Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Harry and Dumbledore had made good progress over the summer with his wandless magical abilities. He had made Harry promise that every spell he learned during the school year he'd practice at the end of the day on his own wandlessly. The two would get together on Sundays for Harry to learn more; Dumbledore had started teaching him how to cast nonverbally as well. He just couldn't get the nonverbal spells to work with his wand, but without his wand it was easier for him to cast his magic without speaking. He had an easier time trying to guide his magic with his intent than with his words, but something about his wand seemed to be holding him back.

He'd gotten extremely frustrated by this one Sunday in October, making a loud groan that bordered on shouting after the umpteenth time trying to cast a lumos through his wand without saying the spell.

"I don't get it, shouldn't it be harder to do it wandlessly without talking?"

"Not necessarily. You see, casting wandlessly already has an element of intent to it. You're guiding your magic to do what you want it to. You're essentially moulding it to take the form you want it to take; but wands aren't meant to operate the same way. They channel magic, allowing your spell to tell the wand what you want the magic to do. The wand moulds the magic for you based on the spell you decide to use. A lot of wizards and witches have a hard time with nonverbal spells, especially at first. But time with your wand, letting it learn how to read you and learning how to communicate with it about what you want to happen takes time and experience. I'm not surprised it's harder with your wand; you have to learn how to tell it what you want it to do without speaking directly." The two call it a day after that and Harry goes to join his friends in the common room for a little while before heading to dinner.

Things were calm until the message on the wall informing the castle that the Chamber of Secrets had been opened. Harry didn't hesitate the first time he thought he heard a voice when no one else heard it and Dumbledore had told him to simply write down what he hears and when he hears it and to send those reports back to him after classes. Harry, happy at being taken seriously, did exactly that. All the times he heard a quiet whisper of anything that no one else heard he wrote down what it had said, where he was when it happened and what direction it was coming from.

It wasn't until Mrs. Norris was petrified that Dumbledore said anything further about it to Harry. He told him of the legends of the Chamber of Secrets and told him that he was certain he'd figured out where the entrance was but that he didn't have a way to get in. He strongly suspected only a parselmouth would be able to get it to open and Harry offered his help. If half the school was going to believe that he was the heir of Slytherin then he may as well try to stop whatever was happening.

Dumbledore, after a long pause for consideration, told him he'd allow Harry to help if Harry agreed to let Professor Snape come to protect him. Dumbledore told him that the creature he believes is a basilisk, a very dangerous creature and wouldn't be able to protect Harry and take the monster down on his own. Reluctantly, Harry concedes. Professor Snape may hate him, but Dumbledore trusted him.

The trio met after dinner that weekend at Dumbledore's office. Snape and Harry were led to a girl's toilet, much to their surprise, and Dumbledore simply shrugged at their expressions before leading them in.

"What better way to keep prying eyes from snooping than by utilizing a girl's bathroom?"

"Hiding in plain sight...a clever idea." Snape managed to sound impressed, something Harry never thought he'd ever live to see.

"Harry, come over. This tap, I believe, holds the key. Do you think you could speak to it in parseltongue?" Sure enough, a silver snake was what made the design of the faucet, the body creating an elegant curve and the mouth wide open to allow water to pass through should someone try to turn it on.

He wasn't sure what to say, or even how to make himself speak in the language of snakes, but instinct pushed him to imagine the snake moving, to pretend it was real. When he told it to open, the sink made a clanging noise and Harry backed away quickly, only to be held behind Snape's robes. The man was in a clearly defensive position, wand out and at the ready. He was surprised to feel safer knowing that it was Snape protecting him. Perhaps it was the serious way he took the situation? Harry couldn't see any of the other teachers taking the danger this seriously if they were the ones here instead of Snape.

The trip into the bowels of the school was uneventful until the three heard water sloshing up ahead. Harry was ushered back to the previous room by Snape and was given a blindfold.

