“Drink up, Miss Weasley.” Madam Pomfrey handed Ginny a warm mug of hot chocolate. The young girl brought the rim of the cup up to her face and smelled the delicious aroma of the drink. She moved the mug to her lips, but her hands were shaking so horribly the hot chocolate lapped over the edge of the cup and slopped down her front, on to her clean nightgown and the sheets of her new bed in the hospital wing.
She did not notice the hot drink on her, however. Her mind was too busy pondering the events of the past year. But it’s over now. It’s done. Even Harry said so. He had saved her when she was but an inch from death. Riddle’s finished. The diary is gone. Tom can’t control me anymore. These thoughts should have been consoling to Ginny, but they only made her feel worse.
She had trusted Riddle. She had told him everything. From her brothers’ constant teasing, to her huge crush on Harry Potter, to her fear of always being pushed aside by her brothers. Tom had seemed to understand. He listened to her and heard her out; he had made her believe she could trust him, and now she was broken.
Tom had learned so much about Ginny from what she had told him through his old diary; he had picked out her strengths and her weaknesses. Within two months of finding and first writing in the diary, Ginny had given him enough details about herself that he was able to posses her and take control over her for periods of time. Ginny could not remember anything that had taken place during the time of these possessions. For weeks she had wondered what had been going on, until she had realized the connection. The blank periods of memory had always come soon after she had spoken with Riddle. Ginny attempted to get rid of the diary, but, to her shock, Harry had found it. Knowing what could happen if Tom managed to take advantage of Harry, she stole the diary from his dormitory while he and his roommates were in class. Feeling left out, scared, and lonely, she began to write to Tom again.
Lying in her bed in the hospital wing, she wished she had never written in that diary. If it hadn’t been for Tom Marvolo Riddle, she would feel safe right now; she would feel whole.
The last time Tom had possessed her, he had forced her to write her own death message on the wall of the second floor corridor, and enter the Chamber of Secrets. She only faintly remembered being alone in the chamber. Riddle had come out of the diary and she had been weakening, dying.
When she had awoken, Harry was there, clutching the ruined diary in his hand. “It’s all right. Riddle’s finished.” Harry had seemed so calm; he spoke with ease as he showed her the diary and helped her to stand up.
It was hard for Ginny to believe that moment had been just hours earlier. How could I have trusted Tom? He nearly killed Harry too!
Tears were once again streaming down Ginny’s face and falling silently onto her hot chocolate covered nightgown. The shaking in her hands worsened and she dropped the mug altogether. Madam Pomfrey, who had heard the cup fall and hit the floor, came bustling over and with a flick of her wand cleaned Ginny’s gown and her bed sheets. She gave Ginny a sympathetic look before clearing up the mug and retreating to tend to other patients, most of which were being revived from having been petrified by the basilisk from the Chamber of Secrets.
Ginny looked around at all the people what had been hurt by her actions of the past year; all the people who Riddle had hurt through her. She was sobbing very badly now. Some of the people that had been petrified had been people either she or her brothers were good friends with.
During the year, every time another person was petrified, it was like another crack formed inside her. When Riddle had emerged from the diary it was as though all the criss-crossing cracks burst open and shattered the person that once was Ginevra Molly Weasley.
When she had begun her first year at Hogwarts, she had known exactly who she was. She had been a bold and energetic 11 year old, who loved her family and friends. She had been very trusting of other people and thought she could tell who was good and who was not.
Now, she wasn’t sure who she could trust. Tom had seemed like such a great person; it seemed like he cared about her and her feelings. How could she tell who really was kind and who wanted nothing more than to use her? Would she have to spend the remainder of her life not trusting anybody? No! I just have to be a bit more cautious!
She laid back and closed her eyes. Tomorrow she could worry, but for now she just couldn’t stay awake. Just as the final victim of the basilisk sat up in their bed, Ginny drifted away into a dreamless sleep.