This chapter is fairly self explanatory. A lot of the description is taken from the chapter Lord Voldemort's request in Half Blood Prince.
Despite his abilities, Voldemort had graduated from Hogwarts like any other student and had been faced with life in the real world. However, unlike his classmates, his goals went far above a simple job or starting a family, but were focused on creating the proper world, gaining the power he deserved and reaching for true immortality.
No job would truly achieve that, but some could be of assistance. His preference was to teach at Hogwarts, though, when that was denied to him, work at Borgin and Burkes was his next option.
Life at the shop was not what Voldemort would have expected and he rarely saw the benefits from a petty position: There were flashes of powerful antique objects and influential customers, though often it seemed to pass by in a flurry of useless events and the frustrating orders he was forced to follow.
It was only in June 1947 that he had the opportunity he desired when he was told by Borgin to visit a woman by the name of Hepzibah Smith. It was another task to instruct another woman to part with an expensive possession that Borgin wanted. Still, he would not complain. He had taken this job for a reason; to find powerful objects for his horcruxes and he would not stop until he found what he sought.
Apparating to the grounds of the correct property, he reached the impressive manor house and pressed the doorbell. It was soon answered by the smallest house elf he had ever seen who did not even reach his knees. Undoubtedly old, its papery skin was draped over it like a toga.
"I am here to see Ms Hepzibah Smith," he declared with his usual self importance.
"Of course, Sir. Mistress has been waiting for you. Please follow Hokey." With a bow, the elf set off down one of the corridors and Voldemort followed without fuss as his eyes swept over the area. He immediately understood why Borgin had wanted him to see Smith. The area was full to bursting with antique portraits, statues, vases and other objects to the extent that there was barely enough room to move.
Pausing at a doorway that seemed particularly cluttered with objects, he was led into the room by the house elf. He was momentarily stunned (quite a feat indeed) as his eyes ran over the objects; cabinets of lacquered boxes, cases of gold leafed and valuable books and shelves of orbs and flowering untrimmed pot plants.
Mesmerised by the thought of what else could be in the room, it took him a moment to pull himself together and face the woman. She was old and fat. Dressed in ludicrous pink robes that flowed over her like frosting, she wore a ridiculous ginger wig that was more like a tower with golden trinkets attached as she lay hunched in her chair as if she had not moved for days.
With years of practice, he did not reveal his disgust. Standing at the start of the clutter in a crisp set of black suit robes, he bowed his handsome head and allowed a smile to grace his aristocratic features.
"I must apologise, Ms Smith, I was momentarily mesmerised by your fine collection," he said softly and politely as he reclined his head to her. "Mr Borgin asked me to visit you to inquire about the set of antique emerald necklaces he discussed with you via owl."
If he was struck dumb by the objects, than she was doubly so by his face. Watching, Voldemort could see how she could not tear her watery eyes from his face and he could see how her cheeks, which were already coated by makeup, flushed pink. It would make things substantially easier.
"Oh, ye- yes of course," she said with a little bit of a stutter and a slightly breathless voice. "Please do come in."
"Thank you," he said quietly as he drew further into the room. The objects were all around and, if he was not so careful and so full of grace, he suspected he would have knocked over some of the shelves. "My name is Tom Riddle. It is quite an honour to meet your acquaintance, Ms Smith."
Reaching her side, he paused, his eyes trailing over her form. She was quite hideous, but he was pulled in by the room and possibilities. His job only meant so much. It was only a means to an end and this might finally be the end.
Smith let a small giggle which would have been unappealing in a woman his age let alone hers. "Tom," she said as if testing the word. "May I call you Tom?"
Despite the loathing of the name, he did not miss a trick as a series of intricate plans formed in his mind. "For a woman as lovely as you? Anything."
Bowing down before her, his long fingers hand slid over her portly and wrinkled hand. Bringing down his lips, he pressed them softly against her skin in a small kiss before he straightened up. The entire time he dark eyes never left her face.
She was hooked.
That day he acquired Borgin the emerald necklace he wanted and even more in the subsequent visits, but it was only when she revealed a golden cup and a golden locket with a serpentine S that the true prize was revealed. After some poison in her tea and some charms on the useless elf, he had what he desired.
It was all worth it.
