"Get up," The voice startled Harry from where he was lying in front of the fireplace, sprawled would be more the word for it. He was exhausted, just pure exhausted and fed up with everything that was his life, he was fed up with people not understanding, and he was fed up with the people around him that were meant to help him leaving him to flounder.

After his final detention with Umbridge for this week, he had fled to the one place where he felt safe, the one place where he felt as though he could hide away from the rest of the world in complete privacy, the only place that he could just relax and not worry about the eyes watching him, waiting for something from him, be it him going absolutely nuts, or doing absolutely the right thing at the right time, and being what they expected him to be.

The Chamber of Secrets was the only place he was going to be able to hide away from everything considering he was the only person aside from Voldemort who could access it. Even Dumbledore hadn't been able to access it, even when he had tried replicating Harry saying open, and used a recording he had taken of Harry saying it. One of the snake portraits outside of the bathroom was very chatty and was more than happy to tell Harry about Dumbledore getting frustrated and trying to break his way into the Chamber.

During his Fourth Year, he had to get away from everything that had been happening that year, it was before the First Task when most of his schoolmates thought that he had put his name into the Goblet of Fire and spent most of their time glaring at him, and throwing barbed digs at him. He had thought about somewhere that he could go that would allow him the privacy that he so desperately needed, and the Chamber had jumped to mind. He knew that Dumbledore had said that he was putting charms and wards around the Chamber to prevent anyone from opening it, but it seemed that the Chamber and anyone speaking Parseltongue had a way around that, and he had been passing in and out of the Chamber for over a year now.

He had wandered around it the first time, spending nearly a whole weekend down here, just showing his face for meals to stop people panicking. It had been a little disturbing being down here at first, but the need for privacy and escape for the first time in his life overrode that. And then he had found Slytherin's Study.

It didn't make sense to him that Slytherin had built this massive chamber only to house the Basilisk, and so he had dug around for anything else that could be in here, and sure enough, after hissing at everything in sight, the study door had opened and he had truly found a haven to hide away.

The study was incredibly comfortable, it was a huge room, filled with dozens of bookshelves, absolutely crammed with books, a massive fireplace kept the chill and damp out of the room, and he had his choice of a large wingback armchair or a comfy sofa, there was a desk that he could settle down at to do his homework or lay out the books that he looked through, and on occasions, he had made himself comfortable on the thick fur rug in front of the fire and napped when that was all he needed.

Without eyes on him, without Hermione hassling him for doing things wrong, without Ron huffing and puffing and muttering next to him, without eyes constantly on him, and even without the Dursleys to punish him, he found enjoyment in reading and learning that he had thought that he had lost when he was a child and realised that he was not meant to do better than Dudley in school, which considering the only thing between that moron's ears was air meant that Harry had to answer every single question wrong.

At first, it had started out of necessity, he had figured that there had to be spells and charms and things in the books here that could help him survive the Triwizard Tournament, but along the way, he had realised that he was enjoying learning, and he had even snuck some books down from the library to read here.

This year, with the death of Cedric hovering over him, with the disbelief of Wizarding Britain and his words that Voldemort was back being attacked, with him not even being able to relax in his dorm considering Dean and Seamus constantly sniped and snapped at him, and in the Common Room it was even worse, the Chamber had seemed to become even more of a Haven than before.

Then Dumbledore had been ignoring him, no one would tell him what was going on with the link between him and Voldemort, no one would explain how he had had the vision of Nagini attacking Mr Weasley, he had been thrown into the Occulamency with Snape which was doing absolutely jack shit to help him, all it seemed to be was Snape barking orders at him without actually explaining anything and throwing the spell at him to comb through his most traumatic and horrid memories. Then there was Umbridge, carving his hand open, no, making him carve his own hand open on a nightly basis, and no one would help him.

