/

"…let me rip…let me kill this time…I'm coming…"

Harry startled at the sudden hissing echoing around him. He was in the library again, after having taken a quick lunch. He was trying to get some last minute studying in for Transfiguration which was his first exam on Monday.

He rummaged around for the mirror he had taken to keeping in his bag, taking note of Hermione's precaution and being the only one to realize why she had the mirror out: Better petrified than dead.

Wand in one hand, mirror in the other, Harry moved cautiously through the bookshelves. It was moving through the walls, more specifically, the pipes but that didn't mean it couldn't exit them.

"…I smell him…let me tear…bit by bit…"

Harry swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. It was looking for him. He had to find someone, anyone. It wouldn't attack if there were more people. He moved the mirror, angling it to see around the corner when he saw a flash of red reflected from behind him. He didn't have a chance to turn around as he was hit with a spell.

"Stupefy."

The sound of shattering glass accompanied the thud of Harry's body hitting the floor. His attacker levitated his body out of the library, passing a stunned Madam Pince.

/

"And where is Potter? He seems to have a habit of turning up around these attacks?" Snape drawled, lip curling in apparent disgust at the thought of Harry, raising an eyebrow almost challengingly for someone to dispute his claim.

"Severus!"

The reprimand was quick from Minerva, who was tired of the antagonism between the Potion's Master and the Ravenclaw, having dealt with Severus twice already about the boy and his apparent 'lack of self-accountability in his dudder-head brain'. Any further comment was cut off by Septima Vector, "Where is Irma?"

This got all the staff's attention. Irma Pince was never one to be late or dawdle. She was as punctual in her schedule as she was in the return of her books. Uncertainty seeped into a few of their eyes at the thought of one of their own being attacked. The atmosphere had become dark since the Headmaster's sacking and Minerva had already been contacted by the board to make the announcement that Hogwarts would be shutting down once the school year ended. With this recent attack, they would be sending the kids home tomorrow no doubt.

"Severus, perhaps you can –"

Minerva was cut off once again but this time by the appearance of the Bloody Baron, Slytherin's elusive ghost. "Madam Pince has been attacked," his gravelly voice informed them, "A student appears to have been taken as well."

"Yes, we know. Ginny Weasley was taken –"

"No," his chains rattled as he stared at Minerva, the Headmistress, "Another student." She felt her blood turn cold as her mind supplied the name; there was no other person, no other option. Snape's claim had not been unfounded it seems. "Harry Potter's belonging are abandoned next to a shattered mirror in the library."

With his message given, the Baron exited to the dungeons, not staying to see the chaos he left with his few words.

Minerva's face drained of color, Flitwick looked like he was about to fall over, and Snape's eye's gained a calculating gleam.

It was no coincidence that both Potter and Weasley were taken. Were they together when it happened or is this another message? Potter had been at the center of this the entire year and then a few weeks ago he begins to act strangely and now this? Severus didn't believe in coincidences. If he didn't know any better, he'd have bet the boy had been possessed during that time but unfortunately he had known his father who had been prone to ill becoming behavior. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

But it did beg the question: Who was behind these attacks? Before his departure, Dumbledore had been certain that this was Voldemort's work. His arm twitched at the reminder. If the Dark Lord was involved somehow, it was not physically as his Dark Mark was still as faded as it has been these last eleven years.

Was the boy already dead?

Was his corpse lying in the chamber with that of Weasley's?

Was he to fail Lily in her death as he had in her life?

He thought of the boy and how there was no one family member or guardian to even inform of the situation. How the boy was utterly alone and if not for his fame, would anyone care to notice him missing?

Had he done enough to protect him?

He cast those thoughts aside, speculation would get him nowhere. At this moment, their priority was ensuring the student's safety. He turned his full attention to Minerva, who was giving out instructions for tomorrow's assured closure.

Their attention turned to the noisy entrance of the only other missing staff member…Lockhart.

"So sorry, what did I miss?"

A sneer curled at Snape's lip, looking upon the pompous man with disgust.

