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

Author's Note: I have finally written to the point where my favorite characters have managed their big breakout, and I can't wait to get to that chapter for posting. But for now, I'm looking forward to your thoughts as you read this fun chapter and the coming ones. And, yes, for those who have asked, Sirius is coming into the story very, very soon! Let me know your thoughts in a review and enjoy this chapter!

Prisoner 79934: Ginevra Weasley

By: Rae

- A Harry Potter Story -

It was coming up on the time when Ginny expected another visit from her family, though she wasn't as excited about this visit. She figured with any luck they might have some kind of good news but wasn't getting her hopes up. Dirk brought her breakfast that morning, and Ginny stared at it uncomprehending. Instead of the usual murky mush, it was an actual breakfast.

"What's this?" She asked dumbly, but the guard was preoccupied with something or other and just walked briskly down the hall. She heard the door clang shut behind him and looked down at the food before her.

She had an actual egg on a plate with a piece of mostly burnt toast next to it. Beside it sat a lump of something that might have been sausage in a former life if it hadn't been charred almost to a crisp. She picked up the fork on the plate and pushed at the egg hesitantly, uncertain whether it was a trick. Stabbing it, she lifted it to her mouth and took a bite.

It tasted like heaven.

Shoveling the food into her mouth, Ginny cleaned her plate in less time than ever before. She was reminded of Hermione's rants about Ron's demolishing of the meals at Hogwarts as she considered how fast she'd scarfed down her food. The thought of Hogwarts' feasts made her still empty belly rumble, but the food was all gone.

In a half hour, the plate and fork vanished from her cell, the work of house elves, she knew. Ginny had wondered how on earth house elves became slaves of Azkaban, but the more she thought about it, the more she decided she didn't want to know.

As the day wore on, Ginny noticed something. By this time normally, she and Lucretia would be locked into some kind of training, whether a lesson on curses or a discussion of dark arts that Lucretia deemed to teach her. This morning, however, Lucretia had said nary a word.

Ginny crept over to the hole in the wall and chanced a conversation with the dangerous witch. "Lucretia?" She asked hesitantly. "Is everything okay?"

She waited, but she heard nothing. Not even the typical scratching at the stone floors. Ginny slid back over to her pallet, pondering this.

A little while later, she heard the unmistakable sound of someone in the hall behind hers. The clipped sound of booted feet on the stone rang out, and Lucretia made a sudden screech that caused Ginny to lurch upright.

"On three," a guard's voice rang out. "One." Lucretia screamed like a lunatic, and Ginny heard her moving in the cell rapidly. "Two." Now she began to scream curses at the men. "Three!"

Ginny heard multiple voices calling out the same spell. "Silencio!" The spell instantly silenced her companion, and Ginny felt anger welling up in her at the woman's helplessness. She wanted to rush out of the cell and attack the men who'd done this to Lucretia for no apparent reason. Looking at the bars of her cell, however, Ginny sank back down onto her pallet wearily. There would be no leaving or helping her tutor.

"This oughta work," the first guard now said. "He demanded we make it more stable. Think this is stable enough for him after what happened last time?" The others chuckled.

"You be a good witch, now," another voice said as the booted feet began to move away from the cell. "It's only until he's gone, and then you'll get your voice back and you can curse us all you want." He laughed loudly as he joined the other guards.

Silence reigned in the cell. Ginny allowed it to envelop her until she noticed something strange about the silence. It was such a deep, penetrating silence that she listened very hard for a moment. Still nothing. There were no screams, no moans, no screeches of voices in the distant bowels of Azkaban. A chill crept down her spine, but even that was lessened by the slight warmth in the air. Ginny opened her mouth thoughtfully and then snapped it closed, not sure she wanted to break the stillness that had swept into the prison.

Ginny sat still and waited, mind dwelling on the more recent hexes she'd studied. Lucretia was an unusual teacher. She would give Ginny the incantation and have her say it multiple times while listening to Ginny's pronunciation. Any time she got a word or phrase wrong, Lucretia would scratch her nails ominously on the floor until she corrected herself. Asking for help was considered taboo in Lucretia's world, and Ginny quickly learned that questions earned biting remarks about her intelligence.

She was in the middle of silently mouthing the incantation for the Stinging Hex when she heard it. There was a sound of booted feet crossing a stone floor in the distant silence, and then the click of the door to her hall opening. She held her breath as she heard feet approaching her, somehow knowing this must be the reason for the strange nature of the day.

She scooted to the back of her cell, unsure of what was headed her way, pressing her back against the wall, she watched.

