There's Something About Ginny

As Ginny kept silent for them, the Order worked late into the night as they attempted to gather information on the young woman whom they all loved. Harry returned to the Burrow, laced with guilt. He was certain that it was because of him that she was captured. He had tried to warn her when he got the intelligence report, yet he had arrived too late. Classes at Hogwarts were temporarily suspended and many students returned home or to white beds at St. Mungo's, all still in shock from the deaths of Hannah Abbott and Eleanor Ferth.

Oblivious to the world outside, Ginny lay huddled on a hard bed in a different chamber she had been taken to, this one more suitable for habitation. Half-conscious most of the time, the only thing she remembered from the past few hours was terrible pain and everything going black, only to awake to see Voldemort, or thus the figure appeared under half-shut lids and blurry vision. She had blissfully lost conscious again, only to awake on a bed that, though plain, was heavenly compared to a stone floor. Slightly raising her head and relieved to see her hands unbound, Ginny could see another door on a wall besides the large, heavy one which obviously led to the hallway. The window in this room, she could tell, was the same as before - yet it was obviously more of a prison than a torture chamber.

Yet before her curiosity could get the best of her, Ginny's head began to spin again and she painfully resumed lying face down, her back too wounded to place pressure against. Yet again, she vanished into the realm of unconsciousness.

She awoke several hours later, strong enough this time to get up. Too tired to think much, she simply approached the door, checking to see whether the hopes that she had entertained were commensurate with reality. Opening the door, she could see that they were. A plain grey ceramic bath was at one side of her, at her other a lavatory, sink, and full length mirror. It was all dreary, yet Ginny was delighted. Filling the bath with water - cold - Ginny removed her torn emerald dress, peering at her blood-caked, wounded back. What have they done to me? she thought in horror, wincing in pain. The effects of the Cruciatus curse lingered, she could tell. But Ginevra stopped herself before she could assess the situation and think about the future - she was in desperate need of a bath.

The witch flinched as she stepped into the freezing water, yet as the cold passed over her whole body the numbness was welcome. Gently cleansing the wounds she could reach by hand, Ginny stepped at last out of the now red-colored water, shivering and blue, though feeling much more refreshed than before. Putting on her ripped, blood-covered dress, Ginny hobbled over to her bed, gently brushing and braiding her hair with her trembling fingers. It was only when she had finished taking care of herself that she let herself break down and sob, scared, in pain, and alone.

What was going to happen to her? Where was the Order? Those were only two of the many questions haunting her mind and not giving her rest. Lucius mentioned something about a ceremony, she recalled... she shuddered as she contemplated just what it could include, and placed her head in her hands as she remembered yet another thing that he had told her: "... Voldemort will use you, for the ceremony and your abilities, forever trapped, never free..." Did nothing await her but torture and imprisonment?

Taking deep breaths to calm down, Ginny reminded herself that the Order would never abandon her, and that all she had to do was survive until they came. With that hopeful thought in mind, she heard her stomach churn in hunger, and it was only then that she noticed a tray of moldy bread, water and gruel besides the main door. Though tentative at first, she took a few first bites, and once satisfied that it was not immediately fatal she ravenously ate it all.

Her hunger and thirst sated, the exhausted red haired witch was about to return to the bed, when the mahogany door burst open. Lucius, a look of pain and anger upon his face, entered the room with Macnair behind him.

"I see you're awake, Miss Weasley," Lucius spat.

Shaking, Ginny was despaired. Surely not again! She thought. And so soon? Preparing herself for the worst and knowing what answer to expect, Ginny resumed her defiant self and, in a trembling voice, asked: "What do you want?" Lucius's reply was surprising, brusque and mysteriously amused.

"It's time."

Before she could even contemplate its meaning, Ginny's arms were seized from behind her by McNair and Lucius, the tall man's hand making sure to strongly touch her wounded back as he fiercely held her arm, making Ginevra cry out in pain.

Struggling despite the pain, she was dragged through a dark, torch-filled corridor, till they reached a damp, steep staircase. Ginny, too weak and pained to continue fighting, hobbled between the two death eaters as they slowly descended it for what seemed like an eternity, going lower and lower into the darkness, their only source of light being ominous torches that refused to expel warmth.

At long last, they reached a small chamber, lit only by a fire in its center above which bubbled an immense cauldron. The fire illuminated a half-circle of death eaters around it, at their center Voldemort. Ginny, eyes wide open in fear, glanced around the room instinctively for an exit, though finding naught else but grotesque paintings upon the walls. Ginny felt her breath quicken as she struggled to remain calm - was this the ceremony that Lucius had referred to? Taking a deep breath, she walked with Lucius and McNair towards the half-circle, where she was thrown unceremoniously to their other side, facing the cauldron and the Death Eaters with the wall right behind her, upon it a painting of a screaming man with a snake coiled around his body.

Ginny was too petrified to do anything but kneel on the floor, the only thing between herself and Voldemort being the cauldron and Wormtail at the side of it, in his hand a wooden spoon with which he slowly stirred the maroon potion.

The potion gave off a slight shimmer, and was apparently cold, despite the fire beneath it, for ice was slowly forming along the edges of the cauldron.

Ginny shivered.

Voldemort removed his eyes from the simmering cauldron, smiling a diabolical smile at Ginevra. "Let us begin," he simply said.

Ginny, a premonition of horror overtaking her, stumbled to her feet and slowly walked backwards, trying to get as far away from Voldemort as possible.

Yet as Ginny felt her head connect with the cold wall, she knew that it was hopeless.

She was trapped.