Omnipotent: Thanks, I'll decline to comment on that, as it is, in fact, a future plot point. But I'll say that he is meant to be unhinged. That's a plot point for another time. He's off doing stuff that only he understands right now.

Harry lay in bed before anyone else had awoken in his dormitory room. He lay there in the dark and recalled the school year so far—one month. It had already been one whole month since the start of school, and it was a very different month when compared to his first year's first month of school. He knew where everything was, for one thing. For another, he was enjoying his classes much more this year. The Gryffindors were paired in double periods with the badgers of Hufflepuff this year instead of Slytherin, but apart from that, the classes were much more enjoyable this year, apart from the rather rocky start of Lockhart's first class, where the puffed-up fool let Cornish pixies loose on the second years. After Hermione and Harry had cleaned up the pixies using the Levitation Charm and the Full Body Bind in tandem, Headmistress McGonagall came and gave Lockhart a full dressing-down—behind a closed door, of course, not that it did much to muffle the yelling, or the breaking, or the threats. But after that, and after a full week of McGonagall sitting in his classes, the Defense Against the Dark Arts classes were very good and informative. Lockhart had stretched the tales from his books into informative lectures, but it was well done, Harry felt.

Transfiguration had been up to par with McGonagall's standards. Of course, Molly Weasley had training and help from the headmistress herself in designing her lesson plan. Professor Weasley was as strict a disciplinarian as Professor McGonagall had been and tolerated no misbehaving in her class. She had already sent a shame-faced Seamus Finnigan not only out of class but back to the first-year course so "she could teach him how to wave his wand again." He had set fire to her and Neville's hair.

The biggest change, though, was, of course, the history of magic professor, William Chambers, or Professor William, as the young man insisted he be called. He was a young and wild man. Apart from his love of history, he was an avid duelist and had won several dueling championships both in school and while attaining his mastery. He spoke with a thick accent, what he called a Texan drawl, but he was extra sure to enunciate his words so no one had trouble understanding him. His first class was very interesting. He just wanted to get to know his students and had no work for them.

"Howdy, folks. My name is Professor William Chambers, but please, for all that's holy, call me Mister William or, if you must, Professor William. Now, I don't know much about British schooling, but in America, we like to get to know our students, so to that end, we're going to have a little chat today. I don't like my classrooms all stuffy—it's hard to breathe—so we're going to relax, alright? I'll get to know y'all, and y'all will get to know me. Fair?" After taking in their silent nods, the new teacher restarted.

"Well, then, isn't that fine? My name is William Chambers. I graduated five years ago, which makes me twenty-two; that's why I seem so young. I went to Ilvermorny, the finest school of magic in the States. There are about ten of them, but Ilvermorny is the biggest. My passion for history is only outdone by my love of a good fight, which is why I'm a dueling champion in the American circuits. I specialize in Charms and Transfiguration and have a dual mastery in both. My favorite point in history, as most men can attest, is Roman times. There's just something manly about men wearing battle skirts." And he points to a full set of Roman legionnaire armor that Harry knew he had seen somewhere around the school before. After that, he had all the students stand up and introduce themselves, and it went fine until it was Harry's turn.

"Mr. Potter, haven't we all heard of you before? So why don't you tell us something we haven't heard of yet?"

"errrrrrrrrr. ok, well, you know my name already im Harry Potter, something most people and that i want to get a mastery in tranfiguration and be an animagus like Professor McGonagall"

"An Animagus, huh? That's a lofty goal, my friend. Best of luck. I hope it's better than my form," said the professor.

"You're an Animagus!" replied most of the class.

"Of course. I can't go claiming to be something I'm not." And he transformed right there into a large, tan, hairy armadillo and back again.

"See, I love armadillos as much as the next Texan, but I sure don't want to be one."

After that, the classes went on. Potions was its regular self, but when several students once again set complaints against Snape, it didn't take long for her to assign him his own probationary auditor. Apparently, the first potions class was halted until the school procured the necessary safety and sanitation equipment all potions labs need.

After that, classes began to go together: classwork, "homework," essays, research projects, and tests—until Harry woke up on October the fifth and realized that he had already been back at Hogwarts for one whole month.

It's always hard to believe how fast time creeps by.

