The Thirteen Sorcerers

by J McAllister

As Albus Dumbledore saw Harry Potter through his school years, he couldn't help but see the striking similarities between him and an old student of his—Emily Riddle, although she was known by a very different name now. There are no prophecies binding Emily and Harry in this universe, yet they grow closer than ever. How will they fare amid a new darkness rising?

8. Chapter 8: The Secret of the Riddle

Chapter 8: The Secret of the Riddle

The floor of the passage was very slippery which made the walk difficult, to say the least, but still Harry managed to stay on his feet. It also didn't help that the place smelt like some overgrown moss growing near some pond abandoned for a century at least, except that this was a closed room which made the effect ten times worse. He had never been claustrophobic but he wouldn't be surprised if after this day he turned out to be one. However, the real challenge came when the floor started elevating.

However an idea struck him.

"Stairs," Harry hissed out in Parseltongue.

There was no effect.

It was with great difficulty that he continued walking on the slippery floor which was now elevating gradually, pressing his feet slowly and steadily as he walked on. He'd really need to look up some spell to improve the grip of his shoes or something. He didn't know for how long he had to walk on the rising floor, but it felt like an awfully long time to him, after which he found himself in the first floor merely. The passage from there split in two ways—one which went to the first floor, and the other which seemed to be going to the higher floors. Not in the mood of trudging his way on the elevated floor yet once again, he took the way which led to the first floor. He kept on walking when suddenly the floor started to descend. However, from what he could see, it went a lot steeper compared to the one he had come from—almost like a deep well! There was no way he would be able to trudge through this one, what with the slimy walls and floor!

"Open," hissed out Harry in Parseltongue.

This time however, it wasn't a single doorway which had appeared. The walls around the steep vertical descent separated, causing three door sized openings to appear below him. Harry carefully jumped so as to not to fall into the deep depression, and carefully came out of one of openings. He found himself in a bathroom on the first floor, but it didn't look like the one he'd been to before. In front of him, were the opening, which was actually a large round pillar with basins around it. The door sized openings were actually the pillar moving apart from its position.

"Close."

He watched as the openings narrowed and formed the closed pillar again.

"Who are you?" said a voice, causing Harry to freeze in his spot. "Don't you know this is a girl's bathroom?"

Harry turned to find a hovering figure of the ghost of a young girl, who looked about his age, glaring angrily around the bathroom. The ghost was wearing rather large round glasses.

"I know you're here, so stop hiding!" said the ghost angrily.

"Myrtle Warren?" asked Harry.

The irritated countenance was replaced by a curious one. "It has been some time since someone called me by my full name."

Harry took his invisibility cloak off. "Look, I've had no idea that I'd end up in a girls' bathroom, so I'm sorry!" as he folded his cloak back in his pocket.

"You're Harry Potter!" said the ghost, suddenly appearing excited, every trace of irritation disappearing from her face

"In the flesh," said Harry with a slight bow. "But I'd prefer if you could keep this chance encounter a secret, couldn't you Myrtle?"

"Well, since you are requesting," said the girl twirling her hair with her fingers and staring at him dreamily. Harry personally found the idea of a ghost being interested in him to be a bit disturbing, but he neither voiced his thoughts nor did he allow them to appear on his face.

"I. May. Think. About. It," said the ghost. He found the silvery colour of her cheeks deepening slightly, as she progressively started getting closer to him. Was she trying to—

"I wanted to ask you something Myrtle," said Harry, perhaps too quickly, trying to maintain his cool and not freak out at the idea of a ghost trying to flirt with him—in a girls' bathroom nonetheless!

"Oh yes, Harry, I'm all ears," she replied happily.

"Myrtle," began Harry, "how exactly did you die?"

Myrtle stopped her progress towards him and peered at him curiously. Suddenly, the dreamy expression returned and he could swear he saw her pupils dilating. "Ooooh, it was dreadful," said Myrtle staring dreamily at the ceiling. "It happened right in here. I died right in this very stall," she said pointing at the third stall from where they stood. "I was hiding here in this stall, crying, because Olive Hornby had been teasing me about my glasses," Myrtle scowled at the very idea of whoever this person Olive Hornby was. "Then I heard something heavy moving on the floor, just like now. I opened the door to the stall, and then…I died."

"Wait, you straight up died?" asked Harry incredulously, at the rather anticlimactic ending to her story. "What happened exactly?"

"Well," said Myrtle frowning thoughtfully, "I do remember seeing a pair of big yellow eyes over there—" she pointed at the spot where the basins were "—then my body sort of seized up—I floated—but then I came back. I was determined to haunt Olive Hornby for the rest of her life, you see," she suddenly cracked a satisfied grin. "Oh, was she ever so sorry that she laughed at my glasses."

But the clogs in Harry's mind were already turning rapidly. Eyes which caused instant death. A huge snake. It could only mean one thing.

A basilisk.

But then, a basilisk's gaze didn't petrify the victim. Not unless…Harry tried to recall the incidents. What if the victims had met the basilisk's gaze indirectly? What if Justin Finch-Fletchley had seen the eyes through Fat Friar? And Fat Friar was already dead…so he couldn't die again. There was water all around the floor when Mrs. Norris might've seen it. But, what about Fred and George? But, of course! They were carrying butterbeer bottles with them. What if they saw the reflection on the bottles?

The given scenario was very coincidental, but it was the only theory which fit the facts. When you have eliminated all which is impossible, then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.

"Harry? Where are you going?"

Harry paid no attention to Myrtle as he quickly donned his invisibility cloak over him, and started sprinting. He had to inform Dumbledore at once! He knew the castle like the back of his hand, and he knew exactly where Dumbledore's office and quarters were. Before he knew, he found himself in front of the stone gargoyle, which looked very similar to a falcon, that guarded the Headmaster's office.

"Lemon Drops! Sherbet Lemon! Acid Pops! Chocolate Frogs!" He frantically whispered at the gargoyle. "Blood pops! Er, Cockroach Clusters! Bertie Botts Eve—"

"Stop boy—stop!" said the gargoyle, in a rather gruff voice. "Albus Dumbledore's not here."

"Oh—" said Harry sheepishly. "Uh, where is he?"

"He's not in the castle," said the gargoyle. "The Minister of Magic and Lucius Malfoy, one of the members of the Hogwarts Board of Governors, have decided to remove Albus Dumbledore from his position of the Headmaster for failing to stop the attacks on students."

"What?!" Harry shrieked in alarm. "Dumbledore's been removed—but the school's doomed if he goes! No one can stop the attacks expect him!"

"Well, I don't really know what the threat is," said the gargoyle, "but as serious as the matter sounds, it was a stupid move on the Ministry's part."

"So what are we gonna do now?" asked Harry frantically.

"Well, Minerva McGonagall is the headmistress and she has a lot of paperwork to do," said the gargoyle. "But as far as you're concerned, it's for the better that you retire to your common room, Potter."

Harry blinked owlishly at the stone gargoyle. "You can see me?!"

The gargoyle made a noise which sounded very close to a snort. "Roaming the castles at night when invisible! Who else could it be other than James Potter's spawn—that disrespectful boy who used to teach the metal armours swear words!"

---

Harry had been outright furious when he had realised that removing Dumbledore wasn't the only stupidity the Ministry had performed. They had even taken Hagrid to Azkaban Prison! Harry had gone up to McGonagall, who was now the Headmistress, and told her how he'd been with Hagrid the time Justin Finch-Fletchley and Fat Friar had been attacked and that the gamekeeper possibly couldn't have done anything.

"The Ministry said that the previous time something like this had happened, Hagrid had been found guilty," said McGonagall. "Dumbledore himself had said that the incidents had similar magic involved and so Hagrid got the blame yet again."

"But I've talked with Hagrid," said Harry fiercely. "It wasn't him or one of his creatures! Orion Black framed him because Hagrid appealed to him as a good scape goat to whatever had happened."

McGonagall sighed wearily. "Mr. Potter, you do realise that Hagrid is in reality a half-giant, yes?"

"And why does that change anything?" asked Harry, barely managing to keep the irritation out of his voice.

"It changes a lot for the Ministry," said McGonagall sardonically. "They view half-giants, goblins, half-goblins, werewolves—as something—something like animals! They consider them to be creatures inferior to them. I'll say what Minister Fudge said—'the Ministry's got to be seen to be doing something'—and what better a scapegoat, as you quite aptly put, than Hagrid?"

"But that's ridiculous!" exclaimed Harry.

"I share the same beliefs as you, Mr. Potter, and Professor Dumbledore's been trying to explain this to the Ministry for years", said McGonagall shaking her head sadly. "Have a biscuit Potter," she said holding out a tin jar with biscuits inside.

Harry took one, knowing it'd be rude not to. "But Professor—why remove Dumbledore—wait. let me guess, it was Lucius Malfoy's idea?"

McGonagall nodded slowly.

"Perfectly planned," said Harry bitterly, but it was after a while that he realised that he had said it out loud in front of McGonagall.

"What do you mean, Potter?" asked McGonagall curiously and also with a hint of suspicion in her eyes.

