Authors Note: I do not own Harry Potter.

Chapter 3

He was outside in a field. The grass was green and damp, the sky bright, but dotted with low thick clouds. There was a gentle breeze coming in from the sea, and he could hear the gulls calling from nearby. He stood still, relishing the fresh air, the cool salty breeze, and the wondrous view. So much nicer than London's dismal and filthy streets.

For a moment he could close his eyes and forget about his life in the awful orphanage. Forget about the lack of proper clothing, lack of food, lack of blankets, toys, books, everything. Forget about the older boys that liked to hunt the younger smaller children.

He'd been at the orphanage his whole life, he had no memories of his parents. No idea of who he was, or if he had any other family. While he was still young the older children mostly ignored him, but things changed when he turned five. No longer protected by the watchful eyes of the orphanage's matriarch, he was free to move about the house on his own. More specifically the older children were free to vent their own pain and frustration over their own miserable existence onto him and the other children.

It was hell.

The meager food that he received was now feeding the older boys, the few possessions he once held dear were missing or broken. Made to show deference and respect or face a beating his daily life was a never-ending cycle of both pain and misery.

That would all change today, today he would take the first step towards defending himself, towards avenging himself. He just needed some…volunteers.

His eyes shifted over to two of younger orphans, Daphne and James he recalled. They were far from the group looking at the ocean crashing into the rocks below.

They would do nicely.

…

Three days later found Dumbledore walking the same path from his office to the Hospital wing. He'd done the same trip multiple times a day since he returned to the Castle. He knew he could just call a house elf and ask for an update, but he wanted to see the boy, needed to know that he was still there, still fighting.

Despite his constant visiting and updates from Madam Pomfrey, very little had changed since his first visit days ago. According to Madam Pomfrey, his physical body was continuing to heal nicely, and his magical core was slowly replenishing. Both were good signs that he was on the mend, however, he still hadn't woken up. Furthermore, they wouldn't know how badly damaged his voice would be until then.

This constant worry weighed the Headmaster down as he continued his silent trudge to the Hospital Wing. The silence was yet another reminder of this tragedy. The end of the school year was only another day away, usually a cause for celebration and joy throughout the school. Usually.

Instead, a dark gloom had settled over the castle. Despite no announcement being made, news of Ginny Weasley's death had already made is rounds. While most of the students were saddened or horrified, the news hit Gryffindor house the hardest. Doubly so when some students realized that Harry still hadn't returned, and was likely grievously injured. Only the resuscitation and reuniting of the petrified students saved the house from breaking completely.

The remaining Weasley children had left school for home once Ronald woke up on the second day, young Ginerva's body included. He'd heard through Minerva that the family was opting for a small private funeral. It was unlikely that he'd hear from any of the Weasley's for some time.

Young Miss Granger was also having a rough time. Upon awakening, she was given the news that a friend was dead, another severely injured, and a third was no longer at the school. He was planning on sitting down with the girl later today, though in the meantime Minerva was keeping a close eye on her just in case.

The other petrified students were facing similar difficulties, but at least had the support of their friends and houses.

Of course, not all the students were saddened by current state of events. Severus' report of the whispers inside Slytherin were most distressing. The younger students, the first years and some of the second years, seemed genuinely concerned with the news, but it appears many of the older students were unaffected, or worse gleeful.

He was at a loss on how to proceed there. The house was seemingly broken, so entrenched in the views and bigotry of their families or older Slytherin Alumni that they would view the death of a fellow student as not only acceptable but justified because they did not share those same views. This was not news to Albus of course; Severus had been reporting on this divide for some time now, enough that he had even assigned the man the task of trying to root it out.

A task the man had yet to complete.

Sighing once more Albus gave himself a mental shake. With the school year ending and the students bound for home tomorrow, there was little to do about the internal politics of the House of Snakes.

Passing the main entranceway, he thought back to his most recent trip down to the Chamber with the Aurors in tow. While only a few days ago, it seemed like an age. Auror Stevens, as sharp now as he was during his Hufflepuff days, had quickly grasped the seriousness of the situation. Albus was forced to explain much of the events in great detail, as well as some of his own guesswork and theories before the Auror would relent and agree to assist.

Harry's ordeal down in the chamber was terrible, but so far it was still secret. The shade of Voldemort from the Diary had not escaped, but instead had perished there on the chamber floor leaving nothing but a black stain upon the stone. There it would remain, alone and forgotten. For Harry's sake, it needed to stay secret. If word got out to Voldemort or his allies of what truly transpired then Dumbledore feared what he might do.

After much discussion Stevens agreed, and would support Dumbledore's explanation that the basilisk was acting alone, striking out from deep within the castle where it had been nesting. While large and sprawling in its own way, the castle had been built upon an older structure. The Castles very foundations built upon the dungeons and crypts of the old. Previous headmasters had placed complex wards and even built new walls to prevent access to these areas. A weakness in just one of the many barriers between old and new would allow the Basilisk access to the Castle above, where it could use the network of pipes to move about freely.

