Heart-Throb

I made sure the heavy red curtains were drawn tight enough together so that absolutely no light shown through, and no clandestine eyes could peer in on what I was doing. It was lights out, but I was far from ready for bed. So many wonderful and enchanting events had taken place today, and aside from lying down and savoring every heavenly memory, I wanted to reflect on thier significance. Therefore, I was going to write in my diary. I retrieved the little diary that I had happened apon among my school things before term from under my pillow. I had never owned a diary, and I was so very thankful to have it, even though I had no clue how it had come to me. This would be the first time I had ever written in it, and I wanted to pour my heart out.
For over a year, now I had been dreaming of a boy that was a friend of my older brother’s. I was feeling as if I was about to explode. I had revealed my crush to Hermionie, whom I regaurded as the closest thing to a sister I would ever have, and she had told me that Harry was a very fine boy to have feelings for. She told me she could see maybe one day, Harry and I might end up together, but that I was still young. This gave me hope, but I still felt so unsatisfied, not having proclaimed my love for Harry potter yet, and this diary gave me a feeling of security. I could confide all of my young hopes, dreams, and desires in the book, and not fear of making a fool of myself in front of anyone. I could write the stupidest, sappiest love poems, and no one would be able to read them. Or would they? Oh, well, I’d just hide it really well when I couldn’t carry it on me.
I pulled a quill and a bottle of ink from my bag beside my bed, and opened the diary in my lap. Dear Diary, Today is September third, 1993, This morning, I had transfiguration. Colin Creevey is such a nerd. He wanted to take pictures of everything! Including my half-turned match that still looked like a match except all shiny and siver. He’s a nutter. Poor Harry. Colin is always following him around. My words were coming forth from my quill in a fevor. As soon as the thought was in my head, it was written on the parchement. Harry. Harry Potter, the boy who lived. He is so handsome, and he must be a very powerful wizard, if what Ron says is true. Imagine defeating one of the darkest wizards of all time at that age, all on your own. Even if he can’t remember it, he is still so very powerful, I’m sure of it. I really think I love Harry. I think he is the most wonderful guy alive. Aside from Dad...and Fred and George, but they’re my brothers. Oh, and my brother, Bill, he is so cool, and of course, my brother Ron, but he can be a bit of a snob sometimes. Charlie and Percy are kind of nerdy, but they are family, so I can’t be mean and not write about them, too. I paused to sigh, and nearly busrt into tears, as I looked at the page I had just written on. It was blank!
Before I could panic like a basket case, some of my words reappeared. I peered closer to see which ones had shown up. I read, How many brothers do you have? Okay, that was wierd. I didn’t write that. I hardly had time to decide what to do, when the last words disappeared, and another few words appeared. My name is Tom I’m a diary. I’m a very special and old fashioned diary. You see, you write, I listen. Then, when you finish writing, I can talk to you about it all, I was startled at first. Then, I thought about it; really thought about it. What a great idea! This was what I wanted all along, a confidant, someone to listen to all I had to say, someone who had no prior agenda. I needed someone who wouldn’t laugh at me, and someone who would talk for as long as I wanted. I was too thrilled to think straight. I dipped my quill quickly, dripping ink on my quilt, as I brought the writing tool to the parchement. I’m Virginia Weasely. I’m eleven years old, and I attend Hogwart’s school of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Pleasure to meet you, Virginia. What are you like? What do you like to do, who are you close friends with? What do you look like?
I smiled. My diary was very interested in me. As it should be. Well, I’m about average hieght..average looks, blue eyes, red hair, and a rather pointy nose. I like Harry Potter most of all, but I like school, I like my brothers...for the most part, I like Hermionie, and Neville, and Susan, and well, people in general. I like quiddich, and school, and I like lemon merangue and chocolate frogs. I guess Hermionie is my closest friend, and I spend alot of time with my youngest older brother, Ron. Ron and Hermionie are best friends with Harry so they don’t really have time for me, and Harry is very busy. He’s famous, and he is still in school, and he gets into all sorts of adventures, and he has two best friends, so I don’t see much of him.
Now Tom wrote back, What is Harry famous for?
He defeated the dark wizard, Voldemort when he was only a baby. Ron says Harry says Voldemort’s name all the time. I’m trying to say it every once in a while because Harry thinks it helps. Ron says I’m crazy. I can almost say it, now. I just can’t get past the ‘m’.