Minerva shared his contempt it seemed as she looked down her nose at the DADA professor who was over ten minutes late for the emergency staff meeting, "Two students have been taken."

Lockhart seemed to freeze before he could catch himself, "Dreadful, dreadful news. And they are?" He had regained his composure but Snape was satisfied to see he was a few shades paler and had developed a twitch in his facial muscles. His brave façade was broken.

"Ginny Weasley and Harry Potter."

"How unfortunate. If only there was something we could do." He was twitching again, his legs just itching to run away.

The atmosphere in the staffroom seemed to condense at the careless way the words were thrown around, the man so uncaring of the welfare of his students.

The remaining professors and staff seemed to finally rebel, the room seeming to darken as Snape stepped forward, his condescending bite bringing smiles to the faces of everyone but Lockhart, "Your moment has finally come. Weren't you saying just last night that you've known all along where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is?"

Lockhart's lips twitched into a false smile that did not reach his eyes, "Yes, yes. Quite right you are Severus. I'll…I'll…I must prepare." His voice shook in false confidence as he ran from the room.

Murmurs broke out of 'good riddance' and 'thank Merlin'.

With the insect taken care of, Snape excused himself. He was no good standing around here doing nothing. As of right now, the remaining students are safe in their dormitories where a professor will be occupying for the night. He directed Septima to take his position in the Slytherin dorms.

"I have something to check on." With that he swept out of the room, not waiting to see if his orders were followed. Minerva followed after him but not after quick instructions of her own.

"Severus!" she called after him, "You know, or at least suspect something."

He wouldn't tell her what Dumbledore had confided to him, knowing the best secret is the one no one knew. But she was a strong witch and it was one of her students that was missing.

"I only have speculations but I need to see Potter's belongings. There may be something there that can help us." For some reason, his mind kept going back to possession. Potter had acted too out of character for this to be a coincidence and the knowledge he had acquired in those two weeks he had been missing…something didn't add up. He couldn't even go to Dumbledore with his suspicions because the man had gotten himself removed from the school! He was hoping that Potter had left something in his belongings, anything that could help.

"These attacks, there've only been concentrated on a single target. This breaks the pattern, a simultaneous attack. Legend has there being a single monster. Weasley was last seen over an hour ago and Potter was seen making his way to the library after lunch. There would be little time to take both of them which means – "

"Whoever is behind these attacks has shown themselves."

"Precisely. But every student has been accounted for."

"And you think Mr. Potter's belongings will hold clues to who it was that attacked him?" There was doubt in her voice but Severus knew she never saw Potter how he did. There was too much of his father in him for the Gryffindor head to look at him clearly.

"Potter has held a great many secrets and I believe he has been specifically targeted." His cloak billowed behind him as he increased his pace as the library came into view.

They entered the Library, eyes narrowing in on the petrified body of Irma Pince, Minerva moving to revive her while Severus moved on, catching the scattered material that could only belong to Potter. Bending down, he ran his wand over the pile, pursing his lips when nothing came back. He stepped back, foot crunching on a piece of glass. Sweeping his cloak aside, Snape found the glass was actually a mirror, a broken mirror.

If he didn't dislike the boy so much, he would compliment him, the pieces finally coming together. Granger had a similar mirror when she was found which could only mean it meant something if Potter also had one. And if he was using it, that meant he had reason to believe he would be attacked. The boy was a parselmouth and the voice he had spoken of hearing on Halloween could only be that of a serpent if he was the only one to hear it.

A mirror, the petrification...the beast was a basilisk.

Hadn't Hagrid said something had been killing the roosters?

But why take Weasley if Potter was the end game? Was she supposed to be a distraction? The boy had known and said nothing.

"Well?"

Snape moved his eyes to McGonagall slowly, eyebrows raised.

She only huffed, "I know that look. You forget; I taught you for seven years before you became a professor."

He knew he had to choose his words carefully, "I believe the beast is a Basilisk. Something Potter and Granger no doubt discovered as they both had mirrors."

He ignored the gasp of fear, focusing on the librarian who was a little unsteady but making her way to them.

"It was her. She acted so different but those eyes -! Her eyes were red!"

