Ginny Weasley and the Seventh Year.

Summary: Ginny's sixth year was one she would rather forget. But, as life goes on, Ginny learns how to grow stronger, fall in love, pass her NEWTs and succeed in life.

A/N: SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG. I really am. I wouldn't be surprised if everyone deserted me, I really wouldn't. My most sincere apologies. First I went away, then I had school, then I had camp for 3 days, then I had surf life saving (which is a big thing in Australia) then I had to start writing my study notes for exams, then I had my exams, then I had all this family crap to deal with then I had surf life saving exam then I had to deal with all the Christmas stuff to do then I went away and I've got about a million more things I have to do for school which sucks because I'm on summer holiday. I'm so very sorry.

Disclaimer: Everything you recognise is, quite obviously, not mine.

Chapter 1: Coming Home

It was a month and a few days after that day at Hogwarts that Ginny Weasley found herself sitting in a compartment on the train all by herself. To be fair, the train hadn't left Hogsmeade station left, and she was saving the seats for her friends who had come down for breakfast when she was leaving for the train, but it felt weird sitting by herself. She hadn't been alone on the train since her very first train ride in first year. So much had happened since then...

Her mind wandered from her life at Hogwarts to the memorial the school had hosted 2 weeks ago. Kingsley had been there, as Interim Minister for Magic, and reporters had been there to document the experience, and survivors and family members of lost loved ones had been there.

And the Golden Trio had been there, too. Harry had written a speech – downplaying himself, of course, saying it was mostly luck and fortunate circumstances and coincidence and how much help his friends had given him – and Ron and Hermione had written one telling it like it was. She'd cracked a smile when she saw Harry squirming in his seat, uncomfortable with the limelight being put all on him.

They'd built a beautiful marble obelisk a couple of yards from Dumbledore's grave. On 3 of the sides were the names of the people who had died in the battle, engraved in calligraphic print. On the other side was a message, also engraved in calligraphy:

On May 2nd, 1998,

55 valiant souls lost their lives fighting against Lord Voldemort on the ground of Hogwarts.

Their memory will live on eternally,

As we, who remain, remember them.

Lest We Forget.

She remembered the enormous amount of effort she'd put in to stop herself from crying. She remembered how that failed miserably, and how fast the tears were falling when they started talking about Fred, Tonks, Remus and Colin. Poor Colin. Colin had been one of her first friends at Hogwarts. They'd met by way of the Chamber, since Colin had been Petrified and she had been...captured.

She remembered how much McGonagall had cried that day over who were mostly ex-students of hers and her Gryffindors. She had no idea that her Transfiguration professor cared so strongly about her pupils. She knew that there was a soft spot in McGonagall's heart for all Gryffindors, but when she heard her teacher cry out at the sight of Harry's supposed dead body...even now she had to hold back a shudder at the memory. She had never dreamed of something that sounded so defeated, so broken, until Harry's name was ripped from her when she'd seen him for herself. Professor McGonagall had been a constant to her, a pillar of strength when all hope seemed lost...and to see her look so crushed was something she'd never be able to forget.

She remembered seeing Ron and Hermione, crying silently together, Hermione clasping Ron's hand so tightly she was afraid Ron's hand might fall off. She smirked to herself at the thought of her brother and the girl she considered her sister. Their relationship was, simply put, complicated. Hermione had told her that, during the first month of their first year, she'd regarded Ron and Harry of nothing short of an acquaintance (more 'nuisance' on Ron's part, the older girl had admitted, giggling). Then when they'd saved her from the troll on Hallowe'en, they'd become friends. Like her and Colin, they'd bonded after a life-threatening experience. But, unlike her and Colin, Ron and Hermione rowed like the world was ending over the most trivial things. Unlike her and Colin, Harry was always caught in the middle between his 2 best friends shouting at the top of their voices at each other. Unlike her and Colin, Ron and Hermione got together. Unlike her and Colin, both of them made it out of the war alive. But, then again, Ginny had never thought of Colin romantically. It felt like incest to her when people asked her if she was dating Colin. She'd stiffen, laugh, and reply that Colin was her best guy friend, not her boyfriend.

