Bonds of Affection

Harry awakened with a start. He was lying on his back, on a hard, wooden surface. He opened his eyes – but saw nothing. It was more than just pitch-black darkness – it was something else. He was blind.



He shifted slightly, and realized that he could not move his arms, or legs- they were bound with lengths of chains, as far as he could tell.



Where the hell was he?



He opened his mouth to cry out to anyone who might hear, but no sound came out of his throat, not even a faint whimper. He had no voice.



Panic surged through him briefly, but he willed it away. He shifted on the floor slowly, inch by inch, until his feet struck against another firm surface. He pushed himself against it, and inched his way back, this time, the top of his head striking against the wood. He attempted to sit up, but wood was above him, as well.



Panic returned, in full force. He had been buried alive. That was the prophecy. To be sealed in the tomb. He remember Severus telling him about his nightmares... He should have listened, Harry thought bitterly, but he never had. He just pushed the fears away, and pretended that it was nothing. Perhaps if he had listened to Severus, he could have figured something out... could have been ready for something like this... but now... now what?



He sniffled quietly and moved a bit, inch by inch, bending his legs in the knees as much as the chains permitted.. He then struck out, as hard as he could, making his boots impact against the wall of the coffin. It had not budged.



Not that it would matter, Harry thought with despair – what if he did manage to break it? All that would accomplish, would be soil pouring into the coffin to suffocate him. Harry twisted and turned his body, attempting to slide out of the chains that held him – without any success. The chains formed a type of net, or harness, that was locked onto him.



For a moment, he had a faint hope returning – perhaps Hermione and Ron would find him... with whatever tracking magic they were using. But then, he remembered Hermione\'s warning, for him to stay “above ground”, and hope dissipated again.



He lay quietly on his back, attempting to calm himself. He twisted his wrists slightly, and pressed his palms against the wooden surface. His fingers felt the uneven, rough texture and his fingernails scraped the thin grooves in the wood. He picked at one of them slightly, and ended up driving splinters into his fingers.



The complete darkness, the feeling of the wood beneath him, against his head, and by his sides, the sensation of being trapped and utterly helpless filled him with unspeakable terror – and he screamed without sound, straining his throat only to emit a noiseless cry of horror. His unseeing eyes flooded with tears and he sobbed silently, even as his body convulsed in chains with every sob. He started feeling short for breath, and for a brief moment he thought he was suffocating – already. He forced himself to calm down, as much as he could, and his breathing returned to normal. He was not sure how much air he had, he was guessing about an hour.



He had no idea it would come to this. But – he thought suddenly – maybe Severus did? Maybe he left him a way out... But what?



He remembered Severus saying: “Your wand will be available to you when it\'s time to fight.” Harry smiled in the darkness of his captivity. Perhaps that was it. Perhaps, somehow, Severus had snuck his wand in.. but where? Harry twisted in his restraints again, hoping to feel it on him. But he felt nothing – other than the clothing and his own skin. He suddenly remembered his conversation with Severus, the morning after Harry\'s disobedient escape from overnight bondage:



We\'ve been reading ahead. Hermione helped teach too – she knows a lot of really obscure spells. Like the Undetectable Extension Charm... that\'s neat.



You think so?



Yes. Properly applied, it can be really helpful. Theoretically, there is no limit to how much stuff you can cram into a small space with that charm.



His fingertips, barely able to move, trailed the long thin grooves in the wooden surface again. One of those grooves must contain his wand, Harry thought. Now, to figure out where it was, so that he could focus his thoughts on it...



Trelawney\'s voice echoed in his mind again. For just above the heart of gloom, Lies trace of fire, in wood entombed.



This was the heart of gloom, he thought. And just above, in the lid of the coffin, buried in one of the thinnest grooves in the wooden surface, with use of Undetectable Extension Charm, was the Phoenix feather, encased in holly – “the trace of fire, in wood entombed.”



He imagined it, believed in it, and focused on it....It was all he needed. He did not need to see it, to feel it with his hands. He did not even need his voice. He had learned to get by without any of that.



Relashio!He commanded voicelessly. The chains around him fell off, as if struck off by an invisible force.



In the darkness, underneath the ground, he smiled.



Finite Incantatem.



He felt a tingling run across his eyes and his throat.



“Yes!” he cried out loud in triumph, and lifted his hands to touch the lid of the coffin. He was still anxious, almost to the point of delirium, but the despair was gone.



He thought about what spell he could use to escape. He went through the possibilities in his mind. He wasn\'t too keen on trying to levitate the coffin out of the ground, and then using Allohomora – if his concentration wavered, he could plummet right back in. And, knowing Voldemort, the lock was probably hexed, too... eventually, he decided on Apparating right out of his entombment.



He wondered if he could Apparate while leaving his wand behind. How deep was the grave? Six feet? Ten? Fifty? He swore under his breath, and cursed himself for not pestering Severus about the details of those nightmares. Just one well-placed question, such as, How deep was the grave, anyways? would have saved him a lot of trouble at this point. He decided to simply try for the height of fifteen feet.



Harry took a deep breath, stilling himself against the nervous tremors going through his entire body.



He thought of Severus, and then, of Ron and Hermione; then focused his mind on the wand once more.



“I\'m on my way,” he whispered.





... To Be Continued...