"Hermione! HERMIONE!"

"Yes, Gin?" Hermione was collapsed on the floor and was slowly wrapping a piece of cloth around her ankle, in a corner of the hall, near the entrance.

Ginny plonked herself down next to her. Ignoring the pity in Hermione's eyes: "Hermione, I need to know what a horcrux is."

Hermione froze, ankle half bandaged. "Where did you hear that word?"

"Never mind that now - seriously, Hermione, this is ridiculously important! Please tell me what it is, then I'll get out of your hair."

Ginny pleaded with her all her might and eyes, and something worked, because Hermione unfroze. She looked back down at her half-bandaged ankle. "A horcrux," she said, in her matter-of-fact I'm-explaining-something voice, "Is a part of your soul, held inside an object. Voldermort split his soul into seven parts, and that's what we've been doing. Destroying them. We still have one to destroy. Then Voldermort will be almost defenceless."

"So - it's your soul? How does that even work?"

"If you are killed, and have a horcrux, then you can't fully die. It's how Voldermort didn't die when he tried to kill Harry. I don't know how he does it," said Hermione, her eyes looking at Ginny again. "But however he does, it's extremely dark magic."

"So – how do you destroy it? A horcux, I mean."

"Several ways." Hermione tied the bandage with a satisfied nod. "The diary was one – from your first year, remember?"

"Of course I remember," said Ginny, as memories flooded back. She pushed them down with an effort. How could she forget?

"Harry destroyed it with a basilisk fang. I destroyed one earlier, with another fang. Ron and Dumbledore used the Sword of Gryffindor for theirs. We destroyed one in the Room, which was why we had to get you out, by the way. We used Fiendfyre for that one. The Room is pretty much destroyed now."

"Are there any horcruxes left, other than Harry?"

"There's just one, Nagini – wait, Harry? Harry isn't a horcux, Ginny," said Hermione slowly. Then: "Where did you hear that? Quick!"

"Harry told me." Ginny bit her lip. "We ran into each other earlier. He was heading to the Forbidden Forest."

"Of course." Hermione's head was in her hands, and she was groaning. "OF COURSE! I'd kill that Dumbledore, if he wasn't dead already!"

"What – "

"He has to die! Oh, why didn't I see this before!" Hermione wrung her hand, her voice growing shrill. "I didn't want to see it! Oh, Harry's so much cleverer than me, I should have bloody seen what was going to happen …"

"Look, I have to go." Ginny got up slowly. "I have to go – have to go find Luna."

Ginny left Hermione cursing in the corner, and wove her way through the crowds of people. The dead were laid out in rows. People were sobbing. There was her family, still surrounding Fred –

No, she wouldn't think of that now.

Ginny stumbled blindly through the castle.

So the Diary had been a horcrux, contained Voldermort's soul. She should have known.

Memories tugged at the corner of her brain, and she let herself fall into them, her feet slipping on the tiled floors of the castle and tripping over pieces of rubble from fallen in walls and ceilings.

/

Eleven year old Ginny sits on her bed. The Diary is open, its warm, inviting pages fluttering in the breeze from the open window. She is bent over it, pouring out her soul into its white pages.

I saw Death. When I was six. My family didn't believe me.

I believe you. Only a true witch sees Death. The Diary's perfect handwriting slowly travels over the page. How many brothers did you say you had, again?

Six, all older. Ginny sighs. It's really not fun having so many older brothers, though they're great for playing Quidditch with.

And your mother is Molly Weasley, correct?

Yes.

I understand now. You are the seventh daughter, and your mother was the first girl in seven generations. Seventh daughter of seventh daughter. You have a unique and special gift. No wonder you had the privilege of seeing Death. What was it like?

It was awful. Ginny writes the truth, her eyes tearing up at the memory. I hated it. He looked at me and I wanted to scream, and throw things at him, because he had taken my Grandma.

If you had thrown things at him, he would have deserved it.

He would have. Ginny agrees so fervently that her quill breaks in her hand.

She stares at the broken pieces, and something in her breaks, and she cries properly, for the first time in years. Harry doesn't like her and her Grandma is dead and she saw Death.

It just isn't fair, she writes eventually, after scrummaging for a new quill under her bed.

Life isn't fair, writes the Diary. We have to make it fair. Use every opportunity to our advantage.

And Ginny agrees, because she doesn't know any better.

And the Diary smiles back at her – if a book could smile.

/

There are swirls. The book screeches.

Ink splashes, and fades in middair.

It moves and sways, dancing above the fallen Ginny.

It snakes its way towards her chest …

/

Eleven year old Ginny wakes up. Harry – Harry Potter - is tugging her shoulder, begging her to get up. She manages to sit up. The Chamber, the Chamber of Secrets, is spinning.

She gasps, and hugs Harry, her memories flooding back.

How could she have been such an idiot? And now they are going to die, sitting her in the middle of an awful chamber, dirty and cold.

But no. They aren't going to die.

Death isn't here. She doesn't feel his presence.

She lets go of Harry's neck and squeezes his hand. "We aren't going to die," she says.

Harry smiles wryly. "Good to know. Now, how to get out?"

The memory fades. The image swirls and swirls and fades into black –

/

Ginny came to herself in a corner of a room, sprawled on the floor – she must have tripped. Neville and Luna were kneeling next to her, worried expressions on their faces. Ginny sat up groggily, her head spinning.

She wasn't sure how she had gotten there, or why her wand was in her hand. The abandoned classroom was shut up, the only light streaming in from a crack in the musty curtains. "Are you okay, Ginny?" Luna was saying.

Neville was holding the forgotten vile of Abstract potion from the Potions Classroom. "This fell out of your pocket."

Ginny stared at it blankly, sitting in Neville's hand. It was so dark, swirling in the purple vile.

