In the end, there is fog and embers. Screams of pain, wailing sobs, quiet murmuring of prayers, and a still silence all fight for possession of the air around them all. Ginny can’t understand how there can be so much happening all at once and wonders if maybe she’s been hit with a stunning charm without realizing it. How else can there be screams yet also silence? It’s hard to see anything, just shapes and movement of shadows within the blanket of fog that has settled on the moors, and the smell of burning wood, of burning flesh, is so thick that her eyes burn and it’s difficult to breathe.
This isn’t what she expected. Hermione warned her, quietly whispered the night before that she needed to be prepared for the worst, but Ginny clung to the foolish belief that it would just…end. The fighting would be over and things could return to normal again. Instead, the fighting lasts most of the day, with curses and hexes being shot all over the place, until the sky becomes a patchwork of green, orange, and red against the pale blue above. Even after murmurs of Voldemort’s death reach her area, the fighting doesn’t stop. If anything, it becomes worse as the Death Eaters realize they’re truly battling for freedom and their lives.
She keeps walking through the fog, stumbling over bodies and blinking back tears as she searches for her family, for her friends, for Harry. Neville is injured and holding Luna, who would look pale and ethereal if not for the blood covering the front of her robes. Ginny wants to stop, to find out if she’s alive, but she doesn’t dare because she’s not sure she could continue walking if she knew her best friend was dead. There’s a familiar voice in the distance, a sobbing cry of a name Arthur, that nearly brings her to her knees as her mum’s grief joins the other noise before Ginny tries to focus on the silence: sweet silence that won’t weigh her down and stop her search.
An arm moves around her and holds tight as Ron whispers her name in a prayer of his own, relief evident in each syllable of her name that he seems to drag out until it’s endless. She hears herself ask about the others, mumbling into the front of his robe, which smells of smoke and blood above the comforting scent of Ron. Bill and Fred are okay, Charlie’s injured but alive, and the fact he doesn’t mention George makes her close her eyes and bite her lip hard enough to make them bleed.
Ron lets go and she watches him hobble off, favoring his left leg and holding his right arm against him. It's twisted into an angle that she’s never seen before, but he keeps walking, head held high as he calls out Hermione’s name, a desperate tone underlying his bravery. He disappears into the fog, and Ginny has to fight the urge to call him back, to not let him go for fear she’ll never find him again. Instead, she wipes the back of her hand over her eyes, not caring that she’s left a streak of mud on her face, and keeps walking. Her throat is sore, mouth dry, and she can’t find the strength to call out for Harry, so she keeps walking.
Someone asks her if she’s seen Ron, and she looks up to see Hermione scanning the fog as if she can see through it. Her hair is wild around her face, which is slick with sweat and covered with dirt and a streak of blood across her forehead from a deep cut. There’s a bad burn on her left forearm, visible through charred robes, but she either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. For a moment, Ginny is taken aback, feeling as if she’s looking at a warrior Goddess out of one of her father’s Muggle mythology books, but then Hermione looks at her, and she sees the fear and worry as she again asks about Ron. A warrior, yes, but she’s also human, like the rest of them. Ginny nods, croaking out that he’s alive, and pointing towards where he went searching for Hermione. She’s hugged tightly as Hermione shudders with relief before she stumbles into the fog to find Ron.
The fog becomes smoke as she moves closer to where the fires are burning. She coughs and covers her mouth with the sleeve of her robe to help keep from inhaling the smoke. There are even more bodies here, some alive and others dead. The ones who are just injured moan and cry out; some reach for her and grab her legs as she steps over them. She can’t help them, even though she wishes she could, so she keeps looking for Harry. She has to find him, has to know.
When she finally sees him, it’s through the heavy smoke, and she’s not sure he’s really there. Fire is burning behind him, and he’s looking around as if he’s caught in a daze. His glasses are broken and hanging from his left ear, and his robes are torn and dirty just like Hermione’s, just like Ron’s, just like her own. As she gets closer, she can see cuts and scratches on his face and neck. Before she can call out his name, he turns his head and looks right at her. They stand there for what feels like hours but is surely more like seconds, and then she's walking towards him, meeting him halfway.
In the end, there is fog and embers. There is also Harry’s embrace and his chapped lips pressed against her neck as he holds her tight. They fall to the ground, sitting on damp grass as the fire burns and their world grows silent save for Harry’s murmuring I did it. He’s dead. It’s over. mantra that repeats itself against her neck as he trembles and hugs her. Ginny holds him and kisses him and cries for everything they lost and for everything they still have. The fog finally begins to lift as the sun begins to set. It‘s finally over, and they’re still alive.
End
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