Unofficial Portkey Archive

Disclaimer: most of the characters don't belong me; they belong to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Books, Warner Brothers, and various other people. I'm merely borrowing them for my and other people's enjoyment, and am making NO profit off of it.

Author's Note: I'm so sorry that it took so long! Christmastime was surprisingly busy for me, and then I just kept forgetting. Anyway, here's Chapter 8. We're almost there! Just three chapters left. Expect them to be posted soon.

I hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas, or whatever holiday you celebrate, and that everyone has a great New Year's.

Chapter Eight

I'm not sure how long it was before I regained consciousness again. The first thing I did, after making sure that I had no broken bones or missing limbs, was to look around at my environment. I was in a very small cell, probably eight feet by six feet. The walls and floor were made of stone, and a wooden slab jutted out of one of the walls. A musty, moth-eaten blanket lay on the slab. There was a small hole in the corner of the room opposite the wooden slab, which I assumed was for urinary purposes. Where the twelve-foot walls met ceiling, a small rectangle had been cut so that air could come in. I stood up on the wooden slab and tried to see out of the window. Craning my neck this way and that, trying to see beyond the cell; I couldn't. Sighing, I sat back down on the "bed." I sat there, wondering what had happened to Draco and whether or not I'd get out of this alive. Just as I was starting to worry, the door opened. I jumped up and automatically reached into my pocket for my wand, which was, obviously, not there.

"The master wants see you now, blood traitor," said the person. She lit her wand with a soft "Lumos!" and I could see her properly. She was tall with long honey blonde hair and brown eyes. She was the only pretty Death Eater that I had seen, aside from old pictures of Bellatrix Lestrange. I recognized her voice as the one that had spoken on the Knight Bus.

"And what if I won't see him now?" I asked, standing definitely, although kicking myself for acting so stupidly brave when I was unarmed. Her lips spread into a smile that was anything but friendly.

"Crucio," she whispered. I knew what was coming, but I was still unprepared, just as a rabbit who knows that he's going to be eaten but doesn't fully realize it until he is. It felt as if though long daggers were being plunged into my body repeatedly. My insides were on fire and I couldn't breathe. All at once, it stopped. "You will see him," she said simply before binding me with ropes and levitating me in front of her range of sight. Since I didn't have to concentrate on keeping up with her, I took a look at my surroundings. The passage we were traveling through looked much like the ones in the Hogwarts dungeons. The walls, floor, and ceiling were composed of stone. Lit torches were scattered throughout the halls and there were heavy wooden doors every few feet. We went up stairs, turned right, went up more stairs, another right, up more stairs, turned left, and after that, I lost track. After a long period of time, during which I concentrated on not thinking about my family, we arrived at a door at the end of a staircase. The female Death Eater opened the door and we stepped into a plain entrance hall. The walls and ceiling were stone, but the floor was wooden. Tapestries of bloody battles covered the walls that would make anyone shiver in horror. This was definitely not a place I wanted to be at. I bit back a sigh as we continued on our way up more stairs and hallways. We stopped in front of large ornate doors that were decorated with snakes, after what seemed like hours. It's just like Voldemort to be so gaudy, I thought with bitter amusement.

The Death Eater knocked three times on the door and opened it. The first thing I noticed about the room was that it was just as ornate as the door had been. Thick green carpeting was on the floor, and the walls were decorated with many portraits of men with long pointy noses and women with disdainful looks on their faces. A single chair was in front of the fireplace, its back to the doorway. I could see the body of a man, but not the face. I didn't need to see his face to know that it was Voldemort. Tom had returned to me. Those long white fingers, so like a surgeon or pianist's, curled around the arms of the chair as he pushed himself out of the chair, rising as gracefully as a feline.

"Little Ginny, we meet again," he spoke in his terrible, high-pitched voice, eerily silky. He turned to the Death Eater. "Leave us," he said coldly.

"Yes, my Lord," she murmured as she bowed low, and left the room. Once the door was shut, Tom took three steps towards me.

"Little Ginny, how much you've changed. And yet, you haven't changed a bit," he said softly. Soon he was in front of me. He reached out a pale hand and stroked my cheek with the back of his hand. I fought back a flinch as his fingers snapped and the floating incantation was lifted. My legs, not ready to support me, folded and I landed on the ground. He looked down his nose and at me.

