Ginny woke with a dull ache in her head, the chill of the Chamber of Secrets seeping into her bones. She pushed herself upright, her eyes catching on a Pensieve and a vial of silvery memories lying beside it. "What happened?" she murmured, her voice echoing softly in the vast chamber.
As she stood up, a crimson howler rose into the air, its edges fluttering slightly before opening. Unlike the usual shouting tirade of howlers, this one spoke in a calm, unspecific male voice.
"Your memories of Hallowe'en have been stored in the vial beside you," it began evenly. "The time between leaving the library with Hermione at 14:23 and joining Fred and George Weasley at 17:14 has been removed."
Ginny frowned, her mind already analysing the voice. It wasn't anyone she recognized, but the flat, impersonal tone seemed intentionally altered. A realization clicked into place - this was likely her own voice, masked by the Voxmutatio charm. But why would she have gone to such lengths for this? A simple letter would have sufficed.
The message continued, unbothered by her growing confusion. "The Memory Charm was cast while speaking the word 'Obliviate' in Lockhart's voice, modified using the Voxmutatio charm. This memory - the sound and sensation of being obliviated - was then inserted into the time gap."
Ginny's brow furrowed as she processed the explanation.
"Your mission, agent Weasley, should you choose to accept it," the voice continued and Ginny couldn't help but chuckle while the flicker of deadpan amusement that crossed her face. Of course, she would make herself laugh even in this bizarre situation - quoting Mission Impossible. 'Agent Weasley' did sound kind of cool, though.
Anastasia never liked Alexander's 'dad jokes' in her past life - they had never had children, but she still referred to Alexander's humour that way.
"...is to frame Lockhart together with Harry Potter today. For this, you will get him to confess that he killed Hermione Granger while Harry Potter listens under his Invisibility Cloak. Then, reflect his Memory Charm back at him with Protego Mentis."
She had devised this plan after the Auror's interrogation in McGonagall's office. Just because she couldn't remember the Ritual of Rebirth she had planned for Hallowe'en - or Hermione Granger's death - didn't mean she couldn't deduce the truth.
The logic was simple: Granger must have been the human sacrifice necessary for the ritual. Ginny didn't remember the act itself, but the facts and circumstances were undeniable.
"You can use the memory of leaving the library with Granger, being obliviated in Lockhart's voice and joining the Weasley twins in the Gryffindor common room to distract Dumbledore. Since all parts of it are genuine and the transition between them - the feeling of being obliviated - is also authentic, it should withstand any scrutiny."
Ginny focused inward, reviewing the Hallowe'en memories through Occlumency. They felt entirely real, seamlessly corroborating the story of Lockhart obliviating her. Still, she knew she would need to examine them meticulously later to ensure there were no subtle inconsistencies.
"The vial containing the actual memories of Hallowe'en, along with a Pensieve from the Room of Requirement, is next to you. You can restore the original memories after the meeting with Dumbledore."
This method was a tactic occasionally employed by those seeking to evade magical justice and the true reason why most old wizarding families kept Pensieves. Using a Pensieve, obliviated memories previously stored in a vial could be seamlessly restored to the mind. Many wealthy Death Eaters, when given the chance to prepare before arrest, stored their incriminating memories in vials and then obliviated themselves. This allowed them to proclaim their innocence under Veritaserum and additionally Aurors could neither extract nor present any damaging memories in court. However, this strategy had its flaws. It failed for those whose crimes were corroborated by other Death Eaters testifying under Veritaserum and the complete absence of memories spanning days or weeks often aroused suspicion too.
"Handing over the memory of Hallowe'en to Dumbledore should be avoided," the howler advised, "but it might be worth the risk if it alleviates his suspicions about you. The prepared memory is primarily a safety precaution."
Ginny nodded to herself. She agreed. There was always the possibility of some method she didn't know about that could expose her.
"…As always, should you be caught or killed, the Ministry of Magic will disavow any knowledge of your actions," the howler continued, clearly mimicking the dramatic tone of spy films. Ginny rolled her eyes. Obviously… the Ministry had nothing to do with this. "Good luck, Agent Weasley. This message will self-destruct in five seconds."
Ginny couldn't help but smile wryly. The whole Agent Weasley and Mission Impossible shtick was a bit ridiculous but amusing in its own way. Her humour faded as the howler burst into flames, leaving nothing but ash. The seriousness of the situation hit her again like a weight settling on her chest.
