Even now, two hundred years later, the effects of Harry Potter's bravery can still be seen at Hogwarts and other places. Potter was one of the greatest heroes in the history of the magical world. He saved the world nearly single-handedly, only to disappear shortly thereafter under mysterious circumstances.
But who was Harry Potter, anyway?
Historical records of Potter's life and times at Hogwarts show that he wasn't always a seemingly invincible hero. Indeed, the earliest years of Potter's life were apparently spent living a slave's existence in his uncle's house. He slept underneath the stairs in a closet and did most of the chores of the household. He was unaware of his magical origins.
Potter's first years at Hogwarts were turbulent, though not so much as his final years. It would appear that Potter was never blatantly ahead of his peers in any way except Quidditch, though he certainly performed far and above his classmates.
No year in magical history is more analyzed than Harry Potter's sixth year at Hogwarts; the year the Slayers came to Hogwarts and Voldemort was defeated. Records of the time are a bit sketchy; it was a chaotic year, with military forces camping at Hogwarts, the new Slayer training program experiencing its growing pains, and the students and faculty adapting to life at the castle with an enormous, constant threat looming over their heads. It is perhaps ironic that Potter's life was a jumble of failed attempts on his life by Voldemort, meaning that the idea of "constant threat" was nothing new to him.
The defeat of Voldemort and his armies by Potter and the Slayers, as well as two garrisons of magical armed forces, is a day that no one to this day completely understands. Those who were there attest that it was Potter who finally defeated and killed the Dark Lord, but no eye-witness accounts have been found to this day. It is also known that Potter survived the battle, as several people were quoted as being absolutely sure of seeing him after the incident. Potter disappeared from Hogwarts shortly after the incident, and was never heard from again.
Two people apparently knew the truth, or as much of it as was known; Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts and the man widely regarded as the most brilliant wizard in history; and Ginny Weasly, a young Slayer with whom Harry Potter was in love. Both refused to release statements on the events that lead up to Potter's disappearance, and both died maintaining that silence.
So Harry Potter passed away into legend. Still, there are still today rumors of a dark young man with a lightning shaped scar that defends people from evil...
The young man with mousey brown hair left the front of the room to sit down. From outside the window of the Hogwarts History of Magic classroom, hidden by shadow, Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, sat and chuckled softly to himself. The little boy's name was Weasly, but Harry was willing to bet that there was more than a little Granger in his blood.
Harry dropped down off the window sill, careful not to stray too far towards the light. His black trench coat, a piece of clothing that he'd picked up from Angel, billowed behind him, revealing the dark scabbard of the Sword of Gryffindor.
Harry touched down softly despite the four story drop and ducked inside. He had one person to meet, real quick. Then, one more stop, and he was home free.
Then again, this was home once.
Harry still knew the inside of the castle well enough to find the hidden staircase to the Headmaster's office. When he approached it, he found the same stone gargoyle that had stood before the stairs when Albus Dumbledore had resided at the top of them.
Harry thought for a moment - he didn't even know the new Headmaster's name, let alone his password - but after a moment, he thought of it. He withdrew the Sword of Gryffindor and held it out to the gargoyle. Instantly, the gargoyle moved aside, revealing the stairs.
"Knew you'd be good for something some day," Harry kidded, and the Sword glowed briefly to show that it didn't like the joke at all.
Harry ascended the staircase quickly. He paused, wondering whether he should knock at the door, but then decided that there would be no point. He flung the doors open.
Harry was unsurprised at the shocked look on the headmaster's face. He was also unsurprised at how fast that look disappeared; very few fools got to this office. "Who the hell are you?" the headmaster asked.
Harry grinned slyly. "You know me, Mr. Headmaster," he said in a low voice.
The headmaster of Hogwarts looked at Harry for a long moment, attempting to deduce the identity of the intruder. Then, his eyes made the inevitable sweep up towards Harry's scar, and the headmaster gasped.
"It can't be," he whispered.
"It is," Harry said, shortly. He withdrew the Sword of Gryffindor from its scabbard once more, and turned the blade over so that the headmaster could see.
"How...?" the headmaster asked.
"You must have read the Headmaster's Diaries," Harry said. "And your...let's see...great, great, great, great grandfather must have known, as well."
"I've read them," the headmaster replied. "But I didn't think that it was even possible that you're still around..."
"I am...Professor Giles," Harry said, trying out the name after nearly two centuries of not uttering it.
