This is my first attempt at fanfiction so please have some patience. In the first couple chapters there will be sections of text directly from the book, but they will be in bold. I don't do this to plagiarize. I just thought this was the best way to get the ball rolling. There definitely won't be text directly from the book after the initial start to the events of Prisoner of Azkaban. Thanks.

All rights for Harry Potter and characters go to J.K. Rowling.

The ancient basilisk lay dead a dozen feet away and the last remnants of Tom Riddle's solidified memory had be blown apart. Once again, the school was saved from Voldemort. Ginny would be safe from the dark magic in Riddle's Diary.

If only I wasn't dying, Harry thought.

Harry dropped to his knees, his vision blurry as the basilisk venom slowly made its way through his veins. He had no idea how long he had left but his senses began to fade away. Hermione would know. She always knew. Although she would probably be crying if she saw him like this.

"Harry?" Ginny sounded so far away. "Harry it wasn't my fault. Riddle made me. Harry? Oh Harry!"

"Get to Ron," he managed to say.

Pain unlike anything he had ever known spiked in his scar. It felt like his head was being split open.

"You fool!" A cold voice shouted somewhere in his mind. "You've killed us both!"

The internal voice screamed in agony and Harry's own scream mimicked the voice as it tore through the silence of the Chamber. Deep within him, pain exploded in his chest. It felt like someone had reached inside him and peeled away his heart and stuffed fire in its place. He heard Ginny scream in terror but could do nothing but writhe on the floor.

Someone cool and soothing touched his head. It must have been wet because he felt it sliding down his face. It mingled with a black tar-like substance oozing out of his scar.

"Harry let me help you," Ginny said as she pulled him up to his knees.

The pain was suddenly gone, replaced by a strange numbness around his scar. Harry had no more time to ponder this as he pitched forward and the world went black.

Whispers slowly guided him back from the blissful oblivion of sleep. For the first time in a long time, he had not dreamt at all. He cracked his eyes open and was surprised to find that he could see perfectly.

Hermione sat beside his bed, reading from their Transfiguration textbook. Her hand held his gently and he could tell she had been crying recently. When had she woken up? Why was she crying? Did Ginny die?

"Who died?" he asked.

Hermione jumped. "Harry! You're awake. Professors, come quick."

Dumbledore and McGonagall stepped into view and halted at the foot of his bed.

"How are you feeling, Harry?"

"Sore."

"Well, that's to be expected," Madam Pomfrey said as she waved her wand several times over Harry's body.

"How's Ginny?" he asked.

"She fine and back at her dorm. She feels terrible about all this so go easy on her when you see her."

"Well, I wasn't going to yell at her or anything. She made a mistake."

"Indeed. A mistake made by many who have been hoodwinked by Voldemort. Anything new, Poppy?" Dumbledore asked.

"No, just the same," the Healer replied, giving Harry an odd look.

"The same as what?" Harry snapped.

"Harry," Hermone scolded. "I know you've been hurt but be respectful."

"I'm not hurt. I'm just not being told something. Again." His eyes locked with Dumbledore's.

"You have my most sincere apologies about what has happened this year, Harry. A 12-year-old boy shouldn't have to bear the burden of facing a basilisk of all things."

"Why didn't anyone else figure it out? Why is it Hermione who is 13 the only one who figured out that it was a basilisk? I know she's wicked smart but come on."

Hermione blushed.

Dumbledore pursed his lips. "Harry, I understand that you have been through an ordeal. Once you have had a chance to calm down, we will discuss this calmly."

The Headmaster turned to leave. Harry felt something hot bubble up inside him. How dare he just dismiss him like that. They were logical questions that would make even Hermione proud. They were simple too. Dumbledore was hiding something and Harry was sick of being lied to.

"No!" Harry screamed, launching himself off the bed. Wild magic crackled on his skin and his hands balled into fists. He wanted nothing more than to unleash the power that was boiling over inside him.

"No more lies, Dumbledore."

"Potter, calm down," McGonagall finally spoke up.

"No. I won't calm down. I won't be silent. I won't be dismissed. I have a right to know."

"You aren't ready to know."

Dumbledore's words set him back. It was one thing to tell him that they would talk when he calmed down. It was quite another to tear that away under the guise that he wasn't old enough to know something so important.

"Are you telling me that me, someone who just almost died fighting a basilisk and has faced down Voldemort three times now, aren't old enough to know. Something happened down in the Chamber of Secrets and you know something about it. You're not leaving until you tell me why."

"You have to trust me, Harry. It's for the Greater Good that I don't—"

"Why would I trust you?"

"Potter!" Mcgonagall snapped. "Apologize now."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "As Headmaster I would hope that you trust me to do what's best for you."

Harry took a step forward. The power was all around him, begging to be used.

The Headmaster held his wand casually at his side. "Harry, please don't make me have to resort to stunning you."

He opened his mouth to shout back at the old wizard but felt Hermione's hand on his shoulder. It spoke volumes of comfort, friendship and understanding. In the blink of an eye, the power left him but not before cracking the floor on either side of him and bending the metal frames of three beds.

"What's happening to him, Professor?" Hermione asked.

Dumbledore sighed. "Alas, I do not know. It would seem that Harry simply got caught up in his emotions and had a bout of accidental magic. No one was harmed so I think we can agree that no discipline will be necessary."

Harry knew he should thank him but couldn't find the kindness to do so. The anger was mostly gone but he still felt that his words were justified.

"Thank you, Professor," Hermione spoke for him. "I'm sure that Harry is very grateful. Right, Harry?"

"Yea," Harry droned.

"You had best get some more rest, my boy. We will talk later and I promise I will have some answers for you when we do." With that, he and Mcgonagall left the Hospital Wing.

Harry climbed back into bed and lay back on the pillow.

"What are you thinking?" his best female friend asked.

"I still don't trust him. Something is wrong with me. Something inside me is broken. I feel like something is missing but something else has taken its place. Now I have accidental magic. What's wrong with me?"

She grabbed his hand. "Nothing, Harry. You're the best person I know. We'll figure this out together."

He nodded. "Where's Ron?"

With a sigh, she opened her Transfiguration book back up. "He came to see you right after you were brought here. I tried getting him to come again but he said he didn't like seeing you unconscious like last year. He's a prat."

After a few minutes of silence, he said, "But you came to see me. I bet you haven't left since you woke up."

A tinge of pink colored her cheeks. "Well, I couldn't let you be lonely here, could I? I mean after all you visited me every night and held my hand too."

Harry stiffened. "You could tell I was there?"

Hermione nodded. "Not all the time, but sometimes I got the feeling that something familiar was there. It helped. Plus, Madam Pomfrey told me that you snuck in here every night."

He closed his eyes and hoped that she thought he was fast asleep.

"Harry."

"Yea?"

"It's ok that you held my hand. You don't have to be ashamed of visiting me either. It was really sweet of you." She leaned forward and kissed his cheek.

His eyes bulged.

"I'll see you tomorrow. Get some rest."

He nodded and watched her go. Reaching up to his cheek, he touched the spot where she had kissed him. Her lips had been so soft and it had sent a thrill through him that confused him. Maybe he would ask her about it later.

No, he told himself. It would just make things awkward. That's probably how loving families act. It's not like I would know.

The thought of returning to the Dursleys soon was enough to put him back in his foul mood. He hoped that tomorrow would get him some answers from Dumbledore and some much-needed time with his friends.