"You told Voldemort that I was the most powerful wizard in the world, didn't you?" Albus Dumbledore's blue eyes drilled into the black haired boy in front of him.
"Yes, sir." Harry Potter answered, adjusting his grip on the sword of Godric Gyrffindor. Fawkes, the beautiful phoenix, perched on Dumbledore's shoulder, cocking his head and watching Harry with little black eyes. The room was filled with whirring and whining devices, and of course, lining the walls were moving portraits of past head teachers. They watched him, whispering and scurrying to neighboring frames. Harry thought it was truly distracting, especially as his eyes fluttered tiredly. Only a few hours before, Harry and Fawkes had entered the Chamber of Secrets and defeated the basilisk and a version of Lord Voldemort.
"There was a witch I once know. She was beyond powerful. Her very body seemed to elicit magic and she never needed a wand to perform spells. With only a glance, she could destroy Voldemort." Dumbledore stood and walked towards a brown closet. With a simple gesture, he threw open the doors, revealing a marble basin, filled with blue and silver liquid. One hand clutched the rim while the other held a wand, stirring the substance. "This is a pensive. A place to, ah, collect my thoughts, for say."
Harry nodded, his mind gently drifting. It flashed to Tom Marvolo Riddle's angry gray eyes, Ginny's crumpled body, the fear of the basilisk.
"I just place my wand to my temple and draw out the memory, letting it settle with the rest of my memories . . ." Dumbledore stared into the basin, his eyes blank, remembering moments from long ago.
"Sir?"
"Sorry, Harry, yes, the dear witch, Naomi. She went to school with Voldemort, or, at the time, Tom Riddle. I knew her, and I'm embarrassed to say, I once tried to harness her power. I thought I could teach her to control her power, her quick temper, but I was wrong." A troubled look passed over Dumbledore's face. "If only I hadn't. If only she had seen the monster before it was too late." He sighed, stroking Fawkes with pale, long fingers. Only when Fawkes squeaked did Dumbledore remember Harry's presence. Harry couldn't recall a time he ever saw Dumbledore so forgetful and distressed.
"What happened to her?" Through leaden exhaustion, Harry felt a spark of curiosity at what Dumbledore was saying.
"Disappeared, vanishing from the face of the Earth. It is a blessing that the Ministry never learned of her."
"Didn't you say she could destroy Voldemort?"
"Oh, yes, she easily could."
"Why didn't she?"
"One day, you will understand that, but for now, focus on her power. Creatures, like the basilisk and giants, cowered beneath her. She could change day to night with an effortless wave of her hand. Naomi could see something in her mind and make it real. Her only barrier was herself and she understood it. Voldemort would go to lengths to capture her and use her, since he was powerless to destroy her."
"Do you think Voldemort had to do with her disappearance, sir?" Harry straightened up.
"Voldemort has everything to do with her disappearance."
FOUR YEARS LATER. . .
"What are those lessons you go to about, Harry?" Ron Weasley walked behind Harry, tilting his head questioning.
"He shows me past memories of Voldemort." Harry stopped at Dumbledore's office entry. "Blast-Ended Skrewts." He smiled at the choice of password. In honor of Hagrid, of course.
"Like what?" Hermione burst into the conversation.
"Many things." Harry smiled mysteriously. His two friends glowered disapprovingly. "Oh, come on, I was only jesting. I'll tell you when I get back." He climbed onto the moving staircase and let it elevate him to the wooden doors that led to Dumbledore's office.
Dumbledore greeted him with a smile and a wave of his good hand. His other hand was crippled and had the appearance of badly charred wood.
"Hello, sir." Harry took the seat opposite the headmaster, putting his hands on the armrest.
"Harry, Voldemort wasn't always evil. Yes, he was a twisted child with aggressive ambition, but his bitterness came from lack of love. His mother, as you know, died giving birth to him and did not raise a wand in defense to save herself. It left a large scar of his little heart and would soon consume his whole soul, if not for one person. She would heal him to an extent, but there is some pain that never fades, no matter who loves us. She did save the one good part of him, the Tom Riddle part."
"But, sir, you showed me that memory of when he stole the other children's' toys? He was wicked from the start."
"He didn't steal them for sake of stealing toys. He stole them because they were trophies of his greatest deeds. In some ways, Naomi is a trophy to him, though I think Tom did love her. Voldemort views her as a tool, even a threat if she were to leave. Do you remember me speaking of Naomi? It was four long years ago, when you were a young twelve-year-old."
Harry picked his brain, searching memories from the night of his defeat of the basilisk. "Wait, isn't she the most powerful witch alive?"
"Yes," Dumbledore looked pleased, his eyes twinkling, "Voldemort's favorite treasure. A part of him, his entity."
"I thought she disappeared."
"Disappeared? Yes. Alive? Of course. Naomi is a clever child. Even Voldemort respected her . . . Feared her, even. He was afraid of losing her."
"With that, today, we will have another trip down memory lane." Dumbledore motioned for Harry to stand and walked towards the pentacle, "I have two very special memories for you today. One my own and the other Naomi's."
Harry and Dumbledore neared the basin and Harry felt that familiar tug as he was jerked into the silvery liquid. He tumbled into the memory, stumbling for a moment before regaining composure. Dumbledore followed, with a much more graceful landing.