Magnus Giles looked dumbstruck. "I...I don't know what to say," he said.
"You needn't say anything," Harry said. "I simply wished to say, 'hello', and be on my way."
Harry turned to go. "Wait!" the headmaster yelled. Harry stopped and looked back. "Why are you here?" the headmaster asked.
"Revisiting the past," Harry replied. He considered his next words for a moment, then amended the statement. "And putting a few old ghosts to rest."
The Wizard's Archives at the Ministry of Magic were even easier to break into then the office of the headmaster of Hogwarts. No one even knew he was in the building before he was in the archive room.
Harry walked into the large archive room, and the lights automatically snapped on. A panel slid out of the floor in front of him, offering him a cup of coffee, which Harry accepted with a wry grin.
Harry walked to a table and sat. He knew better than to try and reach the volumes that lined the cavernous room; no person had been up amongst those stacks in the two centuries since the archives were rebuilt. Instead, in front of each seat was a large slot, big enough to accommodate a book of any size, and a grate over the slot.
"Wizard Family Histories: W-E-A-S-L-Y," Harry said into the grate. "Late Nineteen Nineties."
A large book shimmered into view inside the slot. Harry withdrew it and dusted it off, and read the cover: The Complete History of the Wizarding Families, Volume 24332326534.5.
Harry opened the book, which he discovered covered every Weasly born between 1950 and 1999. Harry flipped the pages from the beginning until he hit a name that he recognized. Harry leaned closer, sipped his coffee, which was steaming, and read.
"Arthur Weasly, born 1962, died 2048. Was Head of Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office longer than any other person in the history of the British Ministry of Magic. During the first and second rises of the Dark Lord Voldemort, was a member of the Order of the Phoenix, headed by Albus Dumbledore..."
And so on and so forth. As much as Harry had once cared for Mr. Weasly, he didn't much care to read the full, in depth profile on him, as it included such mundane details as the date of his first lost tooth and the time he built an electric screwdriver from scratch.
The next Weasly in the book was, logically, Arthur Weasly's wife, Molly. Harry paid somewhat closer attention to Mrs. Weasly's section - he still remembered being there for her death...
As Ron was asking Hermione a question about Veritaserum, Harry felt a sudden, sharp pain in his scar.
Clutching it, he let out a small gasp. Ginny, noticing this, put a hand on the back of his head. "Harry, are you okay? Harry...?"
Harry looked up. The look in his eyes was frightening. "Run," he said, softly.
"What?" Ginny asked.
"Run!" Harry yelled. "We need to get out of here!" Raising his wand into the air, he yelled, "Accio brooms!"
As their brooms came zooming up, Hermione, disturbed, looked at Harry. "Harry, what is happening?" she asked, urgently.
"I'm not sure," he said. "But its not good. Hermione...he's here."
The three gasped. Harry's eyes still contained that frightening glimmer. "Get out of here! As fast as possible!" he yelled.
"What about mum?" Ginny asked.
"I'll get her, now go!" Harry practically screamed, and he broke for the house. As he did, it blew up.
"Mum!" Ginny yelled, tears coming from nowhere and appearing on her cheeks.
"Ginny, go!" Harry yelled, again. None of them had taken off.
"We have to make sure she's all right!" Ron yelled, and started towards the house.
A voice from the flames stopped him in his tracks. "Oh, what's left of her is doing very well. Actually, at this temperature, I'm sure she's only at medium right now. Perhaps even medium rare."
Hermione screamed as Voldemort, flanked by two Death-Eaters, immerged from the glow. Ron looked dead, himself.
Only Ginny and Harry seemed to have retained their composure. Seemed.
"Tom," she whispered. "I should have known that you would kill someone I loved."
Voldemort looked down at her. His approach never slowed. "Do I know you, little girl?" he asked. Clearly, the usage of his true name had surprised him.
"No," Ginny said. "I used to own something of yours...a certain diary," she said. Her voice was cold as a glacier.
She came to stand by Harry, so that they were shoulder to shoulder, facing Voldemort.
"Ah...yes, my diary," Voldemort said. "I had wondered what had become of that...I left in the care of Lucius, and he cared so little for my possessions that I feared he'd sold it...but I'm glad to hear that you, at least, benefited from it." He sneered at her.
Ginny said nothing.
Harry, instead, yelled back. "Never, never, say another word to her!" he screamed. He was losing it.
