After a bit more meticulous planning, meticulously outlining the next steps in her carefully constructed scheme, Ginny finished fastening her robes. The constant, buzzing presence of magic, now an ever-present hum at the edge of her perception, was still a nuisance, but she was slowly, agonizingly, learning to filter it. She returned to her dormitory, the familiar scent of old parchment and wood comforting in its familiarity, and then made her way to the Gryffindor Common Room.
Rhona MacLean, the sensible fifth-year prefect with her straight black hair and eyes that mirrored her younger sister Aileen's, was already at her post, diligently distributing timetables to the bewildered first-years. "Good morning, Ms. Weasley. Did you enjoy your first night at Hogwarts?" Rhona inquired, her voice polite and even.
"Yes, I found it quite pleasant, thank you," Ginny replied, her voice smooth and demure, a stark contrast to the calculating mind behind the innocent facade. She casually accepted the parchment, her eyes quickly scanning the schedule: "Double Transfiguration first thing in the morning with Slytherin, and Charms with Ravenclaw after lunch. Then, Flying Lessons and History of Magic." A perfect balance of academic pursuits and opportunities for subtle manipulation.
Pocketing the parchment, she slipped out of the Common Room. A quick, silent Tempus spell from her wand confirmed the time: 7:32 AM. Just over an hour before classes began. As she made her way towards the familiar, hidden entrance of the Room of Requirement – her personal sanctuary for private studies and strategic planning – she brought up her status screen, a habit she had quickly adopted.
Name: Ginevra Molly Weasley Race: Witch Magic: 5.9 Body: 0.7 Spirit: 5.8 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)
The numbers were steadily climbing, a testament to her deliberate practice and the foundational knowledge gleaned from Riddle. Magic and Spirit were particularly impressive, almost six times the average first-year. And then there was "Magic Perception," a constant, humming reminder of her enhanced senses. She closed the screen, a satisfied smirk playing on her lips. She was progressing faster than anticipated.
The next hour flew by in a blur of focused practice. By the time she arrived at the Transfiguration classroom, the room was already filled with a mix of Gryffindor and Slytherin first-years. Professor Minerva McGonagall, severe and precise, stood before them, her spectacles perched on her nose. The air in the classroom crackled with anticipation, a subtle magical aura she could now sense distinctly.
"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," McGonagall announced, her voice crisp and authoritative. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back."
Ginny listened intently, but her mind was also racing, applying her new knowledge to the principles McGonagall was explaining. When the professor demonstrated the matchstick to needle transfiguration, Ginny's hand shot up, a subtle challenge in her eyes. McGonagall, accustomed to the eager hands of Hermione Granger, paused, a flicker of surprise crossing her stern features.
"Yes, Ms. Weasley?"
"Professor, if we were to incorporate a more precise understanding of the object's molecular structure, wouldn't the transfiguration be more stable and less prone to reversion?" Ginny asked, her voice innocent, yet her words carried a weight of understanding far beyond her years.
A hush fell over the classroom. McGonagall's eyes narrowed slightly, a hint of suspicion mingling with reluctant admiration. "An astute observation, Ms. Weasley. Five points to Gryffindor."
Throughout the class, Ginny continued to excel, effortlessly transforming her matchstick into a gleaming needle. While other students struggled with warped, charred, or still-wooden attempts, Ginny's needle was flawless, reflecting the light with a sharp, metallic sheen. She even managed to incorporate a subtle anti-reversion charm, a silent testament to her advanced understanding.
As the class drew to a close, McGonagall, now in her tabby cat Animagus form, gracefully leaped onto her desk, observing the departing students. Ginny, a sudden mischievous glint in her eyes, paused. She knelt beside the desk, her hand reaching out, and gently, deliberately, stroked the sleek, striped fur of the Animagus. The cat, McGonagall, stiffened for a moment, a barely perceptible tremor running through her form, before a faint, involuntary purr rumbled from her chest.
