Disclaimer: I do not own anything of the Harry Potter world that honor rests with J.K. Rowling, but original characters are mine please rate and review

Author's Note (June 30th, 2014): To sort of celebrate the one year anniversary of this story, I went back and re-mastered Chapters 1 and 2 to my current writing level. Also I'm starting a little contest where the reader that catches the most references to other fanfictions and series, such as movies, television shows, books, etc. within the current chapters up until the end of Goblet of Fire will receive either a sneak peek of a later chapter or a character cameo of their choice in a later chapter or sequel. PM the ones you get and the winner will be announced when the final chapter of Goblet is posted. May the odds ever be in your favor.

Chapter 1: Late Night Visit

Ginny Weasley woke with a start and cold sweat, breathing heavily. Looking around she took comfort from the fact that she was in the Hospital Wing and not the cold Chamber of Secrets. Even the thought of the chamber brought everything that had happened down there freshly to her; Riddle – no, Voldemort – coming out of the diary and Harry rescuing her by killing the Basilisk and destroying Voldemort's diary.

Rubbing her eyes to wipe away any tears that had escaped, she shifted in her bed and tried to fall back asleep, but the memories kept rising up in her mind, tormenting her. While the other students had been feasting and were now lying in their comfortable beds, she was being forced to relive everything that had happened that year. She had thought she would miss not being with the others, but found she only wanted solitude to give her time to rebuild her shattered emotions.

Flashes of killing Hagrid's chickens and writing on the walls with paint surfaced and she shut her eyes to try and stop the barrage. But even with her eyes closed, she saw Colin's shocked face as he faced the basilisk, saw Hermione lying on the ground, her eyes cold and a mirror in hand. Worst of all, she could hear his laughter ringing in her head. She couldn't stop the tears from leaking through her closed eyelids and she hated herself for it. Most importantly, she hated him for turning her into such an emotional wreck.

'If only I hadn't been so stupid to trust him,' she thought to herself. 'I should have known better than to trust him, but he seemed so nice. I just wish I had realized sooner so no one would have been hurt or Harry wouldn't have had to risk his life to stop me.'

'Silly girl,' his voice said in her head. She tried to shut her eyes tighter to keep the memory from rising, but she couldn't stop it.

'You poured too much into me, Ginerva,' Tom had said. She had staggered back, dropping the diary as his voice echoed through the Chamber. 'Too much of your soul and secrets.'

'What do you mean?' she had said aloud, her vision starting to grow a little hazy.

'I should be thanking you in a way,' Tom's voice continued. 'You have assisted me in the greatest way possible.'

'What?' she had muttered confused.

'You'll see,' he had chuckled coldly. A black and white light erupted out of the diary at that point and she felt her heart race from fear as Tom slowly rose out of the diary. He had been just as black and white as the light had been, but color slowly seemed to be fading in.

'That's impossible,' she had whispered, feeling suddenly very tired.

'Power lets one do anything, young Ginerva. It can even allow a memory to take shape,' Tom had stated coldly. 'It is the purpose for those of you who are . . . weaker than others to be stepping stones in our search for power and greatness.'

'But that's wrong,' she had protested weakly.

'The pursuit of power is everything,' Tom said quietly. 'If you were more powerful, you may have been able to capture the love of Harry Potter. He will never love someone as weak and pathetic as you. "Oh Tom, Harry never notices me what can I do to get his attention? Dear Tom, I can't seem to pluck up the courage to talk to him, do you have suggestions?" It sickened me to no end.'

'But, you were my friend,' she cried, even weaker than before.

'Then let me show you what I truly am,' Tom laughed coldly. Then he bombarded her with his memories, memories of horrifying things he had done to the students of Hogwarts. He always made sure to wipe their minds or use his friends to protect his reputation of being the model student.

'Now you see the real me, dear Ginerva.' Tom smiled.

'Who are you?' she had whispered, her eyesight flickering. The strength in her legs had fled her at that point and she collapsed heavily to the stone floor.