She remembered how outraged Hermione had been when Harry commented that he noticed Dobby's name wasn't engraved on the obelisk. At the time, she'd had trouble hiding her laughter. But now that she was looking back on it, Hermione's heart was really in the right place. Hermione had mentioned briefly that Dobby had died saving them from Malfoy Manor. She remembered the tears welling up her eyes when Hermione had told her this. Out of the original Harry Potter Fan Club, she was the only one left. Both Colin and Dobby had gone, and she was the last one.

She remembered how hard her mother had cried when they read Fred's name. No parent should have to face the horrifying truth and guilt of burying their child, their own flesh and blood. To her, that seemed immoral, wrong, a sin against nature. Every child deserved the chance to live, and Fred was more of a child than she was. He deserved happiness and family and love and friends who wanted to support him. But he was dead – she flinched when she thought this – and nobody knew what dead people felt. Oh, sure, they were once human and breathing and, well, alive, but nobody knew what dead people thought. Or felt. It wasn't exactly a very advanced study.

She remembered the lost and confused faces of the Malfoys. Memories of their unwillingness to fight and determination to stay in their little trio flooded her brain as she remembered the Malfoys. They had been rather sadistic in the beginning – she couldn't say the same for Narcissa Malfoy, who she had never met and probably never would, but she felt absolutely certain about Lucius and Draco – but in the end, they had shown their true colours. It had been all about family pride and upholding pure-blood tradition and pretty much being a snob. She would not deny that – the Malfoys were stuck-up, up-tight snobs who looked down on absolutely everyone who they considered wasn't what they called a 'proper' pure-blood or anything close to a pure-blood. Draco had been particularly nasty during all their Hogwarts years to all of them. He hated Harry for many reasons, but it was all fuelled by one thing that was plainly obvious – jealousy. Draco Malfoy was jealous of the attention and skill and popularity of Harry Potter. It was a fact of life. Hermione was a Muggle-born – self-explanatory in itself, despite her obvious good looks and intelligence. And Ron was – well, he was being Ron. He was jealous of Draco's money and good looks and confidence, and Ron was a blood traitor in Draco Malfoy's eyes. You were either a proud pure-blood, or you were scum.

She remembered how she had been the last one to leave the ceremony. She'd been sitting in her chair for half an hour after everyone had left. She was sure someone had seen her, but it had been a communal day of mourning. It wouldn't look so out of place that someone would come up to her and ask her what was wrong. After all, she had lost a brother and several good friends. It would be natural to mourn her brother's death.

No, she'd been thinking of someone else. She laughed bitterly to herself when she thought his name. Harry Potter. Of course she was thinking about him. Her crush on him had not exactly been very private and smooth – it had been embarrassingly public and awkwardly uncomfortable for everyone. The school had never let her live it down to such an extent that it was entirely forgotten. Her friends, even now, still teased her about it light-heartedly.

She'd been thinking about how, despite the circumstances, he'd looked so unnaturally gorgeous that morning, with his gloriously black hair windswept like he'd just jumped out of bed; his green eyes not quite that beautiful emerald green they normally were but were on the way to becoming; his gaze powerful and annoyingly attention-holding; his face flushing a soft pink when Ron and Hermione had praised him so openly. She had memorised his every action for every occasion – now that she had seen him at a wedding, a funeral, a battle, a date and a memorial.

The compartment door opened, and she jumped up, drawing her wand.

"Oh, are you defending yourself against the Mulgawumps?" came the floaty voice of Luna Lovegood. "How clever of you – I'd pull my wand out, but I had to hide it in my trunk from the Woozies."

