Tom was fidgeting, and nervous. What was he some first year mudblood? He was better than this. He was destined for great things. He was the heir of Salazar Slytherin. And what was he nervous about? A class. The greatest wizard of his age and he was nervous before class. Well not class exactly, but it was close enough. No one else could ever make him feel like this, of course it was that man, the one that had told him he was special, that he was a wizard; the man that had saved him from the scum at that orphanage. Every time Dumbledore looked at him with those blue eyes he felt like he was being held to the spot and Dumbledore could see inside of his soul, know his secrets.

He was too powerful to let any man get to him like this, but those blue eyes. He was always there waiting and concerned. He knew about the Chamber, and that the disgusting half giant hadn't opened it. He always knew. They were connected.

"Tom do you have something to share with the rest of the class?"

His mind froze, how long had he been standing in the middle of the classroom?

"Ah. Well Professor I was just going to ask about the upcoming exams and if we were going to be having any review sessions prior to them…"

"Of course, always preparing for your next move eh Tom?" Dumbledore's eyes were sparkling as he spoke, "Is there anything else?"

"No sir."

"Well if you'll kindly take your seat, we'll begin"

Tom blinked and he sat down next to Walburga Black. She had no respect for him, but he understood her hatred of him, he was raised by muggles; that made him practically a mudblood.

"Oh Riddle, awestruck as usual by the Great Dumbledore? Today you could barely contain yourself are you going to go sniff his seat after this?"

He turned slowly to face her. He wanted nothing more than to feed her to the basilisk, or to make her writhe with pain, and force his way into her mind to make her scream and beg for his mercy. She had been gazing back at him lording her status over him until that moment. Her eyes widened and she looked horrified. She quickly turned and faced the Dumbledore. Who had come over to their desk, and had laid his hand on Tom's shoulder.

"Is everything alright my dear boy? You look positively menacing, perhaps you should take a break from today's lesson."

Dumbledore straightened and went over to check on the some of the other students' progress. Tom felt a hot rush go over him. Menacing? Really? What a day, what a rush. He was positively giddy! Of course Waburga would ruin this moment by acting like a wounded animal when talking to Orion, weren't they cousins or something more distantly related?

Class was over and he started to gather his things, and made his way back down to the dungeon to head to the Slytherin common room. He might stop in and see Slughorn. Yes, his head of house would love to see his most promising pupil. That pompous old man could never turn down flattery, or a promising student with a desire to learn. Who better than the most gifted student to grace Hogwarts since Dumbledore himself. He was almost out of the room when he heard a slight cough behind him. He stopped on the spot and turned.

"Tom, what has so changed your demeanor in the past fifteen minutes of class? I rarely get to see you look so positively… positive" Dumbledore chuckled.

"I'm on my way to see Professor Slughorn about a potions assignment."

"Well I'm glad to see you are pursuing your academic career so fiercely, but perhaps you need to take an interest in something outside of school work? Everyone needs a little amusement in their lives! I do worry about you Tom, your upbringing was not to be desired, and…"

"I have to go Professor."

Tom abruptly dashed out of the classroom, leaving Dumbledore looking shocked and hurt? Or was that just his imagination? Of course it was why would Professor Dumbledore look so hurt at his leaving? Did he stop him just to talk and the conversation took a bad turn? Was Dumbledore reaching out to him? Trying to get closer too him and he messed it up. But if Dumbledore knew anything about him he would know that his upbringing was off limits. He was a wizard now, not a filthy muggle. He was special, the most talented wizard of his age, probably of any age. None could deny that he was a perfect specimen of wizarding power. But then Dumbledore wouldn't know what it was like to have to over come one's upbringing to become great.

He had walked automatically to the dungeon as he thought. He was outside of Slughorn's office when he remembered his last private meeting with the professor at the end of last year…

"Enter."

"Hallo Professor Slughorn!"

"Tom Riddle, my dear boy to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

"I just had a couple of questions to ask, I was writing a paper for my Defense Against the Dark Arts class and I came across the mention of something curious and I wanted to ask someone…"

"Of course my boy you wanted to ask someone knowledgeable that you trusted, and who better than your head of house?"

Tom had visibly angered at Slughorn's interruption, but he quickly reigned in his anger talking with Slughorn was a test of his patience because the professor was so full of himself and hardly let anyone get a word in edgewise. But he knew that Slughorn was his best chance to get his question answered without too many problems or prying questions. The old man would be pleased; that such a talented student was confiding in him.

