Shadows

Chapter Nine: Circles

"Powerful enough to start feeding Miss Weasley a few of my secrets, to start pouring a little of my soul back into her..."

Tom Riddle, Chamber of Secrets

-

Three days later, Harry sat in the kitchen of the Burrow, pushing a slice of banana around his oatmeal with a spoon. His attention was focused outside, where Ginny flew in small circles on her broom. Mrs. Weasley had decided to let her out into the yard but no further. For the last three days Ginny had been making those little circles...from sunrise to sundown, barely taking the time to eat or bathe. For the last three days she'd worn a pair of pajama pants that Hermione had given her two years ago, a black pair with little white and pink clouds on them. She wore the muggle tshirts Luna gave her that had been decorated to keep some mythical magical creature or other away.

It was obvious Ginny was depressed. Not taking care of herself made it very clear. But the constant circles were just...a little...

Crazy.

And nothing Harry did could help. He'd gotten on his broom and followed her, offered a game of Quidditch, tried talking to her...nothing. She barely even looked at him.

What was going on? What was wrong with Ginny? Maybe the shock of Fred's death was just hitting her...or how dysfunctional her family suddenly was...maybe he should take her on vacation.

"The Chamber of Secrets..." he muttered to himself before taking a bite of the cold oatmeal. That was another mystery. Why the sudden interest in what had happened all those years ago? And who was it she muttered to in her room late at night?

What if she was crazy? What would they do?

Harry set down his spoon. This was all too confusing. It was time he talked to someone about his concerns – he needed help.

-

She knew she was a mess.

Tom Riddle's soul is inside me...

Her hair was in tangled knots, her skin was paler than ever. She barely ate or bathed, or did anything at all. All she could do was sit on her broom and spin those circles in the frigid air, again and again and again. She couldn't even think right.

Tom Riddle's soul is inside me, Tom Riddle's soul is inside me, Tom Riddle's soul is inside me...

She had never gotten a confirmation from him, but his silence was confirmation enough. He hadn't spoken since those words – 'You can't be rid of me, Ginny darling'.

It was all connecting now.

Tom Riddle's soul is inside me, Tom Riddle's soul is inside me...

When she'd written in the diary, she was pouring her soul into him. When he'd shared his secrets with her, he'd poured some of his soul into her. When Lord Voldemort died, part of him was still alive. They hadn't killed the part of him trapped inside her.

Tom Riddle's soul is inside me...

If it was just part of his soul from the diary, then technically he wouldn't know everything Lord Voldemort knew. But he did somehow. That was the confusing part. But she didn't have the energy or desire to ask, to understand exactly how much of Lord Voldemort lived inside her.

Tom Riddle's soul is inside me, Tom Riddle's soul is inside me, Tom Riddle's soul is inside me, Tom Riddle's soul is inside me...

Part of her had a theory. That when Voldemort's body died, all his soul gathered into the one living body his soul was still contained in. And he sounded like Tom because his soul reverted to what it was before he tore it to pieces. But then, at the point in time he'd possessed her – his sixteen-year-old self – he'd already murdered somebody.