Disclaimer: Nope, Harry Potter's not mine. Neither is the idea of him being Salazar reincarnated, since there are already several great stories along that line.

A/N: I've been out of the fanfic world for a while, but I'm back now and ready to get to work on a new story. This chapter begins in second year, but this is just to lay some groundwork. The majority of the fic will take place in sixth year.

-S-

The Chamber of Secrets was dark, lit only by a few flickering torches spaced far apart along the walls, casting shadows throughout the vast space. Large pillars with raised carvings of snakes lined the room, their mouths open wide, displaying enormous fangs. The opposite end of the room was shadowed and impossible to see.

Twelve year old Harry Potter stood in the doorway, examining the Chamber. Just looking at the place gave him a headache, but he'd become so used to them in the past few months that he easily ignored it. The headaches had been happening more and more often lately, starting around Halloween. He hadn't missed the fact that they seemed to pop up every time someone mentioned the Heir of Slytherin or the Chamber of Secrets, but what they meant was anybody's guess. He hadn't told Ron or Hermione – they would probably insist he go to Madam Pomfrey or Dumbledore, and that wasn't something he'd felt like dealing with lately, on top of everything else.

Cautiously, he stepped further inside the Chamber. There was no sign of Ginny Weasley, but someone must have been down there recently, to light the torches. Perhaps Ginny's kidnapper was lurking out of sight behind one of the pillars, waiting to attack him. And where was the basilisk?

Gripping his wand tightly, he walked forward, and tried not to wince when the pain in his head increased. Harry couldn't shake off the feeling that he'd been here before, although that should've been impossible. The Chamber felt incredibly familiar – but how could that be?

There was a rustling sound from somewhere up ahead, bringing Harry back to the present and making him stop dead.

"Ginny?" he called.

There was no response. He highly doubted that Ron's sister was still alive, after being kidnapped by the Heir of Slytherin. She'd probably been fed to the basilisk hours ago…

The other end of the chamber came into view. There were fewer torches here, their flickering flames giving the place an eerie feel. At the very back of the room was an enormous statue of a man who looked almost monkey-like.

Common sense told Harry that it was probably a statue of Salazar Slytherin himself (after all, this was Slytherin's chamber), but something – some strange thought in the back of his mind – made him think otherwise. It was a confusing feeling, and it didn't help that his headache increased the moment he looked at the statue.

But Harry didn't get a chance to think about it further. He caught sight of a small figure in black robes lying on the floor. Gripped by panic, he rushed forward, all thoughts of Slytherin and the basilisk flying right out the proverbial window.

Ginny's flaming-red hair was spread round her face like a halo. Her eyes were closed, almost as if she was sleeping, but her face was white as a ghost.

Harry was on his knees beside her before he knew it. Filled with dread, he noticed that she was hardly breathing, and seized her wrist. She had a pulse, but it was so faint that it was almost non-existent.

She didn't seem to have any injuries, so why did he get the feeling she was mere minutes from death's door?

Then his headache throbbed horribly, and for a moment it wasn't Ginny lying prone before him, it was another girl, older and with long black hair rather than red, wearing extremely old-fashioned robes. There was a stab wound in her chest, leaking crimson blood… blood which was also on his pale hands…

Harry didn't even have time to think before the scene vanished, leaving Ginny before him once more.

Stunned, he looked down at his hands. They were free of blood. Harry swallowed. What in Merlin's name had he just seen? Was he losing his mind? Surely he had to be… This whole mess had driven him crazy, and he had no way to get Ginny out of the Chamber… she was going to die, and it would be his fault. Why did that seem familiar? Merlin, he'd lost it, and Ron and Hermione were going to hate him forever for letting Ginny die, for not being able to save her…

Unable to think of anything else, he grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her.

"Ginny, wake up – you've got to wake up, Ginny, c'mon – Ron'll kill me if you're dead – please don't be dead –"

"She's not dead," came a cold voice from nearby, "but it won't be long now."