As much as Dumbledore would like to keep this whole situation quiet, the Ministry's involvement was unavoidable at this stage. Instead, he'd have to work with them to control the story and investigation.

In this, Stevens' help would prove invaluable. His initial report confirmed Albus' statement, as well as verifying his removal from the school by the Board prior to the incident shifting the focus of responsibility. No doubt the Ministry would want to investigate further to ensure no other creatures lurked down below. Therefore, Stevens as both an Auror captain, and the lead investigator on this case would assemble a team of Auror's that he could trust.

Dumbledore did not expect to find anything else below, but needed to keep both the Ministry and the student's parents happy. Plus, it would provide him the opportunity to scout some of the newer Auror's for talent and trustworthy individuals.

That was all ahead of him though. He'd met with the Minister, the head of the DMLE, Stevens, and the current but likely soon to be dismissed Head of the Board of Governors just last night. After much debate, they decided that the full investigation of the castle would commence after all the students and staff had left for the summer.

For the time being, a squad of Aurors were stationed at the school and patrolled the lower levels and the second floor.

If nothing else, his summer wouldn't be boring.

Coming to himself, he realized that he was standing still outside the Hospital wing. Focusing on the moment, he opened the door and entered.

Sunlight was streaming in through the many windows, bathing the room in bright and warm morning light. His eyes landed on the bed occupied by Professor Lockhart. The man's head swiveled to the door as soon as he'd entered, a bright smile upon his face.

"Oh...Good morning to you." he excitedly exclaimed. "I just had the most wonderful breakfast, brought to me by the strangest looking fellow I've ever seen. Very short, with long ears, and huge eyes! Never seen someone so strange. Oh, but he was ever so pleasant. Even got me an extra helping of bacon, what a fine fellow!"

"Yes, Gilderoy that was a House elf. Wonderful creatures," Albus responded. "I hope you are feeling well today."

"Of course, of course. House elf, why I should have known, not that I could have known mind you. But I should have guessed. Oh, but everything is so strange. Why just last night I could have sworn I saw the nurse floating a tray of bandages right across the room. How strange, not the bandages of course. Though I suppose…"

The man continued to drone on and on in a surprisingly upbeat tone. The brief explanation provided from young Ronald before he departed with his family shed a great deal of light on Gilderoy's situation, not that it made treating him any easier.

Memory Manipulation is not a branch of magic that should be used without proper training, and even then, only under safe and controlled circumstances. Getting inadvertently struck by the backlash of a broken wand, … well it was a miracle that his brain wasn't completely destroyed. As it was it could take years before the healers would be able to repair some of the damage and restore a portion of his memories. It was very unlikely that everything would be fixed though.

Lockhart was due to transfer to St. Mungo's today, where he'd likely spend most of the rest of his life.

"Thank you Gilderoy, but I must check on the other patient."

"Oh…of course, good chap. I'll leave you to it." The man gave a jaunty wave before turning his attention to a stack of magazines, one of which even had his own face smiling up at him. It was an odd moment, considering that at this point the man could not even read, but he seemed happy nonetheless.

Turning from his former Defense Professor, Albus shifted his gaze to the only other occupied bed. There Harry lay sleeping, just as he had yesterday and the day before. Even without Pomfrey's daily reports he could see the boy looked better. Much of the bruising was gone or barely visible, his chest rose and fell gently, and his breathing seemed far easier than before. His body was no longer wracked with the occasional twitches brought on by his exposure to the Cruciatus curse.

He gazed at the boy for a long moment before heading to Pomfrey's office. Gently knocking on the door he patiently waited until she called before entering.

The nurse was sitting at her desk, a letter barring the seal of St. Mungo's in her fingers.

"Headmaster, good morning," she said by way of greeting before shifting her eyes back to the parchment once more. After a few more moments examining the letter, she folded it up and looked back at Albus.

"The transfer team from St. Mungo's will be here after lunch to collect Professor Lockhart. Healer Bluntworth has been assigned to his assessment and care. I've already shared my findings with her. She has a well-earned reputation for spell reversal, and has even handled a few cases of memory charm damage."

"However, I doubt that they will make much progress in this case. The damage is extensive Albus. He's at the start of an extremely long road." She sighed and stared off at the ceiling for a moment before continuing. "Truthfully, it'd be easier to just start him over rather than try and reconstruct those old memories."

Albus sighed, he'd expected this of course. While he may not have liked the man, seeing him lose everything was unpleasant. Still, he was alive and otherwise healthy. His magic was still strong so he'd have a nice long life to learn and recover from this moment.

"Thank you. I'll be available when they arrive to see him off." He didn't really want to, but it was expected of him.