"Wear this. Basilisks can kill you if you catch it's eye. Wear this and don't move."

He could hear Dumbledore and Snape casting spell after spell; the magic from them flowed from the room over him and instead of worrying he tried to pick out spells they were casting. A loud trill came from behind him as Fawkes flew by and a few short seconds later he heard a terrible screech from the basilisk. It was screaming in pain, hissing about it's eyes and from the sound of the water it was thrashing around.

He wanted desperately to pull the blindfold off, but he remembered Snape's words and firmly resolved to leave it over his eyes.

There was a few more spells and then a long pause of silence before hands were on his shoulders. His blindfold was pulled off and he opened his eyes to see Snape standing next to him with one corner of his mouth turned up.

"I'm surprised you listened." Harry shrugged and asked about Dumbledore. "He's fine. Fawkes destroyed the monster's eyes so we could kill it. He's currently checking to ensure no other dangerous creatures are running around down here."

"Can...Can I see it?" Harry didn't expect Snape to lead him back into the chamber and he definitely didn't expect to see a snake that big. "What are we going to do with that? It's not like you can drag that around the castle!"

He caught Snape rolling his eyes in amusement. "Certainly not. I'll be harvesting a multitude of different potion ingredients to use in my personal studies. Anything else will either be sourced for sale or taken in small batches out to a small island in the lake and burned." The two waited patiently for Dumbledore to return. He was carrying a woven basket full to the brim of books. He had a rather smug look on his face as the three grabbed onto Fawkes's tail to be flashed directly back to Dumbledore's office. Harry was sent on his way with a promise from Dumbledore that as soon as he could categorize all of the things he'd found in the chamber he'd explain what he found.

It wasn't until that summer that Harry heard any more of what Dumbledore had discovered.

Apparently he had found memories-vials and vials full of them-from when some kid named Tom Riddle had been at school.

"But who is Tom Riddle? Why's it so important that you found his memories?" He swore Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling.

"Tom Riddle was an orphan who grew up and changed his name to something far more sinister. Tom Riddle grew up to become Lord Voldemort." Harry blanched, although he started to understand why Tom Riddle was important.

"But sir, I still don't understand why his memories are important."

"Ah, our pasts shape us as who we are; who we become. These memories can explain to us why he has wandered so far off the beaten path and while I have some ideas already this will only tell me more than what I already know. In addition to that, I believe he's done something to prevent himself from fully dying. I don't have any proof of that, and I'm hoping these memories will either confirm or deny it so I can figure out what really happened the night he killed your parents." Strangely enough, this made sense although he wasn't sure just how long Dumbledore would have to spend going through all the memories. There were crates full of them piled around the office, all labeled different years.

"Now, as for why I've come; I want you to join me in watching some select memories. I won't show you all of them, especially since the content does tend to get a bit disturbing later on, but I've selected several from the first crate that I think would be beneficial for us to see." Harry nodded and at Dumbledore's prompting he pressed his face into a bowl filled with swirling silver liquid.

He felt like he'd been falling forever when his feet finally hit solid ground. He looked around and saw Dumbledore watching a young little boy with pale skin and hair the colour of Honeydukes milk chocolate.

"That, my boy, is Tom Riddle."

They'd only gone through four or five memories when Harry told Dumbledore he wished someone had been Tom's friend. The boy was lonely; that much was obvious. He tried to fit in, but children shunned him at every opportunity. A multitude of slurs constantly were aimed his way, in addition to being called mad multiple times a day. So it was no surprise when he finally snapped one day and his magic hung a boy's rabbit from the rafters. It had been dead before Tom had even seen it, and the child had blamed him for the small animal passing away.

The sight of the dead rabbit had affected Tom, that was plain to see. He was just as upset as the other boy, and being told it was his fault made his magic snap. The bunny hung from the rafters, taunting Tom with it's swaying body. The anguish was easy to see in his face.

