Paradox

AN: Thanks to my wonderful beta, Dea!

This chapter has been rewritten as of July '08.

Chapter 2 – Familiar Faces

"You all right, Harry?"

"Ron?" Harry replied weakly, trying to focus on the worried face above him.

"Harry, are you O.K.? You passed out and started shaking…"

"Ron?" was all Harry could manage. His vision instantly cleared. Ron was there, what the hell was going on?

"Harry, what-" Ron began, only to be cut off by Harry scrabbling backwards from his prone position. He had seen him be crucified alive by Voldemort only minutes ago, yet here he was! He was immediately suspicious, yet quietly hopeful of the situation. He took a good long look at his friend and he noticed something was definitely wrong.

"Ron… how old are you?" he asked, disbelief evident in his voice.

"You must have hit your head or something… thirteen, Harry, how could you forget something like that?" was the incredulous reply. Now that he thought about it, Ron's voice was higher than he remembered. Harry's voice was higher than he remembered, high pitched and reedy as opposed to mature and deep. Then it hit him.

This wasn't real. It was an illusion, a branch of magic Voldemort had begun to become proficient in. The idea had been born from a need for a secure prison system, which didn't rely on fickle creatures such as the Dementors; the victim would be trapped inside their own mind. Using the same enchantments cast on pensieves, Voldemort would delve into the victim's memories and extract enough information about an event to form an extraordinarily real hallucination, which would try and keep as close to the "reality" of the situation as possible. The memory generally ended after the significance of it had played out; for example if it was a replay of him getting the Philosopher's Stone it would end with Quirrel's death. Depending on why the magic was being used the memory could repeat or a new one would be selected. Harry thought as an interactive pensieve memory, as it used similar spells, however you were really "there" rather than in the background.

It seemed as though Voldemort had captured him after all; the spells hitting the Time Turner must have knocked him unconscious. Ron was still dead, despite the younger version of him eying Harry warily. Harry was still doomed. He was surprised by how readily he accepted this; it was as though the inevitable had happened, he had only prolonged his defeat by running for five years… he shook himself mentally. He shouldn't think like that. Taking stock of his situation was the priority, and then deciding what to do. Despair led nowhere profitable.

Harry sat up from the ground with a sigh and looked around him. His breath caught in his throat as he realised he was in a corridor in Hogwarts.

Hogwarts. Burned to the ground at the beginning of Voldemort's reign in Harry's seventh year, along with hundreds of staff and pupils. The attack had come without warning; there had been no time to prepare. Voldemort had taken a terrible toll on his own body that day when he had finally smote the castle from the Scottish landscape, but it had been, in the Dark Lord's eyes, definitely worth it. Nearly all potential resistance was gone, in the space of ten minutes of fire and screaming. Most of the Order had been inside or around the castle fighting; it had almost been too easy for Voldemort.

Harry reluctantly wrenched himself out of the memory when he sensed 'Ron' watching him. Harry then got to his feet and dusted himself off. He was wearing regulation Hogwarts uniform and he was struck by how small he was. He was also stick thin and short, totally unlike the tall and broad body he was used to. He fingered his cheek and was unnerved by the absence of a scar or stubble. Looking at Ron's hands was also odd; he had all his fingers now, and there would be no scars like his werewolf bite to mar his body.

"Harry, do you need to visit the Hospital Wing? We can go there on the way to Lockhart's office if you want, mate," Ron began, but Harry cut him off, saying he was fine and it was just a headache. Ron shook his head, as if to clear water from his ears, and kept walking down the corridor.

"If you're OK Harry, and don't fancy hugging anymore people, hurry up! We need to help Lockhart save Ginny!" he called over his shoulder, causing Harry's brain to whirr into action. The illusion was replaying his defeat of the Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets, something which would probably amuse Voldemort. It seemed to him like he was about to go to Lockhart's office with Ron; Harry remembered how that adventure had turned out.

Once the hallucination was over he would probably have to endure unimaginable torture at the hands of Voldemort, then an ignoble death. He knew that if he played along with it, the illusion would eventually repeat or change. His situation did seem hopeless.