He cursed himself for not thinking before speaking. He was about to weave a tale when McGonagall said, "Potter it's important that you say what you know about this. I've—I've heard Dumbledore praise your logical and observational skills—and it's not easy to really impress Dumbledore."

Harry sighed. "Professor, in the beginning of this year, a house elf named Dobby approached me. He is the Malfoy house elf—and what he could only say to me without killing himself for betraying his master was that there were plots—'dreadful plots', to quote him, being made and it'd be dangerous in Hogwarts this year. From what I could gather Malfoy wanted a petty revenge on Arthur Weasley for conducting a raid in his Wiltshire Manor."

McGonagall's eyebrows had rose significantly, but then her expression turned to a one of defeat. "It's impossible to even touch Lucius Malfoy. He is indeed, a very true Slytherin."

"Professor—" Harry hesitated for a bit, but finally said, "do you know who was killed fifty years ago when the same thing happened?"

"The matter was very hushed up," said McGonagall. "From what I know, a student was killed, and another student was expelled. It is only yesterday that I found it was Hagrid who'd been expelled."

"The girl was killed in a bathroom," said Harry. "And she never left it. Myrtle Warren was the girl who was killed, professor."

"Myrtle?" asked McGonagall surprised. "Moaning Myrtle?"

"Yes, professor," said Harry nodding. "I talked with her, and from what I could gather the creature—it's a basilisk."

"By Merlin!" McGonagall nearly shrieked, her face was pale white. Never had he seen McGonagall lose her composure like this. "—a basilisk? A basilisk?!"

"I wanted to inform it to Professor Dumbledore immediately, but…it was yesterday night when I figured it out," continued Harry. "By the time I went there to inform him, the gargoyle informed me that he'd been suspended."

"A basilisk—but—but—Merlin's beard! The last time it was sighted was in 1354, and more than two hundred people died then!" McGonagall said panicking. "Potter, are you absolutely sure?"

"I'm afraid I am, professor," said Harry. And then he told her about his theory of victims getting petrified because of indirect contact with the basilisk's gaze. "It is travelling through some passageway within the very walls of Hogwarts. My bet is—there might be some secret openings—through which it meets victims now and then—but it can't get out."

Harry didn't say he had been able to access the passageway, because it would mean revealing that he was a parselmouth, and he didn't exactly want that. Moreover, what good would it do?

McGonagall looked split between being highly impressed by Harry's logical deduction and being terrified at the prospect of a basilisk roaming the halls of Hogwarts.

She suddenly stood up.

"The castle needs to be evacuated immediately!" she said, and started pacing in her office. "I will tell all the professors about your discoveries. I will prepare for the Hogwarts Express to be ready to take the students back tomorrow itself."

She stuck her wand to her throat. "Sonorous," she said. "All students are to return to their common rooms immediately, and they are to stay there for the rest of the day. Meals would be served in the common rooms only and classes will be suspended," her voice seemed to echo out through the walls. "Do not take this lightly. This is very crucial. Teachers please oversee that every student is back in their common room, after which I request you to meet me in my office."

McGonagall turned towards Harry, her face grim. "It's for the better you to return to your common room too, Harry. I'm afraid, if there's no miracle…this is the end of Hogwarts."

When Harry had returned to the common room, he was surprised to see that nearly all of the Gryffindors were already present there, and a few of them scampering up and down the staircase from time to time. He immediately found Ron, Hermione, Neville and Fay and went over to sit beside them.

"What d'ya think happened?" asked Ron nervously.

"I think they've found what's attacking the students," said Harry, not willing to tell them the whole tale.

Some of them had heard Harry and immediately the conversation in the common room died down.

"Was it one of Hagrid's creatures?" asked one of the boys.

"Stop being a moron!" snapped Harry, irritated. "Everyone knows Ministry is run by corruptible and incompetent pieces of douche, and Hagrid was just the likliest candidate."

Some of them looked at him with scandalous expressions. Percy being the most prominent among those.

Harry smiled sweetly at them. "Did you know McGonagall herself said that the Minister had sent Hagrid to Azkaban only because—these are his words—'the Ministry's got to be seen to be doing something'—so what else can you call them except moronic pieces of douche?"

"I believe you had added 'corruptible' and 'incompetent' too," said Angelina dryly. She looked at all of them. "Now listen here folks, my mum and dad both work in the Ministry, and from what I know, Harry isn't wrong. My dad says that Fudge's favourite hobby is to lick Lucius Malfoy's arse. I mean what good leader grants himself an 'Order of Merlin: First Class', just for being chosen as the Minister?"

Everyone had been quiet after what Angelina had said, as no one really had a response to that. Although Percy the Perfect was seemingly trying his best to come up with one.

It was about half an hour later when McGonagall had come inside through the portrait door, causing the whisperings to stop immediately. All eyes were on her.

With a sigh, she began, "the school will be closing down," said McGonagall gravely. "The Hogwarts Express would be in the station to take you back to London. Your families would be informed promptly. It is better that all of you start packing."

"But Professor what about those who have been petrified?" asked Regine Hooper, the sixth year prefect.

"They are in the process of being transferred to St. Mungo's," said McGonagall. "The Mandrake Draught made here would be administered to them in St. Mungo's itself."

With that, McGonagall exited the common room, and the room was filled with a cacophony of conversations. Harry watched as Ginny Weasley and her friends went up to their dormitory to start packing, and soon many others followed.

"C'mon mate," said Ron.

"Just a minute Ron," whispered Harry softly. "You go on and start packing."

Ron and Neville left, followed by Hermione and Fay. Fay had patted him on his shoulder reassuring him that everything would be okay.

As many other students started returning to their dormitories, he ran a hand through his hair. Just when he'd found himself a home, in a year and a half, it was being taken away from him. And he was helpless! Today he would be going back to the Dursleys and perhaps what awaited him was a pathetic life in the muggle world.

As he was about to get up, scanning his eyes around the common room, which very well might be his last time, his attention was caught by a black diary, beside him in the sofa by the fireplace. It was a muggle diary, so Harry wouldn't be surprised if it belonged to Hermione. He picked it up, but then he froze on getting the very first glance at it.

There was a small plaque at the bottom of the front cover of the diary.

EMILY MARY RIDDLE

How did it get here? Most importantly, how did it get here in the Gryffindor common room of all places? He opened the diary with slightly shaky hands but found that it was empty. It just had single ruled sheets and dates for each day.

Suddenly, there was a rustle of footsteps and in came Ginny Weasley. She froze when she found him there, but to be more specific, by what she found him skimming through. Harry had instinctively started going through Ginny's mind and found himself being shocked and then getting even more shocked the more he found out.

"Harry…uh…that's—that's my diary," she squeaked out.

"No. This belongs to Emily Riddle," said Harry calmly, getting up from the sofa. He slowly started walking up to her. There was something in his voice which made a chill go down Ginny's spine, and she couldn't help but notice how the twelve year old basically towered over her lithe form "Ginny, how did you get it?"

"Ha-Harry—"

He caught her hand. "Come with me. Now!"

"Harry—"

"Now."

"Ha-Har-Harry—I—" her voice was almost shaking and there was a touch of moistness in her eyes. Something within Harry shifted, and he left her mind, his eyes losing their coldness and doning a bit of warmth in them. He contorted a pleading look in his face.

"Please, it's more important than you can understand," Harry begged her. "I need to talk with Emily Riddle. She is the only one who can help!"

A quill and an ink bottle zoomed from the direction of the boy's dormitory and Harry caught it. "Please, Ginny." The girl hadn't even noticed that he had barely touched his wand to summon the ink and the bottle.

Ginny looked torn and it seemed as though she would start crying any second now. Harry's palm cupped her cheeks gently. "I won't judge you, Ginny. Everyone makes mistakes. I need your help." His voice was soothing and understanding. He knew he was exploiting the girl's feelings for him, but he did not care at this point.

Her face turned a shade of red which could rival her flaming red hair. Her pupils had almost dilated and if some third person saw Ginny now, they would say that she had been hypnotised. She relented.

Despite no one being in the common room, Harry didn't want to hold a conversation here, as someone might just arrive and it would take a lot of explaining. He pulled out his invisibility cloak, and found it in the form of a large blanket (instead of being in the form of a robe) enough to cover both Ginny and Harry.

"This is an Invisibility Cloak," said Harry, and with that he covered himself and Ginny before she could say anything. As he opened the portrait door, to the common room, the Fat Lady called out, "Who is it? I know you're invisible and you're not supposed to be going outside!"

"I'm Batman!" snapped Harry in a deep voice.

He led her towards the circular stairs which led to the first floor. They entered an empty classroom, and then taking another door through it, they found themselves in front of the circular staircase.

"Ha-Harry where are we going?" asked Ginny.

"Somewhere where no one would find us," said Harry and immediately regretted it, because of how wrong it sounded. "Yeah, it came off as a bit creepy…but I need to talk with Emily Riddle without someone disturbing me or asking me any questions."

Harry and Ginny came about halfway down to the stairs, when he finally pulled off his invisibility cloak and sat on one of the stairs.

"I need to have a conversation with Emily Riddle," said Harry.

"How-how do you know her?" asked Ginny softly.

