A Darker Path

Prologue: The Death of a Gryffindor

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. It belongs to J. K. Rowling and the various publishers. This story is written with no commercial aims. I do not make any money from it.

$Parseltongue$

=ADP=

28 May 1993

The Chamber of Secrets

Hogwarts

"Is this how it ends?" Harry Potter whispered. His addled mind barely registered the screams of Tom Riddle's memory.

Harry was on his knees in front of the cooling corpse of a 100-foot basilisk. The great serpent was dead, slayed by his hand. The hilt of the Sword of Gryffindor gleamed from the beast's mouth. It was the only visible part of the weapon that had pierced the brain of Salazar Slytherin's pet. Even the gem encrusted hilt was getting darker – it was slowly being covered by thick, black venom, which was leaking from a ruptures poison sack.

Next to the carckas, Potter was gripping a small diary in his left hand as if his life depended on it. Black ink was bubbling from a hole in the booklet. Harry had used his last vestige of strength to pry the basilisk fang which had lodged in his left arm when he killed the serpent and then slammed it through the diary.

He looked numbly at the gaping hole in his left arm. With every beat, Harry's heart was pumping out his lifeblood. But the crimson liquid looked wrong. It was darker, almost black. Just as the puffy veins in his arm. The hand with which he was gripping the diary was getting gray and slowly bloating. He could see his fingers convulsing but could no longer feel them. He blinked couple of times. His sight drifted over the shadow covered chamber until his eyes reached the prone form of Ginny Weasley. She looked peaceful, as if asleep. If he was not mistaken there was color returning to her cheeks. Harry smiled sadly. At least she was safe. Right?

Harry looked at the transparent form of Riddle which was still screaming. It was distorted and colorless. The apparition suddenly froze and then disappeared with the sound of shattering crystal. A cloud of black smoke erupted from the diary and surrounded Harry like a tornado. Perhaps the second year student should have been scared but he felt nothing but resignation. He could feel the poison coursing through his veins. Contrary to what one might expect it was not particularly painful. He had endured much worse under the tender ministrations of his relatives. It hurt for only few seconds as the venom passed through his bloodstream and after that the magical poison had already numbed his nerves as they were dying under its effects.

Harry knew that it wouldn't be long now. He could feel it – like a cold fire spreading through his bloodstream and causing his heart to seize. Thanks to Fawkes and his Phoenix's tears, which had slowed it, Harry survived long enough to deal with the diary and save Ron's little sister. A small smile stretched his dry lips. At least he did something right.

"Fawkes. Take care of Ginny. Please..." Harry's voice was barely a whisper. It was a miracle that he was able to speak at all with the venom already doing its wicked work within his lungs and throat.

The crimson bird gave a mournful thrill and went to take the Sorting Hat. Then he landed on Ginny's shoulder. The Phoenix looked sadly at the dying boy and gave him a respectful nod with his avian head bobbing in a near bow. Then the magical bird and the girl disappeared within a blinding flash of fire.

Harry's lips moved in a silent "Thank you" but no sound came out. It was so dark and cold when the spirals of black smoke which were circling him slammed in his body. Harry's body convulsed and he fell backwards, before laying still.

=ADP=

Time Unknown;

Place Unknown;

One moment he was dying within the Chamber of Secrets and then he was here. King's Cross station. The red Hogwarts Express was waiting for its passengers but the place was empty. There were no parents or guardians saying goodbye to their kids, neither students ready to start the next school year.

"Potter! Whatss did you do thisss time?!" a familiar voice hissed in a hybrid between English and parseltongue, which Harry knew only from forgotten nightmares, startled the confused kid. He turned around and found out that the station was not as deserted as it first appeared.

Two people were standing behind him. One was the young Tom Riddle, the same who had possessed Ginny. But the older teenager was fully corporeal this time. Next to him was an older man who looked to be in his forties. The pair might as well been father and son. The resemblance was that close. The only real difference was that the older man's eyes were shining with crimson light.

"Voldemort!" Harry spat. 'Just great! That's my luck. I can't even die peacefully!'

"Curious, isn't it?" A heartwarming woman's voice echoed around the three males.

