Ginny Weasley and the Heir of Slytherin

Ginny didn't think she had ever felt more scared in her life. Not after she had had that flying accident which left her lying flat on the ground for seemingly hours. Not when she ran downstairs to see Harry inside her house for the first time. Not... well, her Sorting was a close call. She had been pretty scared she wouldn't end up in Gryffindor.

For a moment, Ginny felt strangely certain that she had done this. But how did she know that? Just the fact that the paint was on her robes didn't prove anything. She could have come across the real perpetrator by accident and he or she could have put a Memory Charm on her. Maybe paint got splashed on her in the struggle. And why would Ginny do something like this anyway? She didn't like Mrs. Norris very much, but this was taking it a bit far. Besides, how could she have forgotten doing something like this? You forgot what you were doing while you were wandering around absent-mindedly not while you were murdering cats and vandalizing school hallways.

But she knew how it would look if she were seen standing there. She imagined what would happen if someone were to walk up and see her there right then. She would stand there, rooted to the spot and trying to look innocent while her eyes begged them to believe she hadn't done this. Would they believe her? She was only a first year, but she did have the paint on her robes and she didn't exactly have the greatest alibi. And if she had done it, she would still be stranding there, trying to look innocent and beg with her eyes that she hadn't done it. Either way, it would look the same.

That was when she heard voices nearing her -- the voices of Harry, Ron and Hermione! She couldn't let Harry see her like this, looking like she had taken up a career as a butcher. It was bad enough that he already undoubtedly thought she was the most bashful little girl in all the world. What would he think of her after seeing this?

It was too much for her to face. Ginny made her decision.

She wrapped her cloak around herself to hide her dirtied clothes and sprinted away from that horrible spot as fast as her legs could carry her. Her heart pounded -- she felt like she was doing the wrong thing, but there was no turning back now. Once she had put a fair amount of distance between herself and that terrible scene, she stopped on a higher floor and felt herself start to panic.

What should she do now? Hot tears stung her eyes. She didn't know and she felt so scared and confused. And she couldn't even go to anyone for help. After all, she could hardly claim innocence having run away from the scene of the crime. Now she would have to live with that choice and that meant handling this all on her own. Well, she could be brave, couldn't she? She was in Gryffindor, after all. But Ginny didn't feel very brave at the moment -- her body couldn't stop shaking and silent tears were pouring down her face. A small part of her even wished she could be held in her mother's arms as though she were five years old again.

Well, one thing was for sure -- she couldn't just remain standing there. If she was going to hide what had happened to her, she should be trying to think of something to do about the clothes she was wearing. Ginny took off running again, heart thumping uncontrollably, until she found a bathroom. She tried to wash the paint out of her clothes as best she could without taking them off, but it didn't really come out. She was able to get the paint off her trembling hands, but never felt totally confident that she had gotten it out completely. Had her hands always looked that red?

After deciding she had gotten as much of the paint out as she ever would, Ginny ran all the way up to her thankfully deserted dormitory. Then Ginny realized why it must be deserted -- everyone was at the Halloween feast right now! But somehow she didn't feel very hungry. With a start, she noticed how dark it was outside and it struck her that she must have lost her memory for hours this time. There was no denying that this was definitely serious now.

When Ginny threw her cloak onto the floor, she heard a thud. To her surprise, she found Tom's diary was in one of the pockets. What was it doing there? Had she had the diary on her the previous time she lost her memory? She didn't know -- but she couldn't remember taking the diary out from under her mattress when she wrote in it that time. She couldn't risk getting the paint on Tom's diary so she quickly stripped off all her clothes, climbed into bed and clutched his book in her arms as though her life depended on it. She curled her body around it and just let herself cry.

She needed him right now -- she didn't want to go through this alone -- but she hardly felt like writing. Her hands probably wouldn't have even worked that way at the moment. No, she could write to Tom in the morning -- right now she just wanted to feel close to him. She wanted to fall asleep that way, but her sense prevailed. For one thing, her clothes -- the evidence which linked her to those ghastly scarlet letters written above Mrs. Norris' stiff body -- were still lying at the foot of her bed. She couldn't allow anyone to see them.