Today should be rather fun; it was the first meeting of the new Hogwarts lower-year dueling club. Lockhart and Professor Chambers ("Harry and Hermione refused to call the man by his first name") had set up a few separate dueling clubs: second and third years had one, fourth and fifth and sixth had one, and seventh years had their own. So, hours later, after classes, after Lockhart had set another of his weekly research assignments ("I want a two-foot essay on how to properly deal with each of the three species of ghoul. To be turned in next Monday."), and Professor Weasley's essay on the processes for transfiguring wood into metal, and after Snape glared at them while trying to do an almost passable impression of an actual teacher, Hermione, Smara, and Harry had gathered with the rest of the lower-year students who had wanted to participate. He saw Daphne, surprisingly, and, unsurprisingly, Seamus Finnegan, but also all of the Slytherin boys and most of the year, both male and female, from Hufflepuff, had shown up. The rest of the crowd was made up of third years from the various houses.

Professors Lockhart and Chambers were now standing on a raised dueling platform decorated with a lunar cycle. Shortly after the six o'clock start time, Lockhart began to address the crowd.

"Hello, good evening. Can everyone hear me? Can you all see me? Excellent, most excellent. I would like to welcome you to this first meeting of the second- and third-year-level Hogwarts Dueling Club. William here and I were chatting not long ago and were both saying how sad we were that there was no dueling at Hogwarts. So I took it upon myself to negotiate with our fair headmistress to arrange this little club, to give all my willing students a bit of hands-on experience if you ever have to defend yourself in a magical situation as I have done countless times. For full details, see my published works." Lockhart started the speech.

"That's right, young ones. With you all being on the newer side, we're holding this group a bit differently than the upper years. Professor Lockhart and I will start this group by teaching the proper forms and techniques of professional dueling before we let you all loose on each other. If you have experience with form or dueling and don't want to sit through the basics, all you have to do is sit through this class and demonstrate that you know what you're doing, and then join us again in eight weeks when we start practical duels. So let's get to it." Professor Chambers took over and finished for Lockhart.

For the next hour, the students learned the forms, niceties, and poses of dueling. Most of the pureblood crowd that had been acting superior to the rest of them were dressed down and told that they had been taught incorrectly. If they were in a duel, they would be disqualified for putting themselves, their opponent, or the crowd in danger. Malfoy, who had been bragging about his dueling instruction, was corrected the most by Professor Chambers.

"Son, I don't know whom your father hired to teach you to duel, but either they didn't know their wand from a tree, or you paid less attention to their lessons than a dragon would to a robin."

A pink-faced Malfoy was corrected on his stance, his grip, and his spacing. Harry found it hilarious as he allowed Lockhart to correct his stance and grip and tried to soak in as much information before they were led in group-form training, cycling through combative and defensive stances with fake wands (to prevent mishaps).

During dinner, all who attended except Malfoy agreed that it would be a fun time, and many looked forward to next week's meeting. Even Smara was impressed, as she did not have a high opinion of Lockhart, neither did Harry, really, but the man seemed to know about dueling, at least in the academic sense of what goes where. More than two weeks had passed since that first dueling club meeting when Smara woke Harry up late, or rather early, Saturday morning.

"Little one, wake up! There's something wrong. Awaken, you drowsy snack!" blared Smara, trying to wake Harry up.

mmm'wha's up." Harry said yawning.

"I can smell him, Harry. I can smell the broken one. He is here, and he is close. I thought I had smelled him for a while now, but it was faint. The scent grows in strength and vitality more and more!"

Harry knew what that meant: Voldemort was back inside the school somehow. "How could he be here, and how does he smell? He's less than a ghost; he shouldn't have a scent."

"I do not know, young one. My former captor had many magical skills beyond those of the common man. What is important now is that the headmistress be informed that if the riddle is back in school, then he will be using my father's reliquary to hide in. There are many powerful items hidden there, but the most dangerous one has already been removed."

"And what item would that be, Smara?"

"-Me."

Harry crawled out of bed. The hint of light outside Harry's window and the distant sound of birds told Harry that curfew had been lifted, so he gathered up Smara and helped her to wrap herself around his shoulders. He had made it down to the common room and was about to climb through the portrait hole when Sir Nicholas, the nearly headless ghost of Gryffindor Tower, glided through the door.

"Ah! Mr. Potter! Just the lad I was sent to find. Excellent! But I'm afraid I must insist you stay here."

