Author's Note: First, thank you for reading and reviewing and for all of the PMs. Second, I'm glad you agree with Neville! In response to Umbridge, I couldn't have her acting like she did last time because the Minister is not worried about a Dumbledore takeover – but I wanted to keep her aggravating essence the same so I had to come up with something that highlights what a horrible person she is (but as a character is so much fun).

Harry will have some low points going forward, and some small high ones as well. I think that Charlie will be a big part of his recovery (but don't worry – I won't have them immediately get into it). I really want to be as honest with these feelings/situations as I can be.

Also, considering the number of reviews the last chapter got I think my next offer of someone getting to request a scene will come for the 150th review.

Posted 8/16/15

Standard disclaimer about not owning anything; I am so thankful for JKR and all that she did for us. She gave us one of the greatest gifts, and so many people have taken to this site and played brilliantly with her creation. We should have a JKR day and it should be a global holiday!

The first few weeks of classes had gone by faster than Harry had expected them to. In some ways it was good because the increased workload gave him something else to focus on besides the pain, but in other ways, his feelings of loneliness and depression would build up until he broke down into tears.

Fortunately, these episodes tended to happen at night and Harry found himself retreating into the chamber. Considering that he had the map and the cloak, he wasn't worried about getting caught after curfew; especially with the amount of stealth charms that he had been actively learning.

He still hadn't opened up about what he was dealing with though, but Sirius and his friends were not going to push him. Sirius had even arranged for him and Harry to have weekly dinners in his quarters, which had given them the opportunity to be close even though they hardly spoke about anything of real importance. Still, it made Sirius feel better than at least Harry was engaging him in small talk, which was more than he could say about their interactions in the later part of the summer.

Really, the only thing that bothered him about school was Defense Against the Dark Arts. Dolores Umbridge was a worse teacher than even Professor Binns, who most likely didn't even realize that he had died and just went on and on about Goblin rebellions ad nauseam. The trio had resorted to alternating between the book they were supposed to be using and Remus' helpful hints book, as Hermione had playfully noted one afternoon.

If anything, the school year was going quite well from an academic standpoint. Neville and him were working through his learning difficulties and they had been consistently been receiving Acceptable on their assignments – which Hermione thought was criminal – but Harry reminded her that Snape could be far worse. In fact, Snape had been taken aback by Harry's new approach to school and, though he would never admit this, was starting to look forward to Harry's essays. They reminded him of the way that Lilly used to speak about the subject, and the more time that passed, the more he unconsciously disassociated Harry and James Potter from each other.

One day, about three weeks into the school year, Harry cemented his new, bookish behavior when he resigned from the quidditch team.

"What do you mean you aren't playing this year?" Angelina Johnson asked, dumbfounded that one of the best players in the school was not playing this year.

As the new captain, it seriously threw a wrench into her plans for winning the Quidditch Cup this year.

"I just don't have it in me this year," Harry said honestly. He looked to Hermione and then to Ron. He didn't really need to explain it to them, and even with how much Ron was obsessed with the game – he completely understood why Harry didn't want to play.

Aside from it reminded him too much about Cedric and what they had been doing right before he had gotten kissed, he didn't see how he could devote as much time to his studies as he would have liked if he kept playing.

"It's my O.W.L. year and all and I really want to do well on my exams," he supplied.

Katie Bell, who had walked over to Harry with Angelina, had been more understanding since she had just gone through those exams last year.

"I understand, Harry, but there really is no one quite like you on a broom. There's always a spot if you reconsider." She looked pointedly at Angelina, trying to get across the very important point of 'catching more flies with honey than you do with vinegar.'

She took the hint.

"The spot is always yours if you want it," Angelina eventually said, not quite masking her disappointment but also not pushing as much as she wanted to.

"You all right, Harry?" Hermione asked after they turned and walked away.

"Eh," Harry shrugged. "I really don't see how I would have the time this year… and it's too soon for me considering Cedric and…" He didn't know how to finish and just went back to the assignment he was working on over lunch.

"I get it mate," Ron said, feeling it important to let Harry know that he had his support in this mater. But inside he was worried about his friend, and wondered if there was something that he could do – remembering back to his younger years at the Burrow – that he hadn't tried before. He excused himself and went to the owlery, where he decided to write his older brother a letter.

The next night was one of the worst episodes of depression that Harry had had yet. He felt like he couldn't breathe and that the tightness in his chest was slowly suffocating him. He quickly, and as quietly as he could so as not to wake his dorm mates, excited the room and made his way yet again to the chamber.