So, how exactly do you feel about Harry?

Oh, he’s wonderful. I think I am in love with him. When he is around, I feel like laughing and crying and screaming all at the same time, but all I ever do is just sit there like an idiot with lock-jaw. He must think I am a complete nutter! I’ve acted like a fool every time I see him. I’ve broken dishes, fallen off of furniture, tried to talk only to have a small squeek come out, and not an actual word.

I’m sure he feels just as embarrassed as you to have such an effect on you.

I smiled. I had never even considered that I could embarass him. I suppose it was possible. If it wasn’t possible, it was still something comforting to think about.
Tom began writing again. Virginia, you should practice talking to Harry face to face. Find yourself a picture of Harry potter, and pactice while looking at him. Trust me, by Halloween, I’ll have you ready to talk to him, and act normal. Just follow my advice. It’s what I’m here for.
Talk to Harry Potter? Find a picture? Where-? Of course, Colin! That little Creepy Creevy will have a mountain of them soon, when he develops his film! Do you really think it will work? I wrote anxiously. Positive. Tom replied.

Halloween night, I didn’t go down to dinner right away. Tom had promised me that I could talk to Harry tonight without making a fool of myself. I was soon going to find out if it was true. I had been anticipating this moment for sometime, actually ever since I had first written to Tom. Tom had turned out to be a great diary, and just what I needed. Even if talking to Harry’s picture didn’t help me talk to the real him, at least it had made me feel really good to talk to the photo Harry. I clutched Tom close to me, as I left my dormitory a little late that evening. Suddenly, I was in the common room. I blinked and clutched my head. I had noticed little black outs like this lately. I was convinced it was stress, but Percy said I must have been catching cold and forced me to take a pepper-up potion from Madame Pomfry.
I shrugged it off and walked out of the portrait hole. I was halfway to the great hall, hopes of finding a seat next to Harry Potter and joining in on a bit of conversation when I must have fainted.
I only assumed I had fainted because I awoke on the floor, quite surprized to be there, right near the great hall. I felt tired, and dazed. I recalled having a dream, but couldn’t remember what it was about. The dream was really of little importance to me at the moment. My biggest concern was what to do. I didn’t feel much like standing, but I had to get off of the floor. What if Harry walked out of the great hall and saw me on the floor? Or worse, what if Percy found me! He’d probobly send me to the Hospital wing for a week! I took a deep breath and forced myself to stand.
It was difficult, but I managed to get a hold of a short statue for support. As my breaths became deeper, it was easier to stand on my own strength. I looked down the front of my robes, and I had paint all on my gryffindor underrobes. I pulled my black overrobes together, and secured them. Red paint? this was wierd. I tried to steady myself. Finally, I could walk to the great hall. By then, I didn’t feel much like braving a chat with Harry potter, so I didn’t even look for him when I went to sit down.
“You look exaughsted.” Janna Hackle stared at me as I took a seat next to her. “I am a bit tired.” I was trying to think up some excuse for my fatigue as I helped myself to as much chocolate as I could stuff into my mouth (so I wouldn’t have to talk), when it dawned on me; Tom was missing! I stuffed more chocolate in my mouth and dashed back out of the great hall. I looked all around where I had awoken a few mouments earlier. Tom wasn’t anywhere to be seen! I searched feverently, retracing my steps all the way back to my dormitory. That was where I finally found Tom, under my pillow. Strange. I was sure I had brought Tom downstairs with me when I left for dinner. Okay, it didn’t really matter, I had Tom back, I was tired, and I was hungry. I felt better from the chocolate, but I was in need of sustanance. I had a sack of roasted mixed nuts in my trunk, and I retrieved them, and sat down on my bed to write in my diary.
Hello, Tom
Hello, Virginia
I didn’t talk to Harry. I wasn’t feeling well.
I know.
I read Tom’s words over and over again until they dissapeared into the parchment. What was that supposed to mean? In a most inopportune fashion, I heard a great explosion of voices from the commonroom beneath me. At first, I was going to ignore the sounds downstairs, and continue on with my writing, but something stopped me. I heard Pavarti Patil practically screeching in exasperation, “What in the name of Mimm is the chamber of secrets?!”
The Chamber of Secrets? My heart began to beat faster and faster as I realised that I had heard that phrase somewhere else tonight, my dream. I stuffed Tom back under my pillow and rushed to the stairs. The commonroom was in an uproar. I caught only snatches of conversation. (whoever was talking loudest at the moment) I managed to descern that Mrs. Norris had been killed, and that the someone who had done it had also written a message in blood. I walked back to the dormitory with the uncanny feeling that I had heard this all before, somewhere else.
I sat back down on my bed, and retrieved Tom from his hiding place. I opened the diary up, and dipped my quill.
Tom, Do you know anything about the chamber of secrets?
I awaited his answer with baited breath.
No more than what you told me
My heart was beating in my throat, now. I wanted to scream. More words from Tom appeared, Why don’t you tell me more about your Harry. I know you’ve had a hard day, but thinking about Harry will make you feel better.
I took a deep breath, and began to write. Writing about Harry did make me feel better. I went to bed that night so tired I felt that I might never awake.

