Chapter 1
Godric Gryffindor or Fawkes as he was now known as Dumbledore's phoenix, was hidden from view in an alcove from where he had often shared conversation with the man trapped within the basilisk. He watched the confrontation between young Harry Potter and Tom Riddle, who wasn't quite human anymore.
There was a brief pause as Harry's brain seemed to have jammed. Potter stared numbly at Riddle, at the orphaned boy who had grown up to murder Harry's own parents, and so many others…
At last, the young Gryffindor forced himself to speak, "You're not," he said, his quiet voice full of hatred.
"Not what?" snapped Riddle.
"Not the greatest sorcerer in the world," said Harry, breathing fast. "Sorry to disappoint you, but Albus Dumbledore is the greatest wizard in the world. Everyone says so. Even when you were strong, you didn't dare try and take over at Hogwarts. Dumbledore saw through you when you were at school, and he still frightens you now, wherever you're hiding these days-"
The smile had gone from Riddle's face to be replaced by a horrid look, "Dumbledore's been driven out of this castle by the mere memory of me!"" he hissed.
"He's not as gone as you might think!" Harry retorted. He was speaking randomly, wanting to scare Riddle, wishing rather than believing it to be true.
Godric grasped the bundle in his talon tighter and began to sing. Memories of a past life swam through Godric's mind, drawing parallels to another stubborn black-haired little boy he knew once.
The music was growing louder. It was eerie, spine-tingling, and unearthly; it lifted the hair on Harry's scalp and made his heart feel like it was swelling to twice its normal size. Then, as the music reached such a pitch that Harry felt it vibrating inside his ribs, flames erupted at the top of the nearest pillar.
A crimson bird, the size of a swan, had appeared, piping its weird music to the vaulted ceiling. It had a glittering golden tail as long as a peacock's and gleaming golden talons.
A second later, the bird was flying straight at Harry. It dropped what it was carrying at his feet, then landed heavily on his shoulder. As it folded its great wings, Harry looked up and saw it had a long, sharp golden beak and a beady black eye.
The bird stopped singing. It sat still and warm next to Harry's cheek, gazing steadily at Riddle.
Godric stared, ignoring the painful jolts from being near the diary. It was wrong and tainted beyond belief, but Gryffindor knew he needed to be here, so he braved his way through it.
"That's a phoenix," said Riddle, staring shrewdly back at it.
"Fawkes?" Harry breathed. Godric flexed his golden claws to squeeze the boy's shoulder gently.
"And that —" said Riddle, now eyeing the ragged thing that Fawkes had dropped, "that's the old school Sorting Hat —"
So it was. The Hat lay motionless at Harry's feet, patched, frayed, and dirty.
Riddle began to laugh again. He laughed so hard that the dark chamber rang as though ten Riddles were laughing at once.
Had Godric been a man, he would have smirked. The whelp didn't know what he was facing. Harry Potter had a Founder on his shoulder and one of the most legendary weapons of the Wizarding World at his feet.
The bird ignored the barbs the two traded, keeping an ear cocked for Salazar's movements.
Harry stood, tense, waiting for Riddle to raise his wand. But Riddle's twisted smile was widening again.
"Now, Harry, I will teach you a little lesson. Let's match the powers of Lord Voldemort, Heir of Salazar Slytherin, against the famous Harry Potter and the best weapons Dumbledore can give him…."
The phoenix barely manages to hide a laugh. Salazar had no heir, and neither did Godric. That, they made sure of.
Riddle stopped between the high pillars and looks up into the stone face of Slytherin, high above him in the half-darkness. Riddle opened his mouth wide and hissed.
Harry wheeled around to look at the statue, Fawkes swaying on his shoulder. Slytherin's gigantic stone face was moving. Horrorstruck, Harry saw his mouth opening, wider and wider, to make a giant black hole.
And something was stirring inside the statue's mouth. Something was slithering up from its depths.
Harry backed away until he hit the dark Chamber wall, and he shut his eyes tight.
Godric let his wing sweep against Harry's cheek as he took flight. Even as a phoenix, the Founder prepared mentally for the task he was about to execute. He had been too late once, and a student paid for it. That would not happen again.
Salazar was a brother to him. He was family. After years of fighting together, Godric Gryffindor will stand against Salazar Slytherin today.
The basilisk was moving toward Harry, its heavy body slithering across the dusty floor. Harry tripped and fell hard onto the stone and tasted blood. The serpent was barely feet from him.
There was a loud, explosive spitting sound, and then something heavy hit Harry so hard that he was smashed into the wall. Waiting for fangs to sink through his body he heard madder hissing, something thrashing wildly off the pillars.
He couldn't help it — he opened his eyes wide enough to squint at what was happening.
The enormous serpent, bright, poisonous green, thick as an oak trunk, had raised itself high in the air, and its great blunt head was weaving drunkenly between the pillars. As Harry trembled, ready to close his eyes if it turned, he saw what had distracted the snake.
Fawkes was soaring around its head, and the basilisk was snapping furiously at him with fangs long and thin as sabers. Fawkes dived. His long golden beak sank out of sight, and a sudden shower of dark blood spattered the floor. The snake's tail thrashed, narrowly missing Harry. Before Harry could shut his eyes, it turned; Harry looked straight into its face and saw that the phoenix had punctured its eyes. Blood was streaming to the floor, and the snake was spitting in agony.
