Note: This chapter is the end of year two. I hope you enjoy what I've done with the mystery of the Chamber. I didn't want to do another basilisk. I mean, they're impressive, massive, lethal things. And one is killed by a 12 year old? I don't think so. I'll be saving the King of Serpents for later. I hope you like what I've done instead.

CHAPTER FIVE: HIDDEN MYSTERIES, cont'd

"Are you serious, Ms. Granger?" The Scottish witch was sitting behind her desk, having heard the explanation that the three of them had come up with. She had a brow raised and doubt was evident.

Harry didn't blame her. On the way over Hermione had explained to them exactly who Myrtle was. He didn't blame McGonagall one bit for doubting them. The idea that the key to finding the missing students was a ghost that haunted the girl's room on the second floor was somewhat difficult to believe.

However, it wasn't like there were other solutions presenting themselves.

"I am, Profess-Headmistress." Hermione said. She gestured to the clippings and old book on the desk in front of her. "Although nothing is actually said about the Chamber or the Heir, the only thing that is clear that in 1954 Myrtle Mallory was found dead in the second floor girl's bathroom after having disappeared two weeks earlier."

"I see." McGonagall leaned back and tapped her chin. The gesture reminded Harry of Dumbledore so forcefully he almost looked around to see if the old wizard was there. "It would be irresponsible to not investigate. Come with me, please." Somewhat surprised, and not entirely pleased at being included, Harry followed with Neville and Hermione close behind.

Which was how they found themselves in an unused bathroom in the middle of the day, trying to find a ghost famous for not wanting to be seen. He couldn't help the shiver that went down his spine as they entered. It was the girl's bathroom! It was nothing like he expected a girl's bathroom to look. He wasn't entirely sure what one was supposed to look like, but it wasn't this.

This was a dank, dark, dirty washroom with leaky faucets and grimy mirrors. The stall doors had mold growing on them, and the single source of light; a small window almost on the ceiling, was smoky. The entire room was filled with motes of dust that drifted through the air.

Hermione sneezed. "Sorry," she whispered when Harry glared at her. He'd jumped a good three inches at the sound. He really didn't want to be here yet, at the same time he couldn't imagine himself anywhere else.

"Myrtle?" Professor McGonagall's soft, accented voice sounded flat in the air. "Can we talk to you?"

"What do you want?" the voice had a thicker brogue than any Harry had heard before, and came from nowhere. This then was Myrtle. He looked around for any sign of her. Then he

wanted to smack himself for being an idiot. She was ghost. Ghosts didn't show up unless they chose to.

Hermione answered. "We-that is, we wanted to ask you..."

"Ask me what? Out with it!"

"How...how you died." she finished timidly.

There was a sound not unlike paper tearing and a girl appeared hovering over the third stall from the wall. She was slim and had a handsome face. Thick glasses perched on her nose, under which bandages wrapped around her eyes. Most remarkably of all, Harry could see the window behind her, and the light shone through her. On her face was an expression of satisfaction mixed with sadness.

"It's happened again," Myrtle said. "you needn't explain, I know exactly why you're here; the Chamber has been opened, and girls are going missing. I've been waiting for this day for fifty years." she sighed deeply, an odd expression on a ghost. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything." McGonagall answered, and the ghost launched into her tale.

After she was finished there was a long silence. Then Neville and McGonagall swore in stereo, Harry a second behind. Hermione opened her mouth and closed it again. She frowned, then swore more colorfully than the other three had before her.

"Eloquent." Myrtle said drily. "Also, accurate."

Harry didn't know what to feel. It was too much all at once and he couldn't process it quickly enough. It was like getting hit by a dodgeball from behind. He knew something. He finally knew something, but the solving of another mystery yet again to only confusion and fear.

Myrtle's story had not been pleasant. She'd been on her way to class, nothing going on, when everything went black and she woke up alone in a chamber. That part was familiar enough for Harry to feel an uncomfortable sensation in his chest. Then from there the story only grew worse.

She hadn't known how long she'd been down there. There were no windows or clocks, and the only source of light were torches. She'd been down there so long, she said, that it was a toss up between what killed her: whoever had taken her or starvation. Then she'd been stunned from behind.

When Myrtle had come to again she was on a table. This room had been circular, with five recesses set in the wall. In all but one there was a body as still as stone. Their arms were folded over their chests and their eyes closed. They were the girls that had disappeared before her.

