Voice of Darkness

"Hey Ginny, you ok? You look kind of tired." Ginny lifted her gaze to see Harry looking at her in concern. She sighed, placing her fork down to rest on the edge of her plate.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she said, "just stressed about the O.W.L.s." Why couldn't everyone just stop drawing attention to the fact she wasn't sleeping well? She was tired of people constantly bothering her about every little thing. It was bad enough she was the youngest of seven, especially when her siblings were six very overprotective brothers. Couldn't everyone else just worry about themselves like normal people? It was stifling, really.

"Oh... you know, it's only the start of the term; the O.W.L.s are months away. You really shouldn't get so worked up about them this soon," Harry said. Ginny was sure he was only trying to help, but for some reason, it only bothered her.

"I'll worry if I want," she said, the words sounding childish even to her ears.

"Err, sorry, I didn't mean..." Harry trailed off, not really knowing what to say without angering her further. Ginny sighed again, sinking in her seat.

"It's alright. I haven't been sleeping well since, well, you know..." Harry nodded his head knowingly, "and I guess it's just been getting to me, is all." Ginny knew that he would assume she had been having dreams about the Department of Mysteries, and chose not to correct this thought. She knew she should tell him what her dreams really were about. Harry, of all people, would understand. She was about to tell him, when something inside her head made her stop.

Do you really want to tell him? He might think you're possessed again and run to tell Dumbledore... Do you really want to start a scene over something as trivial as a dream?

She considered this for a moment. No, she really didn't want to cause a scene.

'Besides,' she thought, 'I'm not a child anymore. I can deal with my own nightmares on my own.'

That's right, my dear, you're old enough to make your own decisions. You don't need anybody making a fuss over you when you've had a bad dream.

"That's right," Ginny said quietly to herself, unaware she had spoken aloud.

"What's right?"

"Oh, uh..." Ginny stumbled, caught off guard, "nothing really. Just, err... talking to myself... I just...uh... realized something for an assignment, that's all." She blushed lightly, knowing how lame that must have sounded. At the same time, she was a bit worried. Had she actually just answered a voice in her head?

'Oh no!' she panicked, 'I'm not hearing voices... I can't be!' Harry, having picked up on her unease, asked;

"Are you sure you're ok, Gin... you seem kind of out of it."

"I...I don't feel so well, actually," she said, standing up. "I think I'm going to go lay down."

"Maybe you should go see Madame Pomfrey. You wouldn't want to get in trouble for skipping class," Harry said, trying to be helpful. It only irritated her.

"I'll be fine," Ginny said, a bit more harshly than she intended. "If anyone asks, I'll take a Puking Pastille."

There's a good girl, stand up for yourself. You don't need Potter telling you what to do.

'If this keeps up, I won't need a Puking Pastille to make me sick,' Ginny thought, fleeing the Great Hall and running up to her dormitory.

Ginny ran about as fast as she could back to Gryffindor Tower, wanting desperately to be alone. She paused at the portrait hole only long enough to give the password and wait for the door to swing open. She vaulted herself through the opening and ran upstairs to her room, ignoring the confused looks of her fellow Gryffindors as she went. She sighed in a small relief that her dorm-mates had all left for breakfast or classes already.

She crossed the room and unceremoniously threw herself onto her bed, sitting up only long enough to yank the hangings closed around her before she flopped down into the middle of the bed, drawing her knees close to her chin.

Before she even knew what she was doing, Ginny felt hot tears fall from her eyes, rolling across her face and getting caught in her now-wild red hair. She felt her body shake violently as she fought desperately to hold back the sobs that were trying to escape her.

There, there, my dear Ginny, no need to cry...

'My God, what is happening to me?' her mind screamed. It was too much for her to bear. She moved her hands to cover her face, crying even harder. It had been bad enough when she was having nightmares, but she didn't think she could handle voices too...

Voices? My dear, I'm offended... it's only one voice that you've been hearing; it's only my voice.

Yes, it may be only one voice, but it was the last voice she wanted to hear. Icy and hard, yet sickly sweet and soft all at the same time, the voice belonged to the man who had been haunting her dreams since the end of last term. Tom Riddle.

The realization struck Ginny like a hard blow, winding her and making her choke on her sobs. She tried frantically to draw in breath, panicking when she could not.

There is no need to panic Ginny. It will not be like last time...

She finally caught her breath, gasping. Somehow, although she knew it was wrong, she believed him. She didn't know why; after all nothing had happened that should have lead her to trust him. But still, there was something inside her that made Ginny believe that Tom wouldn't hurt her.

Not that that meant that she was any less terrified to be hearing his voice in her head.

"I should tell somebody about this," she whispered to herself.

Is that really what you want? Everyone will make a big deal out of it. They won't leave you alone. Every time you want to be alone, they will come find you under the guise of asking if something is wrong, but they will secretly be checking up on you to make sure you are still yourself... You will never have a moment of peace if you tell anybody. Do you really want that, Ginevra dear?

"No, I suppose not," Ginny said aloud, answering the voice only she could hear. "Wait a minute!" She cried out a moment later, "Of course you would try to convince me not to say anything! If I did, Dumbledore would find a way to keep you from talking to or influencing me." It was a good thing the room was empty, because otherwise her outburst would have caused some very unwanted attention.

My dear girl, I am here, and I doubt there is anything the headmaster or anybody else could do to be rid of me completely. I am in your memories, and as such will always be here. Even a memory charm would only serve to suppress your memories... not erase them. As for telling somebody... you know I speak the truth when I say that you would never have a moment's peace.

Ginny moaned, burying her face in her bed, tears sliding down her face once again. He was right, as much as Ginny hated to admit it, but Tom was right.

"What am I going to do?" she lamented. "What am I going to do?"

Worry not, dear girl, for all will be right in the end...