"We have a lot in common", said Harry, as he opened the cap of his ink, and after dipping his quill he began writing.

Hello

I'm Harry Potter.

He watched as the ink disappeared, and a reply came out in a different handwriting just as he had seen would happen when Ginny would write in this diary.

Hello, Harry Potter.

I am Emily Riddle.

And then, it disappeared too. Harry continued writing.

Yeah, I figured that out by seeing your name on the cover of the diary.

Oh, I see.

I would really like to ask you about how this magic works, because no enchanting could be this intricate so as to capture a part of the essence of the person itself, however talented you might have been.

You seem to be quite knowledgeable about enchanting despite being a second year.

Thank you. But learning enchanting is not what I want from you today.

And what exactly do you want from me?

I need your help. And I believe you are among the few people who can help me.

There was a pause before the reply came:

What help do you need exactly? And why do you think I would be the one who could help you in whatever situation you have found yourself in?

Dumbledore has left Hogwarts. If there is only one person who could stop the basilisk and prevent the school from shutting down, it is you.

There was no reply for some time, but then the writings came up.

Ginny told you then?

Not quite. I figured it out by myself. But I know you won't really want Hogwarts to close down now, would you? Hogwarts was your first home. And it is mine now.

There wasn't a reply for some time. But then the writings appeared again.

Who told you about this?

This time the tone of the writing seemed more demanding. If the basilisk had not piqued her interest this definitely had.

I have met you. I know who you are.

Are you a sympathiser?

No, I am not. Moreover, I don't think you would have said that to one of your followers, would you? And, I don't care about who you have become. I am able to put my past, past me, so I don't lose my present too.

There was again a pause, and then the writings appeared again.

We need to talk face-to-face.

The diary started glowing, and the next moment standing before him was the ghostly figure of a young woman. This was the first time Harry was seeing how Emily Riddle had actually looked like. Her face had an aristocratic touch to it, not unlike Daphne, with high cheekbones and, despite being partly translucent, there was a brightness to her eyes which radiated power and it made her ghostly figure appear very beautiful. She was tall and her wavy red hair was tied in a messy bun. She could not have been older than twenty or so.

Emily Riddle simply raised an eyebrow at him.

"I thought you said that you'd met me," she said.

Harry blushed a bit, when he realised that he was staring at her. "Not exactly, no. You were possessing our Defence against the Dark Arts teacher Elizabeth Fawley, so haven't exactly seen you." He saw Ginny gape first at Emily Riddle and then whatever Harry had said.

"Wait—po-possessing?" squeaked out Ginny.

"It's a long story," said Harry, ignoring the appraising look Emily Riddle was giving him.

"Now, tell me, how exactly do you know so much about me?" the young woman asked, her voice almost forceful. "Best yet, somethings about me that I have shared with no one, well except perhaps one person, but I don't think he would give away my secrets."

"Perhaps the most obvious answer of all. Because you told me," said Harry.

"Oh, did I now?" said Riddle with a tone of scepticism and curiosity. "And why would I do that?"

"I believe you said something along the lines of 'We are more similar than you know'," said Harry, not letting it appear on his face or convey through whatever he spoke, that the woman did cut off as an intimidating figure. "But, can we please get to the point? I believe you are the only person who could help us in our given predicament, as I had said before."

"I can help you with very little at this moment," said Riddle. "If you didn't quite notice, but I am just a shade of my twenty-five year old self. Not more than a mere ghost."

"Then tell us how to defeat the basilisk!" insisted Harry.

"I wasn't able to do anything to it when I had made this diary itself," said Riddle coolly. "If Dumbledore's not here then no one can stop it. Dumbledore was kind of our last resort, but now that he's gone…" she shook her head sadly.

"How exactly are you related with this whole debacle?" asked Harry curiously. "In your fifth year, the basilisk is let loose, and Myrtle dies. This year, Lucius Malfoy gave this diary to Ginny and then the basilisk runs about this place petrifying people."

"Malfoy?" asked Riddle bemused. "You mean that rich, pureblood family?" she sneered at the very idea of them. "Why would I give one of my most prized possessions to one of those blonde twats?"

Harry let an amused smirk cross his face. "Maybe you do not know this but Malfoy is one of your most faithful followers. Most of your followers are rich, pureblood ponces…" Harry hummed thoughtfully. "Let me guess, some of your followers were Crabbe, Goyle, Avery, Macnair, Lestrange, Travers, Rowle, Nott—"

Riddle looked a bit sick.

"Harry, what are you—" Ginny began.

"Look here, Potter," said Riddle, in a rather bossy tone, "Ginny doesn't know a thing about my future except that I was evil, and tried to kill everyone and…what was it again? Ah, now I remember, the hero Boy-Who-Lived vanquished me when he was just one. I want to know about what I actually end up doing in the future. You seem to have bit of an idea at least."

"Wha—wh-who are you—Emily? And—"

"Ginny, Emily Riddle is none other than Lady Voldemort," said Harry bluntly.

"Wha—" Ginny was pale, her eyes wide, as she stared fearfully at the young woman.

"Surprise!" deadpanned Emily.

Ginny whimpered where she was sitting.

"Ginny calm down," said Harry. "I'm not one of her biggest fans but she holds answers to this whole basilisk in the school debacle." He cast another glance at Emily. "And she can't do much, as she said herself."

Riddle narrowed her eyes at him but instead of what appeared to be like she would curse him, she just said, "I will clear doubts if you would clear mine."

"Right—from what I know, you won the International Duelling Tournament seven times in a row," began Harry, "didn't get selected for Aurors because the Ministry people are a bunch of moronic pieces of douche," Harry thought her mood brightened up a lot when he insulted the Ministry, "then Dippet didn't take you up for the Defence post because you were too young…"

"—wait Dippet rejects me?" asked Riddle, with evident fury in her voice.

"Yeah he does," said Harry. "Let me get this cleared up—I don't know the exact timeline of your youth, so figure out what happened before and after the time when the real Emily Riddle put a shade of herself in this diary."

"Anyways, after Dippet rejected you, something happened between you and Dumbledore and the next anyone knows, you vanished," continued Harry, "and everyone thought you went back to the muggle world, but I think it is the least likely case," said Harry dryly. "From what little you told me, you travelled around the world—in Japan, Russia, America…and then you returned as Lady Voldemort who claims to be the champion of the pureblood rights."

"I believe 'claim' being the key word?" asked Riddle dryly.

"I really can't see why a halfblood muggle-raised would want to fight for pureblood rights, I mean, I can get that you hated muggles, but fighting for pureblood rights is some utter bullshit which you cooked up, that is—unless someone kicked your arse really hard in a duel, and you hit your head," commented Harry.

"I don't think that's the case," she said frowning a bit at Harry's choice of words, and rather callous way of explaining her history.

"Well, I guess your plan was to overthrow the Ministry, but you needed a bunch of followers," theorised Harry. "More accurately, you wanted blind followers. And, I guess you also wanted some sadistic pleasure by having the purebloods kiss your arse…figuratively of course," he hastily added seeing the disgusted look on Riddle's face, "and, the only thing you had to do was speak a few words in Parseltongue and you are hailed as their Master, and they give their undying fidelity to you."

"And then there was apparently a prophecy, which you came to know about and decided to come and kill me", said Harry. "I don't know much about that, except that it's self-fulfilling and may or may not hold."

"A prophecy?" asked Riddle in a curious tone. "It is quite unbelievable that I hold stock in divination in my future."

"As for how the killing curse backfired…it was a sacrificial protection which my mum gave me when she decided to give her life to protect me," Harry watched as Riddle winced a bit.

"That is a powerful protection," mumbled Riddle. "Quite stupid of me to have overlooked it."

"Quite," said Harry. "I gave you my information, now you give yours. I apologise, but I didn't have time for a long winded biography of what happened throughout your life. Not that I know it fully anyways."

Riddle sighed. "The story of the Chamber of Secrets is a long one," she said. "And I can't give a parodic version of it, like you did with mine." She gave him a half-hearted glare.

"The Chamber of Secrets?" asked Harry curiously.

"Well, according to the legends, Salazar Slytherin was against the idea of muggleborns being allowed to study in Hogwarts," began Riddle. "There was a huge confrontation among him and the other founders regarding this matter, and he decided to leave the school. But he created, what is called as the Chamber of Secrets, which is hidden inside the castle, and houses a beast. When a true heir of Slytherin would come, that person would be able to control the beast and rid the castle of muggleborns."

"The basilisk is the beast," said Harry.

Riddle nodded. "What I had learnt was that parseltongue was a character associated with Slytherin, and he assumed that every descendant of his would be capable of this magic. Anyways, when I first joined Slytherin, everyone thought I was a muggleborn, and…well, bullying was something I'd gotten used to," she snorted derisively. "But then, during one of those incidents, I revealed that I was a parselmouth. And as you had theorised just now, the treatment which I received turned 180 degrees, and everyone started snivelling at my feet and calling me the Queen of Slytherin." She shook her head sadly. "It was in my fifth year when I came across the fabled Chamber of Secrets. There I found a portrait of Salazar Slytherin which began dotting over me. Saying how he was glad that one of his descendants was finally back. I had come to the conclusion that the history books are biased to have made Slytherin out to be so bad." Harry could now feel the anger in her expression. "How wrong was I! As soon as he figured that I wasn't a pureblood, he started belittling me—saying I stole his magic—hoodwinked him and what not—and then I gave him what he deserved—I destroyed his portrait!"