She forced herself to leave her bed, wrapping her bedclothes around herself for warmth, and shove the dirty laundry under it with her bare feet. She would figure out something more permanent to do about them later. She then picked up Tom's diary, letting her bedding fall off of her in the process, and squeezed him in her arms one last time. Ginny shivered, feeling very naked. Of course, she was naked, but she had been undressed many times in her life and she had never felt this naked before.

She stood there awhile, shivering and clutching Tom's diary over her throbbing heart. She just wanted to climb back into bed with him, but knew she couldn't do that. She shoved her diary under her mattress and pulled on her nightdress. Her bed seemed to feel empty without Tom there, so she bunched up her blanket in her arms and hugged it, pretending it was Tom. This somehow made her feel secure and she fell asleep.

* * *

"Ginny, are you okay?" Kimmy asked her the next morning.

"Yeah, I guess," replied Ginny. She still felt a little scared about what had happened to her the previous night, but now the sun was up and that terrible sight seemed to be a million miles away.

"Well, you weren't at the Halloween feast," said Kimmy, "and you were already asleep by the time we all got up here to go to bed."

"I -- I got confused," Ginny said anxiously. "I, uh, felt tired and must have fallen asleep without thinking."

"Well, you're sort of lucky in a way," said Kimmy. "Something terrible happened -- I guess it must've happened while you were sleeping. I -- I don't want to tell you about it, but I suppose you'll have to find out eventually. Mrs. Norris got Petrified."

Fear flooded through Ginny. She had seen the scene with Mrs. Norris alone and now that seemed so long ago. Ginny could have almost believed it was nothing more than a horrible, horrible dream. Kimmy's words changed that -- if another person knew about it, it irrevocably made it reality.

"P-Petrified?" asked Ginny as all her terrible emotions from the previous night started to seep back into her.

"Yeah, she was hanging right under this writing that said something about some 'Chamber of Secrets' being opened," continued Kimmy. "It was quite a horrible sight -- it'll probably give me nightmares for weeks. But Professor Sprout will be able to cure her."

"So -- so she's not dead?" asked Ginny, feeling a little better.

"No, just Petrified," said Kimmy. "Do you have any idea what the Chamber of Secrets is?"

"I -- I don't know exactly," answered Ginny. "I th-think one of my brothers once told me and Ron about a hidden chamber in the school with a monster inside it. It was probably Charlie."

"It's only after Muggle-borns," Fleeta Fleece said suddenly as she tied her hair up into the large blue hair bow she wore every day. Ginny looked up -- Fleeta rarely socialized with the other girls except to make the occasional insulting comment, usually something favorably comparing her appearance to theirs. Ginny normally dealt with this by pretending Fleeta did not exist.

"How would you know that?" Ginny asked her.

"My older brother told me about it," explained Fleeta.

"I didn't know you had a brother," said Kimmy casually. She was still trying to convince Fleeta to be friends with her.

"Well, he's in... Hufflepuff," Fleeta muttered in disgust. "I don't like to talk about it."

"But we don't know for sure that the Chamber's really open, r-right?" Ginny asked anxiously. "I mean, someone could've just written that there as a joke, couldn't they?"

"Why do you care?" asked Fleeta. "Aren't you pure-blood?"

"Well, Kimmy's Muggle-born!" Ginny shouted at her. "Wouldn't you care if she got attacked?" Fleeta looked like she was considering it for a moment.

"Not really," she said eventually. "She's kind of annoying."

Ginny desperately wanted to grab Fleeta by the front of her stupid blouse and shake her violently until she cared about something other than clothes and makeup. In fact, it was a temptation which took nearly all of her self-control to resist. And it didn't help that Fleeta had a very smug look on her face almost as though daring Ginny to do just that.

"Lots of other people are Muggle-born, too!" Ginny said hotly. "Don't you care about any of them? Do you only care about yourself? Why do you think you're so much better than everyone else?"

"You sound just like my mother," said Fleeta. "Which is fitting, seeing how you're both just about as ugly."

"So, you hate your brother and your mother," said Ginny. "Do you even like anyone in your own family?"

"Oh, yes -- my father," Fleeta said smugly as though no one could possibly have a better father than her. "He's the most wonderful man in the world," she added as her naturally flushed cheeks turned even redder, "and he loves me more than anything. Of course, he ends up rowing with Mum a lot 'cause she thinks he's spoiling me."