'You don't need to know, Ginerva, my sweet,' Tom whispered. He bent down and slowly caressed her cheek as she had just witnessed him doing to countless other girls. 'All you need to know is that I'm going to kill Harry Potter.'

'No!' she had tried to yell, but it came out a pitiful whisper. 'Don't kill him, he's never done anything to you.'

'On the contrary, Ginerva, he has done everything to me,' Tom had hissed in her ear. 'You're going to die down here, but your death will allow me to rise again. To thank you for that, I give you the solace of knowing you will never see Harry Potter die as you soon will be gone.'

'No, please . . . don't . . . kill . . . him,' she struggled to say as her consciousness had faded away.

Ginny knew now why Tom had been so cruel and evil, he had been Voldemort all that time. He had been offering her "advice" all year and keeping her secrets, but he had just been feeding off her misery and weakening her soul to strengthen himself. As the tears fell freely now, Ginny wished she had never received that diary, wished that she could wipe all the horror away, wished she could just be a little girl in her dad's arms again. She could never go back to that though, her childhood was over at the age of eleven and nine months. She curled in on herself, tears still flowing, wanting nothing more than to be held and comforted by someone who could make the nightmares stop.

Through her quiet crying, she heard the creak of the Hospital Wing door. Quickly wiping her eyes, she sat up in time to see the door close, but no one was there.

"Hello? Who's there?" she whispered.

Soft footsteps approached her bed, but still she couldn't see anyone. An indent appeared on the edge of her bed as something sat down there. Hands appeared and she moved back as far as she could, but the hands just moved up and suddenly Harry was sitting on her bed, holding a shimmery cloak.

"Sweet Merlin, Harry, you scared me," Ginny whispered hoarsely.

"Sorry," Harry said sheepishly. "Just thought you would like some company; I know what it's like to face him."

"I really don't want to talk about it right now," she said, turning her head.

"That's fine," Harry said. "What would you like to talk about?"

"Where did you get an Invisibility Cloak?" she asked, turning back to face him.

"It was my dad's, Dumbledore gave it to me last year," Harry answered, holding it out to her.

Ginny took it slowly, running her fingers through the material, letting it calm her slightly. It felt like water moving over her hands.

"It's amazing," she said. "This is how you and Hermione smuggled that dragon out last year, isn't it?"

"That, and a few other activities," Harry said with a small grin. Ginny handed him back the cloak and he folded it on his lap.

"Thank you for coming Harry," she whispered so softly Harry could barely hear her.

"You would do the same for me, we're friends, Ginny," Harry said with a small smile. To Ginny, it meant the world and more that he considered them friends.

They stayed silent for a few minutes before Ginny asked, "How do you do it?"

"Do what?" Harry asked confused.

"Stay so strong after facing . . . him," she said with a shudder, the tears threatening to fall again as another memory flashed through her mind of him.

"I'm not sure," Harry admitted, turning thoughtful. "Maybe . . . it's because I know what my parents would do and I take strength from their example. Maybe it's because he's evil and someone needs to stop him."

"But aren't you ever afraid?" she whispered.

"I'm always afraid when I face him, but it's not letting the fear control me and protecting the people I care about that keeps me going."

"But… how?"

Harry smiled and quoted what Hogwarts, A History listed as the Gryffindor motto. "True courage isn't the absence of fear; it's acknowledging that you're afraid and doing what needs to be done in spite of it."

She stared at him. "Then I wish I could be as brave as you, Harry. I just . . . I keep flashing back . . . to the Chamber . . . and I blame myself," Ginny said breaking down and sobbing.

"It wasn't your fault," Harry replied a bit harshly, and, startled, she stopped sobbing. "Like Dumbledore said in McGonagall's office, Voldemort has fooled far older and more experienced wizards and witches."

"But . . ." she started to say, but Harry interrupted her.

"But nothing. How were you supposed to know Riddle was Voldemort? I wrote in the diary too, Ginny, and he seemed nice enough. I even thought he helped me by showing what happened the night Myrtle died, but that was his trap. Voldemort lies to and manipulates everyone. He just didn't count on Ron and I talking with Hagrid to confirm the story."

