Harry walked slowly in the direction of the Defense against the Dark Arts classroom, dreading his first lesson with Lockhart. Honestly, the man was a complete fraud. Harry was unsure what to expect from the class this year. He suspected it would entail something dreadfully boring, foolish, or a combination of the two.

He walked into the Defense classroom and took his usual seat beside Hermione. "Ready for the lesson, Hermione?" he asked.

She looked at him, and he was unable to read the expression on her face. "I'm not entirely sure. If half of what Lockhart writes is true, he's an exceptional wizard, but I have my doubts. Let's see how this first lesson goes."

Lockhart walked into the room, his royal blue robes fluttering behind him. "Good morning, class." He looked directly at Harry. "I cannot begin to tell you how privileged you are to have yours truly as your instructor in the noble course of Defense against the Dark Arts." He looked at the assembled students and saw more than a few skeptical faces amongst the Ravenclaws. "Perhaps an introduction is in order. For those of you who," he chuckled, "Don't already know me, I am Professor Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award." He flashed the class a toothy grin that left many of the females swooning.

Lockhart proceeded to pass out quiz that Harry was almost entirely sure he failed. He doubted that Lockhart's greatest ambition was to "find a suitable place to shove all his quills," or that his greatest accomplishment to date was "prying himself away from the mirror in the morning," but he could not be bothered with answering the questions to Lockhart's desire.

"Alright, class," Lockhart beamed after collecting the quizzes, "How about a practical lesson?"

He removed a cover to reveal a cage of pixies.

Harry looked at Hermione. "I'll wager five galleons that he releases them."

"I'll take you up on that. He couldn't possibly be that daft. That many pixies would destroy the classroom."

They shook hands and turned their attention back to Lockhart. "Let's see what you make of them." With a flourish of his wand, the pixies were released.

Hermione sighed, hardly believing that a professor could be so foolish. "Double or nothing I can stun more than you."

Harry grinned and pulled out his wand, immediately stunning a pixie that had flown behind Hermione's head. "Sure thing."

Dual cries of "Stupefy" echoed throughout the room for the next ten minutes. When all was said and done, the room was in disarray, Lockhart was hiding beneath his desk, and Harry had stunned three more pixies than Hermione. She reluctantly handed him ten galleons as they left class at the end of the lesson.

After that disastrous first class, Lockhart had shied away from practical lessons. The rest of Harry's classes were largely the same as they were the previous year. He was still the top of his class in Charms with only Hermione besting him in Transfiguration.

As soon as he was able, he had made his way to the library to learn about his ability to talk to snakes. It was, apparently, referred to as parseltongue, and Harry was thrilled to note that many exceptional wizards had been parselmouths. Harry disagreed with their principles, but Salazar Slytherin and Lord Voldemort were great wizards.

He told Hermione about his ability as soon as he knew what it was called. "Hermione, what do you know about parseltongue?"

"The ability to speak to snakes?"

"Yep."

"Not much, really. Not a lot is written about it, because it's usually associated with dark wizards."

Harry grinned at her. "I can speak it."

She gasped, before returning his smile. "You're full of surprises, Harry Potter."

After a particularly difficult Charms lesson which Harry had mastered, Flitwick asked for him to stay after class.

The diminutive professor approached him after the rest of the students had left the room, with a large smile on his face. "Harry my boy, you have shown more aptitude for Charms than any student I have ever taught. Your mother was truly gifted, but you surpass even her ability."

"Thank you, Professor."

"Would you consent to taking additional nightly Charms lessons? I believe you might be a prodigy in the subject."

Harry did not even have to consider the offer. "I'd be delighted."

Flitwick smiled at him. "We'll begin tomorrow night, if that's not a problem."

"Of course not." Harry turned to leave, before remembering an earlier conversation with the Headmaster. "Professor Flitwick, would it be possible for you to teach me how to duel during these lessons?"

"I had planned on doing that, Harry. Some of the more advanced Charms work is only really appropriate in duels or battle settings."

He smiled down at Flitwick. "Thanks, Professor."

