Harry Potter and the Defiance of the Hero

HARRY POTTER AND THE DEFIANCE OF THE HERO

Chapter 14 - Destiny Darkened

Destiny has two ways of crushing us - by refusing
our wishes and by fulfilling them.

~~Henri Frederic Amiel

"Blink once for me," Lily said kindly, shining the pale light of her wand into Harry's eyes. "That's good... and again."

Deciding that something was wrong with him on the way up from the castle gates twenty minutes ago, when that strange dark haze had once again fallen before his eyes, Harry had come straight to the hospital wing for a quick check-up. Lily, his mother (of a kind), was the only one there - as Madam Pomfrey had gone into London to replenish her dwindling potion stock - so she was seeing to Harry.

"What did it feel like?" she asked.

Harry shrugged, and rubbed his tired eyes now that Lily was done shining her wand into them. "It didn't feel at all,' he said after some thought on the matter. "It was just a... a haze, kind of. Like I was looking through a mesh screen. I thought it might just be because I'm tired...."

Lily nodded. "Quite possibly... do you ever slow down?" she asked with a smile. Her smile faltered when Harry morosely shook his head. "Well I can't see anything physically wrong with your eyes. Perfect vision, actually."

"Could I... could I get some dreamless sleep potion?" he asked quietly. "I need a good night's sleep."

"Of course," Lily said quickly, and flicked her wand towards the potions cabinet in her small office across the infirmary. Ten seconds later and she handed Harry a small vial of grey liquid. He accepted it gratefully and slipped it into the pocket of his robes. "So..." Lily said. "What did you get up to today?"

Harry laughed sadly, bitterly and pressed a hand against his forehead. "Not much..." he managed. "I bought a few things for the team, devised a way to find Slytherin Fortress, and killed a man...."

Despite herself, Lily gasped and sat down onto the bed next to Harry, placing a hand on his battle scarred shoulder. "What happened?"

"A bounty hunter, I think," he whispered, staring despondently at the stone wall across the room. "I'll have to ask Art... anyway, he... he came at me in Diagon Alley - took a swing at my head with a blade, I pierced his heart with an arrow."

"Self-defence," Lily replied.

Harry shrugged and suddenly became aware of her hand on his shoulder, his scarred shoulder - the one pierced by the blade, that had not healed properly. "My shoulder," he said. "It -er- it sometimes hurts or goes numb in the mornings. I was wondering if there was anything you could do about that?"

Nodding, Lily rose and with a warm smile, walked over to her office this time - not summoning anything - and disappeared inside of it. The sound of drawers being opened and closed reached Harry's ears, and he stood up, picking up the bag with his purchases in it as he did.

"Here we are," Lily said a few minutes later as she emerged from her office. "This cream should help. Apply it before you go to bed at night and it should ease the muscles and repair the damage... although I'm afraid that your shoulder may be beyond healing entirely."

"Thanks," Harry said and accepted the small glass jar that was about a third full of a clear, jelly like substance. He placed it in his bag alongside the small trunks. "I've got to go now. Lots to do."

"Do take care, Harry," Lily pleaded, somewhat desperately. "Don't die on us."

Harry looked into her eyes that were identical to his for a brief moment, before turning away and leaving without saying a word. It was early in the afternoon when he stumbled out into the corridor after an unexpected bout of dizziness. The world spun around him and after it settled he slowly began the trek towards the Room of Requirement.

Sunlight pierced the castle through the many windows in thin rays of grid-like squares along the red carpet that trailed along most of the stone floor. In time he came to the invisible room and, after walking past it three times, a small wooden door popped into existence and Harry turned the gilded golden knob and entered the darkened room.

The large circular meeting table was in its usual position in the centre of the room, as Harry had required the headquarters room to appear, and he sat down heavily in his chair at the 'head' of the table. He placed his bag on the table and required the fireplace to roar to life and provide some warmth.

A few moments later and he removed one of the trunks from within his bag and held it in the palm of his hand. It wasn't very big in this state, and Harry thought it could easily be concealed. These things would prove to be very useful soon, and over the coming months.

Yawning, Harry put the trunk back in the paper bag and scratched at the stubble around his chin for a few thoughtful moments and then removed the dreamless sleep potion vial from his robes pocket, staring at it critically. Are you going to work? he wondered, uncorking the vial.

Shrugging, Harry swallowed half of the grey liquid and then stoppered it again. Feeling sluggish almost immediately, he rose from his chair and required a small bed, a fold out cot really, to appear against the far wall. Legs heavier than lead, he collapsed onto the bed and only just managed to kick his shoes off, before pulling the heavy quilt up around his shoulders - his head now resting gently against the fluffy feather pillow.

Sleep came quickly after that, but it wasn't dreamless - it never would be anymore - but it was, for good or ill, peaceful. Harry slept through to later that evening, and all he dreamt about was a single, solitary white rose, swaying in the wind.

****

Harry awoke feeling somewhat refreshed, and healthier than he had done in over a month. His shoulder was aching painfully, but a few rotations of that and the circulation starting moving again properly and the pain disappeared. The clock on the wall told Harry that it was approaching seven o'clock, and the meeting with his squad would be starting soon.

Standing with a stretch, Harry slipped on his shoes and required the bed to disappear. He then returned to his seat at the circular table, examining his bag which was exactly where he had left it six hours ago. It wasn't long before his team began to arrive, and Harry greeted each one of them in turn under the soft torchlight he liked the room to provide.

First to arrive were those of his team who were staying in quarters at the castle. Sirius and Dermas arrived together, along with Grace and Thomas Fright a few minutes later. Sophia Tréla was next through the door, her hair tied back in a smooth ponytail. She greeted Harry like she always did, and took the seat two over from his right.

Tonks was next, she greeted them all kindly, and last to come in silently - glancing meaningfully at Harry - was Art Nuan, their hitwizard. He only inclined his head to the others as he took his seat.

"Good evening everyone," Harry began the meeting. "Straight into it then, any news?"

"Nothing to report," Sirius said.

"Me neither," Dermas was next.

"Nothing, Commander," Sophia whispered.

"It's unusually quiet out there," Tonks said.

"Nothing," Grace and Thomas said in unison.

All of their gazes fell on Art, who was staring at Harry with his chin resting on his closed fist, which he had placed against the arm of his chair. "That man you killed today, Commander, was named Gunther Nicholia. An international bounty hunter, and one of the most vicious in the business."

"What's this?" Sirius asked sharply, glancing at Harry. "What happened?"

"I was attacked today in Diagon Alley," Harry said, addressing the whole group. "A man came at me with a sword, I killed him... Has anyone heard anything at all about a possible attack, Tonks?"

Nymphadora Tonks shook her head slowly. She had spent her day back at the Auror division, speaking to Remus about his contacts and doing research with the Muggle authorities. The attack on Trafalgar Square had been officially classified as a terrorist attack, with several groups actually claiming responsibility. Only the Muggle Prime Minister and a select number of other non-magical individuals knew the truth.

"With any luck," Tonks said. "There won't be another one."

"We can only hope," Sophia said passionately, and unexpectedly, as she rarely showed emotion. "What do you have in that bag, Commander?"

Removing a small trunk from the bag, Harry placed it on the table and then, with a flick of his wrist, sent his wand into his hand from the concealed holster - he tapped the trunk once and it enlarged itself several times over, until it obscured Harry from view. "What we decided upon," Harry said. "There's one for each of you. Nothing in them at the moment except for a WindStream -"

"A WindStream!" Sirius suddenly exclaimed, as Harry shrunk the trunk back down. "Harry," he laughed. "You bought eight of the best brooms in the world... how much did that set our good friends at the Ministry back?"

"Five thousand, four hundred galleons," Harry said. "Although with the figures Crouch gave me the other day, I'll doubt they'll even notice it."

"You didn't buy anything else?" asked Grace, raising her eyebrows questioningly.

"I wasn't sure what to buy," Harry shrugged, "beyond the brooms. We'll have to make a list... and we all have to head into Diagon Alley at some point to buy an extra wand."

"And some dragon armour," Dermas said, fingering the hilt of his sword in its sheath around his waist. "Did you inquire about that, Harry?"

"As a matter of fact, I did," Harry said. "And while I was there I also figured out how to find Slytherin fortress."

