The eccentric talking hat's roar of "GRYFFINDOR!" echoed through the Great Hall, a declaration that sealed the fate of another eleven-year-old. Ginny Weasley, or rather, the soul inhabiting her, swiftly pulled the sentient headwear from her scalp. A wave of profound disgust washed over her; the violation of privacy inherent in the hat's emotion-reading intrusion was an affront to her very core. She couldn't fathom how these "wand-waving sheep" tolerated such a blatant disregard for personal boundaries.
Outwardly, she wore a shy, delightful smile, a practiced mask for the public eye, as she navigated the path to the Gryffindor table. Her brothers, Fred and George, were a riot of cheers, their shouts promising an endless supply of Skiving Snackboxes. Ronald, seated beside the legendary Harry Potter, added his enthusiastic voice to the chorus. Across the hall, Hermione Granger beamed, waving excitedly and patting the empty seat next to her, a gesture of assumed certainty that Ginny would join their ranks. Ginny barely registered Hermione's eager chatter as she settled in, her mind already racing.
A growl from her stomach punctuated the end of Dumbledore's rambling welcome speech. "Old man Dumbledore had better be done with his mad blathering as soon as possible. She was famished." The thought was laced with a cynical edge, a stark contrast to the innocent girl she pretended to be. Her gaze swept over the staff table, landing on Gilderoy Lockhart. "Toothpaste commercials will glomp him in a heartbeat!" she mused, observing the starry-eyed girls and the furious glares from the boys. The sheer absurdity of the wizarding world, with its inflated egos and superficial charm, was endlessly amusing.
Later, as the first day drew to a close, a surge of raw, untamed power erupted from Ginny. Mirrors shattered, walls cracked, pipes bent, and tiles flew. She was "flabbergasted" by the sheer magnitude of the wrath and hatred she had unleashed, a force that tore through her dormitory. The sudden, violent magical outburst was both terrifying and exhilarating.
Her family's frantic arrival, their faces etched with concern, was a sharp reminder of the new reality. Molly's comforting embrace, Arthur's worried gaze, the frantic scramble of her brothers and Harry – it all fueled a crushing wave of guilt. Lying to them, seeing their genuine concern, knowing they would spend a significant portion of their meager savings on her check-up at St. Mungo's, twisted a knot in her stomach. The original Ginny's deep love for her family now intertwined with her own sense of responsibility.
She hated the deception, yet she saw no alternative. The knowledge of the enchanted car incident, a future event she intended to prevent to spare Arthur from Ministry trouble, demanded her feigned innocence. She had to protect them, even if it meant burying the truth deep within.
That night, lying in bed, the warmth of their love, mingled with the heavy burden of guilt, solidified a profound decision. "I am Ginevra Molly Weasley and this is my family." The declaration was not just an acceptance of her new identity but a solemn vow. She would embrace this life, protect these people, and turn the tables on the insidious force that had ended the original Ginny's life.
The memory of the black diary, the blinding flash of light, the horrendous, soul-tearing pain – it sparked an intense wrath within her. This anger, born from injustice and a deep-seated desire for retribution, had been the catalyst for the magical shockwave. Ginny knew, with chilling certainty, that Tom Riddle's diary would be her first step on a path to power, a path that would transform her, irrevocably, into something far more formidable than the shy, quiet girl she was supposed to be. And as she plotted, a flicker of something new stirred within her, a nascent, possessive warmth for the genuine affection shown to her, hinting at a future where even a Riddle-like heart could find love
The rich, savory taste of the Hogwarts feast still lingered on Ginny's tongue as she followed the stream of first-years, led by the diligent prefect Rhona MacLean, towards the Gryffindor dormitories. Her new roommates, the effervescent Aileen MacLean and the sweet, slightly nervous Gwen Isolde, chattered excitedly beside her. As she settled onto her designated bed in the quaint dormitory, her sharp eyes surveyed the room. Only three beds. A grim thought flickered through her mind: Voldemort's reign of terror, the chilling echoes of a war against a cruel Dark Lord, must have left its mark on the magical world, discouraging families from bringing new life into such perilous times. It was a logical, if chilling, conclusion, one that reinforced the absurdity and danger of this 'new' world.
