Harry knew that he would die eventually, like any other human being. He just hadn't imagined that it would happen so soon.
He stood in Dumbledore's office, his heart beating frantically, his mind flashing memories before his eyes. The time he'd discovered that he was a wizard. The time he'd rescued Ginny from the Chamber of Secrets. The time he'd found out that Sirius Black was his godfather...
Ginny.
Her name resounded sharply in his mind. He'd momentarily forgotten that, along with his future and Ron and Hermione, he'd also be leaving Ginny behind. He'd hoped that maybe, after he'd destroyed all of Voldemort's Horcruxes, he and Ginny could get back together again. But now, he knew that he'd never see her again, and a gaping, aching hole suddenly bored its way through his heart.
"It's the only way to defeat Voldemort," Harry told himself, steeling himself for what he knew was about to come. Even if it didn't make him any readier for his fate, the fact that Ginny, Ron and Hermione would soon be safe consoled him.
He turned his back on Dumbledore's—well, Snape's—office, and slowly descended the moving spiral staircase, donning his Invisibility Cloak. Everywhere he looked, there were signs of the recent battle: cracks in the walls, ripped paintings, dented suits of armour and blood-stained floors. It made him feel fractionally better that everyone in this castle would soon have a much brighter future.
But what about the snake? Now that he wouldn't be able to continue the Horcrux Hunt with Ron and Hermione, someone would have to take his place. As he turned a corner, he saw Neville tending a wounded girl on the floor. A thought occurred to him.
"Hey, Neville," said Harry, pilling off his Cloak.
Neville turned and jumped in surprise. "Oh, hello, Harry.." he trailed off.
"Listen, I have a job for you. You know Voldemort's snake, Nagini? I want you to kill it. Just in case, you know, something happens to me."
Neville nodded determinedly. "I'll do it." Then he faltered. "Harry, you're not thinking of giving yourself up, aren't you? We're all still fighting." Fear suddenly shone bright in his eyes.
"No—er, nothing like that," Harry said quietly, nearly whispering. He felt guilty for lying to Neville, but he had no choice. He turned on his heels and, pulling on his Cloak, strode away from Neville, looking helpless, but at the same time, fierce.
He passed several others on his way to the clearing in the Forbidden Forest where he knew Voldemort was waiting. He didn't stop to reveal himself; he felt it would be too hard to turn away. When at last he reached the Forbidden Forest, with his sense of dread growing greater by the minute, he thought he'd finally got past the straggling fighters who were tending to the wounded people that were sprawled here and there on the Hogwarts grounds, but he saw a solitary figure hunched underneath a tree in the distance
It seemed to be bent over something. As Harry curiously drew closer, he realized that the person was a short, auburn-haired girl, and the thing she was bent over was a scroll of parchment. She was scratching on it with a quill. An odd thing to do, Harry mused, seeing as they were in the middle of a war. Seized with the desire to reveal himself, and pleased with the opportunity to distract himself before his inevitable demise, he pulled off his cloak with a flourish. The girl looked up, startled, then returned to her parchment.
"Hello," Harry said, sitting down beside her.
"Hi, Harry," the girl said. It didn't exactly surprise him that this girl, whom he'd never met, knew his name. What did surprise him was that, peering to look at her parchment, he realized that she was writing a letter.
"What are you writing a letter for?" asked Harry curiously.
She gave him a sharp, shrewd look, then went on with her letter. "It's to my friends and family, you know. In case—in case I don't make it out of this war alive."
Harry immediately felt worse for asking. This girl couldn't be more than fourteen, fifteen at best. Maybe she'd snuck back into Hogwarts to fight. In any case, she—and everyone else Harry had dragged into this war—were risking their lives. For him. This thought made him even guiltier for trying to postpone his death and he immediately stood up.
"Goodbye," he said quietly.
She gave him a quick nod. "I suppose you have places to be," she said, even quieter than him.
Harry nodded thankfully, and, drawing the Cloak over himself again, he set off into the Forest, his breathing constricted and sharp, knowing that he was walking towards his doom. His thoughts turned once again to Ginny.
Then he had an idea. His encounter with the auburn-haired girl a few minutes ago made him think about how she was writing a letter to the people she loved and cared about, just in case.
He fished in his robes and at last found what he was looking for: a slightly crumpled roll of parchment, an old quill and a half-empty ink bottle. After all that had happened, he was slightly in awe that he still carried things as mundane and ordinary as parchment, a quill and an ink-bottle around with him.
