Prologue: My Name Is Ginny Weasley

I will forever remember the second war. Every little detail from the months leading up to it, the weeks during it, and the days after it is etched into my mind. The screams and sobs surround me and penetrate my dreams, so much that every night I dread nothing more than closing my eyes. Sometimes I wake up screaming in the middle of the night, the horror of my past clawing at me. As you can tell, even after all these years, the memories still plague me.

I recently visited Albus Dumbledore, asking him if he could, in any way, relieve me of some of this pain. I'm not selfish enough to ask for all of it to be taken away; no, far from it. I know that I need to remember. But to numb some of it...Oh, I would give anything for that. When I saw him, one of the remaining parts of me crumbled: Dumbledore is dying. Nonetheless, he gave me a weary smile and told me to write it all down in this journal, so that's what I am going to do.

Now that I have this blank page, I'm not even sure where to start. There are so many things I have to get out, but what use will it do if they're all jumbled thoughts? I'm sitting here, trying to reorganize everything in my mind. I'm not exactly sure who is going to read this, or if it will ever be read at all. I don't even know if I'll ever finish it - there's so much to write down.

As a child, my life was carefree and innocent. I grew up in a large family with six older brothers and loving parents. We were poor, but it didn't matter. My father worked in the Ministry of Magic, and was often looked down upon by his co-workers, but each day he would come home with a smile on his face and stories to tell us.

My mother and father were so happy when I got accepted at Hogwarts. It was expected that I would, of course, but nonetheless, having every one of their seven children attend the best wizarding school in Europe was certainly something to boast about.

My years at Hogwarts were the best in my life. I made so many wonderful friends, all of whom I still remember and keep in my heart. My first year was quite a journey; I nearly died, but I was rescued by the greatest hero the world has ever known. I was infatuated with him. It was a silly childhood obsession, of course; what little girl doesn't have a brave hero to swoon over? Later on, I became close friends with him through my brother - I'll come back to both of them later.

It was after my fifth year at Hogwarts that the times began to grow dark. Yet we still lived life like we always had, with cozy family gatherings before the fireplace when it was cold outside, and picnics by the lake when summer rolled around. Seeing as I barely remember those days, I can't go into greater detail. All I can recall is the immense feeling of happiness I used to get during those occasions - something I haven't felt for so many years.

I will now begin my tale. Allow me to give you a formal introduction before I start: My name is Ginny Weasley, and I died seven years ago.

[A/N: This chapter is basically just setting up what will come in the next chapter; next chapter is the one you want to watch out for.]


Chapter 1: 6:32 PM

Oh no, I didn't really die. Physically, I didn't. But in all other aspects, I lost every part of me. My friends, my family, and everything else that ever mattered - they're all gone. Death would be preferable to this hell which I go through every day.

The preperations for the second war began half-way through my fifth year. Since Voldemort's return in my third year, the Order of the Phoenix had been planning ahead, making sure they were ready in case the time came when they had to begin recruiting for a second war. Unfortunately, it came sooner than they expected.

My parents pulled me out of school so I could work in the Order with them when I was only 15 years old. That's when I knew how terribly wrong things were going. They'd always wanted me to focus on my education, and not worry about what went on in their area of business. They told me that I was too young to have to think about such things, and I was better off just worrying about school. What could a 15 year old do amongst a group of experienced witches and wizards anyway? So when they told me that I had to leave Hogwarts to help them...I knew that things were becoming serious.

All of my family was in the Order. Not just my brothers, Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, and Ron, but my closest friends too. All of us joined together to fight the growing threat.

Ron...I was closer to him than anyone else in my family. Out of all my older brothers, he was the youngest - only a year older than me. He used to tease me all the time, and he was so protective of me. If any boy tried to come near me, he would threaten them with hexes and curses. He was like my second father, someone I could run crying to if a Slytherin threw mud at me. I used to find it annoying that he watched over me constantly, but now I miss it more than anything. Oh, how much I would give just to be protected again.

