Author's Note: I was inspired somewhat by numerous Dark Harry stories, except I couldn't help but think that maybe it was time someone decided to try out Dark Ginny instead. Hence this story. I hope y'all like it.

Disclaimer: Ginny Weasley, Harry Potter, and any other characters that you may recognize belong entirely to J.K. Rowling.

...

Ch.1: Miss Ginevra Riddle

The shiny necklace glimmered a beautiful silver and green, winking eagerly at a six-year-old Ginny from the forest floor. It was very, very pretty.

Her family had taken a vacation to Albania, and they were listening to a person talk about trees. She had gotten bored and wandered off, probably to some place she wasn't supposed to be. That was when she found the necklace.

Her mother had told her not to touch strange things, but Ginny had never seen anything so beautiful. Beautiful things cost too much. After a moment's hesitation, she picked up the pretty pendant.

A low hiss filled the air. Ginny turned to see a big snake looking at her. It appeared to have been there the whole time.

"My master is sick," the snake said. "Can you help him?"

She dropped the necklace in surprise. The snake hissed something else, but she couldn't understand it.

"Er. That didn't make sense," she said, feeling foolish. Then the snake nudged the necklace. Ginny's eyes widened in realization. Of course. She picked it up.

"My master?" the snake pressed. "He is very ill."

"My mother won't be very happy if I run off," she said sadly. It was a pity. Ginny liked the snake. It had friendly eyes. "I'm sorry."

The snake shook its head in a funny snake kind of way. "Your mother has six other children with her," said the snake. "My master has no one. Please. Help him. No one will notice if you go missing."

It was right, she supposed. The only girl, the littlest one, not important enough to note. Besides, it sounded as though the snake's master was in big trouble. She could find her way back to her mother eventually.

Ginny nodded her head. "Okay, Miss Snake," she said. "Tell me what I need to do."

"Put on the necklace," said the snake.

She listened. The pendant landed with a thud against her chest. Warmth spread through her entire body, and a man appeared in front of her. He was as tall as the mountains, with a shock of dark hair, and eyes like black holes.

He was beautiful.

"You're an angel," she said. She reached out to touch him, but he moved out of the way.

"I'm only in your head," he said. His voice was music. "You can't touch me, but I do need your help. Please, come with me."

A warm fuzzy feeling settled in Ginny's stomach, and even though she didn't know the man, she felt so perfectly at ease that following the beautiful man was really her only option.

"Okay," she said. And she went with him, the necklace thudding against her chest as she walked. Someone started calling her name, but the man told her to run. So she ran.

They went a very long way and crawled through a lot of dirty places. Ginny should have been tired, but she wasn't. After a very, very long time, they arrived at a small shack. The necklace started burning, but she did not take it off.

The man asked for strange things, and she did them with an unnatural fervor. The snake, whom the man called Nagini, killed a goat. She took the goat's blood and put it in a pot. The man led her to a cabinet and told her to grab a vial of glowing silver blood. She put that in the pot, too.

After a while, she started becoming unsure of what she was doing. Putting a squirmy little bundle in the blood. Saying strange words. Then, even more numbly, lifting a knife. Slicing into her arm. Letting blood drip into the mixture.

Things started getting darker. The man wanted her to hurry. She said something to the necklace, and it opened. A deep-gray eye blinked at her through green smoke. It was the man's. As the smoke floated out, the eye grew darker. Then it disappeared.

Everything became cloudy. Words floated to her, spoken in a syrupy-smooth voice. "You have done well. Now sleep, my child."

And she did.

When Ginny opened her eyes, the man was sitting across from her. He reached out and touched her cheek. His hands were cold.

"Where's my daddy?" she asked in a small voice. He smiled.

"I am your father now. You are obedient, and I can feel very strong magic in you. Your future with me will be great. Do you understand?"

He was pretty, and smiling, and she still thought he looked like an angel.

Ginny nodded vigorously. The necklace was warm around her neck.

"Yes, I understand."

"Good," he said. "We will stay here for a few days while I regain my strength, and then I shall pick up where I left off."

That sounded good, and he seemed to know what he was doing, so Ginny nodded once more. Then he started talking to Nagini about things Ginny did not understand, so she went off to a corner and began playing with her necklace.

For a short time, Ginny worried that her parents would be looking for her, but then the man went to her and gave her a shiny blue potion.

"It will make you feel better," he said.

Ginny drank it and fell right asleep. She dreamt of the man.

When she woke up, the young child remembered nothing of her past.

xxx

Bella grabbed Ginny's arm and gripped hard enough to make the redheaded girl drop her wand. With a low grunt, Ginny elbowed Bella in the stomach, loosening the older woman's grasp and allowing herself to break free. In a series of moves almost too swift to be seen, she lowered herself to the ground, kicked Bella's feet out from beneath her, and easily grabbed the wand from her loosened grip.

Ginny stood above her aunt, wand held out, Slytherin pendant burning against her chest, cheeks red from exertion. "You lose," said Ginny. "Again."

