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Voldemort was trembling when he pointed his wand and ordered someone to check if Harry Potter was finally, truly dead.
He meant for the spell—not even that--just a rush of power and the desire to cause a little pain—to hit Narcissa, but his hand was shaking, and he hit Lucius instead.
It didn’t matter. They were equally expendable, and Lord Voldemort didn’t miss.
Lucius stumbled to the boy’s body and reached over to feel his neck. He held it there for a moment, then jerked back like he’d been burned.
“Alive.”
Harry Potter jumped to his feet, hurling a stupefy hex at Lucius. Still too afraid to kill. Stupid boy.
Voldemort raised his wand and shot another flash of green like at the boy who would not die, and Harry Potter fell. He did not get back up.
This time, Voldemort did not fall with him, so he laughed and shot another half dozen killing curses at Harry Potter’s body. In triumph, of course. Not fear.
He was too exultant to notice when one of the curses hit Lucius’ stunned body or to hear Narcissa scream.
“And now, I am unstoppable,” he whispered and ordered the half giant to pick up his enemy’s body.
Narcissa left her husband in the forest. She needed to find her son.
Tom Riddle led his conquering army to the ruins of the school he claimed to love, and Harry did not need to hide his breathing. Minerva McGonagall screamed, and Harry did not hear it. Ginny tried to charge Voldemort, planning to strangle him with her bare hands, but Arthur Weasley held her back.
Neville pulled a sword from the sorting hat and killed a snake. Reinforcements from Hogsmeade streamed in, as did an army of centaurs and a battalion of house-elves. Harry would have been trampled, if Hagrid hadn’t pulled him into his arms and carried him to the castle.
Ginny tore herself from her father’s grip and followed the half-giant because Harry couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t. He couldn’t have left without saying goodbye.
Hagrid laid Harry on the floor of a small antechamber off the Great Hall, kissed his brow with tear-drenched lips and ran back to join the fight, closing the door to chamber behind him without noticing Ginny.
She could hear the last breaths of the war just a wall away, and she would go back soon. She wouldn’t stand by and watch anyone else she love die, but she had to check. She had to be sure. She had to be sure because when she was eleven, Harry Potter had come for her even when everyone else thought she was dead.
Ginny fell to her knees, pressed her hand to Harry’s throat and let out a single sob when she felt the cold stillness there. She kissed his brow and threw her arms across his chest like some fucking widow, except she was barely seventeen and he wasn’t even eighteen. In the Muggle world, they were both still children.
His chest was too soft, like there was a blanket beneath his robes, but Ginny knew what it was. She bit her tongue to stop her own scream, but she reached up Harry’s robes and pulled out his invisibility cloak. What was that stupid, noble idiot thinking? Why didn’t he hide?
Ginny thought about Voldemort’s silencing charms that kept failing. About how he couldn’t torture Neville properly, and she understood.
Harry kept many secrets from her on Dumbledore’s orders, but he had told her how he survived Voldemort’s first killing curse.
Ginny Weasley threw on Harry’s invisibility cloak and went to find Tom Riddle.
She found him dueling McGonagall, Kingsley, and Slughorn all at once. Bellatrix was fighting her Mum, laughing at the plump woman in shabby robes until the moment Molly Weasley’s deadly curse hit her in the chest.
Tom Riddle screamed, and his opponents were blasted back.
Ginny took off the cloak and raised her wand.
“Hello Tom Riddle,” she said.
“How dare you!” Riddle hissed. He sent a streak of green light towards her, and she dodged, not because she was afraid of it, but because she had something to say first.
Molly screamed, and Ron tried to pull her away.
“No!” she shook her brother off, “It’s my right to kill him. And I know how.”
The crowd fell still, and Riddle’s mouth curled, “Is that right, little girl? What makes you think you will be able to vanquish me when no one, not even the great Harry Potter, has come close?”
“Because he taught me how.”
Riddle’s eyes widened, just a little, just enough for her to know she had scared him.
Then he laughed, and she felt the laugh in every ounce of her bones and through the pages of a long-destroyed diary.
“Potter’s found himself another shield. It’s too bad he didn’t live long enough to use it.”
You’ve got in the wrong way around, Ginny thought. She stepped closer. The crowd gasped, but she ignored them.
“I know you Tom. I know you better than anyone, so I’m going to give you one chance to lay down your wand before I kill you.”
Riddle’s snake-like nostrils flared, “And how do you claim to know me? What power of yours could possibly exceed my own?”
“You stole a year of my life, Tom Riddle,” she said, “I poured my soul into your diary, and it almost killed me, but I know you, and I know how to kill you.”
Riddle raised his wand to her chest, “Explain.”
“You are brilliant and charming and maniacal, but you are wholly incapable of love, and it’s made you a complete idiot.”