Tom didn't try talking to any of the other children after that. He avoided the adults as much as possible and spent all of his time alone or talking to the occasional garden snake outside when the weather was nice. Harry couldn't help but feel like if someone had offered an olive branch, Tom Riddle likely wouldn't have turned into Lord Voldemort.

It turns out that Dumbledore agreed with him. Tom had no one to rely on, no one to be able to socialize with or to learn right from wrong. He stopped communicating with others and they were content to let him alone.

The next day they delved into the time that Dumbledore had met him to teach him about magic existing and to deliver his Hogwarts letter. Tom had treated him with suspicion and had even demanded he go to Diagon Alley on his own.

Dumbledore hadn't allowed it, he told Tom he needed adult supervision in an entirely new world. Tom had only agreed because Dumbledore had gotten to leave when he remained silent for too long.

"Fine, I'll do it." It was obvious that he would have rather been alone but the fact of the matter was he was a child and didn't know the area they'd be in. A part of Harry believed that Tom knew he wouldn't be able to make it in a strange world, with no maps, and no knowledge of how anything worked. It would have been fine if he wanted to meander muggle London on his own but Diagon Alley wouldn't go over for him well unless he had someone there to guide him.

The Diagon Alley trip was relatively boring. Tom only bought what was required and when Dumbledore asked him if he wanted an extra book for light reading, Tom had picked out a large tome that looked far too difficult for a child his age-although, Harry had reasoned that Hermione likely would have been able to read it at that age so it wasn't out of the realm of possibility.

The next memory was of Tom on the Hogwarts Express. You could visibly see the boy take like a fish to water when other first year students reached out to him, to include him. He was a natural born leader and they clearly looked up to him.

Dumbledore then showed him his memory of the first time Tom had laid eyes on the castle. He had clearly been swept away at the castle, but he reached out and touched the stone wall of the entrance and his face positively lit up.

"He could feel the magic of the castle at such a young age. It's something that not very many students ever experience, and they're usually older when they do. I was astounded at how in-tune he was with magic with no formal training. He had so much time to himself he started training himself. He was an extraordinary student-excelled in everything we could possibly give him. He was top of the school-even Miss Granger can't beat his test scores on the end of year finals." Harry's jaw dropped. Hermione was bloody smart; he couldn't imagine someone smarter than her.

"You know," Dumbledore continued. "Your scores have drastically improved as well since your first summer here. I can only imagine that you might end up surpassing Miss Granger at some point in the future."

"What, but no one is smarter than Hermione!" Dumbledore chuckled at his exclamation.

"While it is difficult for many to match her in intelligence, she lacks the innate ability you and Tom have for understanding how magic works at its core. You and Tom both are capable of wandless magic-why do you think this is?"

This pulled Harry short. He hadn't really thought about it, just had been grateful that it was something he could do.

"I...I'm not sure, sir. I'm just...I'm able to feel it in me and sort of coax it to do what I want it to do."

"Correct, and that takes an incredible amount of skill that most people don't possess. Most witches and wizards aren't in tune with magic in such a way, they simply know that they have access to magic and use their wands for the rest. Miss Granger is one of those people. She thrives on telling her wand how to direct her magic, but something tells me she wouldn't do so well if she tried to mould her magic without her wand. While her answers are textbook-and sometimes quite insightful-she will never have the ability to experiment with her magic the way that you or Tom can. This gives you an advantage; you understand how magic works innately. You can explain why things happen the way they do when magic is involved which is what gave Tom the upper edge."

Dumbledore didn't have any other memories lined up for him that day, but when he returned there was more waiting for him.

They went through crate after crate after crate of memories, always ending with Harry understanding Tom Riddle more and more. He could understand why such a young boy had felt betrayed by the world and he could very easily see how someone in his position could be driven to the brink of madness, only to have magic-the one thing he ever trusted-push him over the edge.

By the end of the summer, Harry's heart hurt for the boy named Tom Riddle.