Slivers of soft light and shadows danced around them. They looked around, searching for the source of the voice, their animosity forgotten for a moment.

"It was not supposed to happen like this. This is not the time for either of you to pass to the other side. Harry, Tom."The voice became sad. It caused a pang of forgotten feeling to pass through the stone cold heart of the self-styled Dark Lord.

Harry and Voldemort could feel something approaching. It was magic. Pure. Light and Dark. Yin and Yang. It swirled around them. Tantalizing. Seductive. It was both the gentle cares of a loving mother, the fiery passion of a lover's kiss.

"Tom Riddle." The Dark Lord, both of his incarnations, stood rooted in place. They could sense a pair of eyes staring straight into their soul.

"The Darkest of paths, you've been walking, child of Slytherin."

The all seeing sight turned towards Harry.

"Harry Potter. Son of Gryffins. Plunged into darkness. Neither can live while the other survives. Victims of Prophecy. Descendants of Godric and Salazar bound by destiny."

The older Riddle nodded.

"Is that the crux of the prophecy?"

Harry looked around in confusion. 'What is that supposed to mean?!' he wondered.

"And the Dark Lord shall mark him as his equal..." the woman interjected.

"Merlin's balls!" both Riddle's cursed.

Harry's eyes widened and his right hand shot to the lightning-bolt shaped scar on his temple.

"Yet, you two were never equal. A paradox. For this was one of the few True Prophecies to be ever uttered by a mortal soul." The woman paused."While I am Magic, with Light and Dark, being a simply Man-made distinction that isof no matter in the great scheme of things, Fate requires balance."

"There is no good or evil. Just those too scared to pursue power!" Riddle hissed.

"Tom, you are such blind, foolish child."

A lithe, brilliant figure of a woman materialized between Harry and the pair of Riddles. Her skin was made of blazing magic, which was painful to look upon. She was dressed in a gown made by slithering shadows, which were clinging upon her soft curves. She smiled at Harry, dazzling him. Somehow he knew that he could perceive only a tiny fraction of the woman standing before him. She was power. She was Magic itself.

"Harry, you have a choice to make."A hand covered by a glove of dark velvet waved at the waiting train. "You could board the Express and go to the other side. And yes, your real family will be waiting for you there."

Harry's eyes became huge. His Mum and Dad were waiting for him?! He shuddered with excitement. His face glowed with a goofy smile. No more Dursey's! No more dark, hateful whispers! He was ready to shout with joy when his gaze met the cruel, red eyes of Voldemort. Harry's high spirits were dashed on the spot. In an act of maturity that no one would have expected of a twelve year old, he pointed at the Dark Lord and looked at the woman.

"What about him? What will happen to him if I die?"

"The Prophecy will be resolved, in a way. Tom will come back to life. Britain will fall to Voldemort. For a time."

"What about my friends?"

"Some will flee. Some will fight. Child, no matter what you choose here, their actions and destiny are their own. Just as your fate now lies in your hands. Harry, you won't be responsible for what happens if you choose to pass on. Fate will have her due."

Potter huffed in frustration. He might not be held accountable for what happens to his friends by someone else. But Harry already knew. He would blame himself for what would happen regardless. He looked at the woman who was smiling at him.

"You already know what I will choose."

"Do I?" Her musical laughter was a balsam for his soul. "At this moment, there are two strings of possible futures. In one you board the train. In the other you go back. They are both valid. They both happen. In a sense you've already made both choices."

The younger Riddle was first to understand what the woman meant.

"So every choice happens somewhere. There is timeline, or is it reality? Universe? For every possible outcome." He grinned. "Countess places where I've already won!" he sneered.

"And as many where you lost!" Harry shouted.

"Not exactly. Merely a timeline for every choice that has ever been made, for every one that will be made."The woman giggled. It was a soft, gentle sound that put smiles on the face of the three males. "What do you choose, son of James and Lilian Potter?"

Harry gathered his courage and gave the woman a look full of determination.

"Send me back! I can't leave my friends to face him alone! I can't allow him to hurt anyone else!"

Those words made Voldemort to laugh cruelly.