Ron was standing a short distance away, looking at Harry with an air of impatience mingled with curiosity. Harry wondered why his friend was in such a hurry, but then remembered what his friend had said about saving Ginny. Ron would stop at nothing to save his baby sister. Voldemort's illusion was eerily accurate; this was how Ron had looked that day, if Harry remembered right. He glanced out of a window-slit set next to a beautiful tapestry. The sun was beginning to sink; even the time of day was correct. The pair of them hurried along in silence, Ron still throwing quizzical looks in Harry's direction, obviously confused about his friend's strange questions in the corridor.

He saw Ron stop up ahead, pausing before a heavy oak door. They could hear heavy thumps and scrapes behind the door; Lockhart was clearing out as he had all those years ago. Harry motioned for Ron to step aside, which he did with a puzzled look on his freckled face. Harry adjusted his glasses, pulled out his wand, and opened the unlocked door of the dimly-lit study.

As he had expected, Lockhart was packing up, and by the looks of it was nearly finished. All the garish posters and pictures of him were taken down, the shelves were clear and he was just finishing clearing out his desk. Lockhart looked up as they entered, flashing Harry a nervous smile.

"Harry… my fellow celebrity! Could you spare me a moment, I'm just a tad busy…" he said lamely, gesturing at the packing around him. Ron moved to pull Harry back out of the room, but he shrugged his friend off.

"I don't think so, Gilderoy. You're going to come with us, right now," Harry said calmly, pointing his wand at the smiling man. He had decided to try to get things over with as quickly as possible, and try to see if he could possibly break the enchantment Voldemort had on him. Not that anyone ever had. Anything to keep his mind off of his probable torture later on.

"Harry, I don't understand quite what you're…"

"Stow it. You're going to hand over your wand and you're going to come down to the Chamber with me and Ron. We know what's in there, and we know how to kill it."

"Harry…" Ron began, looking extremely apprehensive, "do you know what you're saying mate, that headache might be affecting you…"

"I know what I mean Ron, he's a fraud. He's taken credit for what other people have done," Harry turned back to Lockhart, "Haven't you!" he practically shouted, brandishing the wand close to Lockhart's terrified face. Red sparks shot out of the end of it, causing the teacher to practically faint in terror. Faced with someone who was intent on doing him harm, Lockhart was a far cry from his picture-perfect public image. Harry was wishing the fool would move a bit faster, but he gained no little satisfaction from making the man cower, even if it was an illusion.

"It's true! It's all true!" Lockhart wailed, gingerly pulling out his own wand and throwing it pathetically onto the empty desk between them. "I'm sorry, Dumbledore offered me the job on faith, I don't really know anything…"

Harry opened his mouth to order Lockhart to follow him, when Ron interrupted him with a spell.

"Expelliarmus!" Ron yelled, pointing his badly repaired wand at Lockhart's chest. The wand emitted a shower of white sparks and steam, but also threw Lockhart across the room with brutal force. Ron was breathing heavily, anger evident in his face. Lockhart slammed into the back wall with a curse, landing on the floor in an undignified heap, looking dazed. Harry stared at Ron, surprised at how much power the boy's emotions had fed into the misfired spell, and at how much power the illusion had to deviate like that.

"Serves you right, you useless, ungrateful git. And to think I thought you could save Ginny…" Ron muttered, seizing Lockhart's wand and leaving the room without another word. Harry looked after him, open mouthed.

That hadn't happened the first time. Harry had been truly unaware of the depth of Ron's worry about Ginny; he'd been too intent on playing with the illusion of Lockhart. Looking at the aforementioned man with a frown on his face, Harry followed Ron's example and left the room, locking the door as he went. Lockhart wouldn't be playing a part in this adventure.

He swiftly caught up with Ron again, giving him a curt nod to show his approval. Ron looked as though he couldn't speak; his face was contorted with anger at the betrayal. Passing the shining messages daubed onto the wall, they quickly found themselves standing in Myrtle's dingy bathroom. Ron was still breathing as though he had run a marathon; he didn't look ready for speech. Myrtle herself was sitting in a sink, looking characteristically miserable, although she brightened up considerably at the sight of Harry, causing the boy to mentally retch - even as a magically induced spectre she was hideous.

