Harry's P.O.V

September, 3rd

Fleur had been right. Not keeping his temper in check had backfired greatly. It had taken weeks for the consequences of his attack on Lucius Malfoy to appear, but the result was no less scathing.

At breakfast that morning Hedwig had delivered a copy of the Daily Prophet, wizarding Britain's premier newspaper, and the article that had been written about the incident did not paint Harry in a good light.

The Boy-Who-Lived, Troubled or Traumatized?

By: Rita Skeeter

My dear readers, I am sure I need not remind you who the subject of this article is about! Because Harry Potter is a figure in the wizarding world known for his defeat of He-Who-Must-not-be-Named, but I come to you today with news that he may not be entirely mentally sound!

I know for many this news is both shocking and unbelievable, but not even two weeks ago did Mr. Potter meet one Lucius Malfoy, a man who was under the unwilling control of He-Who-Must-not-be-Named. During this meeting Mr. Malfoy was conversing with The Boy-Who-Lived and Mr. Potters acquaintance, Fleur Delacour the daughter of the French head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, threatened Mr. Malfoy.

Now, any normal person would have de-escalated the situation, but Mr. Potter thought it prudent to assault Mr. Malfoy! The spell he cast sent Mr. Malfoy flying out of Flourish and Blotts and down the steps to the street bellow.

Mr. Potter, not thinking his assault enough, followed after the older man and once he stood in front of him, what did the young wizard do? Did he help the man up? Did he apologize?

No, according to Mr. Malfoy he was threatened with bodily harm by Mr. Potter. Mr. Malfoy had this to say on the matter:

"I understand why Mr. Potter may be holding a grudge, when I came out of the control of the Imperius, I was just as appalled at what I had heard I was forced to do. Even now I am still struggling to move past those lost years, and I had hoped to clear the air with the young Potter. But it appears his scars still run deep, and I hope in the future he can receive the same help I have."

I must say, dear readers, that this statement from Mr. Malfoy brought me nearly to tears. Even in the face of Mr. Potter's assault, Mr. Malfoy wishes only the best for his assailant, and I for one hope Mr. Potter receives the best care to heal any lingering mental trauma.

Continued pg. 8

When Harry had had enough of the article, he threw the paper down where fleur and Terry could read it. The two of them had been just as upset as Harry himself, but their reaction was nothing compared to the student body's.

Every single Hufflepuff looked at Harry in fright, as if he were some giant monster that would bite their heads off at a moments notice. The Gryffindors stared at him a bit admiringly for putting Lucius Malfoy on his backside, but they also seemed to be taking his mental instability seriously. The Slytherins didn't seem anything but smug at Harry's new status as a pariah, and Draco Malfoy's leer of triumph only added to Harry's annoyance. The Ravenclaws were the largest mixed bag of reactions, a lot of them were impassive to the article, but a few gave him odd looks and a wide birth.

Worst of all was when Lockhart had come over to talk with him," really Harry! I understand your intentions. You thought if you could get on the front page with me that day, then doing something like this," he gestured at the newspaper," would get you the front page all on your own! And I must say, it was a marvelous plan! But really, you should allow these things to happen in their own time. No use speeding things along when you've already got a nice head start with all that business with He-Who-Must-not-be-Named."

The man had gone on in the same manner for ten minutes before he left. The entire time he had been casting not so subtle gazes at Fleur. Once he had left, Harry had extolled the merits of nonconsensual neutering; using Lockhart as a prime test subject.

Fleur didn't like him one bit either, not only because every single girl in the castle, save for the teachers, was infatuated with him, but also because the man kept gawking at her. Any time he crossed Fleur's path he would go wide eyed and open mouthed at her, and then he would try preening in her direction. As if he were some overgrown peacock.

If the man kept it up, Harry would quickly change his stance on killing people and feeling nothing about it. Well that wouldn't be entirely true, because Harry was sure he would feel quite satisfied over murdering the man.

Now Harry and Fleur were exiting the Great Hall heading toward Ravenclaw Tower.

"I don't like the way he looks at you," Harry scowled ahead as if Lockhart were right in front of them.

