The next morning, Harry was the first to wake up. He groaned, rolling over on his side, finding Neville drooling, lying on his back. He rubbed his eyes, reaching over the sleeping form of his friend to grab his glasses. Slipping them on, he adjusted to the soft darkness of the room, eyes zeroing in on the destroyed locket on the floor of their dorm.

Memories flooded his mind, taking over his senses as he thought of everything he had done. It had been a manic blur, the conversation with Dumbledore sending him into a delighted, dangerous ecstasy. He hadn't meant to actually destroy the locket, only tell his friends about it and their plan. They were going to do it together, with Dumbledore, safe and sound, away from the other students.

Instead, Harry had found himself racing down the hallways, mind filled with one thought. I am a horcrux. The thought whispered throughout his head filling his every sense. His hearing dimmed, his body itched, his eyes narrowed. He tried to whisper the words out loud and couldn't even get his voice to work.

His head turned quickly, hand gripped tightly around the locket as his eyes looked over Ron's trunk.

I am a horcrux.

Gingerly, Harry climbed out of the bed, stepping over a sleeping Neville as he tiptoed his way to his own trunk, grabbing his invisibility cloak. He made his way to Ron's chest next, hands sliding over it, feeling the familiar ridges and bumps and- runes. Damnit. Ron had warded his trunk. Harry was a lot of things, being good at runes was not one of them.

I am a horcrux.

With a glare at his friend, Harry slipped the locket over his head and quietly moved out of the dorm room. Fine, if Ron was going to lock up his tooth, he'd go and get another himself. Besides, it was better than waking his roommates if he happened to yell.

I am a horcrux.

The halls of Hogwarts were dark, the rising sun not yet meeting her large windows and filling the hallways with delightful rays. It gave Harry ample time to sneak around, ducking by alcoves and windows, hiding from paintings and rats alike.

I am a horcrux.

Quietly, Harry slipped into the second floor girls bathroom, making his way to the sink. He heard Myrtle, the bathroom ghost, murmuring behind him, even touching his shoulder, but he paid her no mind. He had more important things to do.

I am a horcrux.

The hissed words fell from his throat, so deep and present it would raise the hair on anyone's arms. It sounded so much like him, yet like someone else at the same time. He liked it, even though it reminded him of the Dark Lord.

I am Voldemort's horcrux.

Harry slipped down the slide, landing in the cleared up hallway. He and Dumbledore had made sure to fix it up, transfiguring the rubble and slick into a nice, cleaner room. A sign of respect to Hogwarts. Harry was glad they had done it, it made slipping through its grey walls much easier.

I am Voldemort's horcrux.

Yes, he knew that already. The words floundered up through his skull, down his spine, and into his very heart. He hated it, yet it was a constant reminder of what he truly was. Once he was rid of this damn horcrux, he'd finally be Harry. Just Harry. Harry waved his wand, severing off a tooth of the great carcass in front of him. They had promised to leave its contents alone for Severus to come and look at, and it was clear the man hadn't done so yet. It remained perfect in all but its death. The scales were a smooth, sleek brown, each scale looking like it was hand placed on the beasts. Shades of all colour wrapped around it, rich chocolate meeting deep grey's, turning to iridescent blues by the creature's nose. Harry allowed his hand to run over it, no longer under Dumbledore's eyes. It was warm to the touch, with a soft, almost silky texture. Four years dead, and the creature still felt so alive. Although Harry knew the beast was alive, no matter what his mind tried to tell him.

He grabbed the large bottom tooth,staring at the yellow-white mass with keen observation and delight. Finally, he was so close. Harry closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he allowed his magic to work, letting his soul guide him. He needed a phoenix.

He heard rustling somewhere in the cave but paid it no mind. He had a goal he needed to accomplish. His wand began to glow.

A delicate, otherworldly creature emerged as the spell's white light faded. Harry opened his eyes, marvelling at his own illusion, his own creation! And Snape had said this was an evil skill! The phoenix trilled an off putting tune, making Harry's nape hairs stand on edge. Maybe not perfect, especially since it was the wrong colour, but it was perfect. He ran his hand over the fluff. The feathers had an almost lifelike quality, as though each one were a single feather from a bird in flight that had been frozen in time. The animal had the look of a magnificent phoenix, with brilliant white feathers flowing into greyish-green on its wings and tail. It wrapped around Harry, playful. With every motion, its body appeared to shimmer like a desert mirage, shifting in colour and tone. Harry stuck out his arm, allowing it to settle there. It's claws stabbed in deep, making the teen wince, but he ignored it. The phoenix's eyes had a rich, mysterious green colour, as though they were filled with all the secrets in the cosmos. It appeared to know more than anyone could possibly know; it seemed to have the answers to all the questions concerning life and death, happiness and sadness, light and darkness.