"Hi, Harry," she said with a wave, "what do you want?" Ron opened his mouth, having recovered enough to speak, but Harry cut him off again with a wave of his hand. Ron looked indignant, but nevertheless allowed Harry to talk.

"Myrtle, we're going to go into the Chamber of Secrets. It's in this bathroom. You were killed by the Basilisk inside. Don't tell anyone, on pain of… well I'll get you in trouble." His speech was short and to the point, the words of someone in control of the situation, which shut Myrtle and Ron up immediately. Harry crossed the bathroom to the wall of cracked sinks, intent on locating the tap with a snake on. Finding it, he beckoned a stunned Ron over.

"There. That tap; see the snake on the side? I'm going to speak in Parseltounge, which will open the door."

"How do you know all this?" asked Ron, looking at his friend incredulously. Harry laughed softly at the accuracy of the illusion.

"Just trust me," he replied with a determined scowl as he stared at the tap. The next words Harry spoke were in Parseltounge; a hissing, strangled noise. The tap glowed with blinding light and spun, as it had done in his second year, and the entire sink slowly moved out of sight to reveal a cavernous pipe. Ron gulped at the spectacle, whereas Harry just looked bored. He had seen all this before; he just wanted to have his rematch with Riddle so he could see if there was an escape to his mental prison.

"Go ahead, unless you want me to take the lead?" he asked Ron with a small smile. Ron looked positively terrified, but he jumped into the chute without the need for further encouragement. Harry followed suit, trying to enjoy the twisting journey into the depths of the school. He landed gracefully on his feet at the end of the pipe, in stark contrast to Ron, who was sprawled on the tunnel floor. The passageway to the chamber was unlike the Hogwarts corridors, dank and damp, whereas the ones above were warm and dry. Harry paused to haul Ron to his feet and dust him off, and then set off down the tunnel, lighting his wand as he went.

The pair continued in terse silence for a number of minutes, skirting a massive piece of shed snake-skin, until they reached the ornate doorway into the Chamber. Harry had spent the journey debating whether to let Ron come with him; Riddle and the Basilisk could still hurt him if he was careless, and having a friend that Harry had just seen murdered didn't seem like the best plan for ensuing concentration.

"Ron, I need you to stay here. I think I should do this alone."

"Harry, no way. Ginny is my sister too!" Ron exclaimed, his ears tinged red. Harry rolled his eyes and took the simpler option of stunning Ron, catching him and laying him gently on the ground next to the door. As an afterthought he cast some cushioning charms along Ron's head and back, as the illusion was too like his late friend to let him simply leave him like that. Satisfied that Ron was sleeping comfortably, Harry turned to face the doors.

They, too, were just as he remembered. Massive intertwined serpents set into the rock-face, camouflaging the thick gates into the Chamber. Harry pulled his wand from his robes and spoke the Parseltounge to open them.

Time to see an old friend… he thought maliciously as the gates rumbled open, prepared to wreak havoc on the visions Voldemort was sending him. The Chamber itself was wreathed in darkness, but that didn't faze Harry. He strode between the pillars, as confidant as he could be in his scrawny body. The base of Salazar's egotistically huge statue rapidly came into view, with Ginny lying at its ornately-carved feet.

Ginny. She had burned in Hogwarts, along with nearly all his school friends and teachers. He could still see Hogwarts on fire when he closed his eyes; the rain that had poured down that day doing nothing to put out the magical flames; silhouettes of people against the windows, screaming and running…

He shook himself slightly, focusing on the task in hand. Ginny was there, the diary horcrux was next to her… Riddle would no doubt materialise and try to taunt him as he approached. Harry formulated a plan of attack in his mind; insult Riddle a bit, summon Fawkes, get Gryffindor's sword and then kill the Basilisk in as flashy a way as he could. And then wake up face the fury and torture of the most powerful Dark Lord in history.

Piece of cake, really.

Keeping his plan at the forefront of his mind, Harry walked up to the base of the statue, sparing a glance to see if Ginny was OK. She actually looked better than he remembered, a product of him and Ron getting to the Chamber quicker this time round. His eyes flicked around him, always moving. He hadn't had any problems the first time he had been in the Chamber, but he couldn't trust this particular illusion Voldemort was casting.