Having Occulamency lessons the night before that had left his head still thundering today, and then having detention with Umbridge was just…he was done. He had escaped down here as quickly as he could, not caring that Hermione and Ron would be expecting him to be back at the tower. He had raced down here and he had thrown himself through the tunnel, the main part of the Chamber until he had hurried through the door to the Study, the wash of the preservation charms that covered the room not making him relax as they normally did, the fire flaring to life not helping him relax at all. He had simply thrown himself down on the run in front of the fire, and just prayed that it would all stop.

"What…" At least he had been until the voice had spoken. There definitely should not be anyone in here with him, and he knew the voices of all the snake portraits that were in here, and the deep, rumbling voice was definitely not one of theirs. His eyes fell on the portrait that had spoken, the portrait that had definitely never been there during the hundreds of hours he had spent here.

"Stop gawping at me, and come here," The portrait demanded, and he found himself rolling to his feet and walking over, the curiosity overwhelming everything else.

"Who are you?" Harry asked.

"I am Salazar Slytherin," The portrait announced, and Harry blinked his bright green eyes up at the full-length portrait of apparently one of the four Founders of Hogwarts. The man's hair was waist length and pitch black, contrasting with his pale skin, and sharp sapphire blue eyes that pierced through Harry, watching him come closer with an intense expression on his face. The red robes he was wearing fitted around him perfectly, emphasising his broad shoulders and muscled chest, the high collar and slightly billowing sleeves giving him a strong aristocratic air. Even from a portrait, he gave off a strong and powerful aura, seeming to take up a huge space in the room despite only being 2d.

"But…the statue outside," Harry frowned.

"That is my Grandfather, my moronic Descendant that took over this Chamber for a little while didn't bother to properly look around or understand this place," Slytherin rolled his eyes, and Harry had to fight the urge to laugh at seeing the expression on that aristocratic face.

"How come I haven't seen you before? Charms?" Harry asked.

"Yes, I can only be seen when I choose to reveal myself to whoever is in here. I have only revealed myself to one other person,"

"Riddle?" Harry scrunched his nose up.

"Definitely not, that….cretin did not deserve to bear my name, or have entry to this place, if I was able to stop him from coming in I would have!" Slytherin sneered, and as Harry's mouth opened he held his hand up with a glare, "and please do not ask me if it is because of his blood! Where this ridiculousness came about my dislike of muggleborns I do not know, but I would happily curse the person that started it. I wanted equal teaching of light, grey and dark magic at the school! Not only purebloods!"

"Oh, right," Harry nodded, and suddenly the exhaustion hit him again, mixed now with the confusion as to what the hell was going on in his life now.

"Show me your hand," The order, and it could only be taken as an order, snapped Harry's eyes back open from where he had been flagging and he looked up into blue shards, automatically moving his injured hand behind his back.

"Why?"

"Because you are injured and I want to see it, I want to see what has been done to you. I have been watching you since you first came into here, which I feel I owe you an apology for considering I believe you have been looking for an escape from being watched given some of your mutterings. But I have been watching you, and I am tired of seeing you come in here and more and more exhausted over the last few weeks, and hurt. I have seen blood, but I can not see what has happened, show me,"

Harry looked up at the portrait, weighing up his options before shrugging and holding his hand out to show Slytherin the damage that he had been made to do to his own hand. He startled backwards when Slytherin snarled and slammed his hands against the barrier of his portrait.

"Who has done this to you?!" Slytherin demanded.

"The new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher," Harry admitted.

"This is…a blood quill?" Slytherin asked him and Harry nodded. "Go over to that corner, reach into the back of the bookshelf and you will feel a lever, it will open a drawer in my desk. There are potions in there, bring them over,"

Unsure why exactly he was doing this, but blaming it on the headache that had been crushing his brain for over 24 hours, the blood loss and burning pain in his hand, exhaustion and utter bewilderment at what was happening.

"What is going on with your head?" Slytherin asked, and when Harry turned as he searched for the latch at the back of the bookshelf he found those eyes glued onto him.

