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“Harry Potter is dead.” The voice echoed through the air as if Voldemort were standing right in front of her, and she shivered involuntarily.
No, she thought calmly. It’s a lie, just to scare us. It can’t be true...
She saw a skinny, black-haired boy looking lost on Platform 9 ¾, his snowy-white owl hooting in her cage, wheeling his trunk up to the train...
She saw a pair of laughing green eyes, and the body they belonged to, at her kitchen table, staring at her, making her feel like he could see the love deep in her soul...
She saw him bending over her, his robes in tatters and his arm drenched in blood, and the hopeless look in those eyes sent a jolt of panic through her...
“He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him.”
Never, she thought fiercely, hating Voldemort for all he was, for how he insulted Harry at every possible moment with lies he knew none of them would believe. He’s just trying to make Harry come out and contradict him, she thought...
She saw him dancing at the Yule ball with Parvati Patil, but his attention was not hers. He was staring dreamily at Cho Chang, who danced with Cedric Diggory, and she felt unfounded hatred and longing course in equal measure through her veins...
She saw him materialize out of nowhere in the Quidditch field , clutching a limp Cedric Diggory’s arm, refusing to let go, anguish written all over his face, but all she could feel was relief that he was okay...
She saw the tortured look on his face when he believed himself to be possessed, and a danger to all those around him, and she felt joy that in this, at least, she could reassure him...
“We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone.”
It’s not possible. He’s only luring us out so he can slaughter us all, she reasoned. But still, she had to be sure. She made her way through the Great Hall, where the injured and uninjured alike mingled. She joined a crowd of people swelling onto the grounds, fear etched on their faces...
She saw the flicker in his eyes when he walked in on Dean and her kissing, and joy and hope rose up inside her throat...
She felt her heart soar when his lips touched hers for the first time, and they seemed so much more right than Dean’s or Michael’s ever had...
She saw the regret in his eyes when he told her they couldn’t be together, and though she had expected it, it hurt her more than she could ever tell him...
She saw a black mass of people approaching the castle. Hagrid walked at the front of the queue and held something in his arms. No, that’s not Harry, it can’t be true....
There was no mistaking who the body in Hagrid’s arms was now...
She saw the surprise on his face when she kissed him months ago, on his birthday...
For the last time, she realized.
She heard the screams. She saw his life with her dissolve in front of her eyes. She knew it was the end of everything.
“Harry! HARRY!” She heard her voice, heard the pain laced through every syllable.
“Set him down, Hagrid, at my feet, where he belongs!”
She saw Hagrid place the body gently, gently, on the ground.
She saw his face, every crease of which she knew by heart, and his lips, which she could almost feel on hers though she hadn’t kissed him for months.
I will never feel his lips on mine again. She knew it was true.
She saw his eyelids, covering those green eyes which would never again sparkle as they saw her, never again burn with the passion of defeating Voldemort and avenging all those whom he had killed...
And a song echoed from the depths of her past, from a time which now seemed so far away, a time when she was happy and carefree and Voldemort did not cast a shadow over her life.
His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad
His hair is as dark as a blackboard
I wish he was mine, he’s really divine,
the hero who conquered the Dark Lord.
Instead of making her laugh, as it had in years past, her handwritten valentine brought her to her knees, tears of anger and grief spilling out of her eyes.
She wept for a lost future, for a boy who would do anything to keep others safe, for Voldemort’s existence and all the lives he had taken. She wept for Fred, for Lupin and Tonks, for everyone who had lost anything, but most of all, for the body laying in the dirt at Voldemort’s feet, and though he was close enough almost to touch, he was far away, past the point of no return...
The hero who conquered the Dark Lord.
It was never true.
“Harry Potter is dead!”
And at that moment, Ginny Weasley could think of nothing to live for but her rage. The world was crumbling to pieces around her, and she could only hold onto one thought:
She saw her path, crystal clear as if the future was the present. She saw herself raise her wand, fire burning in her heart, her shattered heart, and desire for what was lost fueled the words:
"Avada Kedavra." She heard herself say, voice deadly calm.
She knew. She would kill Voldemort for what he had done to Harry.
No matter what it cost her.