Silence followed this statement, as fifteen years had past in pointless search for that castle, and many had long since given up hope of ever finding it. "Well tell us," Tonks said eagerly. "What's the plan?"

Harry folded his hands in front of him on his lap, and looked at each one of them in turn. "How many of you know about the legend of the Chamber of Secrets?"

Sirius chuckled. "You can't be serious..."

Harry nodded slowly, and Sirius, upon seeing that, raised his palms upwards in indifference. The others around the table were all staring between the two of them, as only Tonks and Dermas had ever heard about the chamber - the rest of the team had not been magically educated at Hogwarts.

"Well..." Sirius began. "According to legend, Salazar Slytherin left an old chamber somewhere in this castle, put a monster in there, and then stormed out in a huff to wage war against the Muggles and those not of pureblood. The chamber can't exist though... in nearly a thousand years no one has ever found it. Prongs and I used to spend weeks at a time searching for it back when we were students here. There's no chamber."

"Actually," Harry said, "there is."

"Where is it, Harry?" asked Tonks.

"In the girl's bathroom on the second floor," Harry said promptly, as he formed a small ball of magical light in his palm, and began to slowly throw it from hand to hand - changing its colour as he did.

Tonks giggled, thinking the answer an uncharacteristic joke on Harry's part. Harry wasn't laughing. "How could you possibly know that?" she asked.

Harry waved away her question and sent his ball of light sailing through the air with a thought, where it dissipated against the dark stone wall. "We'd still be here into next week if I try to answer that. Just know that it's there - hidden in plain sight really."

"What aren't you telling us, Harry?" asked Thomas Fright, frowning at him.

Harry met his gaze and didn't flinch. "Nothing you need to know," he said, and it was Fright that first looked away.

"Say that it is there," Sirius intervened. "What makes you think it will lead us to Slytherin Fortress?"

Harry shrugged. "A hunch... a feeling... instinct. I think Slytherin would have been arrogant enough to leave something, some clue, a hint."

"According to the legend, the chamber is home to a monster..." Trask stated. "Any ideas on that, Harry?"

"Leave it to me," he replied, but his thoughts had now fallen on the basilisk. Should I risk opening the chamber when there are so many innocent children in this castle? Is the information worth the risk? Can I kill the snake again?

"Harry...?" Tonks began.

Harry looked over the table at her. "Yes?"

"We still have a few choices besides the... chamber... that may lead us to the Fortress."

"What are you talking about?"

"Voldemort's son. He's still under lock and key in the bowels of the Ministry - he could tell us," Tonks proposed.

Ethan, thought Harry and his mind blurred for a brief moment. Why do I feel as if I'm going to be seeing him a lot over the coming weeks... months... years? Harry had last seen him bleeding to death on top of Azkaban nearly two weeks ago now. He was an evil man in this universe, and for all Harry knew most others. It would be wise to speak to him before daring to open the chamber.

Glancing at the clock on the wall, Harry made his decision. "Can you take me to the Ministry now, Tonks?" he asked. "It's only seven thirty, and we both have unrestricted access."

"Couldn't it wait until tomorrow?" she replied.

Harry shook his head. "I can't sit here and do nothing, and I don't want to open the Chamber of Secrets unless I absolutely have to - the risk isn't worth it, yet."

Tonks sighed. "Come on then," she said, standing. Apparate or floo?"

Harry stood as well. "We'll walk down to the gates and Apparate," he began. "Looks like tonight's meeting is going to be cut short. Can I ask the rest of you to decide on a list of items for the trunks? Good."

A few polite goodbyes later and a ten minute walk down the grounds in the failing light, and Harry and Tonks Apparated to the Atrium of the Ministry as they passed over the ward line. A second's worth of blackness and Harry steadied himself as he materialised on the Apparation point in the finely decorated Atrium.

Briefly he remembered back to last November - ironically it had been Ethan that had taught him to Apparate. Fate knew irony well. As it was getting late, the Atrium wasn't that crowded. A lot of witches and wizards were lining up at the floo hubs to catch a fire home and there were a few Aurors moving about the large room, pausing momentarily at the Fountain of Magical Brethren before moving on over to the phone box that led up into London.

Torches along the blue and gold trimmed walls were being extinguished periodically by a small wizard with his wand as he ambled about the large floor, and the security desk was empty.

"This way," nodded Tonks, pulling Harry by the arm over to the golden grilled elevators in the smaller room adjoining the Atrium. "We have to descend to level five, alongside the Auror division."

Silently, Harry and Tonks entered the nearest elevator alone - the grate sliding down noisily after them. It took only half a minute before the cool female voice announced that they had arrived on their desired floor, and with Tonks leading, Harry walked down the poorly lit corridor, his footsteps echoing Tonks' as she lead the way through the maze of Ministry offices and wooden oak doors.

"You'll have to sign in and out and surrender your wand when asked," instructed Tonks as the descended down a flight of short stairs and came to a door that was marked with the emblem of the Ministry - two wands crossed over the British Isles. "Although I don't suppose it makes any difference with you," she finished with a small, nervous smile.

Pushing through the door, Harry was momentarily dazzled by the amount of light in this room. It took his eyes a few moments to adjust, and he was soon following Tonks again towards another set of double oak doors about fifty feet away. There were two Aurors outside these doors, one seated behind a desk, the other standing with his arms folded next to the door.

Their approach was regarded coldly, and it wasn't until Tonks gave her name and Auror number that the two men relaxed slightly.

"We're here to see one of the prisoners caught at Azkaban," Tonks then said, addressing the man seated behind the desk, who was inking a quill and unrolling a scroll of parchment.

"Name?" he asked from behind the desk, his bushy brown eyebrows pointing down in a frown.

"If he has one, he hasn't told us," she replied. "You Know Who's son..."

The Auror behind the desk looked startled for a moment but he quickly recovered. "No one's to see him. Special order from the Minister himself -"

"Minister Crouch won't mind me going in there," Harry spoke for the first time, stepping up to the desk. "Harry Potter."

"Dear Merlin, so you are," the Auror said, clearly stunned. "Well I..." he looked to the other Auror for help.

"Orders are orders," this man shrugged. "Sorry, Commander Potter."

Harry frowned. "I'll take responsibility," he said. "The Minister really won't mind."

"Well..."

"This is very important to the war effort," Tonks stressed. "If we could just have five minutes."

"What do you think, Steve?" the Auror behind the desk asked his partner.

"Five minutes," he said with conviction. "And if the Minister asks, you'll answer for it, Commander."

Harry nodded, and then he and Tonks went through the process of signing the parchment and surrendering their wands. Harry sent his into his palm with a flick of his wrist and dropped it on the desk indifferently. "Steve will show you through," the man behind the desk said. "Five minutes."

It took one minute for the Auror named Steve, a tall man with short brown hair and dark eyes to unlock the large doors which he had been guarding. A key was placed in the bronzed lock and then a complex series of incantations were uttered to deactivate the wards.

The corridor beyond was lit with the usual torchlight and felt, to Harry, slightly damp and cold. He and Tonks followed Auror Steve silently deeper into the rarely used holding cells of the Ministry. Occasionally Harry felt a tingle on the back of his neck, and knew he was passing through more security wards - possibly designed to check for concealed items or wands.

The corridor was fairly straight forward. They followed it without deviating from the main path, even though many other corridors shot off to the left and right. It was too dark to see any of them, and as Harry glanced behind he saw that the torches were extinguishing themselves as they fell out of range. Another security measure, meant to light up the area wherever there was movement.

Had Harry and Tonks chosen to walk down any of these side paths, they would have come across strong iron doors set impregnably into the stone with bars for windows. Holding cells - cleaner and a lot more humane than those of Azkaban. Had it still existed, that is.

After about two minutes the corridor they were on ended abruptly with one of those iron doors barring their way. This door was for high security prisoners, and as such it was protected with a series of wards just as complex as the ones back on the door in the sign-in room. The tall man named Steve spent some time repeating the incantations he had said a moment ago.

"Are you coming in?" Harry asked Tonks, as Steve grasped the iron handle of the large door and, with a grunt, pulled it open.

Tonks nodded. "Would you rather do it alone?"

Harry blinked and then shook his head. "It's probably best someone's there to keep the peace..." he whispered, looking through the door - and seeing an identical one a few feet ahead.