She took a deep breath. "It was the portrait of Salazar Slytherin which somehow gave control over the basilisk to one parselmouth. The mad bloodthirsty beast was unleashed, but I had no idea what I'd done just then. Then, Myrtle Warren was killed, and I knew it was up to me to stop it. But the basilisk was not just an ordinary basilisk. One might even go so far as to say that it was one of Salazar Slytherin's greatest creation. No magic could penetrate its hide, and never had I imagined basilisks to be that big. It was seventy feet or something." Harry found himself getting pale at the prospect of even facing it. "While the basilisk couldn't escape out of its passage because of the narrow doorways, it could still kill with its gaze. But finally, I was able to trap the beast, but I wasn't able to do so properly, because…well, it was impossible to do anything to it, and it was very hostile, and I returned inches away from the basilisk having me as a fun snack."

"Then?" prodded Harry.

Riddle sighed. "When Ginny told my diary it was 1992, I thought I should finally try to seal the basilisk away properly, if my real counterpart hadn't done that already. I mean it'd been forty years or so. Well, it didn't go exactly as planned, and in my own defence, her body wasn't exactly something I was compatible with?"

"You possessed her?" asked Harry.

"You possessed me?" asked Ginny scandalised.

It was the first time Ginny had spoken in a long while.

Harry shook his head sadly. "Just when I thought of giving you the benefit of the doubt, you just had to do it."

"I'm flattered that you even consider giving me the 'benefit of the doubt'," said Riddle sarcastically, "but, it just so happens I least care about your opinions, Potter. Something needed to be done, and I'd rather not spend my lifetime determining the morality of my actions."

"All right—all right—I get it!" said Harry. "Now tell me, how exactly do we stop Hogwarts from closing down forever."

"Murder the Minister of Magic and all his band of arse-lickers, bring Dumbledore back to school—" Riddle began, but Harry interrupted her.

"Would Fiendfyre affect it?"

"What—Fiendfyre?" asked Riddle surprised. "Well…" a thoughtful frown appeared on her face, "I didn't really use Fiendfyre because it's…well, Fiendfyre. What exactly are you planning to do?" She asked him with narrowed eyes.

"How did you survive a basilisk's gaze?" Harry asked his own question.

"I—it's rather complicated to explain," replied Riddle.

"Then explain."

"Look here, Potter, I don't know how big of a head you've got, but it requires the ability of wandless magic," countered Riddle hotly. "I know of only a few people who are capable of it, and Dumbledore was one of them and—"

Riddle stopped her tirade as suddenly a flash of fire erupted (causing Ginny to squeak) and the next moment, a fiery phoenix of the size of an iguana, and an ice dragon were coiling around each other, and moving upwards towards the ceiling and then disappeared with a whoosh, causing snowflakes to start falling over them.

Riddle observed the display of magic with barely concealed awe.

"I can make them a lot bigger," said Harry. "And as you have seen, I did them wandlessly."

"Wandless magic," whispered Riddle. "You're capable of wandless magic?"

"Yes," said Harry simply. "Didn't think you were the only one with gifts, did you? Now, how exactly did you survive a basilisk's gaze?"

Riddle sighed. "Well, I'll better tell you, then."

---

"Oh…Back again, Harry?" asked Myrtle as she saw Harry pull off his invisibility cloak.

"Well, Myrtle…as stupid as it sounds…I'm going down to face the beast that killed you," he said. "Chances of me returning are pretty slim," he chuckled humourlessly.

"Oh? Are you avenging me, Harry?" the ghost asked dreamily. "Harry, if you die down there…I can share my toilet with you if you want."

"Er…right," said the boy, a bit taken back by the unusual and creepy offer. "I'll—I'll hold on to that."

"Open," hissed Harry at the huge pillar in the middle of the bathroom. The pillar shifted from their positions making a grinding noise, revealing three human sized doorways. 'Well, at least that old bastard had the sense to not to let that basilisk out fully in a whole school of children', Harry thought to himself.

"Well, goodbye Myrtle…" said Harry and slid down the huge abyss, thinking that just before facing potential death, he had spoken with a creepy ghost of all things instead of his friends who won't probably ever see him. But then again, if he had faced them, he didn't think he would've had the courage to come down here. But Hogwarts was his home. And what use would it be of living, if he couldn't even protect the first place that had given something to him? A new life, new friends, magic and lastly belonging. Well, at least Ginny was back in the common room with that diary of Emily Riddle. If he survived he would really like to ask that diary a few questions.

Harry felt the slope of the abyss grow gentle, and then found himself thrown into a pit of animal bones. He scrunched his nose up in disgust as the smell of dead, rotten animals overwhelmed him.

"Blood…" Harry heard a voice speak. "I smell…blood…"

He felt a chill run down his spine, as he heard the basilisk nearby.

"So close…so close… I can devour you…a human…"

With a snap of his fingers, seven balls of light appeared, lighting up the whole place, as muggle lights would do to a huge chamber. The place was slimy, disgusting, and strewn around the place were animal bones and carcasses. The dried blood had nearly strewn inside the rocky walls. This place was about as large as the Great Hall. Harry found a huge circular opening, with an open latch. He knew it was coming.

"It was something I came up with by myself…and well, it worked," Riddle had said, shrugging. "A basilisk's killing gaze is nothing but magic with its eye. Kind of like an Avada Kedavra through the eye, but of course, it isn't the same. The magic has to be very powerful to do what it does, and even a slight change to something except direct eye-contact could result into the victim not being killed, like the pertrifications. But of course, you don't want to be petrified when facing the basilisk too."

"Of course," Harry had said dryly, causing Riddle's lips to twitch up slightly.

"When you perform wandless magic with your eyes," Riddle continued, "You'd notice that our eyes glow slightly—it occurred when you did it too, just a few minutes ago—I believe, that traces of magic appears from our eyes in a similar way it does with our wand—if you will this magic to form a small shield—enough to push against the basilisk's eye assault—it is possible to deflect the killing gaze. But the fact remains, it is only one of the ways the basilisk can kill you. It is enormous, magic resistant, and it carries the most deadly poison known to wizardkind in its glands".

An enormous head of a snake appeared, but the first thing he felt was the enormous pressure as the big yellow eyes, holding power unimaginable, pushed against his eye's magic. He felt blood trickle down his eyes, but he held still. The head of the snake consisted of thick, black scales and its head alone seemed to hold the capability of easily devouring him in one bite like a small spoon of treacle tart.

No.

He didn't want to be the basilisk's dessert.

His wand was in his hand, and he launched a huge jet of flames at the snake. He had never thought the fiendfyre would erupt to this extent, as an enormous phoenix made of flames nearly swallowed the basilisk. He heard the creature cry out in pain and he willed the element to destroy the creature fully. For a moment, Harry thought he had succeeded when he saw the flames consume the beast, but then he found the creature lunge towards him, and almost on instinct he put up a shield. The creature had struck so violently, that Harry was forced on his knees because of the sheer pressure of the assault. The basilisk was not more than four feet away from him, held against the shield—only its teeth sinking through Harry's Protego. The basilisk continued ramming its head continuously on the shield and blood continued trickling down his eyes because of the deadly gaze of the creature.

Just as the creature was about to ram rather hard on his shield, Harry threw another jet of Fienfyre at it, and saw as the flames enveloped it yet once again, causing it to give out a cry of pain. He tried to scramble out of the basilisk's range, knowing that the most the fiendfyre seemed to be capable of doing to it, was to make it experience pain like some less severe Cruciatis curse did, however the pain itself was momentary. Suddenly, something rammed very hard into Harry's body, making him fly half a length of the cave-like place, and crash into one of the rocky walls. He started coughing blood out of his mouth and saw black spots in his vision. Did his ribs just break? It felt like the time Dudley had beaten him with his cricket bat, and he had been sure his ribs had broken then too. But this was hundred times more painful.

The basilisk hissed angrily, and he could see it lunging towards him, faster than he thought it would ever be possible for a creature as huge as it was.

This is the end.

Just as the thought crossed Harry's mind, a warm sensation took over him, and he saw flames surrounding him. Just as the warm sensation went away, he found something perched on his shoulder. For a fleeting moment, he thought it was Hedwig, but then he noticed it was a majestic bird, looking at him curiously with its golden eyes. Its feathers brilliant scarlet and gold which appeared to be like dancing, animated flames. It was Fawkes! Dumbledore's phoenix!

'Indeed, Mr. Potter,' said a very familiar voice inside his head. It was then that Harry noticed, a hat had been resting on his head too. It was no ordinary hat however.

'Ah, Mr. Potter, we meet again,' said the Sorting Hat. 'My, my, living a life of adventure, aren't we? Flying with dragons, discovering secrets of the castle and now a basilisk?'