Harry looked up in alarm at the sudden sound. It took him a moment to recognize the tall, black-haired boy leaning casually against a pillar nearby, but when he did, his eyes narrowed. Tom Riddle had attended Hogwarts half a century ago – Harry had seen him in the diary – so why was he standing in the Chamber now, looking not a day older than sixteen? He looked the same as he had in the diary, only now his outline was strangely blurred, as if he was being seen through a fogged window. He smirked lazily, blue eyes flickering between Harry and Ginny.

"Tom Riddle," Harry stated more than asked, getting to his feet. Something wasn't right about this. Putting on a confused expression to hide his feeling of unease, he asked, "What're you doing here? Are you a ghost?"

Riddle's dark smile widened slightly. "No. A memory, preserved in a diary for fifty years. I must say, I'm pleased to finally meet you, Harry… or should I say, Salazar?"

Harry had almost forgotten the feeling of pain in his head, but it gave a sharp throb when Riddle spoke Slytherin's name. Harry flinched, but the pain went away as quickly as it had come. Baffled, he stared at Riddle, who was smirking widely now, looking pleased, as though some important theory of his had just been confirmed.

"What're you talking about?" Harry demanded. "I've got nothing to do with Slytherin – and why are you down here, anyway? Only Parselmouths can get into the chamber…"

Riddle titled his head. "I see you have yet to regain your memories. No matter, there are ways…" he seemed to speak that part mostly to himself, then continued, "You're much more involved with Slytherin than you think, Harry Potter. No need to look alarmed; it will be clear to you soon, I'm sure. And don't worry about dear little Ginny – she's serving her purpose even as we speak."

"You brought her here," Harry realized. "You meant for me to come after her."

And suddenly, everything was clear. Riddle had kidnapped Ginny… Riddle knew how to access the Chamber. Riddle was Slytherin's heir – it had been him all along, even fifty years ago. He'd been the one controlling the basilisk, ordering it to attack Muggle-borns. But that still didn't explain how Riddle still looked like a teenager… unless… Harry glanced around, and sure enough, the black diary was lying on the floor beside Ginny. Why he hadn't noticed it before, he didn't know, or care.

Watching Harry's expression, Riddle nodded, taking a step forward. "I see your famed cunning is shining through at last. You're correct. I was the one behind the attacks on the Mudbloods. It was incredibly simple, really – Ginny poured her soul into my diary, you see. She confided everything to me. How excited she was about going to Hogwarts, her fear of not matching up to her brothers, how the great Harry Potter never even seemed to so much as look at her… Some of her entries were very boring, mind you, but her secrets gave me power. It wasn't long before I started putting a bit of my soul back into her. Soon enough, I could take control of her. Ginny has been commanding the basilisk all year, doing my bidding. The whole thing was ridiculously easy. And now, I've no more use for her. Her life is draining away, into me, giving me power. I'm afraid sweet little Ginny won't last much longer. Soon she will be dead, and I will be truly alive."

"So luring me down here was only an added bonus," said Harry darkly. "None of them are dead, you know. Those students you attacked are only Petrified. Once the Mandrakes are ready, all of the Mudbloods will –"

He stopped short, horrified.

WHY did I just say that word?

Riddle laughed. "As I said, it will be clear soon. I had my reasons for wanting you to come here, Harry. You see, Ginny wrote some very interesting things about you. She told me all about how the school discovered you're a Parselmouth – she was terribly worried that everyone would think you were the heir of Slytherin and kick you out of Hogwarts. She told me she overheard your friends arguing about you. Apparently you've been acting quite strangely this year. The Mudblood and the blood-traitor were getting very concerned. Seems you've been lying to them, sneaking off on your own… they wondered what you were hiding. They worried about your headaches, and how you never seem to get much sleep. Ginny heard the entire conversation from behind a bookshelf in the library as Granger researched the Chamber. I believe that was only two days before the Mudblood was Petrified."

A bit taken aback, Harry shook his head, taking in the information. So Ginny had been spying on them all year… and he hadn't managed to hide his headaches from Hermione and Ron after all.

