Author's Note: A few passages from this chapter are lifted straight from Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, some with small modifications. Anything you recognize from the book obviously does not belong to me.

This is a soul bond fic. I know a lot of people don't like those so I'm just going to go out and say it clearly. If you despise soul bonds then I'm sure even the most well-written and entertaining story would still fail to convince you. It won't be like most other soul bond fics, I think, but the fact remains that it is what it is.

So, back in 2009 I wrote the first few chapters of Resonance, a soul bond fic that serves as a predecessor and inspiration for this one. I made a few missteps (some of them rather bad, in hindsight) and wasn't prepared for the sheer scale of the project I'd taken on. I burned out and quickly moved on to other stories, but the concept stayed in the back of my mind. Over the years, I toyed with the idea of continuing or rewriting it. I must have like eight different drafts of this one chapter alone. But now, I think I finally have it. And so, without further ado...

To those who read this fic's aborted predecessor and wanted more. This one's for you.

Help me — help me — Harry thought desperately, his eyes clenched tightly shut under the brim of the hat. Please help me...

Take this, a familiar voice — the voice he had once begged to put him in any other house but Slytherin — whispered into his mind. It is not yours, but you may use it for a time.

The hat contracted, as though an invisible hand was squeezing it very tightly. Something hard and heavy thudded onto the top of Harry's head, stunning him. With stars winking in front of his eyes, he grabbed the top of the hat to pull it off and felt something long and hard beneath it.

A gleaming silver sword had appeared inside the hat, its hilt glittering with rubies the size of eggs.

Resonance
Chapter 1: The White Queen

Ow.

The first thought that drifted through Ginny Weasley's mind was not particularly verbose. She could hardly be blamed though, as her mind was still only beginning to wander back towards consciousness. The throbbing pain in the back of her head certainly didn't help matters. With a quiet, anguished moan, she tried to push away the pain so she could determine where she was and what had happened.

It had become a routine by now. Frequent blackouts had plagued her throughout the past year, beginning just a few weeks after her arrival at Hogwarts to begin her first year. After every fainting spell, she would wake to find herself somewhere else, having done something during the time she couldn't remember. Now, whenever she woke anywhere but in her own bed in Gryffindor Tower, she would immediately take stock of her surroundings as soon as she was coherent...

...which seemed to be taking a rather long time on this occasion.

Eventually, she realized that her cheek was pressed up against a moist, stone floor. The air around her was cold and damp, and there was no sound to be heard other than the quiet plink of dripping water.

All of this was — unfortunately — far too familiar to her. She knew exactly where she was.

She was in the Chamber again.

Worse, she smelled blood. Quite a lot of it. Far too much.

Oh no.

She shivered again. Please... she pleaded — to whom, she wasn't sure. Please no... Don't tell me I actually killed someone this time...

She opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was the stone floor of the Chamber of Secrets. A massive shape loomed over her. She turned her head, heedless of the agony that such a small motion caused, and looked up as the shape slowly swam into focus.

Her breath caught in her throat. The Basilisk was there!

She recoiled from the monster, though the pain stabbing through her head stopped her from moving further. Her eyes squeezed shut to avoid the Basilisk's deadly gaze, she waited for her end to come. If it could not kill her with its eyes, it would simply poison her with its fangs.

I guess Tom has no more use for me, she thought, defeated. But maybe dying alone down here would be for the best. Nobody would ever have to know what I've done, and it's more than I deserve...

She frowned, her eyes still closed. The Basilisk sure was taking its time. In fact, she couldn't hear it slithering across the floor at all.

A minute passed before she summoned enough courage to open her eyes, squinting at the monster's sharp fangs. They...weren't moving to attack her. In fact, the entire beast seemed to be lying still and silent.

Her gaze drifted upward. End it, she told herself vehemently. End it before you end someone else!

She looked into its eyes —

But they were gone! Two empty sockets stared back at her, dripping with blood and marred with slashes that looked like they came from an enraged bird's talons. Once upon a time, such a grisly sight might have caused her to lose her lunch, but it seemed downright tame in comparison to the things Tom had shown her once she'd fallen fully under his sway.

