Taken from Ginny Wealey's Diary

Many thanks to KyahDreaming from http/ashwinder. for being my beta!

DISCLAIMER: Yada, yada, yada. I don't own any of these characters. Including Ted Grimaus, I'm too cheap to feed him.

I was sitting against the cold, hard, floor with my back against the wall, trying to eat a piece of bread. I'd woken up extra early so I could steal a few slices for myself and my brother. However, it seemed that my brother was fine without my help, he'd taken a couple of extras himself. We were constantly underfed in this dungeon, food rations had always run low, but this was the only safe place left. I nicked a copy of the Daily Prophet from the table (to keep the pilfered bread company), though I wonder how they run the Daily Prophet in this situation. Now's not the time to ponder on that, I remember thinking, as I brought the bread to my mouth with one hand while the other opened the Daily Prophet to it's first page. "The War has Ended: The Dark Lord is Vanquished! " it screamed. The moving picture on the front page portrayed a battlefield painted with bodies of the death eaters, and the innocent, but it matters not. What that matters is that they're all dead. Dead. The word echoed in my head, and it left me with a lurching stomach. I no longer felt like eating, but I made sure to keep the bread in my fist. My eyes scanned the articles that followed the picture:

"The Dark Lord was vanquished last night by The Boy Who Lived and Albus Dumbledore himself. At first it seemed that the Dark Lord was bound to be the victor, but a creature created by The Boy Who Lived's Patronus was instrumental in bringing down The Dark Lord. That was the turning point of the battle; the outcome was most devastating. Albus Dumbledore was in critical condition at the end of the battle, and before the medi-witch could get to him, he had passed. The Wizarding World is deeply mourning for his death. As for the Boy Who Lived, he seems to have disappeared."

I glanced around, seeing nothing but bodies, curled up and sleeping, and thought, Their faces looked so innocent. Turning sideways I saw my brother-- a piece of bread trapped between his jaws --reading the Daily News intently, flipping rapidly through the pages. I caught a small smile on his face, just before it slinked away into nothing. He also had a copy of the Daily Prophet, but he wasn't staring at the cover page. He was perusing another section; a section that I hadn't seen before. I watched his eyes frantically scan the pages, and curious, I did the same thing. All I saw was names, names that were not familiar to me. The bread in his mouth fell with a thunk to the floor as he whispered, "They're dead," over and over again. My body felt cold, completely numb; it was as if someone had ripped out my guts and flung them across the hall. I clutched at my brother, hoping to find comfort in him and at the same time give him solace, but it was just impossible. His pupils dilated, his mouth opened as if he was going to say something, but the words never made it out. His whole body was shuddering against mine. I clung to him and he clung to me.

I sobbed uncontrollably into his shoulder, trying in vain to muffle the sounds of my sobbing, and held my brother tight, while he reciprocated my actions. He was neither crying nor saying those words over and over again, but he held me. That was all I needed. After a moment or two, I started to realize that he was no longer holding me; his body was relaxed, and his breathing slowed -- not at all like his usual quick, shallow, breathing rate. Concerned, I pulled back, and examined his face. His features were relaxed, pupils still dilated, and a smile stretched his mouth that never quite reached his eyes. It was not the kind of cold smile that makes you shudder, but that strange, sick smile that you makes you pity, and yet feel disgusted with yourself for feeling sorry for them. My heart stopped beating, my breath hitched, and my eyes felt hot with tears again. Just looking at him broke my heart, and as more the tears filled spilled forth, I pulled him against me, and sobbed into his shoulder again. This time, however, his limp body rested against mine effortlessly, as if he was a puppet. And that was what had broken my heart the most.

It wasn't until I heard the familiar voice of Ted Grimaus that I relinquish the grip I had on my brother, and wiped my tears away with the back of my hand. I might not have anything right now, but I will maintain my dignity, dammit. The Weasley family has always been underestimated by the wizarding community -- just because my father happened to have a strange fascination for muggles, and the lack of galleons in our Gringotts account -- for far too long, and I refused to let this nonsense go on any longer. The Weasley family will not vanish, and that is my resolution. With that in mind, I pushed my brother gently down, and tucked him into his bed. It will only make matters worse if the others found out about my brother's condition -- though I realize that it is inevitable.

Ted Grimaus' booming voice echoed through the dungeon, announcing that the morning has arrived. With that tone, a few bodies -- at most, five -- stirred, though they did not make any attempt to sit up right. That was when it occurred to me that time had passed; a cold feeling shot down my spine. It means that at least half of the occupants of this dungeon had read the Daily Prophet, and had seen me cry. Immediately, my eyes scanned the room, and glared at every single person who had given me a pity-smile. I do not need your pity. When I had finished glaring at everyone in the dungeon, I dropped my gaze, and stared at my hands. Guilt invaded me; I was not the type of person who can be mean to another human being, it was just not me. In fact, it goes against my mother's teaching -- mother. I stopped my train of thought -- it just hurt too much, what with such a fresh wound -- and felt another sting in my eyes. I bit my lip, secretly pinched my own thumb until it screamed with pain, just so those tears will not spill. I will not break, I tell myself.

Again, Grimaus' voice boomed through the dungeon, and instead of his usual boring announcement -- today's announcement caught my attention, heck I was even surprised! He stated that the war had originally really ended two weeks ago.