A moment of silence hung between them.

"And Harry?" Albus questioned.

"Nothing new to report I'm afraid. His body is almost fully healed from his physical injuries, and his core appears to be nearly replenished," she reported. "Truthfully, it replenished rather quickly in my estimation, I thought it would have taken a few more days."

"That's a good sign then," Albus started. "It just proves he's on the mend…"

"NO, it does not prove anything Albus!"

…

Albus was taken aback. Her tone, far from her usual clinical style of delivery, was sharp and direct. "All it shows is that his magic is replenishing. He hasn't woken up! This is no longer a case of physical and magical exhaustion. He's in a coma Albus!"

The word hung in the air between the two of them for several long moments.

"I'm sorry Albus…. It has been a long few days."

The sudden tension eased with this, and Albus allowed himself a brief soft smile. "Too true old friend, too true. I'd ask you what can be done, but I suspect that you would already have tried it regardless."

She returned his smile, though it looked more pained than anything. "Yes, everything I've tried to wake him has failed. It's a wait and see game at this point".

"I understand." Glancing at the clock he turned to the door once more. "I'm going to return to my office. I'll stop by again after lunch with the team from St. Mungo's. It may be best to pull Harry's curtains, no need to create an incident."

Pomfrey nodded her head absently. She was already reaching for another reference book, no doubt trying to find something else to try to wake the young man.

Entering the ward once more, he gazed at Harry for several long moments before leaving. While he could have easily spent all day sitting there, he had several important tasks to complete today.

He swiftly made his way through the castle towards Professor McGonagalls office. It was time to talk to the newly awakened Miss Granger.

….

He was sitting at a tiny desk surrounded by books and parchment. The library was quiet at this time of the morning. Bright sunlight shone through the large windows behind him casting everything with a gentle golden glow.

Most of the students were outside enjoying the warmth of the sun and cool gentle breeze, while he had ensconced himself in the library. He enjoyed the solitude and the quiet that being in the Library brought him. His first year at Hogwarts was drawing to a close. Exams had ended the day before, and in two more days they'd be boarding the train heading back to London.

Of course, he didn't want to leave the school and return to the orphanage, but he didn't have any other options at this point. Headmaster Dippet denied his request to remain at the school over the summer, citing his age and the lack of supervision. So here he was, studying as much as he could before returning to that awful place.

…

The hour was very late, the sun had long since set. Albus knew that he should get some rest, but could not bring himself to move. He'd been in the same spot since returning after his final visit to check on Harry after dinner. The boy was now the only resident of the ward. With Lockhart's transfer to the hospital yesterday, and the student's departure this morning, there was nothing else to distract the aged headmaster from his worry.

Once the students were loaded onto the train, and bound for home Albus had returned to the hospital wing and waited. There was little else to do. The staff were all occupied with end of year grading, resetting their classrooms, supervising the cleaning of the dormitories, or packing to head home themselves. Even without the students present the castle was bustling with activity, all except for the hospital wing where Albus and Poppy maintained their vigil.

He would still be there himself, had he not been forced to go eat by the nurse. He thought back to the dinner, likely the last meal in the great hall until just before the next school year. Usually an easygoing and enjoyable affair, it was notably subdued. All the teachers knew the basic story of course. He'd made some speech to them, trying to rally everyone's spirits, but truthfully even he couldn't do it.

Once the meal was over he returned to the hospital wing. There he found the matron standing still at the foot of Harry's bed. Her face was drawn, and seemingly fixed in place. He stepped up beside her and locked his gaze on the young man. There was no need for words this time, no questions, or reassurance. Harry's recovery was his own now, they could but wait, standing in silent vigil.

He'd remained there for some time before Poppy moved away and began preparing his next round of potions. Albus waited until she was done before taking his leave. He made his way slowly to his office and sat not at his desk, but by a chair next to a window. One that he rarely sat in, usually preferring his desk or the comfortable chair by the hearth. Places that he could work or converse, seats that allowed him a commanding view of the room, positions that projected authority.

Now though he sat in the corner starring out the window.

Just yesterday he sat in his nice cushy chair by the fire when Miss Granger came in. As timid as she was, her worry for her friend won out and she could barely speak in her rush to ask all of her questions at once. They spoke for a long time, he answering as much as he was able, she always with a new question or more often several.

He kept some of the details of Harry's condition a secret, at least for the moment. Truthfully, they still didn't know how bad the damage would be until he woke up. It was only after he promised that she'd be allowed to visit him this summer once he recovered more, did some of her panic subside.

Of course, that led Albus into another quandary. What to do about the Dursleys. Minerva had gone to inform them personally of the incident and returned incensed. Apparently, their only comment on the entire ordeal was to complain that picking him up from Kings Cross later in the summer may interfere with their own holiday plans.