In the back of his mind he was aware that Ron had to have known about his problems sleeping, but so far hadn't said anything to him. He really did appreciate the support that they gave him and he didn't find it as difficult to be around them as he did other people.

He had gotten really good at sneaking past Moaning Myrtle and the few times he had been caught by her, he struck a deal wherein he would stop and chat for a few minutes if he were allowed to come and go in complete secrecy.

Harry didn't have to think anymore about the route or the odd, razor-sharp rocks in his path; he had inadvertently committed the journey to memory with how many times he had been down here since the beginning of the school year. Though, he couldn't explain why he felt better down here, considering it was where he had almost died, but he just knew that he did.

Perhaps it was the fact that no one would be able to get to him down here or that the slain Basilisk felt more in line with how he was feeling on the inside; it wasn't exactly the most welcoming place with a gigantic murderous creature lying in the middle of it.

But it was the only place where Harry could process his feelings about Cedric. Just thinking about him was enough to send into a deep, melancholy state, and he couldn't chance it with others around.

"Cedric…" he sighed aloud, hearing the echo reverberate off the cavern walls.

The ring that Cedric had given him had remained on his finger and the heart was still pointed inwards, signaling that he belonged to someone. He didn't have it in him to remove it; he wasn't ready.

He was still at a loss for how he had ended up going from one extreme to another.

"The cemetery – and then meeting my mum…" he exhaled sharply as he moved around the chamber, exploring each little crevice and antechamber.

"How I wish I could have known you guys," he said quietly, thinking of his parents. He found it easier to say what was on his mind by speaking it aloud.

"And then you came along, Cedric. Everything happened so fast, but we were getting to know one another and then… you went away."

He kicked at a rock and watched it sail across the empty space, skipping a few times before coming to a rest.

"I thought I was happy – I was happy – and I thought things were finally getting better. But it wasn't just because of you." He knew that there was more to his improved state than finally feeling like he belonged in his own body.

He reached up and put his hand over his barely visible scar.

"What were you?" he questioned, thinking back to his mother's hint that how he had gotten to see her had been important. He didn't know how it had happened, but he had suspected that something about his scar had had something to do with it. After that experience was when he really noticed how much easier thinking and everything else had been; it was when he first noticed that he had an attraction to guys and had been fortunate enough to act on it…

"Why is my life so confusing!" The shout echoed for a while.

He knew that adolescence was a difficult time for most kids his age, but he highly doubted that what he had been through was anywhere near normal.

He circled back in front of Salazar, alternating his focus between the snake and one of the founders.

"It doesn't make any sense. Why did Voldemort come after my parents, and then the events with the stone and then this place."

He almost couldn't even process everything that he had done in his life – even for a wizard it was abnormal.

"But what I really don't understand – what really bothers me – is why Voldemort went through all of that trouble to get me with the Tournament."

He just didn't get it, and something in his mind, really deep down, was starting to think that all of these events were linked together. It couldn't be a coincidence.

He had somewhat learned the beginning stages of Occlumency, and had thoroughly organized his mind. He felt confident that he could move onto the next step and decided to ask Sirius about it at their next meal. The sooner he could master this then the sooner that Dumbledore would tell him about his scar and why Voldemort had come after him.

But, whatever nagging thing it was that he couldn't quite put together, he was sick of it. Harry Potter was sick and tired of dealing with this shit. It was just one thing after the other. He was angry now - but he was still depressed, which only made everything feel worse.

But that little spark of fight that would never leave him, no matter how much he had been up against wouldn't let him give up.

"Next time," he resolved to himself and stared at Salazar, "I will be ready to face him." It seemed the only, obvious option that he had in front of him. Whatever uncertainties he had in his life about moving on from Cedric – and whatever feelings that had developed or had been developing or why it had happened at all – he knew at least one thing that would always weigh over his head: Voldemort. And now that he was back in a body and pissed off, Harry just knew that they would meet again.

"I'm not going to let him win again, whatever his deal with me is. I promise you that Salazar Slytherin…," he had started to say, intent on making a point of resolve in front of Tom Riddle's ancestor. However, the moment he had said 'Slytherin,' inadvertently in parseltongue no less, the stone mouth opened again.

He tensed quickly, his wand held out in front of him and he was using all of his senses trying to understand the situation in case he needed to react quickly.

A few seconds passed and nothing happened, and his mind went back to the first time he had been here and had heard Tom Riddle call forth his Basilisk.

"Speak to me Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwart's four."