Then she noticed the pool of blood around its massive head. There was a lot of it. More than even a creature of such massive size could stand to lose.

The monster was no more.

But...how?

Her silent question was answered by a quiet shuffling noise behind her, followed by the sound of metal scraping against stone. Slowly, she managed to push herself upright and turn around, worried about what she might find behind her. What she actually saw, though, shocked her.

Harry Potter was slowly walking towards her, smiling despite his apparent exhaustion as he approached. His robes were torn and shredded, and he was absolutely drenched in blood that Ginny desperately hoped wasn't his own. In one hand, he held a longsword with a ruby-encrusted hilt and a blade that somehow shone a bright silver despite the muted green light of the Chamber, though he clearly lacked the strength to keep its point from dragging across the cobblestone floor. A tattered old hat that looked a lot like the Hogwarts Sorting Hat was tucked under the same arm that held the sword, and the handle of his wand was barely visible from where it was wedged beneath his belt. In his other hand was the source of Ginny's year-long nightmare.

The Diary. A ratty old book with a black cover and a gaping hole punched right through the center. Ink dripped from it to the floor, mixing with the water and blood that already coated the stone.

"Harry —" Ginny whispered, catching herself by surprise as words began to tumble from her lips, "— I tried to tell you at b-breakfast, but I c-couldn't say it in front of Percy — it was me, Harry — but I — I s-swear I d-didn't mean to — R-Riddle made me, he t-took me over —"

The memory of what Tom had done to her — was it only just a few hours ago? — surfaced in her mind, and she retched, her empty stomach heaving as she again felt his creeping presence, the shadowy tendrils that had crept into her mind, infecting everything they touched.

She heard the clatter of metal on stone before a hand rested lightly on her back, rubbing gentle circles as she continued to retch violently. Somehow, it helped, and she took several deep breaths as her nausea began to fade.

"It's alright," Harry whispered to her as he continued to rub her back. He knelt down and placed the Diary in front of her on the ground. "Riddle's Finished. Him and the Basilisk. C'mon Ginny, let's get out of..."

The hand slowly moved up her back, and Ginny felt her spine tingle in spite of herself.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked. "Your neck —"

His blood- and ink-slicked hand gently touched the back of her neck, and Ginny's world exploded with pain. She screamed, unaware that Harry's voice echoed her own.

Ginny collapsed onto the floor of the Chamber of Secrets. By the time Harry's muscles gave out and he fell on top of her, unconsciousness had already claimed her once again.

Dumbledore was moving through a second floor corridor, his long strides carrying him down the hallway at a speed his age belied, when he felt it. A wave of pure power swept through him and his hair did its level best to stand on end despite its excessive length. It took only a moment to pinpoint the source of the surge before he quickly turned down a different hall and all but ran towards the girls' toilet.

At the top of the North Tower, Sibyll Trelawney froze and dropped the irregular lump of crystal she'd been holding. It fell to the floor with a loud thunk and rolled under a table, but sound was not enough to rouse her.

Her mouth stretched wide and she spoke in a harsh, gutteral voice. Then she shook her head and looked at her empty hand, the words already gone from her mind.

"Where...?" she murmured quietly. Then she looked down and saw the crystal she had dropped. Frowning at her momentary lapse in attention, she knelt to pick it up.

Her forgotten prophecy went unheard.

Ginny gasped as she abruptly came awake. This was not the slow awakening she'd grown used to experiencing after her blackouts; it felt more like a sudden slap to the face. Her eyes opened instantly, though it took a bit longer for her to focus enough to recognize the ceiling above her.

She was in the Hospital Wing. Had she blacked out again? Had someone found her passed out somewhere? The last thing she could remember —

The Chamber of Secrets. The Basilisk, lying dead on the floor. The Diary, ink bleeding from the hole torn through its center.

Harry.

"Good morning, Miss Weasley."

Startled, she turned her head towards the source of the voice that had greeted her, relishing the soft feeling of the bed she was resting on even as her head throbbed painfully, and saw that she was not alone in the room. Albus Dumbledore himself sat by her bedside, tucking his wand into his sleeve.

