Harry

When he'd woken that morning, Harry had been less than pleased to hear via a House Elf that he was under… well, house arrest was the best way he could think to describe it. He'd had a very odd dream last night that Snape had been in to visit him and asked him about his relatives, or his clothes, or possibly about his flying ability, Harry wasn't really sure.

He certainly couldn't figure out what he'd done to warrant being put under house arrest, but figured that Snape didn't need a reason in the end. He decided to clean his room and belongings, just in case Snape really had been in his room last night, and that was the reason the man was locking him up. Harry had met the schoolwork deadline two days early, so his teacher couldn't be angry about that, and he had always been on time when he was supposed to report to his professor. He'd learned that adults didn't really need a proper reason to punish him, and summer holidays were usually littered with unwarranted punishments, so Harry didn't think about it for too long.

To say that he was astonished to learn that he had a godfather was an understatement. That the man was a criminal apparently bent on his destruction seemed typical of his life so far, and if Harry had been with any other adult he'd have been asking a million and one questions. The inadvertent one that he'd let slip had been enough of a shock to both him and Snape, especially when the man hadn't stormed out shouting about Harry's rudeness. He'd decided not to push his luck.

He did wonder what was so bad that the murderous godfather was the easier news to impart. Snape hadn't been too pleased talking about Harry's past, but the teen knew the man in front of him well enough to know that there was another shoe hanging over his head, waiting to drop with a sickening thud.

"I had occasion to mark your clothes, Potter," Snape continued after a short silence, and Harry frowned, wondering for a moment how you would grade a uniform before realising that Snape had noticed something about what he was wearing.

"My uniform, sir?" Harry queried, "Is it… should I be wearing something else?"

"School is currently out of session," Snape looked as if he'd heard exactly what Harry had first thought and was restraining his impulse to utter scathing remarks, "I had thought you would wear the clothes you usually wore at this time of year."

"Usually I'm with my Aunt and Uncle, sir," Harry didn't want to talk about this at all, and so chose his words carefully, "I thought that as I was still at school I should continue to wear my uniform."

"As I said, Potter, your attire had aroused some mild curiosity on my part. Last night you gave me a partial explanation for the rags you have concealed in your trunk. As the Headmaster made me temporarily responsible for you, I felt it my duty to investigate further, which brings us to the second issue we must discuss."

"That wasn't a dream?" Harry blurted and then got himself sharply under control. He had desperately hoped that the bit about Snape in a tutu had been some sort of hallucination. There was a faint tickling sensation in the back of his head, and Snape's eyes narrowed hatefully.

"The conversation wasn't, the image in your mind undoubtedly was," he was sharply informed, "I'll thank you not to share it with any one else."

"No sir," Harry nodded, breaking eye contact, which also ended the tickling sensation. His mind was whirling at the confirmation that Snape could indeed read thoughts, a scary revelation.

"During the course of my investigation I had reason to exchange words with your Aunt and Uncle, an experience that was almost as unpleasant as teaching Longbottom," Snape said dryly and Harry cringed. His magic-averse relatives would not have been smart enough to be civil to the man before him, and he had no doubt that Snape was going to make him pay for whatever insults his uncle had shouted at the older wizard.

"Your aunt, who bears no resemblance to her sister in appearance, temperament or intellect, informed me during the course of our… discussion that she wished to terminate her guardianship of you. As I am your temporary guardian, the wards of protection centred on your aunt's house chose to transfer their guardianship of you to me in its entirety. We are now bound together as guardian and ward until you come of age in five years time."

Harry's mind whirled in shock, and it was all he could do not to gape at the man opposite him. His aunt had made Snape his guardian in her place? He was stuck with yet another adult who hated him until he was seventeen? True, he'd always known that his relatives hated him in some form or another, but to hear that he'd been coolly handed over as an unwanted burden was still something of a blow. The tickling sensation was back, but Harry was too stunned and hurt, and even a little afraid, to try and break eye contact, let alone mind that the man could see his thoughts.