"Foolish child! Even if you win in the end it will be upon a mountain of corpses! Do you think that you can protect your friends?! You made it thus far on pure luck and my arrogance! How long until this is not enough?! You are a babe who knows nothing of our world!" the Dark Lord sneered the same way his younger self had.

"I will stop you! I will protect my friends!" Harry shouted.

What happened next surprised both Riddle and Potter.

"Harry, he is right you know. So far you've been incredibly, improbably lucky, as befits one marked by Fate.However this is not something on which you could count in the future. She is a fickle thing, my sister. Yet you made your choice. You are going back."She beamed at Harry who was crestfallen at hearing her words. "But you and Tom shall be equal. As it was meant to be. Do remember, Harry. Most magic is guided by intent. There could be good 'Dark' as well as evil 'Light' wizards and witches. As well as anything in between..."

She pointed her left arm at the two fragments of Voldemort's soul and they dissolved in moths of dark light. The woman waved them in Harry's direction and they raced towards him. Before the boy could try to protest he was engulfed in a rain of black ash which passed through his clothes as if they were not even there and was absorbed by his skin.

"Experience. Knowledge. And as you grow up, power too. When the time comes, you will be equals, Harry." For a long moment the woman gazed at the young boy in front of her. "I am sorry for the dark path you will be forced to walk from now on. It is a fine choice you made, it will be one fraught with both wonders and frightful peril. Fare thee well, Harry." She paused, her powers flaring. "Harry James Potter, Heir of Gryffindor. Rest in peace."

Harry screamed. His very soul was wrenched into countless shards. Agony beyond words gripped his very being and did not let go. In a realm where the conscious mind could not operate, the one who was known as Harry Potter died. His soul was wretched apart and its pieces were coated by a black ash. As he screamed hoarse, the shards absorbed the two segments of Voldemort's soul which was ground to dust. They realigned themselves and slowly flew into each other like pieces of a puzzle which was painstakingly put together. A soul that was wounded twelve years ago was destroyed and rebuilt. The one who was supposed to be the Boy-Who-Lived, the savior of legend, was finally put to eternal rest.

It is ironic, really. Without the actions of a frightened, sometimes meddlesome old man, Harry Potter might have become the boy who the Wizarding World expected. Yet, no here and now. Not in this timeline. It was simply something that was not meant to be. Because that knight in shining armor that everyone awaited with a baited breath was dead before his legend was truly born. From the moment Harry was left on the doorsteps of the Dursey's, any chance of him becoming the Savior, the Icon every witch and wizard in Britain expected, was gone. Now, after defeating a basilisk and a living memory of a Dark Lord, the courageous Gryffindor was no more.

"Welcome Harry James Potter, Heir of Slytherin." The woman smiled softly, like a mother watching her newborn child.

His soul was whole once more. For the first time since Tom Riddle sent the Killing Curse at his head when he was fifteen months old. Harry opened his eyes to reveal two snakelike, emerald irises surrounded by thin crimson line. He was floating several paces above the ground, suspended by invisible force.

"Even at seventeen he was an utter bastard," Harry muttered, in a tone of voice that shouldn't belong to a twelve years old boy.

Which it didn't. He had integrated most of the memories of seventeen years old Tom in his mind, up to the moment Riddle made his first Horcrux. Harry instinctively knew that in the coming months and years the memories of the older Riddle, those that were contained in the soul-shard that has been under his scar, would be slowly coming to him, integrating with his own.

That was a good thing, because it was a small miracle that absorbing the memories from the diary in one go did not shatter his mind… or alter Harry beyond recognition.

He looked at the form of the woman with new eyes and smiled. No. It was not luck or chance.

"Circe. Thank you, my Lady," Harry whispered with a hoarse voice.

"You are welcome child. It is time to return to the realm of the living. Destiny awaits you, Heir of Slytherin."

=ADP=

Chapter 1: New Dawn

28 May 1993;

The Chamber of Secrets

Hogwarts

A loud groan shattered the silence which had descended upon the one-time lair of Salazar Slytherin. A deadly pale boy opened his eyes and blinked owlishly. 'What a strange dream.' That was his first coherent thought. The sense of a cold, stone floor and the features of the strange ceiling were the first clues that he was not suffering from a too realistic for comfort nightmare. No, Sir. Harry was never that lucky. He carefully turned his head to the right and gave a quiet moan as his stiff muscles protested his action. Sure enough, he was laying just a meter away from the corpse of humongous serpent.