"Imagine that," said Ginny.

* * *

"Dear Tom," Ginny wrote after the other girls had left for breakfast, "I can't remember what I did on the night of Halloween, but a cat was attacked and I've got paint all down my front. Someone wrote words near the scene of the crime which said something about some 'Chamber of Secrets' being opened. Tom, I'm really scared!"

"I have the deepest sympathy for you imaginable. The Chamber of Secrets was opened once when I was at Hogwarts. I was in my fifth year at the time and I was afraid too, so if you feel ashamed of being scared, then you really have no reason to feel that way."

"I don't feel ashamed. Anyone would be scared if they were in my place!"

"That's my girl. You understand that it is the control of fear and not the absence of fear which makes you brave. That means you're a true Gryffindor."

Ginny's agitation started to fade. She felt so proud to know she was a true Gryffindor! This was why she loved Tom so -- he always knew how to make her feel better no matter how bad she felt. And she never doubted that he truly meant what he said.

"It's really nice of you to say that," she wrote, "but I haven't even told you the worst of it. After I regained my memory, I found myself right in front of the writing. What if they find out I was there and think I did it? What if I did do it?"

Ginny wasn't sure she should have included that last sentence -- she didn't really think that she'd done it and it was kind of a silly idea anyway. However, she had made the conscious choice to not mention that she thought the writing on the wall looked like it was the same as the paint on her. She knew what she meant to Tom and she didn't want to worry him unnecessarily. Besides, the similarity was probably something she had imagined in her paranoid state.

"You didn't do it, Ginny. You're just overreacting. It's quite understandable considering what you went through last night. That said, I wouldn't tell anyone what you just told me. When things like this happen, the Ministry of Magic usually tries to find a scapegoat. Whatever you do, do not give them one. You have no idea how much I wish I could hold you right now."

"I wish you could hold me, too."

This caused Ginny to briefly wonder whether Tom had a body somewhere. And if he had one, what did he look like and where was he? She had never really thought about this before. For a moment, she considered asking Tom about it, but decided against it.

"Do you know what the Chamber of Secrets is?" she wrote. "Fleeta thinks it has a monster which only attacks Muggle-borns. Is that true?"

"Yes. The Chamber of Secrets was built by Salazar Slytherin when he had a falling out with the other founders over blood purity. Slytherin believed that only pure-bloods should attend Hogwarts and, when Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw wouldn't agree, he left the school, but not before building the Chamber of Secrets. In the Chamber, he housed a monster, which could only be controlled by his heir, to purge the school of all Muggle-borns."

"That's terrible! Do you think the Chamber's real? Is there any way to stop it?"

"I don't think there's anything you personally can do about it. As grown up as I know you are, this is truly an adult issue. You should just leave it to the teachers and try not to think about it too much. It'll only disturb you."

Over the following days, Ginny would have been only too happy to follow Tom's advice, but everyone knew about the attack on Mrs. Norris and wouldn't stop talking about it. Ginny was by now fully convinced that she hadn't done it, but she still hated hearing about it and avoided the corridor with the writing like the plague. She had buried the clothes with the paint on them at the bottom of her trunk as though hoping the stains might disappear if they were kept out of sight.

Everyone knew Ginny was upset, but that was what was expected of her what with her being "too young" and all. Besides, most of the first years were scared, so it was easy to assume she was simply another one of them. But she wasn't -- what she felt was very, very different from what anyone else felt. Was it guilt? Maybe or maybe it was just carrying a horrible, dark secret she couldn't bring herself to share with anyone but Tom. Either way, Ginny had no idea what had come over her -- she even ended up crying in front of Percy of all people after she heard a dreadful rumor about Harry being the Heir of Slytherin. But if she didn't do it, shouldn't she tell a trusted teacher like McGonagall about what happened to her? It might be a valuable clue.

But Ginny didn't want anyone to know. Besides, the teachers would probably work out who really did it just fine without her. Then it would all go away and no one would ever know she had been where she was and seen what she'd seen. But why was she so ashamed of simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time? It wasn't that she was afraid they would think she had done -- well, actually she was, but even aside from that she still didn't want anyone to know she had been there. Of course, it would force her to talk about it and she didn't even want to think about it.