"Go back to the Room, Gin," Neville was saying. "Lay low till this is all over. You've done enough."

"The Room's destroyed," said Ginny.

"What do you mean, destroyed?"

Deep breaths, she thought. Work out the next step.

Save Harry.

She looked at her hand – it was still shaking, but steadier than before. She pulled herself to her feet and leaned against the wall for a moment. Neville followed her up.

Her wand was heavy in her sweaty palm. She felt its power, felt it fluttering in her fingertips. There was really only one thing to do.

I have to save Harry.

Ginny nodded. She pulled herself up and rounded her shoulders.

"What are you going to do?" said Neville. "You can't fight, not like this."

"I have to find Harry."

"Harry? Harry's doing his own thing, Ginny." Neville shook his head. "He wouldn't turn himself in, I know he wouldn't."

Ginny shook her head at him. He is, though. Right now, as we're wasting our time talking.

"How are you going to find him?" asked Luna, her eyes purely curious.

"I – I don't know." Luna had made a good point. Ginny put her hand to her forehead and thought desperately. "Where did you see him off to, Neville?"

"I was just inside the Doors."

"Okay." So I was the last to see him. "He's somewhere in the Forbidden Forest. I just don't know where."

"Why not take the Abstract Potion?" Luna spoke quietly, almost offhand.

Ginny clapped her hands. "Of course! Give it, Neville."

Neville was slow to hand the vile, but Ginny unscrewed it straight away and swirled its contents. "Don't eat anything two hours after taking it," advised Luna. "It should wear off in under an hour. Avoid extreme physical stress."

"I'll try," said Ginny dryly. She lifted the vile to her lips, and jugged it down.

The thick black liquid tasted like dirt, worms, and what she had always imagined troll snot to taste like. "Urgh."

"It takes a moment," said Luna dreamily. "Watch out for the red and green and black ones; they're spells. Everything else is just remnants of jinxes and things that get broken, and peoples' aura. Also, Nargles are particularly attracted to drinkers of Abstract Potion, so always watch your shadow."

"We had better go," said Neville hesitantly. "Get back to cleaning up. Try and stay out of the way for a bit, hey Gin?"

"Neville –" cried Ginny, remembering. "You have to do something. Harry asked me to tell you – you have to kill Nagini. The snake."

"Kill the snake?" Neville's mouth was hanging open, and he shut it hurriedly. "Are you sure?"

"Harry said. It's really important, Neville."

The room started to sway a little. Neville glanced at Luna, who smiled back at him.

"Alright," said Neville. "I'll try – I'll try to kill the thing. Try and stay out of the way, though, okay?"

Ginny nodded, and watched as Neville and Luna carefully unlocked the door, leaving the classroom, the door slightly ajar.

The potion was working already. Colours were becoming a little more dimmed, and the edges of her vision were bright and clear.

Suddenly, a blue spark jerked its way through the open door. It fluttered in the air, before disappearing back through the door.

Magic.

She walked to the door, almost as if in a dream, and peeked through the doorway.

Swirls and sparks of hundreds of colours were darting up and down the passage.

Ginny turned – a spark flew just under her nose. She sneezed. She stretched her hand out, into the passage – and a silver swirl of magic wrapped itself around her arm, smooth as silk, before gliding back down the passage.

Ginny smiled slowly, and began to head towards the Doors, surrounded by magic that ebbed like water when she moved.

/

Everyone was in the Great Hall, and no one noticed when Ginny slipped outside and through the Gates. She glided down the hill, past the battlefield and Hagrid's hut. The magic was growing scarcer and scarcer the further she stepped from Hogwarts, though when she stepped bouts of silver swirls emerged from her feet and her wand.

Ginny stood at the edge of the Forbidden Forest and stared upwards at the tall trees. The last time she had been down there at this time of night, she had been sent in for Detention.

Deep ebbs of silver magic swirled inside the Forest. She could feel it in her body; right down to the tips of her toes. She aimed her wand inside and accio'ed a stick. A line of green sparks burst out of her wand, and silver swirls radiated off her body. She almost giggled as the stick landed in her hand.

The swirls grew. Ginny took a deep breath, and stepped inside the Forest.

She had to find Harry.

/

Getting tired is not part of the job description of being death. Ergo, I do not get tired.

Sometimes I wish I did, though. Getting tired is such a luxury; one that I do not have.

Lavender Brown's soul is – surprisingly – not lavender. Instead it is pastel pink, with flecks of grey at the edges.

After taking her away, I examine my checklist.

Up next – Harry Potter.

The boy is in the Forbidden Forest. Another wizard is pointing his wand at him. Harry is so open, so ready for death.

The spell is fired.

The boy falls.

I lean over him, and his soul is different than I had expected.

It is both cold, and warm; wizened and smooth; black and scarlet, and green, dark red, and deep brown.

Such a small, and large, soul. So young, and yet so old.

A contradiction.

I carry him gently away.

/

It wasn't hard to find Harry's trail. Silver swirls from his steps curled around the forest floor, and Ginny even found a small black piece of cloth, hooked on a branch.

Silver swirls of magic ebbed at her ankles as she followed the silver swirls deeper and deeper into the Forest.

At last, she came to a small clearing. The swirls of magic were larger here, the blue joined with red and brown and deep batches of custard-like yellow.

Something made Ginny look down. There in the middle of the clearing was a patch of silver magic, swirling round and round. In the centre there was a gap, and peering down –

There was a little black stone.

Ginny slowly bent and picked it up.

It was strangely warm in her hand. She put it in her pocket, and turned to leave –

And looked straight into the eyes of Death.

/

This chapter was written listening to the Stranger Things soundtrack – I'm a little obsessed! Does anyone else watch that show?

As always thanks for reading, hope you have a great day friend!

Review? xx