"As such, I have devised a schedule of potions for you to take to combat the damage done to you by those Muggles in your formative years. These will be delivered with your meals, and I will know if you don't take them promptly," Snape went on after a moment, "You will also be provided with a wardrobe more suitable to a young man of your stature in society. You may keep your cousins rags for a while longer, however, as I plan to take a trip to Salazar's Chamber tomorrow, with you guiding me. I will also ask the castle to come up with a door sentinel for your rooms. I prefer that you remain here for now, though that will change if you in any way abuse my trust. Any infraction of the rules I have set will have you moved into my rooms where I will keep a very close eye upon you. Is that understood?"

"Yes sir," Harry said dazedly, "Stay in my rooms when you leave the castle, stay in the castle when you are not with me, only go out in the grounds with an adult escort and take the potions promptly."

He'd learned at a young age to repeat the 'rules' back perfectly, though he couldn't quite understand why doing so now made Snape look displeased. He'd probably been looking forward to dishing out some sort of punishment.

"What time do you want me to be in the foyer tomorrow?" Harry pushed his thoughts aside for now, and straightened. He'd deal with all of this in private.

"Eight promptly, and you will continue to be prompt in our evening meetings as well," Snape replied, "I will expect to see you properly attired – school uniforms are not appropriate when school is not in session. Dizzy will bring your things."

"Yes sir," Harry said again, and Snape nodded sharply before sweeping out of the room. The green eyed teen heard the door at the bottom of the stairs slam shut and slumped on his makeshift seat. He wasn't sure if things had just gotten better or worse.

0o0o0o0

The arrival of Dizzy was a very welcome distraction. Harry had been surprised to see another house elf, having somehow got the idea that they were quite rare in the Wizarding world. This elf was quite different to Dobby, it didn't cringe or overreact the same way Dobby had, leading Harry to wonder if Dobby was affected more by the beatings and punishments than Harry had suspected.

Dizzy was carrying a small trunk, which she enlarged and placed beside his school trunk. It had his initials on it as well, so Harry took that to mean that he was its owner. Part of him was mildly indignant that Snape had taken so much of a liberty with his money, but when he asked for his key back Dizzy informed him that Master Snape had paid for these things and was keeping Harry's key 'safe', whatever that meant. It had always been perfectly safe before, he'd never lose something that important.

He pondered over the idea that Snape had bought the trunk and its contents for him, wondering how much the Potions Master hated the idea. Harry was usually careful of his uniforms, and the Weasley jumpers, so being careful of the new clothes wouldn't be too hard. He wouldn't want his 'guardian' to think he didn't appreciate the money spent. Snape certainly hadn't stinted on the job. There were winter and summer clothes there, all of good quality, all plain and simple colours. Harry was relieved that he wasn't to be dressed in Slytherin or Gryffindor colours – he might be proud of his house but he didn't think red and gold were his best combination. Neither were silver and green.

Dizzy had been very clever in her purchases. There were the traditional over robe, similar in cut to his student ones, but for underneath the clothes were a Muggle style, slightly more formal than he was used to wearing but nothing he could object to. There were slacks and linen shirts in various weights and colours, as well as waistcoats to match the slacks. Some of the shirts had collars, others didn't, and despite the formal style they were very comfortable when he put them on. He left the outer robe off for now, not being in the habit of wearing one in private, and investigated the pyjamas and under things that Dizzy had also provided. There was even a pair of house shoes, which were a more formal version of Muggle slippers, and some ankle high boots that reminded him vaguely of Doc Martins.

"Thanks Dizzy, these are… very smart," Harry smiled at the elf, which had stayed to supervise his exploration and change out of uniform. She smiled and blushed faintly, patting his arm in response.

"Master Snape was very specific," Dizzy piped clearly, "There is one more."

Harry frowned, glancing into the trunk. It was bigger on the inside to accommodate all that it held, and he couldn't imagine that he'd need much more than this. There were even new school uniforms for next year, which he'd transferred to his school trunk. He'd piled up the Dursley clothes, keeping the best two shirts and pair of trousers for tomorrow, along with the hugely oversized trainers. Dizzy had banished the rest, a dark gleam in her eye, before hugging Harry sympathetically. This was more contact than he was used to in the course of the summer holidays, but he hugged back gamely, vaguely happy that she wasn't crying like Dobby had.