It was through Ron that I met Hermione Granger. She was the closest thing to a sister I ever had. Growing up in a family of all boys, I never got to giggle over the opposite sex, or talk until the early morning about hairstyles. But Hermione gave me that...not only was she my best friend, she was my replacement for an older sister. She was so brilliant, so clever. Everyone knew about her - Hermione, the smartest witch in Hogwarts. She had so much to offer the world, and she never got the chance to.

And then there was Harry Potter, Ron and Hermione's best friend. The Boy Who Lived. His parents died to save him, and he followed in their footsteps - he died to save the world. If it wasn't for him, there would be no one. It would just be darkness. It's because of him that I'm even here today. He sacrificed everything for the good of those around him. He was so brave...the word 'hero' can't even begin to describe him. Harry...it hurts me to write his name. My heart breaks every time I remember his face and see him smiling at me in my mind. Out of everyone I ever knew, I will always remember Harry.

There was Remus Lupin. Everyone has heard about the famous Marauders. Dear Remus was the only one who survived long enough to see the second war play out. His three closest friends, the three people who'd accepted him for the werewolf he was, all died before they reached the age of 40. After Sirius died, Remus took Harry into his care. I know for a fact that he loved Harry like a son. I wish more than anything that I could have spared him the torture of seeing his friends die before him a second time...I don't think I would have survived what he went through. For that, I hold his memory with utmost respect.

Everyone in the Order constantly worked. We never rested, never ate, never stopped. It was barely something worth being called a job - it was a lifestyle. I can't even name everyone in the Order; there were too many people. I just know that I was close to many of them, and none of them survived. No one but me.

Do you understand now why each day I live, I die a little more?

As the war approached, we worked harder. In those days before the first attack, we barely even saw each other - everyone was too busy spying on the other side, or those we believed to be on the other side. The plans we'd made so long ago became forgotten as everyone struggled to do what they believed was right. Alliances began to switch, unbeknownst to friends and family. The power of the dark side overcame many on our side, while the glory of the good side drew in Voldemort's followers.

One of those who became good was Draco Malfoy. Of everyone I ever knew in Hogwarts, he is the only one who survived. Back during our school days, he was cruel to me because of my family heritage; however, when he realized what was happening, he quickly switched over to our side. Oh Draco. He was so courageous to do such a thing. The mark had already been burned onto his arm, and yet he went against its power. He could have died, but he did it because he realized he would rather lose his life than waste it.

I remember in my fourth year at Hogwarts, my mother wouldn't even let Sirius tell Harry one of the Order's plans. Now Harry was leading a large group of the strongest and most able witches and wizards. Oh, how the times had changed. I knew that the war was going to start soon the day I saw Harry retreat into a small room in the attic alone. I stood outside the door, trying to listen to what he was doing. I peered through the keyhole, and what I saw chilled my bones.

Harry stood within that room by himself, practicing the Cruciatus curse. One of the three unforgiveable curses; a spell that should never have even been uttered, much less performed, by a sixteen year old wizard. He held a jar of spiders in his hand, and his brow was furrowed in concentration as he attempted to inflict pain beyond anything on one of the tiny creatures. And that wasn't even the worst of it - when he finally succeeded, I saw to my horror a smile of satisfaction creep onto his face. That's when I knew that what was to come would be brutal beyond my wildest imaginings. As I watched, wide-eyed, he began trying to perfect the Imperius curse.

I didn't even stay to watch him move onto the killing curse.

Everyone became wary and paranoid of strangers, but even worse, of their friends. Trusting your life in someone's hands became your death wish, and family members grew distant. Yet the bonds that were falling apart outside became stronger within my family. Somehow, my father still found the time to tell us stories about the activities he had engaged in that day - after all, when the world around you is crumbling, two of the only things you can hold onto are your family and its traditions.

