This is the beginning of a longer story, based on and in J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter Universe. I've never written anything for pleasure before, so feel free to let me know what you think, or where I might improve. Further chapters will break canon and develop a unique/interesting storyline.

She with body waged a fight,

But body won; it walks upright.

Then she struggled with the heart;

Innocence and peace depart.

Then she struggled with the mind;

Her proud heart she left behind.

Now her wars on God begin;

At stroke of midnight God shall win.

- W.B. Yeats (Pronouns Edited)

Prologue: Or, the Body:

Any outsider would think Ginny Weasley was having the time of her life. All of her extended family had gathered for Bill Weasley and Fluer Delacor's wedding. The emsamble included many distant relatives that hadn't been to the Burrow since she was a child; great aunts and uncles, second and third cousins, many of whom Ginny barely recognised, if she was honest.

It seemed her family and friends were finally starting to realise that she wasn't a child anymore. The fiery-haired girl had barely been off her feet all night, and had more offers to dance than she could say yes to. She had a feeling it was down to her relatives' attempt to locate the pretty, young witch on their family tree. They pretended to know who she was but never used her name. They probably didn't want to risk getting it wrong. Ginny could not help but laugh at their confused efforts. She was having fun.

Chandeliers hung from the roof of the tent, and they glittered beautifully in the candlelight. The temperature was perfect, warm with the number of witches and wizards who had taken to the floor, but cooled by the night air. The soft clinking of glasses and low mumble of conversation mixed with the sound of music, which seemed to be coming from nowhere and everywhere. If there was a war on, there was no sign of it here. The magical protections around the burrow were as strong as they had been able to make them, and Ginny felt as safe as she had as a little girl, dreaming of heroes who vanquish the Dark Lord, and flying through the air on broomsticks.

She had even managed to steathly slip a bottle of firewhiskey from the table when her parents had become too tipsy to notice, or maybe, to care. Her mind was now running at a million miles an hour.

She could see her parents over in the corner, probably doing something embarrassing beyond words. She tried not to look in their direction.

Ginny had, however been keeping an eye on Harry Potter all the while, and she could guess from his face that he would like to share what he thought of her antics. It had been Harry, though, not her, who had broken off their relationship after Dumbledore had died, and he didn't have a leg to stand on.

Yes, Ginny imagined a certain onlooker might think she was having a wonderful time without him, but that wasn't totally true. She couldn't help feeling a little guilty whenever her brown eyes made contact with his green ones: though the firewhiskey had helped quench those... stirrings.

She still had feelings for Harry. And he had feelings for her, that much was obvious. She just didn't quiet know what do to about it. Harry had left her to "protect" her from Voldemort. And so far, admittedly, it had worked. So she struck back with her body to petty, selfish ends. It made her feel worthless, but she did it anyway.

Ron Weasley was suffering. His cousins seemed to be obsessed with his sister, which was worrying and a little sick, in Ron's eyes. Harry, standing beside him, looked lovesick. This also made him turn green. His parents had become far too drunk, that was for certain. Worst of all, Victor Krum was here, and Ron had said something to insult Hermione. By Merlin's Beard, he couldn't figure out what had triggered her. She had not appreciated him telling her so.

Things looked bleak. Harry was no comfort, following Ron's sister with his eyes forlornly. He wanted to slap him.

It wasn't that Ron didn't approve of the relationship. But when Harry had broken up with Ginny, he had expected him to keep some bloody distance. Was that not the point?

Ron just rolled his eyes. He had given up at this point. He knew he could not look out for Ginny forever. They were at war. He had to look after all his family, all his friends. Besides, by the looks of things, Harry was not going to let her out of his sights, and Ron might as well be off duty where her protection was concerned.

With that, Ron decided he needed some air. On his way to entrance to the large gazebo, he spotted Hermione, in a flowing red dress, now in conversation with Ginny. "Better Ginny than Krum", his mind mused. He laughed painfully at his own jealousy. Who could have guessed he would feel this way, now, when only a few years ago, the young, bushy haired witch who had invaded his carriage had been a minor annoyance and nothing else?

Ron reached the entrance, and ducked outside. The air was crisp, cool, and it numbed him. He hated dressrobes, he could not even wear a cloak with them. He was either too hot or too cold, and could not win. In truth, all of Ron's minor troubles meant nothing, even to him. His family and friends were all safe and alive despite Voldemort's best effort.

He still hated thinking that name. The uncomfortable feeling surround that name still made itself know. A reflex left from another time.