Oh no.

Ginny could feel herself start to shake as she looked up at the Headmaster's face. When he opened his mouth, she would have cringed, but even just the thought of moving again sent a new wave of pain through her head.

And so she waited for her punishment, wondering whether she would be sent to Azkaban or just expelled from Hogwarts. Would they snap her wand? Would she be forced to live the rest of her life without magic? Would she even have her life when they were done with her? Perhaps it would have been better if she had just died in the Chamber.

Instead, Dumbledore asked, "Would you like a lemon drop?"

Ginny stared at him. Was he serious?

Dumbledore gazed at her for a moment, then sighed and seemed to sag in his chair. Suddenly he looked every bit as exhausted as she felt.

"The students that were petrified have been cured," Dumbledore informed her softly. "They —"

"I'm so sorry, Professor," she whispered, tears filling her eyes at the reminder of what she'd done.

A hand gently grasped her shoulder. Surprised at the sudden contact, she looked up at him as he used his other hand to wipe the tears from her cheeks. "Here now," he said quietly, "there is no need to cry."

"But I... I hurt all those students — but it wasn't my fault! It was — It was Tom! He —"

"I know," he interrupted her. "Harry related the full story to me after he woke up. I know all about Tom Riddle. You are not to blame for his actions. All of the petrified students have fully recovered, no lives were lost, and the threat of the Chamber of Secrets has passed." He smiled wryly. "You are still weak from your ordeal, and I know Madame Pomfrey would hex me if I were to cause you undue stress."

That brought a tiny smile to her face, though it was more due to sheer relief than his little jest. She rubbed her bloodshot eyes, ashamed that she had cried in front of him, even if only a little, then mumbled, "So...?"

"So you will not be punished in any way," Dumbledore assured her. "I would be a terrible Headmaster if I held you responsible for your actions while under the direct control of Voldemort's younger self."

"Voldemort?!" she gasped. "But — But he's gone! I thought... 'younger self'?"

"Yes." Dumbledore nodded. Remorse crept into his voice as he continued, "They are one and the same. Tom Riddle became known to his closest friends as Lord Voldemort while he was still a student here."

Ginny was silent as she absorbed this new bit of information. She was less shocked than she believed she ought to be. Somehow, it just made perfect sense to her that Tom Riddle became Voldemort. It just seemed to... fit.

She felt as if she had always known.

"Now, Ginevra," the old man said quietly, drawing her mind back to the present, "I must speak with you about a... rather delicate issue. It is of absolutely vital importance. I would much rather put it off until you are released from the Hospital Wing, but sadly, it cannot wait." Her fear grew as she wondered what he meant. Her head throbbed again, but she did her best to ignore it.

"What is it?" she asked.

"When Harry destroyed the Diary," he said hesitantly, as if he didn't want to tell her, "I believed Tom's memories and thoughts to be gone, lost forever. However, I can see now that I was wrong. You were possessed by him so thoroughly, and for so long, that I believe parts of his memories, parts of whatever was actually within that diary, remain within your own mind."

"No," Ginny whispered, though somehow, she knew he was right.

"I am truly sorry, but —"

"No!" she shouted at him, overwhelmed by a painful mix of fear, horror, and rage. "I don't want his memories! I don't want to know anything about him! I don't want to have anything to do with him! I just want him to LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Dumbledore looked down at her, with something that looked alarmingly like pity in his eyes. She almost shouted at him again, but the look on his face stopped her. Instead, she whispered two words:

"Obliviate me."

The Headmaster was silent. Ginny glared at him.

"Do it!"

Dumbledore shook his head. "I cannot."

"But..." Ginny whispered, tears once again falling down her face, "Why?"

Dumbledore's voice was just barely louder than her own when he said, "I wish with all my heart that I could simply make you forget — no child should ever have to experience what you've been through — but Tom's experiences and knowledge are so tied up with all of your thoughts and memories of the past year that trying to remove it all could seriously damage your mind."

"I don't care," she said, defeated. "I'd rather be a drooling idiot than have even a speck of him in my head."