He knelt on the rough soil, not knowing or caring if any wild creature of the Forest would bother him. He dipped the old quill into the ink-bottle, and paused, not knowing how to start it.
Dear Ginny, he wrote, and dipped his quill in the ink-bottle again.
If you're reading this, that means something bad has happened to me. This letter is just an explanation—and an apology.
I'm sorry. Sorry that I had to break up with you. Sorry that we never got together again. I'm sorry about the war, and Fred, and everything—all the messes I've gotten you into.
I left you for a reason; I only wanted to keep you safe. And if you're reading this, I'm gone, but it was so you, Ron, Hermione and everyone else could have a brighter future, a future without Voldemort.
Ginny, keep safe, have fun, and above all don't ever give up hope.
Lots of love,
Harry
He placed the quill down, and for a few seconds, stared at the inky letters on the parchment. Now that he'd written it down, his fate seemed sealed tightly.
Harry tapped the parchment with his wand, and it sealed itself into an envelope, on which he wrote, 'To Ginny.' Then he looked around for a good place to leave it that he knew Ginny would be sure to check. He thought for a few seconds, then stood up.
The place he was thinking of was a little clearing in the Forest that he and Ginny would often sneak off to when he was in his sixth year. In the middle of it was a large oak tree with long, sturdy branches. They would often climb onto the lowest branch and talk quietly until sundown. Harry knew that she often visited; she frequently came here while Harry, Ron and Hermione were on the Horcrux Hunt—he'd seen her on the Marauder's Map. Best of all, the place was only a short distance from where Harry was.
He set off quickly, knowing he had only about fifteen minutes until Voldemort would resume his rampage. He reached the clearing in a few minutes, and, trying to control the flood of memories that threatened to overwhelm him, he climbed the tree and balanced the envelope carefully on their favourite branch.
He sat on the branch for a few moments, savouring the sweet night air which he was sure would be the last he would ever smell, and let the memories take control.
They were chatting about OWLs, Ginny's head resting on his shoulder. It was a beautiful summer afternoon. Birds tweeted around them and a particularly daring sparrow tried to land in Harry's unruly hair, which made Ginny laugh. He loved her laugh. It was happy and tinkling; it always cheered him up.
Harry had just returned from one of Snape's everlasting, dreary detentions. Ginny was waiting, as usual, on their favourite spot. Something was in her hands- as Harry got closer, he realized that it was a present.
"For me?" he'd said, half-laughing, half-smiling, and unwrapped it eagerly.
It was a small musical box, one that when opened emanated a tinkling, lilting song that entranced him- and it reminded him of Ginny. The song seemed like her laugh, like her voice. And inside the box were two tiny entwined figures- he didn't recognize them at first, but realized that they were him and Ginny. It was perfect. He'd seen musical boxes like these in Muggle stores, while out shopping with Aunt Petunia, but never had he seen one as beautiful as this.
"Well, do you like it?" asked Ginny, her hands in her robe pockets, looking a bit impatient and excited at the same time.
Harry reached over and gave her a thank-you hug. "I love it."
It was a few days before Harry had accompanied Dumbledore to go in search of the Horcrux locket. He'd been more miserable and quiet over the last few days, even with Ginny around. She was getting worried, and she cornered him the moment they were both perched peacefully on the branch.
"Harry, you don't seem yourself lately," she'd said, running her hands through Harry's messy dark hair. Harry experienced the same tingling sensation that he did whenever she touched her; it was like being hit with a Warming Charm, except much more comforting.
"Yes. I'm worried," Harry admitted. He couldn't tell her about the Horcruxes, of course, as much as he hated lying to her, but he tried to be as truthful as he could. "About Voldemort and the Death Eaters. And Malfoy is still disappearing all the itme, and I don't know where he's going," he added, frustrated.
Ginny huddled closer to him. It was a cold, windy evening, and Harry was glad of the excuse to place an arm around her and clutch her tight.
"You can't save the whole Wizarding World," she told him softly. "Harry, you'll have to fight him sooner or later, everyone knows that. But, seeing as these may well be your last few days of peace, try to enjoy them." She reached over and kissed him lightly on the cheek.
He was snapped back to the present as a pigeon cawed loudly beside him.
Climbing down again, he took the long and heavy steps which would soon lead to Voldemort, and then, his death. But his heart was considerably lighter, knowing that he'd left a part of him back in the Forest with Ginny, and knowing that whatever happened to him, he'd still live on in the hearts of others.