He Was My Hero
By Airealataiel
Ginny had always looked up to Ron. He was her big brother, but not so much bigger that they couldn't be friends, too. He was only a year older, and quite easy to get along with. He wasn't gone all the time, he didn't obsess over dragons, he wasn't bossy, and he wasn't always trying to pull pranks on her. He wasn't Bill or Charlie or Percy or Fred or George; he was Ron, and he was special. It's not like she didn't love her other brothers, it was simply that Ron was the easiest to talk to and the most fun to play with.
Once, when Ginny was about five years old, she broke her arm falling from a broomstick. Her brothers had convinced her to play Quidditch with them in a clearing up on the hill, and Ginny had lost her grip trying to swerve around George. Bill carried her back down the hill and the others followed, but Ron trudged alongside Bill, telling Ginny it was going to be all right and that if she were good the doctor would give her a sucker (Ginny had always been a bit scared of doctors).
When they reached the hospital, Ginny wouldn't go into the room unless they let Ron in with her. He held her hand while she got x-rays done on her arm, and he told her stories to make her laugh when they put on the cast. As Ron had promised, the doctor gave Ginny a sucker for being such a brave girl. She made him give one to Ron, too.
When Ginny was seven (Ron being eight), she got in her first real fight with her favorite brother. He was going to go play with some boys his age at the park, and Ginny wanted to tag along.
"No," Ron had said, "you're not old enough. Go play with your dolls or something." Ginny was heartbroken. Ron had never told her to go away before, besides when he was taking a bath and Ginny wanted to brush her teeth, that is.
"It's just a phase," Molly had told Ginny kindly over breakfast one morning. "He'll come out of it soon. Just you wait and see. Right now he just needs a little space."
Ginny took to reading old books and playing with her dolls, but it wasn't the same as having someone else to play with. She had to be the mommy and the daddy, she had to be the good guy and the bad guy, she had to read aloud and make all the voices instead of Ron helping her. But she would never forget the day Ron moved from the bunk bed to his own room.
"I'm growing up, Mum!" he had whined. "I need privacy."
"Next week you'll have your own room," Molly had said, "I promise." Ginny, who had been hiding around the corner, stormed up to her room, locked the door, and cried herself to sleep.
'This isn't just a phase,' she remembered thinking. 'Ron doesn't like me anymore!'
She was wrong, sort of. After a while, Ron agreed to play house with Ginny. They still played Cops and Robbers and they still took turns reading stories together, but somehow it felt different. Ron was better than her now.
"It's not fair, Momma," Ginny complained over her soup. "Ron's better than me at everything. We used to be both good at everything, but now I just can't do it anymore!"
"Don't worry," her mother consoled, "soon enough you'll be just as good as Ronald. Maybe even better at some things." Ginny doubted it.
Then Ginny turned ten. For her birthday Ron gave her a small teddy bear; it held a little red heart with the words "best sister ever" stitched onto it. The bear was not perfect, but Ron had made it himself, and Ginny thought it was the best gift she'd ever gotten.
But Ron was eleven, and very soon he would be going away to Hogwarts. Ginny savored every day that summer, treating it as their last. Ron would be gone for almost a whole year and Ginny would be stuck at home. There wouldn't be anyone but her mother to talk to, and she would be doing chores anyway, so that wouldn't be any fun. Ginny couldn't imagine being so lonely.
Finally, the day came for her brothers to go away again, this time Ron would go too. Ginny tried everything she could to make it impossible. She threw a fit when Ron came in to wake her up, she took an extra long time in the shower so that everyone else would have to wait, and made a mess of her breakfast so Molly would have to clean it up, and she hid some of Ron's books so that he would have to take the time to find them. But in the end none of it worked; they still went to the train.
At the station, a small raven-haired boy approached them. Ginny thought he was kind of funny looking; he was just a bit taller than her but he was very skinny and his clothes hung off of him like skin that was much too large for him. He looked scared, his hair was a mess, and he had small round glasses that were taped in the middle, as if they had been broken several times. But he had the most amazing emerald eyes; Ginny stared in awe.
"Now, what's the platform number?" her mother had said.
"Nine and three-quarters!" Ginny chimed. "Mom, can't I go…" she begged, taking her mother's hand and glancing at Ron hopefully.