'Wha—how did you—' began Harry. He found himself in a huge hall, about twice as large as the Great Hall. There were pillars around the hall, and there was a greenish hue coming from the stones with which the the whole chamber was made (including the pillars, the walls and even the floor), which made the whole place light up. Behind him stood a huge statue of a bearded, bald man, whose face resembled a monkey—it was Salazar Slytherin! This was the main chamber of the Chamber of Secrets.

'Phoenixes are capable of travelling through any wards…like muggle teleportation, by getting engulfed in flames,' explained the old Hat. 'But we haven't got time, Mr. Potter,' the Hat now spoke in an urgent voice. 'A founder's magic can only be matched by another founder's.'

He felt something heavy settle on his head. As he pulled off the battered hat, his eyes fell upon a jewel encrusted handle peeping out of the hat. As he pulled it out, he saw a blade emerging out of the Hat slowly, and then with a final pull, lying in his hand was a magnificent sword. Despite its great size, it was unimaginably light.

An angry hiss reached Harry's ear, and the next moment from one corner of the chamber, out came the enormous beast. It was now when he faced the basilisk standing on the other side of the chamber, did he see the basilisk in its full glory. It truly appeared to at least be a seventy feet long, as it reared its head threateningly. It sped towards him at an unimaginable speed, and what he could only do was stare at it transfixed. But then, the blood which had started trickling down his eyes on coming in contact with the basilisk's gaze, alerted him of his situation.

With the sword in his hand, as he faced the charging basilisk, Harry realised that this was his first real life-and-death duel. Even if the duel was against a beast. But the circumstances were same.

The basilisk outmatched him by a huge margin. And he remembered what advice he had gotten from the real Emily Riddle, although then he'd thought that she was Elizabeth Fawley.

The element of surprise.

"Can you flame me just on top of the basilisk's head?" Harry asked the bird hurriedly.

He felt a warm sensation pass over him again as flames engulfed him, and the next moment he found himself nearly topple because of the pseudo-force caused by the basilisk which had been charging towards the other side of the chamber. The phoenix had teleported him right on top of the basilisk's skull. On instinct, he struck the blade with all the strength in his body, but the next moment he felt himself slide down the creature's body and land on a heap on the floor. He groaned as he tried to get up from his position—his whole body was in pain and it felt even worse than the time when Dudley had pushed him from the roof of their primary school—however he was still clutching the sword, and for some reason it felt as if the sword was giving him strength to carry on.

An inhuman scream reached him, and his attention snapped towards the basilisk—finally something had penetrated the basilisk's hide! There was a long incision right on the snout of the basilisk and the creature had reared in pain because of the wound. He had hoped he had got the beast's brains, but he was proved unlucky.

The basilisk's angry gaze swept towards him.

"FLAME ME!" cried Harry as the angry basilisk lunged at him.

Flames engulfed him just in time, and the next moment he appeared on a high spot from where he overlooked upon the beast lunging at the floor, making a huge dent on it, as if a small meteorite had crashed on the ground.

He audibly gulped.

A few seconds here and there and it would had been the end of Harry Potter.

The basilisk picked on his smell, and the next moment, it was striding towards where he had just landed. Harry dashed away, with Fawkes taking a flight as a result of a recoil from Harry's sudden movement, and the next second, the basilisk had torn apart the place where he had been standing mere seconds ago. He realised he had been standing on a ledge right above the statue of Salazar Slytherin, and the basilisk had smashed his former master's statue into smithereens. He raced along the ledge, as the basilisk continued ramming along the ledge following the path in which he was running. The whole structure was in shambles within a quarter of a minute, and he felt himself lose balance and topple over to the ground.

"FAWKES!" cried Harry in panic and the next moment flames enveloped him, and he found himself on the other side of the room. What existed of Salazar Slytherin's face was now just his long flowing beard, and the rest had turned into rubble and debris strewn across the floor below it. 'Serves that bastard right for thinking it was a good idea to keep a basilisk among a school full of children.'

The basilisk was again charging to the other side of the room, intent upon making a bloody mess of Harry Potter, and slurp him down like marmalade.

"Fawkes, I want you to flame me right above his head, you understand?" muttered Harry to the bird. "I'll try managing it this time. Properly."

Harry positioned the sword in front of him, its blade facing the floor and clutching the handle with his two hands—ready to stab the creature which would appear beneath him in a moment's notice.

Flames engulfed him, and he plunged the sword deep with all his force, and when the warm sensation left him, he saw that the sword had been deeply stabbed into the snout of the beast, and then he fell over. He was about to fall when Fawkes caught him by his shoulders, and he watched amazed as the bird flew around, carrying his whole weight. The basilisk was convulsing greatly because of the sword still embedded in its mouth.

"TAKE ME TO IT!"

Fawkes flew around the basilisk again, and Harry reached to the sword-handle, his body held by Fawkes, and dragged the handle along the beast's snout to between its eyes, almost nearing it brain perhaps, with a strength he had never thought he would have.

But the beast suddenly gave a huge lurch, causing Fawkes' grip on Harry to slip, and he fell to the ground in a heap, the sword landing with a slight 'clang!' beside him. The basilisk wouldn't survive for long, but it was still alive. It lunged at him, and Harry swooped the sword into the basilisk's open mouth. The sword pierced into the rooftop of the basilisk's mouth, just as he felt something pierce into his shoulder. He dragged the sword from the rooftop to it snout, not caring about the fangs which were piercing across his torso. Blood of the convulsing creature drenched the wizard, and this time, he saw the magic leaving the angry yellow eyes of the basilisk.

Harry took in a sharp breath. Pain like he had never felt before ripped through his body, and his eyes fell on the basilisk fang still pierced into his shoulder. His eyes also travelled across the three spots in his torso where blood was seeping out from his body like boiling water out of a vessel. Thankfully (not that it would have made much of a difference) the fangs of the basilisk had not come off from having bitten into these spots. Maybe the other had pierced a lot deeper and had been weakened from having been wounded by the sword.

He pulled the fang out of his shoulder, which was about a foot long, and collapsed on the floor. Harry screamed his lungs out, convulsing, as the poison started spreading throughout his body. Tears rolled down his face, as he screamed. His screams echoed through the hall but there was no one to hear him. He wanted the pain to end, even if it meant dying. He couldn't take it. He saw the dark spots appear in his vision, and he fell face first on the floor, not a single scream coming out of his voice box now—screaming itself had become painful. He didn't know whether he was grateful that no one saw him in this state or whether he should be sad that he was dying alone.

Maybe this is how his life was destined to end. Alone. Like he had always been as far as he could remember.

A sense of déjà vu took over him. This was so similar to when he had first received a belt beating from a drunk Uncle Vernon, when he had been four. Harry had wanted in all of his hopes for the pain to lessen, and that was the first time, when he had subconsciously started healing himself. The pain had left him then, and the pain was lessening now. The dark spots slowly started vanishing, and he regained his whole vision of the eerily glowing walls of the chamber. The strength returned to Harry's muscles, but just as he was about to get up, a wave of vertigo washed over him. Then, he felt something being placed atop his head.

'Fawkes has healed the wounds you received from the basilisk fang,' said the Sorting Hat. 'Congratulations, Mr. Potter, you are also the first person to have survived basilisk venom. I had not known Phoenix tears are capable of healing the deadliest poison in the world. But as it stands, your ribs are broken, and there are a few bruises here and there, nothing Pomfrey can't fix with a night's rest though.'

Just as the hat had mentioned about his broken ribs, he coughed some blood out.

However, his eyes fell to his shoulder. There was a scar on his shoulder.

'I'm afraid that scar's going to remain,' said the Hat. 'All four of them.'

"Thank you," whispered Harry. His eyes fell on the majestic bird which glanced at him in concern. "Both of you."

He stood up shakily, his feet a bit wobbly. Harry stuck his hand out and the next moment, he found his wand flying towards him among the rubble of Salazar Slytherin's statue. He caressed it lovingly.

He looked at the gleaming sword, encrusted with red rubies on the handle.

"You said it belongs to a founder," he said picking it up. Harry could then only guess the person it belonged to. He looked at the blade of the sword. Engraved on it, was the name—'GODRIC GRYFFINDOR'.

"Has Dumbledore returned?" asked Harry his eyes still fixed on the engraving of the founder's name.

'Returned just now,' said the old Hat. 'A suspension which only lasted for a day,' said the hat amusedly.

"Can you take me to him, Fawkes?" asked Harry.

Fawkes flew over to his shoulder and Harry saw flames engulf him again.

---

"But—but—do you have any idea how the public will react if Harry Potter dies?" asked the blustering form of Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, gazing around nervously.

"You seem more concerned about the public's reaction than the boy's well-being, Cornelius," said Dumbledore coldly.

"What? Of—of course not, Dumbledore!" The portly man said. "But—but—"

"There's nothing we can do," said Amelia Bones, the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, finally. "The aurors have seen out every student to the Express, and now we will call upon the best curse breakers of Gringotts, and try to find the basilisk—we will call help from Egypt, Germany or Brazil if the need be!"

"But, Amelia do you have any idea how much it would cost?" asked Fudge weakly.

