"Indeed, Potter," the teenager replied. "But I must admit I'm offended you don't recognize me. My future self and you had quite a remarkable encounter about twelve years ago..." Harry frowned.
"You are Voldemort?" The young Dark Lord remained stoic.
"I was, during my time at Hogwarts," he retorted. "But I shouldn't take up any more of your time; you're already twelve years late for a reunion with the so-called blood traitors you call your parents." Startled, Harry jumped back and took a defensive stance. Voldemort, however, ignored this as he turned to Salazar's statue, speaking in Parseltongue: "Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts four!" The gigantic statue opened its mouth, allowing passage into the depths of the Chamber.
"Here comes the basilisk," Harry whispered to himself, but the not-yet-corporeal Dark Lord heard him, eliciting a sinister chuckle.
"Do you truly believe a worthless half-blood can defeat the noble king of serpents? Just be a good little boy, as our esteemed headmaster wishes, and die to atone for your audacity to possess the noble gifts of Slytherin!" Harry shot him a venomous glare before closing his eyes tightly as the basilisk entered the Chamber. "Kill the boy!" Voldemort commanded. Gripping his wand, Harry steadied himself, listening intently for the giant serpent's approach.
"Lumos solaris!" he shouted, unleashing a blinding flash of light that temporarily obscured the sight of anyone whose eyes were open—even those of the basilisk. The creature let out an enraged hiss, thrashing blindly in search of the source of the offense. Seizing the opportunity, Harry unstrapped the rifle from his back and aimed it at where he estimated the serpent's head to be.
"No, no, no, Potter, you've been a bad boy playing with Muggle toys." Young Voldemort mocked him, having regained his sight. "I'll be taking that from you." He drew Ginny's wand. "Finite!" The rifle resisted for a moment before dissolving into thin air.
"Damn!" Harry swore, diving behind a nearby pillar as the basilisk, still blind, swung its head in his direction. Voldemort wasn't finished, however; he sent an Expelliarmus spell flying toward Harry just as the boy jumped... To his surprise, Harry managed to evade it, but the next disarming charm caught him, sending his wand flying straight into Voldemort's grasp while throwing Harry to the floor.
"Now, let's see how famous Harry Potter fares against the great basilisk Slytherin left to guard Hogwarts against filthy mudbloods! Show me your power, Potter! You didn't have a wand that night, so why should you need one now?" Voldemort taunted. Harry wanted to retaliate that Voldemort's defeat on that fateful Halloween night was due to his mother's sacrifice, but wisely remained silent to avoid revealing his position to the basilisk.
Suddenly, a bright flash of fire erupted from above, drawing everyone's attention upward, revealing a ceiling adorned with serpents. It was a phoenix, grasping the Sorting Hat in its talons, that swooped down toward Harry, dropping its burden into his hands before darting away to confront the serpent.
As Fawkes attacked the basilisk—impervious to its deadly gaze—Harry seized his chance to study the Sorting Hat, searching for answers as to why it had appeared.
"If you want to die there, Mr. Potter, keep staring at me," the Hat admonished, glaring at him. Harry shot back an irritated look, annoyed by its lack of helpful advice.
"And what am I supposed to do with you? Put you on my head?" he hissed, unaware the basilisk might overhear him. The hat's fabric indicated clear annoyance.
"Well, Mr. Potter, if you have other uses for hats..." it shot back, still glaring. With a tilt of his head, Harry shrugged and placed it upon his head. 'Hmm...I still hold to my earlier assessment of your character, Mr. Potter: but for your impulsiveness, you might do quite well in Slytherin. However...' The hat paused for a moment before continuing. 'I'm not here to assess that... Even though you're fighting for Hogwarts, not as selflessly as Godric would have liked, you remain an honorable young man... It is decided: the legacy of Gryffindor will assist you.' Moments later, something heavy struck Harry on the head from inside the Hat.
"Ouch!" he yelped. "What was that for?" When no answer came, he lifted the Sorting Hat and discovered a broadsword sliding out from it, its handle landing precisely between his legs. The sword was forged from a silvery-blue metal, its dark-brown leather wrapped grip culminating in an immense egg-shaped ruby. Its blade was unembellished save for a name carved in Gothic letters near the guard: Godric Gryffindor.
Though Harry had little experience wielding bladed weapons, this sword was now his only chance. Plus, it likely carried enchantments preventing summoning or disarming spells...