My heart pounded in my ears as I ran down the third floor hall. I had resigned to get rid of him. As much as Tom had been to me in the begining, I had to get rid of him. I had tried before to burn him, but every time I had begun to do so, I felt all hot myself, as if as soon as the flame touched the cover, I myself would feel his pain. Tom had ment so much to me, had understood me better than anyone, he had become a part of me, and I could not see him destroyed. I tried shutting him in my trunk and never letting him out, but I found myself, despite my firm resolution, writing in him again. Then, It happened again as well. There was another attack, and another black out, another dream.
I was the one, I was the heir of Slytherin. But how? Father or Mother had never told me about it. Did they think I would never find out? Tom must have brought it out of me somehow. My trouble had started with him. It was hard for me to accept, but I had to do this. I had to stop myself before I killed someone. I had to “loose” Tom. There was only one way to do it, the least painful death that I could think of; drowning. I slipped into the girl’s bathroom, thankful the hall was empty, and thankful no one ever went into Moaning Myrtle’s toilet.
As I shut the door behind me, I was even more thankful that Myrtle was nowhere to be seen. I looked at Tom’s hard, black cover. One last time, said my inner monologe, I could write in him one last time, as a farewell. “No!” I shouted outloud, and I hurled the book into a bowl and flushed. I turned and rushed out of the bathroom without a second look.
Weeks passed, and life seemed to have returned to normal. At first, I had a hard time adjusting, but as spring began to come around, I was quite my usual self. And as my time with Tom Riddle slid further and fyrther away, I began to wonder if I really was a scitzophrenic homicidal descendant of Slytherin, or if it had just been all Tom all along. It began to matter less and less, as the days went by and I had all but forgotten about the horrible diary. (No one would ever find him where I had put him!)I had even started to focus in on my facination with Harry. I had continued to write poetry, but this time on plain old parchement. As Valentines day drew closer, a perfect and quite original plan came to form in my mind. I had planned, on the day of lovers, to write on my softest parchement with the pretty yellow ink my housemate, Jennifer, sometimes let me borrow, one of my best poems, and to seal it with a kiss and slip it to Harry. I wasn’t going to sign it, I just wanted to see what his reaction was, and if it was favorable, I would tell him I wrote it for him.
Little did I know that St. Valentines day would be the worst of the whole year, and it all started with my first class, Defense Against Dark Arts. Apparently, Professor Lockhart had planned a whole day-long celebration for the holiday, and he was quite eager to help me out, when my special letter fell out of my things and in front of his feet. “Miss Weasly, is this a love letter?” He beamed, loud enough for the whole class to hear. “Well, I can see that some of my festive spirit is begining to spread, at least to those most astute and empathetic enough to see that we could all use a little celebration. I’ll tell you what I’ll do, dear heart. I’ll have it made into a singing valentine, and delivered in person free of charge just for you?” I tried to speak, but I was so horror struck that I could not move or say anything. Slowly, tears began to fall silently down my cheeks. “Aww, there now, you sweet little girl, I know I’m generous, but there is no need to cry. It is nothing to me to go out of my way for such a charming little creature.”
I hated it even more that he mentioned my tears in front of everyone, which just made me feel even more sorry for myself, and my crying wouldn’t stop. Lockhart was ruining everything...my heart was bleeding as the tears spilled out onto my flushed cheeks, and I watched Lockhart carry my precious letter away from me. I only hoped that I would be nowhere near Harry when one of those horrid little dwaves delivered my beautiful poem in the form of an off-key song.
As the day wore on, my axiety mounted as I wondered if Harry had heard the song, and if the dwarf had said who it was from, and if he would ever speak to me again, or if I could ever look him in the face again.
Then it all culminated in what I thought at the time was the cresendo in the hall infront of Flitwick’s and Binns’ classrooms. It was then that the valentine dwarf cornered him. Harry, understandingly, tried in vain to escape, but the dwarf held him fast and made my ameteur peom sound even more corny! At least, I sighed to myself, my face buried in my hands, He didn’t say who it was from.
Percy was making an awful fuss, when I realised that Draco Malfoy (the bastard) had taken something from Harry’s pile of things that had spilled in his scuffle with the dwarf. I felt as if my eyes would pop out of my head, my heart would jump out of my mouth, and adrenaline would explode out of my skin when I saw what Malfoy was holding! It was Tom! I did’t know how, but someway, Harry had found Tom. My life was falling away in jagged, flesh ripping pieces as I realised that Tom may have told Harry everything! I had to get Tom back. I had to, just in case Harry had not been told, and I could keep my secrets safe. (espeacially after that embarrassing valintine incedent) I was doomed, doomed to be bound to Tom forever, I could see that now, as plainly as the hard, black cover of my diary. The fates were against me.