Amelia had to resist the urge to shake her head in disgust as she stared at the Minister.

"Each knut would be worth it, Minister," said Professor McGonagall coldly. Amelia remembered the Transfiguration Mistress from her time at school. Strict yet fair were perhaps the best words to describe her, and above all she did dearly care for her students and their well-being. "And we would try our best to find Harry—the boy cannot die—out of—out of—" her voice almost cracked and Amelia could swear she nearly heard a sob escaping her throat.

"He is the most astonishing young man," said Dumbledore gazing at his aged fingers sadly. Amelia was so used to seeing the Headmaster cheerful nowadays, wearing his bright glossy robes and his eyes twinkling—it was like seeing a totally different person today, his expression down with grief. Dumbledore had not looked this old and tired since—well, 1981. "Maybe by some miracle—"

"Albus, but as it so happens—we are talking about a basilisk!" said Amelia unable to stop her emotions from overwhelming her. "The last time a basilisk existed, two hundred and fifty people died."

Fudge let out a whimper, and started looking around as if expecting a basilisk to emerge any moment.

Harry Potter was just the same age as her niece Susan, to whom she has been the guardian to ever since her brother and her sister-in-law (Susan's parents) had been murdered at the hands of Antonin Dolohov. Susan was just a three months old baby then. It pained her to imagine that a boy of her niece's age had to die in what is supposed to be the safest place in the Wizarding World. She also knew his parents, James Potter and Lily Potter, both were two years younger than her and perhaps one of the best of the Auror recruits. She remembered the time Lily Potter had saved her life just before Rudolphus Lestrange was about to utter the final words of 'Avada Kedavra'. Today she was speaking for the son of two of her wonderful colleagues rather than merely the Boy-Who-Lived. She didn't care for titles. "If Harry Potter cannot be found, it can only mean one—"

At that moment, a burst of flames erupted from one side of Dumbledore's office, causing all of them to flinch, and Madam Bones and Minerva to draw their wands out.

When the flames disappeared, there stood a boy, nearly covered all over in blood, a very old hat atop his head (she immediately recognised it was the Sorting Hat), and carrying a gleaming sword. A magnificent red and golden coloured bird was perched on the boy's shoulder. It was Dumbledore's phoenix—Fawkes.

"INFERI!" cried out Fudge, running behind the Headmaster's desk causing some of Dumbledore's instruments to fall on the floor, having been knocked out by the blustering figure of the Minister.

"That's very insulting," said the boy. "I can't look that bad, can I?"

Amelia watched McGonagall's eyebrows shoot up into her hairline as a hint of recognition crossed her face.

The boy seemed to be taking in his appearance. "Or maybe I do."

"Harry!" cried out the Transfiguration Mistress in shock.

Harry Potter approached them, limping a little, leaning slightly on the sword in his hand.

"Harry? Harry Potter?" Amelia asked, barely managing to hide her surprise, looking at McGongall and then at the boy.

"Harry Potter?" asked the Minister, ducking his head out from under the table.

"Yes, it's Harry Potter!" snapped the Sorting Hat, from where it sat on the boy's head. "Now stop saying his name again and again…it's irritating!"

"The basilisk's dead," declared Harry finally. "I don't think the school needs to be closed. But a team of goblins would be a brilliant idea—the Sorting Hat here tells me it'll fetch a good amount of galleons if I harvest it."

"Wha—how?" Minerva searched for words which didn't come to her.

"The basilisk is dead?" asked Dumbledore hopefully, his eyes twinkling slightly. "Harry…I must say you never cease to amaze me."

"Well, Fawkes—" he suddenly took a sharp breath, but it was so brief, and for the fact that most of the adults had only started to get over their shocks, that it went unnoticed. "—Fawkes helped me a lot", said Harry. "I would've died long ago, if Fawkes or the Sorting Hat hadn't been there. The Hat gave me the sword."

"You—you are saying—" began Amelia "—with a sword?" She had lost her ability to form proper coherent sentences.

"Not just any sword," said Harry. "It's Godric Gryffindor's sword," he placed the sword on Dumbledore's ornate table. He leaned slightly on the desk, and it was then that Amelia realised that he was having trouble standing up. But her eyes were drawn to the name engraved on the blade of the sword—'GODRIC GRYFFINDOR'.

"I can show you the body of the basilisk now if—if—" The boy started coughing up blood, which fell on the desk and started gasping for air. This time, McGonagall went up to him and held his shoulders gently.

"I—I've broken—mah—mah—ribs—I guess," said Harry, barely managing to breathe.

Dumbledore waved his wand. "I've repaired your ribs, Harry," said the old Headmaster, worry etched on his face. "But you are not in a good state—it's better if you spend the night in the Hospital Wing. We can go visit the Chamber of Secrets when you are well again. Minerva, please take Harry to the Hospital Wing."

McGonagall just nodded numbly. "Come, Mr. Potter."

Halfway to the Hospital Wing, Harry lost his consciousness and a worried McGonagall had to levitate his body to the infirmary at a quickened pace.

---

"…the boy has perhaps the deadliest poison flowing through his veins," Harry heard a female voice say. He tried to recall where he was, when he felt the presence of minds of a frantic Madam Pomfrey, a blonde woman, Jessica Abbot and a brown haired man, Evan Adams, both healers from the St. Mungo's flooded into him. He felt as if magic was constantly being used on him and someone chugging many disgusting potions down his throat. It wasn't Madam Pomphrey's voice, so it must be the healer Jessica Abbot. "And I have seen the one of a Maledictus, and it is the deadliest one there is—"

"It's basilisk poison," whispered another female voice in awe. He couldn't quite place it who it was, though "The boy—how did he survive basilisk poison?"

"Look at the scars," said a male voice. Yes, this belonged to healer Evan Adams. "Maybe that's where the basilisk bit him…wait, it could be Dumbledore's phoenix! I didn't know phoenix tears could counteract basilisk poison!"

It was then that Harry noticed that he was stark naked, although there was a bedsheet covering him.

He tried to get up, but a headache seemed to overwhelm him, causing him to groan. Harry's eyes flinched from the bright light around him.

Two soft and comforting hands pushed his shoulders back to the bed. "Mr. Potter, don't get up—"

"I'm naked!" exclaimed Harry, embarrassed. Even more so when he realised that the person right in front of him was a woman.

"Your clothes were drenched in blood, Mr. Potter," came a stern voice, and he knew very well it could be only one person's voice—Madam Pomfrey. "Moreover, there were numerous bruises which needed to be healed. On a different note, don't get me started on how we reacted when we found a poison, which was the deadliest anyone has seen in the history of wizardkind, flowing through your veins!"

"Well, it was a basilisk," Harry defended himself weakly, his eyes slowly adjusting to the bright light and finding the four figures around him. "What did you expect?"

"We don't even know how you're alive," said Evan Adams, who was standing beside him. "Theoretically, you should be dead."

"I'm asking myself the very same question," said Harry dryly. "But still, can I get some clothes?"

Evan Adams flicked his wand and a hospital gown appeared over Harry's body.

"However, some questions remain," said Amelia Bones, who also was in the Hospital Wing too. It is she, who had spoken earlier. "While you do need a bit of a recovery to do, can you tell me where exactly does the basilisk lie, or if Dumbledore's theory is true, where exactly is the fabled Chamber of Secrets?"

"You can't get there without me," said Harry. "You really can't," he urged her on seeing that she was about to say something. "But anyways, I'm feeling a lot better now, so maybe I could go—"

"You will stay here till dinner time at least!" said Madam Pomphrey with a sense of finality in her tone.

"I'm feeling fine!" insisted Harry.

"I will decide that!"

"All right—all right—I believe we can wait for six or so hours," said Amelia Bones, looking at the wall clock, which showed a time of half past twelve in the afternoon.

"You might want to get some brooms," said Harry. "And it's pretty slimy and dirty down there, because of all the dead animal bones and carcasses, the basilisk fed on."

"We'll keep that in mind," said Bones curtly.

"What happened to the others? I mean, the students don't need to go now, do they?" asked Harry.

"The Winter break would've started in three days anyways," replied Bones. "But the school is not shutting down, thanks to you, and they'd have to return when the term resumes on January 4th. The media is going ballistic though, they've all camped in Hogsmeade," she sighed wearily. "Anyways, I will go now, Mr. Potter."

As soon as Bones had left, the three healers carried on with their examination on Harry's body. The Mandrake Draught would take some time to be completed though, and so the petrified victims would remain petrified for the time being. They had also taken a note of all the blood in his eyes. His eyes were fine now, though.

But another thought revolved around his mind. Had Ginny taken the diary of Emily Riddle with her? Who was he kidding—of course, she had!

Harry had barely noticed a beetle perched on one of the bedside tables, since it had been nine in the morning, and it wasn't in a hurry to go now too. The beetle had odd marking around its eyes. Despite Harry's legilimency being nearly infallible, it didn't work on any creature, unless he performed it willingly, and not as a reflex he was used to doing. But, why would he even perform legilimency on an unsuspecting creature?

