Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Augustus Rookwood loved Defense Against the Dark Arts. He'd read through the whole section in his father's library during the summer when he'd been shut up in his family's mansion. Their teacher was alright, he supposed, but he never talked about the good stuff. Merrythought could be a bore. At least in Fifth Year they were doing better topics. Currently Merrythought was explaining duelling and was only focussing on the defensive side. Augustus was much more interested in the offensive spells, but recognized that one needed to know to defensive ones too.

He looked at the boy sitting in front of him. Tom Riddle. Augustus disliked and resented Riddle, but, being a Ravenclaw, was smart enough to ally himself with the prefect. He had known by third year that Riddle was a force to be reckoned with: he was cruel and domineering, but he was also the picture of a model student. Riddle rarely noticed him, but Rookwood made sure that when he did, it was favourable attention.

Currently Riddle was listening intently to Merrythought, occasionally taking a note or answering a question. Rookwood looked out the window at the rain and tried to disguise the disgust he felt towards Riddle. How could poor orphan from a Muggle background ingrate himself with purebloods?

Merrythought addressed his class. "Today we will begin our study of duelling in a practical sense. I will pair everyone up and we will practice shield charms. No dangerous spells please." Then, he began to make his way around the room pairing people off. When he got to the bench where Augustus was sitting, he paired him with Riddle.

Riddle had that arrogant smirk on again. Augustus was itching to wipe it right off. They had made their way to the corner of the room when Merrythought had instructed the partners to spread out. "Ready, Rookwood?" Riddle asked coolly, peering at him as if he knew everything.

Augustus had worked himself up till he was spitting mad. When Merrythought instructed them to start, his anger overcame his past prudent behaviour towards Riddle. "Confringo!" he hissed.

Riddle blocked his curse with a straight face and a flick of the wrist. He did not even need to vocalize the spell.

Augustus gripped his wand in a tight fist. How dare this Muggle orphan? He was no better than scum! "Is it my turn now?" Riddle asked, perfectly calm.

Augustus ground his teeth. "Sure." Riddle sent a Jelly-Legs Jinx toward him. He blocked it easily with a shield charm, but he was infuriated. Riddle was not even engaging with him. Did he not think him an adequate opponent? The way he used that posh accent was disgusting! When Riddle had first arrived at Hogwarts his accent had been the drawl of working class Londoners. What a fake!

It was his turn. Overcome with hatred for the other student, he knocked Riddle back into the wall. The other boy had not been expecting it and hit the wall hard. Before he had time to react, Augustus shouted "Incarcerous!" Riddles hands and feet were now bound by thick ropes, causing him to fall back against the wall and to the ground.

Riddle was angry now. "What the Hell!" he hissed, almost like a snake.

Augustus had read many of his father's spell books in his library over the summer. He now used a spell that he had seen scribbled in the margin and had meant to look up.

"Depello!"

Riddle's head knocked back against the wall. Augustus felt an inexplicable tightening in his chest and felt a moment of panic when he could not breathe. Then the feeling passed and he looked at Riddle. The other boy was unconscious, but nothing else seemed to be happening.

Then, Augustus felt a rush of pleasure and fascination as blood began to seep out of Riddle's nose, which was uncharacteristic of him. As he stared at Riddle, the noise of the other students duelling in the classroom seemed muted around him.

Suddenly, Bartemius Crouch's voice cut through his daze. "What are you doing? That is not what Merrythrought asked you to do!"

Augustus turned to look at Crouch, the fifth-year Hufflepuff prefect, as a rush of uncontrollable anger rushed through his body. He suppressed it. "Riddle was out of control, sir," he lied. "He was attacking me so I had to restrain him."

Crouch gave him a doubtful look. "Professor Merrythought!" he called.

Merrythought hurried over as Crouch flicked his wand to make the ropes around Riddle's wrists and ankles disappear. The teacher bent over the unconscious student. "Rennervate."

Riddle's eyelids fluttered. Merrythought tapped Riddle's cheek. "Up you get, boy."

"Up you get, boy."

Tom's head was killing him and there was something wet on his face. He reached his hand up to touch his cheek but someone pushed it back down.

He opened his eyes to see Merrythought bending over him. "Are you alright, Mr. Riddle?" the professor asked.

"Fine," answered Tom by default. His eyes shifted to Rookwood. "Rookwood attacked me with a spell I didn't recognize, sir."

"Well, sir, Rookwood said that Riddle was attacking him, which is why he restrained him. I don't understand why he was unconscious if that was the case," Crouch butted in.

Tom frowned. He was concerned about the effects of the unknown spell. Merrythought shook his head decisively. "Mr. Riddle and Mr. Rookwood will see Headmaster Dippet this afternoon after dinner to work out the unfortunate situation. At the moment, I will take Mr. Riddle myself to the Hospital Wing." Merrythought turned to address the rest of the class who were openly staring at the group of four in the corner of the room.