"I can't imagine I'd need anything else," he told the little elf, but she nodded emphatically and pulled a small velvet pouch from nowhere. It was a dark green colour, with silver draw strings, and when Harry took it from the elf, it was heavy. He opened the bag carefully and gasped when a heavy fob watch slid out into his palm, trailing a chain. It had a complicated design traced on it, one that seemed to move if Harry looked at it for too long, and it had two hinged covers. The front face told Muggle time, a simple white and gold face. The back face told you where you should be, or if you were late, a green face with black writing upon it.

"It's… wow…" Harry gaped at the elf, and then allowed her to show him how to clip it on the chain into his waistcoat. There was a small pocket especially designed for it, and the weight of the watch there was very reassuring. As he'd been wearing a watch he'd salvaged from Dudley's second bedroom, this was a big step up in the world.

"It's nickel," Dizzy informed him, "No polishing required!"

She handed him a small leaflet and then told him goodbye, popping off to do whatever it was elves did when they were out of sight. Harry curled into the armchair and read the leaflet carefully. The watch would wind itself for as long as he wore it, and would give more accurate readings on the back face the longer he had it. Apparently it needed to get used to his schedule, a concept that didn't at all strike Harry as odd. He told the watch about his evening schedule and his morning meeting tomorrow and then put it back in his pocket, leaning into his armchair and trying to assimilate the information of the morning.

At lunch time, marked by the arrival of his tray of sandwiches, Harry swallowed the accompanying potion at once, grimaced through the taste and fell on the pumpkin juice to clear his mouth. Thirst slaked, he nibbled on a couple of ham and pickle sandwiches before taking a few pieces of fruit and returning to his armchair. He'd just finished a really crisp apple when the stones above his door swelled a little and resolved themselves into a snake. The snake eyed him for a moment, and then arranged itself comfortably, draping its coils over his lintel.

"Hello," Harry thought it best to be polite, and the snake raised its head higher to look him over again.

"Greetings Little One," it replied, "My name is Seth."

"Hello Seth," Harry smiled, "I'm Harry."

"You are the Little One, who owns these chambers," Seth corrected, "I am one of your guardians."

"One of?" Harry asked, blushing at the new nickname. Why couldn't he ever be called something normal, why did his nicknames all have to be embarrassing or really over the top?

"My sister Seketh guards your outer door," Seth confirmed, nodding regally.

"You two can communicate with each other, and you can tell me when I have a guest," Harry realised, "Are you Egyptian Asps? Your names…"

"We are," Seth looked ridiculously pleased that Harry had noticed that little detail, "We will also trap anyone who should not be near you between us. Herself thought it best that you have this additional defence, and in addition no one but our Little One can gain access to these rooms."

That made sense. If Hogwarts, and that was who Harry thought Seth was referring to when he said Herself, had arranged for snakes to guard the door, then parsel tongue would be required to gain entry. Harry was the only person who could speak to snakes around, and in addition to this no one would be able to copy his password – they wouldn't understand it.

Harry beamed and looked up at the ceiling above him for lack of any better direction.

"Thanks," he called, and Seth nodded in approval before curling up and going to sleep.

0o0o0o0

The new watch had a nice chime to it, and warned him in plenty of time to be ready for his morning meeting. He left it on his desk though, not wanting to risk damaging the thing sliding down to the Chamber.

Harry was of two minds about their return. On the one hand it would be interesting to properly explore the chamber and see what Slytherin had left behind besides a homicidal snake, but on the other hand he wasn't too sure about returning to the place where Ginny had nearly been killed by Voldemort so soon. Seeing the corpse of his victim was also going to be unnerving – sentient or not, that Basilisk had lived for a very long time.

Snape was waiting outside his door. The Potions Master was wearing a robe that had a very large pink stain over it – Harry thought it looked kind of like the stain that black cloth fades into when its had bleach splashed on it. He also had a very large satchel that Harry assumed had a lot of expanded space inside it for all the ingredients he was hoping to find down there.

"Good morning, Professor," Harry offered the greeting politely, though Snape only grunted in reply, sweeping his eyes over Harry's clothes. Dudley's rags didn't fit him any better than they had when first handed over to him, and Harry was wearing two shirts to ward off the chill of the Chamber. Snape pulled his wand out and snapped out a quiet spell which shrunk the clothes swimming on Harry's frame to a good fit, including the shoes.