This wasn't a game. If things went wrong today, she wouldn't just fail - she would die. She had no illusions about her chances in a direct confrontation against Dumbledore. Her entire life hung on a knife's edge.
One path led to freedom - living as Ginny Weasley, free from suspicion and the shadows of her past. The other path led to capture, exposure and the loss of everything she had worked so hard to gain. Now that she finally had a body after decades trapped in the diary's void, she couldn't lose it all. She wouldn't.
With her resolve firm, Ginny left the Chamber of Secrets and made her way to the deserted classroom where she had agreed to meet Harry. It was Sunday - a week since she'd told him she remembered Lockhart casting the Memory Charm. Today, they would catch Hermione's killer, she thought sardonically.
The corridor was eerily silent as she slipped inside the classroom, closing the door softly behind her. A shimmer in the air caught her eye and a moment later Harry emerged from beneath his Invisibility Cloak. He looked both nervous and determined.
Ginny made herself look a bit scared yet determined, like a brave little girl confronting peril. "Harry," she whispered, moving closer to embrace him.
She was unexpectedly soothed by Harry's warmth, her nerves calming in a way that almost annoyed her.
When they eventually parted, Harry's expression remained tense and anxious, his worry almost tangible.
"Are you all right, Harry?" she asked, feigning concern. "You seem nervous. If you want to back down…" She let her voice trail off, knowing full well he wouldn't. Offering him a way out would only make him dig in his heels.
"I'm fine," Harry replied quickly, though his tone betrayed him. "I'm just… worried. What if I don't stun him properly? Or something else goes wrong?"
His words reminded her of something important. She hid her smile as she silently cast a wandless Compulsion Charm on him, weaving it carefully into his subconscious. The charm was subtle, designed to heighten his fear for her safety when Lockhart would cast his Memory Charm, and nudge his aim slightly off when he cast his first Stunner.
Compulsion Charms were never overtly powerful - just slight nudges to the subconscious - but for something as small and specific as this, they were perfect. Their near undetectability was also a key advantage. Of course, it wasn't foolproof, but she didn't need perfection. She just needed Lockhart to cast the Memory Charm. Without it, she couldn't reflect it back at him with Protego Mentis.
She nodded to Harry, her expression composed. "Don't worry," she said softly. "We've got this."
The confrontation with Lockhart afterwards had gone according to plan and finding Professor McGonagall to inform her of everything while feigning the uncertainty of a Gryffindor first-year coming down from an adrenaline rush was executed flawlessly.
McGonagall was clearly displeased that they had put themselves in such peril. Since Hermione's death, she seemed to have grown more protective of 'her lions', perhaps carrying a sense of guilt for what had happened. She understood, however, why Harry and Ginny, in their grief, would take such risks. Reading between the lines, Ginny inferred that McGonagall likely assumed it was all Harry's doing. After all, a model student like Ginny Weasley wouldn't typically engage in such recklessness. This perception was nice, though not particularly crucial.
The best part, however, had been watching McGonagall's reaction when Ginny relayed Lockhart's fabricated confession: That he had killed Hermione and obliviated Ginny in a bid to bolster his fame. The professor's fury had her slipping into a thick Scottish accent, her words sharp and biting. The sight was both amusing and satisfying. It helped that McGonagall immediately believed her story - Lockhart's erratic behaviour since Halloween had no doubt raised suspicions with her too.
Ginny briefly wondered if a glance into McGonagall's mind might confirm this, but she didn't dare attempt Legilimency on her. It wasn't worth the risk.
The initial part of the confrontation with Dumbledore went as anticipated. Ginny managed to have Harry recount everything that transpired with Lockhart, which served multiple purposes: It would make their story more credible in Dumbledore's eyes, frame it as primarily Harry's initiative and keep her out of the direct scrutiny while explaining, thus reducing the risk of her making a mistake.
She also anticipated Dumbledore might request the memory of the confrontation and she was keen on avoiding that herself. Therefore, having Harry do the explaining was strategic. It would likely lead Dumbledore to ask Harry for the memory instead.
Of course, she'd never expected the memory alone to be sufficient evidence to convict Lockhart before the Wizengamot. The old lords of the pureblood houses were keen on maintaining stringent evidentiary standards for court proceedings. They were always scheming against one another and if circumstantial evidence like this could lead to a murder conviction, then suddenly, numerous memories of confessions under the influence of the Confundus Charm or the Imperius Curse might surface, with the accused conveniently having lost their memories.