"Why are we drawing our wands?" came the voice of Neville, who appeared a second later holding Hannah's hand. She noticed as his eyes darted to the wand she was holding in her hand. "Should I be worried?

Ginny sighed, smiled, and put her wand away, sitting back down. "Just defending myself against the Mulgawumps."

Neville smiled, understanding what she was saying. "Good to know we can count on you, Ginny."

Ginny noticed the momentary look of confusion on Hannah's face before Neville whispered something briefly in her ear. She smiled too, finally understanding.

"Plans for the holiday, Luna?" Ginny asked.

"Oh, yes," Luna replied excitedly. "I'm going away to South America with Daddy, then when I graduate we'll go back again. We're going to meet up with a friend of his, Dimitri Scamander, and he's going to help us look for the Hoobler fish."

"Scamander? Any relation to Newt Scamander, by any chance?" Hannah asked.

"Dimitri is Newt Scamander's son," Luna said proudly. "And Rolf is Dimitri's son."

"Rolf?" Ginny asked, smirking. "Who's Rolf, Luna?"

For the first time in her life, Ginny saw Luna Lovegood flush pink at the sound of his name. Luna had never been embarrassed by anything. "He's Dimitri's son, I told you," she replied. "And I've been writing to him for a month now. Daddy brought Dimitri and Rolf to the memorial with him, and I met Rolf there."

"So all four of you are going off to South America? Lucky girl," Hannah remarked. "I'll be in England all holiday, looking for a job so I don't go broke. What about you, Ginny?"

"Personally, I think I'll win the family bet on when Ron will pop the question to Hermione," she laughed. "Which will be before New Year's. Then a very overdue and hopefully very long conversation with Hermione…then I'll hop back on the train September first. It'll be as boring as it always is," she concluded.

"And Harry?" Hannah asked.

Ginny sighed, and forced herself a small smile.

"I don't know," she said softly. "Maybe this summer, maybe next."

There was a brief silence where Ginny looked up at Neville. "What about you, Neville? You're being very quiet."

Neville had been looking out the window when she said this, and when he looked at her she saw his eyes shining.

"I'll be visiting my parents with Gran," he said proudly. "And I'll tell them the good news."

Ginny watched as Hannah slid her hand into one of Neville's and squeeze it comfortingly. He turned to look at Hannah as she gave him a smile.

"They'll be happy together," Luna whispered in her ear. "The Gimbleflies told me."

The rest of the train ride was spent in mostly silence. Everyone was too distracted and too caught up by the school year that had just ended to pay much attention to everyone else's obliviousness. Once or twice, Ginny looked up to see Hannah and Neville whispering softly to each other, and she sighed inwardly before looking back out the window. It had been a long time since someone had looked at her with that loving, adoring look so had so often seen on Ron in the company of Hermione. She tried not to think of her best friend and brother's other best friend, and instead focussed on her disastrous relationships prior to Harry.

Both Michael and Dean had that adoring sort of look in the early stages of the relationship – very early, in Michael's case. But Michael couldn't understand why she needed a best friend like Hermione and a boyfriend. He couldn't understand how she could place so much faith in Harry, and why she could calmly accept Harry's story about Cedric's death without question and debate. He couldn't understand that she could be friends with her brother and not want to beat him up all the time. He couldn't understand anything that was mildly important to her – her loyalty to Gryffindor, her compassion for her friends, her pride in her family, and her faith in Harry Potter. She wanted someone who was mature enough to understand those parts of her. And Michael didn't understand. Especially her loyalty to Gryffindor.

