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.