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Author: Bekken Story: Untitled Rating: Young Teens Setting: Pre-HBP Status: Completed Reviews: 0 Words: 16,186
Disclaimer: I am not, do not own, and am not affiliated with J.K. Rowling, and all characters referred to from the Harry Potter book series belong to her. Nor do I have any connection to Warner Bros., Scholastic Publishing, Christopher Little Publishing, and various other publishing houses that have copyrighted Harry Potter and characters. * Author's notes: I'm sorry it's taken me so long to update – no, really, I am. But, I have a goal not to let any of my stories sit on the Common Room Floor, so this will be finished. Soon, I promise. I keep remarking that Me is a slim book, but really, it's getting rather long. So, I'm going to try and cut a little shorter. Don't worry. Once Ginny is done with Hogwarts, there isn't too much left. * "Harry!" said Jeffrey French, jovially. He walked into Harry's office. Blushing, Harry slid Me under his desk. "Jeff," Harry greeted him, grinning. Jeff put his hands down on Harry's desk. "Listen, Hare," he said. Inside, Harry bristled. 'Don't call me Hare,' he thought to himself. "I'm going to be straight with you," he said. "I need that report on Chad Proctor. Now. It was assigned to you two days ago, and we haven't seen it." Harry blushed to the roots of his hair. "I'm sorry, Jeff, but…" "It isn't done?" Jeff guessed. "I'll let that pass for now, but I want you to know that if this continues, you are severely in danger of jeopardising your chances of moving up in this job." With a cheeky grin at Harry, he turned, and walked out of the room. Harry slammed his hand into the desk. Ignoring the pain, he pulled out the file on Chad Proctor. On Monday, the eleventh of November, Chaddius Ottoman Proctor was found enchanting a non human creature (said creature being an elf, in previous times referred to as house-elf) with the Imperius curse to do his work for free. Such magic is not only illegal on humans and elves, but… Harry couldn't keep writing. He knew he couldn't. He had to finish Me. Thumbing for his place, he opened the book. "After Dumbledore died, things became awful. People…lost hope, I suppose you could say. To all of us, Dumbledore had seemed living proof that we could defeat Voldemort. Without him, the war seemed like a lost cause. So many people gave up. They just willingly submitted. All they tried to do was stay alive. Those were dark times." 'Well, that's an understatement,' Harry thought to himself, sadly. Those were evil times, plain and simple. "The school tried to continue the teaching with Minerva McGonagall as Headmistress, but the wards Dumbledore had set up around the school were going to pieces, and frequent attacks on the school caused fear among students, parents, and teachers. Hogwarts was soon closed down. A small army was built – the Order of the Phoenix. My father and mother were part of that army. We lived in constant fear that we would be killed. Each morning, everyone dreaded waking up. We took precautions; we tried to stay safe. No longer did my brothers and I run on the fields and play in the creek. By this time, only Fred, George, Ron, and I were in Hogwarts. Fred and George immediately joined the Order of the Phoenix, but Ron and I were forbidden to; we were "too young". Our parents taught us a little magic here and there – we were now allowed to use magic outside of school. However, our education was cut short. My brother, Ron, lived in fear for Hermione Granger. She was Muggle-born, and Voldemort was particularly malicious to the Muggle-borns. Harry wasn't allowed to visit us; he was confined to his aunt and uncle's house. Ron grew quite angry over not being able to see his friends. It seemed like back in the old days, when all we had was each other. Only, back then, nothing else mattered to us, but each other. Now, Ron had his own friends to worry about, and I…didn't. We spent the days doing nothing but worrying. We awaited owls, quite basically. I began a regular correspondence with both Hermione and Harry, much to Ron's displeasure. 'Find yourself your own friends,' I remember him telling me once. I never did." Harry was startled by the arrival of a large, dark brown owl. It had a letter tied to its leg. "Sage?" Harry asked, stroking the chestnut owl. It nipped his finger affectionately. Sage was Ginny's owl. He remembered so clearly when Ginny had got him. She had been absolutely intent on getting an owl. Harry had gone with her to the Magical Menagerie, and Ginny had walked immediately towards the back. "This one," she said, picking up Sage, just a baby owl at the time. "Are you sure?" Harry had asked her. "Maybe you'll want to look around more…" "No," said Ginny. "This one." She looked at the mahogany owl critically. "You could call him Dumbledore," Harry said, helpfully. Ginny's face fell at the mention of the Headmaster's name, and Harry regretted saying anything. "No…" Ginny said softly. "She's a girl." Harry blushed. "Oh." "Sage," said Ginny said after a moment. "I'm going to call her Sage." And nothing could change her mind. Harry looked at