With most, the fearsome Death Eater would have simply killed whomever dared beat her. It was different with Ginny. A smile found its way onto the dark-haired woman's face. There was little shame in getting beat by Lord Voldemort's daughter. Even the male Death Eaters cringed away from dueling her.

"That was a wonderful showing, my lady," said Bella as she pulled herself to her feet. She bowed her head in a show of respect. "As always."

Ginny did not acknowledge the statement. Bella's praise was always forthcoming and therefore meaningless. "I should not have let you get my wand away from me," she said coolly. "If I were going against someone stronger than myself, that mistake could have been fatal."

"No one would have thought to use that move if they were fighting you for the first time," Bella assured her. "I succeeded only because I know you so well. And remember, you would have had your knives if you were on a mission. Albus Dumbledore himself would have trouble making that mistake fatal."

Perhaps her words were true. In such a close-distance fight, wands and fists both lost out to any kind of sharp object. The mistake ate at Ginny anyway. She hated not being perfect.

"I suppose," Ginny said resignedly. She wiped the sweat off of her face with a thick black towel, then tossed it back onto the floor. "Again. I want to make sure that I can get it right this time."

A tangle of hair was falling from Bella's hastily made plait, her face was slick with sweat, and exhaustion was evident in her stance. That had already been their fourth fight, and Ginny knew her surrogate aunt was not put through a fraction of the physical training that she was. Would five be too many? It wouldn't be a challenge, that was for sure.

Yet, Ginny needed to perfect her moves. If Bella was tired, then so be it. It was her job to do whatever it took to ensure the happiness of Lord Voldemort's daughter.

"Very well then," said Bella. Not a single complaint. She knew bad things would happen if she dared to question Ginny's orders.

The two of them approached the middle of the mat. Ginny's bare feet felt sticky on the sweat-covered surface. They were just about to bow to each other when the door creaked open and the two women froze. Peter Pettigrew scampered into the room.

"Your father would like to speak to you," the rat said, his voice high and dreadfully squeaky.

Ginny sighed. Messages to speak with the dark lord were not uncommon. Most likely he wished to send her on a mission. That meant he desired her immediate presence. Without a word to Bella or Pettigrew, she brushed past him and out the door.

Her father was waiting in his library when she arrived. He looked like a classic painting with his sharp, Grecian features, skin the color of marble, and eyes that appeared to be thousands of miles deep. His tall figure seemed slightly too large for the leather chair in which he sat, and his too-long fingers tapped his knee rhythmically.

Lord Voldemort was clearly agitated, but a smile managed its way onto his lips when she entered the room. Ginny sauntered over to his chair and kissed him once on each cheek, then stepped back and bowed her head respectfully. "You needed me, Father?"

The pleased smirk that had crossed his face at Ginny's entrance disappeared as he began speaking in a low, business-like voice.

"I know of a location where the group of defected Death Eaters that Rabastan ratted out last month may be hiding. There should be only three. I trust that you will be able to handle them."

Without comment, Ginny looked into his eyes and threw herself into his mind. Only a few thoughts were left unguarded, but they were the ones she needed. It took seconds to pinpoint the location of the hideout and determine the less than considerable talents possessed by the three defected men. When she pulled back out, her lips were twisted into a smirk.

"I will not disappoint you," said Ginny smoothly. Pleasure flitted across Lord Voldemort's face.

"Very good, young one. Be safe."

Then Ginny turned on her heel and briskly made her way to her private quarters. With smooth, practiced movements, she changed into her usual dark robes, dragon-hide boots, and old, banged-up Death Eater mask. It was the same thing that all Death Eaters wore, so as not to draw unwanted attention to herself.

Deftly, she tucked Salazar Slytherin's pendant into her shirt, then unceremoniously turned and apparated away. She appeared in a maze of abandoned warehouses, straightened her robes, and used her highly attuned sense of direction to guide her towards the old building that she had seen in her father's mind.

It was not long before the air began buzzing with magic. If Ginny closed her eyes, she could feel the wards surrounding one particular area. There weren't many. An anti-apparation spell, one to keep out intruders, and another that was supposed to cause forgetfulness. If a weak-minded person were to wander too close, they would forget their reason for approaching the building. Suffice to say, the dark lord's daughter was not weak-minded.

Ginny did not have to think long about her course of action. The anti-apparation wards were stupid. Perhaps they kept enemies out, but they also would not allow for a quick escape, the exact reason she did not allow her father to place them around her room. With a small smirk, Ginny flicked her wand, sending a steady stream of flame at the building. The old, rotted wood caught fire instantly.

It was comical, how quickly the men came running out. One. Two. Three. None with wands raised, all of them humiliatingly unprepared. When they saw Ginny, they froze. Of course, to them, she was just a Death Eater. But when you had turned away from Lord Voldemort, seeing a Death Eater wasn't any less dangerous then seeing the Dark Lord's arson-inclined daughter.