"I still don't understand," he said finally. "Why would any of that matter to you?"

"Because the signs were so blaringly obvious," said Riddle. "I admit, it took me a bit to add it up, to figure out what must be happening… When I recognized what was going on, I knew I had to talk to you, meet you if I could… and of course Ginny here" – he nudged her with his foot – "was the perfect opportunity."

Harry was getting tired of this. He felt an unexpected wave of impatience – he was standing here chatting while Ginny's life was being leached away. She'd already been in the chamber for hours… how long did she have left? It might be only minutes. He didn't have time to listen to Riddle any more. It was time to get to the point.

"What signs are you talking about? Why'd you want me to come here? And no more talking in circles and giving me pointless hints. Tell the truth."

Riddle smirked again. "Actually, I rather expected you would figure it out on your own."

Harry frowned, mentally reviewing the conversation. It had gone from simply strange to entirely bizarre in a very short amount of time, as far as he was concerned. Riddle had said he was 'much more involved with Slytherin' than he thought… 'I see your famed cunning is shining through at last'… And when he had first arrived in the Chamber, Riddle had called him Salazar…

The incidents came together like pieces of a puzzle, and stunned realization swept over Harry.

"You think I'm him," he breathed, astonished. "You think I'm…"

"Oh, but I don't just think so. I know so." Riddle sounded a bit haughty, clearly pleased that Harry was catching on. "I knew I was right from the moment I thought of the possibility. Where do you think your headaches come from, Harry? They are the result of your memories trying to return. This Chamber feels familiar to you, I'm sure, and so will a great deal of other things. There's no telling when your memories of your past life will return. I had hoped that meeting you here in the Chamber might help the process along, and it seems I may have been right."

For a moment, Harry was too surprised to speak. Then he quickly shook his head. "That's ridiculous – you've got it wrong. There's just… there's just no way I could've been Salazar Slytherin. You've made a mistake."

"Have I?" asked Riddle tauntingly. A second later, he'd drawn a wand seemingly out of nowhere. "Exuro!"

Instinct took over.

"Contego!" Harry shouted, slashing his wand through the air in an X, and froze in shock as a deep blue shield flared into existence before him, blocking Riddle's yellowish spell and absorbing it harmlessly.

In his amazement, Harry released the shield spell, although he had a feeling it could've lasted much longer if he'd wanted it to.

His mind was racing. He shouldn't have known that spell! He'd never even heard of it before! But he had shouted the incantation automatically, on impulse… as though he'd used it before.

Harry's expression of confusion (mixed with a bit of dawning horror) seemed to amuse Riddle greatly, although he'd stopped smirking now and looked quite serious.

"So you see, Harry, I am right – one way or another, you're going to have to accept it. You should be pleased. Very few witches and wizards are reincarnated, and even less actually become fully aware of their past lives. Those who do usually go mad, but I have a feeling you may be different. That's the reason I needed to speak with you. Once your memories are unlocked, you will be caught between two entirely different personalities, and one will eventually win out over the other. As your heir, I felt it was my duty, my responsibility, to make sure that you understood the… situation."

There was something in Riddle's tone during that last sentence that caught Harry's attention through his disbelief, and he frowned.

Riddle thought he, Harry, was the reincarnation of the darkest wizard in history. Riddle himself was obviously a dark wizard… and as Slytherin's heir, he wanted Slytherin on his side. He probably thought that Harry would be grateful to him for revealing these things… Riddle was trying to butter him up!

"You're lying," said Harry. "You're trying to trick me or something. I'm not Slytherin reincarnated, and–and even if I was, I'd never go along with you. You Petrified my best friend and you're killing my other best friend's sister! You're nothing but a liar and a murderer. I should've known when I saw you frame Hagrid."