The blinded serpent swayed, confused, but still deadly. Fawkes was circling its head, piping his eerie song, filled with notes of mourning as he continued jabbing here and there at its scaly nose as the blood poured from its ruined eyes.
"Help me, help me," Harry muttered wildly in parseltongue, "someone — anyone…."
Godric watched, heart pounding as the snake's tail whipped across the floor again. Harry ducked, and something soft hit his face. The basilisk had swept the Sorting Hat into Harry's arms. Sal had broken through; he knew it.
Harry rammed it onto his head and threw himself flat onto the floor as the basilisk's tail swung over him again.
Help me — help me — Harry thought, his eyes screwed tight under the Hat. Please help me.
There was no answering voice. Instead, the Hat contracted like an invisible hand was tightly squeezing it. Something very hard and heavy thudded onto the top of Harry's head, almost knocking him out.
Stars winking in front of his eyes, he grabbed the top of the Hat to pull it off and felt something long and hard beneath it. A gleaming silver sword had appeared inside the Hat, its handle glittering with rubies the size of eggs.
Gryffindor gave a squawk of victory. The boy was worthy. Riddle continued his yelling, but Harry was on his feet, ready. The basilisk's head was falling, its body coiling around, hitting pillars as it twisted to face him.
It lunged blindly — Harry dodged, and it hit the Chamber wall. It lunged again, and its forked tongue lashed Harry's side. He raised the sword in both his hands.
The basilisk lunged again, and this time its aim was true — Harry threw his whole weight behind the sword and drove it to the hilt into the roof of the serpent's mouth.
Godric flew in circles, aiming to land next to his old friend as the end approached. Then, he noticed the one long, poisonous fang sinking deeper into Harry's arm. It splintered as the basilisk keeled over sideways and fell, twitching, to the floor.
Harry slid down the wall. He gripped the fang spreading poison through his body, and wrenched it out of his arm.
Harry heard a soft clatter of claws beside him, "Fawkes," said Harry thickly. "You were fantastic, Fawkes…."
Godric lay his beautiful head on the spot where the serpent's fang had pierced the skin. Salazar was dying, and so was the boy who looked so much like their grandson. The young Gryffindor that stood scared out of his mind and delivered the killing blow against the King of Serpents.
Godric was alone again. The tears came easily. Harry Potter would not die here today, and certainly not because of Sal, no matter how mad he may have gone.
He could hear echoing footsteps, and then a dark shadow moved before him.
"You're dead, Harry Potter," said Riddle's voice above him. "Dead. Even Dumbledore's bird knows it. Do you see what he's doing, Potter? He's crying."
Harry shook his head, and there was Fawkes, still resting his head on Harry's arm. A pearly patch of tears was shining all around the wound — except there was no wound.
"Get away, bird," exclaimed Riddle's voice. "Get away from him — I said, get away —"
Harry raised his head. Riddle pointed Harry's wand at Fawkes; there was a bang like a gun, and Fawkes took flight again in a whirl of gold and scarlet.
Godric was tired of this charade. That diary was the root of all of this. In a rush of wings, he had soared back overhead, and something fell into Harry's lap - the diary.
For a split second, both Harry and Riddle, wand still raised, stared at it. Then, without thinking, without considering, as though he had meant to do it all along, Harry seized the basilisk fang on the floor next to him and plunged it straight into the heart of the book.
There was a long, dreadful, piercing scream. Ink spurted out of the diary in torrents, streaming over Harry's hands and flooding the floor. Riddle was writhing and twisting, screaming and flailing, and then — He had gone. Harry's wand fell to the floor with a clatter, and there was silence.
The air was lighter already, and Godric beat his wings against Harry's shoulder, pushing the boy toward the exit. Harry gathered his wand, the Hat, the Sword, the Diary, and the stirring girl. The phoenix flew with them to the exit and then, carried everyone to the Headmaster's office.
Godric had no explanation to give, so he vanished in a burst of flame, returning to the chamber. The basilisk certainly looked dead, but it still writhed every so often. Godric came to rest near its head and trilled sad notes.
The basilisk began twisting, and Godric wondered if the young Potter hadn't struck a killing blow after all. Then, his eyes caught a flash of green fabric that he'd recognise anywhere. The serpent shuddered and shrank more until a limp body was in its place.
Salazar!
Godric pecked at his chest, until the wizard stirred, bringing his hand up to bat away the bird. The phoenix pecked faster and Sal eventually forced his eyes open, scrambling into a sitting position, “Godric?”
Godric thought he’d sprain a muscle with the intensity he nodded his head at. Salazar’s voice was hoarse with disuse and his body was trembling with the effort of becoming himself again, “Where is Helga? And Rowena?”
Godric’s eyes fell and he shook his head lightly.
Something seemed to spark in Sal’s memory, “The boy? Who is he?”
Sal held the phoenix’s gaze and prodded at Godric’s memory like he used to do when they both had been men. Bits of conversations that Godric had overheard came to Sal’s mind too. It was a mistake since the ache behind his eyes intensified.
“So, the future then,” Sal coughed, as he massaged his temples. Godric wasn't listening anymore, he took to the air singing a jubilant and upbeat melody. Salazar leaned against the pillar, closing his eyes and drinking in the magic. He was back.