"Hawthorn, Crabbe, Goyle, Parkinson, Macnair, Malfoy, Alton, and Cloke. You were responsible for raising me from the dead with the hope that I would be a more level-headed leader than Voldemort ever was, the rest of you have joined me in the days since my rebirth and have proven yourself to be loyal friends. It is because of this that I call upon your services for the first time and clue you all in on what I plan to do." Tom greeted his allies in the former Riddle House, with the Muggle population of the village residing in the mundane side of the house, while he met them in the mirrored version of the house.

"Voldemort is splitting his soul again, he has already created two more Horcruxes and could quite possibly create more. His wand and his pet snake Nagini are both confirmed to hold a small portion of his soul. We are most fortunate to have with us a guest to help us identify these Horcruxes, say hello to Bellatrix Lestrange, she is the real reason for Voldemort's devastation of the village and she will pay for her transgressions."

"Tom, may I ask you a question that has persistently bothered me?" Nigel Hawthorn asked timidly.

"Of course you may, you need not fear upsetting me by saying the wrong word, or at least you don't have to worry about me punishing you in the way Voldemort did."

"Why exactly have you decided to teach at Hogwarts? Don't mistake my question for displeasure at your placement, especially as my son is doing remarkably well under your instruction, but I can't help but feel that you have a goal that is beyond the scope of what I can imagine."

"Well, Nigel, I can honestly tell you that I just enjoy teaching. The side of me that was Marvolo Gaunt wanted to locate the Horcrux placed there and realised that he valued the education of the future of the Wizarding World, that hasn't changed since we integrated and is rather unlikely to change."

"What do you need us to do?" Mr Parkinson asked Tom, who looked at him and smiled.

"We rebuild and retaliate. Voldemort will die."

/_-^_^/

It was a testament to the gloomy mood of the students that April first came and went without a single prank being pulled.

This dour atmosphere was made even worse with the reports of frequent attacks in Europe, it was clear to everyone that Voldemort was building an army and that the peacetime they enjoyed was soon to end.

The only thing that brought up the morale in the school was the return of Professor Gaunt to the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, though he too was in a foul mood. He had agreed to come back when Harry spoke to him about a ward that would block out anyone who wasn't in the village when cast, Magical or Muggle, it wasn't exactly what he had wanted but it would work for the last three months of term.

Harry found himself with very little to occupy himself with, all of the Professors were busy with the O.W.L and N.E.W.T preparations that always happened at the end of the year, and so he spent much of his time down in the Chamber, sometimes accompanied by Elias and/or Dudley but mostly alone.

When he had the time to himself down there, Harry would use what he had learned in first year with his Patronus casting, specifically how to accustomise yourself to wielding more magic than he normally could. He wanted to use his Patronus as a visual guide for how successfully he was handling the power, with it splitting into numerous Patroni and even reaching that golden form he had seen only twice before.

Rowena and Helena were always present when he was holding this strength, even coaching him on how to use his sword effectively in combat and how to channel magic through the blade offensively. He had promised himself that he would never be weak again and he intended to keep that promise.

It was after a particularly gruelling training session that Helga, the Basilisk, came to Harry to speak to him.

"I have a gift for you Harry, you must accept it, but first I have to tell you something. I am dying, I can feel it happening, and when I do Rigor will be all alone here and my Chamber will be unguarded. I wish to give you my eyes, or more accurately the powers they contain, I can see the ebb and flow of magic and make eye contact with a mouse several miles away, on top of the petrification and death effects."

"Are you sure about this? What would I have to do?"

"Of course I'm sure Harry, I wouldn't have said it if I wasn't. As for how, it is a simple ritual in which you put a small amount of my blood within yourself."

"I don't know…"

"Come on, Master, you already have the voice of a serpent, you deserve this." Rigor hissed at him, annoyed at Harry's indecision.

"Okay, tell me what I have to do." Harry responded, determination thick in his voice.

"Your sword can pierce my side, though the pommel can take back any wound it inflicts." Helga informed him, shocking Harry.

"Let me know when you're ready."

"We begin now Harry."

/^_^_-/

Not even three days after obtaining the eyes of a Basilisk Harry already regretted it, the overwhelming new stimuli that he simply couldn't perceive before was becoming too much.

He was spending every possible minute in the Chamber of Secrets trying to learn all he could about his newly acquired vision, the most pertinent lesson being on controlling the ability to kill with eye-contact so that he didn't accidentally kill someone.

It wasn't until a week later that he was able to look at things normally, without a hint of his Basilisk abilities present in his eyes. Even without his newly acquired abilities Harry could still see that Helga didn't have long left. The idea of her dying had hit Harry harder than he ever expected and so he decided to do whatever he could to help.

He had been sitting with Hedwig and Fawkes, trying to figure out what he could do to help Helga, when the idea came to him. He looked at Fawkes with his Basilisk sight, then at Hedwig, and compared their magical biology to see if he could isolate Fawkes ability to be reborn at the end of his life cycle.

As he reached out to feel the threads of magic, Harry heard the word "no" in his mind and resigned himself to letting Helga die.

"Magic was supposed to solve everything." Harry muttered darkly to himself. "I hate this feeling."