A/N: Not mine, the Harry Potter Universe as always belongs to J.K. Rowling and all the other affiliates.

Chapter Three – Greatest of the Hogwarts Four

Harry sat on the front stoop of Number Four Privet Drive. He was rather deep in thought. He hadn't had much time to adjust to being eleven again and he hadn't given much thought as to how it had happened. But now he had much time to think, too much time to think.

The Dursleys were inside doing what they did best, ignoring him. Harry stared out into the street unseeingly, trying to remember every detail of how he had died and when he had arrived in the past. He remembered the broken mirror. But he was sure that had nothing to do with it. He had already figured out how he had gotten pulled into his body; the shards from the Philosopher's Stone.

Harry looked at his right palm. No one had noticed and Harry hadn't either until he was washing up that morning before breakfast. There were three blood red shards of the stone embedded just under the skin in the center of his palm. They formed a perfect triangle and were barely noticeable without a bright light. The lighting in the bathroom had made them visible, just as the afternoon sunlight was making them visible now. In the dark or dim, he couldn't tell they were there at all. He couldn't even feel them.

The Philosopher's Stone had pulled him into his body. It made sense as the stone gave life, not that Harry would be able to explain it any further than that. But it still didn't explain why he had become a ghost. Sure, he had loads of unfinished business, such as his whole life, but still he had nothing left to live for, not really. It was a sad fact, but he had been praying for death near the end. So why did he turn into a ghost instead of crossing over into full death? How did his ghost end up in the past for that matter? He was sure these questions would plague him for years to come.

"Boy!" Vernon shouted from within and Harry winced slightly before he lazily got to his feet. First thing was first, that name had to go. He had been back less than a week and already he couldn't take his relative's treatment of him any longer, even if in the end, they had given their lives for his.

Harry pulled his wand from his long sleeve shirt, just in case. He held loosely to it, still disgusted with it, with what he had done. It didn't feel right in his hand anymore, not like it used to. He'd taken to wearing long sleeves to hide his scars, he already had too many questions from Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey; he didn't need any more. Harry was just glad other marks that had adorned his body hadn't followed him into the past. Harry would like to see himself try and explain those.

Harry opened the front door and walked in, calmly closing the door behind him. "Yes, Uncle Vernon?" Harry said monotone, his wand hidden behind his back.

"Petunia has a list of chores for you and I have a few myself," Vernon sneered, and handed out a piece of paper that was covered front and back in tiny handwriting, far too much for anyone to do in even a week, if they weren't a wizard that is.

Harry took the paper with his left hand and looked it over. He was about to complain, but then he smirked getting an idea, a trick to the system he just had to try out. "I'll have it done in an hour," Harry said nonchalantly and started to walk away, but turned back to his slack-jawed uncle. "Uncle Vernon, my name is Harry, by the way. Please don't call me boy, it's disrespectful." Harry walked away before his uncle had time to react. He knew that wouldn't be the last time he heard that from him, but it would soon be, even if he had to threaten his uncle into submission. Being called boy was one of the only things he wouldn't tolerate; it brought up too many bad, painful memories and he already had enough of those to contend with.

Harry walked up to Dudley's second bedroom, his room now. His trunk was only with him because he had lugged it up to his room faster than his uncle could think to lock it in the cupboard. Harry opened his trunk and pulled out his cauldron, and five ingredients. Thanking the Weasley twins for their brilliance. Apparently a simple modified Ageing Potion, the same one they'd used to attempt to get into the Tri-Wizard Tournament, would allow for underage wizardry, because technically and temporarily, he was of age. Sure, magic would be used at his residence, but who's to say he doesn't have an above aged friend?

Harry had always wondered something about the age monitoring. He'd seen kids younger than him at the Quidditch World Cup and Diagon Ally use small amounts of magic and hadn't gotten in trouble, except for maybe by their parents. It had always been a thought, a chancy thought, but what if because they were in such a high concentrated area of magic that they couldn't be monitored. Harry decided that he'd have to test that theory someday.

Harry had become rather… adept at brewing with Snape not looming over his shoulder, and he hoped to put his rather limited skills and memory to use in the man's Potion's class that year, but now he was on a mission. It didn't take long to prepare and make the potion and Harry smelled the nauseating concoction before he held his breath and downed a good quarter of a vial, much more than just the one-drop the Weasley twins needed. He felt a slight tingling, but otherwise nothing outward changed, though he would love to get the aftertaste out of his mouth.