"She won't wake," said a soft voice behind him. Harry calmly turned and addressed its owner.

"Riddle. I know that you're a Horcrux so dispense with the pleasantries, don't try to steal my wand and get on with summoning your familiar. I don't have time for games."

The ghostly form of Tom Riddle, who was standing a short distance from Harry, blinked in surprise. Harry had just rattled off a string of information he thought was secret, from his name to his nature as a horcrux, and had pre-empted his idea to take the boys wand when he was distracted. It seemed he had been wrong-footed somewhere along the line.

"Well, Harry, it seems you're very confidant. Virtually unarmed and alone, hoping to pit yourself against Slytherin's heir? Do you even know who I really am?" Riddle blustered, trying to regain some dignity. Harry gave him a withering look and raised his wand arm, pointing it at the ceiling.

"Try not to embarrass yourself further, Voldemort." He looked at the Chamber's dark ceiling, completely ignoring Riddle. "Fawkes! I need you! I need Dumbledore's help!" he cried, praying the phoenix would come. Harry was strong, but it was always good to have help. He knew that Fawkes would come only if someone would have loyalty to Dumbledore; if fighting for the old man's cause essentially alone wasn't loyalty, Harry didn't know what was. Harry wasn't entirely sure if he would die in reality if he died in the vision he was experiencing, so he wanted to take no chances.

As if on cue, Fawkes burst into the Chamber in a flash of fire, the Sorting Hat clutched in his steely talons. He let loose an uplifting snatch of song and swooped down onto Harry's shoulder. Harry promptly seized the Hat from Fawkes, jamming it onto his head.

"Ah, Mister Potter… wait… what is this…you aren't the same child… Hogwarts burning? Voldemort? What is this?" the Hat's normally sly voice cried, in genuine distress. Harry was puzzled by its outburst, it should have acted normally in the illusion Voldemort had placed upon him, but put it out of his mind when the sword of Gryffindor promptly cracked onto his head, making him see stars. Wincing and rubbing his crown, he withdrew the sword from the hat and, tossing the tattered headwear aside, turned to face a stunned Riddle.

"So… a sword and a bird. Dumbledore really does try to look after his own, doesn't he Potter. Don't you know that Slytherin's monster can kill you with but a glance?" the spectre mocked, obviously perturbed by Harry's knowledge and confidence.

"Just summon the Basilisk, Riddle. I don't have time for games." Harry strode past the shocked phantom and turned to face Slytherin's statue. When no summoning was forthcoming, Harry decided to try it himself.

He spoke the ancient summoning: "Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four."

As he had hoped, the mouth of Slytherin's grotesque monkey-like face began to open; the Basilisk began to stir within its depths. Harry moved to the base of the statue, next to Ginny's prone form, and raised his wand on impulse, pointing it at the entrance, the sword of Gryffindor clenched tightly in his other hand.

The Basilisk poked its head out, eyes closed against the bright torchlight of the Chamber.

"Confringo!" Harry yelled, falling back towards a pillar as Fawkes streaked towards the Basilisk. The snake was struck on the head by the Blasting curse, sending it spiralling out of the statue to hit the Chamber floor with a muffled thud. Harry stood behind the pillar he had chosen, breathing heavily. Then he heard the sound he had wanted to hear – Fawkes screeching and the Basilisk hissing and spitting in rage. He risked a peek round the side of his cover to see the colossal beast on the floor to the right of the statue and Ginny, writhing in pain and blinking over ruined eye sockets.

"You can still smell him! Hunt him down!" Riddle hissed in Parseltounge. The Basilisk paused, as Harry strode confidently out from behind the pillar, sword in one hand, wand in the other, both raised and ready to fight.

"Come on then," he said calmly to the Basilisk. The creature started and turned towards Harry. Harry raised his wand and paused. The Basilisk opened its mouth to screech its displeasure, and then Harry struck.

"Telum Conicio!" he yelled, rolling to the side as the Basilisk began to move rapidly towards him. A grey mass of energy burst forth from his wand and solidified into a iron spike, which shot into the Basilisk's mouth and clean out the other side. The ancient beast paused for a moment, a fist-sized hole in the base of its skull, before continuing its assault. Harry gulped and ran back through the Chamber, ducking to the side behind another pillar. The Basilisk paused for a second, listening to hurried orders from Riddle, before continuing to search for Harry.

