Pain. Bright, white, hot, gold pain. Harry opened his eyes. He was lying in a pool of his own blood, mere metres away from a dead Basilisk. Harry moaned, he tried to sit up, but couldn't move, his body was refusing to obey him. Harry narrowed his eyes slightly, trying to look down at himself. A fresh wave of pain overtook him at this simple task, but he saw what he needed to. He bit back a scream. His clothes were tattered, deep, jagged lines of ripped flesh was clearly visible beneath, the white of bone glinted in the half light, and his arm, the basilisk fank had left a gaping hole and from it, spread black spiderweb veins. His head collapsed back against the stone floor as he thought to himself,

"Why am I alive...?" He focused on his other arm, "Move." he commanded it, he stared at said limb for a long time, when finally, it twitched. He gritted his teeth and slowly, slowly propped himself up. His neck ached and his lungs seemed to rattle inside his chest, deciding he coud sit up on his own, he raised his good arm to his chest. Closing his eyes, he placed his hand on is heart and listened. Silence. Ignoring his panic, he placed two fingers against his neck. Nothing. His tongue felt evy and dry in his mouth as he tried to understand what was hapenning. Was he a vampire? he knew little to nothing about the actual species beyond the muggle fiction, but he was pretty sure a bite was required. Was he a zombie? He thought about human brains, nope, that wasn't doing anything for him. That's when he felt it. The steady da-dum da-dum, like a heartbeat, but not, a pulse, against his leg. Sliding his hand into his trouser pocket, he fumbled. There was something there, something warm and pulsating. Clutching the object, he pulled it out, and blinked. In his hand, was a stone. A bright, glittering red stone that he recognised isntantly. It was the stone he'd found in the third floor corridoor. "What are you doing here?" he mumbled, gazing at it. Suddenly, he heard voices,

"Tragic affair, really, but there's a silver lining to every cloud..." said a man, Harry didn't recognise,

"Now, now Cornelius, you remember our deal, get your men to deal with the basilisk and the boy how they please, but I want fifty percent of the profit from the parts." This was a voice Harry recognised, Albus Dumbledore, biting back a snear, he slowly slid further away from the entrance,

"What about Potter?" the first man, who's name was apparently 'Cornelius' asked,

"The boy knows his place." said Dumbledore, sharply, "He knows that all deeds done are done for the greater good, he doesn't even know the value of the items."

"All the same," Cornelius said, "Imagine if he were to find out, not so much about the snake, but his brother, parseltongue or not, he would not be happy to know how we dealt with the body."

"Are you backing out of our arrangement Cornelius?" said Dumbledore, a sharp tint entering his voice, "Parts of Parseltongue sell for a pretty penny in some parts of the world, but if you want to go ba-"

"I said no such thing!" The man squeeked, "I was merely asking how to deal with the boy."

"No dealing is necessary, Potter will never know, I will make sure of it, I used to be a transfiguration teacher, Minister." Harry's mind tried to sort through everything he was hearing, but all he could tell was that he had to get away, fast. His eyes flickered to the basilisk and an idea entered his mind, sliding out his wand he waved it, muttering as he did so. The giant serpant slowly shrunk, smaller and smaller, till it was no bigger then a bracelet, picking it up Harry glanced around, searching for an exit, suddenly, he remembered something, whirling to face the statue of Slytherin he muttered,

"Open." A hiss echoed through the chamber and slowly, achingly slowly, a door sid open. Cobwebs hung from the previously invisable door frame, and Harry stared, mouth ajar, shocked that it had actually worked,

"What was that?" came Cornelius' voice, Harry blinked, then, panic fueling his sudden spead, he pushed himself, staggering to his feet, he broke into a run, he was almost there, when he collapsed, lying on his stomach, he whimpered, before slowly, determinatly, he pushed himself through the door. It silently slid shut behind him, leaving him in total darkness.

Harry sat, silently, for what felt like forever, listening to cries of outrage from through the thin door that separated himself from his potential excecutors. His wand clutched firmly in his hand, he whispered,

"Lumos" a flickering white light shone from the end of his wand, illuminating what seemed to be, "The library?" he asked, staggering forwards. Sure enough, he was in the school library. There! in the corner, Hermione sat, surrounded by books. When had they brewed the mandrake potion? How long had he been unconscious?

"Hermione!" he called, staggering forwards. The girl didn't glance up from her books. He walked closer, tapping her on the shoulder. His hand passed right through her. He blinked, leaning over, he touched the table top. It was solid. He picked up a book, also solid. Glancing down at the table, he realised the book in his hand was still on the table, he was holding a perfect duplicate. "What the...?" he muttered he pointed his wand around him, lighting the walls, until he came upon a plaque.

Here stands the library II

Read book after book as you please,

But you cannot disturb those above.

Read and read alone

This is for books, not socialising.

Harry blinked, so he was in the library, but he couldn't be seen by anyone else? Looking down at the state of himself, Harry decided that this was probably a good thing. He held the stone tightly in his palm,

"Time to find out what you are." He said to it, it seemed to shimmer even brighter then before.

Harry wasn't sure how long he spent in the school library. Long enough that the holidays started, he believed, for poeple stopped coming in after a while. He went for long periods of time, reading, searching, healing himself. There was an ache in his stomach, he hadn't eaten for he didn't know how long, but the philosophers stone, as he learned it was called, kept him going. He wasn't exactly content, but he didn't feel safe going out into Hogwarts whilst Dumbledore still prowled the halls. He had seen, through the library window, those who gathered for his funeral, had seen his 'body' lowered into the ground and knew exactly who was responsible for his 'death'. So he hid, reduced to a tattered skeletal figure, prowling the library, invisible.

He was reading a book on transfiguration when the phoenix arrived. It was blue, which surprised him because the only phoenix he'd ever seen had been Dumbledore's, which was red, the bird had a scroll attatched to it's leg, and Harry unravelled it with a trembling hand. It was adressed to 'The Young Upstart Who Stole My Stone' and when harry opened the letter, a rock fell into his hand. With a sudden tug to his navel, Harry was gone. The parchment fluttered to the ground and across it, in neat, sloping handwriting, was written two words.

Got you

TBC

MWA HAHA NOBODY GUESSED. So, please read and review, I hope you guys liked Harry's survival, because I sure did... :D