A/N: This story has no romantic pairings. Percy/Annabeth won't be developed by the time this story finishes. I need a beta-reader. I do pretty good on my own, but it would be nice to have someone else look over this story. Send me a message if you wish to beta my story. And now, as they say, on with the show.
Notes: '…' = thinking
Harry was lying in a pool of his own blood, slowly dying. A voice came to him, in the distance, whispering.
"Don't give up, my son, your destiny approaches."
Harry's vision was becoming increasingly blurred and he could hear Tom Marvolo Riddle, AKA Lord Voldemort laughing maniacally in the background. Just as the darkness was about to claim one Harry James Potter, a musical song filled the barren chamber. Through the haze, Harry recognized the sight of Fawkes, Professor Dumbledore's phoenix, just barely however, as the pain in his chest and arm worsened as the basilisk venom spread throughout his body rapidly.
Fawkes descended to Harry.
"See, you foolish boy, thinking you could defeat me, the greatest wizard who has ever lived. Even Fawkes knows your dead." Voldemort cackled evilly.
Fawkes had set himself upon Harry's arm and started to cry tears upon the open wound in the crease of his elbow. Miraculously, the skin began to knit back together, leaving only remnants of blood there, dried. Harry's vision began clearing, and the pain in his chest was loosening.
"Phoenix tears. I forgot. No matter, now we duel on skill alone. Let us once again match the powers of the Boy-Who-Got-Lucky against me, Lord Voldemort. And this time, I shall win." Voldemort proclaimed loudly, confidently and with an eerie smile on his face.
Harry forced himself to stand, and somehow, someway he managed to get to his two feet, albeit slightly swaying, when a surge began to erupt in him. It was an indescribable feeling, something he could only compare to power, pure power. It sang to him, rejuvenating him, filling him with much needed strength. Instinctively, he knew what to do, and he thrust his hands out in front of him, praying to whatever gods that were out there to let this work. Fire shot out of his hands and was directed to the black diary laying beside the cold, pale, prone form of one Ginny Weasley.
"Noooo," was all Voldemort had to say before his diary was incinerated before both of their eyes. Voldemort disappeared in a blinding flash of light still screaming. Instantly, Ginny woke up, looking around fearfully, eyes taking in the situation uncomprehendingly.
"Ginny, thank God you are alright," Harry said, sighing in relief.
"I'm so sorry, Harry, but Tom, he made me do it, Mrs. Norris, the chickens, everything. I'm going to be in so much trouble. And… Mom… and Dad… what would they say. I've always looked forward to coming to Hogwarts, and now I'm gonna have to leave." Ginny cried, bawling her eyes out, as she kept a strangle hold on Harry's chest.
"There, there," Harry said awkwardly, patting Ginny on the back. "I'm sure everything will be alright. Now, let's go back, your brother's been worried sick over you."
"Ron, he's here too. Oh no, what's he gonna say?" Ginny cried once again.
"Don't worry, I won't say a thing."
"Really, you're the best," Ginny exclaimed.
Harry took a hold of Ginny, and together they ran towards the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. Ginny's dried tears stained her face, while grime and dried blood stained Harry. They finally reached the area where the tunnel had caved in.
"I've got her, she's alive," Harry screamed to Ron, who awaited them behind the large pile of rocks.
"Ginny," was all Ron could say as Harry pushed Ginny to the small opening in the rocks and she climbed through. Harry quickly followed.
Fawkes had swooped through the gap after Ginny. "He's Dumbledore's," said Harry, squeezing through himself "How come you've got a sword." said Ron, gaping at the glittering weapon in Harry's hand. "I'll explain when we get out of here," said Harry with a sideways glance at Ginny, who was crying harder than ever.
"But—"
"Later," Harry said shortly. He didn't think it was a good idea to tell Ron yet who'd been opening the Chamber, not in front of Ginny, anyway. "Where's Lockhart?"