"Thank you sir," Harry said meekly, trying not to show that he was annoyed that his teacher hadn't bothered to warn him what the spell was. He'd flinched pretty badly, something that he hated doing, because it gave the other person control over you.

"Do you have everything you'll need Potter?" Snape hadn't responded to his quiet thanks last night either, and Harry figured the man wasn't comfortable with appearing to do something nice.

"Um… I'd like my wand sir, for defence only," Harry hastened to add, "And, are we collecting Fawkes on our way there?"

"What do you need the Phoenix for?" Snape asked, not moving an inch. Harry figured that he wasn't going to be getting his wand either and swallowed a sigh.

"The entry is very steep, sir, and I never found another way out. Fawkes had to carry all of us back up the slope. If we don't take him then we'll need a rope at least, or a ladder of some kind," Harry replied, and Snape sighed before jerking his head. He set off at a brisk pace for the dungeons, though he turned in the direction of Mr Filch's office. Harry bit down on another sigh as he trotted along behind, unable to keep up with the older mans pace. He suspected that his teacher was walking this quickly on purpose, to make him feel smaller than he was.

Filch ended up lending them a small rope ladder, which would barely reach past the entry to the Chamber. Harry figured that it must expand magically, and managed not to ask any questions that would annoy the other man. Snape led the way back to the foyer, and stopped at the bottom of the grand staircase.

"Here," he thrust Harry's wand at him, "In emergencies only, or with my permission, Potter. I will confiscate it if you disobey me."

"Yes sir," Harry ran his fingers over his wand lightly before tucking it into a belt loop. Snape raised an impatient eyebrow, and Harry realised that the other man didn't know where the entrance to the Chamber was.

"It's the haunted girl's toilet on the third floor that we need, sir," Harry informed his teacher, and the man swept a sarcastic hand out, indicating that Harry was to go first. The teen scurried quickly up the stairs, hoping that Myrtle would be able to keep her mouth shut about all the things they'd done in there last year. It was for this reason that he peered around cautiously upon his entrance, though Snape chose to interpret his actions as cowardice.

"She can't hurt you Potter," the potions master sneered, "She's non-corporeal."

"She was killed by the Basilisk," Harry glanced back at the tall man, hoping that he wasn't violating a Rule by trying to explain, "She reminds me of what could have happened to Ginny."

He located the sink and squinted at the snake, glad that the torch illuminating this toilet was guttering, thus causing the snake to appear as if it was writhing on the tap.

"Open," he hissed and stood back as the sinks shifted, the dark hole yawning before them. Snape secured the ladder to some pipe work with a series of spells and then kicked the rungs into the hole. Harry watched it unfurl, and then unfurl, and unfurl some more before a faint clunk announced it had hit the bottom.

"It's really filthy down there, and the landing is a bit rough," Harry warned, but Snape just scowled and gestured for him to go first. Harry resisted the urge to shrug, knowing that would be against a Rule, and jumped into the hole, his breath catching as he slid rapidly down the pipe beside the ladder until he was spat out at the bottom. He rolled quickly to his feet and got out of the way, the dried skeletons crunching under his feet.

Four minutes later, according to Dudley's watch, Snape appeared, stepping off the rope ladder. Harry blushed – he hadn't even considered using the ladder to get down – and waited for his teacher to lose interest in the bones beneath their feet.

"Which way, Potter?" Snape asked after a moment, and Harry pointed the way. He'd lit his wand when he first arrived, and when Snape also used the lumos spell Harry took the lead once more, following the tunnel to the place where the ceiling had caved in.

"Was this here before?" Snape asked, concern shading his voice for the first time. Harry shook his head, wondering what the teachers had been told about the events in the Chamber. Obviously not much if Snape didn't know that Lockhart was responsible for this particular obstacle.

"Professor Lockhart stole Ron's wand when we came across an old skin that the Basilisk had shed. He was going to take a bit of the skin back up and tell everyone that he'd killed the monster after it killed Ginny, and destroyed the memories of Ron and me. Ron's wand exploded though, and part of the roof caved in. Lock… I mean Professor Lockhart was obliviated entirely, and he and Ron were separated from me. I went on while Ron moved enough rocks for us to get back," Harry explained in a quiet voice, though it was hard to be polite about Lockhart in the light of his treachery.

