Harry's Game
Imtheochaidh soir is siar
A dtainig ariamh
An ghealach is an ghrian
Fol lol the doh fol the day
Fol the day fol the day
Imtheochaidh an ghealach's an ghrian
An Daoine og is a chail 'na dhiadh
Fol lol the doh fol the day
Fol the day fol the day
Fol lol the doh fol the day
Fol the day fol the day
Imtheochaidh a dtainig ariamh
an duine og is a chail ne dhiadh
Fol lol the doh fol the day
Fol the day fol the day
Mine, Harry
I have finally decided to lay down the idea that you will one day return to us and instead, I have decided that I shall try to make my way to you. There is no excuse for my clumsy attitude towards you and perhaps it would have been wiser for me to listen to your words before our parting.
Oh, Harry. Many hours have I spent imagining your presence with me. My vivid imagination tares me away from the cruel reality; that you are no longer with us. I can still feel you and as I put my hand in front of my face, I can almost touch your skin.
Why? Why does my heart toy with me? We always knew it was to be, that there was never any chance that I would see you again after that day. There was never any chance that you would see any of us again.
I pace along my room as I write this, for I have a jumbled mixture of words in my head and they all screech at me—begging for their freedom. They want to live. They want to form a life on paper but why should I give them what was so wrongly taken from you? It's unjust.
I hope death is being kind to you, Harry. I owe you so much, yet I can no longer help you. If only I knew where you were. I've searched for you—honest I have. My dreams appeared to be a good start but whenever I get close enough to touch, you always vanish.
Luna, my dearest friend—she did try so hard to comfort me. If it hadn't been for her, I would never have left that field. I'd have stayed there until I rotted into the ground. Beside you. She suggested I tried to talk to you through the veil but when I got there—it was gone. They had destroyed it through sheer arrogance.
She'll understand why I am doing this—of all the people to understand, yourself and Luna will. We've all loved and lost people who will never be returned to us.
Have you seen Hermione, by any chance? I don't know where people go in the afterlife but I just hate thinking that you may have been on your own all this time. I try to reassure myself by thinking that you and she were together but I always seem to manage to find a reason for this not to be true.
I've missed you far too much and my soul feels as though it is being pulled apart. The want to be with you and the want to live just balance, in tune. One fights for my heart and the other for my brain, yet neither seems to succeed.
The whole wizarding world adores you, Harry but what is the point of being adored if you can no longer hear the praise? I'd have thought Ron would have enjoyed the sheer delight of being known but he doesn't, he just thinks of you and Hermione.
She didn't have to die either. She got in the way, like the others. It was just an added bonus in Voldemort's eyes that she was muggleborn. She could have done great things for us all, yet she was stolen too. Like the others. Why did they kill so many innocent lives? Lives that were lost for the good of our children.
We could have been happy for eternity, Harry. He stole our happiness. What was he thinking, to take that away from us? I always loved you and nobody can take that away, not even if they tried.
Why did you have to die? It wasn't necessary—you could have lived. Ron agrees. Don't think that. I know what you are thinking. Ron was your best friend, he should never have been brought into the fight but neither should have I. Nor Hermione, Neville and Luna.
I know that you are probably happier now. You're with the people that you loved most—your Mum and Dad, Sirius, Remus Lupin, Hermione and Dumbledore—but you are still missing one. Me.
Why don't you come to me when I call? Do you not love me? Do you scorn my very existence—why do you do this to me, why? I can't change the past; our past and I can't bring us a future. I feel useless, Harry. Useless.
I can't help but let my tears stain this parchment. Have you ever wondered why we cry? I try to come up with a logical explanation but all I ever do is end up thinking of you. I feel cold and alone. It doesn't matter how many people are around me. I'm still alone.
My tears have been harvested and your name has been worn out. Luna and Ron are both calling up the stairs for me but their words are just fading into the air around me. Perhaps they don't understand? I see them get on with their lives—broken lives. Luna tries to comfort me with thoughts of returning to Hogwarts. I won't be returning with her.
I need to find you, Harry. I need to see your face again, even if it is only for one last time. It will be enough; I just need to smile again, just one more time. I'd have followed you to the end of the universe—why wouldn't you let me? I'd have gone east to west with you; I never wanted to leave your side.
Can't you give me a clue, mine? Just a starting direction? I don't know whether to head for the sea or for the stars. I see your face wherever I look. In the clouds, in the water and on the air.
Couldn't you have lived for love? Just tried for me? You will never be forgotten, Harry but I shall, my name won't go down in the history books. It may get a little slot on the back page of the Quibbler. The page people are to scared to read.
I need to rid myself of the heartache. I need to find you, even if that does mean exploring death. As Dumbledore often said, it is the next great adventure. Are you having fun? Is it really that great?
They're still calling but I have secured my room firmly. By the time they manage to break through—it will be to late. Harry, you will find me when I arrive, won't you? I don't want to be alone in a strange place. A place without you.
Perhaps it is not that I can't find you, perhaps it is that you cannot find me? You would come to me if you could; I know you would. So there must be something stopping you getting out but there is nothing stopping me get in.
Harry. Stop playing games with me; your reputation is really something you want to keep. Do you want me to come or not? Answer me! This is my final offer, Harry. Or I will forget you, I promise I will. I just need a sign. Whisper my name …
Oh, that's just as good. I can feel your fingers running through my hair. I can feel your breath down the back of my collar—warm and inviting.
I love you, Harry. Your Ginny will always love you.
I will go east and go west
To the places from whence came
The moon and the sun
The moon and the sun will go
And the young man
With his reputation behind him
I will go wherever he came from -
The young man with his reputation behind him