"Back there," said Ron, still looking puzzled but jerking his head up the tunnel toward the pipe. "He's in a bad way. Come and see."
Led by Fawkes, whose wide scarlet wings emitted a soft golden glow in the darkness, they walked all the way back to the mouth of the pipe. Gilderoy Lockhart was sitting there, humming placidly to himself. "His memory's gone," said Ron. "The Memory Charm backfired. Hit him instead of us. Hasn't got a clue who he is, or where he is, or who we are. I told him to come and wait here. He's a danger to himself."
Lockhart peered good-naturedly up at them all. "Hello," he said. "Odd sort of place, this, isn't it. Do you live here."
"No," said Ron, raising his eyebrows at Harry. Harry bent down and looked up the long, dark pipe. "Have you thought how we're going to get back up this." he said to Ron. Ron shook his head, but Fawkes the phoenix had swooped past Harry and was now fluttering in front of him, his beady eyes bright in the dark. He was waving his long golden tail feathers. Harry looked uncertainly at him. "He looks like he wants you to grab hold. . ." said Ron, looking perplexed. "But you're much too heavy for a bird to pull up there -"
"Fawkes," said Harry, "isn't an ordinary bird." He turned quickly to the others. "We've got to hold on to each other. Ginny, grab Ron's hand. Professor Lockhart -"
"He means you," said Ron sharply to Lockhart.
"You hold Ginny's other hand -"
Harry tucked the sword and the Sorting Hat into his belt, Ron took hold of the back of Harry's robes, and Harry reached out and took hold of Fawkes's strangely hot tail feathers. An extraordinary lightness seemed to spread through his whole body and the next second, in a rush of wings, they were flying upward through the pipe. Harry could hear Lockhart dangling below him, saying, "Amazing! Amazing! This is just like magic!" The chill air was whipping through Harry's hair, and before he'd stopped enjoying the ride, it was over - all four of them were hitting the wet floor of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, and as Lockhart straightened his hat, the sink that hid the pipe was sliding back into place. Myrtle goggled at them. "You're alive," she said blankly to Harry. "There's no need to sound so disappointed," he said grimly, wiping flecks of blood and slime off his glasses. "Oh, well ... I'd just been thinking ... if you had died, you'd have been welcome to share my toilet," said Myrtle, blushing silver. "Urgh!" said Ron as they left the bathroom for the dark, deserted corridor outside. "Harry! I think Myrtle's grown fond of you! You've got competition, Ginny!" But tears were still flooding silently down Ginny's face. "Where now." said Ron, with an anxious look at Ginny. Harry pointed. Fawkes was leading the way, glowing gold along the corridor. They strode after him, and moments later, found themselves outside Professor McGonagall's office. Harry knocked and pushed the door open.
For a moment there was silence as Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Lockhart stood in the doorway, covered in muck and slime and (in Harry's case) blood. Then there was a scream. "Ginny!"
It was Mrs. Weasley, who had been sitting crying in front of the fire. She leapt to her feet, closely followed by Mr. Weasley, and both of them flung themselves on their daughter. Harry, however, was looking past them. Professor Dumbledore was standing by the mantelpiece, beaming, next to Professor McGonagall, who was taking great, steadying gasps, clutching her chest. Fawkes went whooshing past Harry's ear and settled on Dumbledore's shoulder, just as Harry found himself and Ron being swept into Mrs. Weasley's tight embrace. "You saved her! You saved her! How did you do it?"
"I think we'd all like to know that," said Professor McGonagall weakly. Mrs. Weasley let go of Harry, who hesitated for a moment, then walked over to the desk and laid upon it the Sorting Hat, the ruby-encrusted sword, and what remained of Riddle's diary. Then he started telling them everything. For nearly a quarter of an hour he spoke into the rapt silence: He told them about hearing the disembodied voice, how Hermione had finally realized that he was hearing a basilisk in the pipes; how he and Ron had followed the spiders into the forest, that Aragog had told them where the last victim of the basilisk had died; how he had guessed that Moaning Myrtle had been the victim, and that the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets might be in her bathroom ... "Very well," Professor McGonagall prompted him as he paused, "so you found out where the entrance was - breaking a hundred school rules into pieces along the way, I might add - but how on earth did you all get out of there alive, Potter?"
