The year was actually uneventful as regards to Harry's memories. He spent a lot of time alone. Voldemort mostly sat down next to Harry comforting him as his younger self started hearing voices and was left to be alone. After a while Tom conjured some popcorn, Harry smiled smally.

Tom hated it, the year went on and The fire it Harry's eyes seemed to dull down to a simple flame. Tom always had a thing for that light, but he was also feeling other things he didn't understand.

When Myrtle started hitting on Harry Tom couldn't help but get a little possessive of Harry. His judginess also spiked and he started to telling the ghost just what is and was wrong with her.

"Oh please. She alway was an overdramatic bitch." Voldemort said with his arm over Harry's shoulder. He didn't notice, but Harry did. He sighed. "You know Tom, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were jealous." He teased. Tom looked at Harry shocked, a light pink dusted his cheeks. "Jealous! Why would I be jealous? What even made you think that?" He asked, just before realizing his arm.

Coughing awkwardly, Tom removed his arm from Harry, who only chuckled. Tom watched Harry's eyes. A spark. There was a spark in his eyes just then.

Next memory. There seemed to be a bit of light returning to little Harry's eyes as well. Today was Quitage against Hufflepuff. Sadly it was canceled.

Harry looked a little down as he watched Ron and him be lead to the hospital wing. Hermione.

Oh dear.

Time passed. Even Tom was pleased with Hermione when they found her paper. He had a growing respect for the muggle born.

Everything kinda flew by still. Until the chamber. Harry looked at the sink. "Say something. Harry, say something in parseltongue." Harry took a breath. "Open sesame!" He hissed.

Voldemort died of laughter. His joy stopped when little Harry confronted... him.

They both watched their second (technically 3rd) face off. From the bascalis to the tooth. Harry stabbed that book and Voldemort cringed. He looks at Harry. "That hurt!" Harry just smirked back. Tom sighed. "Yeah, I get it." They were doing that every once in awhile. One wouldn't say a thing, but somehow the other knew what they meant.

Next memory had them in Dumbledore's office. Harry grew so sad every time he saw the old man.

Ron had left and now Harry stood with the headmaster. "I couldn't help but notice certain similarities between Tom and I." Harry said. Voldemort was listening close, Harry had always always called him Tom? Interesting. "You can speak parseltongue, why? Because lord Voldemort could speak parseltongue." Tom's attention was now on the old man. "If I'm not mistaken, the night He gave you that scar, lord Voldemort transferred some of his powers to you." What? Tom thought. His mind was racing. How?! He look at Harry who seemed unsurprised. Did Harry know why?

Voldemort was lost in thought for the rest of the school year, not that much was left.

What exactly happened that night?