"Occulamency, your nutty descendant and I are bound somehow through my scar, and Dumbledore wants me to learn Occulamency, he has Snape teaching me," Harry said finding the latch a pulling it, the hiss of a drawer opening at the desk letting him know it had worked. "Oh, do you know…"

"I am one of the Founders of this school, I am aware of a lot of what goes on within these walls. I can not see everything, especially not considering that it would be an invasion of privacy, but my connection to the School allows me to keep up to date with what is going on within it. And I can not believe that that moron of a Headmaster has that man teaching you Occulamency!"

"It isn't going well," Harry agreed, grabbing the potions from the draw and taking them back to the portrait.

"Of course, it isn't! I doubt he is even trying to teach you," Slytherin glared down at him. "Take the red, blue, green and teal potion, in that order, and pour the milky white one into a bowl and soak your hand into it,"

"What will they do?" Harry asked even as he started knocking them back. For some reason, this gained him an expression from Slytherin that thought was worried.

"They are painkillers, blood replenishers, anti-inflammatory, antibiotics and the soaking one will help heal your hand and stop it scarring badly," Slytherin explained, watching carefully as Harry poured the potion into the bowl and placed his hand in it, sighing as the potion helped ease the burning he had been feeling in his hand for weeks now almost right away.

"Why have you shown yourself to me?" Harry asked after a few moments of sitting with his eyes closed, just soaking up the feeling of not being in pain for the first time in a while, even if it made him feel even more tired.

"As I said, I have been watching you, you are interesting and intelligent. You have a hunger for thirst. But watching you suffer recently has been infuriating," Slytherin said, and Harry blinked up at him confused for a second, not having expected that, before he snorted.

"I am none of those things," He shook his head looking down at the potion he was holding his hand in.

"Look at me," Slytherin ordered, and again Harry did as he was asked. "You are all of those things, and more,"

"I…" Harry didn't know what to say to that.

"I have an offer for you," Slytherin lowered himself down into a chair in his portrait and rested his arms on his knees, steepling his fingers as he looked at Harry.

"And what is that?" Harry sighed.

"I have a failsafe in my portrait, I can have another go at life, but I require someone powerful to help me out. I have not desired to use my one chance at living again before now, but the disgrace that my line has become needs to be wiped out, and you need help," Slytherin said, looking intently down at Harry.

"And you want to help me out of the goodness of your heart?" Harry snorted.

"No, definitely not out of the goodness of my heart," Slytherin smirked. Harry felt as though he was missing something. "And as I said, that stain on my line needs dealing with,"

"So you want me to help release you?" Harry asked, feeling even more exhausted.

"Yes, it is dangerous though and I understand if you say no. I truly believe that you are strong enough to free me, but it could kill you if you are not strong enough. If you do succeed you will be drained of magic for at least a week. If you free me I will help you learn everything that you need to learn to block that creature from your head, and I will help you get rid of him, we would be bound together through this, for the rest of our lives. This comes with a danger, I won't hide that,"

Harry opened his mouth, not having expected Slytherin to be so open, especially not when he offered him information that could clearly have led to Harry saying no, especially when an option in there was death.

"Help me? Not do it yourself?" Harry asked, and was not expecting Slytherin's eyes to widen and then his mouth and face pinch with fury.

"Dumbledore has not told you of the Prophecy?" Slytherin asked, but he obviously knew the answer.

"Prophecy?" Harry asked tiredly.

"The useless Divination teacher is not so useless, she made a prophecy to Dumbledore before you were born. 'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...' that…thing bound the two of you together when he tried to kill you, and going by the words of the prophecy, you have to be involved in getting rid of him. But should you release me I will do everything that I can to help you and make sure that it happens,"

Harry stared at the floor as he took in what he had just been told, and he took in the knowledge as to why Voldemort had come for him, why he had killed his parents, and why he was so obsessed with him. Questions that he had asked himself over and over, and it seems as though Dumbledore had known the answer to this since before he was born, and had kept it from him. As he did with so many other things.