"But that proves you didn't trust him completely," Ginny said. "You didn't pour your heart out and let him know your secrets. You didn't let him control you."

"You didn't let him control you," Harry argued. "He manipulated you, tore apart your emotions and isolated you from everyone. That wasn't your fault, that was his plan and no one could have stopped that."

"If I had listened to my father about enchanted objects, nothing would have happened," Ginny sniffed, rubbing her eyes again to stop more tears.

"You saved me though, Ginny," Harry said, changing his argument.

"What? How?" she asked bewildered.

"By stealing the diary back, you stopped Riddle from gaining a foothold in me," Harry stated. "You knew what it would mean, I think by that point, but you did it anyway."

"No, I still had no clue," she said, a sob catching in her throat. "I stole it back because I was terrified he would tell you what I had told him."

"Riddle told me in the Chamber that you knew something was wrong though," Harry countered. "You threw the diary away in Myrtle's bathroom when you started to suspect you were causing the attacks."

Ginny had no answer to this except to lower her head.

"Ginny . . . would it help if I told you my side of how this year went? Not just what I explained in McGonagall's office, but everything else too." Harry asked her quietly.

Ginny slowly looked up into Harry's green eyes.

"Maybe it will help you," he said even quieter.

Ginny just kept looking into his eyes, her throat constricting slightly but she nodded yes.

"When all of this started, I thought I was going crazy. I was in Lockhart's office, answering his bloody fan mail for my detention when I heard a voice in the wall. He couldn't hear anything, but I certainly could. It was the basilisk moving through the pipes for the first time in fifty years. I told only Ron and Hermione about the voice, and they agreed with me that I shouldn't tell anyone else as hearing random voices couldn't be a good sign.

"On Halloween, Ron, Hermione and I were at Nearly Headless Nick's deathday party and I heard it again. I chased after it and we found Mrs. Norris and the first message. Malfoy and the rest of the school arrived and you know what he said. We were so certain it was him, so bloody certain it was Malfoy who was the Heir of Slytherin, especially after Colin was attacked. The rest of the school, as you know, thought it was someone else."

"You," she whispered.

"Yeah, me," Harry sighed. "Speaking Parseltongue at Lockhart's Dueling Club scared everyone, so many jumped to the assumption that I was the Heir of Slytherin."

He looked at her with understanding as he continued.

"I know what's it like to be isolated . . . alone, Ginny. I've been alone almost my whole life, but to be shunned by the entire school except for Ron and Hermione and your brothers . . . it hurt Ginny. Finding out Malfoy wasn't the Heir left us drifting in the dark, but nothing happened until. . ."

"Until Hermione and Penelope were attacked," she said.

"I think that was Riddle trying to hurt me more, attacking one of my best friends, but it sort of backfired," Harry mused. "It just gave me more motivation to solve the mystery and proved to the school I wasn't the Heir since I would never attack my friends. This last week involved everything coming to a head: confronting Hagrid, following the spiders to Aragog, discovering where the Chamber was, everything. When you disappeared, I knew what had to be done. Ron and I got Lockhart and we came after you, but there was that cave-in and I was left, alone, to save you.

"Finding you just lying there, looking as close to death as one can get scared me, Ginny. I'll admit I was scared that we had lost you, even before he confronted me. For the third time in my life, I faced Lord Voldemort and I thought he had me this time. I couldn't fight the basilisk and he knew it, he gloated about it and claimed he was greater than anyone else alive."

"No, he's not," Ginny whispered.

"I countered that Dumbledore was the greatest wizard and it was my faith in good and loyalty to a great man that saved us. Fawkes appeared with the Sorting Hat, and at first I had no idea what to do while Fawkes blinded the basilisk. I thought maybe the Sorting Hat could help in some way, anyway, and it dropped the Sword of Gryffindor on my head."

Ginny couldn't help herself but giggle at that and Harry had to chuckle as well.

