Warning: MAJOR DH SPOILERS!!! DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVEN'T FINISHED THE BOOK AND YOU DON'T LIKE TO BE SPOILED!!!
Disclaimer for ENTIRE fic: I own nothing of Harry Potter, that all belongs to JKR and WB, so don't sue me, I have nothing you would want.
The Final Battle: Ginny's POV
Chapter One: Unbridled Memories
"It'll all be okay."
Ginny Weasley walked numbly from the young girl she had been comforting until Oliver Wood came to take her to the great hall, where Madam Pomfrey and some volunteers were looking after the seriously wounded. As she headed to the next of the fallen, hard as she tried to block it out, the scene that she had left in the great hall kept playing before her eyes. Every time she closed them, if only to blink, she kept seeing Fred's body. In her mind's eye she watched her mother laying over it, sobbing hysterically, while George sat still and silent and Fred's head, absent-mindedly running his hand through Fred's hair. This was over one thousand times worse to witness than her mother's anguish, because you could see so clearly in his eyes that he had lost half of himself in that battle, and that the half that remained would never be the same. Memories of all the times Fred and George had made her laugh, had tried to make her feel better, and had gotten into trouble roamed wildly and unbridled through her head.
She really had never really even considered either Fred of George dying. She had always thought that it would be more probable for her parents, Bill, Charlie, Ron, or even herself to die, but never really the twins. And now one of them was gone. In a way, it was worse than them both dyeing, because now the one left behind would feel alone, empty, and broken, as it he was missing his other half. Ginny forced herself to push those thoughts aside and turn her attention to the wounded man at her feet. He was covered in minor burns and cuts, on which she swabbed dittany, and moved on.
As Ginny headed toward her next charge, her mind wandered unwillingly to Harry. Where was he? He had not been in the Great Hall, although she was sure that she had seen him with Ron and Hermione in the entrance way before they headed over to the rest of the family. She then thought of the high, cold voice that had wafted into the castle and choked out all other noise. It had said that if Harry were to meet Voldemort in the Forbidden Forest in an hour's time, no one else would be harmed. She hoped sincerely with all of her heart that Harry had not gone to the Forest, for it was surely death that awaited him there. Though, as much as she hoped and prayed that it was not true, part of her knew that it was almost certainly was. Harry was not the kind to let other people die for him, not one to let the ones he loved suffer. It was one of the things that she loved most about him, his insufferable nobility, the trait that had landed him in so many dangerous situations, had had caused him much pain and suffering, the trait that had made him fall head over heels in love with him. Still running this thought through her mind, she mended a young woman's leg and started off to look for another patient. She spotted a man probably in his mid-twenties clutching his ankle and headed toward him. She never reached him.