New Potion and the Enraged Noseless One (2)

As the luncheon neared its end, Ginny Weasley set down her spoon. More than half of her pudding remained, collapsed into a soft, mushy mess of cream and caramel on her plate.

She stared at that mess. Her eyes were open, but there was something wrong with the light in them. It was not the light of "I'm looking at something," but something more scattered, heavier—like something behind her pupils was surging outward, squeezing out all the original light.

Sitting beside her was Colin Creevey—no, Colin had already been petrified. Beside her sat a Hufflepuff girl she rarely spoke to. The girl was bent over her own pudding and had not noticed anything unusual about Ginny.

Ginny's fingers slowly curled against the tabletop, one by one, her nails digging into her palms and leaving several faint crescent-shaped marks.

She was listening.

Draco Malfoy's voice carried over from the Slytherin table, clear and composed. Every word was like a pebble with its trajectory precisely calculated, striking every eardrum in the Great Hall with perfect accuracy.

"Slytherin's Gift of Protection," "immunity to petrification," "seventy Galleons."

The instant those words entered Ginny's ears, her pupils abruptly contracted. It was not fear or surprise, but something more instinctive, an uncontrollable spasm like the prick of a needle.

Riddle awoke inside her mind.

It was not a gradual awakening, like rising from water, but a far more violent one, as if someone had suddenly shoved him hard from behind. His will was like a basin of icy water poured over Ginny's head, flowing down her spine to her fingertips, her toes, every corner of her body.

Ginny's body trembled slightly, as though something had expanded inside her. Her hand no longer curled. Her fingers spread flat across the table, utterly motionless.

Immunity to petrification?

Riddle's