Dean…well, Dean understood most things about her, but he couldn't understand why she didn't want someone who would look after her and make sure she was well-fed and well cared for and in good hands. In the beginning, she felt touched that someone cared that much about her. But as the months drew on, it passed beyond the point of irritation, and it had annoyed her ever since. He had insisted on pulling her chair out for her – every day – and 'helping' her through the portrait hole, which was more like pushing her every single time. Most of the time, it made her question her relationship with him. But then he'd draw a beautiful picture of her or pull out some horribly corny line that would make her push his faults to the back of her head. She couldn't help but to compare Dean to Harry that year, almost always in Harry's favour, especially when Harry started to show some interest in her. Dean made her feel claustrophobic, all the time, and Harry always let her go do her thing when she wanted to. Dean may have been nice to look at, but Harry was hot and buff – something she had been constantly reminded of by the giggling girls in the bathroom. At the time, she had liked Dean very much – but her heart had always belonged to Harry.

She was shaken out of her reverie by Luna.

"She's been attacked by the Mulgawumps – they're attracted to bright colours, and Ginny's hair is bright red."

"Who's been attacked?" she asked, furrowing her brow.

"Told you she fought them, Luna," Neville smiled, and Ginny smiled.

"Come on, Ginny, we're at the station," said Hannah, pulling her trunk off the rack above her seat and pulling off her Hogwarts robes to reveal Muggle clothing underneath. Ginny smiled and started pulling off her own robes, with Muggle clothing underneath like Hannah. Luna had already taken off her robes, and was adjusting a silver spiral necklace.

"It's a charmed necklace, to keep away the Woozies," she said seriously. "It will stop them from stealing my wand and my dreams at night."

Hannah gave Ginny a look that clearly said 'Is she for real?'. Ginny smirked and nodded her head once, and Hannah broke out into a smile.

When the train had come to a full stop and the doors had opened, Platform 9 and three-quarters was a sea of blonde, brown and the odd blue hair, all piling out in an attempt to reach their parents and go home for the summer holidays. There was none of the usual panic Ginny normally felt at the end of another school year. Normally, she wouldn't be alone, and while she was always the first to reach her parents, she was all alone this time, and walked to where her parents had been meeting their children since Bill's first year.

Sure enough, she could spot the bright red hair that indicated a Weasley, and her mind jumped to Ron.

When they were younger, Ron had been her best friend. He would defend her when the twins attacked her, even if she sometimes attacked him in her joint pranks with the twins. He had never picked on her directly when they were young, and she confided everything in him. He had been a little sceptical when Ginny had been adamant that she would one day marry Harry Potter, but he had accepted it nonetheless. Of course, all that went out the window when he came back from Hogwarts. It was like that for all her brothers – they had somehow changed during the school year. Bill paid more attention to her; Charlie locked himself in his room to write letters to his girlfriend; Percy started strutting around with self-importance; Fred and George started using magic – real magic – to fuel their pranks; and Ron started treating her like the dirt on his shoes. After her first year...well, she had a legitimate reason for changing. She'd almost died, and she laughed at the thought of one of her brothers almost dying in their first year without her knowing.

She was brought out of these thoughts by the feel of her mother's arms around her in her famous bone-crushing hugs.

"Welcome home, Ginny, dear," her mother said, pulling away and eyeing her carefully. "How have you been?"

She shrugged. "Alright, I guess."

Next in line was her father. She had always seen him as some eternal tower of strength, and had never openly defied him. But when she saw him after the Battle, she had discovered some newfound appreciation for him. It was hard, trying to stand tall with all the pride and dignity you'd like to have when, inside, you wanted nothing more than to curl up somewhere and just cry. She knew that feeling personally, and she had seen in Harry more than enough times, but her father had seemed so strong, so completely balanced, that it had come as a bit of a shock.

Nevertheless, she hugged her Dad the same way she had hugged her Mum.

"Good to have you home, Ginny," he said as he pulled away.

"Good to be home," she replied as she noticed, for the first time, that they were not alone. Ron had come to see her come into the station, hand-in-hand with none other than Hermione Granger. She raised her eyebrow at her best friend, who was beaming, before Hermione's brown, bushy hair clouded her vision.

"You're telling me everything later," she whispered in Hermione's ear before Hermione released her, still smiling.