Albus had suspected that they were unfeeling towards their nephew, but he never expected such callousness. They were family after all, but apparently to Petunia that was not enough. He'd already made the decision that Harry wouldn't be returning there this summer at all. After all he was likely going to need most of that time to recover under a healers guidance. He'd have to investigate more to see if Harry should return there at a later date or not. After what Harry had just endured, Albus wasn't about to add more pain and suffering on top by forcing him to return.

If he was honest with himself, he should have checked in on Harry sooner. He'd personally placed him with the Dursley's all those years ago, and afterwards never once visited. True, he had his reasons for keeping his distance. Very good ones in fact. Now, however…. now he wasn't sure anymore.

He let out a long sigh as he gazed out into the night. The moon, hidden behind some heavy clouds, cast very little light upon the grounds and forests. A storm seemed likely.

Turning his gaze down to the grounds his eyes focused on Hagrid's cabin, light once more streaming from its windows and smoke lazily drifting up from the chimney. He'd been able to arrange for the man's release shortly after Steven's initial report, and had personally accompanied the team sent to release him, the only time he'd left the castle since returning. The large groundskeeper was shaken and distressed, a condition made worse once he learned about the events of that night, but under Madam Pomfrey's care was recovering nicely.

Catching some movement across the darkened lawn, he saw a few Aurors patrolling the grounds. The team, again led by Stevens, had arrived almost as soon as the train departed Hogsmead station. This time though it wasn't just a crisis response team, but a full investigatory squad.

More than twice the size of the previous team, they began discreetly flooing into the Hogshead with all of their equipment in tow. He now owed Aberforth a favor for the use of his floo, and for closing his bar for the afternoon, but the discretion was worth it.

The team had taken up residence in a series of rooms on the main floor, not far from the Great Hall. The team would begin canvassing the castle tomorrow. Normally, Albus would baulk at such Ministry interference, but every time he began to get worked up about it the sobering image of Harry, broken and bruised lying on a hospital bed flashed before his eyes.

The Ministry could be annoying at best most of the times, and he would normally fight to keep them out of Hogwarts, but this incident was the greatest reminder that Albus was not all knowing. He was there 50 years ago when Tom had orchestrated the attacks on his fellow students. He was there the night Hagrid was blamed. He instinctively knew that Hagrid was innocent, but lacked any real evidence. He did what he could to shield the boy, aiding him throughout his life.

Tom however…He just could not reach Tom Riddle. The boy was lost to him, he'd travelled too far down a path that Albus refused to follow.

After Myrtle's death, the attacks stopped altogether. Albus had somehow convinced himself that the danger had fully passed. While he believed that Tom was behind the attacks, he also believed that he was receiving help from someone. When things had returned to normal the next year and coupled with Tom laying low and focusing on his studies, he'd mistakenly believed that the true perpetrator had moved on. And so did he, he allowed himself to be distracted by other events believing that the danger was past.

50 years passed, 50 years. All that time, he'd done nothing about it. Never once did he question Myrtle about her death. He didn't search the castle, didn't test the wards. In that time he could have personally scoured the entire castle, cataloguing every stone and beam along the way for good measure.

Now though, now he had proof that he was right, and he was wrong. So wrong.

Tom did have help, but not from someone, but rather something. Albus was never a fount of knowledge when it came to Magical Creatures, not more than a handful that is. He was quite knowledgeable about Phoenix's at least. He'd heard of Basilisks before of course, but everything he'd ever read about them ended with the fact that they were now extinct. Tom could certainly have continued attacking his fellow students, but didn't. He'd nearly been caught and with Hagrid taking the fall he'd moved on.

And while Tom would go on to achieve many great and terrible things, deep down below the castle's very foundations a monster continued to sleep.

Albus was still working on how after so long the creature was awakened and directed to attack anew. He had a theory, one that frightened him nearly as much as a thousand-year-old basilisk, but he needed more time to research.

So as much as he wanted to keep the Ministry far from Hogwarts halls, he could not allow a repeat of such terrible events. He consoled himself with the fact that with Stevens in charge, he could still monitor the investigation, maybe even nudge them here or there. But in the end, there was the very real chance that they could stumble upon some other unknown danger lurking in the dungeon depths.

He'd only met with Stevens briefly when they first arrived at the castle. They agreed to sit and talk in the morning, to lay out the plan for searching the castle. They would also likely come up with a plan to keep the chamber as much of a secret as possible and to keep Harry's presence and condition quiet.

The first would be difficult, the second nearly impossible. Some of the members of the team had students currently attending Hogwarts. It was likely that before the week was out news will have spread far and wide, and by next Monday there'd be reporters and Ministry Officials at the door.

Stifling a yawn, Albus decided that he should get some sleep. The morning would come quickly.

He spared one more glance at the sky. Rolling clouds had appeared, and the wind had begun to pick up.

Yes, a storm was indeed coming.