Harry Potter is Dead
Chapter 16 | The Broken Girl
Ginny Weasley's mind had fractured.
At least, that's what they kept telling her.
She heard them talking at night, while they thought she was sleeping. The words changed from night to night, but to her it was always the same. She remembered when their laughter used to ring in the night; but not any more. That was ages ago, a time passed long before she stopped joining them in the evenings. Hard times had brought a chill silence that blanketed their home like heavy snow. No one laughed anymore. Just talk of battle and of death and of sadness. She wept to hear their voices so weary.
The first few weeks after Harry's death were confusing, blurry. She did not understand most of what was happening. Things that she had taken for granted every day were now whirring and complex and unexplainable. Her world was changing around her, and she could do nothing but sit and watch and try to comprehend. There was so little she understood anymore.
It was during these sleepless nights that she took to sitting at the bottom of the staircase hand listening to her family talk. She didn't like the eavesdropping, but it had become her only option. She wanted to know what was going on, and had tired of asking them. Each time she had attempted to speak with them she had been greeted with a halfhearted smile and a "Don't you worry yourself." or a "Why don't you go back to your room, love." They were behaving like strangers. She didn't understand. It made her angry. There are holes in her memory, edged with rage and fire, during which she threw fits and couldn't remember them later. All she knew was that after each gap her family drifted further away from her.
So she eavesdropped, and that's when she heard it. That word. Sick. They threw it around at first, worried, not daring to use stronger terms during the first few weeks. But as time passed they grew more comfortable with them. Mad. Insane. Disturbed. She heard everyone, her parents and her brothers, use them all. They cut into her like a knife. They were lying, She was fine.
They thought that she stayed in her bedroom for days at a time, too afraid to leave, like some princess locked away in her tower. This was not true. She did not remain because she was afraid of leaving. She was afraid of them. Their stares, their glassy smiles, their comforting lies. She still loved them, but she also feared them at the same time. So she would stay safe in her room while they were awake. But at night, when they were wrapped up in their dreams and could not harm her, she left.
With the Resurrection Stone curled in her palm, she and Harry spent the nights together. They walked, mostly, travelling for miles in any direction they pleased. There was no one to tell them to turn back, be quiet, stay still. It was just her and Harry and the watery sun rising in the east.
She waited endlessly for these chances to speak to him. Harry always knew just what to say; he could calm her on one of her bad days, quiet her during a fit, make her smile when she was lonely. Having Harry there made the pain dull, the world clearer than it had been in a long while. Slowly, she stopped throwing tantrums and started leaving her room. He encouraged her to speak with her family once more as if everything were all right, and as time went on they began to return the favor. It was as close to normalcy as she could possibly get.
Harry's presence filled her with a warm hum, which cast out the confusion and left her fresh and new. But hers was a heavy sort of happiness. The weight of it could pull her down, down through the dirt and the grass, and she would be swallowed up by darkness. When he walked alongside her, she believed that he was alive and herself was healed; she thought more clearly, the world made more sense. But she knew deep down that Harry was truly dead. And it was that burden which weighed apon her chest, pressing her into the earth.
She could not make sense of this. Her heart told her one thing, and her mind another. Was Harry dead or alive? Was he here with her or gone forever? There were times when she could not tell. And she was lost in the nightmare of her own creation.
This is what drove Ginny Weasley insane.
The beasts were made of fire, and the fire was in her, replacing all blood, bone, and brain until she was no better than them, nothing but a monster - and then Ginny screamed, to shake herself, and her mind cleared somewhat. The fire was not within her, not yet, but it would be if she did not move faster. The flames licked her heels as she ran. The world was an inferno, and she was deep within its heart.
