Warnings: Eventual character death, time travel, maybe coarse language, multiple PoVs.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling and associates of whom I am not one. No profit is being made from this work.

II: The Chamber of Secrets

Gilderoy had never been so lucky as the day that Harry Potter walked into Flourish & Blotts while he was signing his autobiography, Magical Me. Well, being made a Hogwarts professor and therefore allowed to assign all of his books as required textbooks for the coming year had been a lucky break for his Gringott's account, but oh Harry Potter made everything perfect.

The boy was clearly lacking in direction. He didn't have a publicist, or a bodyguard, or even a policy about photos and autographs! So Gilderoy could use him as needed for 2 minutes, no questions asked.

And his guardian on site, a short, portly woman with almost as many children as Gilderoy had books, was clearly too enamored with the Gilderoy Lockhart to consider the implications of the photo being taken.

"I would like to take this opportunity," Gilderoy announced, arm still clamped around Harry's shoulder, "to announce that this coming school year, Hogwarts students won't just be learning from my books," he indicated the full, signed set he had just gifted to the young boy, "but they will be getting the genuine Magical Me! That's right, this year I am taking up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts! The next generation of witches and wizards are in my capable hands."

He had initially expected the signing to get a two page spread in Witch Weekly, but now? Front page of the Daily Prophet for sure, likely with multiple smaller articles interspersed throughout the paper regarding his generosity. Perfect really.

He released the boy after he felt enough photos had been taken, returning to his book signing, though he made sure to bring it up with several women in line, including the woman acting as Harry's guardian for the outing.

However, about five minutes later the crowd before him parted unexpectedly as two men crashed into the table. Gilderoy leaped back and brandished his wand for a good photo op; he could feel the Witch Weekly segment getting longer, now destined to include a passage about two married men interrupting the proceedings to fight over Gilderoy, perhaps regarding wives leaving them in pursuit of the Gilderoy Lockhart.

The shorter of the two men, recognizable as Lucius Malfoy, gave the crowd a calculating look before he stalked away, leaving the balding redhead alone at Gilderoy's desk before he was pulled away by Harry Potter's guardian. Interesting.

The signing resumed, now with new conversation topics with the fans. It wouldn't be until he got home that Gilderoy noticed that someone had slipped him their diary. It was empty, but he knew all the tricks of the trade when it came to finding secret messages, considering how many he wrote for himself. And the harder he worked to find the love letters within, the more he could brag about it later.

Perhaps he could weave it into his next book, of how "he" conquered a Nundu. Yes, this diary could function as the means by which he found out about that poor African village's troubles, since obviously the truth wouldn't do in this case. He still needed to work out the kinks in that shaman's retelling, to give it the proper gravitas of Gilderoy Lockhart.

The chase was on.

The Weasleys' Ford Anglia arrived at King's Cross at ten to eleven on the September the first. They had set out early enough to be there almost an hour earlier, but several incidents including Ron forgetting to pack his stack of Lockhart books and the dung bombs the twins set in Percy's trunk going off preemptively required some mediation and cleaning charms.

As was, they were still able to walk calmly into the station with their trunks.

"Fred, George, you first, Arthur you go along with Percy, I'll take Ginny, and Harry and Ron can bring up the rear I think," Ron's mum ordered. Ron, for his part, was looking forward to school. Not for classes, and not necessarily for friends – Harry had spent the better part of the past month with him at the Burrow after all – but to get out from under his mum's thumb, just for a bit.

As he and Harry raced for the barrier between Platforms nine and ten, he was very much looking forward to what was on the other side.

And then he found himself looking up at the ceiling with a concerned guard bent over him, and Hedwig's cage rolling away with the clamor of the bird's distress.

"S-sorry, we lost control of the trolley," Harry was quick to apologize, fetching Hedwig as Ron sat up. Ron pressed a hand against the barrier and found it was solid. He turned around as Harry finished righting their things, frowning.

"It's closed mate. But we've still got five minutes, so maybe it'll get fixed?" Ron didn't sound especially confident.

A harried looking family rushed over, with an older girl Ron thought he recognized and a trunk with a cat carrier at the top.

