Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I write for entertainment purposes only and not for pay.
Author'sNote: Here we are again with the next installment of this story for your reading pleasure! I so enjoy hearing from those of you who review and appreciate you! Thank you for reading my little fic, and I hope you'll continue enjoying it. I've got about 23 chapters written so far, and at the point I'm at in the writing, things have gotten exciting. I realize this story moves slowly, but that's something I tend to enjoy reading and writing, so that's why we aren't jumping straight into the action portion of the story. I do hope the slow build will allow for a more satisfying payoff when we get there. Anyway, enough blabbing from me. Here's your next chapter!
Prisoner 79934 - Ginevra Weasley
- A Harry Potter Story -
By: Rae
In the days following her family's second visit, Ginny began to doubt whether her family, Harry, and Dumbledore could get her out of Azkaban. If they did, she realized, it wouldn't be nearly as soon as she'd tentatively hoped for. That thought alone was enough to paralyze her into a deep depression that began to consume her time.
Considering she was locked up, all she had was time. And that was why she found herself finally in conversations with the hag behind the wall.
Ginny had decided not to engage her, but as her thoughts drifted from hopefulness into some place just shy of dread, her perspective began to change. It started one day after a visit with the Dementors brought up another unpleasant memory she'd mostly forgotten. It only took the hag's speculative voice to remind her what she'd been rambling about during her torment to get the wheels turning in her head.
"You rambled again," the grating voice said with a dry laugh. Ginny flinched from the place she'd been curled up in her pallet. She hadn't moved since the Dementors left, and she wasn't certain, but it must have been an entire night that passed between then and now since Dirk had dropped off a plate of food.
"It sounds like you were talking about that fool Lockhart," the woman continued in a sarcastic voice. "I wonder what awful memories you have of him."
Ginny blinked at that, trying not to think about what the woman was saying.
"But I wonder…" she trailed off, her voice speculative. She continued a moment later in a sing-song voice, "Whatever could Lucius Malfoy and Gilderoy Lockhart have to do with each other? Hm?" She snickered and raked a nail along the floor, making Ginny cringe.
The question, however, lodged in her brain, and she sat up to think about it. Perhaps a few minutes went by, perhaps an hour before she suddenly said, "Flourish and Blotts!"
"What?" The hag asked, her voice now genuinely curious.
Ginny wracked her brain as she dredged up the memory that the Dementors had teased from her. "It was that day in Flourish and Blotts when we saw Mr. Malfoy and his git son Draco," she said, more to herself. "But why would that memory come up with the Dementors?"
"What happened at Flourish and Blotts?" The other woman asked softly, an edge to her voice now that Ginny couldn't quite understand.
She thought back. "We were there to pick up our school books, and Mum was mad for Lockhart," she said. "He was there that day to sign books. We stood in line absolute ages to get his stupid books." She paused and remembered the scene as it played out in her mind. "When we were leaving, Draco showed up and started making fun of me and Ron, and then his dad showed up. He…" She trailed off for a minute in thought.
"What, girl? What?" The hag asked impatiently. "Did he curse you?"
"What? No," she said, brow furrowing in surprise. "He grabbed the books out of my cauldron and made fun of them for being so old and tattered. I mean, my parents do what they can, but-" She stopped again, wondering why she felt the need to defend her family in Azkaban of all places.
The other woman tutted irritably. "Lucius Malfoy," she groused, and Ginny perked her ear to hear what she had to say. "How ever did he escape this place? Malfoy money," she said.
"My father always said he claimed the Imperius curse," Ginny said, remembering many rants Molly had made against the Malfoys specifically.
"Imperius curse?" The woman cackled gleefully. "And the Ministry actually bought that? Of course they did. The fools." Her laughter flowed over Ginny and gave her goosebumps as it continued for several long minutes.
When the laughter subsided, the hag behind the wall made a comment that stuck with Ginny for a while. "You might want to think more about what you think happened with Lucius Malfoy, girl," she said. "He's as slippery as a snake, that one, and that's why the Dark Lord trusted him." She harrumphed. "Too much trust, I always said, but Cissa… well, she was smitten." She snorted. Seeming to come back to the present, she addressed Ginny again. "Lucius Malfoy isn't the one who wants to keep you in here, is he? Maybe he has a reason for that."
Then she lapsed into silence, leaving Ginny to her suddenly uncomfortable thoughts.
She replayed the day in the bookstore in her head, remembering her awful crush on Harry and how nervous she was about going shopping with him. She thought about how jealous she'd been of Hermione for being best friends with him. Hermione was nice enough, of course, and she was never rude to Ginny, but her closeness to Harry always made Ginny wonder if she had a crush on Harry, too.