And then that all came crashing down. Percy betrayed us. The Ministry was on our side, but he betrayed us. He let Lucius Malfoy, whom he had become friends with through Ministry ties, take on his form. Dumbledore was so distracted by everything that was happening that he believed the imposter to be the real Percy and gave him information about the Order's whereabouts and how to find us. It was like stealing candy from a baby. The information was immediately transferred to Voldemort and at 6:32 PM that very day, the Dark Lord and his death eaters attacked us at 12 Grimmauld place.

That was the day the war started.

Chapter 2: Avada Kedavra

It happened in a rush. We were all sitting around the table, together for the first time in weeks, planning how we would protect Hogwarts if they were to direct an attack there. I heard them coming; I screamed out for everyone to take cover, then ran and hid in a broom closet. Seconds later, the doors burst open and hooded figures rushed in from all directions. Dementors and death eaters - I couldn't even tell which was which.

I watched through a crack in the closet doors, too afraid to even breathe. Two people died that night - Tonks and my oldest brother, Bill. He'd married her just 2 months ago, and he died trying to protect her. That's when I knew that it had begun. The biggest battle that had and would ever occur was to start that very minute.

Luckily, most others apparated away before any real danger got to them. The death eaters left within minutes, although a few dementors stayed behind to guard. So it was true...Voldemort had convinced the dementors to switch to his side. With the darkest of all creatures as his allies, he was sure to win. We should have forseen it at that moment, we should have realized. Yet although I try to tell myself that sometimes, I know it would have done nothing. Voldemort killed for the sake of killing, and even if we had surrendered, he would have killed us anyway.

I apparated - something I'd learned while training for the war - away in tears. I ended up in Diagon Alley, which had been one of my favourite places to go as a child. It was no longer the happy, bright, cheerful place I once knew - people screamed in terror, pushing and shoving others to get to safety. Word had reached them of the attack, and all they cared about now was their own safety.

I easily found Harry, Ron, and Hermione. They were alone in Ollivander's, kneeling over Mr Ollivander's dead body. The silence in the small, dusty shop was overpowering. We exchanged no words, just looks of despair. Little did I know, that was the last time the four of us would ever be together by ourselves in the same room.

From then on, the sun didn't even dare to shine. The days passed by in darkness. At night, when I tried to sleep, I lay alone. Everywhere around me, I saw bright flashes of red and green lights. Wherever I went, dead bodies lay - whether they were the bodies of the good or the bad, I never knew. There were too many to even look through. One time, I saw a young man with dirty blonde hair lying on the ground of Hogsmeade. He looked familiar, and when I knelt down and rolled him around, I recognized his handsome features - David Greene, a boy I had dated in my fourth year.

A week into the war, the Order finally had a meeting. Out of the original 160 members, there were only 42 who could attend it - the rest had been slayed. To my relief, my parents, Ron, Hermione, and Harry were among these 42. However, my other brothers were gone. We didn't even have time to weep for them. Dumbledore hurriedly called the meeting to order, but before we could discuss anything, the death eaters attacked. I never knew how they found us. That night, my mother and father died. For the first time since the beginning of the war, I cried.

When I think back to it, I feel those same tears prick at my eyes. The two people who'd cared for me and loved me for 15 years of my life had died in the same room as me, and I didn't even do anything about it. I simply apparated away without even kissing them goodbye. My own cowardice and selfishness still chews away at me.

That night, as I strolled through the forest, thoughts running through my mind, I let my guard down. I walked directly into a clearing filled with death eaters. To them, it was like Christmas had come early. They ripped off my clothes and bound me to a tree - I was so frightened. They were going to rape me. As I close my eyes now, I can still see their gleaming eyes and sneering faces looming closer...closer to me...and then, Draco's voice bellowing "Avada Kedavra" four times in a row. Imagine my surprise when my childhood enemy came to my rescue. But the murders of four death eaters couldn't come without a sacrifice - the remaining death eater performed a spell I'd never heard of on Draco. He slumped to the ground, and the death eater apparated away.