"That door will open when I close this one," said Steve. "A warning now. If you have a wand on you the scanning wards in there will stun you instantly. Anything you'd like to declare?"

Harry and Tonks shook their heads, and entered the small room between rooms, and waited a few moments for Steve to close the iron door behind them. "Let me do the talking," Harry said.

A blue light flashed as the door clunked closed behind Harry and Tonks, and it was followed by a red one. The scanning wards, Harry thought. Facing the other door now, Harry prepared himself for what was next, as silently the large iron door swung open on its hinges.

The cell was smaller than he thought it would be. Four stone walls with a torch blazing on each, and an impregnable stone roof that was four feet thick above their heads. The walls were smooth, no cracks and magic kept them intact, unbreakable. The only piece of furniture in the cell was a small bed, upon which sat a dark figure - staring emotionlessly at the latest arrivals to his cell.

"Good evening," Harry said strongly, showing the same amount of emotion as his adversary - none. Tonks remained by the door silently, as Harry crossed the room to stand a few feet away from the pale figure, leaning with his back against the wall.

"Is it evening?" Ethan asked in a harsh, cold voice that croaked on every syllable. "I wouldn't know..."

Harry saw that Ethan's eyes still held the tint of red, the sign of dark magic, and that they flashed dangerously as they connected with Harry's. He was wearing a set of plain black - prison issue - robes, and his black hair was sprawled untidily across his head. His face was covered in a short amount of fuzz, two weeks growth as he hadn't been able to shave. Ethan's hands rested on his knees and his bare feet were brushing the floor.

"It is evening," Harry replied. "Evening on the 18^th of April-"

"I wondered how long it would take you to get here, Potter," Ethan croaked. "You've come for the location to my father's fortress..."

Harry said nothing for a moment. He walked along the bed and put his back against the nearest wall, slipping his hands into his pockets as he did. "What's your name?" he asked, unexpectedly.

Ethan's gaze had followed him to the wall, but now he looked across the room to stare at Tonks. To her credit, she held his glance, and after a few moments Ethan's eyes fell down to the smooth stone floor.

"My father has yet to give me one," he answered Harry. "One day, perhaps when I reach adulthood, he'll bestow me with a dark name - one that will strike fear into the hearts of the weak as his does."

"Voldemort," Harry said, and Ethan glared at him. "Do you mind if I call you Ethan then? For convenience sake."

"A filthy Muggle name... much like Harry, you mock us both."

Harry shrugged. "To each his own. Where is your father cowering?"

Ethan laughed bitterly. "How many attempts have been made on your life since my incarceration, Potter?" he asked. "How many do you expect to follow?"

"We're not here to talk about me," Harry replied, ignoring the question. Ethan was nothing if not intelligent.

"No...." Ethan whispered thoughtfully. "Although what a tale that would be to hear. For curiosity's sake, where do you come from?"

Harry smiled conspiratorially. "What did Voldemort tell you about me?"

Slowly, Ethan stood up and his joints cracked and ached as he took a few steps closer to Harry. Harry didn't move, but his palm inside of his pocket tingled with magic. "A strange thing... whispers of other worlds. Is that true?"

"Perhaps... what would you do if I told you?"

Ethan smiled now, and then turned and limped across the room to lean against the opposite wall. Harry noticed that limp and realised it was he who had given it to him, when he had thrown Trask's sword through the back of Ethan's leg with his mind. It hadn't been healed properly - Harry felt a brief spark of remorse as he thought of that, but that feeling was gone a moment later.

"I would," Ethan began, "honestly stand in awe of the magic capable of doing that. It is a power even the Dark should respect."

Harry felt, at least this time, that Ethan was speaking truthfully. "It is true," Harry whispered, his mind falling back into the boundary, the Stream - and the entity he had met there. The Guardian, whatever that was.

"Ah," smiled Ethan. It didn't reach his eyes. "You don't belong here... you shouldn't have interfered. Merlin knows what consequences there could be for you - let us hope they are painful."

Harry was slowly losing his patience. "Tell me how to find your father. It could help you when it comes to sentencing."

Ethan laughed again, running a hand through his hair. "We all know that for my 'crimes', life in Nabakza is the bare minimum. Death probable. Do not attempt to fool me, Potter. That is futile."

"You don't sound too concerned about this," Harry said.

"I'm not. My father will raze this Ministry to the ground before long, and I will rejoin him. Our fury will crush the world."

Harry scowled. "Your father will be dead soon. Now tell me where to find him!"

"Death will claim this world before I answer to you, Potter," Ethan spat, his hands curling into fists.

Silently, Harry stared at Ethan for a full minute, weighing up his options. He was never going to talk, that much was clear. So Harry was wasting his time here. Shrugging once, he nodded to Ethan and then began to make his way back over to the iron door that Tonks was standing against.

She pulled it open as he approached and just as Harry reached it, Ethan spoke a final time.

"We are not done, you and me," he said. "Soon, we will battle to the death. I feel that coming... it will be spectacular."

Harry walked into the small room between the iron doors, and without turning around, said, "Where I come from...." he began slowly. "Your father killed you because you made the right choices. You could have been so much more... I sincerely hope I don't have to kill you."

"Hope for the best but prepare for the worst, Harry," Ethan said finally, just as the iron door closed and sealed him once again alone in his stone prison.

"Well what the hell did all of that mean?" Tonks asked once they were back outside the cell, and following Auror Steve back along the passage.

Harry was deep in thought as they walked, but he offered Tonks a small smile as they walked. "You know I said I could find the Chamber of Secrets?" he asked her.

"Uh-huh."

Harry sighed. "Well that's because I opened it in another world."

****

The morning of April 19^th, 1997

"How have you been, Harry?" Albus Dumbledore asked kindly from behind his large desk. Fawkes sang a single note as he said this, and it warmed Harry the way it always did.

"Busy," Harry replied honestly. That was the truth, he thought. Having managed a few hours sleep last night after he and Tonks had arrived back at ten o'clock, with the help of the dreamless sleep potion, Harry had been up since three a.m., practicing his transfigurations skills for what lay ahead.

"Quite a lot you have undertaken since arriving in our world," Dumbledore said. "I fear that if you keep this pace up you could do yourself some damage."

Harry shrugged. "That's not about to change any time soon, too much to do - so little time in which to do it. In five months I can catch the next equinox out of here."

"We shall be sorry to see you go. You've brought nothing but hope to our world," Dumbledore said.

"But left another at the mercy of a madman," Harry whispered. "And I just don't feel... right in this world. Something is wrong, but I can't place it. I have to go back, that's what feels right."

Dumbledore nodded and a comfortable silence fell between the two of them. It was broken only by Fawkes' gently singing, and from the small murmurs uttered by the dozens of portraits adorning the walls. A moment later and Dumbledore spoke again.

"What brings you to my office today then, Harry? You mentioned something about needing my approval..."

"I do," Harry nodded. "I want to open the Chamber of Secrets, Professor."

Dumbledore visibly paled, and Harry saw him clutching the arms of his chair tightly - so much so that his ancient knuckles turned white. "The Chamber...."

"If this world is as close to mine as I think it is," Harry continued. "Then the Chamber was opened fifty years ago." Dumbledore nodded slowly, and pain was reflected in his eyes. "I thought so. I think the defining event in this universe, that makes it so different from my own in this time, was what happened at Godric's Hollow sixteen or so years ago. That means that Riddle opened the Chamber and -"

"A female student died," Dumbledore managed. "Yes... Tom Riddle. Voldemort. The heir of Slytherin. The chamber was never found, Harry, nor the monster slain."

Harry leaned forward in his chair. "In my world it was - I found it, I killed what was inside. And now I'm here, four years later, making all new mistakes for the same reasons, and I want your permission, as Headmaster, to open the Chamber and see what's down there."

"Why?"

"I'm willing to bet there's something down there that will lead me, lead us, to Slytherin Fortress - and Voldemort."

Dumbledore stood up from his chair, and moved around the desk so he could gently stroke Fawkes, who was still singing softly. "What monster makes that Chamber its home? What evil lies beneath this castle?"

Harry sighed. "The king of snakes. A basilisk... that answers only to the heir of Slytherin."