"But Nick, I can't. I have something very important to tell the headmaster—" but Harry was cut off by the ghost.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, but that is impossible. I shall tell her of your wish to speak to her. I'm sure she will accommodate you with haste, but it is not safe for your frightening familiar to be out in the corridors at the moment," Sir Nicholas said in his pompous voice.

"But why?" Harry asked, exasperated.

"It seems that a student has broken into the chicken coops and spread all of Hagrid's roosters across the school. I'm unaware of how much you know about basilisks, but..."

"The crowing of the rooster is fatal to them! Thanks, Nick!"

"It is not a problem, young Mr. Potter. Argus Filch has already taken the one that was placed in front of the Gryffindor portrait hole. I shall go and inform the headmistress of your wishes, Harry, but you should go back to your dormitory to wait for her," said Nick, and Harry did just that.

It was three hours later that Professor McGonagall strode into the Gryffindor boys' dormitory to find Hermione and Harry sitting close together, comparing notes from a book on Harry's bed. While there, she had the fortune of witnessing what was most likely the strangest sight she had ever seen: Neville Longbottom, Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, and the Weasley twins standing around, watching enraptured as Ron Weasley played wizard's chess with a 1,000-year-old deadly basilisk. And if her eyes weren't deceiving her, then Ron was losing.

"Mr. Potter," started McGonagall, causing almost every student to jump. Ron, taking the opportunity, surreptitiously knocked half the board over (yes, he was losing) and then she smacked him with her tail before she slithered over and curled herself around Harry's bedpost. "Sir Nicholas has informed me that you had something urgent to tell me this morning. I apologize; I was busy helping to track down the roosters. The school is now safe for your familiar once again."

"Thank you, Professor. That's good to hear. Yes, I wanted to talk to you. Well, actually, Smara wanted to speak to you, but that's a bit of the same thing, really. You see, she woke me up this morning and told me she could sense and smell someone who had no business being in this school. She could smell Voldemort and sense his presence, ma'am. She says that it gets stronger and fades away as if what he's using to come here pops in and out of existence. She also said that you'll need to organize an expedition to some hidden chamber she called the Reliquary, where Salazar Slytherin hid her and a few other dangerous things away. She said that that place is the most likely area for him to hide if he is truly here," quickly explained Harry, not wanting to be interrupted. "She also said I'd need to go with the group as I'm the only known Parselmouth in the school, and you'll need to seek several times."

"That, that is deeply disturbing, Mr. Potter. Thank you for bringing this to my attention, and I will tell you this now in response to what you just told me. I will be locking down the school as soon as I leave here and get to my office. The whole school will be searched by the DMLE and every Curse-Breaker I can recruit."

"So, you believe me?" asked Harry.

"Of course, Mr. Potter. And had I not, I would still lock down and search the school on the off chance that you were right. I do, after all, learn from my mistakes," the old professor said, slipping slightly into a Scottish brogue. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I will contact you, Mr. Potter, when I am prepared to move forward, but I will attempt to find an adult Parselmouth to accompany the search party when the time comes. However, it is an exceedingly rare skill, so if I can't find anyone, then we will need your assistance. Good day. The house elves will bring lunch at twelve."

The lockdown was not a simple, few-hour thing like they had assumed it would be. The castle was searched by the DMLE, curse breakers from Gringotts, the ghosts, and a band of private magical detection experts. Every single student was separated, interviewed, and scanned for dark objects and magic in the dorms and bathrooms. As the students were being led down to the Great Hall for a segregated lunch on the third day, Harry saw that they had cordoned off a whole section of the seventh floor. Many students were picked up for having traces of dark magic about them, including Ron's little sister, Ginny, but she was released, as were most other students. Apparently, according to what Ginny said she was told, some people just act like sponges for magic and, if exposed, will carry a trace around for a while. The girls' dorm had been picked apart, according to Hermione, as the scan was picking up strong dark magic that turned out to be a long-forgotten ritual circle covered by wooden panels. Harry and Ron both assumed that the Slytherin dorms were being cleansed with holy fire to cleanse all the dark magic.

All in all, the search was finally done after four days of lockdown, meaning that the whole school was gathered for a special morning announcement on Wednesday during breakfast.

"Good morning!" called Headmistress McGonagall.