Sage, who had certainly grown from the baby owl they'd taken from the Magical Menagerie that day. He untied the letter from her leg. Dear Harry, It read. I know that you probably haven't got to my book yet, but…Well, I thought, if you had, that maybe you might write me back and tell me what you think? Love from, Ginny Harry read over the note once more, trying to figure out if she still thought he ought to be her future husband. He liked the girl, and all, but marriage? Dear Ginny, He hastily scribbled back. Your future HUSBAND????? -Harry P.S. Was that a proposal? Harry grinned, and tied his response onto Sage's leg. She took off out the window, and Harry picked up the book again. "I had made friends and Hogwarts, of course. I always had a person to visit Hogsmeade with, a person to accompany me to the Yule Ball (but only as a friend – my brothers made sure of that). I always had a girl to giggle with in the middle of the night, and someone to laugh with if something funny happened in class. But I had nothing like what Ron had Harry and Hermione had. I was more alone than they would ever know." 'Alone?' Harry thought to himself. Ginny had never seemed alone to him. She'd always had friends…right? As time went by, the Order of the Phoenix became discouraged. It seemed like nothing was being done. Voldemort had taken control of everything by then – shops, the Ministry of Magic, the people. Everyone knew something had to be done, but no one was brave enough to do anything. Except for Ron, Harry, and Hermione. They all met up – I still don't know how, and no one will tell me – and formed their own army." Harry remembered this. They had called their army the Circle of Friends – at Hermione's insistence. She was such a girl sometimes. The day preceding, Ron had owled Harry and Hermione in a fury, saying that Ernie MacMillian had been killed. He didn't know how, but he had somehow known that all three of them were thinking the same thing at the same time: Do something. And they had. Harry had scribbled a note back to Ron to meet him at the Leaky Cauldron. He'd written the same type of note to Hermione. He'd written a short note to the Dursleys, consisting of mainly nothing, but, "Family", I am leaving. I may be killed. I know you will not care/worry. I may never come back. Or I might, depending on who wins the war. Goodbye (hopefully forever). -Harry J. Potter He had taken off down the street at night, and caught the Knight Bus. After being dropped off at the Leaky Cauldron, he met up with Ron, and the two of them waited for Hermione. She arrived about two hours later, breathless, and with news. They had an "unnamed source" that could potentially feed them a lot of information about Voldemort ("You-Know-WHO!" he remembered Ron screaming). They had discussed a strategy and a plan that night. Deep down, all of them knew they were probably going to lose the war – it was practically just the three of them fighting. However, they didn't lose. On one important day, Harry, Ron, and Hermione battled their way into a dark chamber. They had word that their "unnamed source" was being held inside. Only females could pass through, so Harry and Ron were forced to wait, much to their displeasure. Hermione came back out, hours later, looking worn. She said that Voldemort had been defeated – and the unnamed source would not leave until they did. When they pressed her for how, she just sighed heavily and said nothing. So, of course, Harry and Ron knew that Hermione herself had done it. "They fought tirelessly against Voldemort. And they didn't know that I did too. At least, Harry and Ron didn't. I employed myself as a spy. I was quite good at becoming different people, and I did. Many people. I was the girlfriend of Death Eaters, the trusted friend, and posed as a Death Eater myself for awhile. I did all I could to help our cause. I fed all this information to Hermione, and she fed it to Harry and Ron, and the few others that joined them along the way." 'What?' he thought to himself. 'That simply can't be possible! I can't believe she put herself in danger like that! I knew we had an unnamed source – Hermione said that more than once – but…' He couldn't believe it. She had risked so much by doing all of that. "I don't think Harry and Ron ever had a clue. It was hard work – very hard work. I was in danger of losing my life more than once. I often felt scared and alone, and there was no one I could really talk to, no one I could really trust. The more people that knew about me, the more likely I was to be caught by Voldemort. I remember one such night – spent huddled in the cold, watching the Death Eaters from behind a bush. Old-fashioned tactics for spying, yes, but effective, nevertheless. I couldn't even begin to tell you how much information I learned creeping behind bushes under an Invisibility Cloak. (Harry's, if you're interested.)" 'So that's where it went,' Harry thought to himself. 