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Ginny's POV
His eyes are an endless oblivion that makes my knees weak and heart quicken it's pace. His smile lights up a room with his joy, a phenomenon not often shared. I was sitting on my windowsill, tears dripping down my face for poor Harry. The tournament was sucking the soul from him, more than any dementor the year earlier could.
No one trusted him, no one cared for him. They all wore those stupid buttons like jewellery, flashing them about in his gaze. Harry would look away, and I could see the sadness those intense emerald orbs held. The day earlier the dragons, in which task I gasped and yelled out instructions through the whole thing. I feel horrible about the dragon and Harry's injuries, and now the egg...