"Of course," he breathed in relief. "That was how the Basilisk could come out, just like how the entrance was opened or that stairs were called!"

Harry stood there, curious at the opening. He wondered what lay within it; surely there was not another Basilisk? The more he thought about it, the more intrigued he became about the whole thing. He made up his mind rather quickly, though he did admit this whole thing was a bit rash.

"Lumos," he chanted, powering his wand to light the darkness.

Then, he ventured through the mouth and down what he imagined based on the incline was a short tunnel that led to a big, circular chamber made of the same stone material. There was snakeskin everywhere.

But there was also a door.

He wondered if Tom Riddle had ever ventured inside here, but then thought about the fact that a Basilisk would have been in here as well. He wasn't so sure that he would have thought to explore a Basilisk's nest unless it wasn't there – and, in Voldemort's case, he seemed too intent on using this thing to kill rather than to explore it.

"He had already found the chamber and the monster. But, perhaps the Basilisk had told him that there was something inside. I guess there is really only one way to see if he knew about the door."

He said even as he approached it and slowly reached for the handle. It wasn't locked, but the hinges were rusty and it creaked open.

Inside the doorway, Harry saw a small room with an even smaller desk. There were no cobwebs though.

"Of course! Spiders flee before it!" He really liked how much easier it was for him to not only recall things, but to be able to make the connections between things quicker.

There was a small bookshelf in the corner; however, it was empty and there was a thick coating of dust on it. Harry peered around the desk and saw that there was nothing else of note.

He was still debating whether Voldemort had even been here or not. The place looked like it hadn't been used in years; he just didn't know how many years it had been since it had been used.

He spent a little more time exploring the Basilisk's lair – when he paused suddenly. He had been putting in a lot of time studying now and felt that he had a pretty good handle on potions and the various magical ingredients and he couldn't believe why he didn't think of this sooner.

Here he was, one of the only people in the world with access to a Basilisk – a slain one no less, and he had never considered the veritable fortune that was around him. He would have to think of a way to use this and he made a mental note to look up all of the different ingredients that he could use.

"I bet Snape would kill to get down here." He snorted.

'Wait,' he though. 'Why didn't Snape know about this? Surely, Dumbledore had informed them about what was down here – or was it because he couldn't access this place so he just didn't bother?'

It gave Harry something else to think about; but, in general, he felt a little better about life before he had ventured down here.

At any rate, he was finally starting to feel like he would be able to sleep and he headed back to Gryffindor tower. Perhaps he would bring Hermione and Ron down here next time; it seemed like just the place where they would be able to practice some defense since Umbridge seemed intent on not teaching them anything.

All during his walk to the portrait of the Fat Lady he wondered just what her angle was in teaching that way. Harry had been blatantly ignoring her in class and simply retreated into his mind to avoid her incessant chatter about Dementors and other creatures and how her book's theoretical offerings would protect them.

Harry thought Quirrell was a better teacher.

The next few days were business as usual. The only mild nuisance was that Draco was trying to get under his skin about not playing quidditch this year.

"You scared, Potter? Was it the Dementors?" he kept going on any chance he got. Luckily, Harry spent the majority of his time now half inside his mind. And really, once he sobered up to the fact that he had faced Voldemort on several occasions and survived, his once legendary rivalry with the pompous twit really was quite laughable. Draco was all bark and no bite – and it made it easy to ignore him.

But everything changed at Lunch. It was a Friday and the only classes that were left for him were Charms and Herbology.

It had been an uneventful week considering how it had began with his foray into the Chamber over the weekend when he tended to have the most trouble with falling asleep. During the week was always a little easier for him because all of the work from classes kept him busy and so his mind was always thinking about something.

Anyways, he was surprised to discover that he had mail. The only person who had really ever written to him had been Sirius when he was on the run and they had to use 'Snuffles' as a cover. Who could be writing to him now?

Harry opened the letter and immediately looked at the bottom of it to see whom it had come from.

"Ron, why is your brother writing to me?" Harry absentmindedly said out loud.

The red head's cheeks grew slightly purple as he stammered his response.

"Well, I wrote to Charlie to see if he would be willing to talk to you. I don't mean to over step my bounds into your business, Harry; but as your best mate and all, I am worried about you."

It was said quietly, though not many people were around as they had begun to sit at the end of table to have a little more room, and privacy, to themselves. Also, they needed the extra room as Hermione always had several texts sprawled out before her and Harry wasn't any better. Heck, Ron even opened the occasional text - that really just demonstrated how serious they were all taking things.