Tom took Merrythought's offered hand and let the professor support him down the hallway. He did not like to show others weakness as a rule, but he supposed that this was an extenuating circumstance since he was feeling dizzy. He also felt odd. The best way to describe it would be emotionally unbalanced.

The Hospital Wing was a long, narrow room with a high ceiling and large, paned windows. Tom had not spent that much time there as he was rarely ill. The nurse instructed him to sit on one of the cots and she waved her wand around him. "He has a mild concussion but other than that there are no unpleasant affects," she said, addressing Merrythought. She glanced down at Tom's wrists. "I'll get you some cream for those marks, dear."

Tom was released awhile late with instructions to go to bed early and remember to report to Dippet's office after eating dinner. He obediently went downstairs to the Great Hall, preoccupied with his thoughts about the way he felt. He had no way to describe it so had not wanted to mention it to the nurse. It was not a sick feeling; he just felt odd.

Nevertheless, he reported to Dippet's office after dinner. He ascended the stairs that opened when the gargoyle's moved aside. Rookwood was already sitting in one of the two chairs in front of the headmaster's desk. Dippet sat in a high-backed chair on the other side fiddling with the red velvet cap he always wore and looking at the flickering candle that stood on the desk.

Tom thought the rain on the window sounded rather ominous but the pushed the thought out of his head. Since when did he think such things?

"I'm surprised to see two of my most excellent students called to my office," Dippet began when Tom sat down. "Mr. Riddle, Mr. Rookwood has been telling me how you maliciously attacked him and he had no choice but to restrain you. He says that when he bound your hands and feet you stuck your head against the wall and fell unconscious. Is this correct?"

Tom felt a rush of fury. Surprisingly, it was not the usual red hot anger he was used to. He had no urge to reach out and strangle Rookwood, but instead to prove him wrong in front of Dippet. "No, sir, Rookwood attacked me. First by physically shoving me against a wall and then binding my wrists and ankles. He then used a spell I did not recognize, but apparently I suffer no ill affects from."

"What was this incantation, Mr. Riddle?"

"Depello, sir."

Dippet frowned. "I have never heard of that spell. To be quite frank, the two of you are both prefects, have impressive academic records and are responsible students. I will give both of you the benefit of the doubt on this occasion, but the two of you had better hope that an incident of this sort never happens again, or you will be punished most severely. Mr. Riddle, you are to serve three detentions with Professor Dumbledore; he will schedule them with you when he sees fit. Mr. Rookwood, the same goes for you but with Professor Merrythought. Is this understood?"

"Perfectly, sir," Rookwood answered.

"Yes, sir," Tom consented, cursing his luck. Dumbledore had been the teacher that had come to explain to Mrs. Cole at South Lambeth Orphanage that he was to go to a private boarding school in a remote area of Scotland. At the age of eleven, he had not perfected the act he so perfectly played at school: the perfect prefect who was smart, polite, and had many devoted friends. Instead, he had revealed to Dumbledore his real thoughts. To this day Dumbledore remained suspicious.

He went straight back to the Slytherin common room after being dismissed by Dippet. Avery and Nott were waiting for him. "May I ask what happened today, my Lord?" Nott asked, addressing Tom the way he had trained all his followers to do.

Tom felt uncomfortable. He did not want to share with anyone his concern over the odd feeling the unknown spell had given him. The thought occurred to him that his followers might think less of him because Rookwood had managed to beat him in a duel, but he wagered that they were too scared of him for a thought like that to ever enter any of their heads. "Rookwood attacked me in a Muggle manner, which unfortunately caught me off guard and he managed to knock me out. I assure you he will feel the consequences," he said smoothly.

Avery nodded. "Do you want me to arrange a Knights meeting, my Lord?"

The Knights of Walpurgis was the name of Tom's group of followers, who most people in their year thought were his friends. Tom had no friends, only followers. Tom frowned, considering what Avery said. He did not want to be bothered at the moment. He needed to look up the Depello spell and continue his research. "No," he decided. "We will meet later."

He needed to go to the library after he retrieved some things from the dorm. He continued past where the other two Slytherin boys lounged on armchairs in front of the fireplace. The fifth year boys' dormitory was at the top of a wooden staircase ending in a thin doorway. When he entered, he realized in relief that no one else had returned yet.

For five years Tom had been researching Salazar Slytherin, the Chamber of Secrets, and his mother's family, the Gaunts. He had discovered in his second year that he was the child of Merope Gaunt and a Muggle called Tom Riddle. As much as it was incredibly distasteful that he had Muggle heritage, it was exiting to learn that the Gaunts were descended from Salazar Slytherin himself.