"How's everything at Hogwarts?" Hermione asked as Ron came over to hug Ginny.

"As amazing as it always is at the end of the year," she replied with a smile as Ron released her. "You can't really expect anything else."

Hermione laughed. "I guess not," she smirked. "I guess I'll see for myself next term."

"Next term?" she looked around wildly, expecting someone to elaborate, a smile growing on her face. "What – you're coming back?"

Hermione, still beaming like the world was hers for the taking, nodded. Ginny let out a squeal and threw her arms around her friend again. "It'll be so much fun, Mione, you and me – what about you, Ron?" she asked her brother. "You coming back to Hogwarts with us?"

"Yes and no," he said slowly. "I'm working in the shop with George. It's not really a one-man kind of job, and since Fred – "

He stopped, and turned to look at their parents, who were deep in conversation about Mr Weasley's new addition to his plug and battery collections, before continuing.

"Since Fred's...you know...and I need the gold, they're making a lot of money."

"That sounds more like a 'no' than a 'yes and no' to me," Ginny remarked.

"That was the no part. We bought a place in Hogsmeade, so you lot at the school can still buy their stuff – the tenants died...recently."

She took 'recently' to mean 'in battle on May the second of this year', and smiled inwardly when Ron said 'their stuff'.

"So I'll see you on Hogsmeade weekends, and whenever I can get up to the school," Ron concluded.

"And what about Harry?" Ginny asked, as they watched Mr and Mrs Weasley walk through the barrier between platform nine-and-three-quarters and Kings Cross.

"How would you expect him to be after something like this?" Hermione asked as they followed through the barrier. "He's moping."

"Of course he is – convinced it's his fault?" Ginny asked.

"Right in one," Ron said, taking control of Ginny's trolley. "If I knew where he was, I'd go down there and get him out of it."

"It's not healthy," Hermione agreed, when Ginny stopped walking.

"You don't know where he is?" she asked softly.

Hermione swapped a look with Ron, and sighed. "It's not as simple as that. It's true – we don't know where he is, but not because we haven't tried looking."

"Where have you checked?"

"Everywhere – Grimmauld Place, Shell Cottage, Tonk's parents' place, the woods around the Burrow, the Lovegood's, we even went to Godric's Hollow and Privet Drive – "

"He hated the Muggles, Hermione."

"But it wouldn't have hurt to check, though, would it? He doesn't want to be found, or he'd've come to us."

Ginny fell silent at this thought. He didn't want to be found? Of course he wanted to be found, Hermione was being silly, they just needed to try a bit harder and expand their searches...Harry most certainly wanted to be found, to see if they cared enough to try and find him. She, Ginny Weasley, certainly cared enough to go to the ends of the earth if necessary, because there was no way that Harry Potter didn't want to be found by his best friends and his...

Well, what relation did she have to him? She definitely didn't want to be remembered as the ex-girlfriend, and she wasn't as close to him as Ron and Hermione were so she couldn't be his other best friend, and plain 'friend' sounded stupid, and she wasn't going to kid herself and say 'future wife' or 'soul mate' or something equally ridiculous, because anything could happen, and she wasn't going to say 'friend with benefits' or 'close friend', because the former sounded degrading and the latter made her sound like she was just some homework buddy or something similarly stupid. Out of all of them, she liked the sound of 'best friend' the best, even if it wasn't entirely accurate.

To hell with not being as close as Ron and Hermione, she thought. Neither of them went out with Harry, I think I qualify for best friend.

"What was that, Ginny?" Hermione asked. Ginny turned to find Hermione staring at her, confused.

"What was what?"

"You just said something, something about qualifying for best friend."

"I did?" Shit, I said that out loud?

"Yeah...are you ok?" she asked softly, grabbing Ginny's arm and holding her back as Ron unloaded Ginny's trunk into the back of the car Mr Weasley had, no doubt, borrowed from the Ministry.