'Must get that back.' He turned the page. "The night was cold – the sort of cold only England can know. The wind was whipping round my face, and I was afraid it might blow off the Invisibility Cloak – and then what a fine spot I would be in. As it was, Voldemort and his followers were already suspicious. They spoke in whispers, and no amount of Voice-Raising Charms could let me hear them. Finally, I decided to try a charm not often used nowadays – Grottum Erasium. It's an ancient spell, but an effective one. I whispered the words, and waved my wand – but one of the Death Eaters heard my whispering. Lucius Malfoy was his name, and he had suspected I was a spy for quite a while. 'Weasley,' he hissed, and never have I felt so scared to hear my own name. He said it with a vengeance, with an anger that was foreign to me. The Dark Lord heard him. He ordered a search of the entire premises. I knew – I knew – that I was going to die that day. And I was almost right. As the Death Eaters walked around, waving their wands over certain areas, I huddled under the Invisibility Cloak, hoping beyond hope that they wouldn't notice me. But I knew they would. They were performing checks for traces of magic all around the bushes – and I had tried to use countless hearing charms. I was scared. Plain and simple, I was scared for my life. I heard the Death Eaters stomping towards me. I squeezed my eyes tight, hoping to block out the pain I was soon to feel. I had heard of what Voldemort did to spies. I heard a rough, low voice mutter, 'Tracium,' as I huddled there. The magic tracing spells. Within seconds, it would all be over. They would torture me to get all the information they could out of me…and then they would get rid of me. Yet, to my surprise, I heard the Death Eater…move on? What was he playing at? He must have known I was there…right? But, I heard them report back to the Dark Lord, and say, 'Nothing there, Master.' Now, it might have been just a fluke. Maybe that Death Eater performed the spell wrong. Maybe his wand was malfunctioning. Maybe for some reason it just wasn't working. But I truly believe it was the spirit of Dumbledore, keeping me safe." Harry smiled. Just like something Dumbledore would do. "I couldn't get Dumbledore's prophecy out of my head – that I would be the one to end the war. That couldn't be possible, could it? Surely Harry, or someone braver than me… No one knows what happened down there. They all think that Hermione Granger ended the war. Hermione and I are the only two that know the real truth. We have discussed it at length. And we've decided – it's time to tell the truth to the world. And, perhaps, make the Legend of Hermione Granger the Legend of Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley. You see, although all the fame has been cast to Hermione for defeating Voldemort – she did not work alone. She is very upset about being given all the credit, let me assure you. And also, I feel like a little bit of an idiot, and a gloater, to share this with you. But, it is a part of my life. I defeated Voldemort. I never could have done it without Hermione's help in that cavern – but it was I that cast the actual spell. " 'Is she bloody serious?' Harry thought to himself. 'But Hermione…no way. This can't be.' Ginny? Ginny had defeated Voldemort? But hadn't Hermione…? Ginny was their unnamed source…and she had been down in the cavern…Harry muddled over it in his brain. 'But if Ginny was the one to defeat him, why is Hermione getting all the credit?' Harry came to a startling realisation. 'Because of Ron and I.' "Believe me, I don't enjoy sharing this with you. It makes me feel cocky, and annoying. But Hermione forced me. And, as she said, everyone deserves the truth. A few days before Voldemort's defeat, I was taking a much needed rest. I had got a room at the Leaky Cauldron, and was sleeping when an owl rapping on my window woke me. It was a letter from Hermione. She said that my help was needed urgently – come immediately to a small alleyway in Diagon Alley. Of course, I went, honestly believing I would meet Hermione there. To my surprise, it was not the smart, brunette wizard that was waiting for me, but four Death Eaters, who had me bound and gagged in nothing flat. I was taken to a small cavern, and left there for days. I received no food, no water, no sunlight, no exercise. I believed I would soon die. Then, to my surprise, Hermione burst through into the cavern. The Death Eaters who were supposed to be guarding me were fast asleep, and Hermione crept toward me, and undid the ropes binding me with a simple spell. One of the Death Eaters had my wand clutched tightly in his hand. He snored, peacefully, lying his head on the table. Hermione and I crept towards him slowly. Nervously, I reached out a hand, and tried to gently slide the wand from his hand. In a flash he was up, and though I managed to grab my own wand, he was pointing his at me before you could say, 'You-Know-Who'. 