Why did you let him go, Ginny? Chances are that he will never come back. Yes. You know he would be willing to die if it meant we would all be safe. You know he tends to wear his heart on his sleeve. He may be noble and kind, but those things can be forced out of any good man if they are required of him. He had been born to be a hero, and he was meant to live the life of a hero. But he's not perfect. He has taunted death so many times. Fate will not always be so kind to him. Things don't always go his way, do they? Maybe this time he won't be so fortunate.

There was a flash of brightest green light, a blinding explosion of emerald in which a skinny dark figure flew back, his body limp and lifeless. All the light and color in the world seemed to cease existing as the figure crashed to the ground, broken and thoroughly defeated. An expression of fearful, yet determined defiance was still etched upon his face, though the warmth of his body was quickly fading into a frigid indifference. As all the familiarity and energy that he had possessed in life left his body, the last inkling of hope in the world seemed to give way to merciless chaos and hopeless terror. In the background, a triumphantly malevolent laugh echoed in the dim light. Now that all hope was lost, the sound sent shivering chills down her spine, causing her to cower instinctively.

Now, the owner of the pitiless laugh turned his wand on her. There was nowhere to run, no way to avoid the pain that fate had doled out to her. If she managed to figure out a way to escape, the misery would follow her. Without the Chosen One, discord and grief would reign unchecked. There was no way to leave it all behind, even if she tried to run. Like the man she loved, the hands of destiny had overpowered her. And, like many who had died for the same cause, she only had one last choice to make: whether she would be dragged into the arena, or she would walk in with her head held high. To truly honor the last few moments, she refused to beg. She would die, but with proper courage and dignity. Death would be the most inviting in a time of ultimate darkness, but she refused to depart as a coward.

She heard the words that had snatched so many out of the living realm, those hated, feared, despised, yet extremely powerful syllables. The last living moments of a victim, or martyr (however she would be remembered), passed surprisingly slowly. Unlike when she had been forced to witness the death of her beloved, the dreaded emerald radiance did not create a split second of complete agony. As the green light hit her chest, she felt her magical core dim. It seemed to take an eternity. It was near-blissful oblivion, yet she seemed to be screaming with all she had left. Perhaps the coward in her finally emerged, but there was no pain, no pain to be felt. She could almost see her soul escaping its earthly bounds. It was a strangely groggy experience, as if her life had just been one long dream, and her body was waking up.

It seemed her voice was the last to go. Her scream did not grow softer as she felt the whole scene fading away. Someone was shaking her. Her face was wet with tears. But she did not stop screaming, only taking pauses to catch her breath. The shaking grew firmer, yet not anymore violent. She felt her body shivering. So this was death…. so the oblivion that everyone talks about was only temporary…but there must be more….there must be more than this…

"Ginny! Miss Weasley, wake up!! GINNY!"

Ginny opened her eyes. Bright light flashed in her eyes. She blinked in the sunlight of a Saturday morning. It was all very confusing. Why were all these people standing over her? What had really happened?

"Miss Weasley! Are you all right? Miss Patil heard you screaming and crying in your sleep again. What happened?"

"Mmmm…?"

"Miss Weasley, if you're not physically ill, I beg you to wake up!!"

The dizziness faded away as realization flooded her mind. It was another dream, another terrible, horrific dream. Since Harry, Ron, and Hermione had left to kill Lord Voldemort, she had never ceased to be tormented by worry. Harry was talented, and he had the help of his two best friends. But it seemed to be an impossible mission. They were barely of age. They hadn't even finished school properly. He had brushed off the offers of all the Order members who tried to help. Dumbledore had made two grave mistakes in the last year of his life, one of which led to his own death. The second of which would lead to Harry's death, sooner or later.

Her dreams were not without reason. Hermione had been her best friend, the girl who understood her best. Ron was her older brother. Harry…well, Harry had might as well be another brother.

She had been deeply shaken when Harry had nearly died saving her life five years ago. In the Department of Mysteries, she once again witnessed him putting his life on the line. It broke her heart when he had point blank refused to court her, when she had spent so much energy into caring for him. It was a disappointment, that when he finally noticed her and let her into his heart, she was flatly informed she had no place there. The one man all her love had always channeled toward had selflessly decided to close his heart to personal relationships.