"What in Morgana's name possessed me go come here without preparation?!" Harry exclaimed. And immediately regretted it as his throat, which was raw from screaming he did not remember, was wracked by stabbing pain.

"Accio Harry Potter'sss wand!" he spoke, his voice warping between human speech and sibilant hiss.

The eleven inches long piece of painstakingly crafted wood flew from where it had fallen during the fight with Riddle's shade. Harry caught it with his right hand and frowned. He could feel the familiar tug in his magic as his fingers closed around the hilt. However, it felt somewhat off. The wand itself was the same, undamaged from the short, vicious battle. Yet Harry was not.

He was no longer that boy, full with hope and wonder, who was led into Diagon Alley by Hagrid. That clueless child who was the perfect match for this wand… was no more. He died in this dark, damp chamber… and he was reborn as someone somewhat wiser. And much harder.

Harry flicked the wand and a shower of sparks flew from its tip. It was much smaller and dimmer from what Harry was able to do at Olivander's. At least it worked. He grimaced and waved the wand over his body.

$Cleanse. Close. Mend. Pain begone!$ Harry hissed in the tongue of the serpents.

A stream of soft, emerald light flowed from the tip of his wand and was absorbed by his brutalized body. Harry moaned in relief as he felt his wound mending. The trace amounts of venom within his bloodstream raced through his veins and were expelled through the gaping hole in his left arm. He conjured a clean bandage and used it on the wound caused by the basilisk fang.

Even better, with every spell he cast, his wand responded better, more eager. As if it was remembering its master.

"Well, that's better. At least Tommy boy's memories are useful." Harry muttered. He carefully stood up on shaky legs. 'Uh. A Pepper-Up potion would be useful right now.'

As far as he remembered, young Tom had pillaged everything useful from the chamber. Well, at least Harry had the corpse of a freshly slain basilisk which technically was in his right to claim as the one who killed the damn snake. He would have to visit the goblins and arrange its harvesting, preferably without anyone else getting a wind of it. After all, it wasn't a stretch of the immagination that if the ministry got a whiff of the whole affair, they would try to get the lion's share of the galleons. Then there was Albus, who might try claiming the money for Hogwarts and his Order. Not to mention Snape.

After all this was a mother-load of rare potion ingredients. The money he would make selling what would be left after harvesting what he needed. The bloody thing was 100 feet long after all so there would be plenty left. By his conservative assessment that beastie should net him a quarter of million galleons. After he spent a lot of his potential profit greasing various wheels to make it stick.

A thought that wouldn't have occurred to Harry just half an hour ago.

"First things first." Harry cast a few preservation charms. Thanks to the magic that was infused in the serpent's body, it wouldn't really start decomposing for a long time but he was not about to risk such a treasure trove. 'When did I become such a greedy git? Next thing I know I'll be practicing my evil laughter…'

Being a newly minted paranoid bastard, Harry made his way to the chamber where the basilisk had been hibernating ever since Salazar placed it as a guardian of Hogwarts. Conveniently, the main ward stone for the Chamber of Secrets was situated there. Good old Sal could not have someone mucking up with the wards of his sanctum without first having a heart to heart chat with his pet. Thanks to the small part of Riddle's magic that had melded with his own when he absorbed the two soul fragments of Voldemort, Harry was able to interact safely with the wards. He keyed himself to them and canceled all others. Then he spent the next few minutes placing a half-assed anti-phoenix ward on which young Tom had been working. As he worked on it, Harry was instinctively making changes, improvements.

"Yes, a bit more power to this rune array... " Harry muttered, while he was tracing ancient symbols with his wand, burning them into the surface of the stone. Potter could see in his mind the arithmatic calculations he had made when working on the theoretic aspect of the ward. Of course, translating them into a real, working barrier against phoenix flaming was much harder process.

At the time it never crossed his mind that he, Harry, had never studied arithmancy, much less created the ward scheme he was implementing.

