Author's note: Hi everyone! My first fic on For my story, I have very closely or exactly copied some dialogue from JK Rowlings' original book Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. I felt it was necessary 1. So that you don't have to go back and re-read it and 2. Becaue I want to change some things, even if just slightly. I don't own it, it's JK's work. I take NO CREDIT for the parts that you recognize. Ok? ^_^ By the way, MAJOR spoilers for the end of CoS (if you haven't read it, don't read this!). Also, have book 3 on hand - I'm sorry, but it wouldn't be right to copy the ENTIRE chapter from it, and there's one chapter that I'm not changing at all. For those of you who remember sufficiently, I will merely post a summary of the chapter. ^_^

And yes, there will eventually be slash between Harry and DRACO. I think they're just too cute together! And yes, this did start out with me intending for it to be Harry/Severus. It kind of switched around chapter 8. ::sweatdrop:: If you have a problem, don't read. ^^; I promise I'll put up a Harry/Severus sometime, ok? I love them, too (and Remus/Sirius! Yay!) Please feel free to e-mail me! With homework and such, updates will be a bit slow- my goal (which I will inevitably fail to meet) is one chapter a week. Kinda. Maybe. Hehe. anyway. Maris Slytherin

P.S. How do you get tabs to show up? It just comes up for me as one huge paragraph. That's why there are so many spaces.. Sorry! If you have a solution, I'll repost any chapters that have this problem.
Harry Potter and the Re-sorting

"Sit down, Harry," Professor Dumbledore bade, his voice gentle. Harry sat, hoping his knees didn't betray his state of extreme nervousness. His mind flashed back to what had just happened to him in the past hours. Voldemort. Or, more accurately, a memory of him. Tom Riddle, as he had been called, had brilliantly preserved himself in a diary. With Ginny Weasley's aid, he had terrorized Hogwarts and its occupants once again- Harry, once again, had stopped him. He felt a wave of unexpected regret wash over him. The basilisk had been a strangely beautiful creature. Its scales were like dark green and black jewels, and its eyes had glowed gold with a strange power. And Tom, too. Harry felt that they could have been friends, if he'd dropped the whole killing off mudbloods and muggles thing. He sighed.

"You're tired, I know," the headmaster said, misinterpreting the sigh. "But first of all, Harry, I want to thank you. You must have shown me real loyalty down in the Chamber. Nothing but that could have called Fawkes to you."

The phoenix alighted on Harry's knee and he stroked the soft, red feathers, grinning at it. It had saved his life, and helped him to kill the basilisk. His grin faded a bit. What a magnificent creature it had been. A voice nagged him. Loyalty, Potter? it whispered. All you did was state a fact, that Albus Dumbledore is said by everyone to be the greatest wizard in the world. Harry didn't know where the thought had come from, but his mind was too burnt-out to really combat it. In fact... did he hear a hint of triumph in Dumbledore's voice? The Boy Who Lived, a vessel of supposedly immense powers, was loyal to him? Surely, Harry thought, that can't be what he means.

"And so you met Tom Riddle. I imagine he was most interested in you..."

Harry shifted. The way Dumbledore said that made him uncomfortable. As if he was a specimen. For the first time, he truly wondered how Dumbledore felt about him. Was he a boy? An actual person? Or just The Boy Who Lived, an intriguing miracle to be studied and protected? Would... would Dumbledore have even liked him, had he come to Hogwarts under different circumstances? Surely he'd not be as powerful, then. He was a worse student than either of his parents, he guessed. And how many times had he broken rules or gotten into trouble and been excused... just because he was the Harry Potter?

"Professor Dumbledore." No, he couldn't just ask, like that! What would Dumbledore think? What would he do? Restrict Harry's freedom? Not trust him? Another question, quick... "Riddle said I'm like him. Strange likenesses, he said..."

"Did he now?" Dumbledore pondered. He gave Harry a thoughtful look. "And what do you think, Harry?" Well, at least he was asking Harry a real question, one that involved thinking, not just being a celebrity.

"I don't think I'm like him," was the answer Harry gave. In truth, he did think they looked alike. They'd both lost their parents at an early age. But, still... "I mean, I'm - I'm in Gryffindor, I'm..." He paused. It was true, he was in Gryffindor. But, was that where he was meant to be? He'd made his decision based on his bad impression of Malfoy. But surely there was more to Slytherin than Draco Malfoy! "Professor, the Sorting Hat told me I'd - I'd have done well in Slytherin. Everyone thought I was Slytherin's heir for a while. because I can speak Parseltongue..." He fell silent.

"You can speak Parseltongue, Harry, because Lord Voldemort - who is the last remaining ancestor of Salazar Slytherin - can speak Parseltongue." Harry's eyes widened. "Unless I'm very much mistaken, he transferred some of his own powers to you the night he gave you that scar. Not something he intended to do, I'm sure..."