"Is there something wrong with the barrier?" asked the mother of the family. "I know we were running late but…" She glanced at the clock. "Oh dear. I'll send a message to the Ministry and… Marietta, dear, why don't you and your father take these boys to concessions? I'll just pop right quick into the Ministry and get this sorted. Keep an eye on the barrier in case anyone can get out, will you love?"

Just like that the woman was gone, and Ron Weasley found himself in the capable hands of the Edgecombe family.

At length, a Ministry official sorted out the barrier, and though the train had already left, the three students who missed it were given portkeys that would deliver them to Hogwarts at supper.

Harry stopped so suddenly in the hallway of the second floor that Ron and Hermione nearly ran into him. He had followed the voice in the wall, the voice that said it was going to kill and…

"Merlin… that's Mrs Norris, isn't it?" Ron exhaled.

Mrs Norris, the most wretched cat in the whole school, was hanging upside-down from a sconce, stiff as a board. Not even a single hair of her twitched. And under her, in gold paint, was a message

The Chamber of Secrets is Open.

Enemies of the Heir, Beware.

They heard the chatter of more students approaching. The feast must have ended then, and here they were at what was clearly the scene of the crime.

The next few minutes were chaos as students headed to their common rooms were stopped by the sight of the dead cat. Though why Malfoy was among them, Harry couldn't guess, since the second floor was certainly not along the way to the Dungeons. Had he and his goons somehow known there was going to be something there?

And then Filch was accusing Harry of being the one to kill Mrs Norris! Harry may not have liked the mangy thing but…

"Argus, calm yourself, I can vouch for the children," Professor Weatherby's voice floated from the hall behind them. "As they say, they were at Sir Nicholas' Death Day Party."

"It seems rather suspect that they would miss the feast entirely," Snape responded. His eyes were for Harry alone as he spoke. "I wasn't under the impression that a ghost's party would provide food fit for the living?"

"And all the better they didn't, I don't think I'll eat for days after seeing that spread, in all honesty," the history professor was quick to defend them. "I'm going to have to request that Potter, Weasley, and Granger be permitted to return to their common room while you all go to Gilderoy's office, if I might Headmaster."

While they were shepherded to bed, Harry reflected that it was nice to have an adult around to help, every so often. Mrs Weasley had seemed the sort who would have done this, certainly, standing up for them against Snape.

The source of the voice in the walls still concerned him, however.

Hermione's hand hung in the air, as if the tips of her fingers were rooted to the air and the rest of her body was dangling from them, a determined pendulum, certain to gain the information from Professor Weatherby that the Library had failed to impart on her.

"I think with this discussion the best place to start is with the founders themselves," Professor Weatherby's words were carefully measured, rolled around his mouth and tasted before relaying themselves to the room at large. "I think it safe to assume that less than half the class has read Hogwarts: A History despite its, ah, popularity this week. I'll hit some key bullet points here, but I'll go into greater depth later in the year as we discuss Scottish magical history.

"Most of you know that Hogwarts was founded sometime after 700 CE, though precisely when is hard to pin down, given that in that period, few wizards were keeping very good track of years in their history telling. Some family trees contradict themselves heavily, if they contain years of birth and such as, with the Black family for example, there is record of a witch's daughter being born 3 years prior to the mother. So, as you can see, it is difficult to narrow down any timelines between the fall of Rome and the Renaissance.

"So, sometime between 700 CE and 900 CE, the four founders of Hogwarts met, became friends, and built Hogwarts. From some books I encountered while researching in the Restricted Section, I can tell you that each Founder was at the forefront of their field at the time, on the cusp of discoveries that wouldn't be made for centuries to come, each skilled in ways that few other masters could achieve. Where Hufflepuff was a master of Potions, Ravenclaw was an astronomer and a true prodigy of arithmancy. Gryffindor was an accomplished warrior, as well as a compassionate healer. And Slytherin was the best with magical plants and animals."

Hermione's quill flew over her parchment. She absolutely had to find these books. Perhaps when they tried to convince Professor Lockhart to sign a permission slip to check out Moste Potente Potions she could get permission for these, too.

