The Serpent's Shadow
There's a way around having to transcribe everything. The letters of elegant cursive flowed seamlessly together, prettier than any boy's writing Ginny had ever seen, even Percy's. Of course most boys she knew didn't keep diaries or get trapped in them.
What kind of way? she wrote back quickly. That he hadn't mentioned this before could only mean it would be something odd. The girl tried very hard not to think of the other word she might have used.
Never trust something that thinks if you can't see where it keeps its brain, dad had told all of them more than once. Dad didn't know everything... the young witch told herself firmly.
"Do you know what the Law of Sympathy is? It's used in some advanced potions." Tom replied.
She sighed blowing a lock of hair aside Much as Ginny liked it that he didn't treat her as a baby sometimes she got the sense he forgot what year she was in and just treated her as one of his friends from school.
Does it have something to do with wood-polishing? she asked pointedly.
Apologies, Ginerva. I forget myself. Smiling at his archaic twist of phase Ginny read on.
It is possible for me to see through your eyes but I need something for the magic to know you by... a drop of blood.
A shiver ran down her spine. The chill in the common room could sneak up on you. Slowly the girl raised the pen from the paper... she wiped it then she set it upon the flesh of her left hand and pressed until a single bead of red welled up. There was something exciting about this, being part of a deeper magic, forbidden... Before she could lose her nerve she pressed her hand to the page. In that instant Ginny Weaselly felt a surge of power run through every every fiber of her being...
"Did your quill break Weaselly?" The hated drawling voice of Draco Malfoy intruded on her thoughts. "Gloriana lost some feathers this morning you can take them if you want. Should save you a few knuts... that's what your father makes in a month isn't it?"
Something inside Ginny snapped. She didn't recall closing the diary, getting up, nor could she ever remember being so
coldly furious in her young life. "We get it Malfoy. Unlike you I actually have to learn magic and make my own way in life instead of living off pawning off the prized family collection of solid gold chamber pots. Now will you please let me get on with it in peace."
"How dare you you filthy little blood traitor!" Malfoy shouted, cheeks going pale as snow in anger. "I'll show you magic!" His wand was out... then it was sailing out of his hand to smash loudly against the far wall. The excited murmuring from the younger years cut off abruptly and even Clementia Yaxely, the only prefect in in the Common room was no longer looking at the scene in exasperation, but shock and a particularly Slytherin sort of interest before returning to her work.
"You shouldn't draw your wand in here Draco," Flora Carrow said, somehow keeping her customarily flat tone of voice, taking a small step towards Ginny. "Who knows
who you might hit." That the threat was lacking in subtlety could perhaps be forgiven. She was after all only eleven years old.
"I'd take that advice if I was you Malfoy," the prefect called out, her soft voice clearly carried by the echoes in the room. "Otherwise I may start hearing and seeing things over there. You wouldn't like what I'd do then."
That was the closest anyone had come to scolding Malfoy all year. That it was on account of a blood traitor would set the House abuzz for many days to come.
"I have a spare quill in the dormitory," Hestia offered, getting up herself. As the three girls walked down the serpentine stairway deeper into the dungeon she asked in a whisper. "Gold chamber pots?"
"Toilets are such a
Muggle invention don't you know." Ginny answered, imitating Malfoy's drawl to the muffled giggles of her yearmates
OOC: Gloriana is Malfoy's pretentiously named owl.
