Disclaimer: Um...if I were Jo, I wouldn't be doing this. I'd be on a cruise. In like...the Bahamas...

Thanks to all those who reviewed! Thanks especially to Jean Marc, for sticking with me despite my constant self doubt and lack of confidence. JM, KEEP YOUR GRADES UP! YOU HAVE TO COME TO DC THIS SUMMER! Ok. Back to the story.

I know how I said this would only be six chapters...I lied. Sorry! Turns out this is going to be a little longer.

The next morning Ginny awoke with newfound sense of determination. She threw on the pair of jeans at the foot of the bed, grabbed a sweatshirt, and pulled her robes over head. After a quick glance in the mirror, she leapt down the stairs leading towards the common room, taking nearly three steps at a time. She was intent upon finding Neville Longbottom.

She gave the common room a once over, and coming to the conclusion that he was not there, she burst out of the portrait hole and briskly headed towards the great hall.

"In a hurry to get something to eat, are we?" asked sneering voice from behind her. Ginny froze.

"You know who I want to hurt?" Ginny asked Hermione, as she lay in her childhood bed at the Burrow, staring up at the ceiling. It was nearly two o'clock in the morning.

"Besides Cho Chang?" Hermione replied with a snicker.

"Oh, very funny. One word—Lavender." Ginny heard the loud 'humph!' of annoyance, and grinned.

"No, but, really. I want to hurt Draco Malfoy."

After this pronouncement there was a silence that stretched on so long that Ginny wondered if Hermione had fallen asleep. Eventually, however, Hermione responded.

"I think that Dumbledore would want us to forgive him, Ginny," She said softly.

"Forgive him! After what he did! Hermione, Malfoy is the cause of Dumbledore's death! If it weren't for him, he would still be alive, Katie would have never been hurt, Ron would have never been poisoned, there would be no doubt as to whether Hogwarts is reopening or not and…and you three wouldn't be leaving this year…it's all Malfoy's fault!"

"No it's not. It's Voldemort's fault, Ginny, it all traces back to Voldemort."

"So even though Bellatrix uttered the actual spell that killed Sirius, we should blame You-Know-Who, and You-Know-Who only! People have free will; they can choose whether or not they follow him."

"That's a different situation. Bellatrix wasn't ordered to kill Sirius. She wasn't forced into being a Death Eater, either. She chose to do all of that on her own, so by all means, hate her." She paused a moment, as if to let that sink in, then continued, "Malfoy was forced. He was threatened with his life, with his family, with everything that is important to him. He had absolutely no choice but to fulfill Voldemort's every last whim, and I highly doubt that he ever truly hated Dum—the Headmaster enough to actually want to kill him."

"He's still a Death Eater. You can't ask me to love a Death Eater."

"I'm not asking you to love him. I'm asking you to pity him."

Ginny slowly turned around. It wasn't Draco Malfoy, of course, nobody had heard from him since the disastrous night last June. Everyone assumed he was dead, but they had yet to discover his body. Ginny didn't know why his death bothered her, but she assumed it was because she had known him her whole life. She remembered seeing him when he was just twelve years old. He was just a little boy, a pain in the ass, perhaps, but a child nonetheless. And now he was dead. She wondered vaguely how many classmates this war was going to cost.

"So, Weasley, I noticed Potty isn't here anymore. Suppose he decided to run off with that bushy haired mudblood, eh?"

She remembered Blaise Zambini from the Slug-Club last year. She hated the fact that Slughorn admired him merely because of his gorgeous mother, she hated how snobby he was and how he treated her family, and most of all, she hated him because in all likelihood, his parents were Death Eaters.

"Oh, I think my brother has Hermione covered. But what about you, Zambini? Missing your Death Eater lover? I'm pretty sure he's dead; you might want to stop pining…"

"So I wonder how many of your family will kick it now that the Dark Lord is gaining so much power…oh, that's right, your brother got ripped up by that werewolf, wasn't he? Phil, or something? It's a shame it wasn't a full moon…but at least we can look forward to the death of your beloved. We all know Potty won't last the war. Hopefully Weasel and that mudblood will go down with him." His handsome face was contorted with the usual Slytherin sneer, and his dark eyes were flashing.