Instead, he was working on auto-pilot, led by a promt from the still dormant memories of what he was now calling "The Elder Riddle". It took him about a half hour to have something working in place. 'Can't have the headmaster coming in and pillaging the just spoils of battle, can we?'

"Well, that's done. Time to have a chat with the old man. But first…"

He went to the corpse of the great beast and conjured a vial made of pure silver, then enchanted it to be unbreakable. That done, Harry used a levitation spell to pry the Sword of Gryffindor from the brain of the serpent and then with a swirl of his wand sent some of the venom coating it to rest in the vial. He closed it, sealed it with a spell and then shrunk the container, placing it into one of his pockets. Next he created scabbard and sheathed the sword within it. A belt followed and the weapon was placed over his left shoulder. Lastly, Harry, made a pouch in which he placed the diary, careful not to touch the black muck covering most of it.

He headed for the exit and started casting various cleaning spells over his tattered robes. By the time he had reached the rock slide separating him from where he had left Ron and Lockhart, Harry was feeling somewhat cleaner. Now he only needed couple of hours under a hot shower.

He sniffed at his robes. Add at least two more, soaking into a baththub.

Harry looked at the blocked passage and glared at it critically. He could clear up the rocks and transfigure an arch to keep the ceiling from caving in but that would use too much of his remaining power. During his earlier ordeals and after his latest actions too much of his magic has been used up and Harry would not risk becoming even weaker right now. It was good thing that there were a lot of secret passages leading to various parts of the castle from the chamber. He took few steps back and turned to the right. He tapped with his wand one of the stones making up the wall, which was no different from the rest. The wall slid up and revealed a small, dark tunnel which stank of dead-water. With a quiet lumos to light up his path, Harry made his way out.

=ADP=

28 May 1993

Hospital Wing

Hogwarts

Madam Pomfrey was fusing over her newest patient – Ginny Weasley who was delivered into her care by Fawkes. The Headmaster, Minerva as well as Mr and Mrs Weasley had arrived a few minutes ago but were staying away and leaving her to work on the poor girl in peace. It took her only couple of glares and few harsh words to stop them from interfering in her job. The girl was showing signs of long possession and extreme magical and physical exhaustion as well as residues of some very dark magic. Pomfrey had already dosed Ginny with as much potions as she dared give the child at one go and was busy removing the traces of dark magic which were dramatically slowing the recovery process. The girl was literally soaked in some of the foulest feeling magic Pomfrey had sensed in her long career.

Considering that she has been a medi-witch during the war, that was saying something.

Fawkes was sitting on Dumbledore's right shoulder and was quietly singing a calming tune. This was the main reason the Weasley's were not freaking out while the nurse was tending their only daughter. That was the sight Harry saw when he made his way into the hospital. The Phoenix thrilled cheerfully and flew to land on the boy's left shoulder. That got the attention of the adults who turned to the newcomer. The headmaster examined the state in which Potter was and raised an eyebrow.

"Harry, my boy, I believe that an explanation is in order but first we should look at your arm."

Said boy looked at his bandaged appendage critically and nodded.

"Yeah, it's a bit punctured."

"Mr Potter! What did you do with yourself this time?!" Harry's head of house exclaimed. After Minerva saw the state in which he was she was taking great, steadying grasps and clutched her chest. 'This boy just could not stay of trouble! Just like his father!'

"What I had to do to save Ginny," He deadpanned. "But first, have Ron and Lockhart came out of the Chamber?"

The headmaster pointed at a nearby bed.

"Harry, sit and let me check your hand. Meanwhile you can tell us about young Ronnald."

Harry did as instructed and Dumbledore waved his wand, removing the bandages over the wound. Mrs Weasley and professor McGonagall gasped when they saw the ragged hole.

"I am under pain-numbing charm. It's useful after Quidditch practice," Harry commented over his lack of pain.

Albus frowned but let the explanation slide for now.

"You can use a Blood-Replenishing and Pepper-Up potions," The headmaster muttered and summoned the medicine from a nearby cupboard.

After Harry drank the foul tasting beverages he started speaking while Dumbledore was using variety of spells to check up his condition.