"You didn't use a repair spell?" Snape frowned and Harry shook his head.

"I didn't want to risk it going wrong sir, and Ron's wand wasn't reliable," he pointed to the narrow opening that Ginny and he had crawled through, "That's where we got through."

"Lockhart wasn't reliable either," Snape retorted, cancelling the light spell on his wand, "What on earth made you choose him for assistance?"

"Lockhart may have been useless," Harry was stung out of politeness in an effort to defend his choices, "But if he was going to get Ginny out he needed to know what we'd figured out about the Chamber and the Basilisk. When we got to his office he was packing to leave, but Ron and I disarmed him and forced him to come along."

"For Salazar's sake, why?" Snape spluttered, and Harry turned his face away, not wanting the older man to see the feelings he was unable to hide. He thought that Snape could only read his mind through eye contact and didn't want the man to know how terrified he'd been.

"Because he was an adult! Even if he was a coward he must have known more defence spells than we did. There wasn't time to go to anyone else; by the time we'd made McGonagall listen Ginny could have died!"

Harry was fairly certain that the anguish he was feeling had come across clearly in his voice, and struggled to regain his control. Adults seemed to be very unreliable, no matter which world he was in, and Harry wondered if he'd ever find someone other than Ron and Hermione that he could trust to watch his back when things were at their worst.

"Well, there will be no more of your foolishness. I am your guardian now. Next time, should there even be a next time, and knowing you Potter there will be, you will come to me," Snape informed him coldly and stepped forward without waiting for Harry to reply. The teen watched his teacher repair the damaged tunnel with a series of really powerful spells before bending to examine the shed skin.

0o0o0o0

They spent some time gathering the shed skin into a special pouch, and then Snape spent a good ten minutes going over the door of the Chamber itself, which Harry had shoved on their way out, hoping it would shut. Harry directed his wand light onto it helpfully and stood back, wondering at the Slytherin mind that could be so fascinated by a vault door with snakes on it. Eventually he opened it for his teacher, and they were immediately assaulted by the smell of rotting Basilisk. Snape merely produced a couple of cloths, one of which he tied around his mouth and nose. Harry discovered that when he did the same something about the cloth blocked the smell. You didn't have to be a mind reader to understand that he was surprised by this, because Snape rolled his eyes.

"The cloth is charmed to heat up if the fumes become toxic, otherwise the charm would be as much of a hazard to the wearer as whatever they were handling," Harry was informed impatiently, "Now come along, Potter."

He came along as ordered, climbing into the Chamber itself, walking a step behind and to the side of his teacher, his wand held aloft to illuminate the statues around them. It was very slimy still, with pools of water mirroring the distant cavernous roof. Water was dripping somewhere, and at the far end of the cavern Salazar's giant statue rested, its mouth still open. In front of it lay the tattered corpse of the Basilisk. Snape stood still for a moment before hurrying to the corpse. Closer up, Harry could see that the rodents that the Basilisk had preyed upon had in turn gnawed upon it. Several of their corpses lay scattered around the remains, evidently poisoned by the Basilisk's flesh.

Snape knew a spell to make his wand light up without anyone holding it, and stuck it in the mouth of the nearest statue. Harry copied the spell cautiously and laid his own wand in the opposite statue, missing his teacher's look of surprise.

"What do you want me to do sir?" Harry asked quietly, knowing that there would be some sort of task waiting for him. Off to one side he could see the blood that marked the spot where he had collapsed, waiting to die, and beyond it the dried puddle of ink that the diary had spewed forth when he'd stabbed it with the tooth that had so nearly killed him. He didn't like being here at all, but knew better than to complain about it. It seemed to be his lot in life to be forced into places he'd rather not be.

"For now, you can pass me instruments and store the samples I give you," Snape's voice recalled Harry to the present, "What were you staring at?"

Harry wanted to say 'nothing' but his teacher had already followed his line of sight and stalked over to stare down at the little spot of Harry's blood and the remains of the ink puddle. An expression twisted the mans face for a moment, but it was gone before Harry could read it, and when his teacher turned to look at Harry again, his face was devoid of expression.