Tom retrieved his black notebook from under his mattress and shoved it into his bag. He had to make his way to the library so he could look up the spell before it closed. If Dippet had not recognized it, it was going to take him a long time to find it.

Two hours later, he was still sitting at a table in the library, pouring over books from the restricted section. He had already gone through the indexes of countless books for a spell with the incantation Depello, with no luck. The library was lit with torches on the walls and candles that hung from chandeliers, but it was getting late and some had gone out, making it hard to read. To make matters worse, it was pitch black outside and the wind was howling.

Tom hit the table with the palm of his hand in frustration. Madam Pince, the young librarian, looked up from her stack of ledgers in annoyance. Eventually she came and told the fifth year that the library was closing and he had to leave soon or he would not get back to his dormitory before curfew.

He was a prefect, so it did not matter anyways, but he left and started on his night patrol of the corridors that the prefects had to do. He only had to do it for a week once every six weeks, but he enjoyed exploring the halls of Hogwarts, so he took the other Slytherin prefects shifts. This was especially useful because he was searching for the Chamber of Secrets.

As he was patrolling the third floor when he decided to continue his search for the Chamber. He had already formed a hypothesis from his research that the entrance to the Chamber was located on the third floor. On his nightly patrols he had checked most of the classrooms and closets. That meant he was left to search the bathrooms and the Trophy Room.

He started with the Trophy Room. In an ancient document he had come across in the restricted section it had said that the entrance would most likely be denoted with some kind of snake emblem. It took till quarter past midnight to score the entire length of the room for clues. Nothing, but he was too awake now to go back to his dorm and sleep.

He went to check the bathrooms next. The castle was as silent as the grave, and he had to use his wand to guide his way because the torches had gone out. He did the boys bathroom first and found nothing. He supposed he had to do the girls, though why his noble ancestor would want his Chamber located in the girl's lavatory he did not know.

At three o'clock in the morning he found what he was looking for on the tap above the sink in the girl's loo. He turned the tap back and forth, but no water came out. He stared at the tiny emblem of a snake. It could not possibly be a mistake. This had to be the entrance.

With all his research he had become increasingly certain that one would have to use Parseltongue to open the Chamber. After all, only an heir of Slytherin was supposed to be able to enter, and in Wizarding Britain, the only native speakers were descendants of the founder himself.

He wondered if there was a password, but he figured he might as well try the obvious first. "Open," he hissed in the snake language.

What he had wanted for five years happened. The tap glowed white and spun like a top. Then, the entire sink sank below the floor, leaving a hole. To Tom it looked like a massive pipe.

Slytherin's heir was supposed to be able to control the monster. Tom had waited so long to see Slytherin's Chamber that he simply was not going to wait, damn the danger. He was going down there tonight.

He sat on the floor in the lavatory with his legs hanging down the hole. He took a deep breath and pushed himself down. It was exciting. He lit his wand up so he could see the interior of the pipe, and to his surprise, there were many smaller pipes coming off of the one he was in. His pipe continued steeply down for a long time.

Eventually it got less steep, and when it came to the end he had too much momentum to force himself to stop and he came tumbling out the end, skidding across the floor of a stone passage, hitting the adjacent wall. The walls and floor were damp and had a layer of green slimy mould. He crept carefully down the passage, lighting the way with his wand and listening for sounds.

When something beneath his shoes began to make crunching noises, he turned the wandlight down. There were bones scattered all over the floor of the tunnel. At first there were only a few, but as he went on, there were piles.

Tom was nervous, which was unexpected. He was usually quite calm in these situations. After awhile of walking, he came to the end of the passage. It ended with a stone wall, but with two stone snakes carved into it that had glittering jewelled eyes. He wiped his hands on his sweater and hissed, "Open."

The stone parted where the two snakes met in the middle of the wall, opening to allow Tom to walk through. What greeted him was more majestic than he could have imagined. The Chamber was larger than the Great Hall, with stone pillars supporting the high ceiling. As soon as he had entered, torch light had lit up the stone hall.

He continued along the Chamber until he reached the end, where there was a massive statue of who must have been Salazar Slytherin. Tom spent a moment gazing up at his ancestor. According to a document in a book he had bought in Knockturn Alley, the heir of Slytherin could call upon the monster to come out. But what to say? "Open," he tried in Parseltongue, but nothing happened.

The book had said to call upon Slytherin. It was worth a try. "Your heir is here, Slytherin, greatest founder of the four."

Something moved inside the wall behind Slytherin's mouth. He then tried, "Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four."

The mouth of the massive face began to open. Tom stood rooted on the spot, staring as a hole appeared in the wall. "So hungry… So long I have slept…time to kill…"

Tom had not felt terrified in years. As a child at the orphanage he would lie alone in bed after waking up from a nightmare, too afraid to go back to bed. This was the same feeling, but one hundred times more intense.