After all, Hogwarts, A History never mentioned what subjects the Founders had each taught. And it was so fascinating. What other subjects had early Hogwarts students learned? How had the curricula changed over the centuries? What other subjects did the Founders study, and did they perhaps have other teachers hired on to help in the beginning?

"Now," Weatherby continued, having given the students time to jot notes from the board, "students from non-wizarding backgrounds may be unaware of this, but there are occasionally witches and wizards born with strange abilities. You may remember Ms Tonks from last year, and her prank of transforming into the Headmaster at dinner? She possessed one such ability, that of a metamorphamagus, someone who can change their appearance at will. The only other way for one human person to transform into another is via the polyjuice potion, which works only on persons who are at least 75% human to turn into someone at least as much human as well.

"According to the books I referenced earlier, it is possible all of the founders possessed such gifts given some accounts of their accomplishments, but it is only that of Salazar Slytherin which is famous. Slytherin was a parselmouth – a wizard capable of speaking parseltongue, the language of snakes. As many of you know, this historically brought a dark reputation to the ability throughout Europe, though in most non-European cultures parselmouths are trained to utilize their gifts for medicinal purposes – harvesting venom for antidotes and the like, breeding snakes for potions ingredients, that sort of thing. In Britain, the darkest effect was had; until two centuries ago, those found to be parseltongues were frequently sentenced to death without trial, such as in the case of a young boy in 1279 who reportedly prevented a viper from striking another child, or an Indian spice trader found to be using his ability to harness venoms for his black market trading in 1754. Both of these wizards were sentenced to death."

Hermione swallowed. Well, the muggle government (or what passed for one at the time) hadn't been much, if any, better back then. Muggle history was just as bloody as that of wizards. But it was still hard to hear about the old government of her new world enacting such a punishment on someone for being bilingual.

Alright, so speaking to snakes did seem a little odd. But it was no more so than anything she encountered at school. Like Fluffy, or a giant self-playing chess set, or… anything.

"In modern times there is no legal punishment for simply possessing the abilities of a parselmouth, however there is a serious social stigma attached to the ability. According to studies by St Mungo's healers, there is no reason for the sudden drops in reported parselmouths seen in the past century, of families with a history of the skill suddenly losing it, and it is thought that these bloodlines now hide their abilities rather than be looked upon with scorn by the community at large, particularly following the rise of You-Know-Who. It is also worth noting that the parselmouth ability is the only magical ability by birth which does not require those born with it to be magical. There are 6 known cases of squibs having the ability, one of whom was a third generation squib."

"But Professor, what does that have to do with the legend of the chamber?" Dean Thomas seemed interested now, Hermione noted, a surprise given his demonstrated fear of anything snake-related. Harry, meanwhile, was scribbling furiously away and what little of his face she could see looked… pale? She might even say he looked a little green, come to think of it. Perhaps it was the mention of You-Know-Who.

Poor Harry, she thought. Hermione had only known Harry for a year, and she wouldn't call him delicate, per se, but he always seemed to gain a… wooden quality to him whenever You-Know-Who was brought up.

"Quite a lot, actually," Professor Weatherby smiled widely at his students, obviously delighted at their interest in that day's lecture topic. "What I did not mention earlier was that the books I read about the founders were written by the founders themselves – their logs of the creation of Hogwarts. Each founder contributed heavily to fortifying the castle before students were brought in, and it is strongly hinted that Slytherin's fortification was a chamber within the castle containing a vicious creature which could, at the failing of all other fortifications, take down an army all on its lonesome. Not incapacitate, but kill, a full legion of men in defense of the castle.

"So, assuming the logs themselves, or what little remained intact for translation, were based in fact, the monster of the chamber is a servant of the castle, and knowing the ability carried in the Slytherin line is parseltongue, it can be deduced to be a serpent of some variety. So if, as the legends say, the chamber of secrets has been opened, it was by a parseltongue, but perhaps not one of Slytherin's line. No creature with a lifespan spanning so many centuries may be bound to a single line like a common house-elf mind you, so it is quite possible our so-called 'Heir of Slytherin' is no such thing and merely the scion of a parseltongue talent in hiding.

