I own nothing, it all belongs to Rowling.
Chapter 1
Prologue: The Dream
Ginny Weasley is a quirky person, to say the least. She is average height, thin, and pretty healthy. Her hair is a deep red that you only got with a coloring potion and it falls in thick curly waves down her back. She has bright green eyes, a fair, clear complexion, and a normally chipper air about herself. She does well in all her classes, and she loves animals. We call her quirky, yes, but not without reason.
While at first glance she seems very average, time tells a different story. Every single Weasley in existence has bright, carrot orange hair. But Ginny Weasley does not. All Weasley's have bright blue eyes. But Ginny doesn't. Ginny's parents, brothers, cousins, aunts, uncles and grandparents are covered in freckles. Ginny, however, isn't.
Besides the physical differences between her and every other member of her family, Ginny…is just off. She is a quiet, delicate person who always has a glow about her. She doesn't speak that often, but when she does, it's like she's reading your mind. She's never taken off guard by anything either. Ginny is always one step away from getting hit with a snowball, or getting rain splashed on her. She never trips, stumbles, or falls.
You see, we call her quirky, but not without reason.
Ginny loves animals. A lot of people do. Ginny has a butterfly aquarium in her room, where she cultivates them like rare plants. She doesn't have to work very hard at it, and when she tries to release them, they never seem to want to fly away. She has a pet cat named General Whiskers. We don't know why she calls it that, but to each their own we suppose. Ginny cares deeply for everyone and everything. Once when she was five, her mother found her outside cradling a dead blue jay with a broken neck. Her mother tried to take the bird from her but she wouldn't let it go. She just cried and shut her eyes tightly. Trying to calm her, her mother ran inside to get a box to bury it in. When she came back out Ginny was sitting there laughing with a singing blue jay perched on her knee. Ginny went back to playing with her toys, and her mother never mentioned it.
So we call Ginny quirky, but with good reason.
Cold was all she knew. It made her body tremble as she ran. It whipped her face and stung her eyes. *a loud crash behind her* She jumped and her heart dropped like an anvil in her chest.
Fear cut through her like a butcher knife. She ran, but from what, or whom, she didn't know. There was only one clear distinct thought in her mind.
Run as fast and as far as she could. Left, right, right, left, twisting, turning; no matter which way she turned, no matter where she hid, it found her. It always found her.
Finding a small alcove to her right, she threw herself into it. She pressed as flat as she could against the grimy stone wall. Closing her eyes tightly, she winced at the way her ragged breath echoed off the high ceilings. She counted to ten and inching slowly to the edge, peaked around the corner.
A movement in the shadows made her jump. She whirled around and pressed her back into the wall as hard as she could. Silently she cursed herself as she realized her only escape was back out into the main corridor.
A distinct *chink* against stone rang through the air. A tiny whimper escaped her clinched lips.
Cold surrounded her as thick sweat trickled over her brow like fat raindrops. She went over the choices in her mind. Run or stay? Staying would be suicide, but so would running. Praying that the years she spent around the Quidditch pitch weren't lost, she took a deep, cold breath.
Fear coursed through her veins and fed her aching legs. Twisting, turning, left, right, down the stairs, thunderous pounds echoed off the walls in pursuit behind her.
Run was the only thought in her mind. She turned her head quickly to look behind her.
Pain echoed through her body as she slammed shoulder first into a very hard, very solid something. A bone-splitting crunch pierced the air and she dropped to the floor like a rag doll. She clutched her throbbing shoulder as her eyes locked on to a pair of something black, worn, and very familiar.
'Shite'
Cold Fear Ran through her as her eyes slowly traveled up.
"'Ello, love."
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