It also gave her the opportunity to plant the seeds of distrust toward Dumbledore in Harry's mind - a long-term plan. Ginny had decided months ago, even before Christmas, that she would keep Harry close if she survived today. She wasn't entirely sure why his presence mattered to her so much...
It wasn't just his usefulness, though she knew that played a part. But now wasn't the time to dwell on such thoughts. What mattered was that she couldn't afford to have someone close to her who trusted and took counsel from Dumbledore. Harry should trust only her, and no one else.
What truly shocked her - and this was most definitely not part of the plan - was Dumbledore asking for her memory of Hallowe'en. Why would he want it? Did he suspect her of lying? Worse, did he suspect her of having a role in Hermione's death?
She was profoundly grateful she'd prepared the fake memory in advance. And to think she had almost dismissed the idea, believing it too paranoid. But no - there was no such thing as too much paranoia. Moody was right: Constant vigilance!
Still, why did Dumbledore want to see the memory? Could he uncover something she'd overlooked, some subtle detail that might expose her? She had reviewed the fabricated memory dozens of times and found nothing incriminating. But it was too late to worry about that now. Her breath hitched slightly as she watched Dumbledore extract the silvery strand from her temple.
What did Dumbledore mean when he said this was for her own good? Was it merely an attempt to placate the clearly upset Harry or was there something deeper behind his words? Ginny watched Dumbledore thoughtfully as he placed the silvery strand of memory into the Pensieve. Meanwhile, Harry stood nearby, his expression caught between lingering anger and a wistful longing as he stared at the shimmering memory.
"What's wrong, Harry?" she asked softly, her voice carrying the perfect blend of concern and gentleness. The supportive, caring girl who stood by her best friend - that was the role she couldn't afford to let slip, not while Dumbledore was watching.
Harry hesitated, his guilt evident as he shifted on his feet. "It's just…" he began, his voice faltering. He glanced at her, then quickly looked away. "I really would've liked to see Hermione. Just one last time."
His words hung in the air, heavy with longing and self-reproach. He was clearly wrestling with his emotions, torn between his own desire and his perception of her feelings. She knew what he was thinking: That the last memory she had of Hermione before being obliviated of witnessing her death must be a source of deep trauma. In Harry's mind, asking to view that memory would be a form of betrayal - a wound reopened. Yet, he also didn't want to lie to her.
Ginny stepped closer to Harry and wrapped her arms around him in a comforting hug. She leaned in just enough to whisper softly into his ear, "It's okay… I don't mind."
After a brief moment, she pulled away and addressed Dumbledore, her voice hesitant and tinged with uncertainty. "Headmaster, can two people view a memory at the same time? If so…, could you take Harry with you?" She cast her gaze downward as if grappling with conflicting emotions. The persona she wore was one of a girl torn - someone reluctant to share such a memory, but willing to offer her best friend the closure he desperately sought.
Dumbledore regarded her with a kind yet solemn expression before turning his attention to Harry. "Yes, Miss Weasley, that is possible," he replied gently. With a slight nod of approval, he gestured for Harry to join him.
Together, they leaned over the Pensieve, the silvery surface rippling as they plunged into the memory, leaving Ginny alone with her thoughts.
While Harry and Dumbledore were immersed in the Pensieve, Ginny sat alone in the stillness of the headmaster's office.
She noted with some relief that Fawkes was absent. According to everything she'd read, a phoenix's song struck fear into evil people. But what did that even mean? Was evil defined by actions - having done terrible things, regardless of the reasons? Or by intent - taking pleasure in the suffering of others? Maybe it was simpler, tied to the sheer weight of dark magic one had used. Ginny didn't have answers and that uncertainty made her uneasy. She didn't delight in pain or cruelty, but she had killed Hermione and the original Ginny and was constantly manipulating the people around her. She'd done it because she had to, but necessity didn't erase the act itself. Would that be enough for Fawkes's song to affect her? She wasn't eager to find out.
To keep her mind from wandering too far into such uncomfortable introspection, she glanced around the office. Now wasn't the time to lose herself in philosophical debates about right and wrong.
She needed to stay in character.
What would a normal thirteen-year-old Gryffindor girl feel and do in this situation? Likely, she would be nervous, waiting for the headmaster's verdict and perhaps distracted by the strange, fascinating trinkets and artifacts scattered around the room.
Adopting the persona, Ginny allowed a flicker of nervousness to cross her face whenever she glanced at the Pensieve, where Dumbledore and Harry were still reviewing her fabricated memory. To further sell the act, she turned her attention to the various magical objects that decorated the office.