Dumbledore favored her with a disapproving look.

"What one wants and what one receives are rarely the same," he told her. "You simply do what you can with what you have, and then you have to live with it." For a very brief moment, she saw sadness and regret in his eyes. "However, I was able to assist you while you were unconscious. While I cannot remove his memories from your mind, I was still able to lock them away from your conscious awareness. It is a rather crude solution, and will likely not hold up very long, but in that time you could learn to keep your thoughts organized without my help."

"How?" Ginny asked quickly.

"Occlumency," was Dumbledore's reply, though the word meant nothing to her. Her blank look prompted him to explain, "It is an art of the mind, used to organize one's thoughts and defend the mind from invasion. It is difficult to learn and nearly impossible to master, but I do believe you to be capable. Your will is certainly strong enough."

"Me? Strong?" Ginny let out a short, humorless laugh. "No, if I was strong, then I could've —"

"The Basilisk did not kill a single person while you were under Voldemort's control," Dumbledore told her quietly. "Tom would not have hesitated to kill. The Basilisk was incapable of hesitation. There is only one thing that could have stopped them." He raised a bony finger and tapped her forehead. "You. You held the Basilisk back, Ginevra. You refused to let it kill. You chose its targets carefully, allowing it to petrify, but never to kill.

"But I —"

"Many older, wiser, and more powerful witches and wizards would have failed, you know," Dumbledore informed her, not giving her a chance to argue. "They would have been broken by what you suffered. They would have fallen completely under Tom's influence. I imagine that if his diary had ended up in the hands of any other student — or even a Professor — far worse might have happened. You were strong enough to resist, strong enough to keep him from making you kill, stronger than most would have been in your place. It takes courage just to survive what you have been through, but you somehow managed to do even more. You fought back, and prevented a single life from being taken this year. Never forget that."

He nodded decisively and stood, making his way to the Hospital Wing's entrance. He stepped through, closing the doors behind him to leave a speechless Ginny alone in the infirmary.

For most of the students of Hogwarts, the rest of the Spring term passed like a fleeting dream. They were ecstatic to see that their petrified classmates had been cured, and that their end-of-year exams had been cancelled. The fifth- and seventh-years still had to take their OWL and NEWT tests, but they were postponed until midsummer to allow the students who had been petrified to catch up on all the material they'd missed. Even Hermione's enthusiasm had only been slightly dampened to learn that they had no exams to study for.

Ginny couldn't resist a smile when she saw Hermione pull her two best friends into a group hug for what had to be the hundredth time now, though her grin faded quickly. The redhead's mood wasn't nearly as jubilant as her friends'. Though she was finally free of Tom Riddle's control, completely free for the first time since she'd discovered the diary buried in her trunk back in September, she couldn't shake the melancholy that had overtaken her. Her nights were spent tossing and turning, dreaming of the Chamber, or of bits and pieces of Tom Riddle's past. Even though Tom had only been sixteen when he created the Diary, and hadn't yet become the monster that the entire Wizarding World was afraid to name, he had still done plenty of terrible things even back then. After the third night in a row of waking up her roommates with her screams, she'd started putting a silencing ward around her bed to allow them to sleep even if she could not.

She still wasn't sure when she had learned that spell, which terrified her more than anything. Had the knowledge come from Tom? Had Dumbledore missed a few memories when he'd locked them away?

Eventually, after a long and agonizing few days, Ginny found herself on the Hogwarts Express as it traveled back to King's Cross Station. Harry, Hermione, Ron, and the twins had all claimed a compartment with her. Fred and George spent most of the ride amusing themselves by setting off Filibuster Fireworks to terrify the first-years in other cabins. Hermione had tried to stop them, but gave it up as a lost cause after Percy's attempt to restore order had ended with him being chased down the corridor into the next carriage by one of the very fireworks he'd tried to confiscate.

Ginny spent most of the trip staring absently out the window, reflecting on everything that had happened during her first year at Hogwarts even as she tried to just forget it all. She had just noticed they were approaching London when somebody began to speak.

