Yeah.

[It's softly said, looking up at the horse that towers over her because she's sitting, and not for the first time she wishes she could touch it. She thinks she'd like to try riding a horse someday solely because of the form her Patronus takes and she wonders why this is her animal, will always wonder—because her father's is a weasel and that makes sense and Harry's stag is no riddle either, but a horse... Well, someday, maybe.]

Like I said, they're meant to shield us from some pretty terrible things. They're called Dementors. I think, with the end of the war, the Ministry'll banish them from being involved again, but they're awful creatures that feed off of human happiness. Patronuses are made of everything they want but they can't hurt them. [The horse tosses its mane and looks down at Ginny as if it knows she's talking about it and she smiles.] And we don't choose the form they take, either.

[As she reaches for the horse, as if it pet it, it lowers its head to her before dissipating into silver mist under her fingertips.]

I don't know why I've got a horse.