The former headmasters and headmistresses in their portraits were still all pretending to sleep, their frames filled with the soft rustle of fabric and slow, even breaths. Ginny didn't believe the act for a second. They were undoubtedly watching her, noting every move to report to Dumbledore later. Just sitting still and stiff might appear suspicious, so she leaned into what she imagined a restless Gryffindor would do: Fidget, explore and let curiosity lead her.
Her gaze roamed the room, from the spindle-legged tables covered in books and parchment to the delicate silver instruments puffing smoke and whirring faintly. A collection of magical objects, clearly from different cultures, caught her attention - a wooden mask that looked African, a boomerang with faintly glowing carvings, and a few smaller artifacts whose purposes she couldn't guess.
Rising cautiously from her chair, she moved closer to examine the items. One object in particular drew her eye - a hand-carved, wooden figure about eight inches tall, resembling a tribal effigy. The figure's body was crafted from dark mahogany, its intricate inlaid patterns of silver and turquoise pulsing faintly with magic. Its face was an unsettling blend of human and animalistic features and its small gemstone eyes - perhaps lapis lazuli - seemed to follow her every move. The figure wore a miniature cloak woven from bark fibres and feathers, giving it an earthy, almost mystical presence.
Ginny hesitated, then cautiously reached out to touch the doll. The moment her fingers brushed its surface, the gemstone eyes flared with a vivid glow. A cold, invasive sensation swept over her, as if the figure was peering directly into her mind and soul. Alarmed, she tried to pull away, but she found herself frozen in place, her body and magic unresponsive to her will.
After what felt like an eternity, the figure's carved mouth creaked open, and it spoke in a language she didn't recognize. Its voice was low and melodic, each word vibrating with an ancient power.
"Hániʼ Kʼehgo Chin Bąąh Ádin."
The words sent a shiver through her, their meaning eluding her mind but leaving an ominous impression deep in her chest.
"Ginny! Are you okay?!" Harry's panicked voice cut through the haze and suddenly she could move again. Her body jerked into action as she turned toward him. Harry stood near the Pensieve, looking alarmed as he hurried over. Behind him was Dumbledore, his expression calm but with a telltale glint in his sharp blue eyes.
"Ah, Ginevra," Dumbledore said smoothly, his tone warm but probing. "I see you've taken an interest in one of the magical artifacts I've collected. This one was a gift from Hastiin Yazzie, a Navajo wizard, many years ago."
Ginny forced her lips into an apologetic smile, willing her voice to sound small and sheepish. "I'm so sorry, Headmaster - I didn't mean to touch it. I just… it was so curious. It said something in a language I didn't understand."
She glanced at Harry, offering him a shy, reassuring smile, even as her thoughts churned furiously. How could she have been so careless? Touching a magical object, she knew nothing about in Dumbledore's office, of all places! Her pulse raced. Was it nerves that made her slip?
Dumbledore inclined his head, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than she liked. "The language you heard was Diné bizaad, the Navajo language. The Diné people are a remarkable Native tribe, partially aligned with MACUSA, though they retain significant autonomy. I am not fluent myself, but the phrase it spoke roughly translates to 'mental cleanness' or 'a clean mind'."
Ginny felt a cold dread settle in her stomach, heavier than lead. This was no accident. She had been set up! The artifact's placement and her inexplicable lapse in judgment - it reeked of design.
Dumbledore must have placed her under a Compulsion Charm without her noticing. Had her Occlumency shields slipped, while he was in the Pensieve? She wasn't sure, but she couldn't let her suspicions show.
Feigning polite curiosity, she asked, "What kind of artifact is it, Headmaster? What does it do?"
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, the expression maddeningly unreadable. "A fine question, my dear. This particular artifact is called a Spirit-Seer Doll. It is used to detect possession."
So that was indeed his game. He knew about the diary. He must have extracted the truth from Lucius Malfoy somehow - Legilimency, Veritaserum or perhaps a coerced confession. It hardly mattered how. What mattered was that he'd just tested her.
Inwardly, she was very grateful for her paranoia again. Creating the decoy diary a week ago had felt excessive at the time, but now it vindicated the old saying: It's not paranoia if they're really out to get you.
"Well, the good news is that everything seems fine with the memory - Ginevra's memory was indeed erased by a Memory Charm. Your Occlumency skills are quite impressive, if you managed to salvage anything from that," Dumbledore praised. His words sounded genuine, but Ginny remained sceptical.
