Disclaimer: I own nothing besides the worry behind this story.
You don't know me, but you know why I am writing. At most, I may someday be an endnote in her favorite book. Someday, if she wins. Otherwise, from what she has said, there may not be a someday for Muggles like me.
She should be living the life of a normal teenager. Balancing studies, boys, petty rivalries, and learning more about who she is. Instead she is learning how to battle, balancing the fate of two worlds while trying to be all things to all people.
You don't know me. I was nearly ten when she was born. I was studying for a year in America when she left for Hogwarts. I finished school while she was in her second year. I began teaching in Asia when she played with time and befriended a criminal. For the past six years and a half years I have learned of my sister's life through letters. I am her journal, instead of noting her life in the pages of a book; she began writing to me in her second year. When she told me why she decided to burn her journal and begin such a voluminous correspondence, the overprotective elder sister in me also wished to adopt Ginny.
By the standards of my friends and family I have led a full life. I have traveled and studied the world over. I have created a life for me in a strange land. I am respected by my students, my peers, and my superiors. As I continue to teach and study at the university here, I can see a path before me of further adventures and recognition.
They don't know me. As I go through the motions of my classes, whether teaching or studying, they don't know I worry about a sister about to begin her seventh year of school in a school for witches and wizards. As I commute on the train each day, the young man next to me does not know I worry about a sister who is about to leave on a hunt for evil embodied in Horocruxes. As I buy my dinner and a few bandages, I always was the klutzy one; the clerk does not know I worry for a sister who may be killed.
Each day I go about my business. Each night I am haunted by the dreams. I should not call them my dreams. I see flashes of a life, more foreign than any I have yet encountered. Apparently, though separated by a decade of life and half the globe's circumference, my sister and I share a close bond. I know somewhere along the way, she studied to find a way to strengthen this bond. She always was the most stubborn, brilliant, and utterly infuriating sister I could ever hope to have. When I suddenly began having these dreams a few years ago, they were followed a few days later by a letter explaining.
No one knows me. Hermione never mentions my name to anyone in her world. She has convinced our parents to give her all the photos that include me and to hide all mementos of my life in some secret place. Somehow our letters are kept secret. She fears for my life. I fear for hers.
No one knows me. So here I sit, staring out the window at the foreign city. While I stand out against the backdrop of the native people, there are enough westerners studying, working, and visiting that I merely am another stranger. I remain aloof towards most people. How can I tell them that I daily fear for a sister's death? A sister I have not seen in seven years. A sister who can levitate a book or command an object to come to her from the other side of the building. A sister who is destined to be a triumphant hero or a tragic casualty.
No one knows me. But her. She knows me. In our secret letters we plan and share our most treasured hopes. When the war is over we will travel together. I will take a sabbatical and she will flee the notoriety. We will take our backpacks and see the world together. When she is safe and evil is vanquished we will finally be able to be sisters. We will laugh, cry, joke, talk for endless hours, and do all that which we have been denied.
No one knows me. But there is a mechanism in place. A few months ago, when she first told me that she would be hunting down the bits of evil, she told me something which causes me to wake up in sweat at night. While normally one would expect parents to be notified first, I am the one that will be told if she is injured or worse. She told me that an owl would come bearing a letter from a Ministry. Whenever I hear a rush of wind, the rustle of leaves, a peculiar noise on my window sill, my heart stops for a moment as my stomach clenches. I hesitate each time I hear the beat of wings or someone pointing upwards. How do you explain that to someone?
You don't know me. I am the unknown sister of the young woman you admire. I am just a Muggle who has a fear of owls and has the most vivid dreams. I am just a sister waiting for the one I love most in the world to go to war. I am just waiting and praying.
AN: Yes, yes, not my usual. May or may not have additions. But as a sister who is immensely worried for her brother who is about to go to war and who lives in fear of that phone call or the knock of an officer...