Harry picked up his wand, the wand he had grown to hate and pointed it at his cauldron. "Now for the test, Scourgify," Harry cast the spell and his cauldron was swept clean a second later. Harry noted that the spell was rather low powered, not up to his usual standard, maybe because he wasn't of his majority yet. Harry held his breath and waited, and waited, and waited. Letting out his breath he laughed to himself. "Geniuses they really are geniuses," he said to himself; and with such simple ingredients as well.

Harry pointed his wand at the left over ingredients. "Pack," he said clearly with a flick of his wand and everything fell into his trunk neatly. He mentally thanked Tonks' for revealing that spell to him, and Mrs. Weasley for teaching it to him properly.

Harry grabbed the list from his bed and looked it over again. Practically skipping down the stairs, Harry went to the backyard. He first looked around himself carefully, to make sure no snoopy neighbors were watching, and then he drew his wand through the air in an intricate pattern that he barely managed.

A simple rune formed in the lawn momentarily and then the entire lawn was cleanly cut a moment later. The plants were all weeded and several new growths were even visible. Harry smiled. It had been Hermione's insistence that he learn some basic runes. They hadn't come in handy in his past life, but he was sure to make use of them this time. Harry next pointed his wand at the fence, which painted itself, he did the same to the shed, and then he set about doing the rest of his chores before the potion wore off, making sure that he wasn't seen in the process.

Exactly an hour later, Harry sat down in the kitchen, just in time for dinner, with his list all checked off, and finished. He handed it to his uncle. "Finished, anything else I can help you with, Uncle Vernon?" Harry asked politely.

"That's impossible! There is no way anyone could have gotten through that list in an hour, boy!" Vernon stood up, but Harry just looked up at his uncle's reddening face with a cool glare in his eyes.

"You can certainly check my work, Uncle Vernon. Everything is done. And don't call me boy!" Harry said, hissing the last words angrily as a final warning before he stood up and left the kitchen, dinner forgotten.

Harry had a restless night, full of dreams and nightmares. He thought his total amount of actual sleep was maybe bordering on an hour, if that. The rest of the week wasn't any better for him, and to top it all off, he had nearly lost his cool with his Uncle. But somehow, he had managed to walk away before he had actually blown up, or blown something up.

By the next Monday, he was dragging himself through his chores, which he was doing the Muggle way, as his potion stores were running low. He didn't know his past would have such a huge effect on his subconscious; he'd never had such nightmares before, even after his capture… and torture. Sleep was something he desperately needed, but he was as well lacking the ingredients needed to make a Dreamless Sleep Potion, not to mention he didn't have the directions to do so and it was a very complicated potion.

As Harry finalized his plans to head back to Hogwarts and dispatch with the Basilisk, he was quickly losing his ability to think and do things with a rational mind. His lack of sleep was only the tip of the iceberg. He'd developed a slight fever, which constantly either had him way too hot or freezing and not even the Muggle medicine he'd pilfered from the bathroom cabinet was helping.

Harry stirred the contents of the cauldron a final time and blew out the flame under it. He ladled the finished potion and sniffed at it. It didn't smell as it should and the color was off slightly, but Harry, being tired and a little annoyed from an earlier incident with his uncle, gulped it down anyways and then he waited. The tingling sensation ran over him and he picked up his wand. "Wingardium Leviosa," he said quietly and tiredly and a nearby textbook floated into the air. Harry set it down.

After a few minutes of waiting, Harry declared he wasn't going to get an owl from the Ministry. He bottled some more of the potion before he cleaned his cauldron and replaced everything back into his trunk. Then he grabbed his Invisibility Cloak, his empty book bag, and the spare bottle of Ageing Potion, and walked out of his room. The house was empty except for him. His relatives had gone out for the day; all Harry had to do was make sure he was back before them. To his annoyance, this was the first day since he had gotten back that he could do this and have it go unnoticed. He was cutting it awfully close to the day Dobby was to arrive and try and make his home life more of a living hell.

