18Ginny was changing. She was turning back into something horrible – Anna, but not Anna. Her hair was white blonde, but her eyes were bright red – and they were nothing but slits. And she was on the ground, slowly pushing herself to her feet.
And Harry pointed the wand desperately, not sure whether to shoot something deathly or not, because this thing was still Ginny, deep deep down.
But the thing was lifting itself up on her arms, and pushing herself to her feet, and then she was up, and she was lifting her eyes and arms to the sky –
And she gave a fierce, guttural, soul-shaking cry that made Harry's heart leap into his throat. He pointed the wand, but couldn't bring himself to shoot.
"What are you?" he cried.
And the thing turned itself towards Harry. The red slits looked at him, and Harry gritted his teeth.
"I am Voldemort," it said; its voice was Voldemort's, that familiar dark hiss. "The horcrux inside Ginny has taken shape."
"Horcrux?" Of course, he should have known…
"Die for the last time, Potter."
"Not on my watch," said Harry. "Stupefy."
The creature crossed its arms, and the spell rebounded naturally, as if it was nothing but a fly. Harry shook his head, and sent off half a dozen more stunners. The creature deflected them easily. It stepped closer and closer as Harry desperately shot off every spell he could think of – the creature deflected them, Harry stumbled backwards as he fired spells –
His feet were caught around something. With one quick movement, he bent down and picked up his cloak, still firing spells desperately.
With the other hand he swept the cloak around him and disappeared into thin air.
The Anna-crossed-with-Voldemort continued to deflect the spells, but stopped advancing; its head searched left and right for Harry, clearly confused. Harry kept stumbling backwards, his hand waving his wand, mouthing spells silently, trying desperately to find a spell that would hurt the thing –
Suddenly he tripped backwards, and caught himself, his feet tangled in each other – he gave a cry of alarm, despite himself – and the creature was there in front of him, and Anna's cold hands pushed him backwards, hard, and he was down on his back, his arm behind him, something digging into his flesh. It was the Stone. He tried to grasp it in his fingers, tried to pull it out from under him…
But the creature was on top of him now, the glowing red slits causing shivers to run up and down his spine. The cold hands were pressing into his chest; Harry felt a flash of immense, incredible pain throughout his whole body, and then numbness – his soul was being sucked out of his body.
Through half closed eyes, he could see it leaving him – he struggled with all his might to hold on, but he couldn't, he couldn't –
With one last effort, he pulled out the stone from under him and held it out to his side.
He closed his eyes, and with the last of his strength -
He lifted both invisible arms in the air; the wand in one, the stone in the other.
He didn't know how he knew what to say, but he said it nonetheless.
"Expelliarmus!"
There was a great flash of light, and a huge explosion.
For the first time, the Hallows had been used together.
/
I bend over Ginny's shaking body. But it is not Ginny I am here for – oh no.
Intertwined in her rich red soul is an old, wizened black one.
Her horcrux, given to her unwillingly in the Chamber of Secrets, all those years ago.
I pick up the fragment of Voldemort's soul. It is heavy with the consequences of its actions.
I carry it gently away.
/
A stone lay on the ground. Except it wasn't a stone; it was shattered into broken pieces, black smoke rising out of its ruin.
A wand lay on the ground. Except it wasn't a wand; it was snapped in two, whisps of silver still spluttering out the ends.
A cloak lay on the ground. Except it wasn't a cloak; it was pieces of material, torn desperately into shreds, lying a pile of grey.
Ginny lay on the ground. She was gasping for breath, and tears were soaking out of her eyes. Blood was soaking into the ground beneath her.
Harry was at her side in an instant; his hands shaking desperately. He pulled her shirt up, and there was the wound, seeping blood from her stomach. Grasping at the shreds of material that had used to be his cloak, he pressed it on the wound.
He didn't really know what he was doing, but he was sure that he had read somewhere that you were meant to stop the bleeding; press down hard. Ginny was shaking; the blood had drained from her face and she was as white as a sheet. He pushed her hair out of her face, seized her hand, squeezing it. "Ginny!" he cried. "Can you hear me? He's gone, he's dead, he's dead, it's okay, you can rest now –"
Ginny gasped desperately, and coughed, her broken body seizing up with the effort.
Blood leaked out of the corner of her mouth. Her frightened eyes looked around desperately, not seeing Harry.
Her soul had held on for too long.
Suddenly, Harry saw her eyes lock onto something behind him. They widened, and her mouth upturned into a small smile.
"It's you," she said.
"Pardon?" Harry turned quickly to look behind him, where she was looking – but there was nothing but shadows in the dark night. "Who are you talking to?"
"It's Death."
/
I meet Ginevra Weasley for the third time in a familiar clearing the Forbidden Forest.
Only this time, she is dying.
On the ground next to her – a broken wand, a shattered stone, and a boy, desperately pushing scraps of a torn cloak into her wound.
It is my wand, my stone, my cloak.
"How are you?" I say.
"Never better," she says. Then she bursts into a fit of coughing. Blood trickles down her face.
"Who are you talking to?" cries the boy. "What's going on?"
"Death," says Ginny. "He is here."
