I’m standing here, rigidly, silently, under the pale light of the cresent moon. The hot tears are trailing evenly down my cheeks, and I don’t bother to hold them inside, or to stop the salty water from hitting my bottom lip, so I can taste the bitterness. I don’t try and stop myself from balling my fists together so tightly that I’m sure my hands are white. And I don’t push back the overwhelming rush of darkness, emptiness, abandonment, and helplessness that’s quickly overcoming my guarded heart.
Why should I?
There’s no one here to see me cry. There’s no pitying stranger to point at me and say “Hey, look over there. Look at that poor little girl. Look, she’s crying.” Yeah, most people still think of me as a little girl, even though I’m already sixteen years old. Even though I’ve fought through a war, and seen my best friends lose their lives right in front of my face. Even though I’ve even used an unforgivable, if only for the purpose that all evil be banished from the world. Even though I’ve seen so many things that should have made me stronger, but only took away my smile, my laugh; the girlish happiness and love for life I’d once possesed.
They’ve stolen it away. Just like they took Harry, Ron, and Hermione, they’ve stolen away the fire that used to burn inside me. And I don’t think I’m ever going to get it back. I’d be completely taken back if I ever smile again. The real smile that everyone told me lit up my entire face, made the cute little dimples on my cheeks show up. The smile that made my eyes dance and glow with giddiness.
No, I don’t think the real me is ever going to come back.
Not now that Harry is gone, killed by Voldemort on his last dying breath. I find it pretty ironic that Harry should have to die, right after he finally fulfilled the prophesy and had the right to live. And he deserved that right more than anybody on this entire planet, I have no doubt about that. But he didn’t get it, and I think that’s exactly what broke the rest of us into pieces.
The moment I saw that curse fired at Harry, my heart stopped beating. The second I saw that green flash of light hit him directly in the chest, I felt the effect just as strongly in my own. And when he fell to the ground in a lifeless heap, I let out an anguished scream and immediately dropped to my knees. The battle was raging around me, but I could no longer fight. The will to win had seeped right out of me and dribbled to the ground. I couldn’t move. It was as if I were paralyzed. I didn’t even notice the blood all over me, didn’t feel the cuts and bruises and curses. The only thing I felt at that moment was anguish. Complete anguish that the only person I had ever loved was dead.
Harry was never coming back.
I didn't even cry. no, I was much to numb for that. The feeling that overcame me at that moment is undescribable. Completely unbearable. It hurt more than the cruciatus curse. It hurt more than the feeling I got when Hary announced, sadly, that there was a prophesy that stated he had to kill Voldemort or be killed. It hurt more than anything I could have ever imagined, and at that moment, I wanted nothing more than for the world to end, so that everyone would feel the same searing pain I was.
I sat there for a long time, just staring at Harry with flashy eyes that probably looked as lost and hurt as they could ever be. He wasn't moving. Harry, my boyfriend, my Fiance, the one who held me and erased all fears and sadness with one look, was lieng there motionless on the cold, hard ground. The only thing that could process through my mind was,
No...no...no...Harry, get up! Get up, please! Harry!
But still, he didn't move muscle.
People around Harry continued fighting, swirling around and firing curses as if Harry Potter wasn't dead at their feet. I wanted to scream at them, tell them that harry was dead. Everybody should stop fighting now, and start crying and crying and crying. Somebody should find a reverse spell for killing curse and bring him back to life, but they didn't.
The Battle went on.
And the only thing that snapped me back to life was when I heard Hermione scream from behind me. She was fighting Bellatrix Lestrange. The evil little bitch was winning. She had just hit Hermione with the cruciatus curse. Hermione was writhing and thrashing on the ground at her feet, while she only laughed evilly, hitting her with it again and again, until blood seeped through her clothes and came from the corners of her mouth..
And then, it was like the anguish was converted. Anger, rage, hatred…it all built up inside of me, and I killed her. I killed Bellatrix Lestrange. And even though I knew she deserved it, the initial shock was amazingly horrific. I felt like a murderer. I was no better than any of the death eaters who killed fjust or the sheer joy of seeing their enemy dead. It didn't matter that I felt so dirty and disgusting from it, I had still killed someone and that made me a murderer. And I hated myself for it.
So, while I was standing there, wand poised, looking like I was about ready to cry, someone fired a curse at me. I have no idea who it was,, but I think the curse was a stronger conversion of ‘stupefy’ that knocked you out for a long time, until a reverse spell was used.
Why they did not kill me, I have yet to find out.
And the last thing I saw before I fell, was Percy. Percy, my very own brother, killing Ron. I had but only a second to reach out my arm, in a feeble attempt to stop it from happening. But of course it didn't do a single thing.