Harry walked into the backyard and looked around briefly before he threw his Invisibility Cloak over himself and concentrated. His younger body was not going to like him for this, but he didn't want to take the chance of anyone recognizing him if he tried the Knightbus. He disappeared with a crack and reappeared in front of the gates of Hogwarts, where he was quite suddenly, violently sick.

It took a few minutes for Harry to recover from the Apparation, push himself unsteadily back to his feet, and check himself over. Luck was on his side; he hadn't Splinched himself or lost anything. Harry looked through the closed gates and up the lawn to the school.

"Hello Hogwarts," he said and put his right hand on the gates. A brown glow emanated from the gates and then they slowly creaked open. Harry smirked slightly. Being Protector, even though he hadn't been named yet, did have its advantages. Harry pulled the Invisibility Cloak tighter over himself and started up the lawn for the school.

As Harry pushed opened the Entrance Hall door, he could swear he saw someone following him, but when he looked back, there was no one there. Harry closed the door and continued silently to the second floor corridor. He walked the length stopping every now and then to look behind him. He still had a feeling that he was being followed, but he chalked it up to paranoia and the multitude of portraits that couldn't see past his cloak.

Harry finally came to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom and he looked over his shoulder once more before continuing inside. He pulled the cloak off, stuffed it into his bag, and then walked to the sink he knew opened the way into the chamber.

"What are you doing in here? This is a girl's bathroom," Myrtle said crossly from her floating position above him. Harry didn't even glance at her.

He looked at the tap and the snake etched into it. "Open," he commanded in Parseltongue. The familiar white light appeared and then the tap began to spin. There was a grinding sound and then slowly the sink disappeared into the floor, exposing the large pipe that led into the chambers below.

"Wow, how did you do that? Not even I knew that was there and I'm in the pipes quite often," Myrtle said, twirling her hair around her finger and tilting her head sideways.

Harry smiled up at her. "I know a lot of things. Nice chatting with you." Harry waved and jumped into the pipe without a second thought.

He wasn't quite sure how he was going to pull this off, but somehow he'd make sure that the Basilisk would not be a problem anymore. Harry wiped his hands on his pants as he exited the slimy pipe. It was even dirtier then he remembered it. Of course, there hadn't been a Basilisk using it all year.

Harry raised his wand and was about to use the Lumos Spell but suddenly the chamber was full of light from a row of torches that he had never noticed before. They led deeper into the tunnel, towards the main chamber. Harry raised an eyebrow and then followed it. There was no snakeskin this time, which meant that the Basilisk had shed it during the year, and of course, the passage way was free from rocks as there had been no cave-in. Though the ceiling was still cracked and looked rather dangerous in places.

It didn't take him long to reach the true entrance to the Chamber of Secrets and one simple, "open" in Parseltongue had the door opened. Harry looked into the chamber as torches lining the walls sparked to life. He moved into the chamber and down the rows of snake entwined pillars towards the giant image of Salazar Slytherin.

He stood at the base and chewed at his bottom lip in thought. His wand was gripped tightly in his hand from the memory of the first time he had been down here. Harry looked up and down the large statue. Here came one of the flaws in his plan, the last time he had been down here was when he was twelve, and he couldn't for the life of him remember what the younger Tom Riddle had said to open the mouth of Slytherin's statue.

"Open," he hissed… nothing. Well he was the only Parseltongue besides the Dark Lord; if he got rid of the Diary then no one would be down in the chamber at all. Problem solved, now why hadn't he thought of that before?

A cold shiver ran up his spine and Harry wrapped his arms around himself and turned to leave the chamber in annoyance from his useless trip. He'd gotten a couple of steps when he heard a hissing sound coming from behind him. "Heir of Slytherin, Greatest of the Hogwarts Four, do you seek entrance into the Chambers of Salazar?"

Harry stopped and very slowly turned around. He relaxed slightly when there was no one behind him. "The Chambers of Salazar?" he asked. This was new; he didn't know there were other rooms in the Chamber of Secrets. There was no reply. "Um… yes," he tentatively hissed.

A sliding noise alerted him to the opening in the floor just before he dropped from the room above as the floor disappeared beneath his feet. He landed with an audible 'oomph' on a green-carpeted floor. Lights had lit all around him and that was when he noticed that he was in a large sitting room, and of course he noticed the stairs that led up to the chamber above. "Those would have been handy coming down," he mumbled.