“Love,” Riddle sneered, “Is that what your precious Harry Potter taught you, that love would kill me? Love did not save him tonight, silly girl. Why would it save you?”
“Because that’s how love works. It saves others, not yourself.” Ginny raised her wand, “But if you’re so sure I’m wrong, then let’s duel.”
“Ginny!” her Mum shrieked, and the sound hurt worse than any curse the Carrow’s ever threw at her, but Ginny didn’t take her eyes from Tom Riddle as he opened his mouth. There was a flash of green light, and Ginny suddenly, fiercely hoped she wasn’t wrong.
“What the hell work you thinking?”
A pair of bright green eyes glared over her and Ginny let out a sob of simultaneous horror and joy.
“So he could kill me?”
“No,” Harry reached a hand down and helped her up, “But he hurt you badly enough for you to die if you wanted to, but I swear to God, if you try that, I’m not going to speak to you for the rest of eternity. Literally.”
“So what is this?”
Harry shrugged and sat down, “Some kind of in-between place.” He coughed and flushed, “You might want to wish for some robes.”
She glanced down at her naked body in mild surprise, “Oh.” The next moment, she was wearing scarlet Quidditch robes. She looked around. The room seemed very familiar, just strangely shiny.
“Is this the Quidditch locker room?” she asked finally, “Just without the dirt, gum, and graffiti?”
Harry nodded, “Looks like. You could take your broom and fly. That’s the poetic way to say you’d die, but like I said. That’s not happening.”
“Like you have any right to tell me what to do,” she spat, “You let him kill you! After everything we did to protect you, after everything, after Fred . . .” She cleared her throat, “You just went off and died.”
Harry looked at his hands, “I had to Gin. When he tried to kill me that first time, part of his soul got blasted off and stuck itself to me. He couldn’t ever really die unless that part of me died too.”
“Oh,” Ginny sat on bench beside Harry and laid her head on his shoulder. He squeezed her hand so tight it should have hurt, but it didn’t.
“I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye,” he said, “I had to go right after I figured it out. I knew if I said goodbye to you or Ron or Hermione, I wouldn’t be able to go through with it.”
“I understand,” and she did. She hadn’t looked at her mother for the same reason.
“But why did you goad him like that? Why’d you risk it? It only would have taken one killing curse. It’s not like they’d send you to Azkaban for it.”
She didn’t answer at first. Instead, she closed her eyes and breathed in the smell of the green grass, the wooden bench, and Harry. Harry. Harry. Harry. Harry. All it would take is one broom ride, and she was so tired.
“I wanted to face him,” she said, “I wanted confront him and tell him what he’d done to me. I wanted him to know that he’d destroyed himself. I didn’t want your sacrifice to be for nothing. That’s why I survived, right? Because you died to protect us.”
She felt Harry nod. “You were my last thought, Ginny,” he said, “At the end.”
“I better have been.”
Harry laughed and pulled her into his arms.
Ginny never knew how long they held each other there, in silence. Time didn’t seem to exist in this in-between place. Eventually, though, Harry pulled back, smiling at her with wet eyes.
She understood, “It’s time for me to go.”
Harry nodded and kissed her, “Give my love to everyone, and tell them I’m sorry.”
Ginny wiped tears from her eyes, “I will.”
Harry glanced quickly around, “I don’t think I’m supposed to do this.”
She laughed, “Since when has that stopped you?”
He grinned, “Exactly. I’ve got a message for your Mum and Dad from mine. Tell them thank you, and tell them not to worry. They’re taking care of Fred just like your parents took care of me.”
The room was fading, and that was good. That was right, but Ginny still pulled Harry close for one last kiss.
“I love you so much.”
“Love you too,” he said. Ginny could barely see Harry now, could only make out a faint outline of him when she heard his last words.
“Fly high and give ‘em hell for me, Ginny Weasley.”
“Ginny! Ginny!” Every inch of her hurt, and the whole world was screaming.
Small, wrinkled hands were shaking her, and God how she knew those hands. Those hands had held, and fed, and cleaned, and taught, and loved her.
“Ginny!”
“Mum,” Ginny opened her eyes. Molly Weasley pulled her off the floor and into her arms.
“Ginny! Ginny!” her father’s voice rose above the rest of the cacophony, “Oh thank God,” he fell to his knees, wrapping his arms behind her until she was encased in their love. And there was Ron and Hermione and George and Percy and Bill and Charlie surrounding her like a shield.
There were others too, friends and strangers alike trying get close, to speak to or touch the Girl Who Lived. The one who did what even Harry Potter couldn’t. She could hear them, but her family didn’t budge.
She didn’t feel happy, or relieved, or peaceful. The pain was too raw, too debilitating. But she felt safe. She felt safe, and she felt loved, and that was a place to start.