Riddle's eyes narrowed, but it seemed he was trying to stay civil and salvage the situation. "I must admit, even I was surprised by how easily that plan succeeded. I thought that someone would surely realize that a brainless oaf like Hagrid couldn't possibly be the Heir of Slytherin… But only the Transfiguration teacher, Dumbledore, doubted my story. After Hagrid was expelled, Dumbledore kept a close watch on me, and I knew it was too dangerous to open the Chamber again while I was at school. That's why I left behind my diary – so that one day, I would be able to lead another in my footsteps, to reopen the Chamber, and finally finish Salazar Slytherin's noble work."

Harry had a strange feeling as he listened to Riddle speak. That really had been a good plan, very clever… Horrified by this line of thought, he quickly tried to shake away the feeling.

"There is nothing noble about setting a basilisk loose in a school of helpless kids!"

He could've sworn he saw Riddle's eyes flash briefly crimson as the older boy scowled.

"I should have known better than to expect that you would understand," he said angrily. "You're nothing but a foolish child. But you're only Harry Potter now. Perhaps in a few years you could be reasonable, once your memories have returned…. For the moment, it seems I have no use for you."

Harry opened his mouth to ask what that was supposed to mean (since Riddle clearly had no intention of killing him) when a burst of flames from nearby made both of them spin around.

The phoenix he'd seen in Dumbledore's office a couple of months ago, Fawkes, was flying toward them with something metallic clutched in it's talons.

Just looking at the fire-bird made Harry's head pound. The same thing had happened when he saw Fawkes for the first time in the headmaster's office. Could what Riddle said actually be true? Were the headaches caused by memories from his past life?

But he didn't get time to think on the subject. Fawkes swooped low, giving a trill of song and dropping the thing in his claws.

Automatically, without even thinking, Harry's hand reached up as though out of reflex, and he smoothly caught the sword by it's handle as it fell. Fawkes alighted on a nearby snake statue and kept singing the haunting phoenix song.

Harry examined the sword. It was lighter than he'd expected, probably from enchantments, and the largest, most deeply green emeralds he'd ever seen were encrusted in the silver hilt. The blade shone in the torchlight.

Riddle stared at it with something like reverence. "Slytherin's sword," he breathed, looking at Harry, and then smirked. "So you see, even Dumbledore's bird recognizes you for who you are. There's really no point in denying it," he added, when Harry opened his mouth to do just that. "Soon, you'll have to realize that not everything is as it seems. We could be great together, you know. With our powers we could conquer Britain, Harry, and from there the world. The Muggles and Mudbloods would be but ants beneath our feet. Even Dumbledore would be no match for us; he would fall to our power, along with anyone else who would stand in our way. Think about that."

For a moment, Harry could picture it. A world of darkness, where he and Riddle ruled as kings, and where people like the Dursleys got what they deserved. Quickly, he forced himself to snap out of it. He should not be intrigued by the idea. Not when it would mean death or a life of servitude for Hermione and the other Muggleborns. He could never condemn his friend to that.

So why did the thought of it interest him so? Could he really be considering it?

"No," he said, both in answer to his thoughts and Riddle's expectant look. "I won't betray my friends, and certainly not for you."

Riddle's face twisted into an ugly sneer.

"So be it."

-S-

Ron groaned, shifting another rock out of the way. He had to hurry. Harry must have been down in that Chamber for an hour now, and Merlin only knew what Slytherin's heir had done to him. Or to Ginny.

As he rolled the small boulder aside, he sighed in relief. Now he had a gap wide enough to crawl through the mound of rubble; hopefully he'd be able to find Harry on the other side, and they could get Ginny out of here.

Ron was not enjoying his time in the Chamber of Secrets. Everything was dark and slimy, not to mention downright creepy, and the fact that the entrance was hidden in a girl's bathroom was just plain weird.

Ron shimmied his way through the narrow tunnel between the large rocks. On the other side, he found himself standing in front of a long, plain corridor. At the end was a circular door, which was hanging wide open. Anxiously, he hurried forward.

The doorway led to what must be the main room of the Chamber. Ron didn't pause to look around, or even worry about the basilisk. He ran inside and hurried down the causeway between the pillars shaped like snakes.

"Harry?" he shouted, but there was no reply. "Ginny?"