Harry pushed himself off the floor and looked around. There were other rooms branching off the one he was in, but before he had a chance to choose one of the doors, a distinct slithering sound caught his attention. Harry spun around without thinking to be face to face with Slytherin's really large Basilisk. Harry fell backwards and looked wide-eyed at the large serpent. Then he realized that he wasn't dead, or dying, or even being maimed or eaten.

"Hello, young Heir of Slytherin. Do not be afraid I will not harm you," the Basilisk hissed and Harry nodded; his eyes still wide, and his hand tightening around his wand.

"Hello," Harry replied tightly as he got to his feet shakily.

"My name is Mortedolv, what are you called, Young Heir?"

Harry raised an eyebrow after spelling that in his head and wincing slightly at the mere thought. "He named you after himself?"

"If you are speaking of the one who thought he could control me, no. He stole my name and used it for his own. My master Salazar named me."

Harry wanted to laugh, the Dark Lord had named himself after Slytherin's pet. Had he thought the large snake would have found it funny he would have, but instead he kept it to himself. He didn't want to offend him while they were on such good terms. "Oh," Harry simply said back. "I'm Harry."

"It is good to meet you, Harry," Mortedolv hissed. "Would you like to see the rest of the chamber?"

Harry thought about it for all of half a second, and then he nodded his head and put his wand away. This was an opportunity of a lifetime; of course he wanted to see the rest of the chamber. He couldn't believe he was calmly, well almost calmly; standing there talking to a Basilisk he had been forced to kill in his past. Harry shook his head to himself; best not to think about that.

Mortedolv moved past Harry and he followed him into another room, his eyes lit up at what he saw. He may never be as bookish as Hermione was, but he had to admit that even he would be spending much time in this Library. Harry could barely restrain himself from running to the copious volumes of books. Harry ran his hand along the spines in amazement. There weren't only Slytherin's writings, but the other Founders had placed something there as well. They were even divided into category, first by Founder and then by subject. These books were priceless and Harry was certain that the world hadn't seen any of these books since the Founders' themselves were alive. Harry pulled several books off the shelves, marveling at the ingeniousness of preservation charms, and then settled himself in a nearby chair, the rest of the chamber forgotten.

Hours later Harry sat in the same big puffy armchair he had settle in earlier. He had a large tome in his lap and Mort, as Harry had taken to calling him with permission of course, was wrapped in a giant coil beside the chair. He'd learned a lot about the snake at his side, including why he wasn't dead after looking him in the eyes. Mortedolv had a second lid on his eyes, which allowed him to see without killing or petrifying anyone. Handy that.

Harry had also learned much about Salazar Slytherin, and his opinion about him had changed dramatically. It had also confused him greatly about the Dark Lord's motives for being the way he was. It turned out that Salazar had no major qualms with Muggles and Muggleborns. He did have a few problems with the witch hunting's and the way the Muggles of the time feared Wizards, but he understood it as just that, fear, and that was why he pushed for the two to be separated. But he also believed that those Muggles and Muggleborns that could cope with Wizards had every right to the Wizarding World as the Wizards did. So what made everyone think Salazar Slytherin was against Muggles and Muggleborns? And if the Dark Lord had been in the Chamber of Salazar before, why was he sprouting about ridding the world of anyone not of Pureblood under Slytherin's name? It didn't make sense.

"Mort?" asked Harry lowering the book with an intense frown on his face.

"Yes, Harry?" Mort yawned and looked up at him. Harry blinked. Snakes could yawn?

"I don't understand. If Salazar didn't dislike Muggles and Muggleborns, then why does the world think he did? Why do they think he was a Dark Wizard, when there were so many Dark Wizards that he was against at the time. He helped build this school, yet everyone is so against him. It doesn't make any sense," Harry rambled on in Parseltongue.

Mort simply blinked at him. "I do not know. I did not understand the boy, Tom, either, which is why he never saw these chambers."

Harry sat up quickly from his curled up position in the chair. "Tom Riddle never came into Salazar's Chambers?"

Mort nodded. "I did not like the feel of him. He was dark and had less of a soul than a normal man and he had the scent of someone who had killed before. So I hid the Chambers of Salazar from him."