They mirrored Harry's own, the pupils slightly wide in want.

"You know what to do, right?" Harry whispered to the bird, ignoring the pit-pat he heard. It must be raining outside. The bird nodded, trilling once again. Harry took a deep breath, and readied the fang at his scar. Just a little cut, then he'd be fine, it was going to be fine, right? This would work?

I am Voldemort's horcrux.

This had to work.

Harry's mind went blank, a silent scream leaving his lips parted in agony. His mind whirled, dragging him in a multitude of directions. Emotions and memories flashed through his mind, leaving him hopeless, angry, upset. Every negative thing he had ever felt filled him.

The white phoenix flew above him, singing its desolate song as illusionary tears fell from its eyes. Drops of soft white landed on Harry, having deemed it enough time for the poison to work through his horcrux addled soul. Instead, Harry twitched below him, shaking, scar smoking as the basilisk venom made ruin of his body. The white creature of grace sang, the same empty tune he had tried, letting more tears fall onto Harry's face.

Except it wasn't tears that dripped into Harry's body, but his own magic. The phoenix was essentially useless.

"Myrtle! We don't have time for this, bugger off-" Ron said as the girl repeatedly flew through their bodies, leaving them cold.

"It's Harry! He's gone into the chamber!"

"We know, Myrtle!" Neville said, legs pumping and face turning red as he ran. This damn fool, damn it all to hell! How could he be so stupid! To run off on his own like this? He was going to- Harry was going to kill himself doing this!

Why had Neville ever deemed this a good idea?

"If you want to help, Myrtle." Ron panted as they arrived in the bathroom, rushing to the closed sink. "Go get a teacher!" The ghost girl nodded sharply, flying through one of the toilets. Ron cursed, kicking the sink.

"Let's hiss at it!" Neville said, pushing Ron out of the way as he hissed at it. It took a few minutes, and every second that passed, Neville and Ron grew more irate, more worried, their magic sparking and lashing out without the use of any spells. Finally, with one low and forceful hiss, the sink began expanding, opening and moving like the jaws of a snake. Feet pounded down the hall, and Ron slipped down. Neville wasn't fast enough to get away.

"Longbottom! Do not go down there!" Snape yelled, pulling the boy up by his button up, the first two buttons popping off at the sudden force. "You will wait for Dumbledore, or Merlin help me-"

Neville used his free hand, snapping off the sleeping shirt. He pulled his arm and wand free and rushed to the whole, jumping down it before the dower potions professor could stop him.

"Longbottom!" The man yelled, but wind pushed his voice back as Neville rushed down the pipe, small scratches lining his bare back. Ron was waiting, tapping his foot.

"Snapes here, let's go." Was all Neville said, both boys rushing down the endless escapade of hallways. Severus was quick to accompany, silencing his own steps as he followed the boys thumping feet.

The wretched ghost had appeared in Severus' bathroom that morning, head popping out of the toilet as Severus brushed his teeth. She had frightened him, Severus almost pulling out his wand and firing at the floating mass. Not that that would have done anything to her.

"Harry Potter has gone down to the chamber of secrets!" She shrieked, voice high and whiny, never changing from the voice she had died with sixty years ago. It grated on his ears, even as her words filled him with cool dread. "He seemed out of it! I couldn't get him to respond to me at all!"

Severus took in a deep breath of air, bolting from his rooms with newfound speed. Dumbeldore had shown them all where the entrance was three years ago, alerting them to listen to Myrtle (the new permanent guard) if she ever came to them about a student acting off.

Of course, the next time it happened it had to be Harrison bloody Potter.

Of course, it had to be his wayward son.

Snape arrived quickly, taking secret tunnels and portrait passageways he hadn't used since his Hogwarts days. He arrived quick enough to catch Longbottom, before the blasted boy had escaped from his clutch.

The ride was bumpy for Severus, nicking at his clothes. He hoped it had torn into Longbottoms back for even thinking of escaping him.

What had led Harry to go into this detestable place? Severus thought to himself. The halls were old, beaten with age, but they were clean, as if they had just been covered in Scourgify and other cleaning spells. Was that what the boy was doing? Cleaning? No, cease the thought! Precious Potter must hate cleaning, especially after all of the torture his relitives put him through. No, he must be down here doing something worse.

A bright hot phoenix flew above him, and with a quiet point-me, Severus followed, eventually running into Weasley and Longbottom. He ran past them, but Longbottom was smart, casting a point-me on Severus as well. The three ran, worry rolling off of them in waves as they tried their hardest to keep up with everything that was happening. Severus still had unanswered questions.