"As I was saying Professor, I had to take a book out of the Restricted Section of the Library and I came across the mention of a horcrux"

"That's very dark magic indeed Tom, I wouldn't know anything about that sort of thing…"

"But Professor you haven't even heard my question! I'm confident that someone of your esteem would know something as simple as a 5th year Hogwarts' student's query."

"Ho ho, well of course lad I'll do my best to answer you question, but I don't want you to be disappointed because very few people, even me, hard to believe I know! Have an extensive knowledge of horcruxes."

"Well, my question is simple sir, could one, if one was inclined to, create more than one horcrux?" Tom's eyes were gleaming as he waited for his answer. This was his ticket to immortality; this would make it so he would never have something as common as a death. He would be unstoppable, if only Slughorn would get over his fear of being thought of as a wizard with dark leanings and tell him what he knew. It really was a pity he couldn't just use Legilimency to pull the information he wanted from the professor.

"… Well boy, I think that it would be possible for someone to have more than one horcrux though even one is a terrible strain, to have an incomplete soul, let alone one split in to many pieces would be tortuous. But one would have to commit many unspeakable acts to…" Slughorn stopped as he noticed Tom's joyous face.

"Multiple murders"

"Ah... erm… y-yes my boy"

"Thank you professor you have sated my curiosity on the matter, have a good evening I'll see you tomorrow at potions!" Tom dashed out of the room before Slughorn could finish his farewells. As soon as he was far enough away he slowed, and began idly walking around the dungeon and taking comfort in the familiar path. He walked slowly without purpose. No particular place to be, he had the evening off. His homework finished. His duties with the Chamber could take a night off. It would probably be for the best, he had been causing a bit too much of a stir. Not that he didn't enjoy going down to the Chamber and talking to his closest companion, enjoying his kingdom at Hogwarts. Having to sneak around the castle to get to his kingdom was a pain, with the teachers getting upset and patrolling the halls every night. Which was just as well he had nothing to fear from the Basilisk, it had been quite pleased to be free.

Now he could focus on his new project, horcruxes. He could make as many as he as willing to kill people. What was Slughorn trying to get at about not wanting to split ones soul too much? Hmm now he would have to find out if there were adverse affects in splitting ones' soul too many times. Who could he go to? The Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was an idiot, the man could barely teach defense! How could he be hiding a vast knowledge of the Dark Arts? No, not him. He was the only viable option, besides Slughorn, but Sluggy had proven to be a one-time source. His reaction to a few simple inquiries had proven he would probably go to Dumbledore, and tell him… Tell him what exactly?

Why didn't he just go straight to Dumbledore? The man knew everything. He was a beautiful genius. Not unlike himself. He would have to tread carefully. He would have to convince him that it was just curiosity rather than an interest in the Dark Arts. Dumbledore had always watched him closely. Tom had always hoped it was for another reason, than Dumbledore didn't trust him. What a powerful team they could make. Nothing would be beyond the pair of them. They were good and evil. Dumbledore was the most caring, loving person Tom had ever met. He was also the most powerful. He would do anything to be the one that Dumbledore, Albus, turned to for comfort and affection.

What would it be like to have someone that cared, loved, him? If anyone could it was Albus Dumbledore. He was good and powerful. An unlikely combination, just like they would be together: Riddle and Dumbledore, Tom and Albus, a perfect match. He had made his way up to the Great Hall, and by the looks of it just in time for dinner. He made his way to the Slytherin table and sat as close as he could to the Head table. Hoping for a good look at Dumbledore while he ate.

The Transfiguration professor made his way carefully to a seat and sat down, Tom watched transfixed over his warm beef stew. Dumbledore looked in his direction and Tom quickly looked down at his stew concentrating hard on the lumps of potato. When he looked up again Dumbledore was still watching him, their eyes met. Tom blushed and dropped his spoon. Horrified he turned his body away from the Head table and towards the rest of the Slytherin table, and proceeded to consume his stew as quickly as was possible. If only he didn't have to chew, like a serpent, he could just pour it back and get away from this embarrassment. He finished quickly and ungracefully removed himself from the bench and headed out of the Great Hall in a rush.

His face was still red, and he wasn't sure why those blue eyes had that affect on him. They were infuriating, and it was wonderful. As he rushed his way to the Head Boy's room he heard hurried footsteps behind him. He slowed and hazarded a glance behind him. It was Dumbledore.