"I've killed before," Harry said distractedly with a distant glare in his eyes. "I was forced to; every time." A tear slid down from the corner of his eye at the memory of what he had been forced to do. He felt flushed and faint as the memories assaulted him. "Ginny…" he would never forgive himself.

Mort uncurled slightly and nudged Harry with his giant head. "Yes, but not like him. He was not forced. He tried to control me. He threatened me with death. I made sure everyone he sent me to kill, did not die, just sleep… until the last. I had not meant to kill her. I had meant to stop him, but she had gotten in the way."

Harry didn't know why, maybe it was adolescent emotions taking over, or maybe it was just his extreme tiredness and growing fever, but he wrapped his arms around the snake's neck, seeking comfort from the giant serpent he had been forced to kill in the past.

Harry didn't know when he had fallen asleep, but when he woke up it was in a large, very comfortable, four-poster bed and he could feel that his fever had grown quite a bit and he was achy all over. Mort was curled up on the floor of the large bedroom and he lifted his head when Harry suddenly sat up and looked at his watch and swore a string of vulgarities in English and Parseltongue. He'd been gone far too long.

Harry put his head in his hand at a brief dizziness and then once recovered started muttering at the realization of the situation he could possibly be in. "They're going to kill me; all of them. Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, Professor Dumbledore, Hermione, Ron, Mrs. Weasley… Hell I won't be surprised if Hagrid shows up as well," Harry muttered switching unconsciously between Parseltongue and English in his panicking state.

"Who's going to kill you?" Mort sounded alarmed.

Harry suddenly laughed and shook his head the panic disappearing completely. "No one," Harry sighed tiredly."I've just been here too long. They're going to notice I'm gone, if they haven't already. I just hope Professor Dumbledore isn't having me watched…" Harry stopped. "Moody!" Harry declared in English as he jumped out of bed, his bare feet hit the glacial like floor and he jumped back on the bed with a rather girly yelp. "How'd you get my shoes off?"

Mort seemed to be laughing at him; at least Harry thought that was what the weird hissing sound was. "Very carefully," he finally said and nudged Harry's shoes to him with his tail.

Harry reached to the floor and put on his shoes and socks, which he found still in the bed, back on his feet. He left the bedroom and entered into the main sitting room, Mort following behind him. "I've got to go. I believe I was followed here and I'm not supposed to be at the school," Harry told Mort distractedly. "I'll be back again in a few weeks when school starts, I can't risk coming back sooner." He said hurriedly.

"Are you going to be all right, Harry?"

Harry stopped and looked back at the giant serpent; he smiled softly to his new friend and nodded. "Yes."

--

Harry, having discovered the stairs that had led back up to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom from the chamber, peered around cautiously before exiting into the corridor. Myrtle had followed him out and Harry turned back, with his Invisibility Cloak firmly in place.

"Myrtle, can I ask you not to tell anyone about me being here?" he asked quietly, looking up at the ghost who he discovered could see him through his cloak.

Myrtle tilted her head in thought for a moment and then sighed. "All right, I suppose, but you must promise to come back and visit me again," she said sweetly.

Harry nodded. "Of course I'll come back. Nice seeing you Myrtle, bye." Harry waved and started swiftly down the hall. He didn't see Dumbledore watching him from a concealed hallway nearby, and he didn't hear him following after him.

Harry made his way quickly to the other side of the school. He stopped just outside the Hospital Wing and put his ear to the door. He wasn't going to leave without the second thing he had come for, even if it meant taking longer getting back. Hearing nothing from within, Harry opened the door and slipped into the darkened ward. He slowly made his way to the other end of the hall where he knew Madam Pomfrey kept her Potion stores.

He opened the cabinet and shuffled a few bottles around before he found what he was looking for. Taking three Dreamless Sleep Potions from the shelves, Harry placed them into his bag and then he pulled out a Strengthening Potion of maximum strength. "This should do," he whispered to himself as he carefully looked at the label, and then placed it too in his bag. Harry closed the cabinet and turned around to leave but stopped and turned back and opened the cabinet again. He pulled out a vial of fever reducer and downed it, placing the empty vial into his pack. He walked straight past a frowning Dumbledore without seeing him and continued out of the school.