Then he had come.

Handsome, charming. Smart as a whip. Prefect of his house and rumored shoo-in for Head Boy. Tom Riddle entered the room with his hands covered in blood and a terrifying look on his face. Then, stroking her cheeks as if she were his lover, he'd told her everything: what he was doing, why.

How.

The weapon of Slytherin was not a snake. The Founder had felt it would be too obvious. Tom had agreed. Instead five homunculi had been created out of wood and stone and given a task: the purification of Hogwarts. Blood was the key, Tom had explained. He had needed the blood of five pureblood witches to key the homunculi.

Then things went wrong for Tom. Myrtle escaped her bonds and made a bid for freedom. During its course, a piercing curse cut her femoral artery and she'd had her eyes burned out by acid. She'd injured Tom badly enough that he'd been unable to finish the ritual. At the cost of her life, she'd saved the school.

And now, fifty years later, it was happening again.

"So how do we stop it?" Hermione asked.

"You don't." McGonagall answered.

"But-"

"No." the Scottish witch's tone brooked no argument. "There is no way on Earth or Heaven I'm allowing three underage students to be involved in this in any way. This is a matter for the professionals. I'm sure, Mr. Potter, that you are aware of the Bureau of Paranormal Research and Defense?"

Harry started. "Weren't they the ones who were going to come get rid of the wraith before, well...I did?"

"Yes. This time, however, they will be here before everything goes wrong. I'll make sure of it. If I have to drag them here by their ears they will be here on time." McGonagall's voice and face made him very afraid for the people who wouldn't give her what she wanted. "I will not allow any more students to come to harm." she vowed.

Neville, over the course of the conversation, had drawn closer to Myrtle. "Myrtle?" the ghost looked down at him. "What are you going to do now? I mean, are you going to stay?"

She smiled sadly at him. "No. After I died I made the choice to come back so I could warn the school the next time the Chamber opened. I have fulfilled my purpose. I can rest now." she said the last part quietly, almost wistfully.

"Oh." Neville said, looking sad. Then, with solemn conviction. "Thank you, Myrtle Mallory. Rest in peace."

"Thank you, Neville." Myrtle smiled and began to fade. "Good luck. To all of you."

Her last words hung on the air long after she herself was gone.

Whoever was trying to perform the ritual now had four girls. They only needed one more. The only upside Harry could see was that Hermione was safe for the time being. He sighed and trooped back to the common room, ignoring the hissed speculation of his friends.

If what Myrtle had said was true, and the homunculi did activate, he didn't know that he could stop them. What he did know and promised to himself that the only way anyone else was getting hurt was over his body.

He didn't sleep that night. Nor did Hermione and Neville.

How could they sleep when they knew the destruction of the school could begin at any second?

The waiting was killing him. Everything had been rushing towards an answer. Towards an ending. And now that the mystery had been answered and the problem solved he was expecting...

Well, he was expecting something to happen.

And it wasn't.

As the days passed and the Christmas break drew nearer, Harry was starting to think that waiting might be worse than having it all happen at once. It'd be done with and over then. This waiting was driving him up the wall. He felt like he was going mad; he couldn't focus, his grades slipped. He lost weight. People noticed, but anyone but Hermione and Neville received nothing more than an "I'm fine." and no matter how much they pressed that's all they'd get.

Until the last day of November. Harry was, though he'd never admit it, hiding. He was hiding from everyone in the history section of the library. It had become a kind of sanctuary for him, even more than Gryffindor tower. There was no way anyone would think to find him here.

"Hello, Harry Potter." an airy voice said.

Well, he amended, no one normal.

He opened his eyes and saw Luna standing over him. The airiness in her voice did not translate to her eyes. They looked as worried as he felt.

"Hi," he sat up and shook out his hands. They tingled as feeling returned. He'd been using them as a pillow. She sat across from him and folded her legs underneath her. "Are you okay?"

She half smiled at him. "I should be asking you that question. You look terrible."

He snorted. "Thanks."

"It's true." she said quietly, twisting her fingers together. "What's wrong?"

He didn't answer for a long time. "I'm not sure I want to tell you."

"What? Why not?"

"Because I'm honestly not sure if not knowing is worse than knowing." he confessed. She scooted across the aisle and re-settled next to him, then took his hand.

"How about," she said, cheeks slightly pink. "you let me decide?"