A basilisk was coming towards him out of Slytherin's mouth. He shut his eyes and managed to hiss, "I'm Slytherin's heir. You must obey ME."

Tom heard the sound of the huge serpent slithering across the floor stop. "You have not the smell of a descendant of the noble founder." It sounded angry.

It began to move again. Tom stumbled back, turning around, and opening his eyes. He ran as fast as he could towards the entrance, but the giant snake was fast. "Please, I'm of the Gaunt family! I have Slytherin's blood! You're supposed to obey me!"

The basilisk continued. "You have not the mark of Slytherin upon your soul."

Tom gave up and ran, ducking behind a pillar. The snake continued hissing about how hungry it was, but no matter where Tom tried to hide, it could sniff him out. At least is was making noise.

Making a quick decision, he jumped out from behind a pillar, squeezing his eyes shut, and shouted, "Somnus!"

It worked. The snake had gone silent and lay against the stone floor, asleep. Tom got out of the Chamber as quickly as possible, so not to still be there when it woke up. He made his way back through the passage, but he didn't know how to get out of the underground Chamber, which must have been below the lake. He could not climb back up the pipe, it was way too steep.

There were other pipes, though, that were not so steep, but were smaller. He supposed he had no other choice but to try to get up to the lavatory through those since if he stayed in the Chamber he would eventually be found by the basilisk and probably eaten.

He climbed into a smaller pipe that he could just fit into that branched off of the bottom of main pipe he had slide down. It too travelled up but at a more slanted rate. With only the light from his wand he crawled up the pipe for hours, passing numerous twists and turns and parts that were so steep and narrow he did not think he could get through, but he did.

Eventually there was a light. He frantically scrabbled towards it. It was coming from a grate in the top of the pipe. He pushed it open and crawled through the small opening, reattaching the grate. He was in a lavatory, but it was not the girl's lavatory on the third floor.

This was a boys' washroom, with showers and a big pool with large taps. It was the prefects lavatory. He sighed in relief. At least he knew where he was.

He checked his watch. Another jolt of panic went through his body when he realized that it was nearing seven o'clock. He had gotten no sleep, was filthy, and the Slytherin dormitory was a ten minute walk.

Luckily, his housemates slept in so he was able to have a quick shower in the boys' lavatory in the dungeons and clean up. Starving, he made it to breakfast just in time. Nott, Avery, Lestrange, and a multitude of his other followers were already crowded around the end of the Slytherin table.

Tom was silent as his housemates made conversation around him about the war.

"Do you think Grindelwald's men will attack Diagon again?" Avery was saying to Lestrange.

"Nah," Lestrange said, his mouth full of bacon. "I reckon no. We had two years of bad attacks and its been a few since the last bad one."

Avery looked kind of disappointed. Tom would be surprised if he was not enjoying the war and all the gruesome excitement it brought, but at the moment he was too preoccupied with the Chamber situation to concentrate on the conversation. He was pretty sure that the entrance had sealed after he had slid down the pipe, but what if it hadn't? What if the basilisk was roaming the school at that very moment?

One thing was certain. Tom had to destroy all his research as soon as possible. It was too dangerous. The giant serpent was too unpredictable and Tom never wanted to enter the Chamber again. It should be shut up.

After Charms class, when he had a study period, Tom made his way to the third floor girls' loo. Looking both ways down the hall, he made sure no one was in sight and slid into the room. Looking around, he realized that thankfully the entrance was sealed. He fingered the copper tap. He hoped it would stay that way.

His next objective was to destroy the journal he had been writing his notes and thoughts in the Chamber this whole year, plus countless other papers and notebooks he had collected over the years that were now stuffed into his bag. He found his way to an empty classroom in the dungeon where he knew there was a fireplace and lit a fire in the grate with his wand.

He removed the notebooks and papers from the bag but could not bring himself to place them in the fire. It had take him five years to compile countless notebooks about Slytherin, the founders, the castle, and the Chamber. It would be so useless to destroy it now. He replaced the documents in his bag and left the classroom.

He did not notice another boy watching him in the shadows of the dungeon. Although it was midmorning, the dungeons were dark and it had been easy for Rookwood to stalk Tom on his morning jaunt, although he'd been confused as to why the prefect had been lurking around the girl's loo.

Rookwood followed Tom back to the library, although he did not notice. Tom began his Ancient Runes readings but soon fell asleep over the book, his bag on the chair beside him.

Rookwood, who was sitting at the table a little ways away, approached Tom across the carpeted floor. He stood over him for a moment, checking to see if anyone else was in sight. They weren't, since the library was quiet midmorning when most students had classes.

He transferred the research from Tom's bag to his, as he had been curious as to what the Slytherin prefect had almost destroyed in the deserted classroom.

What Augustus Rookwood found would propel him to greatness.