No One Understannds

The sky was overcast. A slight drizzle and breeze filled the air as I made my way to the Hogwarts Memorial. They say 'Hogwarts Memorial', but really it's just a fancy name for the large assortment of graves that stand upon the grounds where the Final Battle was fought. I would know. I was there.

One would never have thought of Hogwarts being like a cemetery, but it is. All of the gravestones form an enormous semicircle around the huge marble grave of Harry Potter. They used to call him the Boy-Who-Lived, but now that boy is dead. They all said that since he had defeated the Dark Lord once, he could do it again. But now look at him. He is naught but a marble grave in the shape of the Gryffindor lion.

I had with me a bouquet of roses. I had debated not coming out today, but the grey weather was just calling to me. The drizzle was dampening my hair and clothes and clung to my eyelashes as I walked to the end of the line of graves.

Neville Longbottom. I had known Neville well enough to know that he had been shaking in his shoes during the Final Battle. He fought with such fierceness that I truly saw the Gryffindor bravery come through. He fought for his parents and for his grandmother. For himself and the entire wizarding world. I plucked out a small rose and set it on the ground in front of his plain grave.

Parvati and Padma Patil. They have a joint tombstone with half of a Ravenclaw and half of a Gryffindor crest under their names. The Death Eaters had killed their parents right before the Final Battle so they fought with revenge in their eyes and died gloriously. I placed a fully bloomed rose on the damp ground.

Seamus Finnigan. He had always been a cheerful person who found the humor in most every situation. Although he wasn't the best spell caster, he was a faithful friend and someone who cared for his friends and whose friends greatly cared for him. I watched him die in battle, trying my hardest to save him, but there was nothing I could do. I set down a rose before continuing.

Luna Lovegood. She was sorely misunderstood but a wonderful person underneath. She made you think of things in the most obscure ways just to see if you would get a different answer. She had been one of the most terrified of battle, though I never found out why. She quietly put on her radish earrings and cork necklace and started sending off spells, defeating many Death Eaters and other followers before she herself was killed. A half-bloomed rose seemed to fit her personality.

Hermione Granger. There was much to say about this girl. She was the greatest witch of her age, best friends with Harry Potter, and very close to all of the Weasley family. She was smart and brave and true, all the best qualities of a Gryffindor. I had known her well, and knew that she fought her hardest during the Final Battle, dying just so that the future of the wizarding world would be safe. She deserved a fully bloomed rose.

Ronald Weasley. Red hair, freckles, a Quidditch Keeper, brother and friend. Although he was scared of dying, he walked onto the battlefield with true greatness in his heart and fought for the world. He was a wonderful person with many good qualities that are too many to name. One beautiful red rose and onto the next grave.

Cho Chang. She had never been my favorite person, but she was loyal to Dumbledore and had gone through her fair share of hardships during her life. Cedric Diggory had been ripped away from her during the Triwizard Tournament, and it was that, I believe, that made her fight so wondrously. She wanted to avenge his death and ended up joining Cedric instead. Another rose was placed, the red harshly clashing with the green grass.

Fred and George Weasley. Troublemakers, to be sure, who would have given even the Marauders a run for their money. They were pranksters, brothers, friends and had each a sense of mystery and sadness to them. They had owned the most popular store in the wizarding world and fought for many reasons, so many that I can't even be sure that I know all of them. A fully bloomed rose was left on the grave.

Dean Thomas. He was caring, a friendly face, a wonderful charmer (both magical and otherwise) and loyal to Hogwarts and Dumbledore. He was one of the most improved characters in the D.A. and it showed in his last moments on this earth. One rose and onto the next.

Draco Malfoy. He had been a student at Hogwarts with a horrible destiny. I had demanded that he get his own grave at Hogwarts because he had just been doing as he was instructed. He couldn't have changed that and I knew he was a good person underneath. I pulled out a rose for him. A thorn pricked my finger and a drop of blood fell onto the tombstone.

Harry Potter. He has the most extravagant grave, of course, and he fought the most bravely. He himself killed the Dark Lord and rid this world of his evil. It was his destiny to defeat Lord Voldemort. It was his destiny to die saving the world. It was his destiny to make the world a better place but never to see it himself. I stared up at the gallantly carved lion and got a chill down my spine. I quickly placed the remaining three roses down on Harry's grave and stood back.

Dots of red showed through the landscape. The Forbidden Forest loomed dark and mysterious in the background. The rain had starting coming down harder, soaking me through and turning my hair a deep mahogany. Water dripped down my cheeks, although I wasn't sure if they were tears or rain.

I am the only one left after the Final Battle. All of the fifth-years and below were sent home before the battle to ensure their safety. Some of the sixth-years went home as well. Even graduated students came back to Hogwarts to fight against the Dark Lord. I was one of the sixth-years. I had told myself that I would fight and die in hopes of making the world a better place. Instead, everyone I knew and loved died and here I stand, seventeen years old with a broken heart and soul. No one else knows what it was like to be in a wizarding battle and live to tell of it. Everyone who fought died. I was the only one who fought and lived. No one understands what it's like to see friends and family dying right next to you and have to live with those memories forever. No one knows what it's like to have seen the horrible deaths of Voldemort and Harry Potter and lived to tell of it. No one understands why I am always awake at three in the morning. I can't sleep because those memories haunt me. I know that people try to understand but there is nothing for them to understand. No one should have to live through something like this.

I'm seventeen years old. I'm the only survivor of the Final Battle. And my name is Ginny Weasley.