"It hurt," he pretended to pout before he became serious again. "Even with the sword and the basilisk blind, I didn't think I could win. But I wasn't going to die without trying my bloody hardest to save you and stop him. Even after the basilisk was dead, I thought it was too late, you were even paler and only would last a few moments longer and I had a basilisk fang in my arm. Fawkes helped with the venom, but I was too weak to physically take on Riddle. Then Riddle does what he always does, he assumed he had won. Taunting me that you were about to die and he preferred it this way, I don't know, something snapped and I wanted the satisfaction of beating him one more time."

"So you stabbed the diary with the fang," Ginny whispered.

"Yeah, had no idea if it would work, but it was worth a shot and it turned out fine in the end," Harry chuckled. "I even freed Dobby the house elf from the Malfoys, although I made him promise never to try and save my life again after the Bludger almost killed me."

As Harry finished his story, Ginny couldn't help more tears forming in her eyes. It seemed the flood just wouldn't stop that night. She was amazed by the lengths Harry would go to protect those he cared about, and was touched deeply by Harry including her in that protection. It gave her hope that she could break her shyness around him and actually live up to the title of being a friend of his.

"Harry," Ginny whispered, "thank you for telling me all of this."

"If it helps you, Ginny, it's my pleasure," Harry said with a supportive smile.

"And . . . thank you for saving me," she continued.

"It was nothing," Harry said, brushing it off as if it wasn't a major thing, "anyone would have done what I did to save you."

'No,' Ginny thought, 'not everyone would have done what you did Harry. You're too modest to admit that what you did was something that will be remembered for a long time.'

Taking a deep breath, Ginny said, "Harry, I don't think you quite know what you saved me from."

"I saved you from him, Ginny," he said, a bit confused by what she meant.

"Not just that, Harry," Ginny said, taking another deep breath to steady herself. The nightmares and memories tried to force their way up, but she found she had the strength to ignore them with Harry's example. "When Riddle came out of the diary, he forced some of his memories into my head to torment me. Some were of him torturing or maiming animals, even killing them. One memory was a first year he had bullied and cursed so bad, they broke down and had to be taken to St. Mungo's. Others were of some poor girls . . . that he . . . he . . ." she couldn't finish that sentence, the idea was horrifying.

Harry's eyes had darkened somewhat. He had thought it impossible that he would find any more reasons to hate Voldemort with every part of his being, but he had been wrong.

"Are those memories still in your head?" Harry asked quietly in a restrained voice.

Ginny nodded, her eyes tearing up.

Harry remained silent, but his hands had balled into fists and he was shaking slightly.

"Harry?" Ginny concernedly asked, "Are you alright?"

"I always knew that monster was evil, but I never imagined he was just as twisted during his school years," Harry said in cold whisper that made Ginny shiver.

"You being here and being an example helps," she said quietly.

Harry looked at her and placed a hand over hers. Ginny felt a swooping in her stomach and a warm, tingly feeling traveling through her hand.

"I'm sorry I wasn't that much of a friend before, but I promise Ginny, I'll be always be there from now on."

The intensity of his gaze was shaking Ginny to the core. It wasn't a romantic gesture as she knew he didn't feel that way towards her, but it was the look of someone making a pledge of loyalty and she had to wonder if this what Hermione had meant when she said Harry would always be there for his friends.

A clock chimed loudly, announcing it was very late and both Harry and Ginny jumped from the sound.

"I should be getting back to Gryffindor Tower before anyone notices I'm not in bed," Harry said apologetically. "Snape and Filch are probably on the prowl and I don't want detention until the end of term and I doubt they would accept the excuse that I was here to comfort you, Gin."

AS Harry started to get up from her bed, Ginny lunged forward and hugged him tightly. Harry, not used to spontaneous displays of affection, awkwardly returned it.

"Thank you, Harry," she whispered into Harry's shoulder.

"Uh . . . anytime . . . Gin, um . . . well . . . yeah, I should go," Harry stuttered, his serious demeanor gone. He got up, carrying his cloak, but as he reached the doors, he turned around. "If you ever need anyone to talk to about . . . well anything, I'll always be willing to listen. You are my friend after all."

He threw his cloak over his shoulders and disappeared from sight. The Hospital Wing door opened and closed with a creak.