The extra tuition began the next night as scheduled, and Flitwick's belief that Harry was a Charms prodigy was strengthened. He quickly demonstrated that he had already mastered all of the second year Charms, leaving the Professor extremely pleased.

"What do you know of the Patronus Charm, Harry?" asked Flitwick.

Harry ran his hands through his hair while he considered the question. "I know the incantation and what it's used for, but I've never managed to cast it," he admitted.

"Not to worry, my boy. It's a tricky spell to get right, but with some help you should have it in no time," he said, smiling widely.

"I understand the theory. The magic is difficult, but nothing I can't handle," he paused, looking at the floor ashamedly, "But I don't have any memories happy enough to make it work."

A look of understanding appeared on Flitwick's face. He did not know much about Harry's home life, but seriously doubted that it had been pleasant. He cared deeply for the dedicated young man, and would do everything in his power to help him achieve his goals. "I'll do anything I can to help you get that happy memory," he said sincerely. "In the meantime, if ever you need to talk, you know where to find me."

Harry smiled down at him. "I think I'd like that, Professor Flitwick."

"Please call me Filius outside of class," he said, patting Harry on the shoulder. "I think that we've done enough for tonight. Your progress is astounding."

Harry thanked the professor-Filius,he reminded himself, and left the classroom.

As he rounded a corner, he heard a menacing voice hiss, "Rip, tear, kill…" He did not recognize the speaker, but the reading he had done on parseltongue allowed him to recognize it as the voice of a serpent.

He sprinted in the direction of the voice, hoping to save the snake's intended victim. The reading he had done on the subject told him that snakes typically bowed to the will of parseltongues, and even if the snake would not obey him, he doubted that it would withstand a simple Reductor.

He chased the voice across the corridor, but could not match its speed. The snake had lost him, but he did not think it had claimed a victim, as he had seen no one else during his pursuit.

An exhausted Harry Potter returned to Ravenclaw tower and contemplated the day's events as he collapsed on his bed.

"Greengrass," Draco Malfoy drawled, as he approached her in the Slytherin common room, "There's something we need to discuss."

"Why don't you discuss it with someone who doesn't wish you dead?" she asked, without looking up from the book she was reading.

He seethed internally, but managed to keep his emotions in check. "It is somewhat urgent," he ground out through clenched teeth.

"You've mistaken me for someone who gives a damn, Malfoy."

How I would like to put this impetuous girl in her place,he thought. "It's about Potter."

She finally looked up at him, and her eyes were blazing. "What about Harry?"

He smirked and his demeanor changed to one of smugness. "We, Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy, and I that is, have decided that you are to stop consorting with the half-blood."

Daphne laughed at him.

"What is so funny?" he growled.

"I find it amusing that," she forced out through another chuckle, "You believe yourself to be Harry's rival."

"Of course I'm Potter's rival! Someone has to keep the Golden Boy in line."

Daphne shook her head. "You just don't get it. Do you, Malfoy? You aren't Harry Potter's rival because he is a better wizard that you in every regard. You are a pest, a bothersome one I admit, but only a pest. Harry tolerates you because you have yet to do anything to truly anger him, but if you force his hand he will crush you."

Draco's face turned red by the end of Daphne's statement, and he raised his hand to strike her. Before he could act, her wand had appeared in a flash. "Petrificus Totalus!"

He collapsed to the floor, unable to move as she rose from her chair and loomed over him. She looked at him with undisguised rage. "Fighting like a Muggle now, eh Malfoy? Lucius would be proud," she said with a sneer. "What I said about Harry mostly applies to me as well, but I'll be less considerate." She brought her heel down on his nose and heard a satisfying crunch as the bone was crushed, and crimson blood flowed onto his expensive robes.

She leaned over him, her face inches from his, and whispered, "If you ever try that again, I will kill you. If you go crying to your father about this, I will kill you. And if you do anything to hurt Harry, I will kill you." Her voice held no malice as she said this- she was merely stating the facts. The fear in Malfoy's eyes was evident as she walked out of the room.

Harry helped himself to the Treacle Tart, silently thanking the powers that be that nothing had interrupted the Halloween Feast this year. He recalled the previous year, when Voldemort had allowed a troll into the castle. All in all, this Halloween had been rather uneventful, though he did find it unusual that none of the ghosts were present during the Feast.