Ginny straightened up, a tiny, almost imperceptible smirk playing on her lips, and began to leave with her roommates, Aileen and Gwen. "Another 10 points to Gryffindor for Ms. Weasley's exceptional transfiguration work," McGonagall's human voice suddenly cut through the departing chatter. "And before I forget, another 5 points to Gryffindor for Ms. Weasley's correct recognition of the animal form of an Animagus."
Ginny, who had been happily chatting with Aileen and Gwen, nearly stumbled. She turned back to find Minerva McGonagall, now in her human form, giving her a strangely knowing, almost smug look. "Your face was too straight, Ms. Weasley. Next time you should consider acting a bit more natural when petting a cat."
"Y-Yes, professor," Ginny squeaked, a genuine flush creeping up her neck, and then high-tailed it out of the classroom, her roommates staring at her in bewilderment.
As soon as they were out of earshot, Aileen and Gwen simultaneously spun on her, their faces contorted into expressions of disbelief and a hint of horrified awe. "What?!" Ginny asked, genuinely startled by the intensity of their glares.
"You knew?!" Gwen gasped, her eyes wide.
"And you petted her anyway?!" Aileen demanded, her voice a mixture of outrage and something akin to admiration.
"Yes?" Ginny replied, a touch of genuine confusion in her tone.
"That's the bravest (dumbest) thing I've ever seen done!" both Aileen and Gwen exclaimed at the same time, their voices echoing off the stone walls.
"Merlin's Beard, Aileen," Gwen continued, "she knowingly petted Professor McGonagall in her cat form! Replace her with a Dragon and the danger will only decrease!"
"And that's why it's brave!" Aileen shot back.
"No, it's stupid! A death wish!"
Before their bickering could escalate further, Ginny interrupted, a curious glint in her eyes. "But did it feel good?"
The two girls looked at each other, then back at Ginny, a sheepish, almost dreamy expression on their faces. "Yes!" they chorused.
Ginny's internal monologue smirked. 'Two for the Dark Side!' The thought was half-jest, half-truth. She had found a perverse enjoyment in the reaction of her roommates, a growing fondness for their spirited personalities. Perhaps, in her pursuit of power, she could make room for these two. They were, after all, "so adorable."
"We should head to Charms early," Gwen suggested, her voice a little breathless from their hasty departure from Transfiguration. Aileen, still giggling at Ginny's audacious petting of Professor McGonagall, readily agreed. Ginny, who felt there was little she could accomplish in the remaining fifteen minutes before class, simply nodded her assent.
They found the Charms classroom already open, a bright, airy space filled with the faint scent of lemon and old books. Unlike the stricter Transfiguration class, Professor Flitwick did not assign them seats, allowing them to settle together in a comfortable row. Gwen and Aileen immediately launched into a lively discussion about Quidditch. Aileen, it turned out, was a fervent Quidditch fanatic, an ardent supporter of the Tutshill Tornados. Gwen, while not as obsessed, still possessed the average witch's enthusiasm for the sport, enough to engage in hours of spirited conversation. The original Ginny, a devoted fan herself, would have fit seamlessly into their animated chatter.
The new Ginny, however, merely observed. She marveled at the almost muggle-like fanaticism these witches and wizards displayed for what she perceived as a "pointlessly dangerous game." Her analytical mind immediately latched onto the inherent imbalance: the Snitch. It held far too much weight, almost entirely disrupting the delicate equilibrium of the game. If a Seeker caught the Snitch quickly enough, the efforts of the other players—the Chasers, Beaters, and Keeper—became utterly irrelevant. They might as well rename it "Snitch-Catching: The Competition." While she appreciated sports, Quidditch simply failed to capture her interest.
Duelling, on the other hand, was another matter entirely. That, she acknowledged, was the wizarding equivalent of boxing or other martial arts, a true test of skill, strategy, and raw magical power. The prospect of mastering the art of magical combat stirred a deeper, more primal interest within her.
The diminutive Professor Flitwick, a charming and enthusiastic man, eventually bustled into the classroom, his booming voice surprisingly deep for his size. "Good day, everyone! A perfect day for learning a new spell: the Levitation Charm!" he announced, his eyes twinkling. He then launched into an amusing anecdote about the charm's eccentric inventor, Jarleth Hobart, and his ill-fated public demonstration.
