The matter did not sit well with Ginny. Her insecurities and fears poked and made fun of her as she lay under the moonlight's gaze that night. It was only natural she showed up in the basement of their home in bed hair and night robes.

Her father was working on his magic, trying to polish his wand. "The more clean your wand is, the better you yield magic," her father spoke, somehow sensing her presence. "It has been quite a long time since I practiced magic. Ever since the Order disbanded before Bill was born, no one has had any need to. His Majesty has always made sure of his countrymen getting all the essentials without toil and, I must say, we have depended on him for far too long to count. It is only fair I - we - return the favour."

Ginny approached him cautiously. "Why can't I go instead, Dad?"

Arthur never took his eyes off his work as he spoke, "Girls are only allowed on the defensive frontier when it comes to war, Ginny. People believe that they defend better than men do, although it is not necessarily true. I don't believe it, yes, but that doesn't mean I wish for you to go in my stead."

Ginny's mind reeled into thoughts. She found the entire separation as an illogical explanation for discrimination based on gender. Even if her father did not necessarily share the same ideals as those of the world, it was still considered as a fact.

"But why?"

The old man smiled in response, the corners of his eyes wrinkling at the amount of curiosity his daughter showed. "Because offense is required more than defense on a battle field. Attacks fly from all directions and it is therefore not possible to be well-armed to defend all the frontiers.

"Offense, on the other hand, gives you the upper hand should you be agile; not to mention the thrill that comes along with casting offensive spells.

"I'm sure you know that, Ginny, seeing as you watch your brothers practice magic." Arthur took his eyes off his wand, looking at Ginny with sparkling blue orbs that clearly showed wisdom that Ginny thought he lacked. Setting aside the now polished piece of wood, he stood up to cleanse his hands.

Ginny's eyes followed her father as he retrieved something from the long rack beside the sink. He walked back to the table, an oak box juggled in his hand. He cautiously placed it in front of Ginny and motioned for her to open it.

Though Ginny already knew what was inside it, the curiosity of feeling its aura after a long time of not being in touch with magic was too much to ignore. She opened the box.

Sitting inside, stuffed secured within the velvet texture, was her wand. Yew and unyielding, it listened to naught but her inner soul. The first time she received it from Ollivander, the wand maker down the street, she had made her house play a beautiful melody. How she had done it, no one had any idea. Not even their teacher, Flitwick.

"Strange, isn't it?" Arthur spoke in a voice very unlike his own. He was now standing right by her side, looking over her shoulder at the piece of magical wood in her hand. "Each person has a wand suited to her that remains silent as long as she isn't nearby. Otherwise, its aura is almost irresistible to the person."

"You are — right, Dad. . ." Ginny whispered, running her finger along the well-maintained yew of her wand. A strange sense of adventure and mystery called to her, the core of her magic beating in pulses within the mortal frame of her body. The wand just seemed to egg her on. An incomplete idea seemed to form in her mind, her wand reflecting her thoughts within her eyes.

Later that night, as she stood in front of the mirror, her hair now chopped off for a much tidier, boyish look, the purpose of her life seemed to flash in front of her browns: fighting for those she loved.

—xoxo—

The Weasleys woke up early in the morning to the startling disappearance of the youngest weasel cub in their family. Although, for the most part, Molly and the Weasley brothers were mad at Ginny for leaving them behind, there were mixed feelings of pride and disappointment present within their unrest minds.

"I really hope she gets back alive because when she does, I'm going to kill her!" Ron exclaimed, more out of worry than anger.

"Oh dear, I thought you locked the basement yesterday," Molly fussed.

"I actually did," Arthur responded. He really had no idea she knew spells to open locks and sneak into important rooms. Perhaps he had to have a talk with Flitwick about the syllabus taught to seventeen-year-old girls.

"How'd she get in and find the exact case that contained her wand, then? As far as I remember, you never let us see where you keep our wands, dad!" Bill protested.

"I'm the least worried about how she snuck in," Fred said, sourly.

"Then what are you worried about?"

"We are more worried about surpassing us in sneaking into places." George's reply was greeted with laughter. It was only the matriarch who reprimanded the use of jokes at tense times like this.

Bill cleared his throat to say his suggestion. "Jokes apart, Ginny probably went by foot unless she caught a carriage to the training grounds. Maybe if we could rent a horse, we'd be able to catch her before she reaches."

Arthur simply laughed and when questioned about his surprisingly good mood and an inclination to decline Bill's idea, he shrugged it off, saying that it was going to be fine. He knew it would be. After all, it was his daughter who had gone into battle. His fierce princess knew how to handle magic more than any of his sons.

However, deep down Arthur was scared. Scared for the life of his daughter. . .

The story starts now. What do y'all think of it?

Oh, and there's another point here in case you're a judge/reviewer. Cutting of hair symbolizes a fresh start. To Ginny, leaving her home behind to join an army is a new beginning. I've always idealized this point, even in my life. So, I thought to include it here.

Thank you for reading!

Miyoko x