"Stand over here, Potter," Snape directed and Harry found himself positioned so that he couldn't see the blood any more. Harry was grateful for that, even though he didn't think his teacher had done it on purpose.

0o0o0o0

After three days of descending to the Chamber, Harry was almost sanguine about the place. Snape had him hand instruments and jars up to the taller man, and then stow the filled containers in the leather satchel his teacher carried each time. They avoided Myrtle every time they entered or exited the Chamber, much to Harry's relief. She knew far too much about what they'd been up to in that toilet for Harry's piece of mind, and he certainly didn't want Hermione to get in trouble for brewing Polyjuice Potion with stolen ingredients.

Snape, of course, noticed him looking for the spiteful ghost, and as they walked towards the vault door on the morning of the fourth day chose to assure Harry in his most sarcastic tone that Moaning Myrtle was no threat to the Boy Who Lived.

"It's not that," Harry was stung into replying, something that he was sure to land him in trouble. He bit his lip to keep the rest in, halting as they came to the closed Chamber door. Today they were to search the Chamber and see what else had been left behind by Slytherin. Harry hoped that Fawkes was keeping an ear out, because if there was an emergency that took Snape out, it was unlikely that Harry would be able to get the man to safety alone.

"What is it then?" Snape leaned casually on the vault door, one hand caressing one of the snakes absently. Harry's teacher seemed to really like this door, something about the artistry appealed to him. Harry had to admit that it was a very impressive piece of spell work, especially as it appeared to have been spelled entirely in parsel tongue. He wondered what other spells Salazar Slytherin had known or created in that language, but as everyone seemed to think speaking to snakes was slightly evil he didn't want to inquire further. He'd had enough of being a figure of fear and suspicion thank you very much.

"Its… she was his first ever victim," Harry fidgeted with the hem of his worn t-shirt. He missed being able to wear the nicer clothes his teacher had bought for him, even if they were a bit more formal than he would have chosen for himself. He liked that they fit him, and had been bought solely for him, even if it had been done on the order of a man that had been unexpectedly lumbered with his guardianship.

"Who's victim? The Basilisk?" Snape sounded surprised, and Harry shook his head. He looked up at his teacher, making clear eye contact and stumbling into an explanation of sorts, knowing that the eye contact would help his teacher read his thoughts and experiences, and hoping that would make what he was saying clearer.

"When the Chamber was first opened fifty years ago, it was done by a student here by the name of Tom Riddle. Myrtle used to follow people about so she could spy and report on them, and when she caught him opening the Chamber she became the first person he killed with the Basilisk, though there were a number of incidences with the animals at the school before hand. When the governors threatened to shut the school, Riddle would have ended back in the Muggle orphanage where he grew up full time, so he pretended to catch Hagrid opening the Chamber. Hagrid was actually raising an acromantula by the name of Aragog, but because he escaped into the Forbidden Forest, no one could prove that Aragog was or wasn't the monster. Tom Riddle grew up to be the man you know as Lord Voldemort," Harry sighed, "He told me all this when I was trying to save Ginny. Before I killed the memory of himself that he'd trapped in a diary."

"The Dark Lord's true name is Tom Riddle?" Snape looked like he'd been slapped with a wet fish, and Harry nodded, bearing up under the mental 'tickle' that was Snape's mind-whammy-thing.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle," Harry replied, "He's got an award for Special Services to the School for turning in Hagrid."

"It's in the Slytherin trophy case," Snape sounded dazed and the tickling feeling faded away. Harry waited until his teacher had straightened away from the door and opened it, letting his teacher climb in first once more.

There was nothing at all left of the Basilisk, even the bones had been brought up to Snape's dungeon workroom. The man hadn't let a single part of the creature go to waste, and Harry had learned a lot about dissection and ingredient gathering in the last three days.

When he gained the floor next to his teacher, Harry waited patiently for instructions. He'd already had the 'you will not touch anything/wander off/do more than breathe under pain of punishment' speech upstairs, along with the 'I won't be killed by your foolish Gryffindor tendencies' speech. Harry had borne it silently; knowing that to protest or defend himself would only cause trouble. He was well aware that Salazar Slytherin hadn't been the nicest of the Founders, and didn't want to spring a very old booby trap that could get anyone hurt or killed.