"It is with great pleasure that I tell you the school-wide lockdown is over. The school has been searched and cleansed as much as possible. As you have no doubt noticed, some students were found to be in possession of dark objects and were suspended. The affected students will return after Halloween. The school will return to normal starting today, and I ask you to work hard to catch up on the lessons missed! Good day!" And she clicked her knife to her cup as food appeared before them. After breakfast, Harry was called to the headmistress's office, where, when he opened the large oak door, he found the office occupied by Headmistress McGonagall, a slightly paler-than-he-remembered Amelia Bones, Susan Bones (who got up as he entered the room and left), and several people Harry assumed were Ministry officials.

"Please come in, Mr. Potter. Is Smara with you?"

"Always," Harry said as the serpent in question stuck its head out of the neck of his robes.

"Most excellent. Well, then, we'll start, Harry. You know Amelia Bones. The men behind her are Head Auror Alastor Moody, Senior Auror Scabior, and three representatives from the Minister's office: Miss Bulstrode, Mr. Harding, and Mr. Belby. They are here in various capacities but mainly to hear Samira's answers to their questions."

"And those would be what?"

"What is the reliquary?"

Then, Harry begins translating directly for Smara.

"A chamber beneath the school, built by my father before he left the school."

"Who is your father?"

"My father was Salazar Slytherin."

"Is this reliquary the Chamber of Secrets?"

"If that is the name you have assigned it, then I am sure it is human."

"Where did you sense He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"

"Here and there, but very close that day, my old master always had a twisted scent. Even in my distressed and fractured mind, I could pick up his scent—never another like it or with it—until a few days ago."

"Was it in Gryffindor Tower?"

"It is hard to say." I taste many things. It is impossible to pinpoint faint smells, like they surround you.

"Have you smelled it since then? We are not doubting you, Serpent, but we searched this school top to bottom and found no sign of Voldemort—plenty of other nasty stuff, mind you, but nothing in relation to him," broached Alastor Moody, cutting off Amelia Bones and earning a glare from the woman.

"You smell of dark magic, fear, and something familiar that I can't place. Human, it is foul, but no, not since that day have I smelled the Pale One."

"Could you have been mistaken, great queen, about the presence of the Dark Lord?" supplied the man named Bulstrode.

She rose, growing in height and hissing, "Mistaken! You accuse me of not knowing my own senses!" She snapped her jaws at the man, who in turn fell backward in fear.

"Settle down. We only mean to make sure," the Auror "Mad-Eye" was staring into the eyes of Smara—something even Harry had trouble doing. The grizzled and scarred Auror unsettled Harry, but he could admit he admired the old man's resolve.

"No, I was not mistaken, wretchling."

"Well, it seems he knows you have changed allegiances the same night you caught his scent. Roosters are placed all over the school."

That's when Mr. Harding said, "The Minister has decided that when the school is empty during Christmas, you and your snake will lead a team of Ministry Unspeakables into this reliquary, where we will collect the artifacts left there for study."

And with that, Harry left as the adults began talking in hushed tones. Despite a new air of paranoia, time began marching onward again. The group of second years made good progress in all their lessons, but Harry had noticed a vast improvement over his first year. It was likely due to being free from the influence of the spells and potions, but also Hermione's nagging about him studying and practicing more. Harry was one of the busiest second years between his homework, separate study time, the dueling club, and Quidditch practice three times a week. Harry didn't have much time to lie about or worry about any phantoms coming after him. And Harry carried on with this schedule until early on Halloween morning when Smara woke him and brought him back to a very familiar bathroom. After frightening away a moping ghost girl, she opened a sink and carried Harry down a long and slippery tunnel to a point that had to have been miles under the school, coming to rest in front of a door adorned with snakes. He stepped onto the filthy ground as Smara spoke.

" This is it, little one—the door to the reliquary.

Harry stood there for a minute, studying the metallic snakes on the door, enameled green with emerald eyes. He once again heard Smara speak in a sibilant whisper.

"Open!"

A/N: hey everyone I apologize you'll have to bare with me as a make an entire years plotline from scratch. I thought about hatching another basilisk using that spell I mentioned in a previous chapter buuuuuut I thought that might he a bit if a cop out so I'm working it from scratch hopefully it will he suspenseful amd entertaining as the original.