Ginny sighed, pushing her hair out of her face. "We all will be, eventually, I guess."

"That's not what I asked, Ginny."

"I know," Ginny whispered after a moment's silence. "It's just...it's hard, you know? Everything was so much better last year, and so much has changed, and I know I'll never get used to seeing a hole in George's head or Fred missing...it was just a bit much today, leaving Hogwarts behind."

"I know what you mean," Hermione said as she climbed into the back seat of the car. "It'll take some getting used to, I guess, but at least it's over. It could have been much worse."

Yes, Ginny thought to herself as her father neatly drove them away from Kings Cross. It could have been a lot worse. Ron could have died. Hermione could have died. I could have died.

Harry could have died.

These thoughts plagued her, right until Mr Weasley had pulled into the lane that lead to the Burrow. She had been, in fact, sitting in the car by herself for a good five minutes before she made any movement to get out, and that was only to take off her seat belt. She hadn't yet been subject to the horrible, nerve-wracking, soul-tearing, heart-ripping, pitiful sobs of grief some of the students had been through. She wasn't waiting for it to happen, or impatient that it hadn't come yet – it simply meant then when it did happen, it would claw at her very being and explode out of her without planning, and she wouldn't be able to stop.

After pondering this for ten or so minutes, she finally climbed out of the car and walked slowly towards the house. The lights in the house were on, and her mother's cooking wafted past her as she opened the door. Her mother was busy in the kitchen, happily chatting away to her father, who was sitting at the table and reading that day's Evening Prophet, and Percy, who was saying very little, but smiling. She smiled at him, and gave him a half-wave, which he reciprocated and stared out the window. She ventured into the sitting room, where Charlie and George were playing a game of Exploding Snap, and roaring with laughter when it blew up in their faces, and Ron and Hermione were sitting very close together in one of the arm chairs, talking very softly and sometimes not talking, but staring at each other with love shining from their eyes. Bill was, no doubt, with Fleur at Shell Cottage, and Fred was d–

She squeezed her eyes shut, mentally stopping herself from continuing that sentence. Fred was in a place none of them could reach him and, she hoped, safe from pain.

Her feet carried her up the stairs to the first landing, where she pushed the door to her room open. As she expected, there was another bed in there – Hermione's bed, obviously. She'd expected an inch of dist covering absolutely everything, but it seems that her Mum had done some cleaning some time between the history-making Final Battle and picking her up from Kings Cross. Knowing her Mum as well as she did, it was probably done right after they'd come from Hogwarts and moved their stuff from Great-Aunt Muriel's to the Burrow. She remembered when they'd been forced to help clean out Grimmauld Place during the summer before her fourth year, and she remembered how ferociously her Mum had attacked the grime and mess that had littered Grimmauld Place for so long.

She sat at the edge of her bed, and stared around her room. Even in her absence, it felt somewhat warm and inviting – no doubt some household-y spell her Mum had performed that she was yet to learn. Perhaps during Charms this year, they'd be taught household spells they'd most probably need. At the thought of school, her mind towards Defence Against the Dark Arts – who, in Merlin's name, would be willing enough to accept that position now? Or perhaps there would be more applicants in light of the recent Battle – people who had finally come to their senses and realised that protection against the Dark Arts was not something to be taken lightly or casually pushed aside; that the Dark Arts would never truly be vanquished, merely constantly kept at bay. Maybe they'd have a permanent teacher, for the first time in a long time – or would they continually ask people, even force them, into teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, knowing full well they'd be gone at the end of the year?