"Light your wand," the impatient instruction made Harry jump a little, but he did as he was told, and watched as his teacher did the same.

Snape stalked off, with Harry close on his heels. He watched as his Professor examined the walls and statues slowly and carefully, determined not to do anything to distract or irritate the man while he was working. Despite the fact that Snape could be domineering, sarcastic and downright nasty, he hadn't actually punished Harry for anything since the school broke up, and his demands had been reasonable. Harry would have preferred the man didn't read his mind at the drop of a broomstick, but that couldn't be helped and he avoided eye contact whenever he politely could, which did limit the opportunities Snape had for his mental rummaging. Harry wasn't sure if the man was trying to catch him in a lie or merely thought he was incapable of clearly expressing himself.

They had reached the large statue at the far end of the cavern, its mouth gaping open. There was a slight breeze from the mouth, and Snape waded through a particularly deep puddle to get to it.

"Careful, sir, that thing opens and closes," Harry felt obliged to warn his reluctant guardian, "Its password activated, but the Basilisk must have had a way to open and close it as well, because it clearly was feeding on the rodents around here."

Snape nodded in acknowledgement, but leaned into the mouth anyway. Harry tensed, and sure enough the mouth began to close as his teachers weight activated what Harry assumed was a counter balance somewhere.

"Open!" Harry hissed urgently, reversing the action and Snape slithered into the puddle with an undignified splash. He shot Harry a dark look, but Harry was too relieved to be worried about it. In other circumstances the undignified landing might have been funny, but he was all too aware that death was well acquainted with this Chamber and didn't want to tempt fate. The Head of Slytherin being eaten by a statue of the Founder of his House was not something that Harry could laugh at.

"We need to find a way to keep the mouth open, Potter. There is something behind this statue," Snape informed him, and Harry frowned, looking around for something to wedge into the mouth.

"There isn't anything to wedge in there, Professor, and if there is a command to keep the mouth open, I certainly don't know it," he reported after a moment.

Snape nodded and then motioned him further back. Harry watched, a little awed, as his teacher proceeded to take apart the statue, removing the pieces that could move with surgical precision, and dismantling several hefty spells as well.

"My Founder was not as clever as he would have liked to think," Snape sounded a little breathless when the stunning display was over. The air was slippery with the residue of the spells, which told Harry that some of them had been Dark in nature. It was this awareness that prompted him to raise his wand as his teacher approached the hole where the mouth had been, and that was all that allowed him to react in time when the mouth of the statue spewed forth a luminescent vile green liquid.

Harry shouted, a wordless noise, and he felt magic go coursing through him and out of his wand. Whatever the spell was, it diverted the liquid before it could touch his teacher, arcing over the top of them both to splash to the ground behind Harry, where it promptly began eating away at the rough stone floor. The spell left Harry feeling a little drained and he swayed on the spot before regaining his balance. Snape's arm wove around his waist, and his teacher dragged him away from the noxious looking puddle as well as the statue that was now decidedly looking worse for wear.

"Sorry sir," Harry mumbled, still reeling in the aftermath. He tried to straighten away from Snape, not wanting to inconvenience the man any more than he already was, but ended up leaning more heavily on him instead.

"Stay still Potter," Snape said sharply and Harry complied unhappily, co-operating as best he could when Snape manoeuvred him over to the wall well clear of the ever deepening hole and sat him down carefully. He endured the subsequent poking and prodding wordlessly, but looked up with relief when Fawkes swept into the Chamber, singing softly. The Potions Master moved aside and Fawkes landed in Harry's lap, cooing and angling his head to be petted. The song had helped restore his sense of balance and he spent a few minutes stroking warm feathers, comforted by the mere presence of the Headmaster's familiar.

When Fawkes finally tucked his head into Harry's neck and apparently went to sleep, Harry looked up in time to see his teachers feet disappear into the gaping maw of the statue. Harry tensed, and then forced himself to relax. Snape was an adult, and as such he was able to take care of himself. More than that, he was a Head of House, which meant that his skills as a mage were formidable.

Harry couldn't quite convince himself not to worry about his guardian while Fawkes slumbered comfortably against him.

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