Ethan read the words slowly.
For several seconds, he didn't write anything.
He had expected insecurity, but seeing it written so plainly was different. Ginny wasn't simply worried about being brave enough for Gryffindor.
She was comparing herself to everyone around her and finding herself lacking.
Ethan knew better than to immediately tell her she was wrong.
People rarely believed compliments when they had already convinced themselves they didn't deserve them.
So instead, he wrote:
*I think you're comparing yourself to everyone else's best qualities while judging yourself by your worst moments.*
Ginny gasped when she read the message. Her fingers tightened around the quill.
*What does that mean?*
Ethan looked at the words.
*It means you're looking at Bill and seeing the Head Boy, but you're not seeing all the times he probably doubted himself.*
He paused before continuing.
*You're looking at Percy and seeing his grades. Charlie and his Quidditch. Fred and George and their ability to make everyone laugh.*
Another sentence appeared.
*But when you look at yourself, you only see the things you're afraid you can't do. Being scared isn't the problem.*
*The problem is believing that being scared means you're incapable of doing something.*
Ginny stared at the words, slowly mulling them over.
She didn't respond immediately, and Ethan could feel her uncertainty through the connection, but there was something else now. She was listening.
*But what if I really am not good enough?*
Ethan considered his answer carefully. He had no intention of turning this into some motivational speech.
If he wanted Ginny to trust him, she needed to believe that his words actually meant something.
So he wrote, *Then don't try to be as good as your brothers.*
Ginny blinked.
*What?*
*You're trying to become someone else instead of figuring out what you're good at.*
She stared at the sentence. No one had ever put it that way before.
Ethan continued, *Bill isn't Charlie. Charlie isn't Percy. Percy isn't Fred or George. None of them became successful by trying to become one of the others.*
Ginny looked down at the page for a long moment before finally writing, *Then what am I supposed to be?*
Ethan smiled faintly.
That was a much better question.
*You.*
For several seconds, nothing appeared on the page. Then Ginny simply wrote:
*... That's not very helpful.*
Ethan almost laughed. There it was. A little bit of personality beginning to emerge beneath all the insecurity.
He wrote back:
*Fair enough.*
Ginny stared at the response, and despite herself, a small smile appeared on her face. It was barely noticeable, but it was the first genuine smile she'd had since arriving at Hogwarts.
Ethan felt the connection between them strengthen again.
He leaned back in his chair and smiled.
'Good.'
This was going to be easier than he had expected.
The conversation flowed smoothly from that point. Ginny slowly became more comfortable, and before long, she was telling Ethan about her family, her first day at Hogwarts, the Sorting, and how strange everything felt compared to the life she'd known at home.
Ethan mostly listened.
Whenever she asked a question, he answered. Whenever she complained, he let her vent without interrupting.
Every so often, he asked another question, encouraging her to keep talking.
The longer they talked, the stronger their connection became.
By the time Ginny finally began struggling to keep her eyes open, Ethan could feel the difference clearly.
The thin thread that had connected them earlier had become something much more substantial.
Ginny yawned and rubbed her eyes before writing one final message.
*I'm tired. I'll talk to you tomorrow.*
Ethan smiled and wrote back:
*Good night, Ginny.*
A moment later, the Diary closed.
The connection didn't disappear.
It simply became quieter as Ginny drifted into sleep.
Ethan remained seated in his chair, staring at the fading magical thread connecting his consciousness to hers.
'Interesting.' The connection had already become noticeably stronger after only a single conversation.
If it continued developing at the same rate, it wouldn't be long before he could exert a meaningful influence over Ginny without her even realising it.
Ethan focused on the connection and slowly followed it back toward its source.
The sensation was strange.
One moment he was inside the Diary, and the next his consciousness slipped through the magical thread and entered Ginny's mind.
Ethan stopped immediately.
He didn't try to look through her memories or touch her thoughts.
He simply remained there, observing the connection and allowing Ginny's sleeping mind to gradually become accustomed to his presence.