Her mind then crossed to the other professors: Professor McGonagall, who most probably would happily take back her post of Headmistress and continue on as Transfiguration professor and Head of Gryffindor House; Professor Flitwick, who would stay on as Charms professor and Head of Ravenclaw House; Professor Sprout, who would remain Herbology professor and Head of Hufflepuff; Professor Slughorn, who, albeit reluctantly, nevertheless agreed to continue being Potions professor and Head of Slytherin; Professor Trelawney and the centaur Firenze, who would both stay on as Divination professors, despite the former's constant arguing; Madams Pince and Pomfrey, who would both stay on as the librarian and nurse respectively; and Hagrid, who was more than willing to stay on as Gamekeeper and Care of Magical Creatures Professor.

She lay down on her bed on her side, and pulled her pillow from under her head, hugging it fiercely as if it would sprout arms and hug her back. How on earth would she be able to complete her schooling after such a fail of a year? More importantly – how, in Merlin's name, would the fifth and seventh years fare in their much hated NEWTs and OWLs, after such a disastrous year and a catastrophic ending? How would the teachers feel comfortable teaching in their classroom in the following school year with the knowledge that total chaos had reigned in their classroom, and that someone may have died, and lain dead in the same spot they were standing in? How would the students – especially the new first years and those who had been evacuated– react to the idea that hundreds of people had died within the very walls they walked? How would the survivors – which, now she thought of it, was only her, as everyone else had recently graduated or was already over age – feel content with the knowledge that they may have – and probably did – kill someone in the place that had become like a second home to them since age 11? She knew she felt a little tug every time she had the sudden thought that maybe she had killed somebody that night.

So it was a good thing Hermione was coming with her next term. Being the only survivor still in school would really take a toll on her – mentally.

Thinking of Hermione and the new school year that would start, as it always did, on September 1st, she thought of who would be the new Heads. She almost laughed out loud at the idea of anyone other than Hermione being Head Girl, that much was a given. No, it was the title of Head Boy that really had her stumped. All the boys in her year were idiots, she knew. None of them were role-model material, had exceptional academic skills or amazing Quidditch prowess; none of them could analyse a situation neutrally, always taking a side; none of them had the maturity to handle docking points where necessary and handing out detentions when the situation called for it. No, it looked like Hermione would be up in the Head's dorm all by herself. No, Ginny thought fiercely. She won't be alone – I don't care what anyone says, I'm moving into the Head dorm with her when she gets the letter telling her there's no Head Boy. Merlin knows we could both use the company.

In a daze, she got up off her bed and pulled her Muggle clothes off, putting her pyjamas on and thinking to herself, Where is Harry now?

Meanwhile, outside, under the shade of the trees, a lone figure watched as the light to her room turned off. A chuckle escaped the figure's mouth as he imagined her trying to stumble around in the dark for her bed. He took a step forward, as if to walk closer to the house, but stepped back after a moments thought. Taking another second to cast a glance at the window he'd been watching for the past hour, the figure turned and Disapparated in an unusually quiet manner, leaving only the faint ghost of his brilliant green eyes and his famous lightning scar.


A/N: 'Lest We Forget' is an Australian thing we say at Anzac Day (being April 25) after the Ode of Remembrance (which is saying how we will remember the people who died in the wars) and I'm not quite sure what the English equivalent is or if there is one, so I'm going with this unless someone tells me and I can change it :)

And as for the 55 people thing, if you look right at the end of DH it says "Fred, Tonks, Lupin, Colin Creevey and fifty other who had died fighting him." Then Snape turned out to be good so I'm going with 55 unless someone else has another number.

I am not, in any way, shape or form, implying that Ginny is weak, because Ginny is one of my favourite characters and I personally think she's amazing. In fact I admire her strength. Not that I would know, but I imagine being in the middle of the Final Battle that would alter the course of the entire world as we know it would be something huge to deal with. I am simply implying that she had her personal losses and was subject to some pretty rough shit during her sixth year, and anyone who could make it out alive would certainly deserve a big shiny plaque.

And, incidentally, no pun intended when I say 'soul-tearing' ;)

Muchos graçias to everyone who reviewed last chapter, it made me wonderfully happy :)

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year :) reviews, please