The first sight Harry was greeted by was darkness. Then, everything rushed forward into his brain, like a thousand starbursts.

"Fuuuuack!!" Harry yelled hoarsely. His voice was raw, even to him. He shot up in the white hospital bed. White washed walls greeted him from every side.

The place was unfamiliar to him. He heisitantly felt at his eyes. There was a large, white bandages covering them. So then...

How could he still see?

There were auras everywhere. Harry could see the walls glowing with thin layers of power. Yellow, purple, all sorts of colors. He concentrated, since it could not really be called squinting since his eyes were covered. There were tiny runes, flowing slowly like molasses through the layers, like a finely embroidered tapestry.

Harry tried not to hyperventilate as he gathered his panicked thoughts. The last memory he had was stabbing Riddle's diary in the Chamber. He would understand if this was the Hospital Wing, but this was so obviously not.

Harry took a gander at his surroundings. There was a nightstand. Other than that, there were a few chairs, but the room was completely spartan excepting that.

Wait, there was a IV drip on his arm. He concentrated on the bag, trying to make out the small text.

There was a small list of scientific names of ingredients, that Harry didn't bother trying to decipher. Matt was the Potions whiz, not him.

How fitting, that the next words he read were-

Patent: Cooke It Up, Nourishment Potion, Level Three dose.

The words tickled something at the back of his mind. Matt's dad owned the famous Potions company, and he supplied to-

St. Mungo's! Roger Davies had said that. Harry recalled it now. So he was in St Mungo's. Fitting, he supposed, considering he had basilisk venom injected into his arm.

Just as Harry's thoughts turned that way, a nurse bustled in. Even she seemed different, with a distinct white aura glowing off of her. She nearly dropped her clipboard when she saw him.

"Mr Potter!" She practically screamed.

"How-" Harry broke off in a racking coughing fit. "H-How long have I been in here?" Harry asked hoarsely.

The nurse looked like she was going to faint. "I-you-well-!"

"How long?" Harry demanded.

"I'm getting the doctor!" She shrilled, before backing out the door and slamming it shut.

Harry sat there, quite annoyed. He took went over a few Occlumency excercises. His mental shields seemed just as strong as ever. That was good, he supposed. No one had mind raped him, like Dumbledore or Snape.

The door opened, and a white robed woman stepped in, carrying another clipboard.

"It's nice to see you awake, Mr Potter." She offered, checking a few things on her clipboard with her quill.

"Will somebody please tell me how long I've been here?" Harry snapped. The mediwitch eyed him as one would view a rabid dog.

"Are you feeling any sickness, any queasiness,-?"

"How long?" Harry demanded once more. The witch sighed.

"I'm going to have to ask you to try to take deep breaths and try not to panic-"

"How. The. Fuck. Long?" Harry hissed.

"You've been in a coma for ten months." Harry was shocked into cold numbness.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The days after that were spent in a sort of dreamlike state. Harry felt the world pass by in a phantasmogoric way.

The question of his stay had been first. Apparently, he had barely survived the basilisk venom. The venom had already spread to his eyes and brain. Only the combination of Fawkes phoenix tears, which arrived a tad late, and Matt sucking the poison out on the spot stopped him from kicking it completely. Matt had been hospitalized for a short bit due to the exposure, but recovered completely.

Harry had smiled slightly when he heard that. Somehow, he could see Matt doing something stupid like that.

His parents and Henry visited, something that was torture for every second. He did learn some suprising news. Apparently, Henry had fed them some cock and bull story that he had pulled the sword out of the hat. James Potter had always boasted about being related to the Gryffindor lineage.

The sword had seemingly given them enough pull, along with some political juggling from Dumbledore, to claim the Gryffindor properties and fortune. Harry was not suprised. No doubt people saw it fit that the Boy Who Lived was naturally related to the founder of the House of the courageous and brave.

So the Potters were now the most wealthy family in Britain. Harry had made a mental note to visit the family library and trophy room. Lily had said that they had moved all the texts and artifacts from Gryffindor's vault there.