But such morbid reflections wouldn't help her grand plans. Before she could properly unpack, an impulse struck her. Her brothers, Fred and George, were notorious for their collection of illicit magical artifacts. And there was one in particular she needed. The Marauder's Map. She knew they would eventually gift it to Harry, a fate she found acceptable, but for now, it was a necessary tool for her own schemes. A playful, mischievous grin touched her lips. She'd repay them, eventually. Perhaps a few dozen Skiving Snackboxes, or a new line of harmless but humiliating pranks for their future shop.
With the map tucked securely in her pocket, Ginny excused herself, murmuring something about wanting to explore the common room. Instead, she navigated the labyrinthine corridors of Hogwarts, her Magical Perception subtly attuned to the ambient magic, guiding her toward a place of immense, untapped magical potential: the Room of Requirement. She had no need for a precise desire; merely picturing a space that could contain and isolate her senses, that could muffle the world, was enough.
The door materialized, swirling into existence from the stone wall, and she stepped into a vast, empty chamber. Here, she could focus, undisturbed. From the depths of her satchel, she retrieved an ordinary, black diary. Its worn cover bore the embossed initials: T.M. Riddle. A malevolent sneer twisted her lips. This was it. The key to her power, the stepping stone upon which she would rise. Riddle, the foolish, arrogant fragment of a soul, destined to be consumed by his own ambition. The irony was delicious.
"Assimilate," Ginny intoned, her voice clear and resonant in the cavernous space. A tremendous force of attraction erupted from her hands, seizing hold of the black diary. Its pages shuddered, then a torrential surge of black mist poured forth, coalescing into the embodiment of a handsome young man. Tom Riddle. His presence brought with it a wave of vast, suffocating magic, tinged with immense malice, hatred, and a violent storm of negative emotions. An ordinary wizard would have been paralyzed, but Ginny, hardened by her transmigration and fueled by her own burgeoning wrath, stood firm.
Riddle's manifestation lunged, his face contorting into the serpentine likeness of Voldemort, his maw open as if to swallow her whole. But he was too slow. The assimilation was already in motion. The diary, the terrible presence, the chilling echo of a haunting cry of resistance – all dissipated into thin air. Nothing remained. The process was complete.
A torrent of knowledge, memories, and profound comprehension of Magicks flooded her mind. It was overwhelming, exhilarating, a direct download of Riddle's expertise. Her head swam with new information, a vast landscape of arcane knowledge. She opened her status screen.
Name: Ginevra Molly Weasley Race: Witch Magic: 5.6 Body: 0.7 Spirit: 5.7 Innate Abilities: Assimilate 2/3 (regen: 1/year (Total: 7/decade)), Parseltongue, Magic Perception Skills: Cooking Lv.3 (4/4000), Flying Lv.5 (121/16000) Magicks: Enchantment Lv.7 (12/64000) Transfiguration Lv.7 (15459/64000) Dark Magic Lv.8 (127029/128000) Mind Magic Lv.5 (2/16000) Wand-Lighting Charm Lv.7 (5776/6400) Levitation Charm Lv.7 (4121/6400)
"More than an adult's," she mused, observing the impressive leap in her Magic stat. Riddle's memories, his understanding of magic's exponential growth, confirmed her suspicions. Five points was not just five times the magic; it was vastly, incomparably more. She now possessed a dueling mastery that could rival most professionals, a chilling gift from the fragmented soul of the Dark Lord.
She practiced. Wand-Lighting Charm, Levitation Charm – they sprang forth with an ease that shocked her. The innate understanding of magic, now her own, flowed through her veins. This was merely the beginning. Her goals were clear: establish herself as a genius, graduate early, and ascend to heights of power that would make Voldemort's ambitions seem quaint.
Back in her dormitory, she cast a Disillusionment Charm, the sensation of the spell washing over her like a cool film. Invisible, she slipped past the vigilant prefects, a phantom in the night. Her roommates, Aileen and Gwen, were already asleep, Gwen purring softly in her dreams. Ginny felt a pang of warmth. Despite the darkness of her aspirations, the ruthless logic now flowing through her veins, a part of her still found them "so adorable." She resisted the urge to pat their heads, a fleeting desire for an innocence she had shed. The path ahead was solitary, but perhaps, just perhaps, there was room for a chosen few within the cold, calculated heart of a burgeoning Dark Lady.