"Okay," he blew out a deep breath. "don't say I never warned you."

He told her everything. From Dumbledore to McGonagall to Myrtle and the incoming Bureau of Paranormal Research and Defense. As he talked he felt lighter, and remembered what Petunia had told him about talking these things through. One day he would remember that his parents were smarter than they looked. Probably.

"So," she said after he was done. "homunculi."

"Yeah."

"And they need the blood of five pureblood witches to activate."

"Uh-huh."

"There's only one left."

"Yes."

"So what's the problem?"

Harry blinked. "You mean apart from nearly half the school being in danger of dying at any moment? Or that if these homunculuses wake up they'll kill everyone not pureblood in the school? Which is pretty much everyone. And I know it was stupid of Dumbledore to ask me to protect the school, but I can't help it. I want to. I feel like...I should, or something."

"Oh, Harry." she sighed. "You are a bit of an idiot, sometimes, you know that?"

He blinked again. "I am?"

"Only sometimes. Which is better than most; they're idiots all the time. What I mean is that you can't put all this on yourself. It's not fair to everyone else."

"How is it not fair? I'm trying to protect everyone else."

"How? By not eating or sleeping, and instead sitting in a musty old library and worrying yourself to death? It's not fair because there's all these people who want to help you and you're not letting them. You can't do this alone, and you aren't."

"I know," Harry looked at their joined hands, feeling his cheeks heat and yet not willing to remove his from hers. "I don't want anyone to get hurt."

"What about you? Don't you count?"

"I guess. I don't know. It just feels wrong."

"Well, it isn't." Luna said definitively. She disengaged their hands and stood. His hand felt colder for a minute. "Now, I'm hungry. I know you are, so don't bother lying to me. It would also be rude of you to let me walk to dinner alone."

"Well," Harry stood and smiled. "we can't have me being rude and a liar."

"That would be bad." Luna agreed. "So come on."

He went and laughed for what seemed like the first time in months.

The next morning Harry came down to the common room to find it packed with the entirety of Gryffindor. Professor McGonagall stood by the door with a scroll in hand and a somber look on her face. He looked around at everyone's faces. They looked how he'd been feeling before his talk with Luna. Hermione was clinging to Neville's arm with tears in her eyes. The bottom of his stomach fell out.

"Ah, Mr. Potter," McGonagall said. "There you are." she unrolled the scroll and touched it with her wand. She nodded to herself and rolled it back up. It vanished with a pop. "You should sit down."

"What's going on?" Harry allowed himself to be tugged into a seat. "What's happened."

"There's been another message from the Heir." McGonagall addressed the entire room, but she looked at him.

"What message?" a dark-skinned boy asked.

"It begins." McGonagall said gravely.

Harry's heart skipped a beat. For once he was faster in making the connection than Hermione. "Who's gone missing?"

"Luna Lovegood."

His hands started shaking. He felt his face heat and his eyes started hurting. The people around him gasped and moved away. He could see the air distorting around him. Neville's grip on him became painful. Strands of Hermione's hair tossed about. His power grew inside him until it he felt himself about to explode at the seams.

Harry closed his eyes and took a slow, deep breath. He forced all the anger, fear, and worry he was feeling into a ball. Then he forced that ball deep inside his chest. When he was done he felt...calm. Almost cold. "Professor," he said, far too calmly. "is the Bureau here yet?"

"Yes," she said, blinking. "they...arrived this morning. I showed them the bathroom and they said they'd be done by nightfall."

"Well," he felt tremors in his voice and forced it to smooth. Calm. He needed to be calm. "they're too late. Again." he shook Neville off and stood. "I'm going. Please don't try to stop me."

"I can't allow you to go, Mr. Potter."

He glared, eyes burning. "She's my friend. Professor."

She stared right back, unflinching, for a long minute. The rest of Gryffindor seemed fixated on the battle of wills taking place in front of them; McGonagall's iron will against Harry's burning eyes. Finally, she said, "You won't be going alone. I'm coming with you."

"Me-" Hermione started.

"Don't even think about it." Neville said. "We aren't going."

"But-"

"No."

"I want to help." she protested. Harry turned to her. His eyes still burned, but they softened a little when they rested on her.

"Then stay here." he said quietly. "Please."

She frowned, conflicted, for a long minute before nodding. "Okay."

He smiled tightly at her, then turned to McGonagall. "Let's go."

