Two weeks before Halloween
Ginny's POV
"Excellent work, Miss Weasley!" Professor McGonagall's voice rang across the Transfiguration classroom as Ginny's button transformed into a perfect silverly button detailed with flowery patterns. "Twenty points to Gryffindor for demonstrating such advanced understanding of the theoretical principles."
Ginny felt her cheeks warm as her classmates turned to stare. Around her, most of the other first-years were still struggling to get their buttons to change form with color, let alone achieve full transfiguration.
"How did you do that?" Emma whispered from the desk beside her. "Mine still looks like a button that's been painted badly."
"I just... followed the formula with proper visualization and intent," Ginny said quietly, though the words felt hollow. She knew exactly why she'd succeeded - Tom had been teaching her spending entire evenings, explaining theoretical foundations of transfiguration and other classes, like how matter could be convinced to take new forms through precise magical pressure applied at the molecular level.
[Try looking up Guide to Transfiguration / Amino Apps]
The morning continued much the same way. In Charms, she earned another fifteen points for successfully performing the silent Levitation Charm when helping a falling student, remembering Tom's advice about the specific pronunciation being less important than the clarity of magical intent with proper wand movement. Professor Flitwick had practically squeaked with delight.
"Remarkable! Simply remarkable! It's rare to see such natural understanding in a first-year!"
But it wasn't natural understanding, was it? It was Tom's understanding, borrowed and applied.
Herbology was no different. When Professor Sprout asked about the magical properties of Dittany, Ginny found herself reciting information from Tom's memories of advanced Potions theory - knowledge that shouldn't have been available to a first-year student.
"Another ten points to Gryffindor!" Professor Sprout beamed. "Such excellent preparation, Miss Weasley. You clearly take your studies seriously."
By lunch, Ginny had earned forty-five points for Gryffindor in a single morning. Word had spread through the Great Hall, and she could feel eyes on her from every table. The older Gryffindor students were practically glowing with pride, while some of the Slytherins were shooting her suspicious looks.
"Brilliant work today, Ginny," Percy said when she sat down at the Gryffindor table. "You're really showing what the Weasley name can achieve with proper seriousness."
Colin bounced in his seat beside her. "You were amazing in Charms! I've never seen anyone cast a silent spell!"
But instead of feeling proud, Ginny started feeling sick. Every compliment, every point earned, every impressed look - it all felt like a lie. She wasn't brilliant. She wasn't naturally gifted. She was just a first-year who happened to have access to the memories of one of the most magically talented students Hogwarts had ever seen.
What would they think if they knew the truth? she wondered, picking at her sandwich without appetite. That I'm just a fraud borrowing someone else's knowledge?
The afternoon brought more of the same. Defense Against the Dark Arts with Lockhart was almost comical - the man's incompetence was so obvious that even Tom's memories weren't needed to outshine him. When Lockhart asked about counter-curses for basic hexes, Ginny found herself providing detailed explanations that made the professor look even more foolish by comparison.
"My, my," Lockhart said with his trademark smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Quite the little scholar, aren't we? Ten points to Gryffindor, though I do hope you're getting this information from reputable sources."
The implied criticism stung, even coming from someone as useless as Lockhart. If only he knew how reputable my source really is, Ginny thought bitterly.
AN: I know, right? if only they knew...
By evening, the Gryffindor co,jmmon room was buzzing with excitement. Fifty-five points in one day was exceptional for any student, let alone a first-year. The house point hourglass showed Gryffindor pulling significantly ahead of the other houses.
"Ginny!" Fred called out as she entered the common room after dinner. "There's our little genius!"
"Making the rest of us look bad," George added with a grin. "Though we're proud of you for it."
Before she could protest or escape, she found herself surrounded by a small crowd of well-wishers. Ron clapped her awkwardly on the shoulder, clearly torn between pride in his sister and embarrassment at being outshone.
"Not bad for a first-year," he said, which was practically gushing praise coming from him.
"It was incredible," Hermione said, and Ginny was surprised to see genuine admiration in the older girl's eyes. "Your theoretical knowledge is remarkable. You must have done extensive reading over the summer."