"Merlin..." breathed the Headmaster. "A thousand years. We couldn't know... Myrtle."

"If we're lucky - the beast will be asleep," Harry continued, ever strong and goal orientated. "And we can get in and out without ever having to wake it... but, if it does awake, I'm ready to slay it again."

"How did you manage such a task the first time?" asked Dumbledore, turning to face Harry and leaving Fawkes for the moment. "And at twelve years of age?"

Harry stood now, and turned away from the headmaster and glanced up at the shelves that lined the walls of the study. His eyes passed over portraits, Dumbledore's strange silver instruments, and then finally fell upon the patched and well used Sorting Hat.

"I had some help," he said carefully. "From Godric Gryffindor."

"The sword?"

Harry nodded. "Down in the Chamber, four years ago, Fawkes blinded the basilisk, and as it lunged at me I pierced the roof of its mouth with the sword of Gryffindor, my sword, and killed it. It was luck, for the most part - but some force didn't want me to die that day..."

Harry hadn't taken his eyes off the Sorting Hat as he spoke, and now, with a flick of his wrist and a thought, he summoned the brown hat from its stand and caught it gently in his left hand.

"You intend to retrieve the sword again?" asked Dumbledore.

Harry held the hat in his hands for a long moment, staring down into the darkness that seemed to go on forever beneath its rim. "It is always better to be safe than sorry," he said, and placed the worn hat on his head.

"I need your help again," Harry whispered, just as the torn rim of the hat fell before his eyes.

"Hello again, young Gryffindor," replied the most ancient, and wise voice - the sentient magical being, who lived inside the hat. "How can I aid the descendant of Gryffindor?"

"His sword. Do you still have it? Will you give it to me?"

"Ah..." the Voice grew cold. "A request I should have expected. To answer your first question, yes - I do still possess the blade of your ancestor... as for the second... no, you may not have it."

Harry bristled, feeling unexpected anger. His magic bubbled. "Why not?"

"Power... it courses through your veins. You are magic in its purest form... I see in your mind how you have wielded such power, and it saddens me," the voice said, and Harry thought he could hear regret in that voice.

"Wha- Why?"

"You are well acquainted with Death, having nearly crossed over yourself many times, and the path your soul walks is dark - and growing darker with your choices."

"Where is this going?" Harry asked, again feeling angry. "I mean, sure, I've done some pretty damn terrible things over the last few months - but it's all been for the greater good..."

"Do you remember this?" asked the hat, and Harry felt a sharp pain in his mind. A moment later and one of his more painful memories was pushed forward into his mind's eye. He saw himself falling through the sky with a glowing red wand held out in front of him. Thunder and lightning tore the sky asunder around him, and rain splashed off his face. Hogsmeade approached fast and Harry let fly his curse, his powerful curse. The blast that followed killed thirty Death Eaters.

"Of course I remember that," he whispered. "It was when I first realised that to win this war I'd have to kill. What I did there... saved the lives of twice as many good Aurors."

"The end justifies the means?"

"On that occasion it did."

"Hmm... there is another reason, why I should not give you the sword."

"And what is that?" Harry asked.

"You are not of this world. You are not the descendant of our Gryffindor."

"Your descendant is dead and buried," Harry whispered. "All this world has is me."

"And yet you are as an accomplished killer as those that threaten to destroy our world... violence isn't always the answer."

Harry shrugged, staring into the darkness around him. "It's the only one that Voldemort understands. Now, will you give me the sword?"

Silence, for a few moments.

"I... will not. Forces of both light and dark are battling for dominance in your mind. If the darkness wins, I would not provide it with such a weapon as the blade of Gryffindor."

Harry frowned. "That won't happen, I won't let it happen."

"It is not a matter of choice-"

"Everything!" Harry cut in. "Is a matter of choice."

Suddenly and viciously, Harry felt another stab of pure pain in his mind, and the image that was pushed forward this time was of those final moments in his own world, and of him stepping into the circle, the tear, in the air - and then everything that had happened after that, whilst Harry had floated near death in the Stream, and spoke to the Guardian.

"CHOICE! You bent time and space to your will with no thought to the consequences. You meddle with the very magic of existence, you abuse power -"

"I SAVE LIVES!" Harry roared. "I take lives, I change lives - I play God! So what? Who are you to judge me on what's in my past? I command you, I order you, to return to me what is rightfully mine, by birth. Give me the sword!"

"Are you afraid?" the hat asked angrily, and after another brief moment of pain Harry saw himself unleash his magic upon Voldemort, surviving the Killing Curse again, and infusing his mortal enemy with power unimaginable. "You should be. You were too young and foolish to possess the power, but in a cruel twist of irony you were the only one that could - and look at the consequences of this one choice."

"The consequences are my problem, not yours. I did it, I'll fix it, and live with it either way. But I need the sword!"

"Why? It is not just for the basilisk - there is something more."

Harry nodded. "There is... I don't know what yet, but I feel it - if that makes any sense at all." And then, in a voice that was not quite his own, Harry said, "Millions of lives rest upon your decision..."

"You truly believe that?"

"I have to; otherwise I think I'd go insane..." Harry whispered vaguely, tiring quickly now of this unexpected debate.

"...You did not answer my question... are you afraid?"

Harry sighed. "Of the damage I could do, yes. Of what I am and could be in the end... yes."

"And can you see this end?" the Voice of the Hat asked.

"No... I may not even live to see it," Harry replied. "And I'm not sure I want to. Not anymore."

"Fear?"

"Yes."

"That... was an honest answer. I may have misjudged you."

Harry contemplated removing the hat now, and just simply buying a new sword in Diagon Alley, but he decided against it. Something was nagging at him... the hat was kicking up too much of a fuss over the sword, there was something he didn't understand.

"There's more power in the sword than I know, isn't there?" he asked.

"You are very perceptive, almost eerily so. Yes, the sword holds many secrets... and for you to wield it could lead to destruction."

"I've used it before..."

"Carelessly... but always with the best intentions. You have changed since then though, your knowledge of the universe and its workings has deepened. I- I don't know what to do!"

"Trust me."

"I... shouldn't. Leave me!"

Nodding, Harry removed the Hat from his head and light filled his eyes. He turned and placed it gently down on Dumbledore's desk, and turned to face the old man himself.

"You were in there for ten minutes, Harry," the Headmaster said. "What happened?"

Harry scratched the coarse stubble on his cheeks, a thing that was becoming a habit, and looked down to the Hat on the desk. It wasn't moving, or making any sign that it was still sentient at all.

"You couldn't hear me?" Harry asked. "The Hat and I got into a bit of an argument."

"I heard nothing."

Harry looked up briefly at the Headmaster. "That's probably for the best."

Turning back to the Hat, Harry let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding as, with history being made at that moment, the glittering handle of the sword of Godric Gryffindor appeared from under the rim of the patched and frayed hat. On instinct, Harry reached forward with his left hand and pulled the blade clean out of the hat in one fluid movement. The silver caught the sunlight shining in through the west window, and for a moment Harry's face was alight with the reflected light.

"It appears your argument was successful," Dumbledore said, standing next to Harry and admiring the sword.

Harry didn't hear him. His attention was devoted solely to the blade. He ran the fingers of his right hand along the length of it, minding he didn't slice any of them off on the infinitely sharp edge. As with his original blade, when Harry held this one he felt something of the future it had wrought. A feeling of years fell upon him, and nothing but the blade could draw his gaze.

It passed though, as these things always do, and Harry turned to Dumbledore, both of them sporting a familiar twinkle in their eyes. Harry's was one of ambition, of what awaited them down in the Chamber. Dumbledore's was one of respect, and of amazement for the sword.

"When did you want to open the Chamber, Harry?" the Headmaster asked seriously.

Harry thought for a moment, and then shrugged. "No time like the present. Are you coming with me?"

Surprisingly, Dumbledore shook his head. "My first priority is to the students of this castle. I will keep them in the Great Hall for an extended lunch period. Understand this, Mr. Potter, nothing can leave that Chamber. If the basilisk should be set loose, it will be the end of Hogwarts."

Harry nodded. "I understand," he said, still holding the sword. Timidly, he tried to make it disappear into his arm - feeling for the familiar pull that this connection had created. He couldn't find it, and no wonder, it was a different sword.