Harry waited for as long as he dared before whirling out from the side of his pillar to see the tail of the beast at his feet. He gripped Gryffindor's sword with his left hand and brought it down onto the snake's tail, hacking at the skin repeatedly. The Basilisk turned from where it was searching in an instant, its fangs bared and ready to strike. Harry flicked his wand and shouted a banishing charm, putting as much of his energy into it as he could given his panic. The creature's head flicked to the side and slammed into a column, its mouth open in pain. Harry saw his opening, and decided to end it as quickly as he could.

"Telum Conicio!" he yelled again, pointing into the creature's mouth. The grey light shot from his wand and solidified again, before slamming and ricocheting off of one of the Basilisk's fangs, which was slick with blood. The spike penetrated the roof of its mouth, embedding itself deep into the monster's brain. The creature spasmed, shuddered, and began to convulse slightly, twitching with small movements all along its body. Harry banished it in front of the statue to show Riddle, who was red with rage.

Then he saw, to his discomfort, that the fang which had been hit had cracked and had started to glow slightly after being hit by the spell he had used. Harry heard a high pitched whine begin to grow in his ear, as the Basilisk's fangs began to glow brighter.

"You fool! You mixed two highly potent magics!" Riddle yelled over the whining noise. Harry swore under his breath and cast the strongest banishing spell he knew with as much power as he could, sending the Basilisk rocketing upwards towards the mouth of Slytherin's statue, the fangs still glowing with an unearthly light.

Time seemed to slow as Harry muttered another incantation straight after the first, throwing up a high-level shield around himself and Ginny, to protect from whatever was about to happen.

The effect was spectacular. The entire head of Slytherin's statue was eradicated from existence, the Basilisk blown apart under the incredible magical discharge of the Killing Curse and Basilisk venom. Riddle had begun to scream as soon as Harry uttered the words, knowing what was coming, but he was drowned out by the explosion and the subsequent sound of the debris hitting the stone floor. Harry grunted as the shield took hits from falling rocks and bits of Basilisk, exerting more effort to keep the silver barrier active. The ancient foundations of Hogwarts seemed to shake in complaint against the reaction's sheer strength. The noise was incredible, even through the shield.

After what seemed like an eternity, the dust cleared. Slytherin's statue had been beheaded, and there was no longer a Basilisk inhabiting it. The Chamber itself was covered in loose rocks, blood and dust, like a fine layer of sand. Several of the snake-engraved pillars were cracked and pitted; they didn't look like they would survive another impact of any strength. Ginny and Harry, conversely, were completely fine, standing and lying respectively in a little circle of clean stone where the shield had protected them. Fawkes and the Sorting hat hadn't moved outside Harry's shield during the spell's casting, although the phoenix was giving Harry a very piercing stare, as if trying to work something out. Bizarrely the bird was completely unperturbed by the level of destruction Harry had wreaked, but he knew so little of phoenixes he paid this no thought.

He took a deep breath and knelt down to check Ginny, ignoring Fawkes' protests at the movement. She still hadn't woken up, which meant that the diary had survived the explosion, even if Riddle had seemingly vanished. Harry scanned the room with a practiced eye, and soon picked it out, lying innocuously beside a pillar in the middle of the wrecked room. He instructed Fawkes to stay with Ginny and retrieved the book, placing it on the floor in front of him in the middle of the Chamber. He knew once it was destroyed the vision would end, and he would have to face the Dark Lord's wrath, or another scenario.

Without a further thought, he grabbed a sharp looking rock and dipped it in as much Basilisk blood and venom as he could gather from the surrounding area. Then he stabbed the diary, echoing his actions from the first time he'd been to the Chamber. Like the first time, it screamed and blackened at the edges, becoming just a normal diary. Harry then dropped Gryffindor's sword and screwed up his eyes, preparing to wake up.

