Author's Note: Someone in the CaerAzkaban group started a "Harry as a Basilisk" challenge, and I decided to try and take him up on it. The rules are: Following the events in the Chamber of Secrets Harry becomes a Basilisk. The transformation is Essential in nature. He is not a Basilisk animagus, but a Basilisk through and through. Harry finds a way to disguise himself as his old human self for a few hours each day. He should try to keep his transformation a secret from his family as well as the students and faculty of Hogwarts.

Now on with the story:

&!&!&!&

My room's too small. Not too small as in "I can't fit my furniture and belongings inside" but, too small as in "If I lift my head another inch I'm going to scrape it on the ceiling". It used to be large enough for me to move around in, but that is no longer the case. The reason why is because when I could fit inside my room without too much trouble I was a human boy, and now I'm not. I am currently a sixty foot long and three foot in diameter acid green specimen of a species of magical snake that is commonly called a Basilisk which is stuck in an eight foot by ten foot by seven foot room that is half filled with furniture I no longer need.

How did I get in this situation, you ask?

It's sorta a long story, but to make a long story short, it was Voldemort's fault. If his younger self hadn't opened the Chamber of Secrets and set that damn snake on me I wouldn't be in this mess.

If it hadn't been for Fawkes though, I wouldn't be a Basilisk. On the other hand if it weren't for Fawkes, I'd be one of a pair or even a quartet of corpses laying there rotting in the Chamber of Secrets. I don't really blame Fawkes for my current situation or the irritation I go through every morning and evening, he had been trying to help me. How was he supposed to know that because the only thing that could survive Basilisk venom is a Basilisk, his tears would turn me into one as they attempted to heal me from the bite I received from Slytherin's Monster as I shoved Gryffindor's sword into its brain via its mouth, he's just a bird after all not a Healer, and he wouldn't have had to help me in the first place if it weren't for that bastard Tom Riddle.

Fawkes is a pretty stand-up guy for a Phoenix. Instead of just ditching me after I turned into a sixty foot monster, he actually tried to correct the situation. The end result of that attempt at correction is the burning. Every morning at dawn I go from being Harry Potter the freaking huge snake to being a Harry Potter shaped Basilisk - basically I look like the boy I once was, except for the fact that I'm cold blooded, don't need to eat more than once a week, need to wear mirrored sunglasses until the contacts that are on special order arrive, and have strange cravings for small rodents and other animals - and every evening at sunset I turn back again.

Here comes the sun now, and with it the insanely itchy burning that always starts at the end of my tail and travels to my head like a lighted fuse. I endure the irritation, glad that it is an itch rather than the extreme agony one should feel as one is lit on fire and burned for several minutes. I must remember to thank whoever the hell it was who put a fire proofing ward on the property otherwise the house would have burned down on the first day of vacation and revealed my secret to the world. I must also remember to thank Ginny for agreeing to keep my secret, oh and Madam Pompfrey who claimed that such things were included in her confidentiality oath when she sent out the order for the contacts in both Harry and Giant Basilisk sizes, leading me to believe that something similar to my situation may have occurred in the past.

The burning is done, the sun is risen, and Aunt Petunia's calling like she does every morning. Coming to my door with her endless list of chores no doubt. The only thing I have to look forward to today and for the rest of the Summer is the yard work. If I plan things right, I'll have some time to bask before the over-sized fat filled snacks come to bother me before dragging me indoors for the housework. I really don't know how I'm going to manage in that drafty castle this coming Winter. It's not like I'll be able to hibernate, and there's the fact that if I can't fit inside my room here, there'll be no way in hell I'll be able to fit on my bed there.

I'll have to worry about that later though. For now however, it'll be boring chores and then sun, sun, sun.