Ginny Weasley starts to judge everything by one standard.
“Could this be the worst thing that’s ever happened in my life?”
And the answer, of course, is always no.
Could going on a date be the worst thing ever in her life? Could she survive?
Of course. She picked up a journal once. It couldn’t be worse than that decision. And she survived that.
Could joining a secret underground army to defend against the rising evil be the worst decision ever? Would it kill her?
Of course not. She once wrote in her diary that she was in love with Harry Potter. It had responded with a dozen innocuous questions.
That had been far more dangerous than learning how to defend herself.
Could running away from school with a group of friends into unknown territory and no plan to fight the most feared wizard of her time kill her?
Yes. But he’d already tried once and she’d be damned if he ever succeeded. She knew what she was doing now. She was trained.
Once she’d tried to face him by herself, and he’d already had half her soul by then. This was nothing compared to that.
Could fighting in the final battle of a war that had waged since before she was born kill her? Would it be the worst decision she could make?
It would almost definitely kill her, but she couldn’t think of a better decision. This mattered. This was important.
She almost died once. Once, when the most important thing in her world was a boy she loved and a diary that understood her, she’d almost died just to be accepted.
This was far more important than that.
And so Ginny learns anything is possible if you have enough nerve.
She just hopes no one ever asks her where hers comes from.
(via lupinatic)