Shaking off the gift from the Sorting Hat, Harry noticed he'd been lost in thought while battle raged around him. He could see flashes of magic indicating that Voldemort was attempting to fend off Fawkes as the great serpent dodged the firebird's relentless attempts to strike.
"Why do you keep interfering, you stupid burnt chicken!" Voldemort screamed in frustration, unleashing several Bombarda curses. Fawkes, attempting to avoid the serpent's tail, wasn't able to evade them all; one struck his wing, sending him crashing against the Chamber wall. Just as the basilisk prepared to finish him off, Voldemort intervened. "You can feast on the bird later. Kill the boy!" he commanded in Parseltongue. Spurred into action, Harry dashed down the nearest archway leading out of the Chamber.
"Run, Potter, run," Voldemort cackled. "You cannot escape your death; I control the Chamber!"
Harry sprinted for his life, the basilisk on his heels, his escape only assured by the twists and turns of the tunnels. Though his focus remained on fleeing the deadly serpent, his mind raced for a strategy.
He pondered methods to slay the basilisk with Gryffindor's sword; stabbing the creature seemed ideal, but he doubted he could achieve that and walk away unscathed. Throwing the blade was equally foolish... If only he still possessed his wand...
A thought struck him: Gryffindor's broadsword was enchanted and could serve as a channel for his magic. However, he had no clue how to cast spells with a sword, and stopping to work it out would be a death sentence. Hm... There were a couple of simple spells that he might attempt without halting. Desperately hoping for success, he gripped the broadsword with an inverted hold—the blade lighter than it appeared—and pointed it in the general direction of the basilisk pursuing him.
"Lumos solaris!" A flash of light erupted, less intense than his wand, but still effective. Moments later, he heard the basilisk crashing into the walls of the tunnel, disoriented from the sudden brightness. Taking advantage of this confusion, Harry conjured up another spell with the sword: "Atero!" A black smokescreen enveloped the space between him and the basilisk. It wouldn't be sufficient to halt the creature, but hopefully, it would buy him precious time to find a way to defeat it before being discovered.
Unfortunately, Voldemort hadn't simply remained in the Chamber (and Harry hadn't heard a thing from him) and had some control over the Chamber's passages. Soon enough, Harry found himself in a dead end. Having seen no fork in the path, he knew his fate was all but sealed. But that didn't mean he would go down without a fight!
With few options remaining, he pointed the sword toward the approaching basilisk and closed his eyes, listening intently… It was mere moments before he heard the serpent slithering closer.
"Petrificus totalus!" Harry called out, launching the full body-bind curse at the basilisk. There was no point in hiding—he knew the beast could see and smell him. Unsurprisingly, the curse had no effect; the serpent kept advancing. "Defigo!" He sent a simple piercing curse toward it, which elicited a pained hiss from the beast—clearly, he had struck true.
Hastily, Harry opened his eyes in exhilaration but immediately regretted it when he glimpsed the basilisk, now closer and preparing to swallow him whole...
Suddenly, it dawned on him: Voldemort hadn't feared staring into the basilisk's eyes because, like him, he was a Parselmouth. He was, more or less, immune to the basilisk's deadly gaze! Regrettably, that knowledge held little weight at this instant—the basilisk lunged.
Instinct took over as Harry raised the sword, leaning back and to the side in a desperate attempt to avoid being consumed…
"Aagh!" he screamed, searing pain coursing through him as one of the basilisk's sword-like fangs slashed across his forehead, through his right eye, and down toward his stomach, halting perilously near his liver… But the sword found its mark, piercing the roof of the serpent's mouth, its venom sac, and into its brain. And since basilisks weren't immune to their own venom, death seized the creature within twenty seconds.
Harry had little time left as he sensed death creeping in from the basilisk's venom. Just as the serpent's convulsing body fell still, an excruciating pain erupted from his scar, and that was the last thing he registered…
Harry groaned wearily back to consciousness, his head spinning like a balloon on the verge of popping, though the agony from the wound was gone. His right eye lay destroyed, and his left could barely discern anything, but he caught sight of something red and gold near his shoulder, alongside the lifeless body of the basilisk... Miraculously, he survived.
Turning his head slowly to the right in defiance of his body's protests, Harry was met with the sight of a large bird—his vision clearing gradually—perched on the floor, watching him intently. Despite the foggy state of his mind, he comprehended what had transpired: Fawkes the phoenix had wept on his wound, and its tears had saved him.
