Summary: It was easy for others to say Ginny was fine, but only she knew herself.

Rated: T

Genre: General

Warning Tag: Referenced Possession/ Trauma/Obsession/Manipulation/Brainwashing/Insanity

The Curse

Feeling scared was an understatement as Ginny was led to the Hospital Wing—and forwarded to St. Mungo's—to be evaluated for her recent claims of being possessed by a book. No one believed her when she was examined and, otherwise sleep-deprived and slightly malnourished, was cleared to go home. Possession was a medieval practice; it was not normal to see it used in modern-day magic. It was all in her head; she would be fine.

That was what they said.

Being afraid was an understatement as she sat awake late into the countless nights, jumping at the slightest creak of her family's home or at the faintest of whispers in the wind.

'You were only in my head,' Ginny wrote in her old, violet diary under the moonlight, half hoping for the ink to vanish and reappear. 'You cannot hurt me anymore.'

She shattered the mirror when she glimpsed an inky ghost hovering behind her with a hand curled in her hair. Her mother cradled her on the floor of the bathroom as she sobbed between words.

"He's gone. He's not real."

Yet, she still felt the darkness lingering within. Fear was an understatement as she felt the blot of ink staining her mind rouse back to life. Like a deadly disease, it whispered her promises of greatness and untethered power. A scar of his making she wished she could ignore, but it lured her back in against her will.

Missing him was an understatement.

'I know you're still here.' She wrote to him in her diary every night. 'Still living inside my mind, attached to my soul. Give me a sign… is it really you?'

She didn't tell anyone; no one would believe her if she did. The healers assured her family she would be alright, so she pretended to be fine. But Ginny knew herself. Feeling different was an understatement; her magic changed, her thoughts twisted, and the control over herself was not the same.

After weeks of telling herself that he was gone yet finding herself writing to no one begging for him to not be dead, his soothing voice lulled her into a dreamless sleep one day as she wrote the same words over again. Sleep was the only thing Ginny had to help recover from the trauma no one said she endured.

At first, Ginny didn't notice the new writing in her diary the following night when she opened it to write the ritual-like words again, waiting for them to change, to respond, until she fell asleep. This time it was different; there was something there she didn't remember writing. A twitch of a smile was made as she gripped the quill in her hand.

Feeling joyful was an understatement.

'I'm still here, my little witch.'

Originally Written For:

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments)

Monthly Challenges for All

The Houses Competition

Word Count: 460

Originally Written: September 2018