Once upon a time…
The wizarding world was ravaged by attack. The methods fouler, the curses deadlier, and the stakes higher than any war preceding it. It was said to be the war to end all wars.
Per usual man had counted his chickens before they hatched and came up with a number several figures too high.
Later in history, when students were bored to death by the trivial facts of this war by a teacher like Professor Binns, they would wonder what was the big deal. Since the Second rise of Voldemort, wars still existed, and they had only gotten worse as time and technology advanced.
But for the sake of this story we will ignore all the events in history that have happened since the war ended. After all with the knowledge, and information I now possess, I would not only give a jaded version of the story, but also quite possibly miss the important points all together.
In order for you to get an accurate perception of time, please do well to remember, we are beginning in the year 1998, at the end of my fifth year at Hogwarts. You will also come to realize that this story is told from my point of view, after all I was the only one there from the beginning.
I was the only one who understood what was going on. The only person who felt the momentous change in the Earth's spin. I recorded all the facts so someone would be able to tell the story later on, with out speculation or inferring any of the wrong facts. I understood how big this was going to be.
However, back then I was just a silly little girl, with silly big blue eyes, who kept a silly journal about her silly friend's life.
But it was a good thing I did.
The Daily Prophet became more of an obituary, than a newspaper as the war rolled on. It's stark white pages lacking the moving pictures it once held in favor of crisp black letter spelling out names and years were oddly reminiscent of their society.
Stark, bleak, and full of contrasts.
The Quibbler on the other hand was rapidly losing subscriptions. It appeared as though society favored death over the truth.
How a-typical.
I don't remember when the pessimism started; all I knew was it felt natural and the loneliness fueled it. Perhaps the sudden gaining of friends, and then loss of said friends started the catalyst. Like I said, I don't remember.
Father was upset about magazine sales and had taken to wearing a flask of gin on his hip. He may have been a great father, but he was a terrible drunk. He was not so much violent as he was weepy and sad. He cried over everything from my mother's death to a burned out light bulb.
Since a young age I've learned not to mourn spilled milk.
The school year was rapidly spiraling downward to a depressing lack-luster finale, which would carry over, into an equally depressing summer. There was nothing to look forward to anymore. War had made sure of that.
Ginny, who is actually one of the two main characters in this story, had become a serial dater amidst the confusion. Everyone deals with pain in their own ways, her ways just happened to be those of a scarlet woman. She fluttered from one boy to the next entrancing them, and then leaving them like little puppy dogs, eager to please her, eager to obey.
Her latest victim was the one and only Harry Potter, the boy who fell too hard. After the whole deal with Voldemort and Dumbledore, Merlin rest his soul, he became a piece of work.
Always mumbling about Horcruxes and sounding a bit insane. Ginny didn't do crazy.
Much to the dismay of the wizarding world, she left him on the train ride home in-between his eager planning of the final battle. He was just a little boy, and Ginny knew that.
Ginny wanted someone who would protect her above all else, and Harry put the light before her.
Ginny wanted someone who gave her a challenge and in turn challenged her; Harry was merely obedient.
Ginny wanted something better than Harry Potter.
Leaving the compartment that day, was one of the best and worst things that ever happened to her. Among her brother's bellows of treason she had finally figured out what she wanted.
The only cost was her purity.
So she closed the door and never looked back to see a shell-shocked Hermione, a red faced Ron, or a gaping Harry. Rather instead she made her way down the train, to the last compartment, which held Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle
Sitting down there she said the words that change her life.
"Hello, I'm Ginerva."
Thus began her descent into darkness.
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