Voldemort, grinning, sniffed at the air. "What is that I smell? Rage? Anger? Hatred? From the good, noble, Harry Potter? Come now, Harry - you don't really want to hurt me, do you?"
Harry replied in a soft, dangerous voice. "Why don't you find out?"
Voldemort's smile deepened. "I don't think so, Harry," he replied. "Not today, at any rate. I just came to check in, you know. Drop by, say hello, murder your best friends mother...what kind of mortal enemy would I be if I didn't do at least that?"
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he was gone.
Ginny stood, resolute, for about a second. Then, she collapsed against Harry. He held her as she sobbed into his shoulder.
Two hours later, Tonks and Lupin found them, sitting in that exact same pose.
Harry's reverie ended abruptly. It wasn't one of his fondest memories, but then, he had precious few fond memories of that year. Instead of dwelling, he went back to his reading.
Mrs. Weasly's death was barely a footnote in the book. Harry was surprised about that. He searched the pages around the little paragraph, but found nothing more than this small note.
Molly Weasly was killed by Lord Voldemort during his second rise to power. Near the end of the summer, the Dark Lord attacked the Weasly home, the Burrow, destroying it, in hopes of killing Harry Potter, who was staying there with friends. No others were killed in the explosion.
Harry took another sip of his coffee, wondering why Mrs. Weasly's death was so...glossed over. Try as he might, Harry could not come up with a single good reason for it. It upset him...a little.
He read on.
The next entries were for the children of Arthur and Molly Weasly - the first being Bill. The entry went over all the things Harry thought of as amenities - birth date, education, etc. - all the things Harry already knew. What Harry didn't know was that Bill had eventually married and had several children of his own in the early twenty-first century.
The next entry was Charlie's. Harry skimmed it; he knew mostly of Charlie's fate. He'd died a few years after Harry's departure from Britain, killed by the dragons he cared for. It figured.
Harry flipped the pages of the book absently. As interesting as it was, and as much as he'd once cared for these people, there were only three entries here that he was really interested in.
The first was Ronald Weasly's. Ron had done okay for himself. Harry had heard that Ron had ascended as far as Minister of Magic, but he'd never quite believed it until now, when he saw the title in print. Ron had gone into politics shortly after graduating from Hogwarts, vowing to help rebuild the magical world and protect it further from the forces of evil. He'd had a good, long life, and he'd done a lot of good. He'd died of natural causes at the age of ninety-eight.
The next entry was Hermione Weasly-Granger's. She and Ron had married in their seventh year at Hogwarts. Here Harry paused, sadly thinking about missing his best friend's marriage. He read on quickly. After Hogwarts, Hermione had taken up teaching, and had eventually become the Headmistress of Hogwarts. Together, she, Ron, and the head of the Slayer Training School at Hogwarts, Buffy Summers, had strengthened and unified the British magical community, putting it back on its feet in aftermath of Voldemort.
Harry smiled a bit. His friends had done great things, and yet, he was still the legend. A stupid kid acting on instinct gets to be a hero when people who committed and/or gave their lives for the sake of making others' lives better got shoved off into a dusty book that no one had even touched for two centuries. It didn't seem fair. It was ironic, though, and Harry had learned in his time as a non-murderous vampire that ironies tended to be the most abundant types of humor.
He found that his hand was shaking as he turned the next page. Did he really want to know...? Yes, he did, but he was still terrified of seeing the words on the next page.
There they were: Geneva "Ginny" Weasly.
Harry read the passages that were the life of Ginny Weasly and felt his cold, still heart break several times over. She'd been amongst the survivors of Voldemort's attack on Hogwarts, and had gone on from there to be amongst the first graduates of the Slayer Training School. Ginny accepted every assignment given her by the Slayers. The assignments took her all over the globe. She'd died at age twenty-three, after dedicated years of fighting evil as a Slayer. She'd died in upstate New York, killed by a mob of engorged vampires.
A single tear slid down Harry's cheek. Twenty-three...she'd died so young...and for what? To save a bunch of thankless people who didn't even know what was going on? It wasn't worth it! It couldn't have been!
Harry slammed the book shut. His anger had flared for a moment, but it a quick death. His feelings for Ginny were still so strong, even though she'd been dead now for two centuries. He had to let go of it. That was why he was here, wasn't it?
Why was he here, really? How could he put Ginny's ghost to rest, if she was still so alive to him? The words didn't do what he'd hoped they would. The emotion was still there.