"I am more than capable of protecting myself, mon amour," Fleur pulled Harry aside into a shadowed crevice between the Great Hall and the Grand Staircase. She smiled fondly into his green eyes, cupping his cheek with her hand.

They stared at one another for long moments, and it struck Harry yet again just how beautiful she was. Her silken silver hair fell in cascades around her shoulders, her blue eyes pulled him in with their tenderness, and her lips, oh her lips, they curved red and full in a gentle smile.

"May I kiss you?"

Fleur's question caught him off guard," can you read my mind?"

Her gentle laugh made him smile goofily," no, but it is nice to know we think ze same things. Is zat a yes, by ze way?"

"Yes," harry whispered, his voice reverent and his heart thumping as she leaned down.

A stray lock of hair fell in front of her face and he brushed it behind her ear, their lips met; light and nervous. They quickly melted into one another and they embraced in a gentle sway that always put him at ease.

She was the one person who had accepted him, faults and all. She did not care how famous he was, what his past had been, or how damaged he had become. And for her unwavering acceptance, he loved her unconditionally.

Her fingers traced the line of his jaw, making him shiver lightly, and he allowed his own hand to caress the smooth expanse of skin that lined her delicate swan-like neck.

But no matter how much he loved her, that awful feeling always came back in these moments; fear, unbridled and irrational. So he pulled back, his heart thudding uncomfortably in a different way now.

"I-I'm sorry," he stuttered, steadying himself against the wall to his right.

Her eyes were slightly hazy from their kiss, but she shook her head to clear the fog," no, it is okay. I understand."

Harry gulped lightly, swallowing back his own self hatred and looked away," I wish you didn't have to. I wish I could just be like everyone else."

Fleur turned his face back to hers, she looked very upset by what he had said," if you were like everyone else, we would not be together, let alone friends. You would stare, drool, and be very boring; I much prefer you ze way you are."

Harry smiled weakly at her," thank you, I don't think I could've done everything I have without you."

"Nor I you, Mon Amour." Fleur leaned down slightly, but stopped a hairs breadth away from his lips, with a questioningly look of concern.

He nodded, for her he could endure the feeling for an eternity if it meant even a second's joy before it. She pressed her lips to his and oh, how happy her lips made him, the joy never diminished. It always felt like a million shattered Mirrors of Erised; quick, sharp, and powerful.

She pulled back tentatively and smiled warmly at him," perhaps we should make our way back to ze common room, I am sure Professor Flitwick will notice our absence."

Harry gazed at her just as dazed as she had been seconds ago," y-yeah we need to organize the planners I made for the Dueling Club anyway."

The common room was as lively as it could get in the house of the bookish. Students milled about, speaking quietly, as not to disturb those reading or working. Their head of house, Professor Flitwick, motioned Harry and Fleur over. Standing beside him was Gilderoy Lockhart.

'This idiot is everywhere!'

They could only sigh in dreadful agony as they joined the two men. Funnily enough Flitwick looked hardly happier than Harry or Fleur.

"Hello you two!" Flitwick squeaked," have you prepared the lesson plans for the Dueling Club this year? I told you it may be more useful to draw them up before the start of each year, so it wouldn't cause to much stress."

Harry nodded," yes, sir. I drew up the schedule myself."

As Harry was handing the schedule to the professor, Lockhart guffawed, snatching the parchment from him," leaving such an important task to a second-year, Professor Flitwick? Even if it is Mr. Potter, I believe Ms. Delacour or I myself would be much more up to the task!"

Flitwick frowned at him," Mr. Potter is very capable, Gilderoy. I can assure you his administrative skills, even in his first year, were superb."

"Thank you, sir," Harry inclined his head to the man gratefully.

"Be that as it may, I still believe as the new supervising teacher for the Dueling Club that I should—"

"Wait! What?" Fleur looked between the two professors incredulous," why are you not continuing as our supervisor, Professor Flitwick?"

Their head of house looked just as annoyed by the turn of events, after all he had been the one to re-establish the club.

"Yes, well Professor Lockhart thought it a good idea for himself to be the new supervisor, as he has more real world practical experience."