She'd been watching how Harry and Hermione interacted that day and hadn't paid much attention to anything else until Draco appeared and began harassing them. His father, however, was someone who instantly intimidated her. The way he'd looked at her made her skin crawl, and when he'd grabbed her books, Ginny recoiled from fear. She'd never seen someone look at her with such cruel, cold eyes before.
The way he'd addressed her father had her hero image of her father crumble a bit. She'd always idolized her father, who treated her as if she was a precious gift. He'd doted on her and treated her differently from the boys, and she grew up thinking Arthur could take on anything. When Lucius Malfoy dismissed him as an ineffectual, poor Ministry worker, Ginny realized that the world she grew up in might not be what she thought it was.
Ginny was pulled from her thoughts when the hag behind the wall began dragging her nails back and forth. Clenching her teeth, she decided to ask a question and try to get her to stop the incessant noise that was driving her crazy.
"What's your name?"
The scratching stopped. Ginny listened closely.
"Why do you want to know?" The woman asked, a hint of humor in her voice.
"Because you're the only person I have to talk to in here," Ginny replied.
"Not good enough," she said matter of factly and returned to her scratching.
Gritting her teeth, Ginny asked something else that had been on her mind. "Were you one of You Know Who's followers?" She held her breath this time as the scratching stopped.
"Was I?" She asked back softly. Ginny felt the hairs on the back of her neck raise a bit. "Was I?" She repeated a bit louder. "I never abandoned him! Unlike those faithless wretches. Those fools. Like Lucius Malfoy," she spat in a dangerous hiss. "I would never betray my Lord. Ever!"
Confirming what Ginny had suspected, she continued to rant on. "When he disappeared, we determined to find out what the Order had done to him," she growled. "We went to the house and cursed them when they resisted us." A sinister laugh filled the air, and she said, "They lost their minds."
Ginny swallowed hard, not sure she wanted to hear anymore of her companion's story. "Why did you follow him?" She asked, just to change the topic.
A short silence followed, broken by the sound of nails tapping the floor now. At least it wasn't the incessant scratching she'd grown used to.
"He called to me," she said in an almost dreamy voice. "He called to me and made me feel something I never felt before." She paused and then said, "When he spoke, it was pure magic. You knew his dreams were going to be reality. And you loved him for it."
Ginny marveled over this. From everything she'd heard about Lord Voldemort, no one ever spoke about him in such reverent tones. Her parents spoke about him as if he was only able to rally people through fear and malice. Every book mentioned the torture, deaths, and horrible campaigns his Death Eaters subjected the wizarding world to. None of them was very kind to him.
"He was so handsome," the hag now said. "When he talked, people listened. We knew what he wanted and we wanted the same thing."
"But don't you hate Muggleborns?" Ginny asked, voicing something she had always been taught.
"Of course," she said simply. Ginny drew in a breath. "Muggleborns are a drain on magic, don't you know? They pull from the magical core what should belong to purebloods alone." Pausing, she added, "Halfbloods as well, since they generally come from long pureblood backgrounds." Now she addressed Ginny, "Don't you believe Muggleborns are dangerous, little Weasley? Your magical heritage is at stake with their very existence."
Ginny wrinkled her nose at the moniker but thought about what the hag behind the wall was asking. "I don't know what you mean," she finally admitted.
"You wouldn't, would you?" Her companion remarked snidely. "The Weasleys always were a stain on any house they joined. Always too soft," she sneered. "Did you know you're related to some of the most ancient pureblood families, little Weasley?" Her voice dripped sarcasm. "It's distant, of course, but it's there. Why, I'd wager you're even related to the great and noble house of Black." She cackled at this.
Ginny thought back to what her great aunt Muriel had once told her. "All the pureblood families are interrelated," she said. "The Weasleys have ties to all the other families and vice versa."
"Very good," she said snarkily. "The first year knows a few things. Now do you know that most pureblood families have only retained their magic through marriage?"
"What?"
"It's true," she replied. "The only way to ensure a magical child is to marry another witch or wizard. Traditionally marriages were arranged for both magical and monetary benefit." Her voice took on a serious tone. "If you were betrothed from a young age, you knew your children would be guaranteed to have magic. But if you marry a Muggleborn, you have no such guarantee. My Lord knew this, and this is why he tried to stop the Muggleborn infestation of our ranks." On that last note, her voice turned venomous, and she gave a vicious scratch against the floor.
"Why do you do that?" Ginny asked, shuddering from the sound that grated on her nerves.
"What? This?" A long scratching sound grated along the floors. She cackled. "Don't worry, ickle firstie. You'll be doing it too before long." She gave another scrape of her nails. "They'll be too long for you, and you'll find yourself scratching to get them down to size. You should start now before they're too long to bite them off." Her laughter rang out through the cells, and the scratching continued.
The conversation over for now, Ginny clamped her hands to her ears and curled up on her pallet, trying to drown out the awful sound.
