How had it happened? How had she, the youngest person to ever become Head of a department in the Ministry of Magic, ended up here? Chained to a post in the middle of a dark room. Outside, guarding the door, were two Death Eaters. Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, the thugs who had been a year ahead of her at Hogwarts. And, skulking in the shadows, were Lucius and Draco Malfoy. She knew she was going to die. She knew that any moment, a man would come in and point his wand at her. But she didn't think about that. She only thought of how she would finally be reunited with Harry. She remembered his death as though it were yesterday.
He had kissed her gently, whispered that he loved her, and left the room. No sooner was the door shut, he was killed. His blood-curdling scream was the last sound to pass through his lips. She had run out of the room, but his murderer was gone. She knew, however, that the murderer was Lord Voldemort or a Death Eater. She had run to Harry. She had fallen to the floor next to his body, tears streaming down her face. She stared into his sightless eyes, tears falling thickly from her own. She wrapped her arms around him and sobbed into his shoulder.
"Harry," she wept, "Harry…please…don't be dead…please…I love you."
And she rested her head on his chest, crying. She didn't feel the arms pulling her off his body. Her father, pulling her close to him. She didn't realize that she cried and slept for days. She didn't realize that she sobbed into her mother's arms through his funeral. But, she remembered her vow. She vowed that she would reunite herself with Harry while doing work for the Order. Not for the Ministry; he would've hated that. But for the younger generation of the Order of the Phoenix. For the third group of its name. For the group of people working against Lord Voldemort. For the group that Harry had restarted.
And, four years later, she had not forgotten her vow. That very morning, she had set out to find and destroy the last Horcrux: Lord Voldemort himself. But she had not been careful enough. She had been caught. She had failed. And, now, she was chained to a post, waiting for death. Waiting for the man she most wanted dead to kill her.
The door was kicked open. She looked up, slowly. Lord Voldemort stood before her. His red eyes cold and hard, snake-like nostrils flared ever so slightly. He raised his wand, but still she did not cry out. She did not beg for mercy. She kept her chin up, but her eyes downcast. She could not bring herself to look into the cold, red eyes of her husband's murderer. He raised his wand.
"Avada Kedavra!"
And with a flash of green light, Ginny Weasley, the youngest member of her family, died.