He slowed down, examining his surroundings more closely. Where could they be? Was he too late? What would he do if he couldn't find them, or – he forced himself not to wince – if they'd already been fed to the basilisk?

There was something large lying in the middle of the room up ahead. Cautiously, Ron made his way forward, and stopped dead when he realized what it was. A huge snake was draped across the floor, facing him, its eyes bloodied as if they'd been gouged out. Its mouth was open wide, displaying three-foot-long fangs still dripping with venom.

Ron let out a shaky breath when he realized it was dead, but it took a moment to coach his legs into working again. Trying to keep as much distance between himself and the snake as possible, Ron skirted past it, wondering how anyone had managed to kill the thing.

Then he spotted two figures lying on the floor at the base of an enormous, monkey-like statue. Both of them were in Hogwarts robes. One's hair was messy and black; the other's was long and bright red.

Ron's eyes went wide with horror and he broke into a run, landing on his knees between his sister and his best friend. Ginny was white as marble but didn't seem to have any injuries, while one of Harry's sleeves was ripped at the elbow, revealing that his arm was covered in blood. There was a circular scar just below his elbow, which Ron had never noticed before, but otherwise he didn't seem to be hurt. A sword was lying nearby, as if Harry'd been holding it when he collapsed. The blade was dripping with more blood. Lying beside it was a basilisk fang.

For a moment, Ron could only stare. Then he regained his senses and quickly grabbed Ginny and Harry's wrists, feeling for a pulse. They were both still alive, making the youngest Weasley boy sigh in relief. But the fact that they were both unconscious couldn't be good…

"Ginny! Harry! Wake up, come on…" Feeling desperate, he shook them both. For a moment, neither stirred, then Ginny's eyelids began to flutter.

Ron almost fell over in relief and quickly grabbed his sister in a hug. Ginny looked around, bewildered.

"Ron?" she asked, voice raspy. "What…?" Then she seemed suddenly alert and pulled away. "You shouldn't be here, Ron, it's dangerous – I was the one who opened the Chamber, Ron! I should've told you from the beginning b-but I was scared, and I'm t-the person to blame for those people b-being Petrified… It was all my fault. But I swear I didn't mean to, Riddle m-made me…" then, she stopped, and asked in a shrill voice, "What's happened to Harry?"

"I don't know, Gin. We've got to get both of you to Madam Pomfrey. Can you stand up?"

Ginny nodded tearfully and got to her feet. She looked at the basilisk fang and sword on the floor beside her brother's best friend, then stumbled a couple of steps toward a pillar and picked up Riddle's diary. There was some kind of hole through the front and it was soaked in ink. Her wand was lying on the floor nearby. She vaguely remembered Riddle taking it from her when she'd arrived in the Chamber, before he'd started draining the life out of her….

Then she caught sight of the basilisk. Stunned, she looked at her brother.

"It's dead…?"

"Harry must've killed it," said Ron, "Merlin only knows how. I guess it had something to do with this sword." He grabbed the handle, then immediately dropped it. "OW! Bloody hell! It burned me!"

Ron fanned his hand back and forth, wincing. His palm was already turning red and blistered.

Ginny looked at the sword in surprise. "Do you think we should bother bringing it with us? It could be dangerous, or cursed…"

"Dumbledore might need to see it," said Ron, glaring at it. He picked up Riddle's diary, opened it, and used it to grab the blade of the sword, clamping it between the pages. Then, he looked at Harry. "D'you know how to do a Levitation Charm, Gin? I'm not very good at them, and I don't want to accidentally drop him or anything."

Ginny nodded, gathering her strength. All she wanted to do at the moment was collapse on her bed and cry herself to sleep, but they had to get out of this horrible place first. She grabbed her wand and aimed it at the Boy Who Lived.

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

-S-

"…I just don't understand it, Albus… five days… tried everything, but he won't wake up… St. Mungo's…"

The vague snatches of a familiar voice were the first things Harry heard as he regained consciousness. His head felt fuzzy, and for several moments it was impossible to do anything but blink. He was looking up at the ceiling in a white room, laying on a cot, which was surrounded by curtains. After a moment, he realized where he must be.