Ginny listened, absorbed not just in the story, but in the underlying magical theory. Hermione Granger, seated a few rows ahead, diligently took notes, her quill scratching furiously. Ginny's initial assessment of Hermione was that of an ambitious, hardworking, and undeniably intelligent witch. However, as Flitwick proceeded to teach the Wingardium Leviosa charm, Ginny noticed a critical flaw in Hermione's approach. While Hermione had a formidable grasp of theory and an impressive ability to memorize, she lacked a fundamental understanding of how magic truly flowed, of the subtle nuances that differentiated a rote incantation from a truly effective spell. It was the same gap Ginny had begun to bridge with her own assimilation of Riddle's knowledge and her burgeoning magical perception.
As the class progressed, Ron, predictably, struggled with the pronunciation of "Wingardium Leviosa," earning a sharp correction from Hermione. Ginny watched the scene unfold with a detached amusement, a part of her almost relishing the subtle torment Hermione inflicted on her brother. When it was their turn to practice, Ginny effortlessly levitated her feather, making it dance and twirl with an elegant precision that drew the attention of both Flitwick and Hermione. Aileen and Gwen, however, were more interested in levitating Gwen's tiny pouch, their attempts resulting in sporadic, jerky movements. Ginny, with a subtle smirk, offered a few "helpful" tips, knowing full well they wouldn't fully grasp the underlying principles. "Dark Side +1!" she thought, a mischievous glint in her eyes. The idea of teasing little girls, of subtly influencing their world, was surprisingly enjoyable.
Later, as she walked into the dormitory, she found Ron, Fred, George, and Harry already there, huddled in what looked like a serious discussion. Ron looked at her as if she had grown a second head. "Why are you looking at me like that?" Ginny asked, genuinely surprised.
"He'd be less surprised if you had grown one, dear sister. After all—" Fred began, but George cut him off, his eyes wide.
"You just tamed Mini-McGonagall!" George exclaimed, both twins looking at Ginny with a completely new light in their eyes.
"Hmm," she shrugged noncommittally. "She's always had it in her. I just had to bring it out." She chatted with them for a while, deftly deflecting their curious questions about her sudden, inexplicable confidence, before excusing herself to the dormitory.
After she was gone, the three Weasleys and Harry looked at each other. "She's changed, she has," Ron murmured, a thoughtful frown on his face.
"Yeah, she isn't as nervous around Harry as before," Fred added, a hint of concern in his voice.
"No, she wasn't nervous at all," George corrected, his eyes narrowed. "Something happened that day that she's not telling us."
A tense silence fell over the four of them. After a short while, Ron broke it. "At least she's not as silent as before." All four nodded in agreement. Fred looked at the others. "Should we tell Mum? Or Dad?"
Harry, ever the loyal friend, spoke up. "She'll tell us when she's ready, I think. We should just wait for her to tell us by herself. Till then, we'll support her from the side."
"We should tell Mum, though," George countered.
"Agreed," the others nodded, a shared understanding passing between them. Harry felt a warmth spread through his chest, knowing that despite not being related by blood, they considered him nothing less than family, including him in such a personal discussion about their sister. Ginny, unaware of the quiet concern she had ignited in her family, was already in her dormitory, planning her next move, her internal monologue a mix of cold strategy and a peculiar, growing affection for the unsuspecting people around her.
"Haa~" A stifled yawn escaped Ginny's lips as she stirred, her eyes fluttering open. A moment of disorientation washed over her as she took in the unfamiliar surroundings – the scarlet and gold drapes, the four-poster beds, the lingering scent of old magic. "Oh yeah, I'm at Hogwarts now," she mumbled, a wry smile touching her lips.