Then there was a shout, a voice Ginny recognized - a figure was visible through the smoke for a split second - and she changed direction, skidding on the flagstones, racing towards Hermione as the girl raised a shaking hand -
Ginny dove and the Shield Charm closed just behind her, sealing her, Ron, and Hermione in a circle of relative protection. She ran to join the other two in the center, but the smoke clouded her head and slowed her body; Ginny moved as if weights were shackled to her limbs. She wrapped her tired arms around Ron and Hermione, ready to collapse, they accepted her without hesitation. She took this to be a sign of forgiveness. Ron and Hermione love me. Ginny thought. I had to do it. They understand.
Ginny felt Hermione slipping in her grasp, slouching to the ground with her eyes half-closed. Ron was shouting at her, his face stained with soot. Tear tracks wove lines of pearls into the black. The shield charms were breaking, and the flames were getting closer, and they were so desperate. They were trapped animals, scared and alone.
Ginny watched them, thinking that it made perfect sense to be sad or afraid or angry . . . and yet she felt nothing, nothing at all. Her survival instincts were thundering at full force, adrenaline pumping through her veins, eyes searching for a way out of the blaze, and yet her mind was clear and empty of all emotion. She did not regret her decision. She was willing to die and drag Voldemort down with her. She didn't wish for anyone else to die, and yet she understood that it was necessary. But why was she so ready to accept oblivion as it drew nearer? Why was she so cold, when flames surrounded her?
The answer came to Ginny's lips as readily as if she had known it all along.
"It's because you're already dead."
"ENOUGH!"
A second voice screamed, one that was high, cold, and clear; and there was a noise like a cannon blast that knocked the wind from Ginny's lungs - and it did not return. She dropped to her knees, gasping for breath, but there seemed to be no air left to inhale. All around her the fiery beasts were flickering and dying as quickly as they had sprung into being, and Ginny was falling though space, stars dancing before her eyes -
There was another bang even louder than the first, and Ginny drew a desperate, gasping breath, falling to her hands and knees. For a moment there was nothing but the in, the out, the steady gift of breathing. Then she raised her head, ever so slowly. She opened her wide eyes only to see no change; everything was black. For one moment Ginny was sure she was surrounded by darkness, within the belly of the beast, and she cried out - but a closer look revealed that the darkness had form and texture. The stone walls had been burnt dark as night, and ash covered the floor like a midnight sea. The moonlight filtering through the smoky air seemed shine red and unhealthy.
Voldemort was screaming furiously, but the words were all the same, not directed at her specifically. Ron was shouting her name; perhaps they believed her to be dead. Ginny could have stood taller, announced her presence and faced Voldemort once more, but someone other than Ron was calling her . . . he could wait, she thought; and she turned to answer, but no living person stood behind her. There was only another ashy mound, somehow different from the rest. It took Ginny a moment to pick out the shapes amidst the black dust, and when she did, she could not tear her eyes away.
The charred remains of dozens of students were arranged in a line, as they had died where they stood; powerless and unaware. They had been the unlucky ones, at the back of the line; Voldemort's Shield Charm had not reached them in time. Ginny approached them, passing their misty-eyed comrades, who though still standing seemed as lifeless to her as the bodies on the ground. Her sense of urgency was all but forgotten; curiosity had wiped her mind clean of worry. Ginny stooped to examine the corpse of a small girl. Her burned and bloody face gazed unblinkingly up at her, and Ginny felt compelled to stare back. She had played this game before with her brothers . . . if she blinked then she would lose . . .
Unconsciously Ginny's hand reached out to grasp the girl's, stiff at her sides, her fingers brittle and rigid. No thrill of horror accompanied the touch. She wondered blankly if this was the girl who had spoken her name.
"Why didn't you save yourself?" She asked the girl.
Ginny was not sure if she had expected the girl to answer, the burned face move and the stiff fingers grip her own at the sound of a human voice. If her response would have stirred some iota of feeling within herself, Ginny did not know. But still there was nothing behind those eyes; and Ginny spoke flatly, without the slightest trace of emotion in her tone.