Although he wondered if he could fuse it to himself as he had done the last one, but this time into his right arm. For all he knew the sword of Gryffindor was awaiting him in Dumbledore's office back in his own world, it wouldn't be practical to have two swords in the one arm - what would be the point?

So, placing the blade firmly on the Headmaster's desk, Harry took a few paces back across the room, and raised his right arm towards the sword. Trying to grasp some of the feeling that had allowed him to do this last time, he bent all of his thought towards the shimmering sword.

"Harry... what?" began Dumbledore, but stopped as the sword upon his desk began to glow with an ethereal light.

Beads of sweat appeared on Harry's forehead and his legs shook as power, pure and raw, was exchanged between blade and man. The office seemed to darken as the blade grew brighter, and a red glow emanated from the ruby upon the handle grip. The blade shimmered and for a small moment disappeared, and when this happened Harry felt a familiar tug in his right arm.

Long seconds stretched into minutes, and Harry's arm grew very hot as the blade shone deep, thrumming red now. Smoke rose from it and, with a final push of his mind, Harry wrenched his arm upwards and the sword disappeared in a flash of blue light. A second later and Harry felt his right arm grow heavier, but not uncomfortably so.

"What did you just do?" asked Dumbledore. "Did you bind...?"

"Yes," Harry answered, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. Thinking quickly, he brought the sword forward from its hiding place, just hidden out of sight, and grasped the now cool metal strongly in his right hand. "Oh... I didn't realise until now how much I missed this."

With another thought, it was gone.

****

"Dumbledore has informed the staff and the Great Hall will be locked and barred until two o'clock this afternoon. That's two and a half hours from now," Harry said quickly - formerly addressing the seven members of his squad as they stood to his attention outside of the girls' bathroom on the second floor of the castle. "This should be enough time to explore the Chamber, although I don't know how big it is. It sure is ugly though, so watch out for anything nasty in the darkness."

"And you say there's a basilisk down there?" Art Nuan asked, looking strangely unnerved. This man had never before shown emotion when discussing things with the team... but now, Harry saw fully justified fear shimmer across his eyes. He wasn't the only one showing it.

"I'm fairly certain it won't come until it's called - and I don't intend to call it," Harry replied. "But we could trigger something that will wake it. If that happens, leave it to me. Don't look at it directly in the eyes."

"This could be madness," Trask offered, as Harry pushed open the door to the female lavatory.

No one answered him, and in single file the eight of them crowded into the bathroom - allowing Harry to move forward toward the sink. As Harry approached the sink he knew would open upon the Chamber, he glanced down to the cubicles and looked for Moaning Myrtle. The stone floor was dry and sunlight streamed in through the high window, but there was no sign of the ghost.

Could've been flushed down to the lake again, Harry thought, and then turned all of his attention towards the sink.

"What now?" asked Sirius.

"Odd place for the entrance to the secret chamber of one of the darkest wizards to have ever lived," Grace mused, moving alongside Harry.

"Now I open the Chamber," Harry answered Sirius. "And I think Slytherin chose the best hiding place he could have for the entrance."

"Do we need our wands out?" asked Thomas Fright. "Or do you just push a button, Harry?"

"It only opens for a parseltongue," Harry replied.

"What? Commander... you're a parseltongue?" Sophia whispered, seeing Harry in a whole new light.

Shrugging, he replied, "Another long and complicated story. I wasn't born one though."

Behind Harry's back, the rest of his team exchanged quick, worried glances, as Harry ran his fingers across the cool marble of the basin.

Knowing what he was looking for, Harry briefly touched the small snake scratched onto the side of one of the copper taps. As he had done four, nearly five, years ago Harry turned the tap - it didn't work. With a small smile he concentrated on the snake now, swaying his head slightly so in the light it appeared to move.

"Open," he said.

Nothing happened.

"Did you all understand that?" he asked without turning around.

"English," Tonks said.

Harry sighed and then took a deep breath, concentrating all of his thought upon the snake. His eyes glazed over and blurred, stinging as he didn't blink. "Open," he said again, except this time not words, but a strange hissing crossed across his lips and a moment later the tap began to glow with a stunning white light.

Several of the squad members behind him gasped as the tap began to spin, and then in the next second the sink began to move - it sank right out of sight. A familiar large pipe was exposed, a pipe wide enough for a man to slide down.

"Ladies and gentlemen," said Trask. "Who's first?"

Obviously, it was Harry. The slime covered pipe was just as he remembered it, right down to the smaller pipes that jutted out from it at regular intervals. He twisted and turned, his robes already slick with dirt and slime, and knew they had sunk lower than the dungeons, perhaps even miles under the castle already. Eventually the pipe levelled out, and Harry was thrown from it, landing on the damp ground with a wet thud.

The others followed, each one less slimy than the last. Harry cast a few small cleaning charms on himself and the others as they arrived, and began to explore their immediate surroundings.

"Where do you think we are?" asked Sophia.

"I think it drops us out under the lake," Harry answered her, noticing that the French woman had lost nothing of her icy composure, and was now expertly removing the slime from her tangled hair with a complex string of cleaning charms.

Without having to be asked, the eight of them lit their wands and stared into the darkness of the tunnel ahead. It was Harry who moved first, his footsteps echoing loudly on the damp floor.

The slime encrusted and dripping damp walls and stone floor made their going slow, as more than once one of them slipped, only to be caught by the fast reflexes of another. Harry led the way, and he knew no fear. He struggled to recall the last time he had been down here, and remembered what to expect.

The giant shed skin probably won't be there, he thought, as the chamber hasn't been opened in fifty years.

The darkness was all consuming, and no matter how bright Harry flared the light on the end of his wand, it never seemed to light the area more than five feet in front of him. Occasionally, one of the eight of them would step on some discarded animal bone - rat skulls for the most part, but none of them really cared to identify the deceased animals.

They came in time to the larger cave before the doors to the Chamber, and Harry was right to think the giant snake skin would not be there - it wasn't. He knew the rocks around here were unstable though, and he warned his friends and allies of that. They progressed with care.

They walked through the area the skin should have been in and the dark tunnel turned once, and then turned again beyond. After a few minutes more of careful walking, the group turned around a final bend and Harry saw yet another familiar thing. The wall, the doors, of the Chamber upon which two entwined serpents were carved, their eyes set with the same glowing green emeralds.

"Merlin..." breathed Dermas. "Anyone got any firewhiskey?"

Sirius chuckled as Harry approached the door. There was no need to pretend that the snakes were real this time, and Harry hissed 'open' in a low and faint voice. The serpents parted as the two door halves slid open, creaking on age old hinges that only magic maintained.

He was about to enter the chamber again, only this time it held no fear for him.

The seven members of Harry's hand picked squad stood behind their leader, wands grasped tightly, as the young teenager sent out balls of pure light to hang in the air along the length of the dark Chamber. They rose out of his palms, glowed extraordinarily for a second, before floating silently to rest in front of the heads of the carved serpents that supported the ceiling of the Chamber.

"Come on then," Harry whispered.

Their careful footsteps once again echoed loudly off of the floor, reverberating around the Chamber and making it sound as if there were several dozen people walking foolhardily towards a basilisk. Harry hoped the giant snake wasn't a light sleeper, as the noise was unavoidable.

Thanks to Harry's pure magic, there was a lot more light in the Chamber this time, and the large statue as high as the Chamber itself, standing against the back wall, came into view sooner than expected.

A giant face, ancient and monkey-like, sporting a long thin beard that fell almost to the bottom of the dark wizard's stone robes. Salazar Slytherin...

Harry's gaze was on the face and only the face though, more specifically the tightly closed mouth of the dark wizard. He let out a relieved sigh when he saw it closed.

"Okay," he whispered as the reached the carved feet of the statue, where Ginny had lain the last time Harry had been here, a world away. "Spread out. There are many pipes and anterooms, caves and passages leading around and about. You're searching for anything that could be useful. Sirius, Dermas, Sophia, Art, I want you four to remain in the main chamber here, and concentrate your search in this area.

"Fright, Grace, and Tonks, you're with me. We're heading into that cave there," said Harry, pointing to a wide opening to the left of the statue of Slytherin. "If you four find anything, give us a shout and we'll come running."