"However I would like to point out to all my students that the Legend of the Chamber, in what is the closest to a source document as can be obtained, states that the monster can kill armies. The other night an elderly housecat was petrified. In my professional opinion, this is likely not the work of some grave beast and Slytherin's Heir, based on the nature of the incident. There are at least 10 dark spells capable of producing a similar effect. We can only hope this was simply someone's poor attempt at a prank."

I've got to talk to Justin, Harry thought to himself. If he could just clear things up with the other boy, convince him that he had told Malfoy's ruddy snake to back off, not attack, then maybe things could go back to normal again. The twins might find it funny to escort him down the halls, scaring first years by saying he was the heir of Slytherin, but Harry didn't.

He was Just Harry, and he didn't need this going on, not when he was trying to out Malfoy as the culprit behind the attacks on Mrs Norris and Colin.

"Ah Mr Potter, just the boy I was looking for!" Harry spun about in the hall intersection to see Professor Weatherby jogging his way. "I was hoping to ask you about some of the muggle references you made in your last paper?"

"Oh, um, sure Professor," Harry bit his lip and nodded. "But, um, I'm trying to find one of my classmates right now. Professor Sprout cancelled class to take care of the Mandrakes, and I just… I just wanted to talk to him about the Duelling Club."

"You mean Mr Finch-Fletchley? Well I'm sure we can walk and talk." And Weatherby went on, asking about some of the references Harry had made. The paper had been about Merlin and the Founders, and Harry had mentioned some muggle films, since he really didn't have much to say. It had just been fluff for the essay, but Professor Weatherby apparently found the muggle myths based on magical fact to be interesting.

Halfway through Harry's explanation of the "The Sword and the Stone", they found Nearly-Headless Nick and Justin Finch-Fletchley in the Transfiguration corridor.

"Do you really think this'll work?" Ron stared at his globby dose of Polyjuice potion. It was a lovely shade of booger, Hermione felt. At least compared to hers, which was the green of mushy peas. Or baby poop.

"It should, I did everything like the book said," Hermione didn't doubt herself, per se. And if she was going to drink this, it was best that it really did work. But… the consistency was chunky, like milk left to curdle. How would she avoid puking after she drank it? "Just pick a stall and change into those robes, alright? I think if you two transform in the clothes you're in, you'll rip the seats of your trousers."

Both boys nodded and went to their stalls, while Hermione hesitantly made her way to Myrtle's stall. She donned the Slytherin robes she had filched from the laundry.

On the count of three, they drank.

It was both more and less painful than the book had described. While there wasn't the pain of her spine elongating, it did have to compress slightly, and her chest ached something fierce as it expanded. What felt the worst was her hair shrinking back into her skull and the reshaping of her nose.

When she staggered out of the stall, Hermione stared at her new face in the mirror. Upturned nose, straight black hair, small teeth…

While it had been a boon that she had gotten one of Pansy Parkinson's hairs off the other girl's robes at the dueling club, she still wasn't quite sure she could forgive Professor Weatherby for pairing them off.

"Time to go," she stated in her new voice as she heard the boys leaving their stalls. Time to find out what Draco Malfoy knew about the Chamber of Secrets.

Penelope hadn't wanted to believe the little Gryffindor girl in the library. It seemed so stupid, hadn't it? Looking around corners with her pocket mirror was something out of a James Bond film, utterly ridiculous. How could it possibly save her from Slytherin's monster, which the girl was so sure was roaming the castle even then?

And why would it be, with everyone on the grounds for the Quidditch match? As it was, she was running late. Percy had to have been missing her by then.

And yet…

And yet here she sat in the Hospital Wing, in a chair between two beds, crying her eyes out. She didn't know either of them. She was in Ravenclaw, so Harry Potter's friends were hardly a blip on her radar. But the little girl had saved her.

And- and Professor Weatherby. When he found them he looked so scared. But he did his best to keep them both calm. He took Penny's mirror and took point, told them to run if anything happened to him, that the girl, Hermione's, hunch was right. The beast was out, and it could kill them with a look. They had hardly made it three corridors when she heard it.

