Harry Potter and the Ties that Bind

Chapter 43

Harry woke up with a pained rasp. His chest felt like it had been repeatedly stabbed with a butcher knife. Every breath he took brought a sharp agony that made him want to curl into a ball. The jangling of chains made him flinch, even as the manacles attached to his wrists kept him from falling to the floor. The joints of his shoulders ached. A warm wetness trickled down his arms. A pair of manacles were digging into the skin of his wrists.

He looked at his surroundings with bleary eyes, but no matter how much he looked, nothing seemed to have changed. His prison looked the same as he remembered the last time he woke up. Dirty white carpet, disgusting white walls, a cracked white ceiling, all of which was covered in crimson runes. This place had more in common with a barren mansion room than a prison—not like it mattered. Wherever this place was, it had clearly been designed to keep him from leaving.

His eyes trailed across the runes covering the room. They were a meshwork of various runic languages. Just from the one side he had view of, Harry could see everything from Roman, Greek, Latin, Norse, and Egyptian runes. Someone had combined numerous languages into a single, massive, runic array. The person who had kidnapped him had unbelievable talent.

More jingling made his eyes trail up to the manacles that wrapped around his wrists. Beyond the blood dripping from underneath the iron shackles, Harry could see the chain that was keeping him aloft. The chain was just long enough that his feet touched the ground if he stood on his tiptoes, but it was too short for him to stand properly. This left him in a precarious position. His left shoulder had also been dislocated from his last attempt to escape. His magic hadn't healed it.

Harry didn't know where his wands were. Both his and his mother's wand had been gone the first time he'd woken up in this place. At that time, he had tried breaking out by smashing apart the manacles, but they were too strong. He'd also tried to pick the lock, but not only could he not conjure anything with which he could use as a lockpick, the manacles didn't have a keyhole. They were probably conjured creations.

A loud creaking echoed from behind him. Harry would've turned his head, but he didn't even have the strength for that anymore. Footsteps played an ominous tune on the carpet. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. They were precise, measured, and calm, the walk of someone who knew how to play with people's mind.

Seconds later, a person walked in front of him. Red hair. Green eyes. Freckles. She was shorter than him, but the sense of presence, the dark aura surrounding her, was unlike anything he'd felt.

"You..." Harry could barely speak. His throat was parched. "Tom..."

"Ginny" chuckled. "You've already figured out who I am. I'm not surprised. You really are intelligent. You actually remind me a lot of myself when I was your age."

"Ginny..."

"Still here, I'm afraid," Tom admitted with a shrug. "It's sad, but I can't get rid of her soul. Bodies are strange things. While the soul and the body are separated by the ethereal and physical plains, they are still connected by threads that cannot be undone without suffering consequences. If I killed off Ginny, this body would become useless." Tom cocked his—well, Ginny's—head to the side. "Of course, there are ways of fixing that, but it takes a long time, and it's not worth the effort, especially when I don't have any plans for this body."

Harry tried to follow Tom's line of thought, but the discomfort in his shoulders and pain in his arm distracted him. It made processing the words difficult. All he understood was that Tom had no designs on Ginny's body, and that Ginny was apparently still alive.

"You don't know how difficult it was for me to remain in this body," Tom continued. "After you destroyed my diary, it took everything I had not to be destroyed along with it. Were it not for the fact that more than half of my soul had already been inside of her, I dare say I would've died. Not a pleasant prospect. No, not pleasant at all."