Ginny found herself in a huge crowd. Where was she? Then she heard her husband's voice, and was too ecstatic to realize it was too young. She elbowed her way to the front of the crowd, and saw Harry, 17 years old, circling with he-who-shall-not-be-named. Then she caught the words he was saying, "Because if it does... then I am the true master of the Elder Wand." Ginny smiled. This was Harry's most glorious moment. The sun would rise and that evil man would die. But some thing was wrong. It had been over a minute and the sun had not risen.
Suddenly, he who shall not be named smirked," You couldn't be more wrong, Potter. Avada Kedavra!" "Expell-," Harry began but it was too late. Ginny watched as, for a moment, a look of shock appeared on his face, but was immediately replaced by one of pain. He screamed in terrible agony and...
Ginny woke with a start, drenched in cold sweat. She looked to her side and saw Harry on the ground where he must have fallen. He was shaking, his body seizing violently. He was silently gasping for breath, in too much pain to speak or even scream. She attempted to pull his long hair away from his eyes, but recoiled as she was burned. Gently, she stroked the black, grey-streaked hair to the side of his perfect face. Her eyes widened, not in shock, as she had already known what she must see, but in fear, as her greatest nightmares had somehow found their way into reality. Though she loathed the thought of leaving him, she went to go get help, and the boy you lived lie there helplessly, his scar burning with such intensity that it emanated a searing white light. The scar that had not pained him for twenty years spoke its warning once more.