"I don't think you understood. You didn't have to die. Only him. He needed you, so he could do bad things to you, but if he was dead then he wouldn't want you any more. And then you needn't have died. But he's still . . . " The words stuck in her throat.
Ginny looked up at the man she had failed to kill. Now he was torturing Hermione, by the sound of her screams, and Ron was struggling against invisible bonds to reach her. Their words seemed to echo in her head; all meaning lost. Ginny did not mind. She wanted to stay with her new friend, who was quieter than Hermione, more still than Ron. She looked down at the girl again.
"I killed you, didn't I?" Ginny whispered. The words tumbled from her mouth without warning. A crease appeared between her brows. "Didn't I?"
Funny. Ginny didn't remember doing it. She didn't remember pointing her wand at this girl, aiming slowly and deliberately, ignoring her pleas for mercy. She didn't remember saying the curse, watching the face go slack and the body fall to the ground, laughing feverishly as she saw the light leave those fearful wide eyes -
Ginny screamed, Voldemort's head whipped around, and the spell hit her so quickly and with such force that for several moments all she saw was red. He was speaking again, and this time she had no choice but to listen; to allow each and every syllable to reverberate in her skull with agonizing force. The words had no meaning other than pain.
Then he raised his wand, the gleam in his eyes like silver daggers. Ginny saw the mouth move and she closed her eyes from the pain of the noise, but death did not come as she expected it. Instead a brilliant light shone from an unknown source, glowing red through her eyelids, and a noise like a train wreck echoed through the hall. When she dared open her eyes, a scene of utter chaos lay before them. Part of the wall had been blasted away, and there amidst the rubble was Ginny's mother, father, brothers, and countless more. They stormed the hall, yelling, and met the Death Eaters that remained within like a wall of force. More and more fighters were filling the charred hall, friends and enemies alike, and the great room was alight with spells and shouts.
Voldemort could not focus on her, Ron, or Hermione; he was torn between them and his students, whom he was forced to protect from the barrage of spells that were flying everywhere. His eyes were also on the potion, which stood simmering and vulnerable at the front of the room. Voldemort drew back.
"No! I will not kill you now. You do not deserve that mercy." He said to them. "I will devise something much more . . . displeasurable for you." The ice in his tone made Ginny's skin crawl.
A burst of fire shot from the tip of his wand, which struck the charred ground and moved weirdly, as if it had a mind of its own. Ginny shrieked, seeing for a moment beasts emerging from the blaze, but the flames did not move towards her; rather, around her, Ron, and Hermione in a perfect circle. They were nothing more than a barrier, which separated her from her screaming mother and father, whose efforts to break though had little effect.
Ginny turned towards Voldemort and ran at him, eager to fight, to kill - but as she moved several things happened at once. Voldemort turned on the spot and vanished, moving his wand as he did; and three figures appeared in his place, silhouetted black against the flames. Ginny skidded to a halt. She watched them cautiously, aware that Ron and Hermione were moving closer to her. The three newcomers turned where they stood, alarmed; Ginny thought she recognized their shouts from somewhere - but then Voldemort's voice sounded, unnaturally loud, drowning them out.
"Imperio."
The figures ceased shouting immediately, unnaturally. There was something off in the way they moved, still and calm, and in the way the fire glinted in their empty eyes. Ginny could feel it; they weren't right, they were broken, they were suffocating her with hands of steel -
The silhouettes stepped towards Ron, Hermione, and Ginny in an identical movement, and their faces were thrown into relief in the harsh light of the flames.
"NO!" Ron shouted. "STOP!"
But Neville, Dean, and Luna did not stop. They continued their slow approach, limbs moving mechanically, glassy eyes staring. Hermione was crying, calling their names; but Ginny knew it would never succeed. Simultaneously, the three raised their wands, and Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had no choice but to mirror their movements.
Luna's spell shot at Ginny, and she ducked beneath it without even thinking. Vaguely she was aware that Dean had targeted Hermione, and Neville attacked Ron, but she could not pay them much attention. Luna was pushing her up against the flames under a barrage of spells and curses. All the while her face remained slack, dead, emotionless.