They left, and the quiet the pair of them created lasted for all of six seconds before chaos erupted.

The agents of the Bureau of Paranormal Research and Defense looked, for all the mystery of the job, very ordinary. One of them even wore tweed. The others wore gray suits and carried burlap bags bulging with something Harry couldn't identify. The tweed guy seemed to be in charge, as he marched over.

"I'm Anthony Harris," he spoke with a slight North Irish accent. "we're just about to begin. Why are you here?"

They'd set up outside the second floor bathroom that, until recently, had been the home of the ghost of Myrtle Mallory. The idea of going back into that place, and the Chamber, sent shivers down Harry's spine. Then the ball in his chest shifted, and some of the emotion escaped. He remembered then.

He was worried before she'd vanished. Now, though, it was all he could think about. It was like his entire world had narrowed into a single train of thought. Find the Chamber, help Luna.

Then turn the Heir, whoever they were, inside out.

Harry was so angry it scared him. He was wrestling his emotions back under control and missed McGonagall's response to Mr. Harris' question. He did catch the man's reply.

"You must be joking. He's twelve!"

"He also killed the wraith you failed to last year." she snapped. "He's going with you. As am I. There will be no more discussion of this."

"We're wasting time," Harry said, speaking for the first time. "you can argue, but I'm going."

With that, he turned, dodged around the two gray suited agents, and entered the bathroom. McGonagall hurried after him, followed by Harris moments later.

This was weird. Very, very weird. Harry had entered the bathroom with every nerve tingling, only to find it looking the same. It was still dark and dank and dirty, and it still smelled like mildew. But there was something different. Something had changed. He could feel it. Tugging at the edge of his senses. It was pulling him towards something.

What could it be?

It was by the sinks. He went over and knelt in front of them, running his hands over the faucets, the drains, the ceramic bowl. Nothing out of the ordinary. Why did every instinct he had tell him otherwise? He looked again, ignoring the entrance of McGonagall and the rest behind him. "Focus." he whispered, and it was as if he were looking through a magnifying glass.

And there it was.

For all of Slytherin's vaunted disdain for snakes, he sure used them a lot. Etched into the bowl, just by the drain, was a curled snake, eating its own tail. Something weird surged in him at the sight. It wasn't like his power, this was something...scaly and dark.

"Open."

He jumped in shock as the entire sink started to move. The bowl drew back into the column. The spigot shrunk into the mirror, the grimy glass flowing like water around the dirty metal. The tiles on the floor drew back into a recess in the floor, leaving a gaping, dark chasm leading down.

"Mr. Potter..." McGonagall's voice had him turning. The four adults were staring at him, shock written all over their faces.

"What?"

Mr. Harris removed his round glasses and polished them on his vest. "It's been a long time since I met a snake-talker." he said. "last one was oh...fifty years ago, I suppose."

Harry looked from one adult to the other, confused. "Snake-talker? What?"

"You hissed." Mr. Harris said flatly. "You speak to snakes. There's another word for what it's called, but it's stupid and I don't like it. You're a snake-talker. Can we get this done? I have a dentist's appointment tomorrow?"

There was clearly more to being able to talk to snakes than it appeared to be on the surface. But it was also clear that there were bigger things going on. Things that were far more important to Harry than an ability he'd known he had for more than a year.

Luna, and four other girls were missing. They were going to be dead soon.

He took a deep breath and jumped into the hole.

And he thought Myrtle's bathroom was dirty. It, compared to this place, would have given Petunia a mild heart attack. The Chamber would kill her dead. She despised dirtiness, a quirk that, despite her best efforts, she'd failed to completely suppress. She'd had some success, though, seeing as he and Dudley were still alive.

This place was covered in filth. Centuries of bones, dirt, dust and God knew what else had created layers on the ground like layers of rock or sediment. His shoes squished as he stepped. He wasn't sure if he wanted to look down, or really see where he was going, but that choice was taken from him by Mr. Harris' muttered "Lumos."

What the light revealed was exactly what he'd feared. It looked like the Chamber also served as drainage for the lake. Fish skeletons lined the ground, and the odd half-decayed body scattered among the bones. It was a thoroughly unpleasant place, and the aura of decay punched through the armor of cold he'd built around his emotions. Fear, anger, worry, all of it smashed into him like a tidal wave. The force of it almost sent him to one knee, and he was suddenly sure beyond a shadow of a doubt that he wasn't supposed to be here.

