It had been a day, and Ginny had not thought of any method she could use to verify Tim's noble intentions. She'd considered asking Draco, but had decided it would be thoughtlessly rude to cast aspersions on his gift. However, Ginny had also not thought of any method by which Tim could exploit her for malicious ends, if she remained conscientious and attempted to read between the lines of anything he suggested in writing that she do. And so Ginny decided, tentatively, that it would be safe to reopen the box and the book, as long as she was careful.

"Tim, I'm afraid that we're at an impasse." Ginny had carefully rehearsed these words, and they flowed naturally out of her quill. "I don't mean to disparage your character in any way, but I find it difficult to trust you. My father told me long ago not to speak to anything whose brain I couldn't see, and I didn't understand him at the time, but I do now. I don't want to cut off contact from you, but there are several points I want to ascertain as soon as possible, and I have no idea how I possibly could ascertain them.

That you really are who you say you are.

That you don't have some plan to manipulate me into something bad or dangerous.

That your intent overall is good rather than evil.

I'm sorry, Tim. But until you figure out some way to prove these things to me, I'll always be on high alert around you. I wish it didn't have to be like this." There was a pause before Ginny's words began to vanish, and Tim's handwriting began to appear.

"Oh, dear, Ginny. I'm very sorry. You're right to be cautious; I was being very hasty with you. If I had been as intelligent in my youth about dark threats as you are, I wouldn't be stuck here today. I'm not sure how to earn your trust. I'll have to think about this." Ginny scanned through the text, and didn't detect any threat, yet.

"Take as much time as you need." Another short pause, before:

"I have a thought, but I doubt you'll like it much. But first, let me confirm my hunch. Bear with me; it's necessary for my idea. Are you a Parselmouth?"

"Why?" It was Ginny's second thought on what to write, after the marginally-more-revealing "How did you know?"

"You can't lie in Parseltongue. Try it, now."

"The sky iss blue," said Ginny, after a desperate failed attempt to say "red" instead. She then wrote:

"So are you a Parselmouth? Can the diary we're writing in hiss in your voice?"

"No." A long pause before he elaborated: "If I could speak, do you think I would just be writing back to you, like this? But you are a Parselmouth. I have the capability to possess those who have consented – so long as they touch me, that is. It would ordinarily be a very evil thing, but mind you, your consent is required. That was a security device Voldemort placed on this journal, but it's morally for the best. If I got your permission, I could speak to you, using your own lips, in Parseltongue." Ginny had to reread this several times after picking the diary up again; her initial reaction to realizing what had been suggested was to throw the diary clear across the room in disgust.

"No. No, no, no. This is exactly what I was worried about, Tim. If I don't trust you enough to feel comfortable talking to you, why would I trust you with my body? Goodbye, Tim."

"I'm sorry." But Ginny never read it; she had already sealed the diary back in its box.

Ginny stopped Colin on Wednesday, on the way down from the Astronomy tower. It had been a particularly dull night, as Professor Sinistra had been blindsided by an unexpected storm on Europa that obscured its sea serpents, so she had been forced to merely describe them.

"Colin!" said Ginny. "I was looking for you."

"Is this about Friday's meeting?" said Colin. "Because Harry's already assigned me five full scrolls; don't tell me there's something else."

"No," said Ginny. "Actually, it's much easier than that. I could potentially do it tonight, but I could put it off to whenever it's convenient for you."

"How much work is it?" said Colin.

"You just need to stand outside a room, and be ready to intervene if something goes wrong," said Ginny. "It's so easy, you'll probably be able to do other homework while you're there. I'm doing some, um, magical experiments, and they could be really dangerous, but they'll be safe as long as I have a spotter."

"You're not experimenting with Transfiguration, are you?" said Colin, with suspicion.

"God, no," said Ginny. "I'm still rubbish at that."

"Good," said Colin. "Harry told me I might blow the Earth up that way. I can't even remember my idea, just that it was really bad."

"I think only Harry could blow the Earth up with Transfiguration," said Ginny. "Good thing he's on our side. When should I meet you on the tenth floor?"

"How about now?" said Colin.

"Oh, um, I need to pop back to the dorms first," said Ginny. "Sorry."

"Okay," said Colin. "I'll be there when you are."

"Alright," said Ginny. "I'm going to be in this classroom for a few minutes, with this book. You shouldn't hear anything coming from inside the classroom except me hissing to myself, and maybe occasionally some muttering, but no spells. When I'm done, I'll exit the room with the book in this bag. If there are any discrepancies or I act oddly during the experiment, get the book away from me and send me to Madam Pomfrey. Understood?"