"Last I saw them, Ron and Lockhart were still in the Chamber of Secrets. That poor excuse for professor tried to obliviate us and caused a cave in that separated me from Ron. The entrance is in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom and as far as I know it is still open. I think that one of Ron's legs was injured when that idiot that masqueraded as DADA teacher blew up the ceiling."

The listening adults were appalled. Before one of them could explode at the boy, the headmaster spoke.

"Minerva, Molly, you should go check on young Roland. Fawkes will get you there the fastest I should think." Moments later the two women disappeared within a flash of phoenix fire.

"Now, my boy, tell us what exactly happened," Albus asked with a hint of concern in his voice. The way Harry was talking and acting was out of character. Suddenly the kid's bearing was like of someone more mature. The sure way he was speaking and dismissing his serious wound was unlike the shy boy he knew.

Harry started talking. It took him nearly quarter hour to tell most of the things that happened. Naturally he left the part about absorbing parts of Riddle's soul out of his tale. Meanwhile, Minerva and Molly came back, with the deputy headmistress levitating Ron, whose left leg was broken. They had Lockhart in tow too. The DADA professor had finally managed to cast a successful spell: too bad for him that it backfired.

The witches came back in time to hear about the battle with the Slytherin's monster and the memory of Riddle.

"You saved her! You saved my daughter!" Molly exclaimed and tried to hug Harry to death. Fortunately, he was saved by the headmaster who was still providing first aid. The old wizard carefully stepped in the way of the grateful woman and prevented her from squeezing the life out of the Boy-Who-Lived. Harry gave a thankful nod to the Headmaster, whose eyes were twinkling with amusement.

After Molly calmed down, Potter continued with his tale. When he was over, Dumbledore was looking at him with deep frown. By then, Ron's leg was mended and he was dosed with Skele-Gro and Lockhart was napping under the influence of dreamless Sleep potion. Madam Pomfrey was patching up Harry's arm and the rest of the adults were looking at him strangely. It probably had something to do with the way he had told them what happened. The way he spoke was closer to an Auror giving an after action report than a twelve years old boy talking about a life or death struggle in which he had participated in just an hour ago.

Not to mention that there were a few important questions that needed answers beyond Harry's current behavior.

"If you are wondering..." Harry gave the leather bag that he was wearing to the Headmaster. "...how Voldie entrapped Ginny, it was his diary."

While Mr Weasley was trying to wrap his head around Harry's latest statement, Dumbledore wasted no time and after casting few detection spells on the bag, he retrieved the diary. He looked at it for a long moment and muttered quietly:

"He was one of the most brilliant students Hogwarts has ever seen..." He turned his heads to the Weasley's who were looking at him with confusion.

"Tom Riddle. I taught him myself. That was fifty years ago. After school he traveled far and wide. I lost track of him. Later, when he resurfaced, Tom was known as Lord Voldemort. Hardly anyone recognized the Dark Lord as the clever, handsome boy who used to be a Head boy here." He shook his head. "Molly, Arthur, I believe it will be for the best if you stay here with Ginevra and Ronald. Your daughter should be awakening soon. I need to secure the diary and this sword, which seems to be fond of Mr Potter."

However Madam Pomfrey had other plans.

"Albus, Mr Potter needs rest! He is exhausted and wounded!"

"I'll deposit him back here shortly, Poppy." Albus gave his best grandfatherly smile to the nurse, who had cleaned up and bandaged Harry's arm. Before Pomfrey could protest further, Fawkes had followed the wishes of his human and Potter and Dumbledore found themselves in the headmaster's office.

Dumbledore pointed at one of the chairs in front of his desk and made his way around to his own.

"Sit down, Harry."

Harry sat and Fawkes landed in his lap. The phoenix softly crooned at him and shamelessly demanded petting. Harry grinned at the fire bird and gently stroked his feathers.

The fact that Fawkes still liked the boy, gave a sense of profound relief to the headmaster. Albus complemented the loyalty and courage Harry must have shown in the chamber in order to call his familiar and the sword of Gryffindor.

Potter answered with curt nod. He glanced at the headmaster without meeting his eyes.

