Harry Potter and the Time Fluke

The Chamber

Empty portraits hung on the stone walls of equally empty corridors. Silence had settled over the castle, giving the illusion that his footfalls were echoing about at the same volume as deafening thunder. Autumn air floating through the open windows whipped around his face, throwing this already messy hair into even greater disarray and putting his much-hated scar on display for the world to see.

Not that there was anyone around to view the disfigurement.

As the door at the end of the hall grew larger and more defined with every hurried step he took, Harry's sense of urgency heightened. Blood pumped through his veins and pounded in his ears. He didn't slow or stop as the door grew closer. Bracing himself, he slammed it open, crossing the threshold of the bathroom and colliding easily with the marble sink. The entrance to the Chamber.

"Open," he hissed, nerves tingling with uncomfortable anticipation at what he'd find at the other end. He wasn't sure why he was trying to get into the Chamber of Secrets, he didn't know what he expected to uncover when he got there. But something in the back of his mind drove him forward, overpowering any sense of logic that would have given him reason to pause and think the situation over.

The faucet sank into the ground soundlessly, revealing the large, dark, slimy tube Harry hadn't seen in over a decade. He could feel cool air wafting up from its inner depths, dancing over his face and drying his eyes.

Without any hesitation, he took a single step forward and plummeted down the endless shaft, dirtying his robes in the process. He hit the floor at the bottom and sprung up, continuing on his way. There was no need for him to cast Lumos to see, an eerie green light lit his path easily. He scrambled over the shed skin of the basilisk, eyes focused on the hall ahead. In this version of the Chamber, there was no rubble to indicate where Lockhart's Obliviate had gone wrong.

The towering double doors at the end of the hall had no handles. Only two large pillars with carved serpents jutting out of the smooth stone–large, glittering emeralds set as eyes–stood like sentries next to them. Harry knew what he had to do.

"Open." That single word, spoken in the language of snakes, and Harry could get anywhere he pleased down here. The doors gave way and he pushed through, each new hurried step reverberating off the marble floor and high, cathedral ceiling.

And then he saw him, standing there in the middle of the room, eyes trained on the gargantuan statue of Salazar Slytherin before him. Harry stopped a few paces behind his target, little puffy breaths visible as a white mist leaving his lips.

The other boy didn't even turn. "Why have you come here, Harry?"

Harry's fists clenched unconsciously at his sides.

"You can't do this, Tom."

"Can't I?" The older boy finally turned, eyes devoid of any emotion. Just two dark, empty pits placed on either side of his aristocratic nose.

"No." Harry's voice was firm, unwavering in his decision. "You can't. I won't let you."

"Oh?" Tom allowed a wicked smile to play across his thin lips and subtly tilted his head to the side. "And how–" he took a step forward, "–do you plan–" step, "–on stopping me?" He was right in front of Harry now, allowing his greater height to contribute to his overall imposing form.

The younger boy gulped but didn't back down. "I-I won't let you," he repeated, the confidence in his voice faltering, making him sound weaker, less sure of how he'd accomplish his end goal. "I'll find some way of stopping you, stopping this. I know I will, somehow..."

Tom's smirk widened, not missing the catch in Harry's voice and understanding what it meant. He leaned forward so that his mouth was centimeters away from the smaller boy's ear. He was so close that, when he spoke, his breath easily warmed the side of the other's face.

Harry shuddered. It was too real.

"I'll let you in on a little secret," Tom whispered patronizingly, enjoying every nervous fidget Harry made at the closeness of their position. He leaned out just enough that he'd be able to see whatever emotion flickered across the younger one's face, enunciating every word slowly and clearly.

"You. Can't. Stop. Me."

Closing the distance between the two, Tom's frozen lips had barely touched Harry's own, shocked pair, when the Chamber and everything in it began to dissolve in a whirl of darkened color.

AN: So sorry for the late update. I'm in college and the lead in the play so life has been hectic but I'm back :)