Minerva was the first to react, reaching to steady the woman and calm her before she could work herself into hysterics but he wanted to know what she meant.

"Who? Who was she?"

Pince took a shaky breath, insides still like ice as she struggled to regain her bearings. Whatever spell had been used on her was no ordinary petrification spell.

"Ms. Weasley."

Minerva's hands flew to her mouth as her eyes widened in shock. Snape did nothing to show the announcement had affected him expected narrow his eyes even further. With her hysteria, he was able to slip into her mind and see for himself the image that was causing her such distress.

His body turned ice cold as his forearm throbbed with a pain he hadn't felt in a decade. He would know the eyes anywhere.

Voldemort was back and in possession of the youngest Weasley and not Potter.

/

Harry came to in a dark, damp chamber. His head was spinning like he'd been attacked by the Whomping Willow or a rogue bludger again.

It was dark, almost too dark to see but there was just enough torchlight that he could make out the vastness of the chamber. Sitting up, Harry could say that the stories had no parallel to actually being in the chamber itself because there was no doubt in his mind that he was in the Chamber of Secrets. If the rows of serpents weren't enough, the towering statue of Slytherin himself was a dead giveaway.

The silence wasn't something he was fond of but it told him that the basilisk wasn't near. It did little to comfort him as the Heir was most likely nearby, watching him, waiting to make his move. His only question left was why he was alive.

Getting to his feet, the absence of his wand was heavy as his eyes darted around. He could see a body closer to the statue of Slytherin…had another student been taken? He moved wearily towards the unmoving figure, wholly aware that his wand was missing from his person and feeling naked and defenseless for it. He scratched again at the persistent itch on his arm, creating more marks to join the fresh scabs.

His heart and hand stopped when he saw the red hair fanned out, soaked to a dark red, a blood red, "Ginny!?" He ran the rest of the way, disregarding the fact that their kidnapper was nowhere to be seen.

It was Ginny, he would recognize her hair anywhere! But what was she doing down here? Why take her? Was this a game with the Heir, taking his friends?

"She won't wake." A calm, soothing, voice sounded to the side. It was a familiar voice, one he hadn't heard in weeks but could still recognize with the ease one could an old friend after years apart.

"Tom? How are you – What's happening?"

Nothing made sense. Tom was a memory so how could he be outside the diary in a physical form? No, it wasn't physical…his edges were blurry. Corporal form then. He'd never been able to do that when they were together; had something changed?

He couldn't focus on that right now. For the first time in weeks, his attention was solely on his best friend, the person who had stuck by him through everything. And like that, he regretted all the fights, all the arguments, everything he had done these last few weeks to her. His hand hesitated as he moved to touch her, scared of what he would find. She was so pale, so lifeless. Choking down a swallow, his trembling hand lightly touched her cheek,

"Ginny, she's cold…we need to get her out of here, Tom!" There was urgency in his voice as his hands fully cupped the young Gryffindor's face. For the first time since he woke in this chamber, true fear was reflected in those dilated green eyes.

That was what he wanted to hear, to hear Harry beg for his help again, to realize that he was nothing without Tom. But more than that, that if he so asked, Tom would fix whatever was the issue.

"I can't do that Harry," Tom answered calmly with remorse lacing his every word, moving closer, his eyes never straying from his prey.

Harry heard what Tom said and in his panic, failed to realize that the emotion Tom was projecting failed to reach his eyes. Instead, he called out desperately, trying again, "She's dying, Tom!"

What was happening to her? They couldn't have been down here a long time so why was she so cold? None of it made sense! And again, how was Tom here? Harry tried to bring Ginny into his arms but her body provided too much resistance and he was left cradling her head in her lap, wetness creeping into his clothes the longer he sat.

Tom studied him and Harry felt like his soul was bared for him to poke and prod. Why wasn't Tom helping him!? All that time they spent –

"You're different from what I expected. We're more alike than I first thought," he admitted, almost carelessly, a smile beginning to stretch across his face. For the first time since they had met, Harry felt unsure about the memory.