After the remaining deserts disappeared, Harry and Hermione stood to leave the Great Hall. They walked toward the staircase, but were unable to go any further because everyone in front of them had come to a complete stop. He thought he heard someone yell something about "Mudbloods."

Probably Malfoy,he thought, as he inched his way forward, trying to see what had caused the commotion. He wedged his way through two older students and looked over the head of a first year, and saw a message written on the wall, in what appeared to be blood.

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED.

ENEMIES OF THE HEIR BEWARE.

Below the message was a large puddle of water and the caretaker's cat, Mrs. Norris, still and seemingly dead.

He glanced at Hermione, and motioned for her to follow him into an empty classroom. "So it's real, then? The Chamber of Secrets?" he asked.

"I don't know, Harry. It might just be a joke- you know how much everyone hates Filch. Then again, I don't think a student would have been able to petrify his cat."

"Petrify?" he asked.

"Yes. The cat was petrified, not killed. It can be hard to tell the difference, but the way it was positioned was too unnatural for it to have been dead."

Harry replayed the image in his mind and realized that Hermione's assessment was correct. "You're right," he said, nodding, "But what could have petrified that cat?"

She frowned and furrowed her brow in concentration. "I really don't know. The Chamber of Secrets is supposed to be the home of the Monster of Slytherin. That would suggest that it was a snake of some kind, but I can't think of a snake with venom that petrifies its victim."

Harry closed his eyes as he recalled something that had happened weeks earlier- specifically, his chase of a snake that he never even saw. "It's definitely a snake, but I don't know what kind," he said, suddenly grateful that he had not caught it.

Hermione looked at him worriedly. "Let's be extra careful, alright?"

Several weeks later, Harry sat alone at the Ravenclaw table eating breakfast. Hermione had decided to catch up on her sleep. Harry looked up as Roger Davies, an older Ravenclaw, walked briskly toward him. "Harry lad, I'm in need of some assistance."

"What can I do for you, Roger?" he asked.

"Well, our Seeker's gone and gotten herself put in the Hospital Wing on the same day as our first match," he said, looking annoyed at the inconvenience. "We don't have a reserve, and Hooch said that you're a natural on a broom. Will you help us out?"

Harry considered this for a moment. He really did enjoy flying, and he doubted that taking the time to play one match would interfere with his studies. "I'm in," he said, grinning. "What do I need to do?"

"Well, you'll be playing Seeker. It's simple enough to explain, but bloody difficult to do. You only have to do one thing. There'll be a tiny, gold ball- the Snitch. All you have to do is catch it," he said, looking thoughtful, "And try not to get knocked off your broom by a Bludger."

Harry shot into the air on the old school broom. It was probably the worst broom on the Pitch, but he outclassed most of the other players in terms of talent. Davies had informed him that the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff Chasers were fairly evenly matched, so the game would likely be decided by who caught the Snitch.

He felt the wind pound against his face as he rose higher and higher into the air. He finally came to a stop and began looking for the Snitch. He listened briefly to the commentary. "Harry Potter couldn't have picked a more difficult first match. Cedric Diggory is one of the better Seekers we've had at Hogwarts in the past few decades," the voice of Lee Jordan resounded through the stadium.

Harry heard the Bludger before he saw it. He noticed the soft whoosh, and moments later heard a sharp crack as the Bludger collided with his foot, cleanly snapping his ankle, causing him to double over in pain on his broom. It changed course, and rushed at him from the front. He ascended higher, barely avoiding being hit again.

He began an erratic flight through the stadium, trying in vain to lose the Rogue Bludger. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he felt it miss his head by millimeters. He urged the broom farther into the sky, playing a deadly game of cat and mouse. He turned his head to see if he was still being chased, and barely managed to roll out of the Bludger's path as his momentary delay gave it another chance to hit him.

