When I think about what is right and what is wrong I am always struck by the complexities of it all. From infancy we are taught that it is wrong to hit someone, but it right to give them a hug; it is hurtful to tell someone we hate them, but it is ok to tell someone we love them; we are allowed to yell, scream and laugh in the park, but we are not allowed to do these things at the dinner table. All my life I have been on the fighting side of what is right, of what is acceptable – my life was pre-determined to be good. But I failed. I failed to be good when I needed to be the most. I know, I know, I stood up and "vanquished" the Dark Lord; I put an end to the evil that had consumed not only my magical world, but also the parallel muggle world. When my friends and peers looked to me for help in their darkest hour of need I was there, I stood up and faced the responsibility that had plagued me my whole life – I was good. But what does this matter when the person with whom I relied upon the most had suffered my wrongdoings.
When I left to do what was right, I did her wrong. I left her not knowing what was true, I left her not knowing if what she felt was the truth, I left her not knowing that what she felt, I felt too. Truth. That is another thing that becomes a deep-rooted idea, planted within us from birth. To tell the truth is right, but to give false or misleading information is wrong, even in the best of circumstances. That is was a thought I was doing when I left her at the wedding. In a bad situation I did what I thought was right and gave her misleading information, information that told her I no longer cared. I don't know if she believed me or not, but that is beside the point. I did her wrong.
I did her wrong again. Every day of the past year I thought of her, I thought of her flaming red hair and personality to match which made me so mercilessly crazy and deliriously happy inside. I thought of our time together, first as my best friends little sister, then as my own little sister, next she was my friend, and finally, after months if not years of struggle, she was mine – my one and only. And yet again, I betrayed her. I kept telling myself that it was for the best, that not telling her how I felt was right for both of us, but it wasn't and I see that now. When I saw obstacles I should have seen opportunity. When I saw no hope I should have had faith. When all I could see was endless darkness I should have seen her there, holding out the light to lead the way. When I was scared to contact her by owl, I should have found another way. I was a coward and I shouldn't have been. For her, if not for anyone else, I should have been brave, I should have told her the truth, and I should have found a way. But I didn't and I did her wrong instead.
Fate it seemed saw what was happening and tried to give me the boost I needed. In the moments before the final battle commenced, she appeared before me, my one and only who I hadn't seen in a year was standing right in front of me. I should have told her then what she was to me, but I didn't. Instead I treated her as though she were a child, told her to stay put and be a good little girl. I insulted her in every way. I wanted her so badly in that moment. I wanted to hold her and have her tell me everything was going to be alright, that I didn't need to go out there and fight. But I ignored that yearning, instead I did her wrong.
I was going to die, I did die. I died without her knowing, without her understanding that my wrongs were for us. That what I felt was all for her, that what I did was all for her. When I died, my last thought was seeking her forgiveness, praying to the higher powers that she would understand that my life was destined for our selfish follies, but for the greater good – whatever that means now. No matter how much I wished my life to be hers it belonged to something larger. It was larger her and me, it was larger than our circle of friends and it was larger than our world. My life was good, my life belonged to good, but my heart belonged to her and when I died I prayed she knew that and would forgive me.
Forgiveness, another concept engrained in us from such a young age. When someone does do us wrong, we must learn to forgive. Not only the person who did us wrong, but the act itself. To be truly good we must let the bad go by, by understanding that it is not the person who is bad but rather their circumstances. The world is not full of bad and evil people, it is full of people who have let evil consume them, who have let evil take over their lives. These people are not fundamentally evil; they are just weak of mind. I am one of these people, I have let this evil take a hold of my heart and it has caused her pain. As I walk up these stairs I wonder if she will understand, if she will accept my truth and forgive me. And I think that I am being ridiculous, of course she will forgive me. Because she is that kind of person, she is inherently good. She is my one and only. She is my Ginny.