I've seen plenty of fanfiction stories where many of us are paired romantically with people that we didn't actually end up with, ranging from interesting to completely disgusting. Quite often, I am shunned in these, with people choosing to put Harry with Hermione, Luna, and for reasons I cannot fathom, Draco Malfoy. Hell, I've even heard of extremely graphic stories depicting Harry with Voldemort! Yes, that's right, fucking Voldemort, a man responsible for hundreds of deaths! What these people are smoking, to think that such stories are a good idea is beyond me! I mean, at least Hermione and Luna were his friends, as they are mine, and there's been stories of me in a relationship with both of them too, but come on, Draco, Voldemort, really?!

Some of you Muggles are really messed up!

There's also been a lot of hate in general directed towards me, which I find completely unjustified and extremely nonsensical. It's difficult to know where to begin, but I'll just go through some of the most common things that are said and address them. The first, and worst of all, is that I was a slut. Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope. Not even close. This idea originates from Joanne's books, well, obviously all of these ideas do, but even the version of me she portrayed isn't anything like what these people claim! In real life, I have only ever had one boyfriend, now my husband, Harry. In her version, I had 2 boyfriends before Harry, Michael Corner and Dean Thomas. As I'm sure all of you know, being a slut means going through a shit ton of boys and tossing them all aside with no real feelings given to them. This is so far from who I am that it's disrespectful. Some believe the version of me in those books just used Michael and Dean to get to Harry, but no, she didn't, nor would I ever do so. If that was my actual situation, it would have just been me just trying to make those relationships work, only for them not to for one reason or another.

I'm also sometimes accused of being elitist, in that I only ever surround myself with famous people. But, as I've already proved in this story, and as the version of myself in the books did, I've befriended nobodies before, and I will continue to befriend nobodies if I like them. Neville and Luna had no fame whatsoever before I met them, yet we've still been friends since I was 11, and that was the case in the books too. Demelza didn't have anything significant to her, but she's been my best mate since we were 11. Same goes for Magda, Andrew etc etc. I think Joanne's version of me choosing to date Michael and Dean also further disproves that point. It isn't something that would ever change as I became older either.

Many also claim that I was a fangirl obsessed with Harry and that I practically stalked him! Again, just utter bullshit! In real life as you know, I made friends with Harry from day one. But even in those early books, even though that version of me clearly loved Harry, she still did her best to be independent and her own person, only occasionally interacting with him. She wasn't like Colin bloody Creevey, begging for Harry's attention every five seconds, and wanting photos and autographs, nor would I ever be like that! I knew and still know that Harry hates the fame and attention, so I would not be giving that to him.

In the mid 2000s, there existed a website called "1001 ways to kill Ginny Weasley". I wish I was joking. I can't for the life of me understand this level of hate. Thankfully, as far as I'm aware, that website has been shut down. Anyway, rant over, for all those of you who like me, and have defended me over the years, I thank you. For those who continue to read and support my story, I thank you. Let's get back to it...

With a sudden rush of understanding, I realized who the people in the end beds must be, and a very deep sinking feeling settled in my stomach. This was why Moody hadn't allowed me to hear about Neville's parents before, and why Neville hadn't talked about them.

Ron called "Neville!"

Neville jumped and cowered as though a bullet had narrowly missed him.

"It's us, Neville!" said Ron brightly. "Have you seen? Lockhart's here! Who've you been visiting?"

"Friends of yours, Neville, dear?" said Neville's grandmother graciously, bearing down upon us all.

Neville looked as though he would rather be anywhere in the world but here. A dull purple flush was creeping up his plump face and he was not making eye contact with any of them.

"Ah, yes," said his grandmother, looking closely at Harry and sticking out a shriveled, clawlike hand for him to shake. "Yes, yes, I know who you are, of course. Neville speaks most highly of you."