"You alright lad?" one of the gray suits asked him. He took a deep breath and nodded, scrubbing under his eyes quickly.

"Yeah," he said, coughing past the lump in his throat. "yeah, I'm okay. Let's get this done."

The other gray suit chuckled. "Gryffindor indeed. You've got guts, lad, make no mistake. Best stay behind us for this bit."

Harry hung back with McGonagall, watching the three members of the Bureau move with cool efficiency through the muck. They didn't say a word, using hand signals or body language to communicate. The silence of the place was heavy, like the air. It pushed down on them, took their voices.

Streamers of light spun between his fingers. He clenched them into fists and they went out. They trembled. A warm hand landed on his shoulder and he looked up to see McGonagall try a reassuring smile on. It worked for her, and for him. He found himself calming.

They moved forward, advancing into the dark. Sconces dotted the walls. They were long without flame. How Harry got them in here gave him an idea. He thought about how that...something had felt, thought about the dry scaliness of it. Then he tried, "Lights."

McGonagall's startled look coupled with the torches springing into life told him he'd succeeded.

"Nox." Mr. Harris murmured, shooting Harry an appreciative look. The guttering flames, green of course, gave ample light to see by. He decided he didn't like using the snake-talk like this. It felt different to talking to snakes. Then it was just talking. This felt wrong. He wouldn't do it anymore.

They continued down the unending corridor. It didn't branch off, didn't curve. Just an endless straight line of lights and filth. Harry began to wonder if they were stuck in a loop. Like a recurring hallway. He was beginning to think they'd never find the missing girls when they came upon a door.

It was massive and circular, made of a metal that had long since grown over. Silver snakes, gleaming as if they were a day old, curled in a knot in the center of the door. Tracks went through the door's surface. The four of them came to a stop and waited for something to happen.

Harry began to fidget. They needed to keep moving. Lu-People were going to die! He was just opening his mouth to ask what they were waiting for when Mr. Harris gave him an impatient look.

"What are you waiting for, lad, an engraved invitation? Talk this door open!"

"Oh. Right." Harry turned bright red and forced himself to think dry and scaly. "Open."

The snakes set off, dragging with them silver locks set into the wall. After they were gone the door swung open without a sound. The Bureau agents entered, wands out. Harry stuck close to McGonagall, nerves on edge, and followed.

This had to be the Chamber proper. Its size alone would allow it to be nothing but. The ceiling reached so high he couldn't see it. Columns as thick around as trees rose into the shadowed rafters. A sunken circle, five foot in diameter, sat in the center. Hanging free of support in the center was a ball of flame that cast dancing light to the far corners of the room.

"God in Heaven." McGonagall breathed, and Harry could only nod dumbly.

The homunculi were massive. Fifteen feet tall if they were five, and human in shape. Their heads were crested helms, and their bodies resembled Roman armor he'd seen once in a museum. A luminous green glow pulsed in the center of their chests. The five of them stood stone still.

Harry's first coherent thought was, how are they going to get out of here?. His second was, where are they?.

A muffled scream answered his question. At the same time, in a tortured howl of moving metal, the homunculi began to move.

After that, several things happened at once.

Harris shouted, "Get the girls, lad!" and started firing powerful curses at the homunculi. His two gray suits followed suit. McGonagall started whipping her wand through complex gestures. Harry could feel the magic moving through the muck, drawing it together. He didn't have time to wonder what she was up to.

The scream came again, weaker and wetter. Harry zeroed in on the sound and drew as much power as he could stomach to himself. He raced towards it, seeing the edges of his world blur around him. He was across the entirety of the Chamber before he realized the power he'd drawn was speeding his movements.

He crashed into the door at full tilt and felt ribs crunch together nastily. Groaning in pain, he unleashed some power through his palms and the door exploded inwards. He stumbled through into a scene straight from Hell.

Lucius Malfoy held the limp body of a black haired girl over a cistern. Runnels led out of the circular room, under the wall. In the alcoves around the room the bodies of three girls stood, arms folded, eyes shut. He felt an incredible amount of guilt at the relief that shot through him when he saw that Luna was not among them.

"Welcome, Harry," Lucius said, smiling madly. Harry fought the urge to vomit. Lucius released the girl and she floated to a fourth alcove. Her arms crossed stiffly and her eyes shuttered closed. A thin red line, a second smile, went from ear to ear across her throat. "You're just in time."