They turned a hall, and the bird disappeared, both sets of point-me's going off wildly. Three halls stood in front of them, all just as dark as the other. Severus turned to his two students, fuming.

"You will tell me what happened, or I will leave you here." He hissed. Ron bared his shoulders, looking like a bear protecting its cubs.

"We don't have to tell you anything." Ron spat. "Why did you even follow us? Everyone knows you hate Harry!"

"It's Harrison, Weasley, if you would use the boys proper name-"

"When pigs fly, Snape." Neville said, pulling out his wand. Ron followed suit, and Severus had to resist the urge to laugh. Two students against the Dark Lord's own illusionist? How bloody likely.

Suddenly, two loud melodies played, one heinous and vile, the other soft and inviting. They shared a look, all three running towards the sound. If this was where Harry was, that means Fawke's had found him!

As they ran down the hallway, eventually slowing as it grew more and more narrow, the three of them stepped into a large, almost empty cavern. It held a statue, a bloody fucking basilisk, two twirling phoenix's and… Harrison!

Snape ran towards his son, skin paling and heart beating wildly, each step memoring only half the speed of his pumping blood. He knelt down, ignoring the snake corpse, and began examining his son.

Atop of his scar was a wound, no bigger than a knut, but right in the middle of his forehead. Snape went to mutter healing spells, so many awaiting on his tongue, until he heard a loud gasp.

"He actually did it…" Neville said, staring at the fang in Harry's hand. "He actually-"

"Not the time, Nev!" Ron souted, pulling out his wand. "He needs to heal!"

Fawkes, and the horrid white phoenix, sang above them, letting tears fall onto his boy's face. Harry was sweating, body twitching. Snape moved his head up, sitting himself on his knees so his son's head could rest in his lap.

Was Harry trying to kill himself?

"Ron, what are you-" Neville hissed, stopping Ron's hand. Fresh blood poured out of Harry's calf, and Severus resisted the urge to snatch the wand from Weasley's hand. He had recognised the first two lines though, the beginning of a healing rune. Ron didn't stop, wand slicing thinly into Harry's calf. Severus looked up, eyeing Fawkes, who dropped one more tear on Harry's face before colliding with the white phoenix, sending a scattering symphony of sound and magic everywhere. One of Harry's illusions, and a tainted one at that.

Harry had already fallen down his path.

Severus was next to begin casting, wand waving over Harry's head. The young boy's heart was beating slowly, but it was beating. That's all they needed right now.

Harry slowly opened his eyes, light brown walls surrounding him. For a moment, his body tensed, grabbing at his forehead. He couldn't feel his scar! Had he- well then- where was he?

"I see you have awakened, Harrison Potter." Harry grimaced, the voice chuckling at something - likely his scrunched up taste. What had his parents been thinking with a name like that? Harry was a much better choice. "Just Harry then, I suppose."

"Who are you?" Harry said, turning around. A figure sat in a chair, a darker brown than the light brown walls that surrounded them. He waved his hand, and another seat appeared. He gestured at it, and Harry slowly took a seat.

"Let's talk," The man said. He had the appearance of a wealthy and refined gentleman, with an air of importance that seemed to fill the room. The man was dressed sharply, in rich, dark browns that shone in the light. His clothes were tailored to fit his lean, muscular frame, and the cuffs of his shirt were rolled up to reveal dark, tanned forearms. A gold pocket watch swung idly by his belt, untucked from its perfect little pocket, and two watches adorned his wrists, both with black leather bands and golden dials. His hair was dark brown, cut short and styled to immaculateness. His eyes were a deep, rich brown, with a sharp and intelligent gaze that seemed to be able to bore into Harry's very soul. He seemed confident, regal, dressed in his matching vest and pants, all another shade of brown. Harry felt poor just sitting in his presence, and tried to sit up straighter. The man smiled at him, eyes sparkling with secrets of the world within them. They were sharp, but not in the way that a disapproving parent would look at Harry, more like the way a scientist would look at a rat.

It unnerved Harry.

"Who are you?" Harry asked again. The man chuckled, deep in his chest as tan hands summoned two floating plates, one with cookies and the other with tea.

"My, I figured you would know me. You deal with me every day."

"Quit speaking in riddles." Harry demanded, ignoring the trays. The man sighed, standing up in a fluid wave of motion. He stuck his hand out, a cloak flying into it. It was familiar to Harry, all brown and tattered, and the man slipped it on over himself, crouching. He stuck out a - now skeletal - hand as he mumbled mindless words. Realisation dawned, and Harry instantly relaxed.

