Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I write for entertainment purposes only and not for pay.

Author's Note: Welcome back to my new story! Here's hoping you'll enjoy it as much as I do. This whole idea came from a Reddit prompt, so thank Reddit for this crazy adventure that's headed your way, and please feel free to drop a review and let me know what you think of it.

Prisoner 79934: Ginevra Weasley

-A Harry Potter Story-

By: Rae

It started as a strange feeling of cold, hardness under her cheek. She nestled into her pillow a bit more, only to feel the hardness pressing back. Shifting on her bed, she rolled onto her back, slowly noticing the coldness seeping into every part of her body. She groaned, reaching a hand up to rub her achy head.

Her mouth was dry, and she swallowed, trying to remember something. Shifting again, she stretched out her arms. They bumped into something hard and cold above her head, and the feel of cold metal shocked her into sudden remembrance. The images of the Wizengamot courtroom flooded her brain, the previous days of moving from one dank room of the Ministry of Magic into the large courtroom filled with angry faces now rolled through her brain, and Ginny's eyes snapped open.

She looked up into a gray cell. Ginny suddenly remembered the dark shapes that were her last memory, the tall, robed Dementors that glided silently into the courtroom, heading directly for her. She shuddered at the awful memories that flooded her mind before she'd passed out in horror as the skeletal fingers reached for her arms.

Shaking her head, Ginny slowly rolled onto her side and pushed into a seated position. She surveyed her surroundings and realized the horror of her fate as she did so. She was on the ground in a cell that was little larger than the Burrow's bathroom. Large enough for her to lie flat on the floor, Ginny realized she'd been left laying on the ground next to the small pallet that was to serve as her new bed. A small chamber pot stood in one corner, and next to the cell bars was a small opening where a metal cup and plate were left. She reached for the cup, desperate for something to slake her thirst, but it was empty.

Then she realized her clothes were different. Glancing down, she saw the striped uniform of the Azkaban prisoner, a too-big uniform for a 12-year-old girl, it billowed around her small form. Ginny looked at the patch on her chest and saw her assigned prisoner number printed on it: AK8902. She gulped, trying to take in deep breaths to steady herself as she felt panic rising.

She slowly stood up and traced a slow path around the cell, touching each wall and running her fingers along each bar. Ginny hummed a tune to herself, something her mother used to sing to her as a little girl before bedtime and traced another path around the cell, lost in her thoughts. She continued to do this for some unknown amount of time before she heard a sound.

Pausing in her walk, she listened to the sound of booted heels striking the concrete steel. She moved forward to the bars, craning her neck to the right to see who was coming. Ginny stared into a mostly empty hallway of gray walls, gray floors, and gray ceilings. The steps drew closer until she could suddenly see a wizard coming toward her in what appeared to be a gray prison guard uniform.

She watched curiously as the wizard drew nearer until he came up to stand opposite her, twirling his wand in his hand. He looked at her silently, and she did the same, taking in his limp dark hair, slicked down against his pale skin. His eyes were a gray-blue that looked too bright against the dark damp of the prison. His nose appeared to have been broken at some point. He pursed his pale lips together, and they formed a thin line of disgust as he surveyed her. His right hand clutched his wand then, and he stepped forward. Ginny found herself shrinking back instinctively and noticed the gleam in his eyes as she did so.

"Welcome to Azkaban Prison, Heir of Slytherin," he said, his voice deep and gravelly. Ginny flinched at the title. "They said you were just a little girl, but it was hard to believe a little girl could open Slytherin's Chamber. Yet, here you are, just a slip of a girl." He shook his head.

Ginny chanced a response. "It wasn't me," she said, meeting his eyes. "It was You Know Who. I found his diary and he was controlling me through it…" She trailed off when he rolled his eyes.

"Yar," he replied, "I read the papers. I know what you been saying to the court. Doesn' matter, does it? You're here now, and you won't be leaving anytime soon, so we might as well get acquainted."

He jerked a thumb toward himself as he said, "The name's Dirk. I'm deputy to the prison chief, and I'm the one you'll see the most in this corridor. Seems the first time we'll be using this cell since the prison was built, but the Wizengamot stated they wanted to keep you here. Some rubbish about not subjecting you to the Dementors too much because you're only a girl or something. Seems to me if you're the Heir of Slytherin, you're probably tougher than 90 percent of the other inmates in here, but, eh, what they say goes."

Ginny breathed a sigh of relief, remembering the horror of the Dementors' approach while she listened to the tumult of the courtroom, not knowing she would wake up in this awful place without a chance to say goodbye to her family.

"Now don't get too cozy," Dirk said, noticing her relief. "You don't get off Scot free after a row like that at the school. They'll still come visit you twice a week to make sure you're good and punished for your crimes. And I or one of the other guards will patrol regular like to make sure you don't try to make a runner." He snorted a laugh and said, "Not that anyone makes a runner wi' them about."

Ginny shuddered. He stood silently for a minute, looking past her and apparently lost in thought. She plucked up her courage and asked for what she was missing. "Could I get some water?" She indicated the empty cup and then said, "I'm really thirsty. And what happened to my shoes?" When he showed no indication of responding, she continued. "When do we get food? I can't remember when I ate last."

Dirk stood silently looking at her until she felt a bit uncomfortable, and then he said, "You get food and water twice a day. One jug of water in the morning and one in the evening to last you." He glanced over her body, and she felt the urge to cover up, even though the prison uniform was so big the pants fell past her feet and the arms covered her hands. "Sorry the uniform's so small. Never had a girl as little as you in here before," he said thoughtfully. "No shoes, prison rules. It's harder for people to pull a runner if they're barefoot."

Scratching his head, Dirk looked at her a moment longer and then said, "Oh yeah, I almost forgot. Your family will be here tomorrow. Prisoners get brought over quick-like to avoid any escape attempts. You'll get an hour visit wi' them, and then they'll have rights to one visit a month." Noting the disbelief on her face, he shook his head and said, "Enjoy what you got, Heir of Slytherin. I hear a bunch of people were pulling for no visitation rights, so be happy you get any."

Pushing away from the wall he'd been leaning on, Dirk said, "Welp, it's abou' time for me to head to my next patrol. Supper'll be here soon with a jug of water. Make yourself at home, Heir of Slytherin, and I'll see you soon."

With that, he traipsed back down the otherwise quiet hall, his booted feet echoing in the stark silence. She heard him go out a door before a slam told her she was alone again. Ginny sank back onto the floor and pulled her knees up. Resting her forehead on her knees, she began to sob, unable to hold back now that she was here for the long haul. Eventually she fell into a deep, exhausted sleep.