"Ginny," a very familiar voice said. She tensed slightly but didn't turn towards Harry as he continued, "What did you see Percy doing, that he didn't want you to tell anyone?"

"Oh, that." Ginny relaxed, relieved that Harry hadn't asked anything about the Chamber or about Tom Riddle. Everyone else had asked her about what had happened, no matter how many times she'd refused to talk about it. Harry was the only one who had held his tongue. As she thought back to what Percy had believed she was about to say when she'd tried to confess everything to Harry earlier in the year, she forced a quiet giggle and answered, "Well, Percy's got a girlfriend."

Fred had just taken a stack of books from the luggage rack above the window, which he dropped on George's head after hearing that juicy nugget of potential blackmail material. "What?" he asked. George, rubbing his head, looked just as intrigued and not at all put out by the books that had just fallen on him.

"It's that Ravenclaw Prefect," she told them with a grin of genuine amusement. "That's who he was writing to all last summer. He's been meeting her all over the school in secret. I walked in on them kissing in an empty classroom one day. He was so upset when she was, you know, attacked." She paused, frowning. No matter what Dumbledore had said, she couldn't ignore the tiny voice in her mind that said it was all her fault. "You won't tease him, will you?"

She had to smother a laugh when she saw the looks on everyone's faces, particularly those of her brothers. Ron was smirking, but the twins looked as if Christmas had come half a year early.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Fred replied with a wide, almost sinister grin.

"Definitely not," George agreed, his face a mirror of his twin's.

When the train pulled in to Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters, the usual chaos of departing students ensued. Percy could be heard occasionally shouting over the din of students and parents reuniting, but nobody seemed to be listening and none of the other Prefects had even bothered to assist.

The Weasley siblings, Harry, and Hermione all stepped off the train and into the crowd. Fred and George put their Beater talents and stocky frames to good use, pushing and shoving through the crowd towards their parents. Harry and Hermione followed, walking with the group of redheads who fought through the chaos to the barrier and stepped through into the equally loud — but somehow less crowded — station proper.

Harry's family was easy to find. Ginny could recall seeing them a year earlier, when she'd been waiting on the platform for her older brothers to come home from Hogwarts. The Dursleys had been the only family that looked as if they wanted to be anywhere else but there. This year, the three of them looked even more uncomfortable and angry than before.

As the redheaded procession stopped so the Weasley children could properly greet their parents outside of the crowded platform, Ginny heard Harry sigh behind her.

"They found out last summer I'm not allowed to use magic outside of school," he murmured.

"Well, if they lock you up like last summer, we'll just have to spring you again," Ron replied.

"Ron!" Hermione hissed angrily. "You're lucky the two of you didn't get expelled for that stunt you pulled with the car! Harry, just try to avoid getting into trouble and —"

"It's not like I go looking for it," Harry protested. "Trouble just finds me anyway!"

Ron chuckled while Hermione huffed quietly, then the three of them said their goodbyes and split up. Ron was immediately scooped into a crushing embrace by the Weasley matriarch, while Hermione headed towards a well-dressed Muggle couple who looked a little bewildered at the sight of children and parents walking through a solid wall. Harry turned to face his own relatives. Ginny watched with a frown as the large, red-faced man sneered at Harry while the thin woman next to him looked down her nose in a way that made it seem that she was trying to imitate a displeased Professor McGonagall — and failing utterly.

Nobody should have to go home to a family like that, especially not Harry Potter Ginny thought as she turned towards her own parents. Her mother was smiling happily as she hugged each of the twins, who were offering token protests despite the wide smiles they wore. Ginny was the next one to receive a hug, and she hugged her mother in return with just as much vigor, though she glanced at Harry again as she did so, just in time to meet his eyes as he turned back for one last look at his friends. He smiled at her and waved. Ginny tried to wave back, but she blushed so red that her face matched her hair and could only just wiggle her hand a little as she buried her face in her mother's shoulder. When she finally chanced another look at him, he was already walking away with the Dursleys.