'If he has any experience in the real world I'm a Basilisk,' Harry stared annoyedly at the man.

"I was thinking it best we hold the Dueling club on the seventeenth of December so—"

"What!?" Harry cried out, interrupting Lockhart. He was even more annoyed with the man now," if you hold them that late, you might as well not even have the club!"

Lockhart's shining white teeth were on full display now," well Harry, I have Defense classes to teach and on top of that I have my fan mail to answer. I expect not to be done with it all before December at the earliest, so it stands to reason that without a teacher to supervise the club meetings can't be held."

"Zat is not true," Fleur crossed her arms over her chest. " 'Arry and I 'ave 'eld club meetings without Professor Flitwick before. In fact we 'eld more meetings without 'im zan with 'im."

Professor Flitwick nodded," that is true, and from the reviews of even upper years; they've been doing a superb job."

Lockhart seemed put out by the fact that all of them weren't agreeing with his every word, and he seemed especially put out by the fact one was a second-year and the other was a witch. It was clear he expected Fleur to be just as taken with him as everyone else, and now that he could see she wasn't, he had no idea what to do.

"W-Well if you think they can handle it Professor Flitwick, then I trust your judgment! I'll join you for Dueling Club meetings in and after December, so be sure everything's running shipshape before then you two!"

He handed Harry back the Dueling Club schedule and walked away, heading out of the Ravenclaw common room, no doubt to his office and quarters in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

Professor Flitwick turned to Harry and Fleur," I'm sorry about this, I know how difficult Gilderoy can be. I taught him when he attended Hogwarts and he's always been a bit big headed. That smile of his always seemed to get him his way, and being out of school it seems to have kept working."

"It's fine professor," Harry smiled at the man," we won't have to worry about him until December, so I think we can come up with a plan to deal with him then."

"Yes, I do not think 'e will be much of an issue," Fleur frowned thinking hard about something.

"Well, if anyone can work around an issue it is you two!"

Flitwick left them to retire to his chambers. Harry and Fleur sat at the couch by the fireplace, spreading the schedule Harry had drawn up onto the coffee table in front of them. It would be about a month before the club could resume as normal, because they would need to give time for new students to sign up.

And even then they would need to divide who would teach what where it came to dueling. Harry thought it best if he teach beginner to novice level students, while Fleur would teach intermediate to higher level students.

"Are you sure you can 'andle first-years, 'Arry? And don't forget, you will also most likely be teaching zose in your own year, and maybe one or two above."

"I think I can handle it. All your sadistic practices during the summer won't be for nothing," he could still feel where her stinging spells had hit, over and over again. Not to mention the lingering phantom pains of his burning legs every morning when she made him run laps around her manor.

"Yes, well I expect you to continue zose 'sadistic practices' even though we are running ze club again," Fleur grinned at him evilly.

"Why is everyone in my life a slave driver?!" Harry lamented.

Harry's P.O.V

September 7th

Harry was on his way to one of his nightly visits with Salazar, so that he could practice ritual magic as much as possible. Even Salazar himself had been impressed by Harry's progress in the subject, and he was sure Harry would be ready for the first ritual by the end of the month.

For Harry's part, he was more sure he got a majority of the runes and the sides they belonged on wrong, but apparently his mistakes were few and far between these days.

Harry opened Myrtle's bathroom, noticing something odd, there were watery footprints in the linoleum of the bathroom floor. The imprints were small and narrow. A girl or someone very young? He cast his gaze around, but found no one.

'Maybe just a first-year came in not knowing it's haunted.'

But, by the way the footprints had traveled, it seemed like the person had paced for a while in front of the sinks. Precisely where the chamber entrance lay.

Did someone know the chamber was here? But that was impossible, only two people knew where the Chamber of Secrets was and Harry was one of them. The other was Voldemort, but there was no way the man would be foolish enough to come back after his plans had been thwarted last year.

Would he? He could posses people, so it would explain the obvious footprints of someone young.

Harry shook his head,' no way! I'm just being paranoid.'