Her Magical Perception, now almost fully integrated into her senses, was a persistent, subtle hum, acting like a natural alarm clock. The castle itself, waking with the dawn, stirred with its own inherent magic, and her heightened sensitivity picked up on it immediately, pulling her from the depths of sleep. It was 7:00 a.m., according to the Tempus spell she cast. "Bit of an early bird, are you?" she grumbled, glaring good-naturedly at the ancient stone walls, miffed that Hogwarts' magic had decided her sleep was over. She gave the offending wall a light, playful kick, a small act of rebellion, before deciding to spread the misery. "It's a proven fact that a human doesn't feel so miserable if others are suffering along with them," she mused, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she turned to her sleeping roommates.
"Wakey, wakey~ Aileen!" she chirped, shaking her roommate gently.
Aileen merely murmured in her sleep, "Just one more minute, mum... I need to win this game for the Tornados..." before slipping back into slumber.
"Now that won't do," Ginny whispered, a sinister grin spreading across her face. "You can't be allowed to sleep so blissfully when I'm awake and unhappy, can you?" An idea sparked, brilliant and wicked. "Goodness! The Hogwarts' Faculty has decided that we first-years should experience a real, honest-to-goodness magical creature! And look, they've brought in a special guest for us to meet before breakfast!" she announced in a loud, stage-whisper, her voice imbued with a feigned excitement. "They're bringing in a... a Nargle!"
Aileen shot upright, her eyes wide with curiosity. "A Nargle?!"
"And for you, Gwen," Ginny continued, turning to the other sleeping girl, "they have a special surprise! A real-life... Crumple-Horned Snorkack!"
Gwen, who had merely groaned at the first announcement, now sprang awake, her eyes alight with an almost manic enthusiasm. "A Crumple-Horned Snorkack?! Where?!"
Ginny burst into laughter, a clear, unrestrained sound that echoed through the dormitory. "You two are so gullible! There's no Nargle or Snorkack!" she managed between fits of giggles. The unadulterated joy of teasing her unsuspecting friends warmed something in her chest, a stark contrast to the calculating coolness that often defined her thoughts. She found genuine pleasure in their reactions, a lightheartedness that was a welcome respite from the heavy weight of her grand ambitions.
After they had all dressed, still grumbling about Ginny's prank, they made their way to the Great Hall. Ginny, however, took a slight detour, her destination the Room of Requirement. She had another artifact to assimilate. This one, unlike Riddle's diary, was not an Horcrux, but a powerful magical item: Rowena Ravenclaw's Diadem. It was said to enhance the wearer's wisdom and intellect, a tempting prospect for someone on a quest for ultimate power.
She found the diadem, nestled amongst forgotten relics, a dusty, unremarkable circlet that pulsed with ancient, ethereal magic. "Assimilate," she commanded, the word a whisper that echoed in the silent chamber. The diadem shimmered, its faint glow intensifying, then dissolved into a brilliant stream of light that flowed into her, filling her with a cold, clear logic, a profound understanding of complex ideas, and a connection to centuries of accumulated knowledge.
The assimilation was far less painful than the diary's, a gentle absorption rather than a violent consumption. When it was complete, she immediately checked her status screen.
Name: Ginevra Molly Weasley Race: Witch Magic: 6.2 Body: 0.7 Spirit: 6.0 Innate Abilities: Assimilate 1/3 (regen: 1/year (Total: 7/decade)), Parseltongue, Magic Perception, Superior Logical Processing Unit (0/1) 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)
"Superior Logical Processing Unit (0/1)." Her eyes fixated on the newly acquired innate ability. She concentrated on the words, and a sudden, comprehensive understanding flooded her mind. "Leave it to Rowena to make the world's first Biological Chip a whole millennium before the concept even appeared among the muggles!" she exclaimed, a mixture of exasperation and profound excitement. "What a woman!"
This new ability was more than just enhanced intelligence; it was the capacity for hyper-cognition, the ability to process information at an accelerated rate, to understand complex theories with unprecedented speed. It was a perfect complement to her burgeoning magical power.
With a surge of anticipation, Ginny attempted to activate "Superior Logical Processing Unit." Just as she thought nothing would happen, a heavy wave of vertigo washed over her, sickening and disorienting. Her knees buckled, and the world spun. Before she could register another thought, darkness consumed her, and she collapsed to the ground, unconscious.