Harry's reply was an explosion of golden light that decimated the entire room. When the dust settled, and the light faded, he expected to see nothing but fallen rock and scattered bodies. What he saw instead was a crouching Lucius Malfoy, a destroyed chamber, and the tired, bruised body of Luna Lovegood in his arms.

He saw red. "Let her go!" he snarled, power swirling around him like a storm. The ball he'd suppressed had broken loose. Stones rattled and rose to whirl around him like clouds. The runes on his face burned. Behind him he could hear massive collisions and shouted spells.

Lucius watched him, awe etched on aristocratic features. "Look at you!" he breathed. "You're magnificent! Truly a worthy opponent of my Lord!"

Lucius Malfoy, Harry decided, was quite mad. Insane beyond comprehension. And he had Luna.

What was he supposed to do? He felt paralyzed. If he stopped Lucius, he'd hurt Luna, and his instincts rebelled against that.

Lucius tutted. "Indecisive all of a sudden? You shouldn't, Harry. The costs can be high. Allow me to demonstrate."

Harry watched in horror as, quick as a snake, Lucius drew the edge of his wicked knife across Luna's throat. Her blood spilled, and Harry lost control of himself. Magic, raw magic, roared through him and he directed its flood at the hateful features of Lucius fucking Malfoy.

Someone was screaming. One word, over and over. "DIE!"

It was him.

The magic presented itself as a hurricane. It tore Luna from Lucius' grasp and picked him up into the eye. Then it ripped him apart. Limb from limb, piece by piece. Lucius Malfoy died in inches, and laughed the entire time.

Harry didn't see any of it. He slid across the blood slicked floor on his knees to Luna's side and pressed his hands to her gushing throat. A small part of his mind was screaming incoherently. He suppressed it with no small amount of ruthlessness.

Save Luna. Save McGonagall. Freak out later.

It became his mantra. He could feel Luna's heart beating under his hands. Her blood stained his skin red. Her pulse was slowing.

She was dying.

"No!" he snarled. "No! You're not dying, he's not winning!" he pulled power into his hands, hissed at the pain it caused on his face, and shouted. "Heal!"

The drain on him was tremendous. Tired as he was from the hurricane, this draw almost knocked him out. His vision grayed and he struggled to breathe. The cut on Luna's throat started healing and he wanted so desperately to stop the flow of magic. He couldn't, though. Not until she was safe.

It felt like years passed. Slow as an iceberg, she healed, leaving a thin, faded scar on the smooth skin of her throat.

"Come on," he begged, passing bloodied hands through her hair. "Wake up. Come on, Luna, wake up for me. Please!"

Luna coughed, and it was most beautiful sound he'd ever heard. Her eyes fluttered open, bleary, and focused slowly on him.

"H-Harry?" her voice was hoarse, almost smoky. "Wh-what..."

"It's okay." he said, voice shaking. "You're okay. It's over."

A scream of pain came from the main room and reminded him that it wasn't over. He didn't want to leave her. Lucius might come back. He looked around for the man he hated more than anything in that moment and saw only pieces. Good, he thought savagely. Good.

"Harry..." Luna's voice, stronger now. More clear. He looked down to see her intent eyes. "Go. I'll be...here. Safe."

He didn't want to. God, he didn't want to. But they needed his help out there. He rose to his feet, groaning as dozens upon dozens of aches made themselves known. Harry took a deep breath, and walked back out into the Chamber proper.

He stopped for a moment. That was what McGonagall had been doing. Five massive constructs of mud and bone were battling the homunculi. The titans of magic exchanged massive blows that shook the stone walls. Neither did major damage, but the homunculi weren't leaving. The blasting curses of Harris and his men slid off them like water from a duck.

"Potter!" McGonagall shouted. "Get out of here! Go!"

She looked pale. Her wand hand was shaking. She looked terrible, though Harry was sure he looked far worse. He damn sure felt it.

He looked to the entrance, so close and tempting. He could run, and hide. But in the end it wouldn't matter. In the end the homunculi would break loose. When that happened...

It wouldn't. It couldn't.

Harry wouldn't let it.

"Keep going!" he shouted back. He started running towards the battling monsters, drawing power as he did. Harris ducked between one's legs and fired a curse at the pulsing glow in the center of its chest. The thing reeled and stomped down on the diminutive man. The hasty shield crumbled but held under the massive weight.