She knew better than to trust anything Dumbledore said at face value. In her mind, every word from him was either a calculated deception or a carefully laid trap.
"I must confess, I was concerned that, rather than being affected by a Memory Charm, you might have been influenced by a certain dark object," he added, giving her a pointed look.
Ginny feigned understanding of Dumbledore's pointed gaze, expertly mimicking shock and embarrassment, while her Occlumency kept her thoughts calm and controlled beneath the surface. "I see, Professor," she murmured in a quiet, almost timid voice.
Her mind raced. Should she show that she knew he had manipulated her into touching the doll? He knew she was intelligent - pretending naivety could seem suspicious, but confronting him might make her come across as paranoid. Why would an innocent girl with nothing to hide be paranoid?
His comment about the Memory Charm suggested he initially suspected her involvement in Hermione's death, perhaps thinking she was possessed by the diary, but now he seemed to have reconsidered or at least entertained other possibilities.
"What's going on, Headmaster?" Harry cut in, his confusion evident. "What dark object are you talking about?"
"Ah, Harry, my boy, I'm afraid I must speak with this lovely young lady privately. Would you mind waiting outside for a moment?"
"What!? Why?" Harry was clearly reluctant to leave Ginny alone. Ginny herself was uncertain if she wanted Harry to leave - what if his presence was the only thing keeping Dumbledore from attacking her or using some form of magic against her?
Still, she needed to appear cooperative. She had nothing to hide. She would hand him the decoy diary, stick to her rehearsed explanation and hope for the best.
"It's all right, Harry," she said softly, flashing him a small, reassuring smile. "I'll be fine."
Harry didn't look convinced, but after a long moment, he reluctantly nodded and stepped toward the door.
"I suppose you already know about Tom Riddle's diary, don't you?" Ginny began softly, after Harry left, her voice trembling as she fiddled with the hem of her robes.
"Yes, Lucius Malfoy confessed that he placed this dark artifact among your school supplies. Truly a horrible act…" Dumbledore said, his voice tinged with sadness. Ginny had to feign shock, so she did exactly that.
"What!? Why would Lucius Malfoy give me this diary?" Her eyes widened, mouth agape, her breathing uneven. She knew she should be entirely convincing. She had spent countless hours in front of a mirror perfecting various expressions and movements since she acquired this body. It wasn't arrogant to believe her acting skills were second to none.
"Regrettably, it was a ploy to harm your family, specifically your father," Dumbledore explained, his voice soft with sympathy. "You see, due to recent raids for dark artifacts in several pureblood homes, Lucius Malfoy tried to rid himself of some dangerous items. The diary that Tom gave him seemed to be one of the most dangerous to him..."
Ginny feigned confusion, her brow furrowing as she looked at Dumbledore. "Lucius Malfoy knew a Muggle-born? I thought he was a bigoted Death Eater?"
Ginny played the part of the confused innocent, feigning ignorance. Sometimes, pretending not to know something could make others feel superior and less threatened by you. Strangely, people found it easier to trust someone they believed knew less than they did.
"A Muggle-born? Is that what the diary told you?" Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling with that familiar knowing gleam. "No, he was not a Muggle-born. You might have heard of Tom Marvolo Riddle under a different name: Voldemort."
"V... You-Know-Who... You're telling me I was writing in a dark object created by You-Know-Who!" Ginny feigned panic, simulating a near nervous breakdown. She shivered, clutching her hands together, her gaze fixed on the ground, repeating "No..." over and over.
Dumbledore, looking completely convinced, offered her a potion - blue and brown in colour - clearly a Calming Draught. Ginny considered the potion for a moment, well aware that he could very well have slipped her Veritaserum, but the colour of the brew was difficult to alter. She accepted the potion with a quiet thank you, her expression grateful as she sipped it.
Of course, Ginny had remained calm throughout their conversation, her Occlumency shields firmly in place, but now she could speak to him without the need for over-the-top dramatics.
"So, Ginevra, dear, can you please tell me in detail about the diary?"
Ginny nodded numbly and started her explanation, maintaining a facade of slight distress, just believable enough for someone under the influence of a Calming Draught.