Harry looked down at the book. He came to his decision at last, and stood. He left the Ministry of Magic, bound once more for what was now home: Los Angeles, and Wolfram and Hart.
But who was Harry Potter, anyway?
Historical records of Potter's life and times at Hogwarts show that he wasn't always a seemingly invincible hero. Indeed, the earliest years of Potter's life were apparently spent living a slave's existence in his uncle's house. He slept underneath the stairs in a closet and did most of the chores of the household. He was unaware of his magical origins.
Potter's first years at Hogwarts were turbulent, though not so much as his final years. It would appear that Potter was never blatantly ahead of his peers in any way except Quidditch, though he certainly performed far and above his classmates.
No year in magical history is more analyzed than Harry Potter's sixth year at Hogwarts; the year the Slayers came to Hogwarts and Voldemort was defeated. Records of the time are a bit sketchy; it was a chaotic year, with military forces camping at Hogwarts, the new Slayer training program experiencing its growing pains, and the students and faculty adapting to life at the castle with an enormous, constant threat looming over their heads. It is perhaps ironic that Potter's life was a jumble of failed attempts on his life by Voldemort, meaning that the idea of "constant threat" was nothing new to him.
The defeat of Voldemort and his armies by Potter and the Slayers, as well as two garrisons of magical armed forces, is a day that no one to this day completely understands. Those who were there attest that it was Potter who finally defeated and killed the Dark Lord, but no eye-witness accounts have been found to this day. It is also known that Potter survived the battle, as several people were quoted as being absolutely sure of seeing him after the incident. Potter disappeared from Hogwarts shortly after the incident, and was never heard from again.
Two people apparently knew the truth, or as much of it as was known; Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts and the man widely regarded as the most brilliant wizard in history; and Ginny Weasly, a young Slayer with whom Harry Potter was in love. Both refused to release statements on the events that lead up to Potter's disappearance, and both died maintaining that silence.
So Harry Potter passed away into legend. Still, there are still today rumors of a dark young man with a lightning shaped scar that defends people from evil...
The young man with mousey brown hair left the front of the room to sit down. From outside the window of the Hogwarts History of Magic classroom, hidden by shadow, Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, sat and chuckled softly to himself. The little boy's name was Weasly, but Harry was willing to bet that there was more than a little Granger in his blood.
Harry dropped down off the window sill, careful not to stray too far towards the light. His black trench coat, a piece of clothing that he'd picked up from Angel, billowed behind him, revealing the dark scabbard of the Sword of Gryffindor.
Harry touched down softly despite the four story drop and ducked inside. He had one person to meet, real quick. Then, one more stop, and he was home free.
Then again, this was home once.
Harry still knew the inside of the castle well enough to find the hidden staircase to the Headmaster's office. When he approached it, he found the same stone gargoyle that had stood before the stairs when Albus Dumbledore had resided at the top of them.
Harry thought for a moment - he didn't even know the new Headmaster's name, let alone his password - but after a moment, he thought of it. He withdrew the Sword of Gryffindor and held it out to the gargoyle. Instantly, the gargoyle moved aside, revealing the stairs.
"Knew you'd be good for something some day," Harry kidded, and the Sword glowed briefly to show that it didn't like the joke at all.
Harry ascended the staircase quickly. He paused, wondering whether he should knock at the door, but then decided that there would be no point. He flung the doors open.
Harry was unsurprised at the shocked look on the headmaster's face. He was also unsurprised at how fast that look disappeared; very few fools got to this office. "Who the hell are you?" the headmaster asked.
Harry grinned slyly. "You know me, Mr. Headmaster," he said in a low voice.
The headmaster of Hogwarts looked at Harry for a long moment, attempting to deduce the identity of the intruder. Then, his eyes made the inevitable sweep up towards Harry's scar, and the headmaster gasped.
"It can't be," he whispered.
"It is," Harry said, shortly. He withdrew the Sword of Gryffindor from its scabbard once more, and turned the blade over so that the headmaster could see.
"How...?" the headmaster asked.
"You must have read the Headmaster's Diaries," Harry said. "And your...let's see...great, great, great, great grandfather must have known, as well."
"I've read them," the headmaster replied. "But I didn't think that it was even possible that you're still around..."
"I am...Professor Giles," Harry said, trying out the name after nearly two centuries of not uttering it.
Magnus Giles looked dumbstruck. "I...I don't know what to say," he said.
"You needn't say anything," Harry said. "I simply wished to say, 'hello', and be on my way."