Surprisingly, he didn't. Harry opened his eyes again, feeling faintly stupid standing there with his skinny arms outstretched. Fawkes trilled gently behind him, telling him that Ginny had awoken. Harry had no idea what was happening; he was beginning to suspect this wasn't an illusion spell, but he had no idea what it was in that case. Ginny had begun to stir at the base of the statue. He left Gryffindor's sword lying in the dust and sprinted over to his friend as she opened her eyes with a groan.

Ginny blinked blearily, trying to work out where she was. Upon seeing Harry, she burst into tears, even though he was unblemished. Harry knelt and quickly hugged her, remembering how guilty she had felt the first time he had rescued her, and wanting to reassure her of his wellbeing.

"Harry… Harry it was me – I tried to tell you earlier but Percy… he possessed me Harry… the diary… what's happened here? Why is everything covered in dust? What happened to that statue? Where's Riddle? Where's Ron?" Harry didn't know what he preferred, the questions or the crying. With a quick squeeze he broke off the hug and surveyed the girl in front of him. Her freckled face was red from crying, and her shiny red hair hung in front of her eyes like a curtain. He was struck how young she looked, as he had with Ron. The Ginny he had known stood tall and strong, full of attitude and laughter. This one just looked lonely. Emotions welled up inside him. He crushed them without prejudice, needing to keep in control of the situation and think clearly.

He didn't say anything, instead pulling her to her feet and checking her over. Ginny stopped her questions and that point and went very still, her sobs beginning to fade.

"Are you all right?" Harry asked finally, scanning the Chamber for any remaining danger.

"I… I think I'm fine… oh god I'm in so much trouble, aren't I?" she began to sob again, quickly getting Harry's arm wet. He put his arm around Ginny's shoulder with a smile, desperate to stop her crying. Ginny went very red and silent at this and refused to look him in the eye; he remembered her crush on him and congratulated himself on his quick thinking. Anything to stop her crying.

"Lets just go get Ron, I'm afraid I had to stun him outside, he was too hysterical to come with me," Harry lied. He still had no idea what was going on, but was determined to act normal before he could talk to Dumbledore about what was happening to him, as it didn't seem to be an illusion. If this was somehow real, and the Time Turner had malfunctioned, then he would have a lot of questions to ask the headmaster. The pair walked slowly out of the chamber, Harry's arm around Ginny's shoulder. Harry collected the remains of the horcrux, the sorting hat and Gryffindor's sword as they went. Ginny went very wide-eyed at the sight of the sword, but still seemed unable to speak after Harry had put his arm around her. Fawkes floated gently overhead, singing softly.

Ron was still lying peacefully by the entrance to the chamber, the cushioning charms keeping him from touching the hard tunnel floor. Ginny, again, went wide-eyed at the sight of her sleeping brother but was placated when Harry revived him. Ron, however, wasn't as cooperative.

As soon as he awoke he began to let off a string of insults at Harry, trying to grab the bottom of his robes from the floor. The majority of the curses were about going after Ginny alone and knocking him out, and the irony of his reaction to Harry's swearing earlier wasn't lost on Harry himself. Ron's imaginative tirade was cut off at the sight of his sister, who was looking horrified at the variety and range of Ron's profanities.

"G-Ginny?" exclaimed Ron, scrambling to his feet and using Harry for support. "Ginny? I don't believe it! Harry saved you!" he yelled, his anger at Harry completely forgotten. He grabbed Ginny in a tight embrace, missing the pair of them holding hands. Ginny remained mute, but returned Ron's hug. Harry looked away from the reunion, feeling embarrassed and also unable to look at Ron. He still didn't know what as going on with the Time Turner, and was trying to keep a handle his emotions until it was all sorted out. He had seen that happy face, just a bit older-looking, be tortured to death before his eyes. Now he suspected that this bizarre situation might be real, talking to his friend seemed impossible. What was he going to say to someone he had seen die in front of his eyes?

Its not like I haven't had to put up with loss before, Harry thought bitterly, stalking off down the dark tunnel and leaving the Weasleys behind. He idly kicked a rock, ricocheting off of the tunnel wall and causing some gravel fall from the roof into his hair. Ron called for him to wait, and an alarming rumbling noise caused him to pause and look back at them, still deep in his angry thoughts.

He was so preoccupied that he didn't even feel it when the roof of the unstable tunnel collapsed on top of him, burying him in a roar of rock and dirt.