"Understood," said Colin, and he looked at least mildly worried. Ginny got out of his sight in the abandoned classroom, and began to write again:

"I think I've changed my mind. I'll allow you to possess me, if you'll promise to confirm all of my earlier conditions. You can't use me for a plot, or lie to me or trick me or anything like that. You can only possess me for purposes I directly understand and agree to." Tim quickly began to write in response:

"I agree to everything you've just written, but, of course, will only truly be able to verify it in Parseltongue. To consent to possession, you need to write the following sentence, word for word: 'I hereby state that direct physical contact with the object I am writing on is consent to indefinite possession. by the spirit currently inhabiting that object, as long as the contact continues.' Then, sign your name." Ginny made a note to herself to get her hands on a pair of gloves for future dealings with the diary, but wrote:

"I hereby state that direct physical contact with the object I am writing on is consent to indefinite possession, by the spirit currently inhabiting that object, as long as the contact continues." She signed her name, "Ginevra Weasley," in ornate but barely readable cursive, and she immediately felt a draining presence in her body, as though she were half-asleep, but fully conscious of the half of herself that was awake. Words began to form in externally unrecognizable hisses on her lips:

"I have deliberately not assssumed full control, sso that you may act ass well, and we may carry on a converssation. You may pull away at any time you choosse. In thiss way I hope to gain your trusst." Ginny breathed deep, in and out, acclimating to the sensation before summoning the will to speak herself.

"Firsst, confirm you are the persson you ssaid you were."

"Ass I ssaid, infamouss masster ussed sstudent from acrossss ssea to create me. I am not ssame persson magically sspeaking, but you of all people know of technicalitiess ssuffered thuss." Ginny managed to twist her smile into a frown.

"You have to qualify too much. I am unconvinssed."

"It iss besst I can ssay, I am afraid. I am not sstudent from acrossss ssea; I am journal."

"Who do you sserve? Might you sserve purpossess of infamouss masster?"

"My firsst masster is mysself. I am no Housse Elf. My ssecond masster is you, for you are the prophessied hero, and I wissh you no harm, nor do I now have any planss to usse you for purpossess you do not conssent to. Infamouss masster is no masster to me, not now. I desspise him for what he hass done to me and sseek his desstruction if it remainss incomplete. On that topic, have you assked to see Phoenixx of girl-child?"

"Yess. Sshe became indignant by my ssuggesstion and left."

"That iss worrissome." Ginny took her hands off of the diary for a moment, to get a chance to think alone, and then returned. "I ssensse you arranged for a sspotter to enssure your ssafety and ssecurity. I am not inssulted, only impressssed."

"I believe we have confirmed all I wissh to have confirmed for now. It hass not been pleassant, but I am ssatissfied with the ressults and look forward to a mutually-agreeable partnersship. Goodbye for now, Tim?" English words finally came out of Ginny, and they were a distinctly different person, even if they were in the same voice:

"Goodbye, Ginny." Ginny placed the diary in the bag that sat besides it on the table, and after separating herself from it, stretched, newly appreciating the feeling of truly owning one's own body. She carried the bag outside and met Colin.

"Alright, I'm done talking to myself," said Ginny. "We can go back to the Slytherin Common Room."

"Oh my God," said Colin, "you're a Parselmouth, that explains so much, like when you fainted under the hat, all the hissing was probably-"

"Ginny Weasley!" shouted Luna, who was absolutely furious. She quickly made her way across the Defense room towards Ginny; class was mere seconds from starting.

"What is it?" said Ginny. She was really baffled; she hadn't spoken much to Luna for nearly a week.

"Colin Creevey told me you were doing magic experiments with him," said Luna.

"That was supposed to be secret," said Ginny. "But I only had him help because it was convenient; I didn't realize you would have rather-" Luna slapped Ginny.

"No, I don't want to help you with your experiments," said Luna. "I want you to not do them! Do you have any idea how dangerous experimenting with magic is? You could have been killed! Did you have any idea what you were doing?"

"Luna, I'm sorry, I'll be more careful," said Ginny, but Luna cut her off, because she wasn't done.

"My mother thought she was inventing a new Charm to check for soulworms," said Luna. "And she was a Charms master, she'd already created dozens of spells. She misspoke, and it tore her guts out! They flew across the den in a second! She died in my father's arms while I watched! Harry Potter's new hospital wouldn't have saved her; she'd have been dead before she got there! That's what could have happened to you, Ginny! Annihilated from reality, instantaneously! Do you want to die, Ginny?"