The back of her neck, just beneath her hairline, itched slightly. She frowned and reached behind her head to rub at the slightly raised skin there. She had sustained a few injuries in the Chamber of Secrets, though all had been healed by Madame Pomfrey except for one. For some reason, the mediwitch had later explained, a cut on the back of her neck had resisted the healing spells and would have to heal naturally. It had begun to do so already, but Ginny was sure that it would still leave a scar behind when it did.

As she resisted the urge to scratch the slowly-healing skin, she failed to notice Harry reach up to rub his forehead as he disappeared around the corner.

Albus Dumbledore sat in his office at Hogwarts, his hands clasped on his lap as he gazed off into the distance, deep in thought. A rather worn chessboard he'd bought in a Muggle shop many decades ago was placed on the surface of his desk, with white and black pieces on it depicting a game already in progress. His eyes narrowed as he looked down at the board and considered the state of his ongoing chess match. His white pieces and his opponent's black had both taken severe blows. Off to ths side rested the pieces that had been captured during the game.

Among the pieces he'd lost was the White Queen. A face came to mind as he picked it up and twirled it slowly between his fingers, a face with long, almost-crimson hair and vibrant green eyes.

"Lily Potter," he said as he placed the Queen back down on his desk, "sacrificed to protect the King."

He looked back at the board again. Harry Potter was the White King, of course, and Tom Riddle his Black counterpart. After all, if either King was taken, the game would end.

...and either must die at the hand of the other...

The White Knights were Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, naturally. They would stand by their King, and even lay down their lives to protect his own, if necessary.

He sincerely hoped it would not be necessary.

Severus Snape was the White Rook, while the currently defunct Order of the Phoenix were the Pawns. He smiled slightly as he decided he was one of the Bishops. That still left a Rook and a Bishop unaccounted for on White's side, but Albus was certain they would have names and faces of their own, soon enough.

He looked at the black pieces now. He had already decided the King's role, but what of the others? The majority of the Death Eaters were likely just pawns in Tom's grand scheme, but that still left the rest of his pieces.

He thought of Tom Riddle's destroyed Diary, deciding that it should be represented, though he could not fathom why. He supposed that it would be a Rook. It just so happened that one of the Black Rooks was diagonally adjacent to the White King. The game he seemed to be playing against himself was certainly an unusual one, and Dumbledore had made many moves that would leave other chess players scratching their heads as he put pieces in incredibly odd places. In fact, most would likely assume that Dumbledore was truly rubbish at chess, for the moves seemed to make sense to nobody but him. However, this was not a normal game of chess at all.

With a smile, he moved the King to the Rook's space, and removed the Rook from the board.

"King takes Rook," he said. "Harry destroys the Diary."

Taking the Rook with his King had opened up a path for one of his Pawns — which had been on the verge of defeat at the hands of the Rook he'd just taken — to move forward. But first, it was Black's turn. He moved one of the Black Pawns toward himself, not really caring to assign a name or face to it yet. Then he smiled and took the White Pawn to move it one space up, to the opposite end of the board. Dumbledore frowned as he promoted the Pawn, replacing it with his discarded Queen. That left him with a difficult question to answer:

Who was the new White Queen?

A different face rose unbidden to the surface of his thoughts. Red hair like Lily's, but of a different shade more akin to fire than crimson, and chocolate brown eyes instead of verdant green. Younger than Lily, but every bit as selfless and brave.

"Ginevra Weasley," he whispered, his eyes wide with shock as he regarded the White Queen with an expression of slowly dawning comprehension. He had no idea why, but Ginny being the Queen seemed right, somehow. And just as the Black Rook had threatened his Pawn, so had the Diary threatened Ginny. Dumbledore had learned long ago not to discard errant thoughts like that one. Instead, he took note of it and started to wonder what it meant. How large of a part would the youngest Weasley play in the years to come?

He leaned back in his chair to consider the state of the chess match again, then nodded and looked across his desk, imagining a teenaged boy with steel-gray eyes sitting in one of the seats opposite him. That boy was long gone now, but Albus could not help but see him as the child he used to be, rather than the monster he'd become. With a sigh, he gestured towards the board.

"Your move, Tom."