That one was the first to feel Harry's wrath. He emptied his power into a massive fist of golden energy that knocked the homunculi onto its back with an earth shaking boom. Harris was out for the count. The two gray suits dragged him away, flinging curses at the others as they did.

Harry scrambled onto the fallen thing as it struggled to stand. He danced up its body on the slick wood and rusted metal, reaching the pulsing center just as it was about to find its feet. He drew and focused, sharpening the energy into something long and powerful. Then he slammed it down into the chest.

Green light exploded out in a wave, knocking stones the size of Hagrid from the ceiling and blasting Harry across the Chamber, sending him towards the wall at high speed. He had time to shout "Prote-" before he slammed into the wall. He cratered it and fell to the ground.

Now he had broken his ribs. Most of them. He felt magic rushing to them, easing his pain enough to stand but not enough to shout. "The chest!" he rasped, seeing the two gray suits looking at him. "Hit the chest!"

McGonagall must have heard him, because the next thing he knew two of her earth colossi grabbed a homunculus before a third rammed its arm through the homunculi's chest. The resulting explosion destroyed the arms of the two holding it and severely damaged the third.

Two down, Harry thought. Three to go.

Those three had decided they had enough of messing about. Two of them sandwiched a gray suit between them and crushed him in their fists. He crumpled to the ground, limp and unconscious. Harry slashed his hand and a blade of golden fire cut a metal leg off at the knee. He watched tiredly as that one fell into the other two and sent them all to the ground with an apocalyptic rumble.

Harry limped over to McGonagall. She looked like she was barely staying upright, but she held the spell. Her remaining two colossi, losing their coherency around the edges, began pummeling the tangled homunculi.

"Harry," she groaned. "Get...out...here...find...Dumbledore."

"No." Harry's reply was tired but resolute. "I'm not leaving you."

"Idiot...boy." she glared tiredly at him. An almighty crash tore his attention away from her to see her conjurations collapse. The mud splashed over them from the knees down and almost knocked McGonagall over. She steadied herself against Harry and then sagged on a nearby ruined column.

The homunculi finally sorted themselves out and stood. Making their way towards Harry, who could barely stand, and the last gray suit, who didn't look much better.

"What's your name?" the gray suit asked.

"Harry."

"Michael."

"I would say it's a pleasure, but..."

"I know."

"You ready?"

Harry sighed deeply. "Yeah. Let's get this done."

It was rather considerate of Slytherin to make the Chamber floor so comfortable. Harry wondered if he'd done that on purpose or if it was all the mud. He squinted at it, very close to his nose, and wondered why only one of his eyes seemed to be working. What happened? He remembered a fight, a huge fight, and giant monsters made of metal.

And now he was here. How had he gotten here?

Wait, he hadn't left.

So why couldn't he stand up? And where were the monsters?

Harry tried to move and immediately wished he hadn't. Agony wasn't strong enough to describe the pain he felt when he tried to get his tortured body to move. The best he could manage was rolling onto his back. After a minute the stuff on his eye that kept it from closing slid off and he blinked it open.

Huh.

Didn't the Chamber have a ceiling? He distinctly remembered a ceiling. He was pretty sure it hadn't involved stars, too

"Harry!" someone shouted, but he was more focused on figuring out how the night sky had ended up underground. "Haaaarrryyy!"

Maybe he should answer them. He breathed in enough to shout, felt lances of pain around his ribs, and let it out in a whoosh. He was stuck, could barely breathe, and the stars were underground. This was not good.

The immediate problem was making sure whoever was looking for him found him. He couldn't shout, and moving was right out. What about magic? He could do magic. So he frowned, trying to focus through the fog bank inhabiting his mind. He felt the draw, magic moving sluggishly through him and where he wanted it. It took much more effort than it should have to whisper "Light."

"There!" the someone shouted. "There he is! Albus, Poppy, over here!"

A clatter of rocks from beyond his current vision. Someone hissed a curse. They were close enough now for him to know it was a woman. Then he felt hands running over his body, and more curses. The woman, whoever she was, sounded as displeased about his condition as he felt. Her face swam into view and she looked...very familiar. Harry was pretty sure he knew her. He just couldn't figure out from where.

"It's going to be okay, Harry," she said, and he was surprised to see tears in her eyes. "You're going to be fine. Rest now, son."