"Harry," Slytherin's voice was the softest that it had been since he started talking to him, and he found those blue eyes watching him with an inscrutable expression.

"I am so tired," Harry heard himself saying.

"I want to help you," Slytherin said softly, and Harry took a deep breath. He couldn't remember the last time that he had heard those words.

He was tired and exhausted, and he wasn't sure how much fight he had left in him. He seemed to be being attacked from all sides, and there was no relief, that there was no one to help him, no one willing to help him, everyone around him just kept piling the pressure on top of him. No one had offered him a hand, no one had offered him help for a long time now.

He could release Slytherin, and risk dying, but then he didn't fancy his chances anyway without some help, he was just too done in to have much fight left to face anything else that came for him. No one was helping him, no one was teaching him anything, and things were constantly being kept from him. With the way things were going he was going to die anyway, especially with that prophecy, and it being clear that Dumbledore was keeping so much more from him than he had imagined that he was.

"Ok," Harry said, standing and looking determinedly at the portrait.

"Ok?" Slytherin tilted his head looking at him.

"I will release you," Harry said.

"You need time to think about this Harry, this is not a choice that you should…"

"I'll release you now or not at all," Harry tipped his head back. Slytherin narrowed his eyes, clearly not happy with the words but nodded sharply.

"Very well, if you are determined to be hard-headed about this. All you need to do is touch your hands to the portrait, on the daffodils on the frame and focus on that feeling that goes through you when you cast a spell,"

Harry did as he was told, though Slytherin said he was being hard-headed, it was more that he was worried that he would change his mind if he walked away to think about this, and something in his stomach was telling him that this was his only chance of surviving this war. He had learned to listen to that feeling long ago.

And besides that, if he didn't do this now he had another Occulamency lesson tomorrow, he had more detentions next week, he had to go back to a dorm with people who didn't believe him, people who wanted something out of him, people who expected him to behave a certain way and when he didn't, they made their disappointment more than clear.

He used the emotions washing through him to summon as much power as he could, focussing on the odd feeling of the magic wheeling into his hands, not sure where to go when it didn't have a spell to focus on, he pushed past the exhaustion wracking his body, the headache, the burning in his hand, and he focussed on the anger he was feeling from things that Slytherin had told him, from the things that had been kept from him, he used the frustration of not being believed despite everything that he had gone through, everything that he had seen in that Graveyard, despite the death of Cedric, he used the anger and confusion he had felt at being tried as though he was a criminal when he had been defending himself during the summer and his anger at the tone that the adults in his life had taken towards him having to use a spell to stop himself and his cousin being kissed by a dementor, treating him as though he was a naughty little boy who had been caught stealing sweets.

He looked up and met those sapphire blue eyes that were burning down into him, the magic of the portrait flaring around the man in the portrait as he summoned his own magic to meet Harry's, he listened to that voice in his gut that was telling him that he was doing the right thing, that this was the right choice, and then he pushed everything that he had into his magic and shoved it into the portrait.

There was an unbearably bright flash in front of his eyes as the portrait lit up, the brightness of it making his headache a hundred times worse, it felt as though he had been scooped out internally, and he felt himself swaying backwards like a puppet that had had its strings cut, and he was falling, heading right for the marble floor.

Strong arms wrapped around him, catching him before he was halfway to the floor, and he felt himself being lifted up, an arm coming underneath his knees to lift him fully off the floor. He was aware of them moving, being pressed against the strong chest, aware of the scent of paint surrounding him strongly, and then he was placed down onto something luxuriously soft.

Something brushed over his forehead, a hand he thought, and fingers combed through his hair, then something soft was draped over him and he felt himself being tucked under a blanket. He was too exhausted to open his eyes now, and he could feel himself falling into unconsciousness, but he found the strength to turn into the hand that was cupping his face.

"Shhh, sleep Harry, I have you now," Slytherin said softly, and just as Harry surrendered to the sweet pull of unconsciousness he felt lips pressing to his forehead, right over his scar.