The Hospital Wing. The room where Helga healed injured students. But how had he gotten here?

Wait, what? Helga? Who –?

The fuzzy feeling in his mind abruptly cleared, and he sat up with a sharp intake of breath.

He remembered.

It all came flooding back suddenly, leaving him overwhelmed and dizzy. Names, voices, faces, betrayals, promises, lies… they all returned. Memories of Rowena, Godric and Helga; murder and death, friendship and life… the disastrous end it all met. He remembered falling unconscious in the Chamber of Secrets, but also remembered a sudden, sharp pain, staring into horrified brown eyes as the blackness closed in…

And death.

He'd died, somehow. And now he was back, with the memories and personalities of both Salazar and Harry. It was a bewildering feeling.

There were still memories missing – he couldn't recall how he first met Godric or Helga, but he remembered being introduced to Rowena. He'd killed six Muggles but didn't know why, and he didn't remember founding Hogwarts, or building the Chamber of Secrets, or how he learned magic…

Half of his memories were absent. He knew reincarnation wasn't an exact process; he might regain his lost memories over time, but it was possible that they were gone forever.

Why in Morgana's name did this have to happen to him? As if having two personalities and two sets of memories wouldn't be bad enough for a normal person, his two personalities couldn't be more different. On one hand, he was Harry Potter, a Gryffindor, who everyone expected to be a hero, and already famous for defeating the Dark Lord. On the other hand, he was Salazar Slytherin, so-called evilest wizard of all time, who enjoyed learning the Dark Arts and had absolutely no intention of being anyone's hero.

He sat with his head in his hands, trying to look at the situation logically. There were advantages and disadvantages to regaining his memories. On one hand, he now had access to the spells he'd used as a Founder, most of which were very powerful and no longer taught to most wizards. Those spells would give him an enormous advantage in a duel – but if he slipped up and used them in front of the wrong people, he would have a lot of trouble trying to explain where he'd learned them. He would have to act like nothing had happened; no one would know about his past life – there were too many risks involved. Harry trusted his friends, but there were countless ways they could betray him without even meaning to.

And what about Tom Riddle? He'd been able to piece together what was happening; what if others could do the same? He'd defeated Riddle, but that didn't mean anything – Voldemort would find another way to return, eventually, and when he did he would certainly use Harry's secret as a bargaining chip.

Unless Harry could find a way to make sure he couldn't…

"I'm afraid it seems to be our only option, Albus," came Madam Pomfrey's voice from the direction of her office, making Harry look up. Two pairs of footsteps were headed toward his bed. She paused for a moment, then continued quietly, "I must say, Albus, that this doesn't look good. I've never seen anything like it; aside from the wound on his arm, Mr. Potter was unharmed. There's no logical reason for him to be in a coma, unless You-Know-Who did something…"

Her worried voice trailed off as she and Dumbledore came to a stop just outside the curtains surrounding Harry's bed.

Both adults were silent for several long moments.

"Contact St. Mungo's by Floo," said Dumbledore finally. "Tell them we will be moving Harry there if he doesn't wake before ten o'clock tomorrow morning. He is to have a private ward; only the Healers will be allowed in. No one is to inform the press. If word of this incident gets out, it could cause a panic."

Pomfrey's shadow, visible on the thin white curtains, nodded in agreement and walked back toward her office again. Harry heard Dumbledore sigh, before the man stepped forward and pushed the curtains aside.

His expression turned from grave to astonished when he saw Harry, then he smiled widely, eyes twinkling.

"Harry, my dear boy! You've had us quite worried – your friends refused to leave the hospital wing for three days, until poor Madam Pomfrey had to order them out. How are you feeling?"

Quite well, Headmaster, was the response he automatically wanted to give. He bit his tongue. Harry didn't speak so formally, but Salazar did (although a thousand years ago, the language was Latin, not English). He had to make sure he sounded like nothing had happened.