Screaming, I ran to him, thinking he was dead. Leaning down, I checked his pulse, then saw him open his eyes. He smiled at me, but as he opened his mouth to speak, no words came out. I desperately repeated his name, but he heard no words. Because of me, Draco is now a deaf and a mute. He lost two of his senses to save me, and I'll never be able to repay him for that. I wept for him in that clearing, and he comforted me without words. Draco...he was so brave. To switch alliances when his father was the most powerful death eater - there is no greater act than that.

I stayed with him that night; he had saved me and now it was my turn to protect him. How long would a person who couldn't hear nor speak last in a world where you needed two pairs of eyes to stay alert? Surprisingly, he made it through the night, and so did I.

Draco's loss marked the beginning of many deaths that haunt me to this day.

In the morning, I left him to go fight. I arrived at the Hogwarts quidditch pitch, and saw Hermione and Ron surrounded by a circle of death eaters. Ron lay on the ground, as pale as a ghost, and Hermione was standing over him with her wand raised.

"Get away from him!" she yelled.

In response, Bellatrix Lestrange cast the Cruciatus curse on her. I watched Hermione writhe on the ground, in too much pain to even scream. I saw her face contorted in agony as she lay on the ground next to Ron, being tortured to death.

No, that time, I didn't just stand there. It was that very moment that I realized how this would end - the only way to stop it was to learn to want to cause pain, to crave it. I summoned every ounce of hatred I had acquired, and for the first time in my life, I screamed the word, "Crucio!"

Bellatrix fell to the ground, and to my disbelief and disgust, I found myself laughing. The more she screamed, the more I laughed, until I was nearly doubled over in laughter. Oh, the glee and power I felt from uttering that single word. Then I realized nearly too late that the ring of death eaters was now advancing towards me. A jet of red light shot at me, but I ducked and ran to my two friends.

"Hermione, what happened to Ron?" I asked in a hushed voice.

"He's still alive," she whispered, her whole body shaking from aftereffects of the unforgiveable curse, "but barely."

Before I could respond, the death eaters were upon us. All I remember is that Hermione cast a shield around me, off of which bounded a killing curse. However, her and Ron were not so fortunate - two jets of green light hit them both squarely in the chest.

I sat there, protected by Hermione's magic, my entire soul numb. No, I thought, no they can't be dead. But it was too late. Two of the kindest people I'd ever known lay at my feet, dead. I collapsed over Ron's limp body. The pain was so overwhelming that tears couldn't even come to my eyes. A shroud of sorrow surrounded me, choked me, suffocated me. I couldn't breathe. They were dead.

I looked around, expecting the world to have stopped turning. But no, the fighting and screaming continued. Cloaked figures still battled each other for survival. Dead bodies lay all around me, some half-submerged in a mixture of blood, mud, and tears. No one mourned them, though. No one knelt over them, crying. The survivors fought on because that was all they could do. Fighting was all they had left.

Looking down, I etched the image of Hermione and Ron lying on the ground into my heart. They lay together side by side, like they always had been in life. Three weeks of war had engraved lines of worry into their young faces, lines which, under any other circumstances, would never have appeared on a sixteen year old's face. Despite their aged outward appearances, they were still the Hermione and Ron I had known a year ago.

Shakily, I got to my feet. "I love you both," I whispered, briefly touching my fingers to my lips before turning away.

Now, the thought of hunting Bellatrix down came to me. I have to kill her, was all my mind would tell me. Grimly, I set off to avenge my brother's death.

Something new had overtaken me. Rage and hatred coursed through me, filling me up. As I calmly strolled across the quidditch pitch, I began firing killing curses right and left. I didn't even care who they were aimed at anymore - I was no longer innocent, pure Ginny Weasley. Nothing set me apart from the others now. I lived to kill, and I killed to live.

At last, I found her. She was standing with her back to me, dueling with one of my old school friends, Susan Bones. Without thinking, I let the image of Hermione and Ron's pale faces overtake my common sense, and choked out, "Avada Kedavra."

