Binding

Harry hurtled down the stairs and skidded down the hallway through the double doors that lead to the hospital wing.

He caught sight of the top of Sally's head resting on a pillow. She was surrounded by a large group of people. Harry ran towards them and stopped abruptly.

Her face, hair, hands and feet were covered in blood.

Harry let out a gasp and staggered back, his hands over his eyes. Several people turned around, Remus rushing over to calm Harry down.

"It's alright," said the werewolf, taking Harry's hands and gripping them between his own. "It's not her blood."

Harry let out a deep breath and let Remus guide him to a chair. "Whose blood is it then?" he asked, still shaking.

"Animal blood, mostly" replied Remus. "There's some human but I don't know whose, just that it's not hers."

Harry wondered for a moment how Remus knew so much, and then remembered that his lycanthropy gave him heightened senses.

"Why the hell…" he began, but Remus had already anticipated the question.

"We think she may have been used as part of an ancient dark ritual, looking at the blood and the way she is dressed."

Harry craned his neck over to the bed, to try and make sense of Remus' last statement. Sally was wearing a white robe, decorated with gold braiding and covered in runes.

"How did you find her?" he asked.

Remus looked down, unable to meet Harry's gaze. "She…she was left at the edge of the Forbidden Forest," he said. "Someone set off the alarms on the school boundary. When Hagrid went to check, he found her lying there. Once her parents had confirmed it was Sally, Proffesor Dumbledore called a meeting of the Order."

Harry shuddered. Kidnapped, used as part of a dark ritual and then unceremoniously in the woods. She must have been terrified, he thought.

Madam Pomfrey approached the chair in which Harry was sitting and crouched down beside him.

"Sally will be absolutely fine," she said. "No cuts, no bruises, once we get all that blood off her and she's had a good night's sleep, she'll be as good as new. In fact…"

Madam Pomfrey stood up.

"Everybody out!" she boomed. "This girl needs some rest."

One by one, the people standing around the bed traipsed out, leaving only Neil and Susan. Susan was sitting on the edge of the bed, stroking her daughter's hair, oblivious to the rest of the world.

Madam Pomfrey turned back to Harry. "Go get some sleep dear," she said, smiling gently. "Nothing's going to happen tonight."

Harry stood up, still in a daze.

"Can I…can I stay here?" he asked tentatively.

Madam Pomfrey beamed. "I was about to suggest it myself," she said, moving to pick up some linen. "I'll make you up a bed."

Harry awoke to sunlight streaming onto his face. Squinting, he rolled over, unsure where he was. Slowly, the events of the previous night began to come back to him. Sitting up, he put on his glasses, and looked over to Sally's bed. The curtains around it were drawn.

Harry slid out of bed and padded to the other side of the hospital wing. From behind the curtains, he could hear two voices; one unmistakably Madam Pomfrey's, the other higher and younger sounding. Harry hurried over to the bed.

Madam Pomfrey emerged from behind the curtain.

"She's awake, and she's been asking for you." she said, smiling broadly.

Harry needed no further encouragement. He dashed behind the curtain.

Sally was sitting up in bed. Now that all the blood had been cleaned off, she looked pale, and there were dark circles under her eyes.

She smiled and stretched her arms out to him. Obliging, Harry gave her an awkward hug, and then backed away.

"So," she said, still smiling, "is there something you want to tell me?"

"Where are your parents?" asked Harry, suddenly noticing their absence.

Sally shrugged. "Getting some sleep, probably. They were here all night, and they stayed for a while after I woke up. Mum didn't want to go, but it was obvious she was dropping on her feet."

Harry began to speak, but was interrupted by the entrance of Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall.

The headmaster approached Sally's bed. He was smiling, and Harry was relieved to see that the twinkle in his eyes had returned.

"How are you feeling, Sally?" asked Dumbledore.

"Still a bit groggy, but much better thanks," replied Sally.

"I'm glad to hear it," said Dumbledore, taking a seat. "I'm sorry to ask you this so soon, but we need to know exactly what happened to you after you were kidnapped. Do you mind talking about it now?"

Sally bit her bottom lip and nodded resolutely.

"Can't she…" began Harry, but Sally shook her head.

"No Harry," she said, "its fine."

She leaned back against her pillows.

"I was in the same room for most of the time. It was in a castle, I think, but I can't be sure. There was a man, he told me to call him Lord Voldemort, but I refused to call him anything. You could tell that he thought his name commanded complete respect, just from the way he said it, and I didn't want him think he had any power over me.

He wanted to hurt me, he really did, I could tell – but he couldn't. Or wouldn't, I don't know. In a way I found that scarier than if he had hurt me, the look in his eyes, the knowledge that he could kill me if he if he wanted to. He would sit in the room for hours, talking to me – well talking to himself really, I just happened to be there. He kept saying that his power knew no bounds, that he was limitless, that no one could defeat him now, stuff like that. Rambling."

Sally took a deep breath.

"Then one day, it must have been yesterday, he came in holding a long, white, dress thing. He said that if I did exactly what he told me to, I could go home. I had to put on the dress and then he…" she began to speak faster, "he drew on my face and on my hands and on my feet in blood and then I remember the fire, a large fire and lots of people and…"

Sally stopped. She was breathing heavily.

Dumbledore leaned forward and rested his hand on her shoulder. He looked sombre. "It is just as I feared," he said.

Sally raised both eyebrows quizzically.

"I think I should explain," continued Dumbledore. "From what you have described, I am almost certain that you were subjected to an ancient ritual called a soul binding. The fact that Voldemort didn't hurt you or perform magic on you before the ritual almost confirms it – you would need to be physically in very good health for it to have any chance of working. In itself it is only theoretical, there is no record of it having ever been performed, but we have looked at the runes on the robes that you were wearing last night. They are unmistakeable."

"What's a soul binding?" asked Sally weakly.

Dumbledore sighed. "When two souls share a certain characteristic, for example the souls of blood relatives, they can be bound in such a way that they must both leave their respective bodies at the same time. This means that a person whose soul is bound to another's cannot live if the other is dead. I don't know why this has been performed on you, whether it was experimentation or if there was another reason. More importantly, however, I don't know whose soul yours has been bound to. Without that knowledge, you may be in very grave danger."

A/N: Sorry for leaving it so long to update, I've been so unbelievably busy. My choir was in the semi-finals of the Choir of the Year competition this weekend, and we got through to the final (!) soI've been in Manchester. Thank you to all my lovely reviewers:

fippets : Glad you like it! I was also tempted to make them more disbelieving but decided not to through sheer laziness. I hang my head in shame. (Although fippets generally makes me hang my head in shame - not only did she sing an amazing solo on Sunday, she has also written a brilliant fic called The Power Within. I glare jealously at her.)

Stardustgirl23 : I'm glad you like it! You are now official proof that plugs do work!

Fictionair : OK, OK, I will, I will!