Not Just Another Final Battle Story

I am sorry this comes on such short notice. I could not bear to put the disaster in words until my recent recovery of it. Wait, I'm getting ahead of myself here. Well, my name is Ginevra Weasley, or less formally, Ginny. I finished my magical education at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry a fair few years ago, and graduated in the top ten of my class. A few years after that fateful day of my going out into the magical world with my wand, a few sets of robes, and the emotional (although not financial) support of my caring (although quite poor) family, I headed out on my own. I passed through most of wizard-inhabited England, looking for independence, love, and a place I could call home. Finally, I wandered out to Muggle suburbia. I hid my eyes from cold stares and harsh glares from average mothers, chubby toddlers, and even a pigeon. I remembered the words that Dumbledore had passed on to me years before, about Grimmauld Place, and goodness me, it popped right up in the gap between the Muggle abodes. I ran inside, but was greeted by a troll foot umbrella holder and a few cobwebs, as well as disappointment. I had somewhat expected to hear my mother, and Remus, and Sirius, and everyone else I knew from the Order. Heh, that shortness of breath that preceded my wave of nostalgia scared me. I wished with all my might that someone would jump out from behind the dusty armoire and shout "Surprise!" But alas, no such luck came my way.

However, after a few years at Grimmauld, I received an unexpected visitor. Neville Longbottom lurched through the door and fell down, dragging the blanket covering Mrs. Black down with him. She started screaming and yelling, so I draped her back up and helped Neville limp over to the table. He was badly injured; broken ankle, cut across his eyelid and half his face, not to mention the look on his face. He was haunted, like he was possessed by a poor soul, struggling to hang on to their existence.

"Neville, oh my gosh, what happened to you?"

"Never mind about me, I have vital news. I'm so relieved that you're here, I thought the place was evacuated by Death Eaters, I was coming for remnants of treasures and such, but to find you...Ginny... we need you." Ginny put her finger up to his lips.

"Quiet...please don't speak... you need your strength more than me. Who are we, though?"

"We are Harry, Ron, Hermione, Remus, and Tonks. We started out as many more, but those bloody Death Eaters are picking us off one by one. We need your help, Ginny. You must come back with me..."

"No, not yet. You must rest, regain your strength...wait, where are you guys fighting?"

"The west Albanian border. We have found their hideout, but Hermione is dying, and we can't help her. We don't know what is wrong!"

"Well, we must contact them, Neville. For now, you should rest. You need it." I then helped Neville into an upstairs bed, and promised to make him some nice hot soup. He fell asleep, and I felt another shortness of breath. I felt like I had to care for him, had to help him. I must tell you now, after a few weeks, Neville was strong and healed, and we were planning our return to the Albanian border. Yes, I agreed to go and help. I thought it would help me find the adventure I had longed for my whole life.

It was then that my journey finally began.