The pair were back in Dumbledore's office, except a much younger Dumbledore stood behind a dropping fellow. "Armando Dippet." Dumbledore whispered to Harry.
Dippet was watching a beautiful pale-haired girl. She stared back with a practiced coolness. "Yes, sir?" Her voice was soft, pleasant, but sorrowful. The girl looked like a fallen angel, lost and forlorn in the mortal world.
"I think it's time you are presented to the Ministry of Magic." Dippet coughed. He was obviously sick, frail, almost lacking in any physical health.
"And if I refuse?" the girl raised an eyebrow sharply, her green eyes steeling over.
"I'm sorry, but we must, Miss Tarvey. One with your talents needs to be given the best path." Dippet straightened up in his chair, regaining some composure. "It is my duty as headmaster to appoint special wizards and witches to help the wizarding community."
"I am not your play toy." Tarvey stood up, baring her teeth, her whole body tense and angry. She was a coiled spring, ready to trip.
"You are just a prize to Ministry." Dippet sighed. He was too old, too tired, too sick, to lie to the girl.
"Armando." Dumbledore warned him, touching his shoulder. "Calm down."
With a spin, Tarvey pointed her finger at Dumbledore. Dumbledore backed away slowly, as if she held a gun to his chest. "You! You tried to make me your pet! I AM NO ONE'S."
"But Lord Voldemort's." Dumbledore muttered, "Oh, yes, are you surprised that I know his 'secret' name?"
Tarvey glared at him and Dumbledore collapsed on the floor, convulsing. "Voldemort does not control me, sir. I am my own."
"MISS TARVEY. Stop that, this instant!" Dippet raised his wand and knocked Tarvey's legs from underneath her. Unprepared for the attack, she had to defense and fell, losing her concentration. Dumbledore stood quickly, brushing himself off. "Now, Miss, if you don't go quietly, we will send for force."
"Do as you wish, sir." Tarvey smiled cherubically.
Dumbledore looked nervous, swallowing, "Armando . . ."
"I won't go and you will never make me." Tarvey growled, the smile disappearing as fast as it appeared.
"I must." Dippet sighed, clapping his hands. Seven strong men, armed with wands and magical objects approached her.
"Sir! Her hands are glowing." Harry pointed at Tarvey's hands.
"Just watch, Harry." Dumbledore answered.
A flash of light exploded through the room; the three closest men lay on the ground, stunned or dead. A young man appeared, his dark wavy hair setting his gray eyes glowing.
"Tom." Tarvey's reaction was strange; a flash of pink blush creeping up her neck, a grimace, and her eyes saddening.
"Naomi." Tom Riddle pulled out his wand and pointed it at Dippet. "You are the one who caused all this trouble with bringing her to the Ministry. You must die."
"Tom! You, you . . . you were my trusted student. So brilliant! So strong, destined for greatness. I even put in a good word for you at the Ministry!" Dippet pleaded, "Please, Tom . . ."
"The Ministry!" Riddle laughed, "I have far greater plans than the Ministry, sir. And now the teacher becomes the student. I fear you haven't taught us this spell yet. Avada Kadarva!" A flash of green light illuminated the fear in Dippet's eyes before they became glassy with death. Riddle's lips twitched and Tarvey watched Dippet fall from his chair in horror. Everyone turned, stunned, but all men present threw Stunning spells in Riddle and Tarvey's direction. Tarvey grabbed Riddle and threw up her arm; they disappeared, leaving a blue flash.
"Time to go, Harry." Dumbledore tugged on Harry's arm and they were sent spinning into another memory. . .
"Tom, listen to me!" It was Naomi Tarvey again, this time, with only loving sorrow. "You can't do this to yourself."
"I need to be the most powerful ever." Riddle answered softly, his eyes downcast. He was almost innocent looking. "Live forever."
"Oh, because killing yourself slowly is living!" Tarvey pushed Riddle against the wall, tears burning her eyes.
"We all can't live forever without aid. Like some people, Naomi." He snapped back.
"Please, Tom, I love you. All of you in one, not in pieces." Tarvey pushed forward, kissing Tom, the tears sliding down her cheeks.
"I love you too." Riddle broke away and tucked a strand of blond hair behind Tarvey's hair, "I am so sorry, my dearest love. I am so very sorry."
And in this fallen angel's arms, Lord Voldemort, Tom Marvolo Riddle, The Dark Lord, began to cry.
"Sir, sir! Lord Voldemort said I love you to someone!" Harry almost shouted the words in distraught confusion. This made the Dark Lord almost human. . .
"No, Lord Voldemort did not say love. Tom Riddle did. Over the years, I'm beginning to see them as two completely different people."
"Dippet. . . He killed you!" Harry pointed to Armando Dippet's portrait.
"Yes, he killed me." Armando remarked drily, "He was very clever. Always my favorite student."
"I am so confused, sir." Harry cradled his head in his hands, "If Voldemort is capable of love, then why ddi my mother's love hurt him?"
"I don't think the Tom Riddle part of him is inside of him anymore. I think it is a specific horacrux."
"Wait, Naomi might be a horacrux then?"
"I called Naomi his entity. Nagini means entity."
"Nagini is Naomi and she's a horacrux?"
"I assume so. I also don't think he gave her that part; she stole it from his soul when he was most vulnerable."
"Does that mean I must kill Nagini?"
"We have yet to figure that out, Harry."