When Ginny's consciousness slowly returned, her face found itself in an intimate, somewhat uncomfortable, embrace with the cold, hard stone floor. "Ugh," she groaned, pushing herself up with a weary effort. A dull ache throbbed behind her eyes, a pervasive weakness permeated her entire being as if her limbs were suddenly cast from lead, and her mind felt sluggish, a far cry from its usual sharp, precise processing. Even her heightened Magical Perception, normally a constant, vibrant hum, was now a mere whisper, muffled and distant. It was the antithesis of the invigorating surge she felt after assimilating Riddle's diary and Ravenclaw's diadem. It was as though her very essence, her stats, had plummeted.
To confirm her grim conjecture, she shakily brought up her status screen.
Name: Ginevra Molly Weasley Race: Witch Magic: 3.8 Body: 0.6 Spirit: 3.9 Innate Abilities: Assimilate 1/3 (regen: 1/year (Total: 7/decade)), Parseltongue, Magic Perception, Superior Logical Processing Unit (1/1) Skills: Cooking Lv.3 (4/4000), Flying Lv.5 (121/16000) Magicks: Enchantment Lv.7 (63806/64000) Transfiguration Lv.7 (63997/64000) Dark Magic Lv.9 (1001000/1024000) Mind Magic Lv.6 (29800/32000) ...
Sure enough, the core stats of Magic, Body, and Spirit had indeed taken a nosedive. A frustrating, yet logical, conclusion presented itself. This wasn't a permanent decrease, but rather "Magic Exhaustion," a debilitating consequence of overtaxing her nascent "Superior Logical Processing Unit." It was a powerful tool, but it came with a significant cost. Her brain, she reasoned, was still too young, too undeveloped, to handle the immense strain of hyper-cognition for extended periods. It was a learning curve, a limitation she would have to respect.
From that day forward, Ginny implemented a strict regimen. She would only activate her "Superior Logical Processing Unit" once a day, in the dead of night, after her roommates had drifted off to sleep. This allowed her to rapidly digest and commit to memory the vast amounts of information she absorbed throughout the day.
Her days settled into a productive, if somewhat peculiar, rhythm. Her homework, once a minor consideration, became a mere formality, completed with astonishing speed and precision. She dedicated time to her roommates, Aileen and Gwen, finding genuine amusement in their lively chatter and playfully teasing Gwen, whose reactions were always delightfully dramatic. She also spent time with the Golden Trio – Harry, Ron, and Hermione – observing their interactions with a keen, analytical eye, and occasionally joining Fred and George in their mischievous escapades. She had, almost accidentally, become an honorary member of their 'gang' of pranksters, offering them ideas that, unbeknownst to them, were merely future pranks they would eventually devise themselves.
However, the bulk of her waking hours were spent in the Hogwarts library, a sanctuary of knowledge that Hermione, in her relentless pursuit of academic excellence, heartily approved of. Ginny devoured tome after tome, immersing herself in every branch of magic she could find. One might question the necessity of such rigorous study, given that she had already assimilated Riddle's prodigious expertise in magic. It seemed redundant, a waste of precious time.
But Ginny had come to a profound realization: the importance of developing her own unique understanding of magic. Every witch and wizard, she had observed, possessed their own distinct way of casting spells, a method that was inherently best suited to their individual magical core and personality. As she diligently attended her classes, truly comprehending the professors' lessons, and drawing her own conclusions – which, incidentally, often diverged significantly from Riddle's innate understanding – she discovered that her own magic became remarkably more responsive, more pliable, than when she relied solely on Riddle's assimilated knowledge.
It was through this phenomenon that she concluded: no matter how brilliant or powerful a wizard was, if they did not cultivate their own intrinsic understanding of magic, they would forever remain tethered to a finite potential. True mastery lay not in simply inheriting knowledge, but in making it truly her own.
Just like that, days cascaded like a gentle river, merging into weeks, until the ominous shadow of Halloween drew nigh, a night of ancient magic and hidden dangers. Ginny, armed with newfound knowledge and a growing awareness of her own immense power, felt a thrilling sense of anticipation. The calm before the storm.