Dirk came into view first, accompanied by two other guards. Following them was none other than the Minister of Magic himself, Cornelius Fudge. Another man accompanied him wearing deep purple robes, and Ginny wasn't sure who or what he was as his hood was pulled up.

The Minister, however, was much more loud in peacock blue robes and wizard's hat. He wore dark slacks and a white shirt underneath his open robes, and Ginny gaped at him, having not seen him since he handed down her sentence in the Ministry of Magic's underground courts. She quickly closed her mouth with a snap when he surveyed her living quarters and pegged her with a supercilious stare.

"This is where you keep her?" He asked, addressing Dirk.

"Yes sir, it is," he replied softly, nodding at the Minister.

"And are the orders being followed as usual?" He inquired next.

"Same as what were handed down, sir," he said. "One visit per month, Dementors in ter see 'er once a week, no other outside contact for the first six months."

The Minister nodded shortly and looked at Ginny with an inquisitive gaze. "Well then," he said, glancing down at a bit of parchment she hadn't noticed him carrying, "yes, Ginerva, right, let's see-"

"It's Ginevra," she corrected flatly, and he paused to glare at her.

"Yes, well, Ginevra," he continued, "I'm here, as you might already know, on my annual visit to Azkaban to check in on the facilities." He gave her a sour smile, already looking put out at having his time taken up with such a task.

"No, sir, I didn't know that," she responded when it seemed he wanted a reply.

His mouth opened and shut for a second as he considered what to say. "Either way," he said with a forced smile, "I'm here now to make sure that everything is shipshape. Now then," he said, glancing at his parchment, "I know you are new to Azkaban, so I need to ask if you are being treated well. No mistreatment is permitted at Azkaban, as you well know, so please tell me if you notice any mistreatment of yourself or other prisoners." He appeared to be reading off the parchment, and his voice was more or less monotone through the statement.

Ginny suppressed a sudden urge to roll her eyes. "As you can see, sir," she said, glancing around in an exaggerated manner, "I doubt I could tell you if other prisoners are being mistreated." He glared at her, but she said, "And since you don't think subjecting prisoners to Dementors is a bad thing, I doubt anything anyone does to me here would be considered mistreatment."

Minister Fudge stared at her with a speculative gaze that made her feel slightly disgusted. She wished she could get away from his appraisal, but there was nowhere to turn.

"Miss Weasley," he said silkily, "you may feel that Dementors are a form of mistreatment, but consider the crime for which you are imprisoned." He held up a hand when she went to argue the point. "Not only yourself but the many, many supporters of He Who Must Not Be Named that are in here. Some crimes deserve more punishment than others, Miss Weasley."

"And you consider torture fair punishment?" She spat out bitterly, her mind filling with the images the Dementors had teased out of her.

Cornelius Fudge shrugged his pudgy shoulders, before saying, "Perhaps we should change the subject, hmm?" He asked. "I have some news that might interest you and was hoping to deliver it to you myself before you hear it from your parents."

Ginny arched a brow, curious in spite of herself. He stayed silent, eyeing her and waiting for a response. The silence stretched out for a few moments and was only broken when one of the guards shuffled his feet awkwardly.

"Are you aware, Miss Weasley, that the Ministry of Magic holds an annual lottery each summer for its employees?" She nodded, vaguely remembering that her father entered each year. "It would appear your parents got lucky this year," Fudge said simply, giving her another sour smile when he saw her understanding. "It's a shame they've spent it all on that rotten Putterglen. If he thinks filing injunctions against the Court will slow down the decisions made on your case, well, I'm afraid he's got another thing coming." Fudge smirked at her now. "I'm afraid the Wizengamot will be turning in a verdict soon on Dumbledore's suppression tactics and get your expulsion confirmed."

Ginny couldn't breathe. The Minister was puffed up with triumph and looked down on her as if she were something disgusting under his shoe.

"Very soon, Miss Weasley, you will find there's very little reason for you to return to normal Wizarding society," he said with a cruel twist to his lips that made her stomach turn. "But for now, I must move on."

"Wait, how did you know that about my parents?" She asked, suddenly desperate for more information.

"Ah, it was in today's Daily Prophet," he replied absently, already turning away from her cell. "I'd give you the paper, but I'm afraid another prisoner requested it first." With another sour smile, he said, "Good day, Miss Weasley. See you next year."

Then the Minister and his entourage made their way out of the hall and off to the next portion of his inspection.

Ginny sat in a stunned silence for several hours, only moving out of her stupor when her dinner arrived. It was another tasteless bowl of mush.

When the cold came back into the prison, she knew the Minister must be gone.