I have been told to share my feelings, to speak of them to a friend. But no friend would understand my emotions. That is why Diary, I have chosen to write to you. In your pages I can pour out the longings and grief of my broken heart.
If tears were jewels, I should be immeasurably rich.
But they are not and so I have only sorrow.
Some say it is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all, but I cannot agree Diary, for I feel even the most intolerable loneliness would be a relief compared to what I feel in my heart.
But first Diary, I must introduce myself. My name is Ginny Weasley. I must give you a name if I am to confide in you. I have chosen Amethyst.
Everything was perfect - more than perfect. Voldemort was dead and Harry, my boyfriend, had survived. I would never have believed it possible. My wildest dreams could not have pictured a situation so ideal and filled with so much joy. As I sat in St Mungos by Harry's bed, I was thankful a thousand times that he had lived.
As i left the hospital at the end of that first watchful day, I found the streets crowded with cheering, celebrating witches and wizards. No-one cared what the Muggles thought. Such joy could not be concealed. As I stepped into the street, i was surrounded by the crowds and the cheers doubled in volume. I was a celebrity, my relationship with Harry giving me a share of his glory. It took an hour the walk the length of the street where at last I escaped the crowds by disapparating.
My joy at Voldemort's downfall could only increase when I heard that Harry was to leave St Mungos with a clean bill of health. My whole family, apart from Percy went to the hospital to meet him. Fleur, by then an accepted member of the family came too. I had never liked her before Voldemort was defeated, but her skill and courage in saving Bill's life in the final battle against the Death Eaters completely changed my attitude towards her. I saw her in a new light and felt privileged to have her as a sister. It is amazing how war and victory can change people. The whole country had changed. Three weeks on from victory and there was still partying in the streets and wide smiles on the faces of every person who had any idea just what the end of the war meant. Peace! I had heard that word countless times in those three weeks, but had never ceased to marvel at how sweet it sounded. Peace!
As we approached the hospital, we saw banners bearing Harry's name being held high above the crowd. St Mungo's officials led us along a pathway they had cleared by putting up barriers at the sides of a long carpet. Once again, I felt like a celebrity and the crowds treated me like one. They cheered as loudly as they could and as i entered the hospital, the silence which greeted me was surprising.
Every person in the hospital knew who I was and what I was there for. The whole family received congratulations and good wishes as we passed people in the hospital. Then at last, we reached Harry's room. I slowed my pace, feeling nervous. I had not seen Harry up and about since the end of the war and it was hard to belive he was now up, fit enough to leave the hospital.
My family all drew back as we got closer and my mother motioned to me to go in first, so as to see Harry alone. I didn't need to be told twice. Trying to disguise how nervous I felt, I walked forward quickly and confidently and opened the door. I went through and closed it behind me before looking up.