Ron's gaze travelled absently to the shield, its blue hue distracting, but it was also keeping everyone alive, and the creepy glow was a small price to pay. He needed to be positive.

"Yeah, I haven't lost anyone yet", he whispered to thin air. To Ron, that was winning.

He moved to rejoin the crowd, but he picked movement up in his peripheral. His head whipped around, wand already out. Something had come through the shield. Something small, obscured by the grass. It was behind him now. It was no longer small, now a man, his wand against the soft flesh of his throat. Ron had cared for that rat for years. He had recognised it immediately, and when Peter Pettigrew transfigured beside him, he felt no shock, only dull surprise that no one had checked if the barrier could not only differentiate friend and foe, but animagi too.

The barrier was easy to lower from the inside, and as Pettigrew waved his silver hand, it disappeared before their eyes. The pressure lifted from his neck. Pettigrew was gone, in rat form again no doubt.

Ron tried to turn, and found he could not move, then tried to speak, and heard nothing. Pettigrew had locked his legs and placed a silencing charm over him.

He knew the countercurse. He also knew it would take at least five minutes to fully break out of the body lock. Panic rising, Ron started chanting. He had to warn his family in time. Nothing else mattered.

Ginny crossed the dance floor with difficulty, dodging guests, to stand beside Hermione. They had become good friends after sharing a room at the Burrow. Ginny knew, should tonight go wrong, leaving her and Harry in a worse place then at the beginning of the night, it was Hermione that she could count on to listen. If she wanted her to. In some ways Hermione was the big sister she never had. But Ginny wouldn't worry her with her troubles. She never worried anyone with her troubles. Except Harry, once.

In a family full of older brothers, you cannot afford to show weakness. Your troubles could become the inspiration to the next line of products from "Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes". A memory jumped to mind: when her brothers had stocked 'Fresh Pickled Toads' for a while when she had begun dating Harry, credit has been given to 'G.W: Poet'.

Hermione was looking at her with a bemused expression, and the younger girl realised that she had been thinking aloud.

"I don't think I'm very good at confiding in people", Ginny frowned.

Hermione blinked at her. "What? Merlin's Beard, Ginny, are you drunk?".

Ginny just giggled.

But Hermione was looking past her, shock written on her features. Ginny spun on the spot, almost falling over, to see what everyone in the room was now focused on.

A silver lynx came falling through the canopy onto the dance floor. The stranger aspect of this did not quiet register in her mind. Ginny did not hear what it said as its mouth moved, but beside her, she heard her friend say something unexpected.

"Shit..."

There was a loud crash, Ginny saw a table flip. The chandelier fell, almost in slow motion, from the roof of the tent. It broke into a thousand pieces. Ginny just stood, confused. This was her brothers wedding. Nothing was allowed to happen. She saw people appearating from the corner of her eye. The protective enchantments must have been broken!

Figures in dark cloaks entered the fray, and, too late, Ginny drew her wand.

She saw Harry running, throwing curses and jinxs as he dodged behind cover. He dived behind a table, and their eyes met just before Hermonine grabbed him and, as Ron dove from outside the tent to grab her other hand, they disapperated. Ginny cried out, and tried to run for the spot the trio had been in seconds earlier.

"So much left unsaid..."

The first flashes of green light reflected in the broken shards on the floor. She saw a guest throw a stunner over his shoulder as he ran, which rebounded and, before she could think to move, it had hit her. The world went dark.

Ginny awoke. It wasn't sudden and panicked, or slow and groggy like the books she had read. She just awoke. She remembered being hit by a stunner, but not much else.

She could see the moon from here. Bright and piercing, it lit her surroundings. But there was something wrong with the image. There was something in the way, in the sky. Was it... the Dark Mark?

Remembering suddenly what had happened, Ginny jumped from where she lay and tried to look around, but the room spun dangerously. She thudded, heavily, back onto her back.

It was still dark outside. She mustn't had been out long. Panic had begun to set in. Was anyone hurt? Where were her family? She needed answers, so once she realised that she was in her room - perhaps she had been hit harder than she realised at first - she rose, wobbled towards her door and half walked, half fell down the stairs.

Her father heard her coming and appeared at the bottom of the stairs, catching her as she nearly tripped down the last few steps.

"Dad!", Ginny cried, "Are you okay, is anyone hurt?" Her Dad hugged her; "I'm fine, we're all fine. Most people apperated out, and since Voldemort only wanted Harry, the Death Eaters left once they realised he wasn't there. They didn't need to spill more potentially 'pure' blood. Once they saw you... go down, they cast the Dark Mark and left. We thought..."