The cave tunnel that Harry entered was as dark as the one they had walked down to reach the Chamber, and Harry found himself casting more bright balls of magic from his palms into the darkness ahead of them. Broken pots, and shattered wooden tables littered the rough stone floor, and Harry thought they must have been at least a thousand years old.

"Do we have any idea what we're looking for?" asked Tonks, tripping slightly on a broken pot.

"Not a clue," Harry replied. "Look for parchment, scrolls, pictures on the walls. Anything!"

At length they turned a bend in the cave and lost sight of the faint glow of light that was the entrance to this tunnel, and Harry continued to light their way. He found himself hoping that the others would be all right, and hoped they didn't do anything to awake the snake. For some reason Harry didn't feel as confident that he could take it down now that he was here in the Chamber.

"Here's something," Thomas Fright drawled, flicking his wand towards a splintery piece of wood. It flew away carelessly and there on the ground was a dusty, and age old book. Its spine was long broken and as Harry carefully picked it up, several pages fell away and the cover fell to pieces in his hands.

He held what remained in his palms, and then inspiration struck. "Reparo!" he said, and white magic hit the book from underneath, and the spine, the parchment, a few of the loose pieces - all jumped up and began to mend themselves.

Magic could only do so much to something so old though, something so far gone. And as Harry kneeled on that cold floor, flipping slowly through those old pages, it began to degrade again before his eyes. He had seen enough though, it was nothing.

"An old potions text," he said, with a hint of disappointment. "Useless..."

The four of them walked on further into the darkness for what must have been at least a quarter of a mile. The only light came from the tips of their wands and from the small balls of light that Harry was sending out before them. That potions text appeared to be the first of many as well, as soon the ground was littered with old books, degraded scrolls of parchment, and odd bits and pieces.

Glass crunched under their feet and Harry felt as if it would take days to search through all of this, and a lot could happen in that time. This excursion may just yet prove to be pointless, when suddenly the cave came to an abrupt end - a solid rock wall barring their way. Harry sent up several balls of light above him to highlight the wall, and when they did he gasped.

On the wall, written in letters of red fire that sprang to life as Harry placed his hand upon the cool stone, was a poem, of sorts, it was really a riddle. Tonks, Grace, and Fright stood behind Harry, their eyes scanning the lines of text and their brows furrowing in confusion.

Harry read it as well, his hand still resting on the wall, and then viciously he felt a jolt of... electricity... power, perhaps, shoot up his arm and jar it at the socket. "Damn," he whispered, shaking his arm. "What was that?"

****

"You found anything, Sirius?" Dermas called down the echoing Chamber, his voice bouncing off of the stone pillars and reverberating through the deserted tunnels.

"It's just a statue," Sirius shrugged, walking to the right around the large statue of Salazar Slytherin. "And an ugly one at that."

Art and Sophia were examining the dozen or so stone pillars that held the chamber up, fashioned in the images of serpents. There was writing upon them, written beneath the head, but it was a Latin phrase, and on every statue it said the same thing,

Blood Be Pure

"Do you think we will find anything, Mr. Nuan," Sophia asked the international bounty hunter, the hitwizard.

"Harry believes we will, and I find myself trusting him, even though we have barely spoken beyond war issues," Art replied, running his hand down the cool marble of one of the statues. "Perhaps that it why I trust him."

"That Auror, Tonks, she told me the Commander was from another world..." Sophia whispered. "Have you heard anything about this?"

Art walked through a few inches of water to examine a metal and rusted grate; it was a long moment before he answered Sophia. "I don't doubt it, Mademoiselle Tréla," he said. "We're caught up in something beyond us, and it all revolves around that boy, the Commander. I think whatever happens over the coming months, we're going to lose him one way or another."

Sophia opened her mouth to reply, but Sirius Black beat her to it. "HA!" he cried. "The eyes, the eyes on the ugly statue are glowing."

Sophia and Art moved quickly, fearing the worst, fearing the basilisk, and as they walked around the stone pillar and drew level with Sirius and Dermas in front of the statue, all four of them watched the glowing green eyes of the statue die, and the face begin to move. Slytherin's great mouth was slowly opening, half a century of dust was disturbed as this happened - and the four allies stared transfixed.

****

Harry didn't touch the wall again, but he knew they had done something, triggered something. "Copy it, Grace," he said. "We've got to get back - now!"

His tone left no room for argument, and quickly Grace Arnair removed a scroll of parchment and a quill from within her robes pocket. Ink came next, and she quickly began to scrawl the poem, the riddle, from the wall onto the parchment. This is what she wrote:

Greet part of eleven
Leave a few from seven
Ever you are true of blood
None but the heir, is the one,
Follow the lock, and wood

To the Fortress, you shall come

Many months of confusion would follow these words, but for now a greater threat to the lives of Harry and his team was looming barely a quarter of a mile away from where Harry now stood.

"You got it?" he asked Grace quickly, feeling the very tension the stale air now held.

Grace checked her parchment and then the wall word for word, and then nodded. "Got it."

"Right," Harry said, turning away from the wall and starting off back down the dark tunnel. "Wands out!"

"What is going on?" asked Fright.

"I think we triggered something..." he replied.

Harry's lights were still glowing strong and their going down the tunnel was quick. Glass and old ceramic pots were crushed under his feet as he ran, and a minute later he heard a scream over the sound of his own loud breathing.

He stopped, because the scream seemed to have come from both ahead of him, and behind. He turned quickly and saw that Tonks, Grace, and Fright had fallen behind and were only just now catching up. It was ahead of him then, and not wasting another second, Harry sprinted back down the tunnel, just as a familiar voice cried,

"COMMANDER!"

Half a minute later and Harry felt the ground shake as something large impacted upon it up ahead. There was no doubt in his mind now that something, probably his touching of that wall, had awoken the Basilisk. A defence measure, probably placed there by Slytherin. Only the heir should find his fortress, and the heir could control the basilisk, so Riddle would have had no problem with waking the beast fifty years ago.

"HARRY!" called Tonks, as finally, a minute and a half after they had abandoned the riddle wall, he, Grace, Fright, and Tonks emerged back out into the poorly lit Chamber.

Harry analysed the situation in a second, seeing the coiled green snake slowly uncoiling and rising from where it had fallen from the now open mouth of the Slytherin statue. He saw Sirius, Dermas, Art, and Sophia staring transfixed at the massive poisonous green snake, which luckily hadn't raised its head yet.

The King of Serpents was back...

"RUN!" Harry shouted, shooting sparks out of his wand as he began to move, crossing the Chamber towards the snake. He was too far away though, and it was Sirius that finally began to move - and the other three next to him followed his lead. They wisely turned tail and ran, heading back down the Chamber towards the entrance doors.

Harry knew from experience though that they wouldn't make it even halfway down that ill-fated Chamber. The Basilisk had raised itself high in the air, its great blunt head was almost brushing the stone roof between two gigantic pillars.

Christ, Harry thought, and immediately lowered his gaze, now staring at the dusty Chamber floor. He could hear the footsteps of Sirius and the others retreating though, and then he heard nothing but the loud hiss, that was a shriek, from the basilisk as it took off down the Chamber after them.

Harry bit his lip as he felt and heard that large slithering bulking mass move, and then instinctively looked up to see the large snake shrieking and moving with graceful ease down after his four allies. Oh no you don't...

Tonks, Grace, and Fright were standing behind Harry, gazing in awe at the large snake that they could only see the back of. "They're dead..." Fright managed.

"No..." Harry replied, and then, surprising them all, began to run after the Basilisk - which now moved two hundred and fifty feet away.

"HARRY!" called Grace. "DON'T- OH MY!"

In the blink of an eye, Harry transformed into the mighty griffin. His claws and paws hitting the floor on the run, and increasing his speed ten fold. To Harry the change was instantaneous, and by now the most natural thing in the world, and he resisted the urge to cry from his hooked eagle beak, as that may make the snake turn - no, he merely gained speed and closed in on the basilisk.

Flight was impossible in this enclosed space, which held little air as it was. Harry instinctively knew this, just like he knew he had the power in his back legs to leap at least twenty five feet into the air. Those lion legs were hard, strong, magical, and would have made good armour.