Like Ginny.
She tried not to think about that.
On the edges of her vision Ginny saw Ron and Hermione, dueling defensively, shouting at the friends who could not hear them. They struggled to stun while their opponents aimed to kill. Ginny did not understand why they did so. Couldn't Ron and Hermione see? A curse whizzed past Ginny's ear, and she returned it without hesitation. These were not their friends. They were bodies, nothing more.
Ginny looked into the face that had once been Luna's, illuminated with the lights of battle, and found her mind drifting away from the Great Hall. While her body battled on as if in a trance, Ginny floated closer and closer towards those dull, reflective eyes, until they had swallowed her whole.
Ginny was not altogether conscious of it happening. She had transitioned smoothly away from the battlefield, the shouts and the bangs dull in her ears, until she had faded imperceptibly to dust. She was lost in a memory; a dream of that day when Luna, the real Luna, had come up to her room and told her she was brave. Then the recollection went hazy . . . she knew she was angry about something . . . and then quite suddenly she was sitting in the middle of the room, surrounded by utter destruction. She was ready to forget, as she always had; but something was different that day. When she looked into Luna's eyes, Ginny had known somehow that the damage was her own doing. And that truth scared her more than anything.
"AVADA KEDAVRA!" Ginny screamed, without warning. The spell shot past its target, who dodged it easily. Those eyes stared back at her with none of the warmth and kindness that Luna's had . . . she wanted to look away, but they drew her up like a dangerous current. Ginny could not resist . . . she was being pulled closer and closer . . . she had no choice but to give in . . .
"GINNY! STOP! GODDAMN IT, GINNY!"
Rough hands pulled her from her knees, and she was fighting against them without really understanding why. Ginny cried out in confusion; she did not know where she was, what she was doing - her wide eyes darted about, trying to make sense of what was happening to her, but the colors were too bright, the sounds too loud, and she could make sense of nothing.
"Luna, Luna, please wake up! Please be all right. Luna . . . !" A voice sobbed, somewhere nearby.
Ginny forced her eyes to open, and information inundated her all at once. It was Ron's arms that restrained her, Hermione's voice that was crying. Luna lay at their feet, motionless in a pool of blood. Her face had been clawed, bitten, and bruised to the point that she was scarcely recognizable.
"Please, Luna . . . please!" Hermione sounded near hysterics.
Ginny blinked sluggishly. Then, ever so slowly, she willed her eyes to move downwards, to focus, to accept whatever they saw as whole and real. Two hands were raised in front of her; Ginny's own, stained and dripping. A metallic taste flooded her mouth, and when she spat, it was red.
"What have you done?" Ron murmured, more to himself than to her. "What have you done?"
Ginny tried to scream, but no sound could be forced from her lips, trembling and slick with blood. She wanted to run, to sink beneath her delusions as she always did, to succumb to her insanity when the real world became a nightmare. It was so much easier. Ginny shut her eyes tightly, waiting desperately for reality to fade away like a song on the wind . . . but the shouts of battle did not dull in her ears. Hermione's crying reached a hysterical pitch, and Ron's arms pressed more tightly around her. Ginny let loose a whimper. She did not want to stay here, she did not want to live with what she had done to Luna - Luna, her friend, who had told her she was brave -
"NO!"
Ginny's anguished wail finally tore from her lips. In one swift moment she had freed herself from Ron's grasp and thrown herself to the floor at Luna's side. Ron and Hermione both leapt forward to pull Ginny away, convinced she was about to do more damage, but other than to fight against them she paid them no attention. Ginny's eyes were locked on Luna.
"Luna - let me go - please! I'm sorry, Luna - stop it - Luna, no, please - I'm sorry!" Tears were pouring from Ginny's eyes; her words came out as racking sobs. She felt the hands on her wrists slacken. "Please, Luna - don't - don't go, Luna, you can't! I need you - Luna, I'm sorry - I didn't mean it - let go!"
