'Good evening, Tom. Please sit down.' The calm, annoying voice of Albus Dumbledore made the visitor want to absolutely tear him apart. Tom. How he hated that common-man's name. No, he was Lord Voldemort. Tom Marvolo Riddle was long gone from everyone except Dumbledore's unbearably sharp mind. Still, for the first time in his life, he did not contradict him for using his former name. It would take an effort but what he had in his mind was far more important.

'Good evening, Dumbledore.'

'What brings you here tonight? Would you like some hot tea? It would do you good in such horrible weather. You might just catch a cold, you know. Well, that would probably do us some good, eh? Colds are the most harmless yet most useful way to handicap a wizard. No spell comes right when you've got one. So,' he paused, his eyes containing the ever-present twinkle and his thumbs twiddling irritatingly, 'I will be a wise-old man and not offer you anything at all.' Again he paused then started speaking for the second time. 'But that would be very rude, very rude indeed. I can't be rude can I? Let's see…'

Dumbledore's blue eyes scanned the room intimidating-ly before they stopped on a shelf with several glass bottles of different colors. Each was labeled with bold black block letters. To Voldemort, however, one single bottle seemed to stand out like a single strand of hair on a bald head. Thinking about hair made Voldemort want to vomit, for he had very bad experiences with it. Interesting to some though it might be, now was not the correct time to empty his stomach of such revolting yellow waste. So instead he concentrated on the bottle. It was tinted green and the parchment that was attached to it (with Spellotape rather that a Permanent Sticking Charm, undoubtedly put by the Muggle-mind whiz-wizard himself) read 'Goblin-made Poison.

The first thing that troubled Voldemort was the poison. Then remembering that he was magically protected against almost all sorts of poison, he concentrated on the goblin-made part. Needless to say, the goblin's powers had enabled them to make the poison too strong to be opposed. Most criminal masterminds have given up ancient and powerful weapons for single barrels of this mead. It is more fatal than Avada Kedavra too, for that spell has one tiny little flaw in it. Past experiences with that spell include a lucky boy called Potter and a stupid mother called Potter as well. However, that too is a story for another time.

'Goblin-made poison sound nice, no? The warmth will make you feel better. Perhaps you would also feel some remorse. It would definitely do you good. Or maybe…' In a flash of a moment Dumbledore was a tiny hair's (ugh, hair again!) breadth away from him, a silver jeweled sword with the name 'Godric Gryffindor' engraved on it just inches away from Voldemort's throat. He had magical protections put up around him so he was certain that the sword couldn't harm him in any way. Still, if the old man had such speed, Voldemort could use him even more that he intended to.

'Oh come on, now, Dumbledore! I just want to talk to you. I swear. No fatalities tonight please. I mean business here.'

'Well, Tom, I'm not here to play marbles either. I only agreed to meet you because I believe in second chances. Not even my own oaths can stop me from giving those to people.'

'It doesn't seem like you're giving me any chance at all Dumbledore. You just attempted to kill me.'

'I attempted to scare you or at the very least, warn you of my power, Tom. You are still living. Do not blame me for being such an insufferable show-off.' His expression was cold, but his eyes twinkled like always. 'So, would you care to answer my previous question: what brings you here?'

'I have a plan, Dumbledore. A plan to kill Harry Potter and,' he paused and raised a finger for Dumbledore showed all signs to interrupt, 'to rule the world with you as my servant.' Once again, Dumbledore aimed at interrupting and once again he raised a finger. 'Being my servant is the highest post I can offer and I shall give you whatever you want. Whatever. All you have to do is ask. Come on Dumbledore…come on anything you want…'

'I see…'

'Yes Dumbledore…anything you want…'

'Well Tom, if you think that I can be bribed into killing my own student then you are very wrong, Tom, very, very wrong indeed.' Though not unexpected, Dumbledore's reply made him suddenly alert of how difficult it would be to persuade him to help in killing that Potter boy.

Voldemort looked around the room. There must be something that would cause Dumbledore to succumb to his plan. There was his phoenix sitting in a corner, but no, that wouldn't help. The portrait of Phineas Black could be useful, he was a Slytherin too…but Black wasn't persuasive enough. Then at last, his extraordinarily sharp eyes fell on Dumbledore's wand. The Deathstick. It was vital that the stick should be used in his plan, the only reason he wanted Dumbledore in the plan. It was true, he could kill Dumbledore and take it but it was also true that the Deathstick was the most powerful wand in the entire world. I might just have to lose my body all over again and have that useless Pettigrew to help me revive it. No this was simpler.

Back to the Deathstick, he saw markings on it. It was a triangle and there was a line in the middle of it. There was a circle too, inscribed in a way so as too touch all the sides of the triangle. Voldemort remembered that sign. He had definitely seen it somewhere. I racked my brains, though it took me some time to recall that symbol (his brain had too much in it). He saw in his memories a ring. The ring. The ring of the Gaunt family. My own Horcruxal ring had that very symbol on it.

'What is that symbol, Dumbledore?'

'Something that doesn't concern you, Tom. You would do well to leave.'

'But you see, Dumbledore, this concerns me very much. That symbol, that very symbol was on one of my…ancestral belongings. It is vital that I should know what it means. The inheritance means a lot to me and I should want to know its historic as well as magical importance.'

'Your family Tom had many things for you to inherit. I cannot recall seeing anything with that particular symbol on it. Would you be kind enough to describe the object?'

I thought about it. The ring would not betray any hints of my Horcrux. I could describe it to him. 'It is a ring, Dumbledore. A plain stone ring with scratches creating that symbol on it.'

'Ah! A ring, how interesting! Well, I haven't seen that ring as far as I remember but perhaps if you showed it to me…'

'Show it to you? So that you should steal it and use it for your own purposes? Never! But I must know what that symbol stands for Dumbledore, I must. You would understand, wouldn't you? My thirst for knowledge…you understand right?'

'I'm sorry Tom. This is not to be shared with anyone. And anyways the story behind this is too maddening to believe. Few actually do and those who do are not considered very reliable with knowledge as ancient as this. It shall do you no good at all.'

'Dumbledore, you have to tell me or I shall find out on my own.' It was not a believable statement, but Tom Marvolo Riddle would never ever give up the chance for knowledge…especially that which is not to be spoken of.

'Good luck with that, Tom,' said Dumbledore. 'I would like to see your results when they arrive.'

'This is not homework, Dumbledore. But you may be assured…I will be back.' And with that superb and dramatic announcement Voldemort stormed right out of the room.

At the gate Voldemort happened to walk right into a man wearing fluorescent green robes. Thanks to his disguise the man would not recognize him as The Dark Lord. So he took a moment to notice the man. Apart from his bright robes, he wore a rather funky hat. A single chain hung down his neck with a symbol strung through it. The symbol was a triangle with a line passing through it and a circle touching all three sides inscribed in it.