Prologue

His chest begs for more every time he takes a gasping lungful of air, but there is no time to heed it. He is almost safe. Oxygen deprived lungs aren't the only body part complaining, and as he stumbles over an uneven pavement corner, a bruised, probably sprained, ankle cries out in a flash of pain. Harry nearly buckles onto the ground, however once the flare of pain has died into a steady ache, it spurs him on and the pavement disappears beneath his feet as he sprints towards the street corner.

The logical incentive is, every stride he runs is another not spent on the ground getting his other ankle stepped on. There are no more shouts from behind him, but experience has taught - that doesn't mean Dudley's gang have given up, just that they are as out of breathe as he is.

Grabbing the handy periwinkle blue letterbox proudly declaring itself first in gleaming bronze, he propels himself around the corner onto Wisteria Walk.

He runs down the street, until he sees the awful pale pink bricks of Mrs. Figgs house. With a quick glancing back, he can estimate twenty seconds before the quickest of the bunch, Piers Polkiss, catches up. He makes a sharp turn into the garden dashing past the shrubbery, leaps one-handed over the gate and quickly scrambles up the oak tree biting down on his lip as sharp pain hits him, weary battered arms protesting the misuse.

But he is up the tree and quickly positioned away from the road, trying desperately to calm his shuddering gasps of air, peering around the tree trunk, as Piers reaches the gate in the shrubbery red rat-like face scanning the front garden before turning back down the street.

"He's in here!" Piers shouts back at the group.

Harry shrinks back behind the tree, not daring another glance as he hears the rest of the group arrive, Dudley included, by the sounds of the wheezing. Harry closes his eyes and hopes. It's only been a since week since he was last stupid enough to get caught, if he gets caught today, it becomes highly likely that getting out of bed won't be possible in the morning.

"He went into the garden." The rat-like faced boy elaborates, rather unnecessarily, in Harry's silent opinion.

"Well let's... go... in!" Dudley manages to wheeze out. Impressive.

"But we don't know whose house it is?" Harry doesn't even recognise the voice of reason, which said a lot about how 'Harry Hunting' has escalated over the past few months.

Its wonders how much fun children have once they realise there are no consequences for their actions.

"Who cares?" His cousin was getting angry and, well, it is a bit funny that Dudley doesn't even know where Mrs. Figgs lives, considering it's where his cousin spends a good deal of time. "They surely wouldn't care about us taking the freak down-"

"-Exactly who is planning on breaking into my garden, children?"

Harry quietly sighed in relief as the boys scattered quickly.

"I can see you Harry Potter. It was rather lucky all those children haven't met their poor soulmates yet, you stand out against the green."

He winces but is grateful yet again for being the weird freak who can already see colour, because it has saved him, yet again. "Sorry Mrs Figgs-"

"-Oh it's alright, come down boy, I take it those other children weren't here for anything pleasant."

"Not really."

He carefully swings down from the lowest branch to see Mrs Figgs lined face looking troubled at him.

"If they bother you again, you are always welcome to run up my oak tree."

Harry blinked in surprise. Years of minding him for the Dursleys and this was probably the first time Mrs. Figgs had ever struck up a conversation with him not revolving around her cats.

"Thanks Mrs. Figgs but it's just a bit worse because it's near the end of school so I think they have been a bit more persistent than usual."

And they had been, probably because the summer holidays were nearly here and after them, Harry would finally be eleven and go to a different school where they couldn't have fun with their 'harry hunting'.

"More persistent than usual?"

Harry internally winced, carefully plastering on his best bright smile. "Usually they just call me names, they don't chase me down the street."

Mrs. Figgs relaxed. He shouldn't have said that, really, he knows better. If Mrs. Figgs tried to mention it to the Dursleys, it would mean the cupboard, a locked door and no food for at least a week.

"Well boy, since you are here, you can come in and look at my latest photos of Mr Paws. Nobody else appreciates the precise shade of caramel on his tail." Harry mentally groaned, but it was for the best. The harry hunting group would be trying to find him for at least another few hours.

"Sure Mrs. Figgs."

It's only a few months later, Harry watched the houses flash past out the window as the Hogwarts Express pulled away from London, his chest light with anticipation. Whatever was going to happen in the future, it couldn't be worse than what he was leaving behind.

"Are you really Harry Potter?" the redhead fidgeting with his shirt across from him in the compartment, blurted out.

Harry got the feeling it wasn't going to be the last time he was asked, as he nodded.

"Oh -well, I thought it might be one of Fred and George's jokes," said Ron. "And have you really got - you know..." The boy pointed at Harry's forehead.

Harry lifted his fringe.

Ron stared.

"So that's…"

"Yes." God, it was the first time and Harry was already tired of it. "But I can't remember anything."