Tom stepped closer and apprehension began to fill Harry. His body wanted to move back but he had to stay with Ginny. His eyes were searching, hungry, wanting, demanding more.

"Those books, you never questioned the content, never believed it was wrong. I know your deepest feelings," Tom circled Harry, almost like a predator, the calmness never leaving his face, "Dumbledore would never approve but I can help you – I can teach you!"

Things weren't adding up – Tom, Ginny, the Chamber – none of it.

"How are you here Tom?" Harry dreaded the answer, knew deep down what it would be. The chamber, Tom, the diary next to Ginny…

A twisted smile took over his handsome face, turning it ugly before shifting back to the indifferent smirk as he looked coolly down at him.

"I never expected you to discover my diary. Ever since Ginny told me your story, I was most anxious to meet you, befriend you if I could." Harry could swear he saw a flash of red reflected in those eyes. "You exceeded my expectations and proved to be one of my more – gifted – followers."

The Dursley's betrayal hadn't hurt as bad as this. The declaration that someone he had trusted had manipulated and used him. It was the only confirmation he needed, where all the pieces started to fall into place.

"Ginny – she was – you helped me – it was you? All this time and it was you?" Though he had guessed it, it did nothing to alleviate the sting as he grasped at threads, breathing out in disbelief.

"Ginny poured her heart and soul into a diary because she was lonely. But you," Tom finished his circle around him, staring cruelly at Harry, "Loneliness doesn't bother you. You needed direction, answers! And I could provide both. I took you under my wing, crafted you into what you are today."

"All this time, you were using me – pointing me away when it was really you!" Harry twisted his body to follow the Slytherin's movements, making sure he remained between him and his friend the entire time. The stiffness of her body was like a hammer in the back of his mind, reminding him of what little time he had.

"I wasn't using you, Harry. I was making you strong, showing you how they were holding you back from your true potential!" Harry felt like he was being mocked as Tom sung him praise as his friend lay dying at his feet.

Ginny, sweet, vicious Ginny who was the first to his defense and he had never once noticed her struggling. Never saw a difference in her behavior. He had been a horrible friend. He shook that thought out of his head and focused on getting more information.

"How did you convince Ginny to open the Chamber?"

"You know I can be very persuasive, Harry." Riddle stepped back. "I want you by my side, Harry. What we have…together, nothing, no one, could stand in our way! You'd never have to return to that orphanage. You'd have the respect you deserve!"

Harry shook his head back and forth in disbelief, knowing that only hours ago he would've agreed to the offer. Would've trusted Tom; Tom who knew his innermost secrets and desires to escape the orphanage, the life of isolation and contempt. But he couldn't, he would never agree to Tom's way. All his classmates, Hermione and now Ginny…when did it stop?

"You killed someone Tom, you've hurt people." Maybe if he could just get him to see that this wasn't the way...

"Progress requires sacrifice…you know this."

It was spoken softly as Tom regarded at Harry through his lashes.

Sacrifice. He knew about sacrifice. About loneliness. And regret. But he had also experienced the world in a way he had never experienced before. Through Ginny and Hermione and Derrick and all the people he had befriended this year, he had come to realize that there was so much more. He remembered the boy who had attacked him and how he had stopped himself from retaliating. He was better than that. It was something he had thought he had shared with Tom with their similar upbringing: To be better than their tormentors.

A silence passed over them. One, Tom was only too happy to extend. He was curious to see how long it would take for Harry to connect everything. And he wasn't disappointed.

It was a bone-deep chill that took over when the realization struck him, the absence of the monster serpent the last puzzle piece. He would gladly take a bludger to the head a hundred times for this to be wrong but Tom never did anything without a reason. It was a whisper at the back of his mind, growing louder and louder until his brain grabbed the information and forced it into place.

"You're a parselmouth…you're Voldemort!" Harry breathed at the realization, voice barely holding back a crack.

Tom just continued to smile, not denying the accusation. It was conjecture, had always been, and the main reason Dumbledore could never prove anything. But the time for kids games was over.

"I created a new name, a name I knew everyone would one day fear when I became the greatest sorcerer in the world!" His chest puffed out as he stood to his full high, looming over Harry.