"Something like that," Ginny mumbled, feeling worse with every compliment.
Harry was also standing nearby, looking impressed. "Your brother's been telling us about your flying," he said with that lopsided smile that would've made her stomach flutter when they first met, yet her current misery made it so she didn't feel a thing. "Sounds like magical talent runs in the family."
If only you knew, Ginny thought desperately. If only any of you knew that none of this is really mine.
The celebration continued around her, but Ginny felt increasingly disconnected from it all. Every laugh, every cheer, every proud comment felt like another weight on her shoulders. She was accepting praise for accomplishments that weren't truly hers, taking credit for Tom's knowledge and expertise.
What have I given him in return? The thought hit her like a physical blow. What have I ever done for Tom except take, take, take?
She tried to think of a single thing she'd offered him beyond her friendship. He'd taught her magic, given her confidence, helped her succeed academically, and supported her through every challenge. And what had she done? Written to him about her day like some kind of magical diary service.
He's been trapped in that diary..., she realized with growing horror. I haven't even asked him how many years of darkness and loneliness he must've have been there, and when he finally gets someone to talk to, all I do is take advantage of his knowledge.
"Ginny?" Emma's voice broke through her spiraling thoughts. "Are you alright? You look a bit pale."
"I'm fine," Ginny said quickly, forcing a smile. "Just tired. It's been a long day."
"No wonder, with all that brilliant magic you were doing," Sarah said admiringly. "You'll have to teach us your study methods."
Study methods. If only it were that simple.
As the evening wore on and the celebration finally began to wind down, Ginny retreated to a corner of the common room with her schoolbag. She needed to write to Tom, needed to talk to someone about the guilt that was eating her alive. But how could she explain to him that his generosity was making her feel terrible?
She pulled out her diary, but her hands were shaking slightly as she opened it. For the first time since finding the diary, she felt reluctant to write. How could she face Tom knowing what a selfish friend she'd been?
Tom's POV
I felt the diary opening, but something was different about Ginny's magical signature. Usually, she radiated warmth and happiness when she wrote to me, especially after successful days at school. Tonight, she seemed reluctant... as if... troubled? But why?
Hey Tom, she wrote, but even her handwriting looked uncertain.
Hey yourself, I wrote back, trying to keep things light. A little bird told me that you had an amazing day. Scored points again? That's incredible! Let me guess... 40 points? no, 50?
Yeah. 55 points.
The lackluster response confirmed my suspicions. Something was definitely wrong.
Ginny, what's going on? You sound upset. Did something happen?
No, nothing happened. Everything was fine. Perfect, actually.
Then why do you seem so down? Most people would be celebrating after a day like that.
There was a long pause before she wrote again.
I'm just tired. Long day and all.
I could practically feel her pulling away, putting up walls that hadn't been there before. In the weeks since we'd started talking, Ginny and I had been open and honest about almost everything - from our experiences our fears, the excitement, some of her daily experiences. This sudden distance was completely unlike her.
Ginny, talk to me. You're clearly upset about something. Is it the attention? I know being in the spotlight can be overwhelming.
It's not that.
Then what is it? Come on, we're friends. You can tell me anything.
Another long pause. Then:
I'm really tired, Tom. Can we talk tomorrow?
The dismissal hit me like a slap. In all our conversations, Ginny had never cut things short like this. She usually wrote to me for hours, sharing every detail of her day and asking about everything from spell theory to Hogwarts history.
Are you sure you're really okay? You're acting really strange.
I'm fine. Just need some sleep. Goodnight.
And with that, she closed the diary, leaving me in darkness with a growing sense of unease. Something felt very wrong, and I had no idea what had caused it or how to fix it.
Ginny's POV
Ginny closed the diary with trembling hands, feeling terrible about cutting Tom off like that. But she couldn't face his kindness right now, couldn't bear the thought of him being his usual supportive self when she felt like such a fraud.