Harry turned to go. "Wait!" the headmaster yelled. Harry stopped and looked back. "Why are you here?" the headmaster asked.
"Revisiting the past," Harry replied. He considered his next words for a moment, then amended the statement. "And putting a few old ghosts to rest."
The Wizard's Archives at the Ministry of Magic were even easier to break into then the office of the headmaster of Hogwarts. No one even knew he was in the building before he was in the archive room.
Harry walked into the large archive room, and the lights automatically snapped on. A panel slid out of the floor in front of him, offering him a cup of coffee, which Harry accepted with a wry grin.
Harry walked to a table and sat. He knew better than to try and reach the volumes that lined the cavernous room; no person had been up amongst those stacks in the two centuries since the archives were rebuilt. Instead, in front of each seat was a large slot, big enough to accommodate a book of any size, and a grate over the slot.
"Wizard Family Histories: W-E-A-S-L-Y," Harry said into the grate. "Late Nineteen Nineties."
A large book shimmered into view inside the slot. Harry withdrew it and dusted it off, and read the cover: The Complete History of the Wizarding Families, Volume 24332326534.5.
Harry opened the book, which he discovered covered every Weasly born between 1950 and 1999. Harry flipped the pages from the beginning until he hit a name that he recognized. Harry leaned closer, sipped his coffee, which was steaming, and read.
"Arthur Weasly, born 1962, died 2048. Was Head of Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office longer than any other person in the history of the British Ministry of Magic. During the first and second rises of the Dark Lord Voldemort, was a member of the Order of the Phoenix, headed by Albus Dumbledore..."
And so on and so forth. As much as Harry had once cared for Mr. Weasly, he didn't much care to read the full, in depth profile on him, as it included such mundane details as the date of his first lost tooth and the time he built an electric screwdriver from scratch.
The next Weasly in the book was, logically, Arthur Weasly's wife, Molly. Harry paid somewhat closer attention to Mrs. Weasly's section - he still remembered being there for her death...
As Ron was asking Hermione a question about Veritaserum, Harry felt a sudden, sharp pain in his scar.
Clutching it, he let out a small gasp. Ginny, noticing this, put a hand on the back of his head. "Harry, are you okay? Harry...?"
Harry looked up. The look in his eyes was frightening. "Run," he said, softly.
"What?" Ginny asked.
"Run!" Harry yelled. "We need to get out of here!" Raising his wand into the air, he yelled, "Accio brooms!"
As their brooms came zooming up, Hermione, disturbed, looked at Harry. "Harry, what is happening?" she asked, urgently.
"I'm not sure," he said. "But its not good. Hermione...he's here."
The three gasped. Harry's eyes still contained that frightening glimmer. "Get out of here! As fast as possible!" he yelled.
"What about mum?" Ginny asked.
"I'll get her, now go!" Harry practically screamed, and he broke for the house. As he did, it blew up.
"Mum!" Ginny yelled, tears coming from nowhere and appearing on her cheeks.
"Ginny, go!" Harry yelled, again. None of them had taken off.
"We have to make sure she's all right!" Ron yelled, and started towards the house.
A voice from the flames stopped him in his tracks. "Oh, what's left of her is doing very well. Actually, at this temperature, I'm sure she's only at medium right now. Perhaps even medium rare."
Hermione screamed as Voldemort, flanked by two Death-Eaters, immerged from the glow. Ron looked dead, himself.
Only Ginny and Harry seemed to have retained their composure. Seemed.
"Tom," she whispered. "I should have known that you would kill someone I loved."
Voldemort looked down at her. His approach never slowed. "Do I know you, little girl?" he asked. Clearly, the usage of his true name had surprised him.
"No," Ginny said. "I used to own something of yours...a certain diary," she said. Her voice was cold as a glacier.
She came to stand by Harry, so that they were shoulder to shoulder, facing Voldemort.
"Ah...yes, my diary," Voldemort said. "I had wondered what had become of that...I left in the care of Lucius, and he cared so little for my possessions that I feared he'd sold it...but I'm glad to hear that you, at least, benefited from it." He sneered at her.
Ginny said nothing.
Harry, instead, yelled back. "Never, never, say another word to her!" he screamed. He was losing it.
Voldemort, grinning, sniffed at the air. "What is that I smell? Rage? Anger? Hatred? From the good, noble, Harry Potter? Come now, Harry - you don't really want to hurt me, do you?"