"But why Charlie?" Harry asked, not at all angry with what Ron had done. He was honestly surprised his friends hadn't done something like this sooner.

"Well, he has been through some things as well; things that I didn't fully understand when I was younger. I thought it would give you someone to talk to if you wanted that. We know," he turned to Hermione, "that you should talk to someone, and even if it isn't us or Sirius, we still think you would benefit from it."

Ron was expecting Harry to be upset with him, but he had known it was a possibility when he had done it. It may have been a little uncomfortable for Harry to face this unexpectedly, but he couldn't fault his friends. He knew that they truly cared for him and maybe it was time he talked to someone else about this, someone that he wouldn't have to see that often but yet wasn't a total stranger.

"I'll read it after class, Ron. Thanks," Harry said, folding the letter and putting it in his pocket. He couldn't start thinking about all of that now, not with just two more classes till the weekend. He would read it later that night.

Ron was a little surprised with how well Harry had seemed to take the intrusion into his personal life – but Hermione had thought it had been a terrific sign that Harry was slowly getting back to normal and had told Ron quietly about her thought as they made their way to Charms.

Friday afternoons always went by quickly because of how much they enjoyed the subjects and given that the weekend was right around the corner.

Harry kept true to his word and waited until he was in bed that night before he unfolded the piece of parchment and read it.

Harry,

I don't mean to intrude into your life or pry. It is just that your friends are worried about you, and I would have to agree with them. You see, Ron wrote to me and asked if I would share with you what happened to me. He knows that there was a period of time when I was very depressed and struggling to make it through the day. I think he got it more from my brothers and mum, who you have met, so you know how flustered she can get at times when something is out of her control.

But I don't think Ron ever knew the entire story – he just knew that something had happened and that it took me a few years to become 'normal' again. Though, between you and me, sometimes there isn't a way back to normal because some things can never be the same after a tragedy.

Anyways, I get it: that sense of overwhelming loss and numbness that happens when you lose someone you love – or are close to. I knew about you and Cedric from the moment I saw you two. The stolen glances that you would share when you thought no one was looking. I will never forget that night because what happened to you reminded me so much of what happened to me. I know there are no words that I could ever say or that anyone could ever say to make things better for you. It is going to be hard for a while, and life is going to feel pretty dreary and dark and sometimes it is going to be hard to even get out of bed.

I debated whether or not to write to you after that incident, to share with you my story in the hopes that it would help. But it was too soon and I knew from experience that it wouldn't help then. But when Ron wrote to me and told me what had happened afterwards and how you finally came to say it out loud, to acknowledge it, I thought it might be worth giving it a try.

Things will get better, and I know that many people have said this to you – and they are right – but it doesn't mean the same coming from someone who doesn't know, who hasn't experienced it. It will take time and it may take you a while to realize you have made any progress towards healing at all, but you will get there.

And I KNOW this Harry because I went through it.

You see, before we met briefly during your first year at Hogwarts (when Hagrid had that Dragon), I fell in love. He was another Dragon Tamer at the reserve and it was magical; I had never felt so alive. One day, everything changed. A nesting mother got aggravated at another Dragon for wondering so close – and this Dragon was younger and had been separated from its family and likely looking to the other Dragon for support – and attacked it. It took everyone to separate the two before we lost the younger one. Geoff, that was his name, died trying to restrain the nesting mother. We had only been dating for a few months, and suddenly, it was over.

I was a wreck for a long time. I couldn't sleep. I could barely eat anything. I was out in Romania and I had no one to talk to; Dragon Tamers are very solitary people at times and some aren't big on talking. Even if they were, what would I have said to them? It was hard; I won't lie to you. Those were some of the worst days I have ever experienced and they seemed to go on forever. But they won't, Harry. What happened was horrible; there is no way around that. But don't hold it all in because that will only make it worse. Find someone to talk to about this. If you take only one thing away from this, please, let it be that. Don't suffer on the inside and make what was already horrible, worse. It doesn't have to be Ron or Hermione or anyone you know, as long as you feel comfortable talking to them.

It will make a huge difference. I wish someone had told me that, though, I doubt I would have listened. Don't come to remember Cedric and always associate him with tragedy because then you aren't remembering all of the other times that you had.

I hope I haven't overstepped, and if I did, well, I am not sorry. But I do hope this helps you in some way.

You are not alone, Harry. Just remember that you have people that love you and care for you. Lean on them now.

Charlie Weasley.

Thoughts?

I deleted the next chapter. I will repost after I am satisfied with it. It wasn't my best and I shouldn't have posted it.