Those artifacts were the only plus side to that, besides one thing. Now, Ginny was even more clingy to Henry than before. Harry smirked evilly. She had been a fangirl before. Now she was borderline obsessive-compulsive.

Then, Dumbledore had arrived, to offer his condolences and congradulations on recovery. Harry had tried as hard he could to tune out the sound of the man's voice. Not to much effect, since the old coot loved the sound of his own voice more than he likely did those retarded lemon drops he raved about constantly.

The only visit he really paid attention to was that of his friend's.

Matt had come first. He looked a bit taller. Harry was sure that his face had lengthened slightly. He looked more mature, certainly. And the ever present light of mischief in his eyes had dimmed somewhat, to a more solemn look that left Harry a bit unnerved.

And for the first time between them, talk came haltingly, awkwardly.

"You didn't miss much." Matt had started. His voice had gotten even deeper. "The year was pretty basic. Snape was a ass, as usual. I dropped a dungbomb in his storeroom, once." Matt smiled slightly. "Your dad's friend, Lupin, taught the year at DADA. He's starting on some sort of final, obstacle course of an exam. He was a pretty decent teacher, compared to Lockhart, but I guess that's not much of a comparison. You'll probably miss it, because of rehab, and all."

It was true. Harry's body was pretty much like jelly from all the disuse. Nourishment potions could keep you alive, but they couldn't retain muscles. Harry was going to have a bitch of a summer working them all up again.

"Slytherin won the House Cup. But we won the Quiddich Cup, which counts for something, I guess. The tests are all going to be easy, so don't sweat studying. The grading system sucks, anyway." Harry nodded in agreement.

There was a somewhat strained silence. "Matt?" Harry asked.

"What?"

"Something's bothering me. I know Fawkes was right there in the Chamber. He dropped the Hat right on me. Why did it take so long to get those tears to me?"

Matt seemed to writhe in his seat. "Well, um..."

It spoke for itself. "Dumbledore?"

Matt let out a slow, easy sigh. "Yes. I questioned Fawkes after the incident. It's a shame, what Dumbledore did the creature. It's hardly a phoenix anymore, more just a personal yes-bird for Dumbledore. Basically, Dumbledore gave it orders to save Henry. He helped you on the way, but..."

"Then he went to pick up Henry and Ron." Harry finished. His voice was quiet and dark.

"Yeah. That's why it took so long to get back. I,-" Matt seemed to struggle for words. "I tried to-"

"Forget it, Matt. You did everything you could." Harry replied flatly. "If you start beating yourself up about this, I'm going to kick your ass."

A knot of tension seemed to drain out of Matt. His shoulders relaxed. Harry could see exactly how much his words meant to him, even without saying.

"How?" Matt asked jokingly. "You're going to be a pile of weaksauce once you get out of here. You'll probably kick your own ass by accident."

The bandages obscured it, but Harry narrowed his eyes. "Just keep telling yourself that, asshat. Just wait until I get back." Matt laughed.

"Looking forward to it. Oh, wait, hey!" Matt muttered. He started rummaging through the pockets of the brown duster he was wearing. "I...made you...that wand...I was talking about. From my gramp's secret journals and all that."

"Really?" Harry was truely interested this time. It would relieve the tedium a great deal if he could at least practice magic while he was waiting.

His delusion was promptly stomped on. "I only get to show it to you. No wands until you're fully up and about. Damn, where is it?" Matt muttered.

"Your right inner pocket." Harry supplied helpfully. He could see it, the pulsing straight gray aura from within his jacket.

That was the other interesting thing that had appeared out of the exchange. Harry had gone blind, during his coma, for what the healers could see, because of the venom. But somehow, out of the exchange, Harry had acquired second sight.

It was very rare, but not unheard of. Several noted wizards had had second sight, such as Nicholas Flamel, even more famous, Salazar Slytherin himself. Merlin himself had had second sight.

Second sight occurred when a person's magic took the place of the occular nerves, supplying the images in lieu of the eyes. Blindness was one known trigger, as it was by no means hereditary. A person's magical cores actually took the magic from external sources, and used it to create images.