"Er — thanks," said Harry, shaking hands. Neville did not look at him, but stared at his own feet, the color deepening in his face all the while. "And you two are clearly Weasleys," Mrs. Longbottom continued, proffering her hand regally to Ron and I in turn. "Yes, I know your parents — not well, of course — but fine people, fine people … and you must be Hermione Granger?"

Hermione looked rather startled that Mrs. Longbottom knew her name, but shook hands all the same. "Yes, Neville's told me all about you. Helped him out of a few sticky spots, haven't you? And (she now looked at Demelza and Amy) I apologise, but I'm afraid I don't know who you two are at all"

"I'm Amy Bagman, and this is Demelza Robins" said Amy

"A Bagman?" said Mrs Longbottom "I was terribly sorry to hear-"

"Yeah, yeah, Ludo's in Azkaban cause he was a dickhead, let's all feel sorry for Amy, I've heard it all before!" Amy snapped

"There's no need to take that tone with me" said Mrs Longbottom dangerously

Amy looked at Neville, then at his grandmother, then at the end beds, then seemed to realise why they were there, and remember what she'd said only a few minutes ago. Her eyes widened and she bit her lip, then looked down and mumbled, "Oh, uhh, sorry, madam"

Mrs Longbottom chose to pretend that the moment had not occurred.

"He's a good boy," she said, casting a sternly appraising look down her rather bony nose at Neville, "but he hasn't got his father's talent, I'm afraid to say. …" And she jerked her head in the direction of the two beds at the end of the ward, so that the stuffed vulture on her hat trembled alarmingly.

"What?" said Ron, looking amazed. "Is that your dad down the end, Neville?"

"What's this?" said Mrs. Longbottom sharply. "Haven't you told your friends about your parents, Neville?" Neville took a deep breath, looked up at the ceiling, and shook his head.

"Well, it's nothing to be ashamed of!" said Mrs. Longbottom angrily. "You should be proud, Neville, proud! They didn't give their health and their sanity so their only son would be ashamed of them, you know!"

"I'm not ashamed," said Neville very faintly, still looking anywhere but at us. Ron was now standing on tiptoe to look over at the inhabitants of the two beds.

"Well, you've got a funny way of showing it!" said Mrs. Longbottom. "My son and his wife," she said, turning haughtily to us "were tortured into insanity by You-Know-Who's followers."

Hermione, Demelza, Amy and I all clapped our hands over our mouths. Even though we already had put two and two together, to hear it spoken out loud, and to hear the reason for their presence here, was still shocking and extremely horrible. I didn't think it would ever be possible to feel more sorry for anyone. Amy looked extremely guilty for her rudeness.

Ron stopped craning his neck to catch a glimpse of Neville's parents and looked mortified. "They were Aurors, you know, and very well respected within the Wizarding community," Mrs. Longbottom went on. "Highly gifted, the pair of them. I — yes, Alice dear, what is it?"

Neville's mother had come edging down the ward in her nightdress. Her face was thin and worn now, her eyes seemed overlarge, and her hair, which had turned white, was wispy and dead-looking. She did not seem to want to speak, or perhaps she was not able to, but she made timid motions toward Neville, holding something in her outstretched hand.

"Again?" said Mrs. Longbottom, sounding slightly weary. "Very well, Alice dear, very well — Neville, take it, whatever it is. …"

But Neville had already stretched out his hand, into which his mother dropped an empty Droobles Blowing Gum wrapper.

"Very nice, dear," said Neville's grandmother in a falsely cheery voice, patting his mother on the shoulder.

But Neville said quietly, "Thanks Mum." His mother tottered away, back up the ward, humming to herself.

Neville looked around at us his expression defiant, as though daring us to laugh, but I didn't think it was possible for anything to be less funny.

"Well, we'd better get back," sighed Mrs. Longbottom, drawing on long green gloves. "Very nice to have met you all. Neville, put that wrapper in the bin, she must have given you enough of them to paper your bedroom by now. …"

But as they left, I was sure I saw Neville slip the wrapper into his pocket.