Ginny slumped back against her pillow, letting out a slow sigh and closing her eyes.

'He considers me his friend, but all I've ever done is squeak and embarrass myself around him. Well no more of that, it's time for Harry Potter to know the real Ginny Weasley,' Ginny thought.

'Silly girl,' Tom's voice rose up in her head. 'He will never love someone as weak and pathetic as you.'

'I'll show you, Tom, you can't keep a Weasley down,' Ginny said, dismissing the memory.

As she started to fall back to sleep, she sat bolt upright for a second.

"Did he call me Gin?" she wondered aloud. "He called me by a nickname, but why?"

Letting her mind study that, she drifted to sleep, her nightmares being held at bay by dreams of being closer to Harry.

Dumbledore's Office

Dumbledore was pacing back and forth in his office slowly, the night's events weighing heavily on his mind. Harry had come face to face with Voldemort for a second time in two years and had successfully delayed his return to power, and the old man had to admit he was proud of the way Harry had handled himself tonight.

Fawkes let out a low trill as he passed by his stand.

"Yes, my friend, it was a trying time for young Ginerva, but I suspect she will be more determined than ever," he chuckled.

Fawkes let out another trill and Dumbledore was nodding sagely to it.

"Harry is certainly growing into a fine young man, I wish he had more time for a childhood, but the prophecy seems to be determined that he and Tom should fight."

That did bring up a worrying chain of thought. How had Tom possessed Miss Weasley with the diary? He had examined it for any trace of several old spells that allowed long distance possession, but he had found nothing on the remains of the diary. He highly doubted a memory could have caused all of this trouble, even though Dumbledore knew memories could destroy people.

"What did you use, Tom?" he muttered, stopping at his desk and peering down at the diary again. The basilisk venom had completely destroyed any chance of discovering what the diary might have been, but Dumbledore had his suspicions.

He was almost certain the diary had been something far more sinister, far more useful to Tom than a memory container, but what could it be.

"Revelacion," he muttered and the diary seemed to glow black for a moment before returning to normal.

"Too damaged to be sure, but Tom . . . why?" Dumbledore sighed sadly. It would explain everything, but he needed further proof that Tom had created a Horcrux, or, Merlin forbid, more than one.

"Time will tell, my friend, time will tell," Dumbledore said to Fawkes, stroking his plumed head, and the phoenix let out a sorrowful note.

Turning, Dumbledore walked to the window in his office and saw a small blur heading at high speeds toward the school. The blur quickly resolved into a bird and Dumbledore just barely opened the window as the bird swooped in and landed on his desk.

He had never seen such a bird before in all his travels, the scarlet plumage on its head didn't seem to match its large gray and white body. The bird stuck its leg out and he removed the letter attached to it. The bird promptly took flight and soared out of the window, streaking away into the dark.

"Who could have sent this?" Dumbledore wondered aloud as he opened the letter.

He read the first line and the letter dropped from his hand to flutter to the floor.

"After all these years, you're returning, old friend," he chuckled. The chuckle soon turned into full laughter as he realized things would definitely be changing in Britain then.

Off the coast of Great Britain, near the port of Portsmouth

"So that's Great Britain?" a young girl asked an older man.

"Yes, that will be where we are staying for some time," he replied.

"It looks positively lovely," a younger girl said happily. Her hair was pulled back by a flowered headband so it would cascade around her shoulders and bounce when she got excited, like now.

"Plenty of history to read about, excellent," an even younger girl said, looking from up a book she was holding.

"Don't you think of anything besides reading?" the bubbly girl asked.

"Let me think . . . no, sister," the book-holding girl said sarcastically.

The two young girls started bickering back and forth, as younger siblings are prone to do. Their older sister just sighed and looked up at the sky.

'What a beautiful night to gaze at the stars,' she thought to herself.

The moonlight slid along the deck of the ship as it passed from behind a cloud. As it did it passed across the small party, and started to glint and gleam off a small stone hanging from the older girl's necklace. The sparkle continued even after the moon disappeared behind another wispy cloud, the stone hinting at mysteries and events that were about to unfold.