Taken from Ginny Wealey's Diary
Many thanks to KyahDreaming from http/ashwinder. for being my beta!
DISCLAIMER: Yada, yada, yada. I don't own any of these characters. Including Ted Grimaus, I'm too cheap to feed him.
I've missed seeing the sun! Being trapped in a boat has made my skin pale and my complexion sickly. My eyes took a while to adjust; it's been one month exactly since I last saw the sun, and my body aches under its radiant heat while my brother groans beside me. Sometimes he seems to be improving, he's learned to say my name and a couple of short phrases, though at other times he speaks gibberish. He's suffering from a mental breakdown; his mind has been in shock since he learned of the death of our parents. I walked on, supporting my brother, and trying to look valiant. It would do us no good if we walked into town looking like beggars. I don't really have a clue as to where we are. After the war, the Ministry of Magic had decided that if the wizarding community was to survive, then it would have to leave Magical England, which was no more than rubble. The once cheery and hectic Diagon Alley was reduced to debris strewn with bodies; even Hogwarts with its looming towers had been reduced to smoking foundations. The great castle had collapsed, bowing down to the power of the once powerful Dark Lord as Albus Dumbledore himself had done. They told the muggle Prime Minister to pass if off as a gas explosion; the same excuse they used when Sirius Black "assassinated" Peter Pettigrew. The Ministry of Magic never told us the exact reason why we had to move away from Magical England, though I'm quite sure that it had something to do with the muggles. After all, it is kind of hard to explain to muggles how a gas explosion could kill so many people…or maybe the muggles' Prime Minister decided to no longer allow wizards to live in England? That is, perhaps, the reason why we were forced to leave. In fact, now that I think about it, it seems likely that's the answer. If I was the Prime Minister, I would have done the same. The Dark Lord had, after all, killed so many muggles that I've lost track. I shouldn't meddle; just leave it to the adults. Curiosity Killed The Cat-- and I prefer to live. So, here I am, lugging my brother into this new world, trying, and failing, to not look pathetic.
The wind caressed my cheek, its touch gentle and welcoming. I lift my head to take a look at my surroundings. Some people bustled along while others stood and stared at us. Behind me I heard mutterings from my fellow wizards; they were hissing about the Ministry of Magic with a hint of fear in their voices. A mix of emotions overpowered me: fear, anxiety, and anger. I walked on, hoping that someone would take pity on me and my brother, yet at the same time hoping they wouldn't. This mix of emotions was killing me, second by second. Their glares on my back were burning a hole in my head; I could feel it! I walked on, chin held as high as I could manage, and pretended not to notice them.