Harry stepped out of the bathroom, looking both ways down the corridors, and then he made his way back toward the Ravenclaw Tower. If someone was snooping around, it would be best to hold off on visiting Salazar for now. But as he did, a terrible voice filled his ears, malice dripping in the hateful whisper.

"Come… Come to me… Let me rip you… Let me tear you… Let me kill you!"

Harry's eyes fell open in abject horror at the voice. There was no mistaking its owner, and no mistaking what this meant. That was Rina, the basilisk that inhabited the Chamber of Secrets, and she was on the hunt. But for what?

She sounded so—

Harry shuddered.

She had sounded demented and hateful. Harry made his way to speak with Salazar.

Minutes later Harry was explaining exactly what he had heard, and Salazar looked none too pleased with the news.

"If she is hunting, then that can only mean one of two things. Either she has sensed a threat to the school large enough that she is required to destroy it, or…"

"Or what?" Harry asked, shifting worriedly from foot to foot.

"Or she has been ordered by a Parslemouth to hunt," Salazar looked very grim at the news, and he stroked the snake wrapped around his shoulders worriedly.

"But I'm the only Parslemouth in the school, and I know for a fact I haven't given her any orders!"

"Perhaps then, Tom has returned to the chamber to finish what he started decades ago," Salazar grimaced, his tone solemn and grave.

A chill ran up Harry's spine at that," what did he start?"

"The reason Rina hates Tom. He forced her to kill one of the students, a muggleborn girl." Salazar grimaced, his eyes turned down, and filled with sorrowful regret.

"H-He used Rina to kill people?"

"Yes, no serpent can resist the orders of a Parslemouth. Even a basilisk can only resist for so long, before they are forced to obey. She held out for months last time, but I fear her will may be weak to his orders now that he has broken her once."

Harry paced in front of the portrait, his hand balled in tight fists," what can I do? How can I help her? How did Voldemort get down here? What do I do? I've already got two crummy bits of that git's soul in me, what if he realizes?"

"Calm down! If you panic now, then you will only hinder yourself later. Firstly, you will need to monitor Rina with care. Do not make the mistake of blindly trusting her as you have thus far. If you do she may kill you, I have no doubt that Tom has realized someone has been here, and if he is as cunning as he ever was; then he will have ordered her to kill anyone other than him down here on sight."

Harry gulped," I'm really glad no one else knows about the chamber."

"Yes, it is odd, it is almost as if it is a secret chamber," Salazar gave Harry a look he hadn't in a while, it was his 'you are an imbecile' look.

Harry glared," hardy, har, har. I get it, but I found the stupid thing, and rather easily might I add."

Salazar mumbled darkly under his breath about "Uppity self-important brats" and "toad-brained sarcastic heirs" before he turned to glower at the object of his annoyance," I suggest you focus as much as possible on practicing your rituals, and avoid coming back down to the chamber until you are sure you can stop Tom. Rina will retreat in her nest when she is not hunting, and I am sure Tom has already given her an order to kill anyone snooping around the chamber."

"But… I need you, Salazar! I can't do this without you. I'm not some strong, and indomitable hero. I can't just best someone who is as strong as Dumbledore."

Now he had adopted a look Harry had only seen a handful of times, the air of haughty indifference around Salazar fell, and he gazed at the boy," I do not believe that you are a hero, but you are a kind, smart, and brave boy. Although, you could stand to use your intellect for more cunning purposes, like a true heir of Slytherin, but that is neither here nor there. You must understand, there will come a time I may no longer be able to guide you, and I believe this will be a perfect test of your abilities, without my interference."

This was slowly turning into Harry's worst nightmare. Voldemort loose in the castle again, Rina stalking the corridors most likely looking for muggleborns to kill, and Harry still had school to consider. Why couldn't he just be a normal stress-filled student: worrying about getting good grades, what he would be having for dinner the next day, and the best way to show Fleur how much he cared?

'Because I'm Harry Potter, that's why. Nothing ever goes well for me.'

Harry frowned, very displeased with his current lot in life. But what else did he expect? His life had never been a cakewalk, why should his school life be any different.

"Fine, but if I'm going to do this I'm going to need the books you don't let me look at."