Ron and Hermione made no effort to recapture Ginny as she tore herself from their grasp and collapsed at Luna's head. Anger. Sadness. Guilt. Feeling, hot and raw, coursed through her veins, and now that it had returned she wished it would go. She wished to be steel, fire, ice. Anything but human. Anything.
It was a long time before Ginny realized that she was speaking. She knew on some fundamental level that it was in fact words and sentences that were pouring from her mouth, but to her ears they were nothing but a tangle of letters. They formed nothing coherent, nothing profound. Complex and confusing, they blurred and ran together into a spiky mass. They cut and burned as they left her mouth, ripping her throat raw and bloody. Ginny's own words had no meaning even to the girl herself, nothing did anymore; her world had shattered, and everything was crumbling around her. All she knew was the pain and the sadness, the terrible sadness, the guilt; the feelings, all rushing back to her with the force of a speeding train. She wished it would end. All of it. Now -
Luna's chest expanded suddenly; she groaned and stirred feebly, her eyes closed but life definitely, inexplicably within her.
It was as if Luna's breath had blown air into Ginny's lungs as well.
"She's - you're alive, I didn't - I haven't - Luna - !"
But words failed Ginny once more; and this time it was her happiness that was to great to be expressed. Ron and Hermione were there beside her, holding Luna's hands, healing her wounds with their wands. All of them were laughing and crying and lost in their happiness. Nothing could touch them then. For one glorious, shining moment, Ginny felt them all being lifted above the battle, the death and destruction; up though the blackened ceiling of the Great Hall; up higher than the tallest tower; and higher stull until they burst through the clouds, where warm sunlight poured on their faces, and the horrors of the world they had left behind were all but forgotten.
Slowly, gingerly, they pulled Luna into a sitting position. Her unconsciousness seemed to have released her from Voldemort's power; however, the curse's effects still seemed to linger a little in the way she clutched herself, eyeing them all as if they were about to attack. But their glowing, tear-stained faces beaming down at her helped to jog her memory. In a moment she was laughing with them.
There was something undeniably different in the air, something that had not been there a moment ago. Now that Luna was well something had changed. Ginny wondered what, vaguely, between smiles; and then she realized, plainly, simply. It was hope. For the first time since Harry died, they had hope.
Their golden bubble lasted only a minute. The battle still raged on all sides, and the flames still stood tall, a terrible barrier which separated them from war. They could not ignore it forever.
"C-come on." Hermione said, wiping her eyes. "We've got to go. We've got to stop him."
"Can you get us out of here?" said Luna, who looked slightly confused as she stared around. "How did we - "
"We'll explain later, Luna. Right now, let's just focus on leaving." Ron said comfortingly.
Hermione had both of her arms raised towards the flames, muttering to herself with a look of almost pained concentration on her face.
Ginny tilted her head. "You look like Percy when he's studying." She said placidly.
Hermione looked worriedly at her for a split second, then returned her gaze to the fire and spoke a bit louder. Ginny shrank back. She could tell what Hermione was thinking. Luna may be all right, but that didn't change the fact that Ginny had attacked her.
A gap suddenly opened in the flames, like the jaws of a beast. Images flashed through Ginny's mind, of fiery monsters and screaming and death. When Hermione yelled for then to pass through, she hesitated. But then Ron's hands were at her shoulders, and without warning he hurried her, screaming, through the gap. For a moment the world spun in flames, and vaguely Ginny was aware of Ron, shaking her, yelling words that did not make sense. Slowly, the earth slowed to a grinding halt. She pushed Ron away and drew into herself. The flames had marked the gates to hell, a haze of war and smoke and fear.