Harry refused to be cowered, this was his friend.

"But you're not…even now, you're still scared of Dumbledore. All those times you talked about him…you were scared he'd find out about you." Harry couldn't muster the hatred he knew he should feel for Tom – Voldemort. The poor, orphan boy who would one day grow to kill his mother and father. The teenager had been his friend, his confidant.

"Dumbledore's been driven out of this castle by the mere memory of me. A child did what he spent years unable to achieve!"

There it was. Why did everyone assume he was the one to have defeated Voldemort? No one had been there but four people. For all he knew, his mother could've done a protection ritual. There was nothing special about him, nothing that gave substance to all the stories and the legend surrounding him. He was and always has been, just Harry.

Tom was right though, Dumbledore was gone, sacked. He'd known what the teachers had concluded weeks ago – without Dumbledore, the school was even more vulnerable. He'd left them, knowing that the attacks would only escalate, had done nothing, had left without a word –

"Help will always be given to those who ask for it."

"He may be gone but the professors and students still trust him." In the deepest parts of him, parts that yearned for someone to listen to him, to help him, he knew he trusted Dumbledore. The man was the most powerful wizard and he controlled himself in ways Harry could only dream of one day doing. It was magic that washed over him, saturating the air, and almost calmness settling in the man's presence. Call it pettiness, youthful folly, a mistrust built on a ruined youth, but he couldn't bring himself to trust the adults in his life who had let him down, and those he could he found himself unable to vocalize. To know it internally was different than having it spoken aloud. It became real, with real consequences and expectations once something like that was out in the open.

Tom didn't let it show, the satisfaction of hearing Harry speak. While that may be true, the boy had neglected to add himself onto that list. That was all the confirmation he needed that he had a chance with the boy.

"You forget, I know you're darkest thoughts. I have seen your soul Harry Potter, and it is mine," he purred, words hissing out in delight as those eyes flashed red as the foul smile took over the once handsome face.

Tom finally drew his wand and Harry wasn't surprised to see his own Holly wand. He opened his mouth to speak but froze.

Music filled the chamber; spine-tingling, unearthly music that filled his heart with hope, with courage. It grew louder and louder and flames erupted at the top of the nearest pillar, revealing the crimson bird that Harry had only seen on his burning day.

"Fawkes?" he breathed as the phoenix flew towards him.

Tom shot off a curse at the phoenix, recognizing it as Dumbledore's, and it went up in flames. Harry's hope died with the disappearance of Fawkes.

"We could've been great, you and me, Harry Potter," Tom said softly as he turned to the statue of Slytherin himself, almost in regret, "I'll give you a look at my beast before you die."

Harry was reluctant to leave Ginny but at this point, he would be a sitting duck once the basilisk appeared. Parseltongue slipped from Tom's mouth, filling the chamber. It was disorientating, finally hearing the language spoken by another. He felt a pull to stand by his side, command the beast to finish Salazar Slytherin's work. It was a part of him he shoved down, ignoring in favor of running in the opposite direction of the statue.

He could hear the mighty beast as it exited its resting place, coiling and curling as it awaited its orders.

"Parseltongue won't save you now Harry; it only obeys me!"

Gritting his teeth, Harry willed his legs to move faster. Now was not the time to find out if Basilisks liked human.

The chamber was flooded, stone slick with water, and feeling smaller and smaller, darker and confined. Was this his tomb?

Cursing as his foot slipped on the flooded floor, he caught himself with his hands before he could smash his face onto the stone. Using his new position, he pivoted to the left, feeling the air displace where he once was and hearing the massive weight crash to the floor.

Puffing and glasses smeared with water, Harry tried to reach the nearest pipe, hoping it was too small for the Basilisk to follow. He sucked in a deep breath, filling his lungs with oxygen as he pushed his burning legs faster, the muscles protesting at the acceleration.

Merlin, Harry thought, don't let me die down here!

Would anyone even look for him or would they assume he ran off after killing Ginny? Did anyone even know he was gone? He had been alone in the library so there was a chance no one knew he was missing. That was the story of his life. No one to even miss him.