"Nothing?" Ron asked eagerly.

"Well – I remember a lot of gre-a great lot of light." Harry internally cursed himself for the close save. He was already weird enough, being the Boy-Who-Lived. People didn't need to know he had already found and lost his soulmate as well.

"Wow," said Ron. He sat and stared at Harry for a few moments, then, as though he had suddenly realized what he was doing, he looked quickly out of the window again.

Harry's heart beat a little faster, as he made the first effort in years to start a conversation. Maybe he could make his first friend before he even reached his new magical school.

A few hours later, a girl with bushy-brown hair walks in, inquiring about a toad and Ron Weasley's monochromic world burst into brilliant, dazzling colour.

He smiles happily through burning jealously.

Almost two years later

The emerald eyes of the snake seemed to flicker with life.

"Open" tries Harry, in a low, faint hiss.

The serpents parted as the wall cracked open, the halves slid smoothly out of sight, and Harry slowly, very slowly walks inside.

He is standing at the end of a very long, dimly lit chamber. Towering stone pillars entwined with more carved serpents rose to support a ceiling lost in darkness, casting long, black shadows through the odd, greenish gloom that filled the place.

Heart beating swiftly, Harry stood listening to the silence. Could the basilisk be lurking in a shadowy corner, behind a pillar? And where was Ginny?

He pulled out his wand and moved forward between the serpentine columns. Every careful footstep echoed loudly off the shadowy walls. Then, as he drew level with the last pair of pillars, a statue high as the Chamber itself loomed into view, standing against the back wall. And between the feet, facedown, lay a small, black-robed figure with flaming-red hair.

"Ginny!" Harry muttered, sprinting to her and dropping to his knees. "Ginny- don't be dead- please please don't be dead -"

He flung his wand aside, grabbed Ginny's shoulders, and turned her over. Her face was white as marble, and as cold, yet her eyes were closed, she hadn't seen the Basilisk, wasn't petrified. But then she must be-

"Ginny, please wake up," Harry muttered desperately, shaking her. Ginny's head lolled hopelessly from side to side.

"She won't wake," said a soft voice.

Harry jolted and spun around on his knees.

A tall, dark-haired blue-eyed teenager in Slytherin robes was leaning against the nearest pillar, watching him... calmly? There was no discernable emotion. He was strangely blurred around the edges, as though Harry were looking at him through a misted window.

There was no mistaking him.

"Tom- Tom Riddle?"

Riddle nodded, not taking his eyes off Harry's face.

"What d'you mean, she won't wake?" Harry said desperately. "She's not- she's not-?"

"She's still alive," said Riddle, still expressionless. "But…" the older teenager trailed off, eyes widening fractionally.

Harry stared back at the elder boy. Tom Riddle had been at Hogwarts fifty years ago, yet here he stood, a weird, misty light shining about him, not a day older than sixteen.

"But?" he prompts as Riddle didn't continue- still gazing at him, no longer emotionlessly, but now something akin to surprise.

"But?" Riddles eyes narrowed, but he made no move to continue.

Ginny gave a little shudder from beside his knees. Panic heightened, the Gryffindor briefly put aside the odd circumstances.

"You've got to help me, Tom," Harry beseeched, gently raising Ginny's head again. "We've got to get her out of here. There's a basilisk. I don't know where it is, but it could be along any moment. Please, help me."

Riddle didn't move. Sweating, Harry managed to hoist Ginny half off the floor, and bent to pick up his wand again. He could levitate her body then- His hand froze.

There was flawlessly smooth chilling stone beneath his fingertips, but no wand.

With care he rested Ginny back on the ground and turned full attention for the first time from Ginny Weasley to Tom Riddle, the elder's piercing scrutiny rapidly turning sinister. Green eyes focused on long elegant fingers twirling the missing wand.

Riddle raised the wand- his wand, not towards Harry but in the direction of the far wall and gave it a little wave. Green fireworks appeared out the end, crackling and bursting, a twistedly cheerful sight against the black marble walls.

The silence stretched as the fireworks crackled merrily.

Riddle stared at the fireworks, and then at the wand. A look of incredulous disbelief, passing over his face, plain as day.

"Hate to interrupt the fireworks, but I really need my wand back." Harry stated firmly. There was something very wrong with this situation, the second year cursed himself for not being instantly weary of the impossible boy.

Riddle turns back towards him, wand still raised until it is pointing directly at Harry's chest.

"A pleasure to meet you, Harry Potter." Blue eyes gleamed at him, and Harry instantly took a step backwards, but before he could get a word out, there is a red light speeding directly at his chest. Dodging to the left there is nothing left to do but helplessly watch the well-aimed spell speed towards his chest. Then, there is nothing.

"Obliviate"