"Voldemort was interested in me. He said that I am like him..." Harry trailed off. Having the memories of young Tom Riddle, he could see the similarities in how both of them were raised. Lack of love and abuse though luckily enough where Harry was concerned the physical abuse was almost non-existent. Not that the routine starvation and emotional pain that his "relatives" reveled in causing him were something to be overlooked…

Dumbledore looked thoughtful.

"Did he now? And what do you think, my boy?"

Under different circumstances that might have been an innocent question. But now, Harry was closer to Voldemort than anyone else. Hell, he had merged with pieces of the soul of that madman!

"I don't think so professor. For one I am Gryffindor." Though now, that he was changed, he was great shoe-in for Slytherin. Suddenly the Lions were not looking so much brave and courageous. More like arrogant and thoughtless. At least a lot of them. Here, take this shiny, pointy sword and go charge that basilisk. Well, he did that. Without taking the sword first or making any meaningful preparation. Harry shuddered. By all rights he should be dead right now. 'Oh, yeah. I did die…'

"Professor," Harry started speaking after a moment of thought. "The Sorting Hat told me that I would do great in Slytherin. And because I can speak Parseltongue…," he paused, then, "everyone thought that I was Slytherin's heir." Well, now with Tommy not technically alive I am the heir. Even if the wanker was around and kicking, I might still be. Three victories in a row plus having a part of his magic... 'By the Right of Conquest I might be the heir of Slytherin too. Not to mention that I have parts of his soul grafted into mine…'

Dumbledore gave him some spiel about how Voldie had transferred some of his powers to Harry when he killed his mom and dad and tried to AK him. Well, now Harry knew that the bastard did much more than that.

"Voldemort put a bit of him in me?!" Harry feigned surprise. Apparently it was good enough.

"It appears so."

"So, I should be in Slytherin! The Sorting Hat saw it in me..." 'Salazar's house is what would suit me best these days. Besides it would give me great opportunities to drive Snape insane... Hm… Can I ask for resorting?!' Harry wondered.

"It put you in Gryffindor. While you have some qualities that Salazar Slytherin prized in his students, you were not placed in his house. Think about why that is, Harry."

'I met Draco, that git. Any House that he wasn't in sounded great at the time. It still does.'

"I asked it not to put me there."

"Exactly!" Dumbledore exclaimed. "It is our choices more than our abilities that define us. That is what makes you so very different from Voldemort!"

'Our choices, eh? Well, that is what makes me so similar to that wanker.' Harry mostly ignored Dumbledore while the old man told him to draw the sword and see the name which was encrusted in the blade. Godric Gryffindor. The headmaster pointed at the blade with a content smile.

"Only a true Gryffindor could have pulled that from the Hat, Harry."

For some time neither of them spoke after that. The headmaster was right in a way. Everything he said was all too true for the boy who entered the Chamber of Secrets. However, that was not the boy with who he was speaking now. That child, the paragon of Gryffindor never left the lair of Salazar Slytherin. He died a hero – saving an eleven year old girl from two deadly monsters. The Harry Potter who was now standing across the headmaster's desk was different. He was no hero.

Just a plain Harry with a bloody prophecy and damned Dark Lord hanging over his head.

"You need some food and sleep, Harry. You better go to the Great Hall for dinner. I need to write to Azkaban. We need our gamekeeper back. And I need to draft an advertisement for another DADA teacher..." The last sentence was muttered with a resigned tone.

Harry nodded and made his way to the exit. He had nearly reached the door when it exploded inward violently and barely missed his face before slamming in the wall with enough force to crack the wood.

A furious, Lucius Malfoy towered over the small form of Harry Potter. Behind the blond man was cowering, a small, wretched creature, who was covered with bandaged wounds. That was Dobby, the elf who in its attempts to protect Potter created no end of troubles for the boy.

For a long moment, Harry stayed frozen in place. His empty eyes gazed at the middle aged man.

Suddenly, Harry was looking at a much younger Lucius Malfoy. The scion of a Most Noble and Ancient house and three men wearing Death Eater garbs were surrounding four muggles. By the decor, Potter concluded that they were in the living room of the family. The only unmasked magical was Malfoy. This was the blond man's special day – his initiation in the Dark Lord's followers.