"The diary is in my trunk. I haven't written in it since September, when I started to suspect it might have a Compulsion Charm on it. That was one reason I began training in Occlumency. A week before Halloween, I first thought it might be a dark object. I can bring it to you if you want. I haven't managed to destroy it yet. I've tried the Severing Charm, the Fire-Making Spell, the Vanishing Spell and many other spells, but the diary's defences are strong, even after using several Counter-Spells... I didn't know it was a dark object when I brought it to Hogwarts, I swear! I thought it was like a magical painting – just an object where a talented Muggle-born put his knowledge to help other students. Tom seemed so nice, you know. If you want, I can go get it..."
Ginny let her words tumble out in a somewhat disorganized fashion, pretending her thoughts were scattered. The act was deliberate - while the Calming Draught had its effect, it wouldn't organize the thoughts of a child on the verge of a panic attack, struggling to piece everything together.
"That won't be necessary," Dumbledore replied smoothly, not missing a beat. "Hooky!"
A dignified-looking house-elf appeared with a slight bow.
"Hooky, could you please bring us a black diary from Miss Weasley's trunk? The one with the name T. M. Riddle on it?" Ginny didn't miss the fact that Dumbledore was aware of this detail. Whether he had learned this from Lucius Malfoy or by observing her, she couldn't be sure.
"Yes, master, at once!" the elf said with a deferential nod, disappearing in an instant.
Moments later, the decoy diary lay on Dumbledore's desk. Ginny was thankful for leaving all dangerous items in the Chamber of Secrets. If it was that easy for house-elves to retrieve things from students' trunks, there seemed to be no wards in the dormitories preventing such actions.
"Will you be able to destroy it, Headmaster?" Ginny asked, her voice laced with feigned hope. She knew full well he could, given the protections she had placed, but she remained in character.
Of course," Dumbledore replied, his tone warm but measured. "But I would like to study it first, if you don't mind."
Ginny shook her head, pretending to be relieved to be rid of it.
"But why didn't you speak to a professor about this sooner?" Dumbledore continued, his tone gentle but probing. "I'm sure Minerva or I could have helped you much earlier."
Ginny hesitated, pretending to be embarrassed. "I... at first, I didn't want anyone to know I had an object that helped me with lessons and homework. And later, I didn't want to admit I brought a dark object to Hogwarts…" She paused, glancing down at her hands. "Will I be expelled for this?" she asked quietly, her voice tinged with fear.
"No, my dear," Dumbledore said reassuringly, his eyes twinkling with the slightest hint of amusement. "Much older and wiser wizards have been manipulated by Tom. I won't blame you for this... but please, trust others more in the future, alright?"
Ginny nodded gratefully, then pretended to remember something.
"Sir, can I ask you a question?"
"You just did, my dear," Dumbledore replied, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "But feel free to ask another one."
Ginny smiled shyly, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. She hated his smugness, but she kept up her façade.
"The Spirit-Seer Doll..." she began, her voice soft and hesitant, "I felt drawn to it. Was this your doing?"
She had decided it would be unnatural not to mention it. Additionally, she planned to tell Harry about this to further drive a wedge between him and Dumbledore later. She was also genuinely curious if he would admit to it.
It was still challenging to get a good read on Dumbledore. He was undeniably intelligent, cunning and wouldn't hesitate to manipulate a first-year student with mind magic if it served his purpose. But his motives and ultimate goals - those remained elusive.
Especially concerning Harry. She had already decided to convince Harry of the narrative of a manipulative Dumbledore - how he left Harry with the Dursleys to endure abuse only to later swoop in as a saviour, how he might have orchestrated Harry's encounter with Voldemort over the Philosopher's Stone and his possible intent to mould Harry into a sacrificial pawn.
These were the tropes Ginny had read about in various fanfictions in her past life and while she suspected they might be exaggerated or untrue in this universe, she couldn't dismiss them entirely. Part of her remained uncertain, not fully sure what the headmaster was truly after.
"Yes, I must confess, to my shame, that I placed a Compulsion Charm on the doll to ensure you touched it. But you must understand, I was concerned that you might have been possessed by a dark object. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive this old man," he said, his voice tinged with sorrow. Ginny wasn't fooled by his act.
"Of course, Headmaster. I understand," she replied, her voice soft. "You thought I was in danger… I was just curious."
"I'm so glad you understand, my dear," he said warmly. Then, with a twinkle in his eyes and an almost mischievous smile, he added, "Why don't you go and calm young Harry down while I take care of this?" He gestured to the diary. "He's been pacing nervously in front of the gargoyle, worried about you."
Ginny faked a giggle, then turned and exited the office, feeling a sense of relief.
She had survived.