Fighters clashed all around them, filling the hall, spells illuminating their brutal faces like savage masks. George circled Goyle, firing hexes with his teeth bared; Andromeda was dueling Macnair, who shot Killing Curse after Killing Curse jetting past her head; Mr. and Mrs. Weasley stood back to back with their hands intertwined, entirely surrounded by Death Eaters. Minerva McGonagall stood beneath the shattered window at the head of the hall, fighting Travers, Macnair, and Dolohov all at once, with ferocity unlike anything Ginny had ever seen. Her bun had come undone and her teeth were bared in a vicious snarl; the force of her spells were cracking the ashen stone at their feet. But - the cauldron - it had been there before, right where McGonagall now stood -
Ginny cried out in alarm, turning to the others, but they seemed to have arrived at the same conclusion she had. They turned on the spot, scanning the churning hall, but Voldemort, the cauldron, and the Imperiused students were nowhere among the churning sea of soldiers.
"Where did they - " Ron began, Luna forced him suddenly to the side; a spell whizzed past him, missing his shoulder by inches. The four of them drew close to one another, wands raised in defense.
"They aren't here! They've gone!" Hermione cried over the chaos, stopping the Killing Curse of a masked Death Eater, "We've - got - to - get - out - of - here!" She punctuated each word with a Stunning Spell; the man collapsed under their combined force.
There was no time to hesitate, to deny the inevitable truth; Voldemort had disappeared. And so they ran, doubled over, towards the hole that had been blasted in the side of the hall. Curses flew past them from every direction, and they sent back their own into the darkness, but they fought blindly, unable to afford hesitation. What precious little time remained was slipping slowly away.
A rush of cool night air greeted them as they dashed through the jagged gap in the wall. Ginny sighed; the wind and openness was a welcome change from the crowded, smoke-filled castle. Though fighters were still scattered about the lawn, most had moved inside already, and none were near enough to notice the four as they huddled close to one another, hidden amongst rubble and shadow.
But it was only three of them who were truly listening. While Ron, Hermione, and Luna spoke in low, urgent tones, Ginny had taken a step back without them realizing.
"He's got to be somewhere on the grounds, he can'tve gone far - " Hermione began.
"There are people fighting everywhere, though, he has to be someplace hidden - " said Luna.
"The Forbidden Forest?" Ron suggested.
"It'd take ages to search the whole thing, though, how could we possibly . . . "
Ginny leaned against the cold stones of the castle wall, which soothed the many burns on her back. She closed her eyes, allowing the words to float over her like honey, senseless as they always were when she did not want to listen, as it was so easy to make them. Somehow she knew that this wasn't going to get them anywhere. Voldemort was gone, the potion was nearly ready, and the souls of one thousand living and one thousand dead would be gone in an hour or more. Ginny scrunched up her eyes, stopping tears from flowing. They couldn't do this by themselves. They needed help.
Help.
Slowly, dreamlike, Ginny's fingers moved into the pocket of her robes. She felt gingerly for the curve of the cool metal, the rough carvings of the black stone, and let out a sigh of relief when she found them there, real and tangible. All this time, he had been so close . . . how could she have forgotten? Her eyes still shut tight, Ginny turned the Resurrection Stone three times in her hand.
"Harry," Ginny breathed, even before seeing him. "I'm sorry."
"Sorry for what?"
Ginny opened her eyes and he was there, Harry, shifting his weight on the grass before her. She never thought she could miss the sight of a person more. His glasses were knocked askew, his hair untidy as ever, his eyes just as green as they had been in life. Harry reached out a hand to touch her cheek, and she swore she could feel him, a breath on the wind.
"I haven't seen you in ages." Ginny whispered. "I should have - should have talked to you more - "
"No, no, Ginny, it's good that you didn't need me." Harry said comfortingly. "I want you to move on, I want you to get better, and you do too, don't you?"
She swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded. The fervor of planning and the urgency of finding and killing Voldemort had all but driven the thought of Harry's departure from Ginny's mind. Now it was all she could do not to burst into tears.
"We need help." She said, a bit louder.