Then she looks at me, her eyes desperate. "Please, I brought you… the Hallows… Please take them … Spare us … spare him."
I look at the two of them – the boy, clearly scared out of his mind, clutching desperately onto Ginevra's hand and brushing her hair, willing her to live. Ginevra, dying, pleading for the boy's life.
Humans never cease to surprise me.
I bow my head, and glide over to the Hallows. I pick them up. Hold them in my hands.
They are my Hallows indeed.
"They were never meant to be used together," I say. "Their individual power destroys each other. It does not work."
"I noticed," says Ginny.
"I shall take the Hallows," I say.
At last, they are mine again. At last, they shall not be tampered with by humans – at last, I do not have to pick up after my mess, at last I don't have to always have them edging at the corner of my mind. Perhaps it is for the best that they are broken; never again can they be used to create dead things. Never again will humans use them for their own ill gain –
"Well?"
Ginny has interrupted my thoughts. I gaze down at her; at this dying human who insists on bargaining with the last of her strength.
I do not want to do this, but rules are rules. Bargains are bargains.
My name is Death, and I do not break promises.
I bow my head.
"I will spare your lives. You have kept your end of the bargain, and I will keep mine, Ginevra Weasley."
Ginny closes her eyes.
"Thank you," she whispers.
It is time for me to leave; I can feel it. Other souls are calling me. But, strangely, I don't want to leave. It is … strangely peaceful here. Here, in the middle of the Forbidden Forest.
I hover. "I hope you have a good evening, Ginevra."
She coughs, and raises her eyebrows at me. "It's only up from here."
I can't help it – I smile. I will miss this soul – this fiery soul, and our scattered meetings. There is no one on this earth quite like Ginevra Weasley.
"I suppose I will say my farewell. I wish you a speedy recovery."
I turn. I stride towards the edge of the clearing. In the shadows, I pull out the List.
It's time to go to the next human, and –
Oh dear.
I should have guessed.
How – humanlike of me.
I turn, back towards the clearing.
The List calls, and I cannot stand breaking the rules.
/
"He's gone," said Ginny, her eyes squeezing tight – and her body racked with another fit of coughing.
Harry glanced behind him again – there was nothing there. Fear clutched at his soul. He wished he had paid more attention during the healing sessions at Auror training.
He gently pushed the hair out of her face, tucking it softly behind her ears. "It's going to be okay, Ginny. Whatever you saw – it's not there anymore. It's gone."
Ginny was shaking, coughing. The blood was trailing out of her mouth.
"Come on Gin, hang in there for me. Please, Gin. Please."
Three more coughs, and a great shudder - and suddenly, she stopped coughing – and her eyes found Harry's desperate ones.
"thank you," she whispered, so low that Harry had to lean in close to hear her.
"You don't have to say thank you," sobbed Harry. Tears streamed down his face. It wasn't fair. "You never have to say thank you. I didn't do anything."
"Look after them all." Ginny's voice shook with effort.
"I won't let you do that, I won't let you do that. Come on Gin. Hold in there. The people – they're coming, they'll be here soon."
"Harry." And Ginny's eyes were open, and she looked into his eyes, desperately holding on. The fierce fire and the blazing look was gone.
There was only a small, frightened girl.
And then – she stopped.
"No," said Harry. "No, no, no, no." And he felt frantically for a pulse, but there wasn't one; he pushed the hair out of her face and desperately shook her shoulders, but she fell heavily into his arms.
The fire had gone out.
She couldn't be dead, she couldn't be dead, she wasn't dead, she wasn't dead, surely she wasn't dead, she couldn't be dead –
Harry leant down and gently kissed Ginny's lips.
They were still warm.
/
The List doesn't give the cause of death. It makes my job interesting; getting to guess what the problem was.
For Ginny – maybe it is her fatal wound, draining her of blood. Maybe it is a broken heart, as she learned how she had killed her friends and fought her family. Maybe it is Voldemort's soul, intertwined with hers for so long, draining her of the little fight she had left.
Either way, her Time has come.
Her soul is full of fire – but it is small. It is oh so small.
It is incredibly strong, but it is small.
I pick her up – cradle her gently in my arms.
What a wonderful soul.
I carry her softly away.
/
Harry got up slowly. His legs were surprising solid. They shouldn't be, he thought vaguely.
Moonlight danced on the edges of his shoulders. He turned away from Ginny's corpse, and looked up at the sky; the moon was a glowing circle in the black.
A star shot across the sky, leaving sparks in its wake. Harry closed his eyes and made a wish.
Please can morning come.
Because maybe when morning came, this would all be over. Maybe all of this would be lost in the blackness of the night.
He opened his eyes –
And nothing had changed.
Harry smiled a little; despair filled his bones.
And he turned homewards, and began to walk.
/
Well, that's it guys! Thanks so much for all your love and support on this long journey. I started planning this story way back in may 2017, and finished it just a few days before 2019 began. It's been by far the most challenging, angsty, ridiculous thing I've ever created, but it's been an adventure – and I'm so so blessed by all of the love you've shown it 3
Thanks for dealing with my sporadic uploads and for letting me get out all that angst! I love you all!
Blessings, cassie xx