The colors of people were very pale, but now, Harry could see in the dark as well as he could in broad daylight. Also, he could see magical signatures, such as that of a wand, a person, or wards, like those St Mungos had in place to protect the patients, to ensure privacy, or even just the standard one's that kept earthquakes and other natural disasters from affecting the place.

Some of the best Curse-Breaker's, and Ward Masters had second sight. Harry could see how useful it would be in such a profession.

"Thanks." Matt muttered. He reached in, and pried a thin wooden tube out of his coat. He picked at the edge of the binding, and let it fall open.

Inside, there was a magnificent wand. The casing was clear white, with a grip of a sea green scaly substance, along with a crest of glittering crystals as a hilt. The end was carved into a spade-like shape, and the tip looked sharp enough to stab someone as well as shoot a spell.

"Behold." Matt let out easily, sounding very smug with himself. "The casing's from the basilisk fang, ironically enough. That grip's made out of the kraken skin I got in the first year, bound together by unicorn hairs."

"What about those crystals?" Harry asked, a slight tone of respect in his voice. His friend had really outdone himself this time.

Matt grinned. "Phoenix tears. They actually revert to a crystalline state upon contact with non organtic substances. I guilt-tripped Fawkes into crying them for me, since he felt bad about leaving you to get Henry. He's still a phoenix under all that coot's manipulations, and they are creatures of the Light."

"You are a criminal mastermind. And the core?"

"The phoenix feather from your old wand. I snagged it before we left. Funny enough, it's also from Fawkes. He told me so. I figured a core you're used to working with would be better than a new one."

Harry reached out and grasped the wand. Immidiately, a pulse of his own magic flowed into the wand, and a indescribable feeling of good, of rightness overcame Harry, almost as if the wand had always been waiting for him. Harry let out a brief sigh as he reliquished his hold.

"Thanks, Matt. I can't tell you how much it means for me." Matt flapped a hand at him.

"No problem. Gotta go, Professor Flitwick only gave me and Luna permission to see you because we've been good boys and girls all year." Matt got up, and opened the door. He stopped for a minute in the doorway. "Oh, forgot to tell you. Dad's been hearing some wierd stuff about next year. Something about them cancelling the Quiddich, and reinstating some old custom. I have no inkling why they would do that, but just thought you might want to know."

Harry shrugged, and Matt nodded, before twisting slightly to let Luna pass in. She took a seat where Matt previously had, fidgeting slightly. Matt gave them both a saucy grin before closing the door.

Luna seemed to have a internal conflict. She started fidgeting worse. "I-"

"Don't." Harry stopped her before she even began. "If you're here to apologize for the fang in my arm, then walk out that door. You were under the influence of the diary the entire time. I never held you responsible for that, and I never will."

Unlike most men, women had a different form of gratitude than playful ribbing. This Harry found out very fast.

Namely, when Luna shot out of her chair and hugged him with all her might. Which was a suprising amount, which Harry also found out.

She was crying, that much Harry could tell. Awkwardly, Harry wrapped a heisitant arm around her back, patting her in what he hoped was a soothing manner.

You want to decipher a lost text? He could do that. You want to create a spell that can wipe out a dragon in one hit? Give him enough time and someone with enough juice to cast it, sure. You want to comfort a crying women? Then you were flat out of luck.

From what Harry could understand between her burying her head in his chest and crying, she had been worried, there was something about it being all her fault mixed in there, and those two were generally the most repeated in her fit.

He tried to approach this logically, by ruling out those first. "Luna, I'm fine now. Nothing that happened a year ago matters now. Could you please stop crying?"

Well, bang went that plan. There was no visible change in her rate of tear flow or grip. He settled for holding her and petting her hair until she stopped. The petting, of course, was all part of getting her to stop. It had nothing to do with how soft her hair was or how nice it smelled.

Right.

Her tears eventually dried up, until she was just laying there on top of him, sniffling every once in a while. He didn't stop petting her hair, either. What if she began again? He wouldn't want that. Not one bit.