"You need to find him?"
"We can't search the whole castle, and we're not even sure - "
"He's here." Harry said. "I can feel him."
Ginny blinked.
"You can?"
Ron, Hermione, and Luna had noticed her now, talking to no one. They had broken off from their conversation and were looking at her with puzzled expressions, listening curiously. Harry looked back at them, and though they could not see, and a pained look flashed across his face - but it did not dissipate.
"He's - Voldemort's finished with the students . . . now he's starting on the dead."
Ginny's eyes widened. "He isn't - you aren't - "
"I'm not sure how much control he has over which souls he calls back, which one he uses, but - " Harry stopped, genuine hurt in his expression. "I just - I can feel it. I'm going. It's slow, but I won't be here in an hour."
"Harry - Harry, no - !"
His eyes were like lights, glinting in the darkness, shining so brightly into her own, trapping her still and helpless in their beam. They seemed to stare into her very soul, stripping her of skin and muscle and bone, until she was raw and bare. Ginny did not want Harry to go, he was the only thing keeping her here; she feared she would float away without him, without his hand on her ankles, keeping her connected, by however thin a thread, to earth. He could see into her, with those terrible, gleaming eyes, in a way that no one else could. They had been dimmer before, Ginny could ignore them if she wanted to; but now they shone bright and intimate, and she was overwhelmed by the truth she saw in them. She saw what would happen if Harry left, if he was killed. What would become of her. She rejected it immediately and without hesitation.
"No - you're wrong, Harry, I won't b-be fine - !"
"Ginny, I think you need to calm down a bit . . . " began Hermione timidly, but Ginny paid her no attention; she could feel tears in her eyes.
She was being invaded, her mind no longer the sanctum it always had been, a place she could retreat to when reality became unbearable -
"Ginny!" Harry said. His hands hovered an hair's breadth above her shoulders, which he could not touch. "Ginny, listen to me! I'm going to be fine, you hear me! We're going to find Voldemort, and stop him before anyone else has to die. All right?"
She made an effort to control herself. "C-can you tell us where he is?" Ginny gulped.
Harry looked into her eyes for a moment, his own glimmering still, but this time it was only the starlight. He nodded.
"Up high somewhere, near here. I can feel it pulling me. Search the upper floors."
"It could take hours."
"Well, we haven't got that kind of time, so we're going to have to make the best of this. Don't worry. I'll help you." He gave a weak smile, one Ginny did not return.
"The first and second floors are bound to be full of people fighting. It'll take us ages to get upstairs." She said.
Harry frowned as he thought. His eyes drifted sideways, over her shoulder, and then they widened. Ginny turned around to see the Quidditch pitch in the distance, colorful hangings removed so that its framework showed like a wooden skeleton.
To the sky, Ginny thought. She turned back to Harry, who met her gaze with fire in his eyes.
"Ginny." He said, confident and strong. "We can do this."
Ginny's mouth opened a fraction of an inch as she gazed at him for what she hoped with all her heart would not be the last time. He seemed so real to her in that moment; she reached up to touch his face, but her fingers sunk through his starlit flesh and she drew them away. Then her eyes shifted past him, though him, and his glimmering body faded into dust. The Resurrection Stone returned to her pocket, where she would not have to face the pained look in Harry's eyes. Ginny turned her towards the other three, but her gaze drifted past them as well, following Harry up and up and up.
"I know what we have to do." she said.
Hello everyone! I have to apologize for the long wait. This chapter was originally supposed to have a LOT more included in it, but Ginny's point of view gave me the excuse to get so deliciously detailed that I decided to split it into two. That will also be coming a bit sooner that usual, as I have a lot of it written down already. So, if you enjoyed The Broken Girl, I'm sure you'll like the next chapter even more. It's all coming to a close very soon, and with that in mind I'd like to thank all of you for being so supportive and patient. Especially patient. Takes a lot of that to read fanfiction from me.