'She's out,' he called to the others. Hermione and I faced him. Soon, they were all up. They circled us, pointing their wands at us. I felt Hermione nudged me. And suddenly, somehow, I knew what she was thinking. The Multiple Disarming Spell, Expelliarmae. It would disarm all the Death Eaters at once. They were standing around us, trying to figure out the best way to get our wands, when we both shouted, 'Expelliarmae!' We were soon the proud owners of five Death Eater's wands. Within seconds, we had them bound and gagged. We were going to leave, when we heard a horrible scream of anger behind us. We turned around…and there was Voldemort. He was tall, and strong. He scared me, really. But I'd never admit it. He gave a cold, evil-blooded laugh, and before we had time to react, he'd disarmed us. He threw our wands casually behind his shoulders. He did not free his Death Eaters, his loyal supporters, from their chains. Instead, he looked at us. 'How nice of you to join us, Granger,' he said. 'Weasley. I hope you find our small home pleasurable.' 'Very,' Hermione spat out. I seemed to have lost my voice for a second. 'You do realise, of course,' he said, slowly. 'That you are both about to…die.' He gave us an evil grin. He pointed his wand at us, and said, 'Avada-' Before I knew what I was doing, I shouted, 'Accio wand!' And, to my surprise, my wand came to me. I learned later that I am capable of the simplest wandless magic. Nothing complex. I pointed my wand at Voldemort. 'Not so cocky now, eh?' I asked. He looked at me and laughed. 'As if a fifteen year old could stop me!' he said, cruelly. 'I have powers you have never dreamed of, girl!' And then, from out of my mouth, came an incantation I'd never heard before. 'Calleum dracem alorum deficia,' I chanted. 'Asaim peda groshum couera.' Hermione began to chant along with me. A beam of golden light issued from my wand, and soon, Hermione's palm sent out a beam as well. The two beams merged, and engulfed Voldemort in their light. We chanted softer and softer, until the beams faded. Hermione was looking down at her palm in awe. But I was looking at Voldemort. He was a shrivelled thing – little, and weak. Wrinkles covered his skin. He glared at us. I could see fear in his eyes. But I could also see other things. Anger. Hate. Hostility. That charm, to this day, does not work when I perform it. I do not know where it came from – I've never seen it in any book. I certainly didn't make it up myself. I believe that Dumbledore was feeding me those words, and he was working through me. And, thinking this, I pointed my wand at Voldemort. 'Forisum disaperaum,' I said. And, with a beam of green light, he disappeared. The non-existence curse. He ceased to exist. So that he could not come back. Even as a ghost. Hermione looked at me. And then she hugged me. And we began to laugh, and dance for joy. After a little while, Hermione said, 'Ron and Harry will be worried.' I became nervous. 'Hermione they can't know – about me, I mean. Could you just…just tell them you defeated Voldemort or something?' 'I'll think of something,' Hermione assured me. And she did. To conclude on the war, I will say that all of us worked tirelessly, and in the end, Voldemort was defeated. And that had been the goal all along. Voldemort was gone. You can't imagine the rejoicing. Parties, balls, the world began to turn again. Everywhere, there was a smile on people's faces. There were festivals; people rejoiced. The world was at its best. My brother Ron proposed to Hermione, and she accepted – and they set a date two years away to the day. June 21." Harry remembered. Ron and Hermione had met him at a restaurant in Diagon Alley. They'd announced to him that they were getting married. "MARRIED?" Harry remembered asking. "You're bloody sixteen!" "In a couple of years, Harry," Hermione had said, laughing. "Oh. Right then," he said. He smiled. "Congratulations," he said. And it was then that he began to feel a little wistful for his own love interest. "Hogwarts reopened, with Professor McGonagall as Headmistress, the first Headmistress ever of Hogwarts. All of us who were fifth year and below when Hogwarts closed were sent back, other students were allowed to learn on their own. There was a flood of first years, as during the war none could be admitted. We older ones always walked around complaining about how "kids" were taking over the school. For most of us, the war had changed our perspective on life. We studied harder, played harder, and treasured every moment we had. We appreciated life. We had learned to. During that year, I began to date Harry Potter. That relationship was…a mess if there ever was one. Filled with tears, angry older brothers, and broken glass. Needless to say, it did not work out. We broke up shortly afterward, and remained friends. I was quite the mischievous one back in Hogwarts, and after Harry broke up with me, I liked to play a few pranks on him here and there." 'I broke up with her?' Harry thought to himself. 'She broke up with me!' "It was just little things – putting pepper into his pumpkin juice, transfiguring his robes into dresses. Nothing harmful. One day I was sneaking around in the boys' dorm, trying to open Harry's trunk so that I could get at his boxers and turn them pink. (Juvenile, I know). It was the day before the last day of Harry's sixth year. He was ready to leave school, and would, like Ron and Hermione, not be returning the next year. I was grumbling about his trunk when I heard a sharp rapping on the door. Ron was asleep in his bed, and awoke at this. I groaned and threw myself under Harry's bed. A sleepy Ron went and opened the door. Professor McGonagall stood there, a stern look on her face. "Ronald Weasley!" she exclaimed, sternly. She glared at him. "Which of you sixth year boys are responsible for enchanting the Slytherins' robes to say, 'I love Gryffindor sixth years!'