Ginny could feel her composure slipping away. Here was a man who had looked forward to the death of the greatest wizard who ever lived, and who on the night of said murder was most likely cowering in the corner of his common room, terrified for his own life. He spoke as if Fenrir Greyback was a friend, an acquaintance with whom he was on good terms, and was never intimidated by; not as a vicious werewolf who would just as easily attack Zambini as he did her brother. Ginny suddenly found herself fighting the overwhelming urge to fly at Zambini, to destroy that arrogant and beautiful face, to rip him down and watch as he cried, and begged her to stop…he deserved it…

"I'm not asking you to love him. I'm asking you to pity him."

God, what was this war doing to her? What was it doing to the good in this world? Here she was, a sixteen year old girl, who loved life, had a wonderful family who cared about her, who had been raised to know right and wrong…and here she wanted to kill someone, to actually take someone's life! What kind of situation was it when even the most innocent were guilty?

"It's Voldemort's fault; it all traces back to Voldemort."

Then she remembered, the DA, Neville, McGonagall…her chance to fight back…

"I don't have time for you." She snapped, turning briskly away from him and continuing her path down the corridor. He yelled some insult at her retreating back, some meaningless retort that Ginny didn't even hear. She felt good knowing that, finally, a Weasley had simply walked away.

When she entered the Great Hall, she spotted Neville immediately, and made a beeline for him.

"Neville!" She yelled, ignoring the strange looks she was earning from the Hufflepuff table, "Neville, I have to talk to you!"

It never ceased to amaze her how people changed over the years; how children grew into adults; boys into men. Neville was a perfect example. She remembered his round, anxious face when he was merely eleven, and his high-pitched, worried voice. Now he had grown to be taller than Harry, although no where near Ron, of course. His face, although still circular, was older, and he certainly had lost the look of someone of was always afraid. He had fought the Death Eaters twice, and he would do it again. Like so many of her friends, he had been forced to grow up too fast, and now Neville Longbottom was an adult willing to do anything to fight against the monster who had destroyed his family and so many others.

"What's going on?" He asked, sliding around on his seat to look at her.

"Can we go somewhere else to talk?" He gave her a strange look, but nodded and grabbed a piece of half eaten toast before rising and following her.

When they exited the front doors she led him towards the beech tree next to the lake. A slight breeze was whispering through the grass, creating ripples upon the dark water. She sat down beneath the branches, and patted the ground next to her; inviting him to join her.

"So what's this all about?" He asked, as he obliged her silent request.

"We're restarting the DA." She stated; she had never been one to beat around the bush.

"What!"

"Yes. I've been asked to be in charge, but I need your help. You've got to help me structure the meetings, recruit members, and just in the overall teaching. This is very important, Neville, we need to prepare people for what's going on…out there."

"Well, that sounds fine, I suppose, but honestly, what help am I going to be?"

"Oh, don't be ridiculous! You know as well as I that you are very good at defense. You've fought his supporters twice! I'm going to need assistance when leading such a large class, and I'm asking you to be a sort of…Co-Instructor."

"I'm more than willing." He said firmly, looking her straight in the eye.

"Good! But remember, this isn't some protest against Umbridge. This isn't really a game anymore. We're going to be teaching people how to deal with the enemy…and we'll be looking for people to join…erm…the society that is in charge of fighting You-Know-Who."

"The Order?" Ginny looked up, startled, but then, last year it had been mentioned publicly multiple times, especially towards the end of the year.

"Well…yes. The Order."

"I want to join. The minute I graduate, I'm going straight to McGonagall, and I'm going to become a member." He had rarely sounded so determined.

"I know you are. That's another reason why I'm counting on you to help me with this."

"We probably ought to hold a sort of informational meeting soon. Just to give people an idea of what it's about."

"How about tonight?"

"You think we can find people that quickly?"

"Why not?" He paused for a moment, looking thoughtful.

"Alright," he said finally, obviously coming to a decision, "We'll have them meet at the Room of Requirement at say…eight o'clock tonight?"

"Sounds perfect. Oh, and Neville…try and keep this as quiet as possible, alright."

"That's what makes it so fun, Gin."

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