"Voldemort put a bit of himself in me?" Harry repeated, a sudden understanding coming to him.

"It certainly seems so."

"So I should be in Slytherin," he breathed. Of course, it all made sense. He didn't feel violated - it wasn't as if he WAS part of Voldemort. The powers had been there for eleven years; what he didn't understand was that this didn't bother him in the least. He met Dumbledore's eyes. He murmured, "The Sorting Hat could see Slytherin's power in me, and it-"

"Put you in Gryffindor, " the old man cut him off calmly. "Listen to me, Harry. You happen to have many qualities Salazar Slytherin prized in his hand-picked students. His own very rare gift, Parseltongue. resourcefulness. determination. and a certain disregard for rules," he added pointedly. "Yet the Sorting Hat placed you in Gryffindor. You know why that was. Think."

It seemed to Harry that Dumbledore was being unfair now. He knew that the Headmaster tried to be fair, but, no matter how much he denied it, he was biased. Gryffindor was his old house, and Gryffindors had always had a bit of rivalry with Slytherins. But, he thought about the question that had been posed to him, why was I not put in Slytherin, if I have the qualities? Ah, of course... Malfoy...

He explained, "It only put me in Gryffindor because I asked not to go into Slytherin."

"Exactly!" beamed Dumbledore. He looked like he was about to say more, but Harry cut him off.

"Professor, I'm sorry, but... you don't understand. I grew up with Muggles. I had no idea what the houses were like. I only knew that Draco Malfoy had been mean to me, and I wanted to avoid him. That's the only reason why I asked not to go into Slytherin."

Dumbledore's smile faded a bit. "My dear boy, the Sorting Hat isn't easily influenced by what you want..."

"It's not easy to speak Parsletongue, either, Professor. Hasn't Voldemort got a gift for getting his way? Maybe he transferred that, too..."

"Harry," he said seriously, leaning toward him. "What are you saying?"

Harry was silent. What was he saying? Finally, he said, "I think I'm saying that it was just for a silly reason that I wasn't put into Slytherin. I'm not saying that I have anything against Gryffindors or anything, Professor, I just... Well, I want to be sure I'm in the right place. The Sorting Hat's never been wrong before, has it?" He squirmed in his seat. He had never contradicted Dumbledore before.

Dumbledore's blue eyes seemed to stare at him as if he'd never seen him before. Wordlessly, he picked up the sword from where it lay on his desk. He handed it to Harry, who looked down at it confusedly. It was silver, with huge rubies imbedded in the hilt, and still stained with the basilisk's blood. He turned it over in his hands, and was about to ask Dumbledore what he was supposed to see when something caught his eye. Just below the hilt the words 'Godric Gryffindor' were engraved in a flowery script. He looked back up at Dumbledore for an explanation.

"Only a true Gryffindor could have pulled that out of the hat, Harry," he said, his voice heavy.

Harry was silent. That was true, and yet. he hadn't pulled it out of the hat. It had fallen out. Rather painfully too, and he reddened at the memory. All he had done was ask - plead - for help. He pondered this. That did sound like a rather un-Slytherin thing to do, he admitted. So, what.? Suddenly he knew. He recalled that night when he and Ron, huddled in a corner of Hagrid's cabin under the Invisibility Cloak, had seen Dumbledore lead away. ". help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it." The words came back to him. Slytherin, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw... help would be given no matter who asked for it. And what else could Fawkes have brought? He eyed the phoenix thoughtfully. It blinked lazily back at him and hooted softly.

Finally, Dumbledore opened a drawer and took out a quill and some ink. "What you need, Harry, is some food and sleep. You're not thinking straight. I suggest you go down to the feast, while I write to Azkaban - we need our gamekeeper back. And I must draft an advertisement for the Daily Prophet, too... We'll be needing a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher... Dear me, we do seem to run through them, don't we?" He gave Harry a look that clearly meant the meeting was over.

Harry stood up and had just reached the door when it flew open. In a rage, Lucius Malfoy strode in, Dobby the house elf following miserably behind. Harry stared.

"Good evening, Lucius," Dumbledore greeted him politely.

Mr. Malfoy swept past Harry and stared into Dumbledore's ice-blue eyes. "So! You've come back. The governors suspended you, but you still saw fit to return to Hogwarts," he spat.

Dumbledore smiled serenely up at him. "Well, you see, Lucius, the other eleven governors contacted me today. It was something like being caught in a hailstorm of owls, to tell the truth. They'd heard that Arthur Weasley's daughter had been killed and wanted me back here at once. They seemed to think I was the best man for the job after all. Very strange tales they told me, too... Several of them seemed to think that you had threatened to curse their families if they didn't agree to suspend me in the first place."