He had been fed another batch of disgusting potions, and had to stay in there, bored out of his mind. Dumbledore had come to visit him, and so had the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. Harry didn't like the man much, but he didn't show it to him. McGonagall had also visited him once, during the day. He had made sure no one could hear them when he told Dumbledore the full truth, including the fact that he was a parselmouth.

He told him about Emily Riddle and her diary, the Chamber of Secrets, and what exactly happened fifty years ago, and this year.

"I was most impressed by your deduction skills, Harry," revealed Dumbledore. "Minerva told us about how you came to your conclusions, but what is most impressive is that you were already two steps ahead of what you told them."

"Professor—the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets—its—"

"Only opened by a Parselmouth," finished Dumbledore for him. "Harry, the best solution would be to conjure a snake and make it hiss something at it…I don't know how well the others would take you being a parselmouth. However—" Dumbledore stroked his beard carefully "—what interests me is the diary of Emily Riddle which you told me about. You were correct in guessing that not even the most complex of enchanting is capable of what it did…especially thinking on its own and possessing someone. The Sorting Hat, for example, works on a very complex bit of magic, and lest I say it, it falls into a branch of magic which people frown upon nowadays, and still it is not capable of possessing someone."

"But you have a hunch of what it might be?"

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "It's some very dark magic, if I do say so myself—but what beats me is that it is supposed to be hidden, and not used in the way it was."

"Riddle herself was shocked and might I add—disgusted, that she gave 'one of my most prized possessions to one of those blonde twats'", Harry said with a mimic of a feminine voice. "Her words, not mine."

"The Malfoy vault is among the most protected vaults in Gringotts," mused Dumbledore. He started rummaging in his pocket, and took out a pipe. "Do you mind, Harry? It's a bad habit I picked up from when I was young."

Harry shook his head. But there was just one thought that came to his mind seeing Dumbledore light his pipe. Gandalf the Grey.

"It might be the case that Malfoy wanted to get rid of his master's artifacts, and at the same time take his revenge on Arthur Weasley," said Dumbledore, letting out a puff of smoke. "However, we've got a story to think of, Harry."

"Because Fudge would go ballistic if something like the Dark Lady being alive came to his ears," said Harry matter-of-factly.

"Quite," commented Dumbledore, with twinkling eyes. "And I'm afraid of what he'll do after he goes…uh…ballistic, as you most aptly mentioned."

That evening found Harry, Dumbledore, Snape and Bones standing before the first floor girls' bathroom. Dumbledore believed Snape could really help with the harvesting and overlook the process when the goblins came in. The four of them had brooms to each other.

"This is a girls' bathroom," said Bones, bemused.

"And this is where the entrance is," replied Harry simply. "Who knows, maybe Salazar Slytherin was a perverted pedophile."

"And what exactly were you doing in a girls' bathroom, Potter?" asked Snape snidely.

"Uh…well…" Harry blushed on hearing the thoughts going inside Bones' and Snape's mind. "Hagrid told me about Myrtle Warren dying fifty years ago. I came to merely investigate the matter with Moaning Myrtle."

The party entered the girls' bathroom, just as they found Moaning Myrtle crying her eyes out and having started flooding the bathroom again.

"Harry?" asked Moaning Myrtle, raising her head as he entered. "You've come to see me again?" she asked hopefully. Her eyebrows shot up when she saw three other people enter the bathroom too.

"Hullo Myrtle," greeted Harry. "I'm a bit busy right now, they've all come to go visit the Chamber…uh…"

He quickly flicked his wand and a snake appeared, having forgotten he was supposed to say an incantation.

"You're capable of non-verbal spells?" asked Bones impressed. Snape's eyebrows had shot up in surprise, and even the Potions professor could barely conceal that he was impressed.

"Uh…yeah," said Harry awkwardly. He motioned his wand, and the snake let out a hiss.

The three parts of the pillar shifted from their positions making a grinding noise, revealing three human sized doorways.

"Vipera Evanesco," incanted Harry causing the snake to disappear.

"It's a deep abyss," said Harry. "We need to get on the brooms now."

He jumped into the abyss, and boarded his broom while in a free fall, and zoomed deep into the tunnel. He could hear three 'whoosh!' behind him indicating that the others were following him. Harry slowed his broom as he found the slope of the tunnel getting gentler, which was followed by the rotting smell overwhelming his senses again. He landed atop a heap of dead animal bones, and he was followed by the others, who landed near him.

The party of four moved through the intermediary chamber, with the bones and rotten carcasses of animals crunching against their boots. Most had their nose scrunched up in disgust. Seven balls of light lit up the entire place.

"That's fresh blood," said Bones, crouching down to examine the spot where she found that blood.

"Yeah, that's where I landed when the basilisk had struck me with its tail," said Harry, wincing a bit at the memory. "It was painful."

They continued on through the intermediary chamber and reached the circular opening which lead to the main chamber. Stepping through it, the four stepped into the eerily glowing main chamber.

"Sweet Morgana!" cried Bones, retracing her steps as she stared at the main chamber in shock. "And—is that—"

In the main chamber lay the unmoving body of the huge beast, its body strewn across the floor. It was easily more than seventy feet big, each of its fang, a foot long. The eyes were great big yellow, but they had lost the magic it previously possessed. The snout of the basilisk was fully split, running to the middle of its eye. It was lying atop a pool of its own blood. Despite being dead, the creature looked very much alive. On the other end of chamber lay a pile of rubble.

"You—you faced that?!" Bones nearly screamed. "All alone?"

"No Fawkes and the Sorting Hat were with me, remember?" Harry pointed out.

Even Snape was staring at him in awe and astonishment, which mildly irritated him, he won't lie. For the first time in his life, the professor seemed to be really in awe at something he did.

"There was a statue of Salazar Slytherin there," Harry pointed at the pile of rubble. "But the basilisk struck that place down, when Fawkes had flamed there, when escaping from that place." He pointed at the crater in the middle of the hall. "It was unimaginably fast for its size, and had Fawkes not flew me around, I wouldn't have been able to fight it."

"Flew you around?" asked Snape.

"Phoenix are capable of carrying the heaviest of weights," said Dumbledore.

"You mean to say you participated in an aerial combat?" asked Bones. To say that she was impressed would be an understatement.

"Well…it wasn't that big a deal," muttered Harry.

"But how did you survive a basilisk's gaze?" asked Snape.

Harry would've really liked to say, 'Because, I'm Harry Potter', but he let Dumbledore answer the question as they had planned.

"It's a bit complicated, really," said Dumbledore. "A basilisk's gaze is like a wandless Avada Kedavra and thus it requires an unimaginable amount of power, and something other than a direct gaze can cause petrifications. And magic is more about intent than anything…" Dumbledore carried on a long looped tirade which didn't reveal Harry's ability to do magic wandlessly. On seeing most get a little confused, he ended with "…and thus by using the theory of intent based shielding, Harry was able to hold his own against the basilisk's gaze."

Bones and Snape, however, did catch onto Dumbledore's evasiveness, but they didn't choose to comment on it.

"It's really something else you did here, Mr. Potter," said Bones, shaking her head. "I don't know how any of us, except perhaps Professor Dumbledore would've even stood up to this. The press will go ballistic on hearing this."

"I'm sorry Madam Bones," began Harry slowly. "I don't really want this getting out."

"What?!" Exclaimed Bones in barely unconcealed shock.

Harry knew what was going through her head. The boy, who had not only survived a Killing Curse, but now basilisk venom, and a direct stare with a basilisk, didn't want this to get out. Anyone else would've been scrambling at the opportunity to take credit for doing this.

"I don't really want people to know this," continued Harry. "If this gets out, people will start—they've just started to not look at me in awe every single time they see me quite recently, and I really don't want that to start all over again. People are still holding onto an accident which had happened eleven years ago, to which I had no contribution whatsoever—"

"But this is something you did," stressed Bones. "This is no accident or fluke—you faced this monster all alone, when none could even think about facing this!"

"Well to be honest, I didn't really think before coming here," said Harry, a bit embarrassed. "I was just worried about Hogwarts closing down, because—because this is the only place I've ever felt at home. This is where I met my friends, and that's what happened. I really wasn't thinking about stuff like peace and harmony and righteousness—I just—my motivations were for my own, really—"

"Others would leap at an opportunity to claim the glory for themselves," commented Snape in a matter-of-fact tone, his eyes studying Harry. "A feat like this would make them famous and their stories written down in history books."

"I have enough fame as it is," said Harry in a tone of finality. "I don't want any more!"

"Then what do we tell the press? What do we tell the Aurors or the people?" asked Bones.

"Tell them Dumbledore did it—or better yet—tell them you were the one who did it," Harry told Bones.

"Yes, a splendid idea!" said Dumbledore merrily. "I don't want people hailing me yet once again, when I haven't even done anything."

Bones was taken aback by Harry's blunt reply, "What—Mr. Potter—Professor—"

"Tell them that you interrogated Myrtle," continued Harry. "How you took upon the clue and went down to face the monster. Tell people, you killed it with—Fiendfyre—oh wait, that couldn't have left the carcass—"

"Mr. Potter—"

"—you don't really have tell them that the basilisk's eyes were intact, tell them you blinded it or something—the next you were shooting spells in its mouth which was enough to take it down—they'll eat it up—"

Dumbledore appeared if nothing, but amused at the scene unfolding in front of him.