He couldn't decide if he wanted to speed up or stop and be cordial. Well, that wasn't entirely true, he knew what he wanted to do, but he highly doubted that was what Professor Dumbledore had in mind. What he should was hurry up; get back to his room and get all of these thoughts out of his head, write it all down and make it go away. He laughed to himself, hadn't it been Dumbledore's idea that he keeps a diary in the first place? To chronicle how different this world, his world, was from the one he had grown up in so he could look back on it years later and remember how he had changed.

Strange that he had kept it up since he was a first year, everyday for almost six years now he had spent at least a few minutes before he went to sleep writing everything down pouring his soul out to the little leather bound book Dumbledore had given him on his first day at Hogwarts. He could vividly remember the smiling face and the twinkling eyes and Dumbledore had taken a knee and smiled almost shyly at him.

"Hey there Tom, I know that growing up with muggles has been hard especially without a family, but I think that you should keep a record of how things change for you while you're at Hogwarts. Maybe just write a few lines a day, just so that you can remember how you were feeling, and to see how much you have grown since you started here. Since your first day… You deserve to be happy lad. Remember that. You are special. I think you'll do quite well here. Now you better run along and catch up with the others for the sorting."

He had just looked at Dumbledore, he had never felt that way before… like someone cared and wanted him to succeed. He held the little book close to his heart. He would write in it everyday…

He had stopped walking and Dumbledore had caught up to him. He was standing there thinking about that moment so long ago, and then Dumbledore spoke.

"Are you alright Tom? You seemed flustered at dinner. You looked as though you were about to choke on your soup."

"It was beef stew." What did that matter? Did he have to correct people and always be right? Well Dumbledore had been mistaken. He was wrong, Tom was right. Did it matter?

"So it was." Dumbledore chuckled. Why did this man's laughter have to make his skin feel tight and make his stomach drop?

"I was just in a rush to get back to my room and work on a bit of…" He hit a wall in his line of thought. Lying came so easily to him, why now was it not? "Outside reading… I was came across something that peaked my… umm… curiosity when I was doing an extra credit assignment for Defense Against the Dark Arts." No entirely untrue. Perhaps he could turn this conversation to his advantage.

"Now what could possibly have you so curious that you choke down your soup… stew, and dash from the Great Hall without so much as a bit of pudding? I know you enjoy a good dessert, a man after my own heart."

There was that twinkling smile again, well his mouth was in more of a smirk but his eyes. Those blue eyes were positively sparkling with joy. Had he caused it? Had his company caused these feelings, this joy in the man he so… admired? No, adored. What a day indeed.

"Well… It was something in the restricted section and it said something about being able to split ones' soul and place part of it into an object… But it got me thinking about when or if there is a point that one cannot split a soul anymore…"

Dumbledore's expression was unreadable, but the light had dimmed slightly in his eyes. Tom wanted nothing more than to run away, but he held his ground.

"Dark magic indeed. You are speaking of horcruxes aren't you Tom? The human soul can only be broken so many times until it is unable to heal or be whole again, a partial soul leaves a man broken and inhuman. But not much research has been done in this area considering the cost of creating even a single horcrux. Your curiosity on the matter is…" Dumbledore trailed off, he was focusing on something far off, he looked sad, almost heartsick.

"Professor, are you all right?" Tom took a step towards Dumbledore they were quite close now. Close enough for Tom to notice Dumbledore's breathing, close enough for him to see the worry lining his beloved teacher's face.

"Sir I…"

"Tom…" Dumbledore was now focusing on Tom's face and he gently touched Tom's face and whispered, "You must be very careful, I wouldn't know what to do if anything happened to my brightest pupil. Don't lose yourself in this mess Tom." There was a strange silence while Tom and Dumbledore stood staring at one another. Not uncomfortable, but there were things unsaid that made it almost too hard for either to bear.

"Here have a lemon drop Tom. I won't keep you from your studies." Dumbledore smiled and glided away towards the Gryffindor Head of House's Rooms. Tom stared at the lemon drop in his hand for a few moments before putting it in his mouth and savoring the moment. He turned and made his way dreamily back to the dungeons. He whispered the password and made his way to his room to find his diary. He had much to tell it.

Tom finished his rather lengthy diary entry, and closed the little volume lovingly. He would have been about to run out of pages again. Had he not put a charm on it so that it stored the old entries and he only had to ask it to bring up older ones, using a date or subject matter. It was quite clever. Though sometimes it got a bit cheeky with him and would add comments like spelling mistakes… though there were very few. Magical objects were always a bit strange. He was just proud his enchantment was so strong, not that he expected anything less from himself, but no one else in his year would have been able to complete such a task. Tom readied himself for bed and slithered under the covers.