"What do you want with me?" I asked, my voice cracking more than I had hoped for it to. His face twisted into a look of immense pleasure.

"Stand up, Little Ginny," he said in that same soft voice. My body followed his orders against my will. His hand found its way back to my cheek. I did not flinch this time. My mind was clouding up, and I was finding it hard to remember that he was bad.

"What do you want with me?" I asked again, forcing myself to speak. His grin, so full of malice, widened slowly. He placed his mouth near my ear, and this time I couldn't suppress my shudder.

"I want you to join me, Little Ginny. Think of all the power you'll have once we win the war," he whispered. "I want you to get the dragons to join me." The word dragon triggered something in me. I thought of Goldenwing, and how much I loved her. Would Voldemort really win the war? Should I join to ensure the safety of Goldenwing? I opened my mouth to tell him that I would join him, my mind getting cloudier and cloudier by the moment, when someone knocked on the door, bringing me out of my trance. I jerked away from him as he looked up sharply at the person who entered the room.

"My lord-" the person began, but Voldemort sent a Killing Curse their way, and we would never know what they wanted to report.

"We'll continue this later," Voldemort hissed, turning back to me. He pressed a wand to my forehead, and said "Stupefy," and the world went black.

***

I wasn't sure how long I had been out when I woke up later, but it definitely felt like it had been hours. I was back in my cell and a plate of food was lying in the middle of the room on the floor. The food was colorless, and lumpy. My stomach lurched at the thought of having to eat it. Seems to me, if they really wanted to get me on their side, they would be treating me like royalty, I thought bitterly. I sighed and picked the plate up and tasted one bite gingerly. The back of my mind was screaming that I shouldn't be eating anything that Voldemort gave me, but deep inside, I knew that he wouldn't kill me. No, he needed me too much to kill me. At least not yet.

I later realized, as my eyelids grew heavy and my mind grew dim, that it had been laced with a sleeping potion. I yawned and lay on my so-called bed to sleep.

The grass was greener than I had ever seen it, and the sky was the most brilliant shade of blue. The breeze was warm and the sun was light. Everywhere around me, people were laughing with each other, generally having a good time. When I looked closer, I realized that I was back at Hydes. Charlie was with Malia under a beech tree, both enjoying the other's company. Most of the Quidditch playing Council members were playing a game of Quidditch. Rafael and Wyman were tossing a Frisbee back and forth. I frowned, looking at them. There was something very odd about it, but I couldn't put my finger on it. I shrugged and turned my gaze towards the paddock. Draco and Lacey were standing with their dragons and Goldenwing. They were smiling at me and waving me towards them. I hurried over to where they were standing and took my place next to Draco. He slipped his arm around my waist.

"Okay, bitch, here's what you get for refusing our Lord," he snarled and pulled a long machete out of nowhere. The blade made contact with Goldenwing's neck, and the whole world around me seemed to collapse. There was darkness once more.

When I woke up again, my heart was racing and I was drenched in cold sweat. I couldn't get the image of Goldenwing, with a machete buried deep in her neck out of my mind.

Goldenwing, can you hear me? Are you out there? I called out in my mind, trying to reach my dragon. Only silence greeted me. Tears threatened to spill down my cheeks, but I refused to let them. I would not let Voldemort see that he had gotten to me. I knew the dream was just a dream, but I had no doubt that if he could, Voldemort would kill Goldenwing if I refused to join him. The door opened once more, bringing me out of my thoughts.

The man that stepped into the room was short and balding with small, watery eyes. I recognized him at once as Peter Pettigrew.

"Hello, Scabbers," I said maliciously to the man. He glared at me, and pointed at the plate with his silver hand. A jet of red light shot out of his finger and the plate disappeared. "Ooooo, such pretty magic! Amuse me with more!" I said sarcastically. He smirked, and I knew I'd made a mistake.

"Crucio! " The pain, so much like knives, returned once more, but in more abundance than when the woman had cast it. Apparently Peter wanted to hurt me more than the woman did. When I thought I was going to die from the curse, or at least go insane like the Longbottoms, he lifted the curse. "Do not tempt me, girl. Only the Dark Lord's need for you keeps me from killing you," he hissed and left the room before I had a chance to retort. Gingerly, I got up from where I had fallen on the ground and curled up on my bed. The full impact of what could happen to me hit me. I could die from all of this. The tears, which I had been unconsciously fighting, fell at last.