His heart felt like it was about to pound right out of his chest, the sound of blood rushing through his ears as he was forced to pause to catch his breath.

Hand leaning against the slick stone, his entire frame froze as a monstrous shadow fell over him, the torches lining the wall giving him an idea of just how massive the beast was. He could only watch as the shadow opened its mouth, it's fangs on full display as it prepared for the kill.

He wasn't going to make it!

He shut his eyes tightly, ducking his head under his arms as if that would stop the pain.

….

….

Trilling echoed in the vast chamber, bringing with it hope and strength. It was enough for Harry to lift his head, give him a fighting spirit not to lay down and accept death. He focused on the wall where the shadowed form of the basilisk lay and saw how Fawkes appeared above the serpents head, diving for an attack. Not wasting the time given to him, Harry sent a silent thanks to the phoenix and took off, putting as much distance between them as he could, heart rate picking back up as adrenaline flooded his system yet again.

/

He had evaded the basilisk but that wasn't the worst of his problems. He knew Tom was strong, having learned from him for a month, and that wasn't even considering the fact that he was a young Voldemort while he, Harry, was wandless and alone.

The pipes all led back to the main chamber, something Tom had most likely known if his careless expression was anything to go by. A shine of pride was hidden in those dark eyes as they followed his form as he emerged undefeated from the pipes, having successfully evaded his beast.

He ran to Ginny, ignoring the teenager for a moment, hoping that she was still alive. Her pulse was very faint and her lips were already blue; she was close, if not minutes, from death.

"I must thank you for your part in this achievement. Compared to yours, little Ginny's soul was rather weak. You gave me the strength I needed to finally complete five decades of planning." That grin was mocking him. His pearly white, perfect teeth, flashing briefly behind equally perfect lips. "All I needed was Dumbledore gone."

Harry glared at him, aware of his own wand being held against him. The teenager was clearer around the edges, less blurry. He threw a helpless glance down at Ginny. The hatred he knew he should feel was beginning to awaken, a flame growing deep inside of him the longer he looked at his dying friend.

But there was nothing he could do, he had been outplayed, maneuvered into a corner. If it came down to it, he wasn't above begging, which is what he had been reduced to, "Please, don't."

Don't do this. Don't take her away. Don't betray him like everyone else.

Tom just looked at him with compassionate eyes, eyes Harry wasn't sure could be trusted anymore, eyebrows scrunched together as if he really felt sorry for him.

"I cannot."

The basilisk burst from one of the pipes, hissing madly, body whipping back and forth in agitation.

He closed his mouth: if this was going to be his last stand, he wasn't going to hide. He would be brave, like his parents before him. Standing tall, Harry grasped the discarded Sorting Hat Fawkes must have dropped when he first appeared. Chin held high, he stared down the blind Basilisk, seeing the damage Fawkes had done to protect him.

At least the beast could never kill or petrify another person, he took some solace in this minute victory.

Grime covered hands began to tremble as the monster got closer, chest heaving in fear but still, he refused to back down, to cower.

The basilisk blindly lunged, following Riddle's hissed directions. Harry dodged as it hit the chamber wall, pieces of stone collapsing with the impact.

The hat sagged in his hand as if suddenly weighed down. His hand came away with a jewel-studded sword, a sword only ever described in books: the Sword of Gryffindor! Harry let out a chocked laugh of disbelief, hope blossoming in his chest.

Righting itself, the serpent posed to lung again. Ready, Harry lifted the sword to defend himself.

It was a second…a pause…before –

…

Pain, unimaginable pain like he had never felt before ripped through his body. One long, poisonous fang sinking deeper and deeper into his arm, splintering when the giant serpent keeled over sideways. Harry fell with the basilisk, the spasms in his arm making him unable to release his grip on the sword currently embedded in the roof of the serpent's mouth. Green eyes were directly in line with the massive head of the basilisk, where he could smell the rot on its breath. Thankfully, the fall dislodged his hand from the sword and using his non-injured one, he ripped the fang out of his arm, watching in fascination as blood flowed freely from the wound, dripping down his arm and onto the floor, mixing with the puddled water at his feet.