So Harry, his voice now growing hoarse from all this talking, told them about Fawkes's timely arrival and about the Sorting Hat giving him the sword. But then he faltered. He had so far avoided mentioning Riddle's diary - or Ginny. She was standing with her head against Mrs. Weasley's shoulder, and tears were still coursing silently down her cheeks. What if they expelled her? Harry thought in panic. Riddle's diary didn't work anymore ... How could they prove it had been he who'd made her do it all. Instinctively, Harry looked at Dumbledore, who smiled faintly, the firelight glancing off his half-moon spectacles. "What interests me most," said Dumbledore gently, "is how Lord Voldemort managed to enchant Ginny, when my sources tell me he is currently in hiding in the forests of Albania." Relief - warm, sweeping, glorious relief - swept over Harry.
"W- what's that?" said Mr. Weasley in a stunned voice. "You-Know-Who? En-enchant Ginny. But Ginny's not ... Ginny hasn't been ... has she."
"It was this diary," said Harry quickly, picking it up and showing it to Dumbledore. "Riddle wrote it when he was sixteen . . . ."
Dumbledore took the diary from Harry and peered keenly down his long, crooked nose at its burnt and soggy pages. "Brilliant," he said softly. "Of course, he was probably the most brilliant student Hogwarts has ever seen." He turned around to the Weasleys, who were looking utterly bewildered. "Very few people know that Lord Voldemort was once called Tom Riddle. I taught him myself, fifty years ago, at Hogwarts. He disappeared after leaving the school ... traveled far and wide ... sank so deeply into the Dark Arts, consorted with the very worst of our kind, underwent so many dangerous, magical transformations, that when he resurfaced as Lord Voldemort, he was barely recognizable. Hardly anyone connected Lord Voldemort with the clever, handsome boy who was once Head Boy here."
"But, Ginny," said Mrs. Weasley. "What's our Ginny got to do with - with - him."
"His d-diaryl" Ginny sobbed. "I've b-been writing in it, and he's been w-writing back all year -"
"Ginny!" said Mr. Weasley, flabbergasted. "Haven't I taught you anything. What have I always told you. Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can't see where it keeps its brain. Why didn't you show the diary to me, or your mother. A suspicious object like that, it was clearly full of Dark Magic –"
"I d-didn't know," sobbed Ginny. "I found it inside one of the books Mum got me. I th-thought someone had just left it in there and forgotten about it -"
"Miss Weasley should go up to the hospital wing right away," Dumbledore interrupted in a firm voice. "This has been a terrible ordeal for her. There will be no punishment. Older and wiser wizards than she have been hoodwinked by Lord Voldemort." He strode over to the door and opened it. "Bed rest and perhaps a large, steaming mug of hot chocolate. I always find that cheers me up," he added, twinkling kindly down at her. "You will find that Madam Pomfrey is still awake. She's just giving out Mandrake juice - I daresay the basilisk's victims will be waking up any moment."
"So Hermione's okay!" said Ron brightly.
"There has been no lasting harm done, Ginny," said Dumbledore. Mrs. Weasley led Ginny out, and Mr. Weasley followed, still looking deeply shaken.
"You know, Minerva," Professor Dumbledore said thoughtfully to Professor McGonagall, "I think all this merits a good feast. Might I ask you to go and alert the kitchens."
"Right," said Professor McGonagall crisply, also moving to the door. "I'll leave you to deal with Potter and Weasley, shall I."