He dove to the ground, intent on losing his pursuer, when he noticed a glint of gold. He sped toward it, extending his arm, as he neared the grass below. His hand closed around the Snitch at the same time the Bludger collided with the elbow of his outstretched arm, knocking him off of his broom and sending him crashing the remaining few meters to the ground.

Harry rolled onto his back and looked up, only to see the Bludger diving at his skull. "Not to worry!" he heard Gilderoy Lockhart say. "I'll take care of that pesky thing.Reducto!"

Damn! Why did it have to be Lockhart?Harry asked himself. He turned his head to face the Defense Professor, and saw his Reductor heading straight at his chest when his world went black.

Daphne sat, crying, in front of the Mirror. Hours earlier, she had seen the closest thing she had to a friend take a Reductor to the chest and a Bludger to the head simultaneously. It had all happenedtoofast. She had not had enough time to act. She had cast a shield which prevented the Bludger from doing any further damage, but she had been too late. Harry was lucky to be alive.

What disturbed her more was the response of a certain Gryffindor. Ginny Weasley wore a satisfied smirk on her face throughout the ordeal. If Daphne discovered that she had been involved, she would kill the little chit.

She recalled an earlier confrontation with the girl. She had seen her walking down the hallway writing in the book Lucius Malfoy had slipped her before the start of the year. She always seemed to have that thing with her.

"Keeping a diary, Weasley?" she asked, hoping to gleam some information about the book.

She looked up, and her eyes appeared to glow crimson before reverting to a dark brown. "Watch your back, Greengrass," she said evenly, before walking away.

She did not know what to think about the girl. Her personality was just…off, somehow. She needed guidance, and only trusted the opinion of her grandmother. "Should I tell Dumbledore?" she asked. She gazed into the Mirror, and saw her grandmother smile, nodding her head. She returned her grandmother's smile, but it failed to reach her eyes. "I'll tell him." As she rose from the floor, she saw, above her grandmother's head, an enormous pair of yellow, serpentine eyes. Her world went black.

Harry awoke, suddenly, when he felt a weight upon his chest. "Harry Potter sir, you must be leaving Hogwarts." He opened his eyes.

"Dobby! Why are you here?"

"To make you safe! Dobby had hoped they would send you home after his Bludger…"

Harry's eyes widened at the realization, before he scowled, asking in a deadly quiet voice, "Your Bludger, Dobby?"

The elf nodded his head vehemently. "Yes, Harry Potter, sir."

"Is there any particular reason you're trying to kill me?" he asked, his voice still quiet.

"Not kill! Dobby is trying to make you leave Hogwarts. The Chamber of Secrets is opened again, and-"

"Again?" Harry interrupted.

Dobby's eyes widened as he realized his mistake. He did not have time to punish himself, as they heard voices approaching the Hospital Wing. "You must be leaving Hogwarts," Dobby said, pleadingly, as he disappeared.

Harry closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep when the door opened. "What does this mean, Headmaster?" asked the voice of Severus Snape.

"It is as I feared, Severus. The Chamber of Secrets has, indeed, been opened again."

"Is the Dark Lord responsible?"

"I am not sure how, but I believe he is. Tom Riddle is the only student to have ever opened the Chamber, though my sources tell me that Voldemort has fled the island for the time being. Someone must be helping him."

So,Harry thought,Voldemort is responsible for this. And his real name is Tom Riddle.

"What can we do?" asked Snape.

Dumbledore sighed, "We try to stop him."

Harry heard the two men exit the room and close the door behind them. He opened his eyes, and noticed that the curtains were drawn around a bed that had previously been empty. He rose gingerly to his feet, as his ankle was still not fully mended, and walked slowly to the bed.

He pulled back the curtain, and felt his chest constrict painfully.Daphne.

Harry stood in stunned silence, not knowing what to do. He did not know how long he stood beside her bed. Time did not seem to matter.

He felt a lump in his throat as his eyes swelled, and a tear tracked down his cheek. He gently ran his finger across her cheek, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'll find out who helped Voldemort do this, Daphne," he said quietly, trying to suppress the tears. "When I do, I'll make them suffer."

He stared into her cobalt eyes a moment longer, before closing the curtain and returning to his bed, embracing the oblivion of his dreams.