She had grown too, he realized. Her face was fuller, more defined, with high cheekbones and much less baby fat. Her silvery eyes were definately bigger than before, though that could be a result of the crying. Also, evidence of her growth was pressing into him, along with sticking out back, in her painfully tight looking jeans. Luna had really burst in to full bloom.

She placed her chin on his chest, gazing up at him. The redness in her cheeks was receding.

"So-" Harry attempted to normalize things. "-tell me about school."

"Well...Matt probably told you some." Harry nodded. "I guess I'll go anyway, and see if I don't bore you to death." She tried jokingly.

"I doubt you could." Harry answered.

"Well...other than schoolwork, Cho's been waiting for Cedric all year. He's still trying to work up the guts to ask her out. Susan's stayed pretty level, but she's been giving Neville Longbottom the eye for a while."

"That pudgy kid in Gryffindor?" Harry asked. Luna nodded.

"Dunno why she'd want him, but there it is." Luna replied.

The door creaked open, and both their heads whipped around.

Professor Flitwick was standing there, looking rather embarressed. Harry suddenly realized that the position they were in, her laying on top of him and gazing up on him, might considered by some to be very compromising.

Luna apparently realized this as well, as she was off him so fast that she might have never been there, standing by the bed and smoothening her ruffled shirt.

"Erhm...well." Flitwick began. "The visiting hours are almost over...I could ask them for more time, if you'd like?" He offered quickly. Luna's cheeks flushed red, and she shook her head quickly. "Oh...ehm..." Flitwick seemed unsure of what to say.

"I'll be out in a moment, Professor." Luna assured him. Flitiwick bobbed his head so fast Harry thought for a moment he might snap his small neck, before quickly beating a tactical retreat. As soon as the door clicked shut, she turned back to him.

"I never did thank you for saving me." Harry scooted slightly away. There was something in that devillish grin she had on that made alarm klaxons go off in his head.

"It's alright, you reallydon'tnneedto-"

He got cut off, as Luna slithered like a eel stright up to his bedside, and kissed him full on the lips, holding his head still with both of her hands.

Harry had just enough time to wonder how the hell this had happened, before it was over.

And for the second time in his life, he was struck speechless.

"See you at school, Harry." She giggled slightly and closed the door.

Harry sat, transfixed, on the bed.

He finally managed to get something out.

"Cherry." He murmured, touching his lips.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry only barely managed to get back to school in time before the quarters ended. When he got back, he immidiately noticed something.

He wasn't known as the Heir anymore.

He later learned that Dumbledore had emancipated him in the newspapers. It had confused him, until he realized the reason. He couldn't have such a scandalous link to the House of Slytherin connecting to his picture perfect Light family. And now he was in the man's debt, something that rose such utter feelings of disgust that he knew he would no choice but to discharge it as soon as possible.

Matt had been right; The end of year exam had been so pathetic, he hadn't even needed to take in the summer, as they offered to do. The looks on their faces as the graded the papers still brought a sardonic smile to his face.

Harry slowly limped through the hall. He had refused crutches from a combination of his own pride and a instinctive need to do things independantly. Having Malfoy call him 'gimpy' has quite possibly the most funny experience in his life, as it demonstrated how childish and unimaginative the blond rat was.

It was the last day at school, the night right before the feast in the morning where Dumbledore would announce the scores and the winner of the House Cup. Matt had not been far off. Slytherin was in the lead by at least a hundred points, so the outcome of the Cup was blindingly obvious. Harry's consolation was that Ravenclaw was in second, which was not so bad.

For everyone else in the castle, this was party night; As was customary on the last night, the curfew had been lifted and everyone was in abandoned classrooms with their click of friends, celebrating with butterbeer and Exploding Snap and illegal firewhiskey and more often than not erotic party games. Harry had declined partying with Matt, Luna, Cedric, Cho, Susan(Who had dragged Neville into it), and Mariette. Normally, he would be all for doing so, but he had something more important to do.

Harry slowly pushed the door to the girl's bathroom open.