It was different from what he had experienced with Riddle.
There was no violent resistance, no attempt to force him out. Ginny's mind was young, unguarded, and remarkably open.
Ethan withdrew after a few moments. He had learned enough for tonight.
The next step would be learning exactly how much control he could exert over her without triggering any suspicion.
If the connection continued strengthening, Ethan estimated that it would take only a few weeks before he could begin testing that control.
The next few days passed in much the same way.
Every night, Ginny would open the Diary and pour out everything that had happened to her that day, from the strange things she'd seen around Hogwarts to the classes she was beginning to enjoy and all the little details that made the castle feel so different from home.
Ethan listened to all of it.
He was sympathetic when she was upset, amused when she was excited, and genuinely interested whenever she discovered something new.
Whenever Ginny was happy, he shared in her excitement, and whenever something bothered her, he was there to listen without judging or interrupting.
Slowly, Ginny stopped thinking of the Diary as something strange.
It became the place where she could talk about everything.
And more importantly, Ethan became the person she wanted to tell.
Every night, Ethan would test the connection, carefully gauging how much of his presence Ginny could sense and how deeply he could enter her mind without drawing her attention.
Slowly but surely, each attempt became easier. Ginny's mind grew more accustomed to his presence, and the connection between them became stronger with every passing night.
Ethan could feel the difference.
What had once been nothing more than a thin thread had gradually become something far more substantial.
Her mind was becoming more open to him, and with it came a growing influence over her thoughts and body.
He never pushed too far.
There was no point in rushing things and risking everything he had built.
And finally, on a cold Friday night toward the end of October, Ethan decided the connection was strong enough for a field test.
The dormitory was dead quiet. The soft, rhythmic breathing of the other first-year girls filled the room, accompanied by the muffled patter of autumn rain drumming against the tower window.
Inside the diary, Ethan stood up from his chair.
He reached into the glowing thread connecting them. Slowly, deliberately, he allowed his awareness to glide across the bridge, sliding into the quiet landscape of Ginny's sleeping mind.
Ethan focused on it and slowly extended his consciousness along the familiar thread. This time, however, he didn't stop at the edge of Ginny's mind.
He pushed deeper.
The sensation was almost effortless.
Ethan found himself standing within a strange representation of Ginny's consciousness, surrounded by fragments of thoughts and emotions that drifted past him like faint echoes. He could sense her sleeping mind beneath everything else, calm and unguarded.
She was in deep, dreamless sleep.
He reached toward one of the simplest functions he could feel.
Movement.
Ethan didn't try to take control of her entire body. That would be reckless, and he still didn't know how much resistance her mind could produce if he pushed too hard.
Instead, he focused on one finger.
Ginny's hand twitched beneath the blanket.
Ethan stopped.
Nothing happened.
There was no sudden rejection, no mental barrier slamming into him, and no indication that Ginny had even noticed.
A faint smile appeared on Ethan's face.
He tried again.
This time, Ginny's index finger slowly curled inward. Ethan released the connection immediately, and Ginny shifted in her sleep but didn't wake.
'Success.'
Ethan sat back in his chair, his mind already racing through the possibilities. If he could control a single finger without waking her, then with enough practice he should eventually be able to control larger movements: walking, speaking, using a wand, and even thinking.
He could take it slowly. After all, unlike Riddle, he did not need to rush to open the Chamber of Secrets before he was ready.
Ethan could afford to spend as much time as necessary experimenting with the connection, gradually increasing his influence while making sure Ginny never noticed anything unusual.
He would learn exactly how her mind responded to him, how much control he could exert, and where the limits of their connection lay.
And once he was confident enough to take full control of her body without raising suspicion, he would finally make his way down into the Chamber of Secrets to test whether he could craft a physical body of his own.
Ethan looked at the faint thread connecting him to Ginny.
'One step at a time.'
He had waited a long time for a chance to escape the Diary.
He could wait a little longer.
****************************