Arthur Weasley sighed. "Are you okay, Ginny? We were worried you wouldn't wake up..."

" I'm fine, Dad, just a stunner that rebounded". Then, "Where's Harry?".

Her father looked grim. Leading her into the softly lit kitchen, he spoke softly.

"Your mothers a little upset. They took off. Its clearly not safe for Harry here, and not safe for us while he's here. I for one, don't care. I'd rather he be with us, but we both know that Harry's too noble to put us in danger..."

Ginny felt something heavy hit the pit of her stomach, remembering that she had seen Harry apperating away. Leaving her behind. Mixtures of fear and anger flared inside her, but the young witch did her best to keep her emotions in check. She would have something for Harry when he returned. This particular stunt had earned him a bat bogey hex: Ginny's specialty.

He wasn't allowed to leave her like this. Without saying goodbye, without telling her where he was going...

She closed her eyes, trying to find any answer that would satisfy her. She was not even sure what she was questioning.

She cared for him, she knew, but she didn't own Harry Potter. It didn't matter how she felt, he had the greatest Dark wizard, likely ever, to kill.

"Priorities, Ginny... He'll be back once he's saved the world", she thought to herself.

She exhaled, realised her fists had been clenched, and relaxed them.

Molly Weasley had her back to father and daughter as they entered the kitchen side by side. Ginny heard her mother muttering, "Oh, they could be anywhere by now!" She had a muggle map on the table.

Ginny watched her for a moment, then spoke calmly. "It won't help, Mum. You won't find them. If you can find them, so can He".

She bit her tongue. She knew no one needed to hear something like that right now.

Molly stopped, losing focus on the map.

"Well, I have their attention", Ginny thought. She braced herself for the reaction, then said what had been on her mind since remembering that the trio had left.

"I'm going after them".

Her parents turned to look at her. Then they started talking loudly, wasting air. Looking at her mother, Ginny was reminded of a clucking hen. They were both talking at her now. She had expected this reaction. She just stared vacantly back, then sat down. She was angry again. Ginny Weasley, always too young. It didn't matter what she thought, everyone else had final say. She felt sometimes that she was more protected than even the Boy Who Lived.

Ginny didn't want what he had, that fame came with a terrible price. It was not fame she wanted. She just wanted to fight for what she cared about. For who she cared about. Neither Ginny nor Harry seemed to have the luxury of free will. Harry had to fight, or see the world perish. Ginny wasn't given the chance to choose at all. She realised, of course, that her problems were nothing on Harry's. That her overprotective family held worth beyond words, beyond compare to Harry's only living relatives. She only wanted to have the freedom of choice her other siblings had: to stand with them.

Of course, Harry had only his two best friends standing with him now. They had cut everyone else out of the equation, even Ginny.

The trio thought they could take the darkest wizard in living memory alone. She could understand not wanting the order breathing down their necks, but Ginny was Ron's brother, Harry's...

She lost focus.

Harry needed her now more than ever. That was clear to her. No matter the specifics of things between them.

She was also one step ahead of her mother. She knew, generally speaking, where Harry was. Being privy to some of the trio's planning, she knew their first port of call would be Muggle London. Death Eaters weren't yet brave enough to blatantly murder muggles. London was still in, mostly, a normal state. And easy to hide in...

Ginny knew the city was impossibly large, but she also knew she had to try. If she couldn't find Harry, no one could. She did not really care how big-headed that sounded.

Her mother placed a cup of warm tea in front of her, the Weasley matriarch's energy sapped. Ginny wrapped one hand around it, grateful for the warmth.

Her parents were talking quietly behind her. She ignored them. She needed a plan. Ginny couldn't apperate yet. Certainly not that far. She would take a broom. It wasn't too far to Diagon Alley. If her brother could fly to Hogwarts in a dodgy old muggle car in his second year, she could get as far as Diagon Alley.

In that moment, despite rising fear and common sense combatting every thought Ginny had, she decided.

She would leave before morning. She first needed some advice, from the experts in all things rulebreaking. Looking at her father, she asked "Where are the twins?".

End of Part I.

Footnote:

I disclaim any ownership of any aspect of Harry Potter and all related to it.

I claim that this is a transformative parody in line with Free Use as a nonprofit work not effecting the value of J.K. Rowling's work, with no work of J.K. Rowling's used substantially, and therefore legal.