Disclaimer: I'm not JK Rowling.
Ginny Weasley was absolutely lost. Yes, at first her plan had seemed brilliant! She managed to escape the watchful eye of a house full of trained, grown wizards! That was a feat worthy of the Marauders themselves, if she did say so herself. But yet, here she was, lost and alone.
Ginny quickly shook these thoughts from her head as she flew through the clouds. Now, where would Ron and Hermione go? There was a small forest beneath her, and she wondered if they could be there. Then she imagined Ron sleeping on the ground, where spiders would run free, and she almost laughed herself off of her broom. She continued to fly until she thought she heard a broomstick whizzing by.
She looked to her right and there was no one there. She looked to her left, and still, nobody was present. She shrugged her shoulders and faced forward, again until she was unceremoniously knocked off of her broomstick. She fell screaming at an alarming rate. She thought she saw someone hovering high above her, but then she knew no more.
"Arresto Momentum. What have we got Rookwood? Another mudblood?" asked Dawlish, as he lowered his wand.
"No, she looks familiar." He gazed at her red hair. "Ah! A Weasley! Arthur's daughter. Bloodtraitors, bah! Just as bad. Should we still bring her?" he spat.
Rookwood threw her over his shoulder, and mounted his broom.
…...
Ginny woke up on a dark, wet floor in a large cellar. She didn't understand where she was or what on earth was going on. The cellar had a very low ceiling and a torch on a brick wall in the back. She was definitely in the presence of some Dark Eaters. The wall must've been thin because she could hear voices above her. She continued to take a look around. There was a stale piece of bread and a glass of water a couple feet away from her. At least her kidnappers were somewhat humane.
Panic suddenly gripped Ginny. She raced towards the tiny door and pulled on the handle as hard as she could, but it wouldn't budge. She kicked it and sank to the floor, with her head in her hands.
The following days found Ginny lying on the floor staring up at the ceiling. She received stale bread and water every day, but she barely ever touched it. Her mother would be worried sick about her, and she had accomplished nothing. She still hadn't found Ron, Hermione, or Harry, and now she was stuck here, a victim herself. Gosh, she was so stupid, running away like that.
She wondered how many days had passed, and if anyone was looking for her, until one day, when the little door opened slightly and a figure was thrown in.
Ginny crawled towards the door slowly, her curiosity peeked. He wasn't very big and he was unconscious.
Her heartbeat accelerated as she got closer, for fear and excitement, a strange mix.
There was an unrecognizable familiarity to the person, who she now recognized as a boy.
A rather thin boy with dark hair, she noted.
And round glasses.
Oh no.
Ginny's chest tightened when she finally reached the body curled up on the floor.
She pushed back the hair on the boy. He had a lightning shaped scar on his forehead.
Ginevra Weasley was staring into the unconscious face of Harry Potter.
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