This is Hermione Granger, writing in Ginny Weasley's diary. I thought it should be finished properly. So, for anyone who happens to be reading, here is closure in her story.

It was about four hours after the tornado had passed. Neville and I went to Ginny's house to see if she was OK.
We were joking around, wondering if she was still in the basement. I walked towards her door, Neville stopped dead. I turned, wondering what was wrong. Ginny was there, lying in the road.
It looked like a tree branch had fallen off the roof and landed on her. We went to feel her pulse, then stood back, shocked. All those years fighting He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and this is how it happens.

I told Neville he had better call her parents. He was stood, frozen. I still can't believe what happened.


I have to go now. To the funeral. I don't know how her parents will manage. She was their only daughter. I always said she was spoilt, when we were messing around, but it's only because they loved her so much. I can't do this. I can't think of her as dead. None of us will ever hear her voice again.

I have to go. I don't want to be late. This is all I have to write. Goodbye Ginny. We will always remember you.


P.s. Ginny wasn't right, when she said people had probably died.

There were no fatalities.

Until her.