?" Ron yawned. "Dunno," he muttered. "And who's that under there?" she asked, looking at me. "Come out at once." Blushing, I left my hiding spot. Professor McGonagall looked shocked. So did Ron. "Miss Weasley?" she asked, as if she could barely believe it. I squirmed. "Er…er…" She looked at me. "Miss Weasley, do you realise being in a dormitory of the opposite sex is punishable by expulsion?" My heart stopped, and l forgot to breathe. Ron looked from me to Professor McGonagall and blurted out hurriedly, "It's my fault she's here, Professor." She turned on him. "Excuse me?" "I…er…asked her to come," he said, quickly. I looked at him in disbelief. "And why would you do that?" asked the professor, her hands on her hips. "I…I…I wanted to set her up with Harry again," he fibbed turning red. I don't think he could have come up with a worse excuse. He hated the idea of Harry and I together. "Please don't punish her, Professor," he pleaded. "Expel me." I was so touched. It was like when we were children, and Ron would take the blame. I almost cried. "Don't expel him!" I cried. "It's my fault; leave him out of it!" Ron gave me a look. "Don't listen to her, Professor," he said. "She's obviously delusional." A hint of a smile played across Professor McGonagall's lips. "I have sufficient evidence to expel both of you right now," she told us. Ron turned white as a sheet, and I'm sure I must have as well. "But I'm not going to," she continued. I let out a sigh of relief. "However," she added, "Mr. Weasley, you will not be completing school this year, and will instead stay on for your seventh year. You and Miss Weasley will be responsible for helping to clean the Great Hall every Sunday – without magic." I groaned. It was better than being expelled, but without magic?? I'll never forget what Ron did for me. He'd rather be expelled, and lose all rights to practice magic, than to see me expelled. I knew there was a reason I loved him. Most of us (including myself) were granted early completion of school, finishing in our sixth year. I left school top student in my class, much to my surprise, and things seemed almost wonderful. The school, however, would never be the same without our headmaster. Nothing could ever be the same without Dumbledore. Professor McGonagall tried hard, and she meant well, but all of us knew she could never fill his shoes. He was a great man. There were many deaths during the war against Voldemort. Many people I thought of as friends became enemies, and many of those I loved died for the cause. One of my good friends, and the Care of Magical Creatures teacher at Hogwarts, Rubeus Hagrid, said to me that maybe we shouldn't concentrate on the people who died – we should concentrate on what they died for. Hagrid died in battle with Death Eaters. He was tortured beyond his very limits. I mourn for him, but I will never forget what he died for. He died so that we, all of us, could have a life free from fear, free from rejection, free from worry. He died because he wanted our lives to be happier. Sometimes, I think about all the people who died. I sob myself to sleep some nights, when I cannot think of anything but watching their mangled bodies tortured more (and I did). And some days, I just fall into one of my brothers' arms and cry for Dumbledore, for Hagrid, for Ernie MacMillian and Hannah Abbot, for Parvati Patil, and Severus Snape, for Neville Longbottom. I cry for everyone. But I wake up in the morning, and it is a new day. We can't stop time with our grief. Life goes on. The only choice we have is to keep living, to keep doing what they would have wanted us to do. To keep fighting for their cause. Perhaps this is why I became an Auror. Perhaps this is why I spend my days chasing remaining Death Eaters and combating Dark forces. I want these people to have died with cause. I want them to have a reason to have died. I want to be able to give them that reason. To look at it from one perspective, I want to justify their deaths. I know that I am lucky. Not everyone's family survived. I still have my mother and father, and Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, and Ron. I still have Hermione, and I still have Harry. I made out luckier than a lot of people. But, still, I sometimes wonder if the well of sadness inside of me will ever be healed. I wake up every morning, and tell myself, "Ginny, today is a new day. The slate is clean." The slate is clean today. Today is a new day. And today, I am me." Underneath those words, in small print, the book read, "T H E E N D" Harry was almost…he was almost sorry it was over. He flipped back a few pages, and then forward some. Then he noticed another few pages of text, at the very end, after a few blank pages. He began to read.
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