At first it was footsteps. An adult, or at least an older student. Penelope didn't think anything of it, just that there was another student in the halls and that this whole exercise was so childish.

Then there was the soft sound. Like a body being dragged over stone. It was so quiet, whisper quiet like the footsteps, she thought she was imagining things.

"It's alright Penny, you'll be fine."

At the time she hadn't even realized she was trembling, starting to buy into what Hermione and the Professor was saying. If she had just told them what she heard, maybe they wouldn't have been petrified.

Instead she kept quiet. Professor Weatherby looked around a corner with her mirror and stopped. Hermione moved to see what he was looking at, not realizing that he was… and then she stopped too.

Penelope ran until she found a teacher, Professor McGonagall. And told her what happened. They sent a ghost to check ahead and found no one but the bodies where Penelope said they were.

There was a reason Penelope was in Ravenclaw rather than Gryffindor, and it wasn't just for her grades. When Percy arrived for her in the hospital wing she clutched his hand, drawing on his strength. She wasn't made to handle these sorts of things. Not like that silly brilliant girl or the much too brave professor, the people who definitely saved her life that afternoon.

By the time they got to his office, Professor Lockhart was already gone. Harry curled his hand into a fist as he made his way through to the Chamber. Whether the man had high-tailed it – which all his missing possessions suggested – or not, Harry could have used an adult's help here, even a useless one like Lockhart.

The only adult who had proven time and again Harry could rely on had been petrified trying to save Hermione from the same. So Harry was alone.

Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever the wall had said. And what he and Ron overheard in the teacher's lounge had revealed… Harry swallowed. They didn't tell anyone else where they were going, and Lockhart was a dead end.

And now Ron, who had panicked when he thought he saw one of the basilisk skins move and tried to hex it, was trapped behind a cave in.

What he found wasn't quite what he expected.

As expected, Penelope Clearwater, the Ravenclaw Prefect, was there, bound in conjured rope at the back of the room. However, Professor Lockhart was also collapsed on the floor of the chamber next to her, looking pale and drawn. Had he really managed to get all the way here to save her?

Then the boy appeared. The boy who called himself Tom Riddle, and told Harry about how he lived in a diary. A diary which happened to come into the possession of Professor Lockhart over the summer, that the man poured all his falsehoods into.

That Tom Riddle was Voldemort from his school days, a shade trapped in a diary until a pathetic fraud of a man poured his soul into it and forgot to take it back.

Who made the mistake of letting one of his mudblood targets get away.

"Can't have any loose ends, you understand," the young Voldemort smirked, twirling Harry's wand with his spectral fingers. "Now. Speak to me, Slytherin, Greatest of the Hogwarts Four."

August 23rd, 1992

Not Weasley

The note was unsigned. Lucius Malfoy moved his mouth in some resemblance of a frown and moved his wand to vanish the parchment scrap from his desk and resume his preparations for visiting Diagon Alley. Midway through his spell, however, it went up in smoke, vanishing on its own and leaving only an ethereal form in its wake.

The Dark Mark.

Lucius hesitated over the mark, his eyes tracing every contour as the air currents in the room slowly blew it away. It matched his Dark Mark on his arm perfectly. It could be no forgery. He had heard whispers of his master being involved in the events that resulted in his son losing the House Cup at the end of his first year to Potter and his mudblood friend.

The game was afoot, it seemed.

Outside his study window in the branches of a willow, a straight-backed horned owl with markings around its eyes like horn-rimmed glasses ruffled its wings in self-congratulation before disembarking to the north.

End Year 2

Author's Note: Just gonna say, like hell was Percy going to let his little sister be possessed again, or his first love be attacked when he could stop it. Seriously. Like hell. Those events probably itched at him for years before all this. Unfortunately he did make a slight miscalculation, but he did what he could given the situation.

Fic Recommendation: The Shadow of Angmar by SteelBadger. Harry is magically abducted to Middle-Earth and rescued after Isildur slew Sauron. He travels Middle-Earth searchig for a way back home, and figuring out how to be a wizard in a world where Wizards are very different from Men.