"You're not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet," Molly had replied. Ginny fell silent and followed her family, hand in hand with her mother, as they got onto the platform. Ginny had never thought of it before, but as she saw that long scarlet train with steam billowing from the stack, she imagined that it was a very large snake, come to gobble up all of the treasured brothers and sisters of little kids. When they had all boarded the train and had leaned out the window for their last goodbyes, Ginny began to cry.
"Don't, Ginny, we'll send you loads of owls," Fred promised.
"We'll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat!" George said with a grin. Molly scolded him, but Ginny laughed. The train started moving, picking up speed, and Ginny chased it half crying and half laughing, until it was going too fast for her to keep up. She slowed down and stopped in defeat, waving half-heartedly until she could no longer see a row of flaming red hair.
That summer Ginny spent a lot of time at the library. She felt very abandoned, and she had never realized how large her house really was when no one was in it. But she couldn't get that silly looking boy out of her head. He grinned at her and his eyes twinkled in her dreams, and something seemed to be hidden just under his bangs that she couldn't quite see.
"Who was that boy, on the train?" she asked her mother one day as she dusted the fireplace.
"What boy, dear?"
"The one … you know the one with the green eyes and the black hair…"
"Honey, remember the stories we've told you, about Harry Potter, the boy who saved us from You-Know-Who?"
"Yea," Ginny said with a shudder.
"That's him."
"Oh," she had replied, but since that day she was fascinated. She had seen Harry Potter up close and personal! After that the only books she ever checked out were something that had to do with Harry Potter.
'He's a hero,' she had thought, 'and he's only eleven.'
When her brothers came home for the summer holiday, all Ginny ever talked about was Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, etc. etc. Ron, of course, became very annoyed and didn't like to spend much time with Ginny.
The years had come and gone, and Ginny had long since graduated from Hogwarts. She had been an outstanding student and was accepted as an Auror after only two years of training. But even after all that time, she never forgot her older brother.
On March 1st Ginny went home after work at seven pm, the same as every day. She walked down the same sidewalks and used the same alleys for shortcuts and she came home to the same dark apartment. She flipped on the light in the entryway and took a five-minute shower, then changed into her pajamas and slunk to the kitchen. Taking out a package of Raman noodles, she got out a bowl and some water and put it in the microwave.
"He would have been 22 today," she said sadly as the microwave beeped. She took the pasta to the table and sat down, staring at the chair across the table.
'He should be there right now,' she thought bitterly. 'He should be there, turning 22, enjoying his birthday. We should have all been here, and there should have been a cake and ice cream and a movie and a lot of friends.'
Ginny could remember the very day it had happened. The war had been escalating and was at its highest peak when Harry decided enough was enough; he was going to end it. Ron and Hermione had insisted on going with him. "We've been with you from the very beginning," they argued, and so he agreed. There were others, too, that wouldn't let him go alone. Ginny, Luna, Fred, George, Bill, Charlie, Dean, Seamus, Neville. There was a whole army of good marching out to meet the evil.
"Leave Voldemort to me," Harry had said, and all of them promised they would. Harry was meant to fight that battle, and everyone knew it.
Death surrounded them as they came to the moment of truth, and even though each of them had their own battle going on, everyone stopped when Harry came face to face with Lord Voldemort. The Dark Lord played with Harry at first, but when he started shooting off Unforgivables it got serious. Hermione shouted to Harry to remember their love for each other; that love was his power.
Ginny sat at her kitchen table, watching it all in slow motion. She saw as the Dark Lord fired the killing curse, and how Ron had jumped in front of Harry. He was dead before he hit the ground. She believed that shock was what made them all stand so still. Harry collapsed next to Ron and stroked his face, whispering things to him that no one would ever know. When he stood up again the Dark Lord was laughing as tears streamed down Harry's face. It only took one Avada Kedavra to defeat Voldemort. Harry had loved Ron like the family he had never had.
Harry was written about in the papers for days, weeks, months, even years to come. He had saved them all from Voldemort, this time for good. He was the hero of the wizarding world.
Hermione and Harry later got married and named their first son after Ron, and that day had been very joyous for the parents and the Weasleys alike. But naming a child after Ron wouldn't make him come back, and Ginny knew that the part of her heart that was missing could never be replaced. She spent a lot of time with Harry and Hermione's son nonetheless and loved him dearly, and thus was named as his Godmother. When Ron was five, Ginny started telling her godson the story of the boy he was named after.
"He was a brave man," Ginny would say. "He was strong and loyal and smart, and most of all, he was very nice." She would continue with tears in her eyes to the very end. "He was my brother, and he was my hero."