As he reached the edge of the darkened school property, he pulled his spare ageing potion from his bag and downed the contents. He concentrated and then Apparated with an audible crack. Dumbledore stood on the steps of Hogwarts watching his student go, completely bewildered and worried by his young Gryffindor's actions that day.

Harry appeared queasily in his backyard and looked around carefully, more carefully than before, as he suspected that his house was being watched. He pulled off his cloak and started into the house, stuffing the cloak into his bag as he went. There was a loud screech and a crash that sounded like dishes hitting the floor. Harry ran into the kitchen and immediately stopped himself from pulling his wand out.

"Get that ruddy bird out of my house, boy!" Vernon was a dangerous shade of red and Harry scrambled towards the owl.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon." Harry grabbed at the tawny owl and grabbed the letter in its claws. He made to stuff the letter into his book bag as the owl flew away out the window, but his uncle grabbed it from him.

"What's this?" Uncle Vernon ripped the envelope open.

"It's for me, not you!" Harry complained and tried to take the letter back. Harry's stomach dropped as he watched a malevolent smirk develop on his uncle's face as he scanned the letter.

Suddenly the letter was thrust into Harry's hands. "Read it!" Uncle Vernon hissed; a delighted glint in his eyes. Harry opened the letter, "Out loud!" Dudley and Aunt Petunia both looked at Harry as he stared back at his Uncle and then looked down and read the letter.

"Umm, Dear Mr. Potter, We have just received intelligence that unauthorized Apparation was used at your residence at twenty-five minutes passed eight…" Harry's eyes widened and he glanced at his uncle before he continued. "As you know, underage wizards are not permitted to perform spells outside school, and further spell work on your part may lead to expulsion from said school. Furthermore; Apparation without an authorized license is illegal, if you continue, serious charges may be brought against you –" Vernon grabbed the letter back from Harry.

"You didn't tell us you weren't allowed to use magic outside school!" Harry took a step back away from his uncle as a maddening glint formed in the beefy man's eyes. Oh, Harry was no stranger to what was about to happen to him. "Forgot to mention it… Slipped your mind, I daresay!" Harry was now backed into a corner, his uncle looming over him. "Well, I've got news for you, boy…" Harry flinched. "I'm locking you up. You're never going back to that freaky school!" Vernon grabbed Harry roughly around the back of the neck, and the mark there burned making Harry nearly yell out as he hissed in pain, not that his enraged uncle took notice as he dragged Harry up the stairs. "And you can't magic yourself out or they'll expel you," he laughed as he tossed Harry none too gently into his room and slammed the door shut.

Harry struggled to his knees, gasping from the pain that still shot down his spine from the mark. It subsided after a few minutes and he staggered to his feet and over to Hedwig's cage. "Hey girl, I want you to go to the Weasleys, they'll take care of you. I'll be along in a couple of weeks; I just have to wait for someone," he said shakily. Hedwig blinked in concern for her master and nipped at his fingers gently. Harry opened the window and let Hedwig out into the night. He only had to wait till his birthday and Dobby. Hedwig had been lucky that Harry had managed to keep his uncle from locking her up so far, but he was concerned that now he wouldn't be able to stop him, not without the threat of magic.

Harry lay down on his bed after his owl had gone from sight. He was still breathing hard from the pain from his scar. It was times like these that Harry wondered why he was even bothering to stick around. An all too familiar urge suddenly hit Harry and he closed his eyes against it. It was bad enough that he had the twin blood scars; he certainly didn't need any more. That wasn't to say that the urge to cut himself was going away.

He hadn't ever meant to start. Shortly after Dumbledore's death, he was sitting in his room in Twelve Grimmauld Place, and had been cleaning out his trunk when he had cut himself accidentally with the knife from his potion's kit, which had been dumped into his trunk. He didn't know why or how, but ten bloody, but shallow slashes later, and he felt as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He'd stopped after the blood ritual, probably because at that point, he didn't have the time and then he had the torture sessions from the Dark Lord to worry about. He'd never thought he'd get the urge again after that.

Harry wrapped both his hands tightly in his blanket and forced himself to go to sleep. He'd take the Dreamless Sleep Potion only if he dreamed. He really hoped he didn't, he needed real sleep, and he didn't know if he'd be able to stop the urge again if he was awoken from a memory again.

--

A/N: Hope you all like it so far.