Standard disclaimer: Even though he doesn't actually appear in this fic, I do not own Harry Potter. Nor any of his friends, acquaintances, or mortal enemies. JK Rowling does, and I'm just sending her 'good-writing karma' for book six...

Catharsis

by Audra Lachesis

spazzula@yahoo.com

You can't touch me. I am beyond your reach. I'm stronger, smarter, faster, older. I'm not the same naive little girl anymore. They keep telling me these things. They tell me you can't hurt me anymore.

They're wrong.

I've never told them what happened that night. Does that please you? They don't know how completely I was immersed in darkness. Even after I was free, and alive, I couldn't describe what I went through. I couldn't form the words, couldn't face their expressions of horror. That was my first clue. My first indication that I wasn't really free. I can never be truly free again.

They're right about one thing, though: I'm stronger than I used to be. I've lived with the pain for too long now. Eventually, I just became numb to it. It's such a struggle, sometimes, to keep from going numb to everything. But Fred and George would never allow that. All of my brothers have kept me on my toes, forced me to interact, to strike back at times. I can't be a bystander anymore; I WON'T be a victim.

I won't be fooled again. I won't live in fear. I suppose I should be grateful to you, in a way. You taught me that there is such a thing as pure evil in this world. It's the absence of love, the absence of mercy, the absence of compassion. You showed me that there are people who will do anything -- ANYTHING -- to get what they want. You showed me my weakness -- my fear.

Fear is a defense mechanism; it keeps us from doing really stupid things. But it can incapacitate us, as well. I won't be ruled by my fear. It will not keep me silent next time, like it did before. People were hurt, attacked -- because I was afraid. Too afraid to go to someone with what I knew. It won't happen again.

Do you know why it won't happen again? Because despite the fear, despite the pain, I'm fighting you. I made Tonks go to Diagon Alley with me. I hauled her into Flourish and Blotts. I made her watch as I purchased a small, black, leather bound diary. An unenchanted diary -- I made Tonks check for me. I'm writing in it now, because I will not live in fear.

You don't own my soul anymore, Tom. I'll fight you until I am truly free of you. And when I put down this quill, I will put this diary aside and let go of my fear. I will burn it, if I have to.

Incendio works on diaries, after all.

Burn, Tom. I do not fear you. And for that, you have my gratitude.

Sincerely,

Ginny Weasley

***

[A/N: The image just popped into my head of Ginny struggling to write in a diary again, to tell Tom his hold is broken. So it's stream-of-consciousness, as Ginny scrawls out her deepest fears in a replica of Tom Riddle's diary. I imagined this taking place in the summer before OotP. This is what prompts Ginny's metamorphosis in that book - her own private catharsis.]