Through it all, Tom was the only thing keeping her sane. Ginny was now writing to him more than ever before, telling him how terribly alone and confused she felt. Tom continued to assure her that she was thinking straight and had made the right choice keeping her memory lapse a secret. Sometimes she wondered if he was lying about that to make her feel better, but she knew that couldn't be. Tom really cared about her and no matter how badly it made her feel he wouldn't let her make a big mistake like that if it truly was a mistake.

On the morning of November the seventh, the Great Hall's enchanted ceiling perfectly reflected Ginny's mood as well as the gloomy weather. That was the way she felt despite the fact she'd been looking forward to this day for some time -- it was the day of the year's first Quidditch match, Gryffindor verses Slytherin. It was hard to believe only a week had passed since Halloween -- in contrast to how fast time seemed to run before the attack, every day since it had been a struggle. Ginny had tried to get herself excited about the first Quidditch game so she would be distracted from her feelings about the Chamber of Secrets. She was sure if she could just put it from her mind as Tom suggested, everything would fix itself in time.

As Ginny sat in the stands with the rest of the Gryffindors, she hoped they would yell out the names of all the players so she could applaud loudly when Harry's name was called and, of course, boo Draco Malfoy. Obviously, she would also be cheering for Fred and George, who were Beaters on the team, but not as loudly as she would for Harry.

Harry. It had been so long since she had thought about him. She did still like him, didn't she?

When the Gryffindor team did walk out, she cheered loudly and certainly wasn't the only one to do so. Fleeta Fleece, who seemed to be very bored, was an exception and targeted a superior you-are-so-immature look at Ginny.

But Ginny didn't care what Fleeta Fleece thought. As Ginny compared the Gryffindor and Slytherin teams, she felt wonderful pride for Gryffindor in her heart. The Gryffindor team had a strong Keeper, two of Ginny's brothers, three athletic girls and Harry, whereas the Slytherins had a bunch of surly boys and Draco Malfoy. It didn't take a genius to see which team was better.

"Are we the green team or the red?" Lorelei Pasiphaë asked suddenly, as usual speaking in almost a mumble. Actually, Lorelei normally didn't speak at all, but when she did it was nearly always a mumble.

"The red," answered Kimmy.

"Oh," said Lorelei, sounding disappointed, "that's a shame -- I like the color green."

Lorelei spent most of her time moping around and Kimmy had apparently made it her personal mission to cheer her up. After two months, Kimmy hadn't made any obvious progress, but the two had nonetheless become very close. In fact, Lorelei was such a basket case that Kimmy didn't seem to have time to make any other friendships. The morning after the attack on Mrs. Norris was about the closest she and Ginny had come to having a real conversation with each other since the first day.

Deciding that she didn't need to watch the match with a girl who thought she was immature and a girl who apparently didn't even know Gryffindor's colors, Ginny headed down the stands. She wondered if she might be able to make it onto the team herself one day, but didn't see how that could happen while Harry and the twins were still there. After all, when Harry was around she didn't seem to be able to walk in a straight line, much less play Quidditch well. And as always, Fred and George would tell her that she was "too young" even if she was the same age they were now.

"Hello, Ginny!" a voice cried out enthusiastically. It was Colin Creevey. Although she sat next to him in Charms, Ginny hadn't really talked to him since they had been on the train together.

"Hi," she said, sitting down next to him as Madam Hooch blew her whistle and the two teams rose up in the air. Colin had been hugely excited about the game for the past several weeks, so Ginny hoped his excitement would rub off on her.

"I heard your brother is Harry Potter's best friend," he gushed, "and that he actually stayed at your house this summer. Is that true?"

"Yes," said Ginny, not taking her eyes off Harry, who was flying higher up than the others so he could spot the Golden Snitch he was tasked with catching.

"What's it like having Harry Potter living in your house?" asked Colin eagerly. Just as Ginny tried to think of a half-truth so that she wouldn't have to describe the embarrassing reality, a Bludger nearly collided with Harry and brought her back to the game.

"Look, let's talk about this later," she said as George whacked the Bludger towards a Slytherin player. "Why don't we watch the game now?"