"Thank you," the Boy Who Lived—again—managed to rasp before forcing himself into a sitting position. He had no idea how much time had elapsed since he had left the Chamber, but he needed to return swiftly to stop Voldemort from completing his resurrection… but how?
His head was a tumultuous blend of scrambled memories and emotions that, despite everything, undoubtedly wasn't his, mingled with flashes of memories that should belong to him but felt foreign... Setting aside the mystery of these memories, Harry focused on identifying any pertinent information that might be useful against the resurgent Dark Lord.
Surprisingly, he found something: vague recollections of various objects, one of which resonated with familiarity—the diary he had seen in Voldemort's pocket back in the Chamber. Following this thread, he unearthed another memory about something referred to as 'horcrux.' Making sense of it was no easy task, given his current condition, yet he managed to glean essential information:
A 'horcrux' was a fragment of one's soul tethered to an object, separate from one's body. 'Horcruxes' were believed (by whoever the memories belonged to) to be a means of achieving immortality... While it was possible to destroy a horcrux, it required either fiendfyre, the Avada Kedavra curse, basilisk venom, or a complex ritual...
That information was somewhat beneficial—a source of basilisk venom was merely feet away—the dead serpent queen lying just within reach. The dilemma: the venom still resided within the beast's poison glands. Harry contemplated how to extract this venom effectively, recalling that Gryffindor's sword, a goblin-made adamant weapon, harbored a magical property that enabled it to absorb whatever it came into contact with; the sword had pierced the basilisk's poison gland. Good.
As he pondered, his body regained enough strength to move more or less normally. Slowly pulling the sword from the serpent's head, Harry stood and began walking back toward the Chamber while Fawkes circled him overhead, singing a soothing melody that infused him with energy.
~/ *** \~
In the Chamber of Secrets, a yet-to-be-fully corporeal Voldemort leaned against one of the numerous stone columns, waiting for the basilisk's return. He'd expertly guided the filthy half-blood Potter into a corner, convinced there was no way the boy would survive an encounter with the legendary serpent, even with that accursed firebird interfering…
Yet, young Voldemort soon realized he had underestimated the son of the mudblood Evans. Covered in blood, missing his right eye, and clad in torn robes, Harry walked into the Chamber, broadsword gripped tightly in his hands.
"You win this round, Potter," Voldemort hissed in Parseltongue. "But you will die by my hand!" Drawing both wands—his own in his left hand, Ginny's in his right—the Dark Lord cast identical Avada Kedavra curses. Harry barely dodged the twin streams of sickly-green light by dropping to the ground, pointing the sword at Voldemort.
"Defigo!" A red beam from the sword struck Voldemort's protective shield, causing it to flicker momentarily, allowing Harry to create a smokescreen with an Atero spell. The incensed Dark Lord unleashed a flurry of killing curses into the black mist, but each one missed its target. He had thrown too many high-level spells in quick succession, leaving him fatigued and vulnerable.
It was precisely the opening Harry had awaited, and he surged out from the smoke. "Defigo!" Though Voldemort lazily erected a shield to counter the weak curse, he swiftly dropped it the instant the body-bind curse impacted it.
"Dodge this, Potter! Avada Kedavra!" Fawkes materialized in front of Harry, absorbing both killing curses before erupting into a cloud of ash. The momentary distraction diverted Voldemort's attention. Seizing the opportunity, Harry lunged forward, slashing the sword at him and managing to damage the diary in one of Voldemort's pockets. "Wha—?" was all the Dark Lord could utter before he wailed in agony as a golden gash opened across his chest, dark-red ink streaming from the damaged diary.
"Die, Tom!" Harry shouted—somehow knowing Voldemort's true name—plunging the sword through the diary, creating another devastating golden wound on Voldemort's form. Within moments, the wounds inflicted upon this horcrux-affected version of Voldemort expanded massively until nothing remained but a blood-curdling scream. Two wands and a destroyed diary fell to the Chamber floor, shortly followed by Harry, who collapsed beside them as Godric Gryffindor's sword vanished, returning to its rightful place.
Shortly after his forced rebirth, Fawkes extended his wings and soared upwards. The majestic phoenix retrieved the two wands, delivering them to their rightful owners, before fire-flashing Ginny and then Harry to the hospital wing. With the task complete, Fawkes returned to the Chamber and, seizing the diary, fire-flashed to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom to inform Dumbledore that the Heir of Slytherin had been vanquished.