As I watched her body arch into the air, the realization of what I had done hit me. Oh yes, I did the most cowardly thing one can do. I attacked and killed someone while they were fighting with another, and even worse, while their back was to me. To this day, it remains one of the things that eats away at me. As I recall it, I hang my head in shame. I'd succeeded in what I had set out to do, but for what? For what, I wondered as I stared down at her lifeless body, is all of this for?

As each day passes, bleaker than the last, I still ask myself that very question.

Before I could dwell on what I had just done, I was off. There were more death eaters to kill. Squaring my shoulders, I began to walk around, looking for Harry. I hadn't seen him since the failed Order meeting. Was he dead? Was he still out there somewhere, fighting against Voldemort for the future of our world? Of course he had to be, if he were dead, the battle would have ceased.

And then I saw him. They stood in the very center of the quidditch pitch, the place Harry had loved so much as a student in Hogwarts, dueling each other. All of those who stood around them, good and evil, were watching with bated breath as they circled each other with their wands raised.

"Harry!" I yelled, pushing through the crowd. When I had struggled to the front, I called out his name again. Without warning, Voldemort moved his wand in my direction. I was lifted into the air like a rag doll. With a careless flick of his wrist, he sent me flying to the ground. The death eaters in the crowd surrounding us laughed coldly as I landed at Harry's feet.

"Harry," I whispered as pain flooded through me, trying to block out their shrieks. "I killed Bellatrix."

He crouched down beside me. I knew how much it meant to him, the fact that I'd avenged his godfather's death for him. I could see it in his eyes. Forcing a smile onto my face, I looked up at him one more time. He always told me that he loved to see me smile.

Oh, I'll never forget that moment as long as I live. It was like time froze. Never will I forget every detail, every emotion that flickered in his green eyes. The eyes that were so much like his mother's. The eyes that, over time, had hardened with hate and hostility toward the world around him. I started to cry as I realized how it was all going to end.

"Don't cry, Ginny. Don't cry for me. A hero never cries."

Those were his last words. Against my will, I began to lose conciousness. It seemed like a thick fog had settled over my vision as I watched, through hooded eyes, Voldemort kill Harry.

In my mind, it was the end of the world. Every one stopped to watch that single beam of light creep toward The Boy Who Lived. Even when he knew it was coming, he did nothing to stop it. He just remained in his crouching position, smiling down at me sadly.

Not once did a tear fall down his cheek.

Chapter 3: Those Four Words

As Harry slumped to the ground beside me, my mind started clouding over. I couldn't register anything that was happening; it was like everything I was hearing and seeing was happening behind stained glass. In the split second before I closed my eyes, I heard Voldemort let out a shriek of victory. It was unlike anything I'd ever heard, so unearthly and haunting that it froze my very soul and made my blood run cold. It was the last thing I heard before unconsciousness took over me.

To this day, that scream still lives within me. I wake up in the darkness to the sound, yet it's not the same. Rather than being one of triumph, it's filled with torture, despair, and agony. As I sit up, my entire body shaking uncontrollably, I realize its source - the lips from which that loathsome sound escapes are my very own.

When I came to, I was almost afraid to open my eyes. What would I see? What would a world in which evil prevailed over good look like? Would it still be the same as the nightmare I'd been living in for the past few weeks? I listened carefully, but heard not a single sound. The silence was oppressive and unfamiliar to me. Gingerly, I sat up slightly and looked around. It took me a few moments to get used to the darkness as I pulled myself off of the blood-stained grass.

The heavy stench of sweat and death hung thickly in the atmosphere. The air around me was deathly still, almost as if it were mourning for the bodies that scattered the ground. In the distance, I could see flashes of bright green, but other than that, it was like everything had ceased to exist. So this is Voldemort's world, I thought grimly to myself.

Crawling over to Harry's body, I laid my head on his chest and gritted my teeth. The pain I felt was too great to even allow tears to come to my eyes. "Harry," I whispered, as if saying his name would bring him back. "Harry...no..."

But he didn't open his eyes.

Struggling to my feet, I shakily leaned against a nearby tree and tried to recollect my senses. What would I do now? I had no where to go, no family to turn to. Everyone I had known was dead...everyone but...