"No," said Ginny, breathing fast, though not as fast as Luna.

"Then don't meddle with magic you don't understand," said Luna. "Don't even meddle with magic you think you understand. Don't." Gilderoy Lockhart's face had appeared on the screens, and Luna was already returning back to her seat, still bright red.

"Good evening, Hogwarts," said Professor Lockhart. "Today, we discuss a magical poison. There are many magical poisons, ranging from mildly irritating to lethal-many-times-over. But the poison I will cover today is the nastiest that has yet been invented. There is no substance on the planet you would be worse off ingesting. Its historical use was at best a crime against humanity, and at worst a philosophical horror on par with death. It is the inanimate thing it is most justifiable to fear. It is one of only three Potions that the Ministry of Magic felt deserved a special committee to prevent its use, and of those three, it is the only poison. I am speaking, of course, of Amortentia.". There were a few confused murmurs throughout the class.

"The world's strongest love potion, or, less euphemistically, the Perfect Slavery Potion," said Professor Lockhart. "To refer to it as a strong love potion, as people commonly do, is hopelessly incorrect. Love potions are all fairly similar to one another, and their potency is never much greater than a Muggle drug. Amortentia is a different beast altogether. Can anyone name a historic use of Amortentia? Yes, Miss Granger?"

"It's said that the Dark Lord Gargamel used Amortentia in the creation of the first House Elves," said Hermione, who looked rather appalled.

"Someone's been paying attention in Professor Columbus's classes," said Lockhart. "But yes, absolutely. And if you want some idea of what Amortentia will do to you, observe a House Elf. The effect is very similar - except that a House Elf may change masters. An Amortentia victim may not. They are trapped forever in the service of whoever dosed them."

"Amortentia is permanent," said Professor Lockhart. "There is no true cure for it. The standard treatment St. Mungo's provides to Amortentia victims is an Obliviation of all memories of their assailant's existence. But they will still not be the same person they were before. They will think slower, they will be less effective, they will feel something is missing from their life, and if they again become aware of the individual they have become affixed to, they will fall right back into slavery. Amortentia strikes at the soul, not at the body, and for this reason, some Dark Lords have historically fed their victims Amortentia immediately before killing them, so that they would be slaves in the next world."

"The control offered by Amortentia is total," said Professor Lockhart, "for it overrides all of the victim's wants and desires, forever. An Amortentia victim's first thought, at all times, is 'what does my master want me to do?'. No force of will on their part may free them. All actions they take, no matter how small, will be taken because they fit into their mental model of what their master wants them to do. If an Amortentia victim believes their master wants them dead, they will simply stop breathing. They may not trick themselves into believing that their master wants what they want. They will make an honest, full attempt to determine what is wanted from them, and they will make an honest, full attempt to provide it."

` "It is commonly believed that the linguistic root of Amortentia is 'amor', or 'love'," said Professor Lockhart. "This is one interpretation. But I prefer the theory that the origin is 'a mort', or 'without death', for it is a poison that does not allow you to die, but it kills you nonetheless; it kills you as an independent agent. From the moment the Amortentia passes through your lips, you are doomed, for all eternity or at least for the course of your life, to watch, helpless, trapped inside your own brain, as you become the extension of another's will. Anyone sane, of course, would want to avoid such a fate. Are there any questions?" There was a pause, and some hands slowly raised. "Yes, Miss Davis?"

"Why don't Dark Lords use Amortentia more often?" said Tracey. "It seems like it would be extremely useful to them in general."

"By and large, Dark Lords do use quite a lot of Amortentia," said Professor Lockhart. "That is a prevailing trend throughout history, and despite modern governments' attempts to eradicate Amortentia, I do not expect it to change in the future. The most notable exception is He-Who-May-Now-Be-Named, Voldemort. He was the most powerful Dark Lord of this century, and, more than that, was among the most powerful Dark Lords ever to have walked the planet. He was not ever known to make use of Amortentia. Nobody knows why. Those who grew up in the shadow of his terror might have forgotten that Amortentia is among the nastiest tools of Dark Lords, above the Killing Curse. But the older wizards remember Grindelwald, and countless other older Dark Lords, and know the threat that Amortentia represents. Yes, Mr. Creevey?"

"What happens if someone takes two different doses of Amortentia from two different wizards?" asked Colin.