The father and four year old boy were screaming under the cruciatus curse. Malfoy paid no attention to the torture. He was too busy enjoying himself with the eleven years old girl while another death eater was raping the mother. Hours later after all the present death eaters had their fun, Malfoy put the husband under the imperio and watched with smile how the mind controlled man murdered his family before committing suicide.

Then Lucius kneeled in front of his lord.

"Good, Lucius. Good. Present your arm."

That's how Harry found out what someone must do to receive the Dark Mark. That the Imperio excuse was bullshit. You had not only to accept it willingly but to torture, rape and kill during your initiation. And like it all the way. All Harry could do was to glare balefully at Malfoy and fight with the overwhelming urge to AK or Crucio the utter bastard.

"Luciusss!" A quiet, barely perceptible hiss emanated from the lips of the enraged boy. Nevertheless it was a blood-chilling sound, full of fury and loathing. A sound that should have never left a human's lips. Fortunately it was not loud enough for the headmaster to overhear it. Even more importantly, Dumbledore was not able to see how Harry's eyes shone red for a second.

Malfoy on the other hand was close enough to hear and was watching the boy.

All color drained from the face of the blond man and it became whiter than chalk. It wasn't possible! Was his Lord possessing the Boy-Who-Lived?! Those eyes which for a moment were like on a serpent and were blazing bloody red just like Voldemort's...

"Lord Malfoy," Harry's words were dripping with sarcasm. "A clever little ploy, you've hatched. Getting into a fist fight with Arthur Weasley last summer. Passing one particular diary into his daughter's books…"

The blond man blanched.

"What is this nonsense, boy?" Malfoy spoke with surprisingly calm voice.

Harry grinned at him.

"What will your master think when he finds out that a precious object you were entrusted with, you in turn delivered in the hands of our illustrious headmaster?" Potter's sneer could rival the best of Snape's own attempts at the craft. The second year student pointed at Dumbledore's desk where the diary was clearly visible.

"Good evening, Lucius," the headmaster greeted. He was watching the by-play with vivid interest.

Malfoy ignored Dumbledore. His attention was solely upon Potter.

"Now that Riddle no longer inhabits the book, no one will be able to prove that you gave it to Ginny Weasley. Once again you escape the Ministry's justice. But if I know anything about your master, Voldemort won't be so merciful, will he?"

Harry took a step forward and whispered to Malfoy. "Luciusss. What would DMLE think if they find out about your initiation? How you tortured, raped and murdered those four muggles? Not to mention throwing crucios like candy and using imperio to force the husband to murdering his wife and children... You've been a bad boy, Luciusss…"

"Who are you?" Malfoy spat after taking a step back. He should be laughing at the way Potter was hissing. Yet there were his eyes, so similar to his masters… and his impossible knowledge...

"Harry Potter. Who else?" The Boy-Who-Lived replied innocently. "You better go home, Mr. Malfoy. But first you might give one of your gloves to Dobby. Now, Lucius." The last two words were given in a tone that was painfully familiar to Malfoy. It was the one Voldemort used just before he became rather liberal with the Crucio.

Lucius could not get his left glove off fast enough. He hastily peeled it from his hand and threw it at Dobby.

"Thank you, Lucius. Go home." Moments later, Malfoy could be seen running down the stairs.

The poor elf was looking incredulously at the article of clothing he had caught.

"Master is given a glove!" The little fella looked at it in wonderment. "Gave it to Dobby!" The elf started bouncing. "Dobby is FREE!" he shouted in excitement.

The elf gazed at Harry who was grinning at him.

"Harry Potter set Dobby free!"

"Dobby, how would you want to be my elf?"

The magical creature was rooted in place and looked incredulously at the boy.

"The great Harry Potter wants Dobby? As his personal elf?"

"That I do, my little friend."

The headmaster, who was shocked by Malfoy's actions, was too stunned to interfere with the bonding between Dobby and his new master. Harry's grin widened. A lot of his logistic problems were solved.

"Harry. Close the door and come back here. Our conversation is obviously not over," Dumbledore had gotten over his shock and wanted answers.

Harry took a deep breath. Was it too much to ask for a break?!

AN: Please Review!