Bones stared at Harry like he'd gone mad. Snape had put up an unreadable face but he knew that inside the mask of indifference there was an expression of disbelief etched on the Potions Master's face.

"You don't know what you're talking about, Mr. Potter," said Bones frowning at him. "I can't simply take credit for something which I haven't done."

"And that is exactly why I'm asking you to take credit for it," said Harry coolly.

"Harry is right, Amelia," said Dumbledore finally.

Bones stared incredulously at the newly reinstated Headmaster.

"It's better that he doesn't be a part of all this," continued Dumbledore. "Think about what would happen if the world knew what a twelve year old boy is capable of this. It would hinder Harry's growth to be the person he would one day be capable of being—and I speak so as his guardian, who cares for him. People would be turning to a teenager to solve everything, and if he isn't able to—it'd fill them with bitterness against that person. Something which happened to me. Fame is a great responsibility to keep, and Harry is not ready for it. Fame is a fickle friend, Amelia. Moreover, I can't see anyone other than you who is a more deserving candidate. And I believe this wouldn't be the only time Harry would succeed in performing great accomplishments—his time would come when he is ready. Don't underestimate the boy like that."

"Then, why don't you take the credit for this?" countered Bones. "People would really buy the story, if it is said, it was you."

"Why don't you give an old man a break, Amelia?" asked Dumbledore wearily. "Moreover, Harry will be harvesting the basilisk, and would be taking the proceeds, which I believe would earn him quite a sum of galleons. The goblins are even coming on the 23rd to help with the harvesting and Professor Snape here would overlook the business. He is not asking you take the carcass now, is he?"

"But I—"

"Please, Madam Bones," Harry requested.

Bones sighed. "Mr. Potter, I don't know what to say about this," she said.

"I think it'd be best if it's someone whom—whom the public would feel secure if they knew who did this," said Fudge very importantly, once Harry, Dumbledore and Bones were back at the Headmaster's office, where the Minister and McGonagall were waiting. Snape had decided to stay in the Chamber of Secrets and make a rough estimate of what the market price of the basilisk carcass might amount to. The Minister continued. "It would give a boost to people's morale."

They were also joined by Jessica Abbott, Evan Adams and Madame Pomfrey. It was necessary that those who were aware of the true events knew about how they were changing their story accordingly.

Harry knew very well Fudge was subtly hinting at himself.

"I fully agree with you Minister," said Harry, causing Fudge to look like he'd cracked a jackpot. "Madam Bones is the Head of Department of Magical Law Enforcement and the story of her defeating a legendary beast to save the school—" Harry took great joy in seeing the 'having cracked a jackpot' look disappear off his face. "Well, if this doesn't boost people's morale, I don't know what else would."

"Excellently put, Harry," said Dumbledore, and Harry could almost feel a smirk directed at Fudge from the old man. Dumbledore was evil. He truly was. "So, I believe this could be one of our secrets? Among those who are present here?"

Everyone nodded their head in acknowledgement. Seeing everyone, Bones finally nodded, albeit hesitantly. The story would be released to the media that Madam Bones was the one who had finally discovered the entrance to the fabled Chamber of Secrets and had managed to slay the beast which resided inside the Chamber—a basilisk.

That night, every adult present in Dumbledore's office, including the portraits, who knew of the true events, had formed a newfound respect for the twelve year old boy. Well, except Fudge, who thought that the boy was gullible and stupid, and calculated prospects of manipulating the boy in the future for his own gains.

Harry didn't care though. He was content knowing that he would have a peaceful term ahead.

AMELIA BONES SLAYS BASILISK! HOGWARTS TO REOPEN AFTER WINTER BREAK!

The sales of the Daily Prophet had skyrocketed like never before. It still didn't quite break the record of 2nd November 1981, but it was a close ninth in the recent memory of the Wizarding populace. People from all over the Wizarding World were now speaking of the emerging of a basilisk in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The black market dealers were already drooling at the thought of the good deal they would get if they managed to get a hold of a small vial of basilisk poison or even a shed of its skin.

The frail figure of Nicolas Flamel chuckled as he read the Daily Prophet (it would take a while before the French daily got the story in their papers) covering the story of how the basilisk was slain. He took a sip of his hot chocolate. With old age, you really do get a sweet tooth.

"I've told you before, Nicolas," said the voice of Perenelle Flamel, "the boy is meant for great things. He will create waves in the Wizarding World."

"He already has," remarked Nicolas Flamel, idly smiling at his wife, who was busy gazing at a crystal ball while she spoke.

"This is nothing," her eyes sparkled as she saw the silhouette of a tall man appearing in her crystal ball. With a swish of the man's wand the image dissolved, but with such force that the crystal ball even shook. "Believe me, this is nothing."

The news of the basilisk had also reached Nurmengard Castle. Gellert Grindelwald found himself looking into the distance from the window of the cellar where he had been imprisoned.

Harry Potter

The name had first reached him about eleven years ago and he knew that something was forming. People had spoken about how Grindelwald had the sight to gaze into the future, and some rumours were indeed true. He knew something had shifted that day. And it all surrounded the baby who had been orphaned that fateful night.

He had gotten a vision eight days prior, of the same boy, barely twelve years old, facing a deadly beast, which he had not even known existed. It wasn't some auror—Bones or whatever her name was, that had slain the basilisk. It was a twelve year old wizard who had started his magical education just one and a half years prior who had performed the task. But what was it that made this event so significant for the future of the Wizarding World? It was an exceptional feat indeed, but why had slaying of a beast caused such a great sway in the future events? Only time would tell.

"I thought it was a constant point," said the gruff voice of a man.

"It is," answered a cool female voice.

"Then, why did it change?" demanded the man. "Do you know what this means?"

"The war would come here, yes," replied the woman, with a hint of resignation in her tone.

"Then, what is that we should do?"

"Prepare for it," answered the woman again. "And we have to keep an eye on Harry Potter too."

"Do you think he is the Chosen One?"

"Oh, I'm sure of it," chuckled the woman.

Quite a contrast from the city of Hong Kong where the previous scene took place, Fedorov and Azevedo were walking down the snowcapped streets of Moscow.

"What is Dumbledore upto now?" asked Fedorov.

"I never really understood that man," replied Azevedo. "I want you to take a vacation across the British soil, Fedorov. I want to know everything about this whole basilisk debacle," her lips curved into an amused smile, "and remember that however a strong legilimens you might be, Dumbledore is an occlumens on an entirely different level. Don't attempt legilimency on him."

"I'd be cautious, Mistress," the man half bowed.

"It's better if you do," said Azevedo.

In the village of Tirana in Albania, a shaggy haired woman's head shot up when she heard the word basilisk in the pub. Her eyes followed the three strangely dressed men talking in hushed whispers. They weren't hushed enough for her though. She started approaching them, when she felt herself be shoved to the wall of the pub by a rather beefy man who reeked of alcohol. The man started babbling in Albanian and was almost on the verge of unbuckling his belt right then and there.

Was this Agnes woman a prostitute of all things? She should try legilimency on the next person she possessed from now on.

A whispered incantation later, the beefy man was on the floor having passed out and snoring rather loudly.

She could even get a wand from one of them. And possessing a prostitute might just help her, as it would be easier to steal a wand when she was trying to seduce the wizard. Her eyes sparkled red for the briefest of seconds, before she greeted the three wizards.

A quick answer to some of the reviews:

Hogwarts is capable of holding 1000 students. But it doesn't necessarily mean that there are 1000 students in the school. Maybe, in the cannon there were 1000 students, but in my story there are only about 300 students by Harry's second year. I wanted tidbits of the differences in this world and the cannon's to appear slowly as the story went on (this part about the student population was supposed to be made known to you through a conversation when the sorting takes place in September 1993). In my story, Slytherins would play a very complicated role. This is what I can say for now, and would request you to please continue following my story and you have no idea how much I appreciate all your reviews and favourites.

Next, the tea comment was a joke.

As for some of the mistakes, I'll mend it within a month or so. You'll also find more chapters being uploaded then. I plan to finish Harry's third year before the month of July begins. Or maybe even start the fourth year for a bit. Things would get really interesting then.

Edit (30.06.2022)

Yeah, I should've posted three chapters by now, I know, and I am really really sorry for not being able to keep my word. While writing the tenth chapter, I thought of a rather brilliant plot for the third year (if I do say so myself) which would facilitate Harry's character development and give the events of the fourth and fifth year more meaning. I will admit, I had planned on the third year being just a bridge chapter, but I do not intend to do so now. I hope on the quality of story improving after these changes I've made, and I am really looking forward to it. And, just for the change of tone, I'm thinking of writing the third year in a slightly different manner, that is using dates before any events play out. This shall not be done in the later chapters, but you would have ease in understanding the flow of events if I do so for this year alone (two or three chapters, I reckon?)

Again, I am sorry for the delay, but I'd rather my story be written to the best of my capabilities rather than what I had planned before (which I would consider lazy writing now).