Salazar stared at Harry for a moment, they both knew the books he was referring to, after all it would be difficult for him not to realize Salazar always watched his every move when he was told to grab a book off of the shelf. And it had never escaped Harry's notice that he was never told to grab any from the top most shelf, where only a handful of books lay with a thin coating of dust covering their spines.

"Very well," Salazar stared solemnly at him," but do not become obsessed with the pursuit of power, as Tom did. You have seen where that road ends.

Harry nodded, took the books from the top most shelf, the ingredients he would need for his first ritual, and left the chamber. For the first time since he had opened the chamber he closed the vault like door, and turned away to prepare; by himself.

Harry's P.O.V

October, 30th

12:00 a.m.

The preparation for the ritual had taken an entire month without Salazar's help, a fact that Harry was sure would make the portrait very smug. But now, the ritual was ready, and he was slaving away.

Harry was crouched down on the floor of an unused classroom, his wand flicking out to move ingredients into place, and using his will to levitate pieces of chalk to draw symbols onto the ground at the same time. The cold night air in the castle helped alleviate the discomfort of his school dress shirt clinging to his sweating back, but he needed to hurry this along. The ritual would take a lot out of him, and he would need to make his way back to Ravenclaw tower before he passed out from exhaustion once it was over.

Harry wiped sweat from his brow, the triangle was drawn perfectly. The multiple runes for strength, durability, and power were arrayed immaculately. The ingredients to reinforce and strengthen his muscles, bones, ligaments, and tendons were all arranged in the proper order he needed, so why did he feel something was missing?

That question was easy enough for Harry to figure out, it felt wrong that Salazar wasn't present to see his progress. But it couldn't be helped, and so, Harry got started.

Flicking his wand out, a pulse of magic flowed through the runes turning them purple, and the triangle glowed an ominous red. The light bathed the room, casting foreboding shadows over Harry's face that made him grimace.

With another flick of his wand, the ingredients seemed to melt into the runes surrounding them, and the array flared brighter as the essence was absorbed into the circle.

Harry breathed heavily preparing himself. The ritual was ready, and the next part had been plainly emphasized in the ritual book over and over again. So, Harry placed his wand gingerly onto the ground along with his glasses, shoes, and belt. There could be no magical objects or metal in the circle when the magic was being absorbed, or things could get very ugly.

Harry stepped into the middle of the array, and the purple and red lights converged on him, the beams of crackling energy slamming into his chest and then spreading out. The light covered his skin, and before long the shifting layer of magic began to sink into his skin.

Harry started screaming.

The pain was unimaginable. His bones broke, reset, broke, and reset again and again. His muscles shredded, reformed, and shredded; each time coming back stronger and stronger than the previous time. His bones were shards of slicing glass under his skin, his muscles were snapping whips that lacerated him as they broke from beneath the surface of his skin. His voice would no longer come out, he had screamed himself raw, and his mind had long since turned itself off under the awful onslaught of sudden agony.

Harry had no idea how long it had been before the pain suddenly stopped, and he didn't care when it had; all he could do was bask in the relief. Cold air whooshing along the flagstone ruffled his hair, and he let out a shaky, half scared sigh that made his lungs ache.

Harry shift his arms under himself, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't push himself up. His legs refused to do more than scrabble ineffectually under him, and he was sure if Terry could see his current state; the boy would be pointing and laughing at his pathetic wriggling.

Harry gave up on trying to stand, and decided on crawling his way painfully slowly toward his wand. He felt like a puddle of meat and gristle given sentience as he crawled, but when he finally made it to his wand he let out a sigh of relief.

'Now what?'

Harry thought about that for a moment before he realized he had no idea what to do. He could try levitating himself by his clothes all the way to Ravenclaw Tower, but what would he do to open door? He could only multitask the spells for creating the ritual's configuration because Salazar had been drilling the steps into his head for months. So while he could do a few simple things at the same time like controlling chalk and levitating ingredients, it wasn't like he could suddenly cast more complex spells to levitate himself and open doors.

Harry groaned on the floor of the unused classroom and lay there for minutes that quickly turned into hours, and before he knew it, he was asleep on the ground.