She changed into her nightgown mechanically, brushing her teeth and going through the motions of getting ready for bed. But when she finally lay down, sleep was impossible. Her mind kept racing, cycling through the day's events and the guilt that seemed to grow heavier with each passing second.
Fifty-five points, she thought miserably. Fifty-five points that should have gone to Tom, not me.
She tossed and turned for what felt like hours, listening to the soft breathing of her roommates and the distant sounds of the castle settling around them. The guilt was like a physical weight on her chest, making it hard to breathe.
Finally, she gave up on sleep entirely. Maybe some fresh air would help, or at least a change of scenery. She slipped out of bed as quietly as possible, grabbed her dressing gown, and crept out of the dormitory.
The common room was dimly lit by the dying fire in the grate, most of the candles having burned down to stubs. She'd expected it to be completely empty, but as she made her way toward the fireplace, she saw a familiar figure hunched over a pile of books at one of the study tables.
Hermione Granger looked up as Ginny approached, her bushy hair even more disheveled than usual and dark circles under her eyes.
"Oh," Hermione said, looking surprised. "Ginny. I didn't expect anyone else to be awake."
"Couldn't sleep," Ginny said awkwardly. She and Hermione weren't really friends - they knew each other through Ron, of course, and had shared classes, but they'd never had an actual conversation beyond polite greetings.
"Neither could I, obviously," Hermione said with a tired smile, gesturing at her books. "I was reading ahead for Transfiguration. Professor McGonagall mentioned some advanced theory that sounded fascinating."
Of course she was. Hermione Granger, the brilliant Muggle-born witch who earned her success through pure hard work and dedication. Everything Ginny was pretending to be.
"Don't you ever take a break?" Ginny asked, settling into a chair near the fire. The warmth felt good against her cold feet.
"Not really," Hermione admitted. "There's always so much to learn, and I never feel like I know enough."
The comment stung, highlighting exactly why Ginny felt so guilty. Here was Hermione, working herself to exhaustion to prove she belonged in the magical world, while Ginny was cheating her way to success with borrowed knowledge.
They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, the only sounds coming from the crackling fire and the occasional rustle of pages as Hermione continued reading. Ginny found herself studying the older girl, noting the determined set of her shoulders and the way she took careful notes on everything she read.
She earns every point she gets, Ginny thought. Every bit of praise, every achievement - it's all her own work.
"Hermione?" she said suddenly, before she could lose her nerve.
"Mmm?" Hermione looked up from her book, pencil still poised over her parchment.
"Can I ask you something? It's... well, it's about a friend of mine."
Hermione set down her pencil and turned to face her properly. "Of course. What's wrong?"
Ginny took a deep breath, trying to figure out how to explain without giving too much away. "Well, my friend has this other friend who's been helping her a lot. With schoolwork and things. This person has been really generous, sharing knowledge and advice, and my friend has been doing much better because of it."
"That sounds wonderful," Hermione said. "It's nice when people help each other."
"But that's the problem," Ginny continued, fidgeting with the hem of her dressing gown. "My friend feels like she's can't give anything back. This person has done so much for her, and she hasn't been able to help them in return. She's starting to feel guilty about it, like she's taking advantage."
Hermione was quiet for a moment, considering the question seriously. "What kind of help is this person giving? Is it tutoring, or sharing notes, or...?"
"More like tutoring," Ginny said quickly. "Advanced explanations, theoretical knowledge, that sort of thing. Things that have made my friend look much smarter than she actually is."
"I see." Hermione's expression grew thoughtful. "And your friend feels like she's cheating somehow?"
"Exactly!" Ginny said, relieved that someone understood. "She's getting praise and recognition for things that aren't really her achievements... She feels like a fraud."
"Hmm." Hermione picked up her pencil again, twirling it between her fingers as she thought. "Can I ask why this person is helping your friend? Are they getting anything out of it?"
Ginny hesitated. How could she explain that Tom seemed to genuinely enjoy their friendship without revealing too much about the diary? "I think... I think they're lonely. My friend might be the only person they can really talk to."
"Ah." Hermione's expression softened. "So your friend's company is actually valuable to this person, even if she doesn't realize it."