"Time! I didn't know you could look so…" He searched for a word, as Time threw the cloak on the floor, stepping over it with a sigh.

"Human?" The deity offered, sitting back down in his chair. "Yes, we usually don't when talking to humans, but I had to grab you out of my brother's realm a few minutes ago. Besides, I look much better as a person than a snivelling cloak." Time huffed.

"You mean- you had to grab me from Death's version of this?" Harry said, looking around. Time nodded, taking a sip of his tea.

"It's not often that our wards try to kill themselves." Time spoke lightly, judgement strategically plucked out of his tone. Harry froze.

"I wasn't trying to kill myself?" He said, crossing his arms. I was trying to get rid of the Horcrux!"

"Which would have killed you." Time said, taking another sip. "Before you get worked up, have a cookie. I baked them myself, you know." Harry grumbled but took one of the soft cookies, taking a bite of it. Magic filled his tongue, filtering out his senses and warping them into something new. His bones felt stronger, his body deeper rooted in his own magic. Like stretching a muscle that hadn't been used to its full ability. He was practically bursting out of his seams, body tight and loose.

Most of all, his chest felt full, something that he hadn't felt in a long time.

"Oops." Time deadpanned, making Harry's gaze turn to face him. "I seem to have given you the wrong type of cookies. Oh well."

"What-?" Harry asked, confused. That didn't- he just said he made them himself?

"Oops. Anyways, how have you been, Harry?" Harry stared, mouth gaping a bit.

"Wouldn't you know?" Harry asked. "Don't you deities watch us?" Time rolled his eyes, chewing on a chocolate cookie.

"Not all of the time, especially not my siblings. We have tasks to do, moving the earth along. Why, I still haven't decided what course I want the earth to take this year! Should it pull a centimetre to the left, or the right? Such choices."

"I- well alright. What am I doing here?" Time shrugged.

"Technically, you're in limbo."

"Limbo?" Harry tasted the word. "What's that?"

"Your body is alive but your soul is dead. Well, on your part, only part of your soul is dead. Limbo is where people who have their soul sucked out by Dementors come. It's not pretty, their bodies still being alive and all, with their souls so forcefully ripped out."

"So I'm like, what, a lost soul?"

"Precisely!" Time said, waving his teacup. "But, you've got people working on your body at the moment, so I'm sure you'll be ripped back there soon" He looked at his wrist. "Much sooner than I thought, actually. Your father is working on your body."

"Fat- Oh, you mean Snape." Time laughed quietly into his tea, hiding his grin.

"He cares for you- or, he will, I should say. Quite soon."

"When? On his deathbed?" Harry rolled his eyes. "As if, Snape wants nothing to do with me."

"Only time will tell," Said Time, taking one more sip of his drink before Harry groaned. "Harry, I'd like to tell you a story about a boy, Cadmus Peverell. You may know him."

"Don't recall." Harry said, pulling his feet into his chair. Time bristled a little, but began the story of his first, and only, worshipper.

"Cadmus Peverell was one of three brothers, much like you and your friends, only, they were actual siblings. Cadmus was my first, and my only actual worshipper."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, leaning forward a bit. "Did he like, summon you?"

"No, nothing so crass. Cadmus devoted his life to me, trying to enhance everyone's time, or shorten it, depending on my 'will'". He fell apart when Death claimed his lover, and using a stone Death had given him, had tried to bring her back from the dead."

"To give her more time." Time nodded.

"He was a good man, but one constantly overrun with power. Not the strongest of his brothers, or the weakest, as they were all equal in power, but he held the most drive, the most want."

"What happened after he used the stone?"

"He was sucked into it, forever erasing him from time. Death had thought it a funny prank, but Cadmus had already passed before we could get the poor man out of the stone." Harry shivered. "Not a pretty story. Unlike Death, I have taken on no other worshippers, until you, Harry." Before Harry could speak, he coughed, body pulling itself out of their world, leaving Time alone once more.

He stood up, stretching, and picked up his cloak from the floor.

He walked through a wall, his brother and sister waiting for him. Life, dressed in a glowing white dress, body tiny despite her being the eldest of them all. Death was there too, dressed like a warrior from top to bottom, black armour fitting him like it would a noble steed. Where Time was lithe, Death was muscular, where Life was short, Death was tall. Forever an opposite and a completion.

"So? What was it like?" Time shrugged.

"It was good, I suppose. Although I doubt I could do it again. The flow of time slowed down too much while I was gone."

"Maybe when they're all old and dead, we can talk to them." Death said, looking longingly at his knife. Time sighed, walking away. Time to get time back on track.