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Disclaimer: The characters of Ginny Weasley and Lavender are all properties of J. K. Rowling and therefore not mine (Unfortunately)
Summary: I'll put one at the end to explain it because anything I say now will ruin it.
Authors Notes: This is very depressing so anyone not liking that I suggest you turn away now. Also this involves a character death so be warned. The poem "Shattered" is mine, please tell me what you think.
Feedback/Reviews: Loads, although flamers will be ignored and eaten by my pet dragon, Sun Spot!
Shattered
Pieces shattered on the floor,
What they were will never more,
Take the shape the used to be,
Locked inside our memory.
She moved like a cloud of despair, through the stone hallways of Hogwarts, alone in her jagged, sob wrecked thoughts. People avoided her, afraid they might break the thin piece of thread that held her sanity together. She never spoke a word in class or outside of it. The teachers had given up trying to get her to answer, instead left hr waste away in the pit of misery she had dug for herself. Sometimes her pain got too much for her friends, and they tried in vain to get her to wake up and recognize what was around her. It never worked, they never stayed long enough to really try. Her eyes held to much pain for anyone to bear for very long. Instead they preferred to clump in-groups and whisper together when they thought she was out of earshot.
"How did she survive?"
"My dad said she was blessed by a fairy."
"No, it was by You-Know-Who, it has to be black magic."
"You're mad this is the Weaslys were talking about."
"Shush she can hear you."
No one was surprised when they found her, scrunched up in a ball on her bed. The sheet splattered with blood, a knife curled in her clenched fist.
They buried her next to the others under a white marble headstone depicting her age, 14 years young.
"Huh, even the Dark Lord couldn't save her from herself."
"Lavender, the house burnt down, it had nothing to do with Him."
Fourteen years etched in marble, under the revelation of her name, Ginny.
What we will pay for memory,
And the shapes they used to be,
Clogs our soul and blocks our mind,
Leaving us with insanity.