Thankfully, I didn't have the chnce to see my favorite brother, behind all of the insults, die, from the wand of his older brother. At that moment I hated Percy more than anything. He was worse than peter Pettigrew, worse than Voldemort, worse than all of the other Death Eaters combined. He was family, and he killed Ron. I would never be able to look at his face again without having the urge to spit on it, and hope he died a long, painful death, by getting his soul sucked out by the dementors. Or worse. I wanted him to pay.
But I didn't have the time to do anything about it, because I was out cold before I hit the ground.
When I woke up, it wasn’t to the dark field where the final battle was taking place. It was in St. Mungos, with some healer peering over me, eyes concentrated and worried. I blinked a few times, trying to figure out where I was and why. But then it all came back in one overwhelming rush, and I started sobbing uncontrolably. The poor girl, who didn’t look much older than me, ran out of the room, and came back seconds later with a dreamless sleep potion, urging me in a soft tone to drink it. But I wouldn’t. I just sat there, bawling my eyes out for the loss of so many friends.
I later learned that Fred, George, Charlie, Luna, Parvati, Lavender, Dumbledore, Mum, and even my father were all in the death list. Hermione was missing, and assumed dead because no one could find her body. For a few months I hoped desperately that someone could find her, and I could at least have my best friend to grieve with. But after a while that hope dwindled to a spark, flickered, and died.
And a couple weeks later, a Death Eater was captured, put under Veritissum for information, and we found out that Draco Malfoy killed Hermione Granger. I could have walked over to him and slapped him sesnless when I found out. Punched him until he was begging for mercy at my feet. I would have only laughed and kicked him some more. I wanted to make him pay for breaking the last thin string of hope that I had.
I mean, I knew Malfoy was a horrible git, not to mention a heartless bully, but I never thought he was evil enough to kill another person. An innocent person, who didn't deserve a horrible fate so early in their life. Especially Hermione, who only wanted what was best for everyone else and not herself. Sure, she wanted to be happy, that's obvious, but her friends needs always came before her own. And that was one of the things that made Hermione sych a wonderful, selfless person.
It's such a shame that the world will never get the chance to know her. Hermione would have become one of the greatest witches ever to walk the earth. Everybody who knew her would say exactly the same thing. She could have been an auror, a healer, the Headmaster at Hogwarts, or even the Minister of Magic, had that been her goal. Hermine could figure out something in a second; something that would have taken me hours and hours to do.
But all of that, all of her accomplishments...they're gone...just like everybody else...
I have no one left in the world.
Do you know how it feels to have everyone who meant something to you, dead? In some ways I still am a little girl. I want my mum to hold me. I cry all the time. I need people to constantly check on me because they think I won’t even get out of bed without them. They think I might not even eat. And I probably wouldn’t do anything, had they not helped me along every step of the way. I mean really, what’s the point? I don’t have any reason to live my life like I used to anymore. And even if I did want to, I can't.
I just want to sink into nothingness. I don’t want to be able to feel.
It’s starting to rain now, and I drop to my knees on the muddy ground. I don’t care if I get a cold, or make my clothes a muddy mess. Fashion seems so naiive and pathetic to care about now. The only thing I want is to make my life go back to the way it used to be.
But I can’t. And it makes me so angry... so frustrated. Feeling helpless is one of the things that I absolutely hate the most.
The tears fall faster and pretty soon I’m sobbing hysterically. My body is shaking and I wrap my arms around myself in an attempt to stop it. But it doesn’t mater. The rest of my life is going to be a never ending black abyss. And there isn’t a single thing I can do about it. I don't have the power to bring back all those who were lost. I can't comfort those who are still alive, because right now I can't even comfort myself, despite how desperately I need comfort and soothing words, mumbled from the mouth of someone I love.
I've reached the point where I can't take it anymore. I pound the ground with my fists, sobbing even harder, even though it seemed most impossible just a few seconds ago for that to happen. I scream and scream and scream, glaring hatefully up at the sky, where I am sure that all my family and friend are looking down sadly upon me, wishing for my pain to go away and for me to not forget them, but remember them and go on with my life.
But they can't make it go away. They can't help me through this. I'll just have to live with it, with all of the pain and sorrow slowly eating away at my soul.
After a while the hysteria finally fades away, leaving me with a feeling of absolute exhaustion. I all but drag my feet along as i head back up to Hogwarts, head down, eyes cloudy, heart broken into a million pieces, with no one to pick them back up.
I'm alive, but I'm like a ghost. Wandering around aimlessly, with people seeing right through me. But it's not like I care. My life just seems so... so... Well, it's as if I don't even have one anymore.
It's like I don't exhist.
My name is Ginny Weasley, and my life was stolen away.
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