So he smiled and said, "Good, sir. Are Ron and Ginny okay?"

"Both of them are fine," said Dumbledore soothingly. "They were kept here in the Hospital Wing overnight as a precaution, but neither of them will have any lasting injuries. Arthur and Molly were terribly worried about you; they asked to be contacted immediately once you woke up. I admit, we were beginning to fear the worst. Do you remember how you were knocked unconscious?"

"No, sir," Harry lied, shaking his head. "Riddle told me he was Voldemort, and that he kidnapped Ginny so he could use her to come out of the diary. He wanted to kill me. Fawkes came, and Riddle called the basilisk…"

"And, according to Ronald, you defeated the basilisk with a sword," finished Dumbledore. "I'm quite proud of you, Harry; you must have showed remarkable loyalty to me down in the Chamber, which called Fawkes to you."

Harry kept his expression carefully blank, but he wanted to sneer. Loyalty? Dumbledore honestly thought that was what brought the phoenix to him?

Of course, Dumbledore probably didn't know that Fawkes had originally belonged to Godric, and he certainly didn't know Godric had ordered the phoenix to keep Salazar out of trouble at all costs. He'd seen it as an invasion of privacy and called the Gryffindor a stupid, overprotective fool… But later the bird had saved his life – saved all their lives…

Harry pushed the memories away and got back to the matter at hand. Dumbledore was still talking.

"…quite surprised. Salazar Slytherin's sword had been lost for centuries, or so we all thought. I suppose Fawkes has been taking care of it. He really is a marvelous bird. The fact that he brought the sword to you is also surprising."

Time to play the clueless Gryffindor.

"Professor," he began, then hesitated for a moment as though he was nervous. "The Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin – it said I'd do well there…"

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. "I expect you would have. There are also many similarities between you and young Tom Riddle; in fact, you both possess many of the qualities Salazar Slytherin himself prized. Determination, resourcefulness, and, if I may say so, a certain disregard for the rules. I suspect Fawkes sensed these qualities in you, and therefore chose you to receive Slytherin's sword. But you and Voldemort also have many differences. It is not our abilities that make us who we are, Harry, it is our choices. You chose not to be placed in Slytherin, you chose to resist Professor Quirrel last year, and refused to give him the Stone. You also chose to enter the Chamber of Secrets to save Ginny Weasley, despite the dangers lurking there. Tom Riddle would never have done these things."

Harry nodded, as though absorbing what he'd been told. "Thank you, Professor. Um, if you don't mind me asking… what's going to happen to Slytherin's sword? Riddle seemed to like it, what if he comes back for it?"

"I've wondered the same thing, dear boy. Tom will certainly feel that the sword is rightfully his, as Salazar's heir. He will likely assume I'll place it on my office wall, beside the sword of Gryffindor. What he does not know, and couldn't possibly understand, is that the sword has chosen you to be it's keeper."

Harry opened his mouth, but Dumbledore cut across him, smiling widely.

"I know you are confused. The sword was crafted by goblins over a thousand years ago, and the enchantments placed on it then are still strong today. I speculate that after the death of Slytherin, Fawkes must have hidden it somewhere in the castle. Goblins have very unique ideas about ownership, Harry, and some of the spells placed on items of their making are designed specifically to keep those items from being stolen. When Fawkes sensed that you needed assistance, he brought the sword to you. The moment the sword made contact with your skin, it became yours. I'm not entirely certain of why, but my guess is that it picked you because you were the first person to touch it in so many centuries, and thus the ownership charms transferred to you. Now no one but you can touch the sword without being burned."

Fool, Harry thought. Dumbledore's ideas had merit, but he knew the truth. Magic didn't work that way. The sword wouldn't choose a new owner just because that person was the first to use it in a thousand years. The sword was and would always be Salazar's. It had recognized him, just like Fawkes.

He wondered how many other items from his past life he might end up finding again.

And it wasn't just items; could people from his past life start returning as well?

-S-

A/N: The Chamber of Secrets scene wasn't meant to be so long-winded, it just sort of turned out that way.