In his griffin form, Harry could move faster than the serpent, and in less than ten seconds he was running just behind its slithering tail, being careful to stay out of sight. His sharp eagle eyes picked up the forms of Sirius, Sophia, Dermas, and Art, and he put on another burst of speed, his adrenalin on high.

He had just ran passed the end of the thick green tail when the basilisk shrieked a hiss again, and Harry saw Sirius fall, tripping Dermas and Sophia as he did. Bugger, he thought, and knew he now had to act.

He was travelling at nearly seventy kilometres an hour, and while still on the run, he braced his hind legs. With his heightened sense of smell he could almost taste the stink of the basilisk, and then, just as he reached the part of the beast where it's 'neck' arched up and rose its head from the ground, Harry pounced.

Harry pounced with enough force to break through strengthened steel, and with his front claws caught the basilisk high near its head, always mindful never to look directly into the eyes. Both powerful animals cried and roared as Harry's jump forced the fast moving basilisk off course and sent both of them slamming into three of the stone pillars that held the Chamber strong.

CRACK! The old stone gave way underneath the combined weights of Harry and the basilisk, and large chunks of stone began to fall in clouds of dust from the broken pillars. The basilisk writhed against Harry, who had inadvertently spread his wings in an effort to stay aloft and grasp onto the snake.

That... was impossible though. The hide was impenetrable. Harry's eagle claws could not grip it, ever. He was only still up on the beast because its head had collided hard with the stone wall, and that had bent its body sideways, making a beam of sorts that held Harry.

Beneath, but unbeknownst to Harry, Sirius and the others were again moving and now avoiding large pieces of falling stone. Behind him Grace, Fright, and Tonks couldn't approach, as the basilisk was now throwing its weight around and the tail was swinging dangerously across the Chamber, knocking out more support pillars.

Harry screeched and the snake hissed, finally doing what Harry knew it would do, and mercilessly flinging its head up and throwing Harry threw the air. Still in his griffin form, Harry hit the Chamber floor hard, and rolled three times before smashing into one of the broken stone pillars. Barely two seconds later and the basilisk swung its entire back end into his form, knocking him left down the Chamber towards Sirius, Dermas, Sophia, and Art.

The blow knocked the wind from Harry's massive lungs, and did, in fact, send him sailing passed the retreating members of his squad. Blurrily he saw Sirius' eyes widen as a griffin flew past him in a spinning ball of feathers and pain. Harry hit the Chamber floor again about twenty feet in front of the others, and by the time he did he was in human form.

"Ow..." he managed, looking back down the Chamber, keeping his eyes averted towards the ground and away from the basilisk's, which was screeching again as it resumed the chase. He saw the approaching feet of Dermas first, and Harry knew he had to make a choice.

The sword? he wondered... no, it isn't blind. I can't fight it if I can't look at it. Dermas was now only a few feet away, leading the small group of four. Harry saw the solution then, and couldn't help but smile slightly. Plan B then...

Flicking his wrist, Harry brought his wand into his hand and stood up on one knee, looking directly into Dermas' eyes.

"RUN, HAR-" began Dermas, but he never got a chance to finish as Harry cast something upon him.

"BESTIOLA ACREDULA!"

Sorry, Dermas....

A transfiguration spell, as death shrieked again - closing in fast further down the Chamber. Trask gasped and stopped running, as his body was twisted and transformed painlessly and unexpectedly. The other three, momentarily surprise at the sight, stopped and stared at Dermas with their mouths hanging open.

Two seconds later and where Dermas had stood only a moment ago, was a.... rooster.

Genius or insanity? The next few moments would decide that.

The king of serpents was upon them, rearing back high as Harry crouched down, putting his hands over his head in defence. The beast hissed again, shrieked again, and Harry smiled as he detected a burst of fear in that voice. He looked up briefly to see Trask, the rooster, opening his beak, and then he saw the basilisk falter.

And if the situation hadn't been so deadly serious, it may have been funny to watch a gigantic snake that weighed more than a few tonnes, try to turn on a dime in fear of a small rooster.

The basilisk hit the wall again, in its haste, and the very ground shook with that impact. You can't run now, you bastard... Harry thought as the entire length of the snake jerked and flipped, knocking on more support pillars - pillars that held this time - and screeched in terror, already realising its fate.

Dermas the rooster crowed, he crowed true and loud, and the basilisk froze instantly and its thrashing stopped. The beast lay slumped against the wall it had fallen upon. Dead, lifeless eyes stared at Harry now, but they had no effect. Amazing, Harry thought as he stood in the now completely silent Chamber - silent that was, except for the continued crows from the rooster. A fifty foot beast brought down in a second... last time was just unnecessarily hard!

"Good God!" breathed Sirius, limping over and resting his hand on Harry's shoulder. "Is that Dermas?"

Harry smiled again, and then laughed. It was the first time he had laughed in what felt like years. He was still chuckling slightly as he pointed his wand at the rooster, and muttered the counter transfiguration spell. Trask appeared in place of the rooster a small moment later, sitting on his rear in a crumpled heap.

"Bloody hell..." he managed, breathing heavily, putting a hand on his chest. "Is your life always this much fun, Harry?"

Harry offered Trask his hand and pulled the blade-master to his feet. "Most of the time everything's a lot harder. We were lucky today."

Trask smiled. "Well I guess it could have been worse. Is everyone okay?"

Grace, Tonks, and Fright were jogging up the length of the Chamber towards them, smiles on their faces and relief in their eyes. Sophia, Art, and Sirius had crowded around Dermas and Harry. Everyone was all right, everyone was alive, except for the Basilisk, which was still slumped against the Chamber wall, its full length coiled around the base of a pillar.

"I think my ankle may be sprained," Sirius said. "Hurt like hell to run those final few feet."

Harry nodded, once again assuming the role of leader. "We're going, Sirius. Grace, do you have that parchment?"

"Of course," the charms expert replied, as she, Tonks, and Fright reached them.

"Then let's get out of here. Trask, Portkey's to the Hospital Wing please."

****

Of the many fearsome beasts and monsters that roam our land, there is none more curious or more deadly than the Basilisk, known also as the King of Serpents. This snake, which may reach gigantic size, and live many hundreds of years, is born from a chicken's egg, hatched beneath a toad. Its methods of killing are most wondrous, for aside from its deadly and venomous fangs, the Basilisk has a murderous stare, and all who are fixed with the beam of its eye shall suffer instant death. Spiders flee before the Basilisk, for it is their mortal enemy, and the Basilisk flees only from the crowing of the rooster, which is fatal to it.

Harry silently thanked his Hermione again for finding that passage in some unknown text in the library four years ago, as he sat in his chair around the circular meeting table of his team. They were discussing the riddle on the wall of the Chamber, had been discussing it for the last three hours with the aid of magical location books and maps.

Harry felt as though they were getting nowhere with it, and that feeling was the reality of the situation. He read over the lines again. He held the original piece of parchment, whilst every other member in the room held a copy.

Greet part of eleven
Leave a few from seven
Ever you are true of blood
None but the heir, is the one,
Follow the lock, and wood

To the Fortress, you shall come

He tossed the words over in his mind, searching for a hidden meaning. I'm no good at this... Harry thought, glancing silently at the others, noting the looks of confusion upon their own faces.

"We may be better giving this to the Order and the Ministry," Tonks said. "I know we're here to find Voldemort, but we could use Ministry analysts."

Harry nodded. "Tomorrow... it can wait until then."

To the Fortress, you shall come.

There was no doubt in Harry's mind that he would one day soon enter Voldemort's hidden fortress, and end this war. It was just a matter of time now, as was his return to his own world. And to another war, he thought. The war I should be fighting. Sighing, Harry removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. Sleep would be rough that night, as he was out of dreamless sleep potion. But that only numbed the dreams; they were beyond blocking out now. His mind wouldn't let him forget the horrors he had seen and done in his past.

The other witches and wizards in the room were discussing something but Harry was no longer listening, he knew he should be - as it was his job as leader, but his thoughts were elsewhere. Namely, on his argument with the Sorting Hat. It was more than just for sorting though, Harry knew that now. In its own right, the Hat was a Guardian of sorts - it shaped the magical future by judging character.

The path your soul walks is dark - and growing darker with your choices.

The hat really saw that in me... Harry thought. Is it true?