"Maybe," Ginny said uncertainly. "But that doesn't seem like enough. This person is giving her so much practical help, and all my friend is offering is conversation."
"Ginny," Hermione said gently, and Ginny started at the use of her name - they really weren't close enough for Hermione to be giving her advice like this. "Sometimes conversation and companionship are the most valuable things you can offer someone. If this person is lonely, then your friend's friendship might mean more to them than any practical help she could provide."
"But what if my friend wants to do more? What if she feels like she owes this person something beyond just being a friend?"
Hermione was quiet for a long moment, staring into the fire. "You know," she said finally, "I understand that feeling. When I first came to Hogwarts, I felt like I had to prove myself constantly. I felt like I owed the magical world something for accepting me, like I had to earn my place here every single day."
Ginny looked at her in surprise. Hermione always seemed so confident, so sure of herself.
"It took me a while to realize that I belonged here just as much as anyone else," Hermione continued. "And that the friendships I was making - with Harry and Ron, for instance - weren't transactions. They weren't helping me because they expected something in return, and I wasn't helping them to pay off some debt. We helped each other because that's what friends do."
"But what if the help isn't equal?" Ginny pressed. "What if one person is giving much more than the other?"
"Then maybe that person is in a position to give more right now," Hermione said simply. "That doesn't mean the friendship is unbalanced or unfair. Maybe someday your friend will be in a position to help this person in ways she can't imagine right now."
Ginny felt tears prick at her eyes. "What if she never gets that chance? What if this person has already given everything they can, and my friend will never be able to repay them?"
"Well," Hermione said thoughtfully, "has your friend asked this person what they might need? Sometimes people don't realize how they can help until they actually ask."
"I don't think she has," Ginny admitted. "She's been so focused on feeling guilty that she hasn't thought to just... ask."
"That might be a good place to start," Hermione suggested. "And if this person truly doesn't need anything practical, maybe your friend could find other ways to show she cares. Small gestures, thoughtful gifts, just being there when they need someone to talk to."
"But what if they can't receive gifts?" Ginny said, then immediately regretted the slip. "I mean, what if they're in a situation where normal gifts don't work?"
Hermione raised an eyebrow curiously. "That's an oddly specific concern. What kind of situation would prevent someone from receiving gifts?"
Ginny felt her cheeks burn. "I just meant... hypothetically. Like if they were far away or something."
"Hmm." Hermione looked thoughtful. "Well, even if traditional gifts aren't possible, there are always other ways to show appreciation. Spending time with them, sharing experiences, even just making sure they know how much their help means. Sometimes the most valuable gift is simply letting someone know they matter."
"You really think that's enough?" Ginny asked softly.
"I think," Hermione said gently, "that your friend should start by talking to this person honestly about how she feels. Real friends want to help each other figure these things out together."
Ginny felt warmth spread through her chest. "Thank you, Hermione. Really."
"Anytime," Hermione said, already turning back to her books. "Though maybe next time we can have this conversation at a more reasonable hour."
Ginny laughed softly. "Definitely. Goodnight, Hermione."
"Goodnight, Ginny."
As Ginny made her way back to her dormitory, she felt lighter than she had all day. The guilt wasn't completely gone - she still felt the weight of everything Tom had given her. But Hermione's words had helped her see it differently. Maybe the answer wasn't about repaying debts, but about being honest with Tom about her feelings and asking what she could do.
Tomorrow, she decided as she slipped back into bed. Tomorrow I'll write to Tom properly. I'll tell him how grateful I am, and I'll ask him if there's anything - anything at all - that I can do to help him in return.
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Author's Note: SURPRISE M***** f***er!!! so originally was looking what to do and decided to write this chapter, loved doing it, problem is... I did it after the previous one so I had to make another chapter before uploading this one... ya lucky b*st*rds... xd.
Anyway, with love from your dear Author.
Also can someone explain to me what are golden tickets and why do they matter? Also I really need to do other works so I'll just say I'll come back here next week... yeah.... sure....................