the diary from her bag.

"Dear Tom, the Herbology session was interesting," she wrote. "Neville Longbottom was there, along with Brian Noble-Marx from Hufflepuff and Ruth Gelfand from Slytherin -- Daphne's friend. And there was a Slytherin girl from Harry's year, Queenie Greengrass; she seemed nice, but then again, she was friendly with Ruth. But perhaps she doesn't know what Daphne and Ruth are really like?

"Anyhow, Neville and I combed and fed the Siren's Hair -- it's a water plant that uses a glamour to attract fish, which it eats. It's really pretty, but really creepy too, mostly because you don't expect something nice-looking to be vicious like that. Afterwards we deadheaded roses and had biscuits and pumpkin juice with the other students. Professor Sprout is awfully nice about the whole thing, and I think I'll like doing this even if I didn't get to talk to Neville afterwards -- I didn't want to drag him away from Ruth and Queenie even if Ruth is awful. Besides, that would give a bad impression, and I can't let Ruth get one up on me.

"What do you think, Tom?"

"I think you sound like you had a good evening, Virginia," wrote Tom. "I haven't seen you write quite that quickly when you're not angry in several weeks. My compliments to Professor Sprout!"

Ginny blushed. "Well, I like Herbology!"

"And have I ever tried to dissuade you from your enthusiasm? I'm simply happy that you're happy. I've been worried about you lately, what with the Heir on the loose and the irritations of your brothers. It's comforting to see you enjoying something."

"Thanks, Tom," wrote Ginny. "But did you have to remind me of the Heir? Neville did too, and it spoiled our conversation. He thinks the Heir will go after him because he doesn't have much magic -- he's always saying he's almost a Squib -- but really, he's very good at Herbology and I think he'd do better at everything else if he didn't expect to fail. Ron says he's hopeless in Potions, but then, Snape could put anyone off." She grimaced. "Anyhow, he's worried about the Heir, when really I'm the only one who ought to be afraid! And I couldn't tell him. I hate this -- I wish they'd find out who's behind it all and expel him!"

"Virginia, I know this is hard for you, but you're bearing up remarkably well -- you Gryffindors certainly do know how to deal with difficult situations, I must say. In any case, I'm certain the Headmaster will identify the Heir soon enough, and you will be safe from Petrification. Now, you were up late last night for Astronomy, and tomorrow's Transfiguration lesson will be difficult after your last one. I suggest you get some sleep."

"Oh, all right," scribbled Ginny, sighing. "I realize you're usually right, and you know all about dealing with Hogwarts, but you're not my mother, you know! Good night, Tom."

"Good night, my daughter."

"Tom!"

Silent laughter seeped from the page. "I couldn't resist. I'm sorry, Virginia. But please rest. Remember, you'll need your strength for the spell tomorrow."

Oh! She'd almost forgotten that tomorrow she would help Tom start getting free of the diary. "Of course! Good night, Tom, for real this time."

"Good night, Virginia."

Ginny shut the diary and slipped it under her pillow as usual. While she prepared for bed, she wondered what sort of spell could free a memory from an enchanted diary -- perhaps something like a Pensieve? They could create realistic feelings and maybe that could be reversed. In any case, after tomorrow evening, maybe she and Tom could talk for real instead of having to wait for her hand to catch up with her thoughts.

Tom would listen and help her with her schoolwork. He could come with her and see things as they happened instead of waiting for secondhand reports. Tom could keep her safe from the Heir.

Ginny slept with a smile on her face, anticipating her first sight of her protector.

---------------------------------------------

A.N. This chapter didn't cover nearly as much ground as I originally planned -- the big climax now comes in chapter 7. Ah well, we have symbolism and foreshadowing instead!

Thanks to Elizabeth Caitlin, EmmieT, Itaje, jords, KelseyPotter, lostgrl, lunarennui, and quiddity for reviewing chapter 5. Please review -- if you tell me what's working and what isn't, I'll have a much easier time guaranteeing the quality of chapter 7! (Though probably not the release date.)

---------------------------------------------