However, the Bludger turned back on Harry again. He avoided it and George tried to hit it towards Malfoy.

But the Bludger stayed on Harry and Ginny didn't need all the Gryffindor outcries of rage to know Bludgers weren't supposed to do that.

"Wow, Harry's really good!" said Colin, excitedly snapping pictures with his camera as Harry desperately tried to outfly the dangerous black ball hurtling after him.

"Don't you understand what's happening?" Ginny asked in outrage. "Bludgers aren't supposed to attack just one player -- the Slytherins have obviously messed with it so that it'll only go after Harry."

"But Harry can handle it, right?" said Colin as Fred and George took to flying next to Harry in order to protect him. "I mean, he defeated Who-Know-Who twice."

Ginny was about to respond when she felt a drop of water fall on her and realized it had started raining. Even from where she was sitting now, she could hear Fleeta Fleece yelling about her clothes getting wet and declaring that Quidditch was stupid anyway. Meanwhile, with Fred and George flying on either side of him, Harry stood no chance of catching the Snitch. The game couldn't go on like this -- they might just as well surrender to Slytherin now. Didn't Madam Hooch or anybody else realize what was going on? Should Ginny try to do something?

The dilemma was solved for her when Madam Hooch's whistle rang out and all the players returned to the ground. Feeling certain that they would fix everything, Ginny decided she ought to relax now.

"I heard you like Harry," Colin put in quickly, garbling his words a little. Ginny gritted her teeth as she blushed on cue. She knew the word about her feelings for Harry had really gotten around, but she hated being reminded of it.

"Yes," Ginny said eventually. "I -- he -- he's a pretty nice guy." Her face immediately turned bright red.

"I have a picture of him with Professor Lockhart!" Colin said excitedly and with that he held up a photograph which showed Lockhart tugging on Harry's arm, trying to pull him into the picture.

"Wow, you can almost see all of Harry's arm," Ginny said sarcastically.

"Yeah, I know," said Colin. "Minos told me how I could get the picture developed so that it moves. Isn't that incredible?" Ginny, having grown up in the wizarding world, didn't find pictures moving very remarkable, but thought it would be rude to point this out.

"Would you like a copy?" Colin asked eagerly. "You know, because you like Harry and all. I tried to get Harry to sign it, but he wouldn't."

"No, you can keep it," said Ginny. "I'm generous that way."

Ginny drew her cloak tightly around herself -- it was raining rather hard now -- as the game resumed. Fred and George had now abandoned Harry, leaving him to struggle with the rogue Bludger on his own. Ginny couldn't believe it -- they hadn't fixed the Bludger at all! Avoiding being hit by the Bludger and searching for the Snitch at the same time forced Harry to make some unconventional moves, causing several people to laugh. Ginny felt very angry. Harry could get seriously injured and they thought it was funny! If Harry did catch the Snitch in this state, Ginny would give him a standing ovation, which he would deserve every second of it.

"Have you visited Hagrid recently?" asked Colin.

"N-no," stuttered Ginny, feeling a pang of guilt. She hadn't spoken to Hagrid since the time she lost her memory and ended up outside his house. What if he thought she didn't like him anymore?

"He's pretty cool," Colin continued. "I talked with him a couple days ago. He was trying to figure out what killed one of his roosters last month."

"What?" asked Ginny in alarm. It was, after all, last month that she had found herself outside Hagrid's hut covered in rooster feathers.

"I said, 'Hagrid's pretty cool,'" Colin repeated in a louder voice. "'I talked to --'"

"I heard you!" Ginny interrupted. "I -- I was just surprised, that's all."

Even though Harry had just been hit by the Bludger, Ginny could only think about what Colin had just told her. It seemed impossible for her to deny that she had killed Hagrid's rooster and then somehow forgotten about it. What was happening to her? Was she going around attacking small animals without her knowledge? Was she losing her mind?

Suddenly, she heard loud noises and screams of shock and awe. Harry was lying on the ground of the stadium and people were gathering around him. Colin was no longer next to Ginny, having bolted out of his seat to run down to Harry.

It was over. Harry had caught the Golden Snitch and Ginny hadn't even been paying attention.

She wanted to cry.