"Someone may only be subjected to Amortentia once," said Professor Lockhart. "After the first dose they are immune to all subsequent doses."

"Then could you eliminate the problem of Amortentia by just taking some from yourself?" said Colin.

"Very clever, Mr. Creevey," said Professor Lockhart. "But it wouldn't work. Amortentia passes through the body of its own master with no effect."

"How about if you took Amortentia from someone you trusted not to try to control you, who'd agreed to your scheme to become immune to Amortentia – preferably someone dying, come to think of it?" said Colin.

"That, on the other hand, may well work," said Professor Lockhart. "I suspect some very important wizards – my mind leaps to Alastor Moody – have done such a thing."

"Everyone should do that," said Colin. "Oh, or if you had a couple getting married, they could both take Amortentia for each other, at their wedding, and then they wouldn't really be controlling each other, because it would be mutual, in an infinite loop-" Gasps and gags had long ago started to come from throughout the class.

"Mr. Creevey," said Professor Lockhart, "Amortentia is incredibly expensive to produce, and not because of its thoroughly illegal status, but because to brew even a small sip requires the permanent sacrifice of one wizard's magic and another's wand. It is not easy to find wizards willing to make that sacrifice. On top of that, Amortentia is flatly banned outside of carefully controlled Ministry-approved ventures, and it is not easy to get any proposed use of Amortentia approved. The wedding ritual you suggest is incredibly unethical, if for less obvious reasons than regular use of Amortentia. Still, it or something like it was attempted by a Dark sect in the nineteenth century. They voluntarily ceased it when it was determined that couples mutually taking Amortentia were more likely than average to file for divorce."

"So that's why Dark Lords can't just lace their country's water supply with Amortentia," said Colin. "They need to target specific people they intend to be important followers."

"There's another reason," said Professor Lockhart, and another professor entered the room – Professor Slughorn, who was carrying a specialized cauldron with no lid – it was simply a solid iron ball, and Ginny could not imagine how it would be used. "I have gotten permission from the Ministry of Magic and Hogwarts' Potions Master to display a sample of Amortentia to the class."

"Don't worry," said Professor Slughorn. "The cauldron's still empty for the moment."

"Professor Slughorn," said Blaise, "how can you-"

"Spimster Wicket," said Professor Slughorn rapidly and ashamedly, as if that were an answer.

"The one saving grace about Amortentia," said Professor Lockhart, "is that unlike many magical poisons preferred by spies and assassins, it is impossible to conceal. It is wholly immiscible, in any substance. Like oil in water, it will separate out immediately from any other fluid it is combined with. In fact, a skilled wizard will effortlessly be able to detect Amortentia in an opaque vial from yards away, because Amortentia emanates a strong magical radiation that may be felt regardless of any form of insulation applied to it."

"That is why I have chosen to show you all Amortentia today," said Professor Lockhart. "So that you may recognize in the wild the feeling it produces by mere proximity, so that you may not be tricked into consuming it. Of course this does not perfectly protect you – the standard practice of Dark Lords is to feed victims Amortentia by force, not by trickery. But it might help, to some extent. Professor Slughorn will take the cauldron around the classroom; remember the feeling the Amortentia induces in you. It should not be difficult to remember; the feeling is incredibly distinct."

"The cauldron is currently empty," said Professor Slughorn, and the screens all turned to display him. "It will momentarily summon blank Amortentia from a hidden storeroom. 'Blank Amortentia' is Amortentia that has not been primed with a master wizard; it is consequently completely harmless, but induces the same feeling as primed – that is, functional – Amortentia. None of you are to touch the cauldron, regardless, and at the end of the lesson it will be sent back to its storeroom and then to the Ministry."

Before the cauldron had even gotten near Ginny, she could feel its presence. It was like the opposite of how she had seen a Dementor described – positive memories automatically coming to the forefront of her mind, including many she couldn't even understand, but that just felt good – but it was just as unpleasant, for she got the distinctive feeling that this more primal feeling was a lure, to trap her will and drown it. Ginny wasn't nearly stupid enough for that. Her destiny was her own to shape; if she came to a set of two open doors she would take whichever one she very well pleased. Still, the mere existence of the Amortentia trap unnerved her.

Ginny briefly considered that in permitting Tim to possess her, she had done something equivalent to willingly chugging Amortentia. But she reassured herself that it was counterintuitively the opposite – in so doing, she had gotten Tim's word that he shared all of her interests and priorities. She had even put in place security measure in case he attempted to hijack her life by force. She truly believed herself the master of this mysterious relationship.