It seemed like a good enough idea, he supposed. So he followed her advice, closed his eyes. The last thing he remembered was her worried, "you'll be okay." following him into unconsciousness.

Harry woke up with a much clearer head. He could remember now. Michael and he had decided that they did not stand a chance against three-well, two- homunculi. Their plan, then, was to collapse the ceiling on them. It had worked once, so why not?, had been Harry's thinking. So he'd pulled enough power to set his brain on fire and used it to pull the ceiling down on top of them, then used the rest to shield him, Michael, and McGonagall.

Talking of which, where were they? He looked around, much as he was able. He was in the hospital. No surprise. There were three beds with privacy curtains further in. Petunia was asleep on a sofa next to his bed. To his further surprise, her head was pillowed on Vernon's thigh. He too was asleep. His mustache fluttered as he snored. Petunia stirred, some instinct telling her that Harry was now awake.

She saw him. Her eyes shone, and she very carefully pulled him into her arms and broke into tears. His own eyes filled and spilled over. It was over. He was safe, Luna was safe, the homunculi were destroyed.

And he'd killed a man.

Again.

He cried just as hard as Petunia, barely feeling a second pair of arms come around him. He clutched his mother all the tighter and cried until he fell back asleep.

Harry wasn't allowed to leave the hospital for a week. During that time it seemed he received every single student, teacher, or house elf as a visitor at some point or another. As a rather pale McGonagall had put it, what had gone on in the Chamber was a complete secret. So naturally, everyone and their mother knew.

Hermione was absolutely disgusted at the amount of sweets he received. Even more so at how much he ate.

He hadn't seen much of his parents since he woke up that first time. They'd been busy doing..something. He wasn't sure what, though he imagined they were having another row with Dumbledore or McGonagall or whoever was in charge now. He didn't mind. He kind of liked how much they were willing to fight for him.

Still, he thought as he limped his way to breakfast, at least I still have all my limbs. No new scars, no missing digits. He'd gotten off easy this time. Next time, he wasn't sure he'd be so lucky.

As much as he didn't want there to be a next time, he was sure there was going to be. As he entered the Great Hall he noticed two things. First, everyone stopped talking. Second, where the school banners would normally be hung black shrouds.

And that was another thing.

Four girls had died. A fifth almost had. She was coming up to him now, the only person out of hundreds to move. She stopped in front of him, and his heart wrenched at the sight of the scar on her throat. Then she smiled, hugged him, and stepped back.

Then she started clapping.

The sound moved like oncoming rain, starting at her and moving its way to the back of the Great Hall. Through blurry eyes he saw Dumbledore applauding softly from his place at the head of the table, a proud smile on his face and a twinkle in his eyes.

They were clapping. For him. They knew what had happened down there. They knew he'd killed man, the father of a boy in this very room. And they were applauding him. Then he realized that wasn't why. He'd saved them. Again. Once more he'd, by circumstance or purpose, found himself facing a threat to the school head on and winning.

He let his tears fall and Luna lead him to his seat. He felt Hermione and Neville hug him. At the head table Dumbledore stood, and the applause stopped. Harry wiped his eyes and waited. Before long the old wizard spoke, and his voice was clear and strong.

"Today is a day of both sadness and joy. Today we mourn the loss of four brilliant, beautiful young witches. We mourn their deaths, and those of Anthony Harris, Michael Swift, and Eric Jones. These men gave their lives for us, and we honor their sacrifice." he raised his goblet and the Hall followed suit. "Remember them."

They all drank.

"And now," he continued. "we turn to joy. For as much as we mourn their deaths, their lives are what should touch us more. These spectacular people changed our lives just by being in them. When we remember them, remember their smile, or their laughter. Remember the happiness they brought you, and you will serve their memory well.

"Harry Potter, please stand."

Bewildered, Harry stood.

"You have shown time and again bravery beyond and above anything I have ever seen. For someone you barely knew you leaped headlong into danger without knowing you'd return. For that, and for everything else, I salute you. For your courage, your heart, your willingness to protect, I salute you." he raised his goblet again.

"To Harry."

END CHAPTER FIVE

Note: I know it's a weird place to end a chapter, but it just wasn't stopping. Like I said above, I hope I did justice to Slytherin's secret weapon and all that. I know some of you were hoping for more Harry/Luna interaction, and they got it. Maybe not as much as they wanted, but they got it. This is also the longest chapter I've ever written. So...yeah.

Anyway, next is year three.