PROLOGUE

This year in Hogwarts has been the absolute worst, worse even than my first, which is saying quite a lot about what's been going on at school. Even right now, after I've been at Auntie Muriel's for a couple of weeks, I can't shake off that sense of foreboding and continuous fear I always felt at school, and I'm still weary. but Snape and the Carrows and the tortures were not the worse part of that.

After Bill's wedding, I have not seen Harry, nor heard from him, Hermione or Ron, and the tension and fear for their destiny are driving me mad, literally.

i dream about him every single night, but those rarely are pleasant dreams, and I always end up sitting bolt upright in bed, panting as if I've just been running a marathon, and trying to get the image of his lifeless body lying on some unknown forest floor out of my head.

it's early May, and the night is warm and breezy, but something in the back of my head keeps nagging at me; it's almost like a small part of me knows something is going to happen soon. Right after dinner, while I'm doing the dishes and everyone is discussing the next moves they're trying to try in order to get out of Hogwarts all the kids they can, I suddenly feel my fake Galleon from DA going scalding hot in my jeans' pocket, and I realize, with a jolt of my stomach, that maybe this is it. once I'm done with all the pudding forks, I finally get to look at the coin. Neville has been quite brief, but the message is surprisingly clear.

They're here, we're fighting. DL coming at H.

I gat to the mantelpiece in no time, and before Mum can start ranting about it, Fred, George and I are getting out of Aberforth fireplace in Hogsmeade, and heading down the secret passage that leads to the Room of Requirement.

When I get out of it, I catch a quick glance of Ron, looking even taller and swankier than usual, and of Hermione, standing by his side, looking concerned and thinner than I've ever seen her, but then my eyes catch sight of him and I know there's no one else I want to look at tonight. Or ever, for that matter.

Harry is standing there, looking thin and hungry, but he's never been more handsome to me. We catch each other's eyes, and I can see a battle raging in his gaze, and I know exactly what's going on in his head. He's happy to see me, but not about the time or the location of the encounter; I suddenly realize that it is probably going to be a fight a lot harder than I would have expected.

That is why I put my foot down when they all try to convince me to go home, seen and consider that I'm still underage. but when I say that I couldn't bear to wait without knowing what's going on, I see comprehension flicker on his face, and he becomes a lot less eager to convince me to go, even though he's adamant when he says he wants and needs to know that I'm safe.

It's after the truce has been called, after I've already spent at least an hour fighting, and I've seen things I would rather forget, that I realize what he's meant all along. i am still in denial, I still cannot accept the fact that my brother, my brilliant, funny, smart brother Fred is lying in the Great Hall, dead, when something cold and extremely painful goes through my chest, and I cannot understand what is happening,because another truce has been called and Voldemort's troops have momentarily retreated, as he is waiting for Harry to give himself over.

i've just brought a little girl I've found wounded in the grounds to Madam Pomfrey, when the pain hits, sharp and icy, and my mother, who has seen me stagger with the force of it, coaxes me into a chair. She is distraught, but I can see the determination in her eyes. she won't let anyone else of us get hurt tonight.

And then, as I'm trying to catch my breath, and to convince mum that I need to get back to work, that I can't stop and allow myself to think about what's happened and could still happen, a cold, icy voice fills the Hall, reverberating in my head and making me shiver in disgust.

Voldemort's voice, once more magically amplified, fills the grounds and the castle alike.

"Harry Potter is dead. He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone…"

the voice goes on, but I do not understand one more word, not as my brain tries to wrap itself around the meaning of what I've just heard. It can't be true, I simply cannot believe it. Not that he was trying to run, and especially not that he is dead. I couldn't cope with that, I know I couldn't.

I find myself on the stone steps that lead to the grounds without even realizing I'd left the Great Hall in the first place, and when I see the crowd of Death Eaters, led by Voldemort, advance towards the castle, fear ripples through my body like it never has.

Then I see Hagrid, carrying a body which lies limply in his arms, and my heart shatters. i find myself screaming his name, desperate for an answer, knowing that he cannot not answer to me when he hears such hopeless longing in my voice… But Harry's body stays limp, his head lolling slightly from side to side and his arm dangling from his shoulder, and life has no significance anymore, a gaping hole in the place where my heart has been until now.

when the fighting rekindles in the Great Hall, I only want to take out as many Death Eaters as I can, overwhelming grief spurring me to revenge. I start dueling Bellatrix Lestrange, and Luna and Hermione join in, trying to help me bring her down. when my mum takes over, I watch the duel, almost without feeling… my fear has gone with my heart, and I feel so empty and shattered… But then, when Bellatrix falls, hit by mum's curse, I clearly hear Harry's voice scream a Shield Charm, and in a few more minutes relief truly washes over me. It's over, Voldemort's dead, hit by his own rebounding curse, and Harry has incredibly made it through.

Hours pass before he approaches me, and I realize he must have slept at least a little bit, seen how he bears pillow signs on his cheek, on top of all the grime and blood from the battle. I'm still sitting at Gryffindor table, beside my parents, while George and Bill are tending to Fred's body.

I hold my hand out to him, and he takes it, even though he seems to be incapable of holding my gaze. he lowers his head, and I can see his shoulders tense once more.

"I'm so sorry, Ginny…" he whispers, and makes to stand up. I squeeze his hand, gently, and stand with him. He looks surprised for a moment, but then pulls me gently toward the Entrance Hall, and I follow suit.