Perhaps it was for the good of the Wizarding society and the Muggle society, but, either way, there was a cost. Despite the fact that she was insignificant in the scheme of things, the amount of heartbreak he would cause if he died for them all would be astounding. In his life, he had touched so many lives, did kind deeds for so many people. Yes, he would be remembered in history as a martyr, a hero who laid down his life. A Wizarding Jesus. But Harry was not, and would not, be a god. He was a mortal, a pig born for the sole purpose to be slaughtered for the good of society. He would not be given any special privileges in death. All life ended at the same place. There were men who tried to befriend death and avoid it. There were men who were defiant of death and refused to be overpowered by it. There were men who fought death. But in the end, they all died. It was one of the few aspects of reality that never generated doubt from anyone. It was inevitable. It was the only thing one could be sure of in one's mortal existence.

And Harry would die too. His death was unavoidable, just like all other deaths, but his death brought the death of so many other things. It would mean the end of her longings and dreams. Perhaps this would be a good thing, as her feelings for him had become a heavy burden. But they also meant the birth of a more destructive concept. Surely, she would grieve and mourn him. Since he had first realized his feelings for her, and her yearning for him, she had vowed to commit herself to no other. She had insisted there was no man like him, so she would settle for nothing less than the real thing.

Although Harry was just another teenager, just as defiant, often narrow-minded, and stubborn as any other teenager, he was…different. The captured attention of no other man could be so exhilarating, yet give her such a genuine sense of absolute contentment. He was not the mystery male that the girls at school continually chattered about, yet knew nothing of. He was not the happy-go-lucky boy next door who always seemed to be exactly the same, and never experienced anything life-changing. Harry was so much more to her. And this was why it affected her so much, now that she could know for sure if he was alive or dead. She could not confirm whether he was within an inch of his life or in excruciating pain at the hands of a sinister foe. Her devoted concern had mutated into the horrors of her dreams.

Deep in her heart, she was positive that, just like there was hope within the darkest of storm clouds, her predicament had a silver lining. If she had not yet decided to explore the castle and search for an escape from her prison to confirm or disprove her suspicions, there was bound to be something restraining her. There was a moral that nailed her down, that signified she had yet to go mad with desire and defiance. There was some invisible, yet prominent force that overpowered all the negativity within her. A force that, until now, had been losing in her internal battle, but now gained the upper hand.

As her muddled thoughts cleared up, the victor of the fierce combat occurring within the depths of her mind declared itself. Her subconscious faith had kept her impulses in check. Without her full knowledge of its presence, her faith had single-handedly prevented her uncertainties from getting the best of her. Though she feared for him, she had absolute faith in Harry. And this faith had carried her far, or at least they cancelled out the seemingly impenetrable gloom that incessantly threatened to take over her being. Her faith and trust had made sure she would take a step in the right direction, if not keeping her stationary when she was tempted to take a step across the thin line that distinguished sanity from insanity.

In these times of despair, the strength of character that dwelled inside of her had instinctively showed up when needed most, knowing that life would depart with the absence of hope. If she had been left to her own devices, there would be a possibility of a loss of individuality and purpose. In her idleness, she would be vulnerable to more than depression, but to the practical and wise forces of nature. Without individuality and purpose, she would be a useless cog in the machine of human society; a defective part that demanded and required swift removal so its machine would continue to function properly.

Faith and confidence had revealed a new side of her. Now that she realized she was not completely lost in her emotions, she felt all her worries instantly lift off of her shoulders. It had been ridiculous of her to mentally insist that Harry, the man she would willingly trust with her very own life without a second thought, would leave her behind to grieve before the appropriate time came. She had never doubted his abilities. It was healthy to be concerned for his safety, but she would need to foster her confidence in his abilities if she truly loved him.

The discovery of her faith seemed to be a good start, even if it didn't mean the instant disappearance of her insecurities. That would take a longer time to correct, but there was already a sense of accomplishment in knowing of her progress, no matter how minor it had been. Though was nothing more an inkling of optimism in a mess of confusion and panic, it made all the difference in the world to her, and she vowed to cling to it and expand on it.

Her eyes now fully adjusted to the brightness of her dorm, she spoke with newly found self-esteem and reassurance.

"Yes, Professor. It was just a silly dream, nothing more severe. I promise it won't happen again. Hopefully it didn't keep you awake all night. We all need our good night's sleep in these difficult times, right?"