The Hogwarts Express may be magical, but it’s still just a train. Crowded, noisy, and filled with that weird smell of chocolate frogs and cat hair. I spent most of the ride pretending to listen to Pansy and Draco while secretly itching to get my hands on Tom’s diary. Ever since he told me who he really was, I couldn’t stop thinking about him—about what he represented, about the promises of greatness he made me feel were within reach.
But all that could wait. For now, we had a Sorting Ceremony to sit through, and I had a sister to watch awkwardly shuffle her way to the front of the Great Hall.
“Weasley, Ginny,” McGonagall called.
Ginny looked like she was trying to decide whether to faint or throw up as she made her way to the stool. I watched her closely, trying to imagine what was going through her head. This was the same kid who used to follow me around the Burrow like a shadow, always looking up to me, always wanting to be included. And now she was here, at Hogwarts, about to figure out who she’d become.
The Sorting Hat took its time, which was unusual. Ginny sat there, the brim of the hat covering her eyes, and for a moment, I wondered if it might actually put her in Slytherin.
Then the hat shouted, “GRYFFINDOR!”
The Gryffindor table erupted into cheers, and Ginny practically ran to join them, her face redder than her hair. I caught Ron giving her an enthusiastic thumbs-up, which she pretended not to notice.
“Well, that’s boring,” Draco muttered next to me. “Imagine anouther Weasley in Slytherin. That would’ve been hilarious.”
I didn’t bother responding. Something about the Sorting felt… off. But I didn’t have time to dwell on it. The feast began, and Tom’s diary was burning a metaphorical hole in my bag.
The next morning, the Great Hall was buzzing with the usual first-day excitement: students catching up on summer gossip, first-years nervously glancing at their schedules, and the ever-present clatter of goblets and plates. I was halfway through my toast when Ginny slid onto the bench across from me.
“Morning,” she said, her voice a little hesitant.
I raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with your Gryffindor fan club?”
She frowned, poking at a piece of toast. “I wanted to talk to you.”
That caught me off guard. Ginny never sought me out unless she needed something, like help with homework or advice on avoiding Mum’s wrath.
“What’s up?” I asked, trying to sound casual.
Ginny glanced around, then leaned in slightly. “Can you keep a secret?”
I snorted. “Depends on the secret.”
She gave me a look, and I sighed. “Fine. Yes. What’s the big mystery?”
Ginny hesitated, then said, “The Sorting Hat… it almost put me in Slytherin.”
I blinked. “You’re joking.”
She shook her head. “I’m not. It said I’d do well there. That I’m ambitious and clever and… other stuff. But I told it no. I asked to be in Gryffindor.”
“Why?” I asked, genuinely curious.
Ginny looked down at her plate. “Because I didn’t want to disappoint Mum and Dad. Or Ron. They’d never forgive me if I ended up in Slytherin.”
I stared at her, trying to process what she’d just said. Ginny, the ultimate Gryffindor wannabe, had been on the verge of joining my house. And she’d turned it down because she was scared of what people would think.
“That’s stupid,” I said before I could stop myself.
Ginny’s head snapped up, her cheeks flushing. “What?”
“You heard me,” I said, leaning forward. “Turning down Slytherin because you’re worried about what Mum and Ron think? That’s pathetic. You could’ve been great, Ginny. But instead, you chose to be a sheep.”
Her face went from red to white, and for a moment, I thought she might actually throw her goblet at me. But then she stood up, her expression hard.
“Maybe I did,” she said, her voice steady. “But at least I know who I am. Can you say the same?”
Before I could respond, she walked away, her head held high.
Later that day, when I finally had a moment to myself, I pulled out Tom’s diary and told him what had happened.
“She was almost one of us,” I wrote.
His reply appeared almost instantly, the ink sharp and deliberate:
“But she was too weak to embrace it. Not everyone has the strength to choose greatness.”
I stared at his words, my heart pounding. Tom always knew exactly what to say, always made me feel like I wasn’t just another Weasley, another face in the crowd.
“I do,” I wrote back.
The ink swirled across the page, forming his response:
“I know you do, Vipera. And together, we’ll show them what true greatness looks like.”
I closed the diary, a small smile playing on my lips. Ginny might have chosen to be a sheep, but I wasn’t her. I had Tom, and with him, I’d prove that I was destined for something far bigger than any of them could imagine.
TO BE CONTINUED•••
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and then Add to home screen.