The obvious answer was that he couldn't know. He was doing all he could to win a war he shouldn't have had to fight, but that was his choice. He protected good people, he killed out of necessity. But yesterday in the alley....

Why didn't I just stun that bounty hunter...?

Harry quickly shook his head. NO!. Those thoughts led to madness, paved the road to insanity. He wouldn't delve any deeper... yet. Whatever the coming months held he would face it with the same will to survive and unbreakable determination that had seen him through this far. He could do no less.

There were things that needed to be done in the now though - weren't there always? - and tossing the piece of parchment with the riddle on it aside, Harry stood. He winced slightly, as his chest was bruised from that fight with the basilisk, but it was nothing new. He could handle it.

"I have to go send an owl," he said, a detached look in his eyes. "I'll probably see you all tomorrow. Good work today."

Saying nothing else, Harry walked out of the room - leaving seven confused allies behind in the low torchlight.

"What do you think is wrong with him?" asked Sirius.

"Might be a bit tired," offered Dermas. "He did wrestle a basilisk a few hours ago."

"He's troubled," said Art Nuan, the wand-for-hire. It has been well established that Art rarely spoke, but he did listen and watch - very well. He was a good judge of character, of emotion, of pain. He saw a lot in Harry's eyes and movements... the things he said, the way he said them, how he responded to questions and events.

"Troubled... How?" asked Tonks, leaning back in her chair and folding her arms across her chest.

Art waved his hand and shook his head. "I do not know, but I believe he may be questioning his sanity."

"What if this affects his leadership capabilities?" Sophia Tréla voiced her opinion. "He is, after all, just a boy."

Dermas couldn't help the scowl that crossed his face. "A boy! How many boys do you know that duel Dark Lords and tackle basilisks?"

Sophia bristled. "I am only thinking of the group, as a whole," she said. "We cannot function with a broken leader. It may lead to death."

"None of us are in a position to approach him about this," Thomas Fright said. "We don't know him well enough. What about his father?"

Sirius sighed. If there was a problem, Harry wouldn't likely talk to James. He had only known James Potter for a month... It was then that Sirius realised that Harry knew no one on this entire planet. He recognised faces, but they didn't know him. He was alone, no friends, no family... nothing. Sirius found himself hoping that there was nothing wrong.

"Let's get back to this riddle," he said, clearing his throat.

****

Mr. Elendil,

I have the item we spoke of. How do you wish to proceed?

Regards,

Harry Potter

Harry found himself missing Hedwig dearly as he tied his small note to an unfamiliar brown tawny school owl. He knew that someone would be taking care of her, Ginny perhaps, but he missed her nonetheless. It was strange how attached he had become to the snowy white bird. She had been his only constant ever since his eleventh birthday, the only one never to abandon him. She had even been there during those long and dreaded summers spent at the Dursleys. That, along with everything else these days, had ended in tragedy.

Night had fallen on the world as Harry let the owl fly loose into the sky, and it was soon lost to the star scattered darkness. Ambling slowly up through the castle, Harry came in time to his... retreat... from the hectic day to day life he led. Ascending the stairs of the Astronomy Tower, the torches on the walls flaring into flame as he did so, Harry walked out onto the balcony - and gazed once more at the majesty of the clear night sky.

It was gone eleven o'clock now, nearing midnight, and Harry carelessly threw his legs over the edge of the parapet and sat down tiredly on the stone wall. The moon was half full and swimming gently across the sky, as Harry wrapped his arms tightly into his robes. It was cold up there, and he usually didn't feel it... but tonight something was different - not with Harry, but with the world.

I wish I'd gone and risked the dreamless sleep potion, he thought, as a gust of wind blew the messy hair on his head every which way. Perhaps I should just head for bed....

The stars incline, but do not impel.

Harry gasped as a bolt of pain rushed down the length of his curse scar, and he pulled his hand out of his robes to touch his forehead. There was no doubt this time, as there had been in Diagon Alley, he had definitely just felt scar pain. The skin was still tingling and warm under his touch.

Change or die.

Sighing, Harry dropped his right arm to rest at his side, contemplating this latest development. Did this mean that the Voldemort of his world was active again, slaughtering unchecked and unchallenged? Harry didn't think so. Perhaps he was recovering after being attacked by pure magic, getting stronger. He had said that their link, their shared minds, could run beyond one world.

For rarely man escapes his destiny.

A sense of longing suddenly fell over Harry, and he wanted nothing more than to return to his own world at that moment, and forget the darkness that was creeping into his heart, turning it into stone as it moved to destroy his soul. He wanted to see familiar faces, that knew him, that loved him. Above all he wanted to see Ginny and, of course, Ron and Hermione.

Sadness covered him like a dark blanket then, and Harry didn't know why but he raised his right palm towards the sky as it began to glow. With a thought, and a barely uttered word, he created a stunning white rose, which he grasped between the thorns once the magic was done.

Perhaps the good inside of him would win.

The rose seemed to glow like his palm had as he held it, and small drops of white light fell from the centre of the large blooming bud and floated through the night sky towards the ground over two hundred feet below. To Harry it looked like the rose was crying. Nevertheless, it was beautiful, and now Harry recalled seeing it in his dreams yesterday. The most peaceful dream he had had in months.

It was so light, and Harry moved it almost with reverence over his lap, so that the drops of magic fell onto him. When each one did, it warmed him through and a small smile spread across his face, wiping away the troubles of life and making him appear the sixteen years old he actually was.

A single petal also fell away, much like the magic, and that fluttered away into the darkness. Turning the rose in his hand, Harry caught the tip of his finger on a razor sharp thorn, and drew blood. The pain was fleeting though, and the trickle of red that now ran down the green stem ran unnoticed.

All, soon or late, are doomed that path to tread.

Such a beautiful thing was not meant to last, not for Harry. It was then, as his shining eyes glazed over with tears that would never be shed, that the strange hazy darkness claimed his vision once again. Harry gasped in shock as he felt an amazing and huge sickness that wasn't his own.

A feeling not unlike being in the Stream with the Guardian, at the mercy of existence, washed over him, and he felt a power that was stronger and older than anything he had previously encountered. And then for a moment in time he thought he saw a golden beam shooting over the horizon, connected to... coming from his forehead.

It all ended, and Harry coughed as an uncontrollable surge of power shot through and out of him, burning out of his right palm. His sight fully returned and he swayed upon the parapet, still holding the rose in his bloody streaked hand. Except now the rose held no beauty, as it was in flames.

True uncertainty flashed through Harry's mind as he watched the rose burn and die, and soon the flames licked at his fingers holding the stem. Regretfully, Harry let go the burning rose and it, just like the tears of magic, fell through the air towards the dark ground.

Death hath so many doors to let out life.

Confusion and... fear... tore at Harry as he watched the flickering flames on the castle grounds below finally burn out and grow dark. What had just happened? What is happening to me? What is wrong with me? The confusion left him but the fear did not. It wasn't fear for himself though... oh no... he was far beyond that.

It was fear that there was absolutely nothing wrong with him, and that there was something wrong with everything else... or more specifically, the magic that held this world, and all others, together. Something, somewhere, had gone wrong - and was he the cause...?

In nature there are neither rewards nor punishment - there are consequences.

He had defied the logic and law of everything that has ever existed since the beginning. No one ever said that there would not be consequences. Maybe not for Harry, as he may be the only one who could change, fix, the problem, but consequences for everyone else. It was a frightening thought, and all the more so because Harry believed it held truth.

This is too big for me, he thought, glaring up at the Planet of War, at Mars. I don't know what's happening, but whatever it is, it's worsening - and I can't stop it. No one can help me... I know next to nothing, and yet I know more than anyone else.

Harry was shivering now, and it wasn't from the cold - no. It was nerves, mingled with doubt and pain. He alone in this world, perhaps in all worlds, saw that something big was approaching fast, just over the horizon. Whatever it was it was unavoidable, it was real, and it was a greater threat than Death himself.

The thoughts that plagued Harry's mind now though, was one of the cost. What would he have to sacrifice in order to face and defeat this new threat...? Would there be enough time to? How many would die on the way?

Only one fact remained certain now to Harry, and that was an end was revealing itself finally. What it was, and where it would lead, remained dark, but it was there... and, for now, that was enough.

****