The morning light, filtered through the stained-glass windows of the Gryffindor dormitory, woke Ginny with a jolt. A profound sense of invigoration coursed through her veins, a vibrant energy that hummed beneath her skin, making her feel more alive, more aware, than ever before. It was as if her very being had been recharged, her senses sharpened to an almost unbearable degree.
Opening her eyes, the world unfolded before her with an astonishing clarity. Colors, once merely hues, now vibrated with an intensity she had never perceived. The mundane details of the dormitory – the intricate carvings on the bedposts, the subtle variations in the scarlet and gold tapestries, the dust motes dancing in the sunbeams – all stood out with a vividness that was almost overwhelming. It was as if a thick, dusty veil had been lifted from her eyes, revealing a reality previously shrouded in a dull haze.
But beyond the enhanced sight, beyond the invigorated body, was something far more profound. An omnipresent force, a constant, shifting hum, permeated everything. It swirled around the ancient stone walls, pulsed within the very air she breathed, and shimmered, a living, tangible entity, around every object and living being.
Magic.
The realization dawned on her, not as a thought, but as an undeniable, intrinsic understanding. This was the raw, unadulterated essence of the wizarding world, a force she could now perceive directly, unfiltered by wands or incantations. A thrill, cold and analytical, shot through her. This "Magical Perception," an innate ability she now possessed, was a tool of immense power, a window into the hidden workings of her new reality.
She immersed herself in this newfound perception, letting it expand beyond the confines of her bed, slowly unfurling across the dormitory. It flowed around her sleeping roommates, Aileen and Gwen, whose presence, she noted with a detached yet undeniable fondness, radiated a significantly higher concentration of magic than their surroundings. The magic around them ebbed and flowed, almost like a living aura, shifting with the subtle rhythms of their sleep. Despite her internal monologue about power and manipulation, the sight of their peaceful faces, enveloped in that warm, magical glow, stirred a gentle, almost protective sensation within her.
Testing the limits of this new sense, she extended her perception further, pushing it through the walls, feeling the magical currents of Hogwarts herself. She could sense the magic of the sleeping students in other dorms, the subtle hum of enchanted artifacts in the common room below, even the faint, ancient magic clinging to the very foundations of the castle. It was a dizzying, intoxicating experience.
But the constant influx, the incessant hum of magic, was also deeply uncomfortable. It was like wearing a straitjacket, every movement, every thought, now accompanied by this overwhelming sensation. She experimented, trying to "unravel" her magic from the ambient magic, to pull it back into herself, to dampen the overwhelming input. It was like trying to lift her leg sideways – not impossible, but incredibly awkward and unfamiliar. After several attempts, a nascent control began to form. She could feel her own magic, a distinct entity, slowly retracting, pulling back from the pervasive magical field of the world.
However, the relief was fleeting. The attempt to filter the magical noise also muffled her perception. It was like putting on low-quality earplugs: sounds weren't fully blocked, but distorted into an indecipherable mess. This dampened sensation, while less overwhelming, was frustratingly imprecise. It sucked, she concluded.
She would have to endure this discomfort for now. Her thoughts drifted to the headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. The fanfics she'd devoured in her past life had thoroughly subverted her previous image of him. No longer a wise, eccentric grandfather figure, he was, in her new internal narrative, a twisted, paranoid old goat, wielding too much power, capable of anything for his convoluted notion of the 'Greater Good'. And the Dark Lord Dumbledore fics… well, they had certainly left an impression. She would need to be wary.
"Just be safe, I won't go to the Great Hall for the next few days, until I get a handle on this," she decided, fastening the last button of her school robes. Getting food from the kitchen would be a simple matter with her newfound stealth. She needed to master this ability, to control the torrent of magic, to become a truly invisible force, before she could fully embark on the next phase of her intricate plan. The magic of Hogwarts was now hers to command, but first, she had to learn to silence its overwhelming song.