"Avada Kedavra," Ginny said, taking out one man. The others tried to run. She sniped one of them down as he was fleeing, then managed to catch the last around the waist with a long rope of fire. He screamed in agony as she pulled him back towards her before finishing him off with the killing curse. All of the kills were clean and efficient as possible.

With one more glance at the three bodies, Ginevra Riddle spun on her heel and apparated away.

xxx

Albus Dumbledore sat in his old desk chair, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. Over the course of the past year, a disturbing pattern of deaths had been forming. Eighteen Death Eaters, Order members, and prominent Muggleborns were found dead. Very few showed signs of struggle.

The most concerning constant was the never-failing presence of fire. Even if the victims hadn't been killed by fire, there was always evidence of flames nearby. Burnt buildings. Traces of ash. Non-lethal burns on their skin.

It was clear that the killer was working for Lord Voldemort. The few Death Eaters who were murdered were found to have recently displeased or betrayed their master, and the other sets of victims were all blatantly working against him.

What confused Albus was that the deaths all seemed linked to a single killer. The consistency of the kills and complete lack of evidence could only have been accomplished through a single murderer, and very few witches and wizards would have talent enough to kill so many powerful people so cleanly, especially considering that most of the bodies had been found in groups.

Several options had run through his head. Rabastan Lestrange was very talented, although not nearly as neat as the assassin proved to be. Lucius Malfoy would have had the efficiency and precision, but not the talent. Then there was Voldemort himself, whom was even more unlikely. The Dark Lord, as Albus knew, would not delegate himself to servant's work when he had his Death Eaters.

For a very long time, this question had stumped him.

Then Mad-Eye had given him a very, very interesting piece of evidence.

The old man held the strand of red hair in front of his face, studying it closely enough to make himself go cross-eyed. He had already put it through a DNA potion, so there was no doubt as to whom the hair belonged. He just did not know how to explain it, nor what he was going to tell Molly and Arthur.

"Perhaps if we find the girl soon," he murmured to himself, "she can still be saved."

But if she proved to be as evasive as she had been, Ginevra Molly Weasley was going to be quite difficult to catch.

…

Molly Weasley was scrambling to finish the apple tart she had been making for supper that evening when someone knocked loudly on the door. The red-haired witch quickly dusted the flour off her hands and looked towards the entryway with a sigh. It was Tuesday, and Luna Lovegood had no doubt come over with ballyroots or wallywarts or something of the sort.

With a small smile, as Molly did enjoy the Lovegood girl's company, the Weasley Matron bustled over to the door, passing an enchanted clock on her way there. Glancing over, as she always did, she was not surprised to see that Ginevra's hand was still fixed on 'Location Unknown'.

She quickly moved past the clock and opened the door, only to step back in surprise when she saw Albus standing in front of her.

"Albus," Molly said happily. "What a pleasant surprise. I…" She trailed off when she saw the look on his face. The usual twinkle in his bright blue eyes had faded completely, and the dark circles under his eyes suggested a sleepless night. Suddenly, her blood felt like ice. "W-what happened?"

"Everyone is safe," Albus assured her. "I simply have some… surprising news that may not be entirely wanted. Is Arthur home? He will want to hear this."

"Yes, he is," Molly said, just as her husband curiously poked his head out of the living room to see what was going on. Whatever he was going to say died in his throat when he saw the somber-looking Dumbledore standing in the doorway.

"Good," said Albus. "Now, I hate to invite myself in, but…"

"Oh, yes," said Molly hastily. She stepped back and waved an arm, gesturing for the Headmaster to enter. The old man followed her into the small living area and took a seat on a worn couch. "Can I get you any tea? Biscuits?"

"No, no. Thank you. What I have to discuss with you is far more important. In fact, I believe that it may come as a bit of a shock…"

"What is it, Albus?" prodded Arthur.

There was a moment of silence in which Albus appeared to be collecting his thoughts. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small plastic baggy. Upon closer inspection, Molly realized that there was a scarlet hair in it.

"You are both familiar with Voldemort's assassin?" he asked. They nodded, even as their attention was completely focused on the hair, which so obviously belonged to a Weasley. "Only yesterday, the killer took out three recently defected Death Eaters. When investigating the crime scene, Alastor managed to procure this. At first I believed it belonged to Bill, as he had been working the case. Then I put it in a DNA potion."

"And?" prodded Molly breathlessly. She was still hovering awkwardly around Albus's chair, unsure of what to do with herself. That hair… it looked almost exactly like hers when she was younger, before red had begun to dull to gray. If she didn't know any better…

"The hair belongs to Ginevra Weasley. Molly, Arthur... Your daughter is alive."

Molly abruptly fainted.

xxx

Well... this is my first ever fanfiction, so I'm super nervous about what everyone is going to think about it. I know it's a bit different, but I would love even just a little feedback, so I know whether or not this is worth continuing, or if something's confusing, or whatever... so please review, and I'll do another chapter if people seem to like it.

Thanks for reading.