"Ginny?" came a voice from behind me.

I spun around and saw to my utter shock Luna Lovegood standing behind me, her dirty blonde hair more straggly and tangled than ever, her pale blue eyes dull and lifeless. "Ginny?" she repeated, squinting through the haze to look at me.

I nodded and tried to say something. For some reason, words couldn't make their way past the lump that had grown in my throat, so I simply nodded instead.

"Ginny Weasley," she whispered, collapsing on the grass beside me. "There's nothing left."

I nodded again, even though my mind was too numb to even register what she was saying. She was talking, and I was nodding, and I couldn't stop. For a moment, I became a machine - no emotion, no warmth, just a programmed movement that continued to repeat itself.

At last, I was snapped out of my reverie by a loud clanking coming from Luna. I blinked and looked at her. She was ripping apart her butterbeer cap necklace. Each individual butterbeer cap she threw over her shoulder, and once they were all gone, she wrapped the string around her right index finger. "What are you doing?" I half-screeched. I don't know what it was that made me react so frantically. Perhaps it was the fact that by destroying her necklace, Luna was ripping away the only bit of solidity I had left.

She looked up. Her eyes were bugging out wildly from her head and she looked as though as if she'd lost her mind. "There's nothing left," she repeated.

I looked at her for what seemed like hours. She stared back, not saying a word. And then, I felt my mouth open and formulate the word, "Luna."

She nodded slowly.

"Luna, what do we do?" I choked out, a state of panic overwhelming me now that I was focused in on the reality around me. It all seemed so hopeless. Just Luna and I, sitting in the midst of the vast expanse of corpses. It was surreal.

"We have to get out of here," Luna replied. She was speaking in such low tones that I had to lean in closer to hear her. "We have to get out," she repeated, waving her arms wildly.

"But what about them?" I asked, gesturing at the dead bodies.

"We leave them," Luna replied, a distant tone beginning to creep into her voice. Her eyes no longer held a crazed look, but a spaced-out one. "They're dead to us."

I looked around in dismay. Although I didn't want to leave everyone behind, I knew it would be pointless to try to sort through the mass of people in search of a loved one. Instead, I clenched Harry's lifeless hand tightly. "I'm not leaving him," I said firmly.

Luna didn't seem to have heard what I said because her eyes remained unfocused. Nonetheless, she said, "Let's go."

The two of us then began to creep across the deserted battlefield with Harry's limp body hovering a foot above the ground just behind us. We weaved through the broken limbs and battered bodies, crawled through the disgusting, insect-infected mud, all the while making sure we weren't seen by any living creature. At last, we found a half-torn down shack that we were able to take cover in. Dumbledore soon arrived, battle-worn and nearly beaten, but still there to rescue us and bring us to a safer place. But I'll never forget the sound of my heart pounding in my ears or the sight of the corpses everywhere around me, all dressed in black cloaks, making it impossible for me to differentiate between any two of them. For that reason, the hour or two Luna and I spent crawling through the darkness will remain with me for the rest of my life.



And so ends my tale. Dumbledore was able to locate an area in the south of Australia that Voldemort was not aware of. The surviving members of the good side, including Luna and I, all moved there. Currently, we are still residing in the very same place. Day and night we pray that Voldemort will not discover us, and so far, our prayers have been answered.

As I write these last words, I hear a scream pierce the dead of the night. Without even turning around, I know it's Luna. Like me, she is visited by the past every night after she closes her eyes. The sound pierces my conscious mind and I have no choice but to temporarily submit to it. I let myself drown in it, let it travel to the very core of my heart and stop it for a split second. Then, as her shriek dies out, I bury my face in my hands wearily.

Will I ever be rid of all this? Will I ever be able to open my eyes in the morning after a nightmareless night? The answer to that is simple - never. Yet though life seems pointless, and though everything I once lived for is gone, I will never forget what Harry told me. "A hero never cries." If I ever have children, I will pass that message onto them because those four words were and always will be the truest I've ever heard.