It was too late, he knew that. He could already see the poison spreading through his veins, turning them black as it crawled up his basilica vein, making its way to his heart and other major organs. With all the research he'd done on these creatures, he knew he was dead. His vision was already fogging, his limbs weighted.

At least the basilisk can never hurt anyone again, Harry thought as he slid further to the ground.

Footsteps echoed throughout the chamber as they drew nearer to his crippled form, a shadow stopping in front of him.

Tom crouched down to his level, a look of regret – that can't be right – crossing his face as he took in his boy.

"You have been defeated, Harry. It only takes minutes for the venom of a basilisk to spread. I gave you a chance. This is what happens when you refuse Lord Voldemort." His hand outstretched to the discarded fang. It was a pity the beast had to die but he had no use for it anymore, it had served its purpose.

This wasn't supposed to happen. He'd wanted the boy by his side, not dying. The basilisk was meant as a challenge, to give him enough time for the energy from Ginny to transfer into him completely.

A trill came from above as Fawkes reappeared in a burst of flames, swooping down to Harry's side, landing on blood-soaked pant leg, head tilting to the side in consideration.

Harry couldn't tell if it was his vision going but Tom looked less blurry, more solid around the edges. The world started spinning, his body feeling like it was endlessly falling. Claws dug into his ripped sleeve but he couldn't even muster the strength to thank Fawkes for his help.

"Even Dumbledore's bird knows it. Look as he weeps for your impending death." Tom moved closer into his space, his now solid hand cupping his chin tenderly, thumb passing over his cheek as one would a lover. "You'll join your Mudblood mother soon enough. In the end, you were no match for Lord Voldemort."

That sounded pretty nice, as long as this pain went away. If this was dying, it didn't seem so bad. He felt light, the pain fading…but that wasn't right? The chamber was coming back into focus. Blinking his eyes quicker than before, Harry made out the form of Tom Riddle in front of him, he could feel the warm hand on his face. Strange…he thought it'd be cold. Those steel blue eyes weren't focused on his face, instead, they were looking at his wound…or where it used to be.

"I forgot…phoenix tears have healing powers," he spoke to himself. Strangely enough, he didn't seem mad over it, that he was going to survive when minutes before he was lamenting on his impending death. The warm hand caressed his skin as it brushed his neck before taking it in a strong grip, Harry's own wand at his neck, "Survive and seek me out," was whispered into his ears and the Slytherin's eyes dilated in ecstasy, breath coming in warm puffs against his cheek.

A burning pain erupted from where the hand was pressed. He was released in seconds, his neck burning in agony.

"You are mine, Harry Potter." Harry shuddered at the parting words of his enemy, whispered into his ear, warm breath tickling his skin. It wasn't a promise, it was a declaration.

/

The poison neutralized from his system, Harry walked his exhausted body to where he knew Ginny had been. His brain had already worked out what a solid Tom meant but he had to confirm it for himself. It was torture for him and he did it on purpose; Ginny had been his friend and she was dead because of him. If he had been able to defeat Tom, she would be alive. Instead, he was weak and allowed himself to be manipulated.

She was stone cold. Her lips already blue, her freckles standing out on her ash white face.

A sob escaped from his mouth before he could stop it. More soon followed as the reality of the situation overcame him. Voldemort had won…he had beat him in the most intimidate and cruel ways. Harry wished he had allowed him to die. The pain was unbearable, worse than the basilisk venom that burnt through his body only moments before.

He would never see those sparkling blue eyes again, never hear her vicious hexes, or her ringing laughter. Never play against her in Quidditch or hear the stories of her brothers. He would never be able to see how dark he could make her blush and he never got to count how many freckles she had dusting her kind face.

Fawkes let out a mournful melody, circling Riddle's collateral damage. The melody echoed through the chamber, pairing perfectly with the gut-wrenching sobs of the twelve-year-old.

The freshly burnt serpent coiled tightly into itself before settling motionlessly onto the boy's neck, marking him for all to see as Voldemort's.

/