"Certainly," said Dumbledore. She left, and Harry and Ron gazed uncertainly at Dumbledore. What exactly had Professor McGonagall meant, deal with them. Surely - surely - they weren't about to be punished. "I seem to remember telling you both that I would have to expel you if you broke any more school rules, said Dumbledore. Ron opened his mouth in horror. "Which goes to show that the best of us must sometimes eat our words," Dumbledore went on, smiling. "You will both receive Special Awards for Services to the School and - let me see - yes, I think two hundred points apiece for Gryffindor."
Ron went as brightly pink as Lockhart's valentine flowers and closed his mouth again. "But one of us seems to be keeping mightily quiet about his part in this dangerous adventure," Dumbledore added. "Why so modest, Gilderoy?"
Harry gave a start. He had completely forgotten about Lockhart. He turned and saw that Lockhart was standing in a corner of the room, still wearing his vague smile. When Dumbledore addressed him, Lockhart looked over his shoulder to see who he was talking to. "Professor Dumbledore," Ron said quickly, "there was an accident down in the Chamber of Secrets. Professor Lockhart -"
"Am I a professor?" said Lockhart in mild surprise. "Goodness. I expect I was hopeless, was I?"
"He tried to do a Memory Charm and the wand backfired," Ron explained quietly to Dumbledore. "Dear me," said Dumbledore, shaking his head, his long silver mustache quivering. "Impaled upon your own sword, Gilderoy!"
"Sword?" said Lockhart dimly. "Haven't got a sword. That boy has, though." He pointed at Harry.
"He'll lend you one."
"Would you mind taking Professor Lockhart up to the infirmary, too." Dumbledore said to Ron. "I'd like a few more words with Harry ..." Lockhart ambled out. Ron cast a curious look back at Dumbledore and Harry as he closed the door. Dumbledore crossed to one of the chairs by the fire. "Sit down, Harry," he said, and Harry sat, feeling unaccountably nervous. "First of all, Harry, I want to thank you," said Dumbledore, eyes twinkling again. "You must have shown me real loyalty down in the Chamber. Nothing but that could have called Fawkes to you." He stroked the phoenix, which had fluttered down onto his knee.
"Now, I want to ask you one more time, is there anything, anything at all that you would like to tell me?"
"Well, sir, when I was in the chamber, I heard a voice, telling me my destiny approaches, and then when I destroyed the diary, fire shot out of my hands, and I don't know how it happened. Professor, what's happening to me?"
"No, it's too soon," Professor Dumbledore muttered to himself. "I must protect him, at all costs."
"Professor, are you ok?"
"Hmm… oh, yes, m'boy, I'm fine, follow me we have somewhere important to go."
"We're traveling by floo?" Harry asked as Professor Dumbledore made his way to the fireplace.
"Not quite," Professor Dumbledore replied, a smile on his face, and eyes twinkling. "We're going to visit an old friend of mine in America."
"America?"
"Yes, America. Follow me."
Professor Dumbledore pulled out his wand and tapped the bricks next to the fireplace in an order that seemed bizarrely familiar. The bricks opened up, and a box was seen inside. Professor Dumbledore opened the box, and pulled out a gold coin that wasn't a galleon. Harry was confused.
Professor Dumbledore took the gold coin and through it into the fireplace, saying, "Camp Half-Blood."
'Camp Half-Blood? What the bloody hell is Camp Half-Blood?' Harry thought to himself.
Gold flames shot up from where the coin landed in the fireplace.
"Follow me, quickly," Professor Dumbledore said.
Harry obeyed and quickly followed Dumbledore into the flames. Instead of spinning to his destination like normal floo, Harry immediately arrived at the so-called Camp Half-Blood. The sight was one to behold. It was as if one had stepped back in time to Ancient Greece or Rome. There were teenagers sparring with bronze weapons. Archery practice. Obstacle courses. Everything one could imagine from Ancient Greece.
Harry thought to himself, 'This could be fun.'
A/N: And that's it. I wanted to leave off here, and start off where Harry meets Chiron and joins Camp Half-Blood. The next chapter should be up within the week and will end when Harry is "claimed". Please review, good or bad. I like to know how I have done with my writing. This is my first story, however.