Ginny Weasley rarely grew tired of her life.
Having grown up in such a large household, she was accustomed to chaos. She was infamous for her hexing ability, capable of beating any male she knew to a pulp, and could throw profanities as effortlessly as she could throw a quaffle. Ginny could definitely handle nearly anything life threw at her.
But it was the summer before her fifth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and life seemed a bit too mundane for Ginny.
While sitting at the (very crowded) dinner table one evening, the wild antics of her brothers and the general raucous of a large family at mealtime became too much to bear, and Ginny asked to be excused. Although she was not heard over the shouting voices and clinking of silverware, she left the table and exited the house.
Ginny walked along a dirt path that winded across the hills near her home. She was quite fond of the Yorkshire Dales, and hoped to live there once she established herself after graduation. Her bare feet pounded the cool ground, leaving a thin trail of dust behind her. The sun was setting in the distance, forming a perfect glowing arch behind several gently rolling hills. After a few minutes, Ginny veered off the dirt path and settled on a particularly soft patch of grass. She stared off into the distance, attempting to make some sense out of the madness of her life.
Several emotions flooded her at once: confusion, disappointment, melancholy...
But upon realizing those emotions, she also felt guilty. Many people lived more difficult lives than she, yet she was not very content with herself.
She immediately thought of Harry.
Poor Harry, she thought to herself. She was struggling for no reason! Harry, however, was facing an evil overlord, an army of his deceitful minions, vicious media, prejudiced relatives, dead parents, unfair professors, the death of his closest companion, his own future, and the weight of the wizarding world.
Damn, Ginny thought to herself. What a life.
Despite all these difficulties, Harry seemed so composed. He approached each day with a focus unparalleled by anything Ginny had ever seen. She had always noticed this glint in his emerald eyes that she believed to be his motivation. He had so much on his shoulders... She knew he could not find it in himself to let everyone down.
What a selfless person, Ginny mused. Harry very rarely thought of himself. He was also a constant worrier, and with good reason.
Ginny deeply admired Harry, although she would never admit it to her brothers. Her admiration for him went beyond her simple childhood infatuation with the idea of "The Boy Who Lived." She considered him to be one of the most strong-willed people she had ever encountered. It was a shame that he was forced to endure such tribulations at such a young age.
Ginny gazed across the beautiful terrain in front of her. At that moment, she opened herself up to the rolling hills, the setting sun, and the shadows of the evening....
She cried for Harry.
She cried for his sorrows, his struggles, his burdens... Even though the tears streamed down her freckled face at an alarming rate, Harry's troubles still outnumbered her tears.
Ginny looked up to the sky, as if expecting some sort of glorious help to fall from the sienna glory above her.
The sun finally fell behind the hills in the distance. Ginny wiped her puffy face with the hem of her skirt, tasting the salty tears on her lips.
She stood up and began the trek back to the Burrow, thankful for the crazy antics of her brothers, and the loving care of her parents, and a warm place to stay. She could hardly wait to go upstairs and crawl into her toasty, welcoming bed, and listen to the sounds of night before falling into a peaceful slumber.
Ginny walked up to the door of her home and wiped her eyes one last time...
No one could tell she was crying for Harry.