Lucius Malfoy paled, but the sneer seemed to be a permanent fixture on his twisted lips. "So - have you stopped the attacks yet? Have you caught the culprit?"

"We have," the Headmaster beamed.

"Well? Who is it?"

"The same person as last time, Lucius. But this time, Lord Voldemort," here, Lucius shivered, "was acting through somebody else. By means of this diary." Dumbledore held the book up and watched the wizard for his reaction.

Harry's attention, however, was drawn to Dobby. The elf stared at Harry while pointing to the diary, then to Mr. Malfoy, and then promptly thumping himself on the head very hard.

"I see." Mr. Malfoy responded slowly.

Dumbledore looked sternly at Mr. Malfoy. "A clever plan, because if Harry here and his friend Ron hadn't discovered this book, why - Ginny Weasley might have taken all the blame. No one would ever have been able to prove she hadn't acted of her own free will... And imagine what might have happened then. The Weasleys are one of our most prominent pure-blood families. Imagine the effect on Arthur Weasley and his Muggle Protection Act, if his own daughter was discovered attacking and killing Muggle- borns... Very fortunate the diary was discovered, and Riddle's memories wiped from it. Who knows what the consequences might have been otherwise."

"Very fortunate," Mr. Malfoy snarled.

Suddenly, Harry understood Dobby's cryptic message. He nodded his thanks, and Dobby miserably twisted his ears, punishing himself for revealing his master.

"Don't you want to know how Ginny got hold of that diary, Mr. Malfoy?" Harry asked coldly.

The man spun and glared at him. "How should I know how the stupid little girl got hold of it?" he whispered dangerously.

"Because you gave it to her," Harry retorted. " In Flourish and Blotts. You picked up her old Transfiguration book and slipped the diary inside it." He could tell by the look on Mr. Malfoy's face that he had gotten it right. "Didn't you, Mr. Malfoy?" he narrowed his eyes.

"Prove it," he hissed.

"Oh, no one will be able to do that," Dumbledore interjected, shooting a calculating look at Harry. "Not now that Riddle has vanished from the book. On the other hand, I would advise you, Lucius, not to go giving out any more of Lord Voldemort's old school things. If any more of them find their way into innocent hands, I think Arthur Weasley, for one, will make sure they are traced back to you..." He was no longer smiling.

Hesitating a moment, Lucius Malfoy spun on his heel and wrenched open McGonnagal's office door. "We're going, Dobby!" He stormed out, kicking the elf before him.

Furious at the way his friend was treated, he grabbed the diary off the desk. "Professor Dumbledore, can I give that diary back to Mr. Malfoy, please?"

"Certainly, Harry. But hurry, the feast, remember..."

But Harry was already out of the office. Hopping along the corridor, he hurriedly yanked off one of his now-slimy socks and stuffed the diary into it. A few moments later, he had caught up with them.

"Mr. Malfoy, I've got something for you-" he panted, shoving the disgusting sock into the man's hand.

"What the-?" Mr. Malfoy ripped off the sock, throwing it aside, and spoke in deadly tones to Harry: "You'll meet the same sticky end as your parents one of these days, Harry Potter. They were meddlesome fools, too. Come, Dobby. I said, come!"

Grinning, Harry watched as Dobby held up Harry's sock, a look of wonder on the elf's face. "Got a sock. Master threw it, and Dobby caught it, and Dobby - Dobby is free!" he whispered gleefully.

Mr. Malfoy lunged at Harry. "You've lost me my servant, boy!" he howled.

"You shall not harm Harry Potter!" Dobby yelled, and Mr. Malfoy was thrown backward. He tumbled down the staircase and lay in a crumpled heap below. Dobby raised a finger in warning. "You shall go now. You shall not touch Harry Potter. You shall go now."

Harry watched, smirking, as Lucius Malfoy furiously stormed out of sight. Suddenly, his stomach growled, and he realized that the Headmaster had been right - he needed food. So, giving Dobby a quick hug, he hurried out of sight. Dobby's cries of thanks followed him down the hall.
The feast lasted all through that night, and the rest of the term passed quickly, afterward. DADA classes had been cancelled, obviously, but, other than that, Hogwarts was pretty much back to normal. Hermione and the other victims had woken up with no lasting harm done, and people had apologized to Harry for suspecting him as Slytherin's heir. However, whenever they mentioned this, Harry had to think back to the discussion he had had with Dumbledore the night he had escaped from the Chamber with Ginny. Slytherin's heir, eh? He knew he wasn't - Tom Riddle was. But he could see, now, how likely a suspect he had been.

At night, nobody knew, but he stayed awake for hours. He knew what he wanted to do, but, for one thing, didn't know if it was possible, for another, didn't know if it was allowed, and last, didn't know how anyone would react to it. He always sighed, rolled over, and fell into a restless sleep, those same three questions plaguing even his dreams.