I stirred, feeling more awake and alive than I had since I had been back home at the burrow. I knew just by the smell that I was in the chamber. Oh, how I wished I had told Harry everything at breakfast, I didn’t care, now if Percy knew, Harry would have been able to stop Tom Riddle, stopped him before he had come out of the diary. I didn’t remember how I had gotten into the chamber, I didn’t even remember fainting. I wondered for a second if I was dead. I rolled over and moaned. No, I wasn’t dead, but the way I ached all over, I wished I was. The first thig I noticed was the monster, and he appeared to be dead. Then, Harry was at my side. I was surprised to see him, and at first, I wanted to throw my arms around him and cry, but I knew I must be strong, I had to tell him. I began to cry anyway, confessing your sins is never easy.
“Harry-Oh, Harry”, I sobbed, “I tried to tell you at b-breakfast, but I c-couldn’t say it in front of Percy-it was me, Harry-but I-I s-swear I didn’t mean to-R-Riddle made me, he took me over-and-how did you kill that-that thing? W-where’s Riddle? The last thing I r-remember is him coming out of the diary-”
Harry held the diary up for me to see. there were a couple of ink-stained holes clean through the book, cover to cover. “It’s al right.” he said, trying to smile, “Riddle is finished. Look! He and the basilisk. C’mon, Ginny”, He stood, and began pulling me up with him, “Let’s get out of here...”