Nothing But a Whisper

Prologue

The wizarding world had fallen from grace. Broken refrains of hope and shattered glory were all that remained. The streets of Diagon Alley, once loud and cheerful lay solemn and grey. The halls of Hogwarts were bloodied, the echo of screams resounding eternally within them. A permanent grey fog encased places once full of life, throwing all that was once happy into never-ending despair. All those who remained were nothing more than whispers, hollow bodies following a habitual motion, void of the person they had once been.

The war had ended. After long, dark years, a victor had risen to end all the suffering at last. But at what price? The wizarding world had defeated what they labeled as 'evil' but now they clung to mere scraps of the past. So many had perished, so many had suffered, and the true wealth of their world had been lost.

Those that walked the Ministry of Magic tried their best to lead, but they were not leaders. The schools tried desperately to teach, but the professors could hardly still consider themselves knowledgeable, and the children who had seen such a war we're far from innocent students. The wizarding world was nothing but a carcass of what it had once been. As far as many were concerned, their world was fading into an abyss.

After Voldemort wormed his way into the Ministry, death and persecution became a daily occurrence. Those that rose up to challenge him soon found their eternal slumber. Light fought Dark, Dark killed Light--mercilessly and without end. Those that once called themselves 'good' were changed forever as blood soiled their hands. As loved ones continued to fall, it became harder and harder to find something worth fighting for. Even Voldemort's followers found themselves in a constant state of fear and questioned the fight. The thought of just letting death's sweat caress take them away from this hell on Earth was one that permeated both sides of the war.

Finally, The Chosen One had ended it all in a grueling fight that took the lives of nearly every member of the Order of the Phoenix. But even as he raised the flaming sword above him, enemies continued to swoop down and death followed for months after. It wasn't until the last loyal follower admitted defeat that the sun broke free on the bleak horizon. The world on which it shed light, however, was nothing but an empty shell of a world long gone; one that it was hard at times to believe had ever been real.

So it was in this dismal state that the Boy-Who-Lived took up the position of Minister of Magic and filled the Ministry with whoever remained and was willing. He was not a political person and his heart was never in it. He brooded day after day, blaming himself for every life lost, longing for friends he watched die before his eyes, and praying for hope to come.

The wizarding world was weeping for generations of good men and women buried in the rubble or war. The reconstruction on Diagon Alley and Hogwarts and all the other places touched by battle had begun, but it would take much more to rebuild the hearts of those who remained. For, when you have stood on the precipice of death and walked through the depths of Hades, it is impossible to emerge on the other side unscathed.

Happiness and hope are fragile things. They can come as easily as they go and disappear without a reason. They can keep a person hanging on, searching, or they can lead them to their end. They will taunt you and hurt you and yet you will keep looking for them, desperately wanted them. They were two words which most people had learned to live without, simply holding on, hoping the next generation of wizards and witches would rise above the ruins to create a better future.

And it was in this dark corner of the universe that Ginny woke every morning, sighed at her reflection in the mirror, and left for work without a single expectation that life would ever get any better, having long ago become a part of the abyss surrounding her.