People had tried to open the Chamber; it was evident in all the tables brought in, with hastily drawn notes all over them, and the numerous spells that left still evident residues on the sinks. Harry was not suprised. After all, when a legendry secret place in one of the most magical castles in Britain was opened, treasure hunters were soon to follow. Harry did not blame them. After all, it was his intention as well. Too bad he was the only Non-Dark Lord Parcelmouth in the world, as far as he knew.

Harry once again thanked his lucky stars that the hole had closed of it's own accord. Slytherin wouldn't want anyone finding out about his little hidey hole, after all.

"Open. Stairs." Harry hissed. The sinks parted, and the hole widened, and the revolving stairs. Harry took a single step onto one of the stairs, before a idea struck him.

"Move."

The stairs jerked forward, slowly revolving Harry down the chasm. Harry smiled; It seemed that there were escalators, they were simply not called so.

The ride went suprisingly fast, and instead of down the hall from the Chamber, it brought him directly in front of the great golden door, which was still ajar, seeing as no one had closed it.

Harry slowly limped past the crushed busts and statues. A reeking stench filled his nose. It soon became obvious what it was.

The basilisk still lay there, it's gargatuan corpse covering the mouth of Slytherin. Covering his destination. Harry smirked.

"Even in death, you serve your master." Harry laughed, his dry chuckle lingering in the greenish gloom.

But in reality, it posed a true problem. He doubted he would be able to levitate it, which left either pushing it aside or blasting it to pieces. And seeing as he did not posess the strength of a mountain troll, that left one option.

Harry drew his new wand and took careful aim at one of the gashes in it's side, figuring it would be weakest there.

"Sorry old chap," Harry muttered. "But I really need to know what you were guarding." Time to test Matt's boast of Cooke wands. "Reducto!"

The red Blasting curse left the wand with a large bang, like a shotgun being fired. It looked no bigger than a regular one. Harry had a brief moment to wonder if this was some elaborate prank by Matt when the bolt struck.

In a large explosion of gore, the basilisk's midsection exploded, raining organs and blood all over. Harry only had just enough time to call "Protego!" Before the irediscent blue shield began deflecting chunks of meat the size of his head to the side.

Harry was truely impressed; to make a blast like that himself, he would've needed to take at least twice as much magic. It seemed the wand really did amplify the effects.

As Harry released the shield, he realized immidiately that the stench was even worse. Harry wrinkled his nose as he picked his way among the entrails of the basilisk.

"Don't go anywhere now, I might need your venom or such later." Harry informed the basilisk's upper half, as he came to stand in front of the closed mouth of Salazar Slytherin.

"Speak to me, Salazar Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts four." Harry whispered. The mouth ground open, and Harry stepped inside.

Harry found himself in a magnificent construct. A three story library, made of ornate carved stone. From what Harry could see, a large opening in the wall to the left was where the basilisk slept. The walls were ingraved in fine gold and the occasional jewel, usually diamonds or emeralds, likely the green silver fetish that had began the Slytherin house.

Inset in the walls, were thousands of books. Likely more than even the Potter library, though, with the new addition, he wasn't quite so sure. In front of him, there was a large round stone table, with various books opened and strewn across it, collecting dust. Harry took one more moment to appreciate this, before ascending the winding golden stairwell to his right, up to the second floor.

The second floor was much the same. Harry's second sight could see dozens of wards, all over the walls, for longetivity, to keep away moths, to keep dust from the books in the shelves. There were a few differences.

For one, in the middle of the stone chair, there was a finely bound black diary, on a glass pedestal. Harry took a brief glance at it. It was already flipped to the last page.

And as I leave this world, I leave all this to you, nameless decsendant. So says I, Salazar Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts four...

Harry let the smile widen across his face. This was it.

This was Voldemort's secret source of strength, of hidden knowledge, how he had risen so fast in the ranks of the wizarding world. Decades of lost knowledge, Harry could feel pulsing within these forgotten tomes, begging to be known.

Voldemort had stolen from him. Stolen something too precious and fragile for words. He had stolen a year of Harry's life.

A year with his friends, a year lost of learning. A year of missed opourtunities. A year without Luna and Matt. Of all the commodoties in the world, wizarding or Muggle, the most precious by far was time. And for that, he would pay.

He would pay with his life.