Harry replied in a soft, dangerous voice. "Why don't you find out?"
Voldemort's smile deepened. "I don't think so, Harry," he replied. "Not today, at any rate. I just came to check in, you know. Drop by, say hello, murder your best friends mother...what kind of mortal enemy would I be if I didn't do at least that?"
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he was gone.
Ginny stood, resolute, for about a second. Then, she collapsed against Harry. He held her as she sobbed into his shoulder.
Two hours later, Tonks and Lupin found them, sitting in that exact same pose.
Harry's reverie ended abruptly. It wasn't one of his fondest memories, but then, he had precious few fond memories of that year. Instead of dwelling, he went back to his reading.
Mrs. Weasly's death was barely a footnote in the book. Harry was surprised about that. He searched the pages around the little paragraph, but found nothing more than this small note.
Molly Weasly was killed by Lord Voldemort during his second rise to power. Near the end of the summer, the Dark Lord attacked the Weasly home, the Burrow, destroying it, in hopes of killing Harry Potter, who was staying there with friends. No others were killed in the explosion.
Harry took another sip of his coffee, wondering why Mrs. Weasly's death was so...glossed over. Try as he might, Harry could not come up with a single good reason for it. It upset him...a little.
He read on.
The next entries were for the children of Arthur and Molly Weasly - the first being Bill. The entry went over all the things Harry thought of as amenities - birth date, education, etc. - all the things Harry already knew. What Harry didn't know was that Bill had eventually married and had several children of his own in the early twenty-first century.
The next entry was Charlie's. Harry skimmed it; he knew mostly of Charlie's fate. He'd died a few years after Harry's departure from Britain, killed by the dragons he cared for. It figured.
Harry flipped the pages of the book absently. As interesting as it was, and as much as he'd once cared for these people, there were only three entries here that he was really interested in.
The first was Ronald Weasly's. Ron had done okay for himself. Harry had heard that Ron had ascended as far as Minister of Magic, but he'd never quite believed it until now, when he saw the title in print. Ron had gone into politics shortly after graduating from Hogwarts, vowing to help rebuild the magical world and protect it further from the forces of evil. He'd had a good, long life, and he'd done a lot of good. He'd died of natural causes at the age of ninety-eight.
The next entry was Hermione Weasly-Granger's. She and Ron had married in their seventh year at Hogwarts. Here Harry paused, sadly thinking about missing his best friend's marriage. He read on quickly. After Hogwarts, Hermione had taken up teaching, and had eventually become the Headmistress of Hogwarts. Together, she, Ron, and the head of the Slayer Training School at Hogwarts, Buffy Summers, had strengthened and unified the British magical community, putting it back on its feet in aftermath of Voldemort.
Harry smiled a bit. His friends had done great things, and yet, he was still the legend. A stupid kid acting on instinct gets to be a hero when people who committed and/or gave their lives for the sake of making others' lives better got shoved off into a dusty book that no one had even touched for two centuries. It didn't seem fair. It was ironic, though, and Harry had learned in his time as a non-murderous vampire that ironies tended to be the most abundant types of humor.
He found that his hand was shaking as he turned the next page. Did he really want to know...? Yes, he did, but he was still terrified of seeing the words on the next page.
There they were: Geneva "Ginny" Weasly.
Harry read the passages that were the life of Ginny Weasly and felt his cold, still heart break several times over. She'd been amongst the survivors of Voldemort's attack on Hogwarts, and had gone on from there to be amongst the first graduates of the Slayer Training School. Ginny accepted every assignment given her by the Slayers. The assignments took her all over the globe. She'd died at age twenty-three, after dedicated years of fighting evil as a Slayer. She'd died in upstate New York, killed by a mob of engorged vampires.
A single tear slid down Harry's cheek. Twenty-three...she'd died so young...and for what? To save a bunch of thankless people who didn't even know what was going on? It wasn't worth it! It couldn't have been!
Harry slammed the book shut. His anger had flared for a moment, but it a quick death. His feelings for Ginny were still so strong, even though she'd been dead now for two centuries. He had to let go of it. That was why he was here, wasn't it?
Why was he here, really? How could he put Ginny's ghost to rest, if she was still so alive to him? The words didn't do what he'd hoped they would. The emotion was still there.
Harry looked down at the book. He came to his decision at last, and stood. He left the Ministry of Magic, bound once more for what was now home: Los Angeles, and Wolfram and Hart.