Author's Note: Ah, I finally got to update...lol...midterms weren't that bad...I think I actually did alright on all of them, and just one left on monday because we had a snow day wednesday. meh. Anyway, thank you for all the reviews, you guys are great...enjoy the chapter

Summary: "...I am not your father. I will not act like your father. I do not care for you, Potter, and I will not be a parent to you..."

...Harry was more than ready to agree with that and nodded as he finished the drink he had been sipping at nervously.

It has been often said that a father and son can overcome anything, that family can overcome anything as long as there is love between them...but what if there isn't love but only hate? In a time of war most rely on their family and friends, but who can Harry rely on when he can't tell his friends that Severus Snape is his father? Especially with how curious they are of his secrets already. It isn't like he has Snape, anyway...to Snape he isn't more than just a burden after all, right? So in his time of need who can Harry turn to? Who can help him as he completes the task that was set on him?

Disclaimer: I own nothing, probably not even the plot considering how many times this plot has been done before...anywho on to the fic...

Beta: JulzPadfootMoony

Chapter Twenty Five

Horcruxes (Part 1)

January 3, 1997

Harry stepped out of the fire in the Headmaster's office, where Snape had sent him as soon as they had gotten ready to return to Hogwarts, claiming that it was the first thing Harry had to do before he did anything else. Harry had been planning on having a last minute rest before the students arrived for dinner that night. After all, his lesson with Dumbledore hadn't been scheduled until after dinner that night. That, however, didn't seem to stop them from rescheduling things without telling him. Harry knew he was being just a tad but childish; after all, Dumbledore was working hard for the Order, helping Harry, even, and he probably wouldn't have time to have a lesson with Harry after dinner.

Dumbledore was not in his office, however, when Harry came out of his fire. Harry took his time to look around, even though he was quite used to the Headmaster's office—probably better used to it than any other student at Hogwarts.

Harry walked forward and noticed a baby Fawkes, just reborn from the ashes. Phoenixes were interesting creatures. Burning out and then coming to life again, starting a second life or a third—like getting a second chance. It symbolized rebirth. Everything would have its peak, it would fall, but in time it would once again begin. Evil was such a thing even though, Harry mused, nothing was really ever truly evil—things became evil. Voldemort would not be the last Dark Lord, there would be others, and there would be others like Harry, meant to destroy them. It was a vicious circle and would continue in that manner until the hero became the villain and everything was turned on its axis. Harry sighed and reached a hand to the phoenix, stroking his head with one finger. Fawkes crooned and closed its eyes.

"Ah, you're here, Harry," Dumbledore said from behind him. "I was quite distracted by a new confection. Your father makes the most interesting candy, I must say. You should ask him to make you some. He always creates some for myself every Christmas. Alas, he never makes them ever again. Peculiar man, your father, but we aren't here to talk about him. I do believe we have something else that needs to be done, yes?"

Harry nodded, noticing that Dumbledore seemed awfully chipper. He wasn't at all like the last time he had seen him, looking worriedly through a book for Snape's sake. Maybe Snape had slipped something into whatever candy he had given him and it made him act entirely too happy. Harry decided not to wonder on it and let things be.

"So," said Dumbledore when Harry did not manage a reply, "we continue with learning about the life of one Tom Riddle. Last time we were within this room we discussed his going to Hogwarts. As you know, he attended Slytherin house. I'm not sure if he gleaned knowledge of Salazar Slytherin's ability to speak to snakes that very night or some day after, but it must have increased his self-importance.

"Most professors were quite impressed with him, you know. He was a talented and very good-looking orphan. Naturally, he gained the sympathy of the staff; it of course helped that he seemed polite, quiet, and was thirsty for knowledge."

Hearing about Voldemort in such a way made Harry almost cringe. He sounded almost like a mixture of himself and Hermione. Harry almost outwardly shuddered at the thought.

"But you know how he was. He—the Tom from the diary, I mean—he said you never trusted him. Did you not tell the other professors about how he was when you first met him?" Harry asked, shifting in his chair.

"Alas, Harry, I did not. I always felt that he could have easily felt regret for what he had done. I also will admit that it was perhaps my way of hoping that Tom would do right by his life. I did, however, decide to keep a close eye on him. He was very guarded with me from the start and did not attempt to charm me quite like he had done to my colleagues. I think he feared I would discover his true character.

"As he moved on in school he began to gather a group of friends about him—I say friends, but I'm afraid that none of them were really ever that close to him, for him to call them his friends. They were a strange motley collection. Some seemed to act as the weak seeking protection, others were the ambitious seeking some shared glory, and then the thuggish gravitating toward a leader who could show them more refined forms of cruelty—"

"They would become his first Death Eaters," Harry said with realization.

"Yes, my boy, that they would," Dumbledore said. "They were all rigidly controlled by Tom. None of them, however, ever came under suspicion for anything during their years at Hogwarts, though they were linked with less than satisfactory incidents, the worst of which was the opening of The Chamber of Secrets. But no one would believe they had much more to do with it than they appeared. As you know, Hagrid was wrongly accused of that crime. Many others were wrongly accused of others. However, none of those crimes involved murder other than this solitary one.

"You must understand, Harry, not one is willing to talk about Tom's Hogwarts years. Everything I have garnered for us has been through the convincing of many people, but I have no memories of any events of his life within this castle. Those that knew him well enough and were willing to talk all agreed, however, on the fact that Tom was obsessed with his parentage. Understandable, of course—and I see this as the reason for his change of name. Upon learning his father was a muggle, he must have adopted the new title readily. And now I do have a memory to share with you, Harry."

Harry stood.

Dumbledore levitated his pensieve towards them and settled it on the desk in front of him.

Harry went first and fell into the memory. They were once more in the Gaunt house. It took him a moment to recognize the man sitting in an armchair by the fire; once he did he realized that he was Tom Riddle's uncle. He jumped awake at a knock on his door and rose to open the door.

Harry watched as Tom Riddle stepped into the room. Morfin seemed to assume that Riddle was his father and for a moment looked confused before telling him to leave.

"Stop."

Riddle spoke Parseltongue. Morfin skidded into a table, sending moldy pots crashing to the floor. He stared at Riddle. There was a long silence while they contemplated each other. Morfin broke it.

"You speak it?"

"Yes, I speak it," said Riddle.

Harry watched him move forward, he couldn't help but feel a resentful admiration for Voldemort's complete lack of fear. His face merely expressed disgust and, perhaps, disappointment.

"Where is Marvolo?" he asked.

"Dead," said the other. "Died years ago, didn't he?"

Riddle frowned.

"Who are you then?"

"I'm Morfin, ain't I?

"Marvolo's son?"

"'Course I am, then…"

Morfin pushed the hair out of his dirty face, the better to see Riddle, and Harry saw that he wore Marvolo's black-stoned ring on his hand.

"I thought you was that muggle," whispered Morfin. "You look mighty like that muggle."

"What muggle?" said Riddle sharply.

"That muggle that my sister took a fancy to, that muggle that lives in the big house over the way," said Morfin.

Harry watched Morfin tell Voldemort about his parents—Voldemort didn't even seem to mind the names Morfin called his mother or father, in fact he seemed to almost agree with his uncle. And then it went dark.

Dumbledore took Harry's elbow and pulled him back to the present.

"Was that all? Why did it go black?"

"That is all that Morfin could remember, I'm afraid. When he awoke next his ring was gone and a maid in the village of Little Hangleton was running along the High Street, screaming that there were three bodies lying in the drawing room of the big house: Tom Riddle Senior and his mother and father."

"Voldemort killed them, then?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Dumbledore said. "And yet, Morfin admitted to his crimes when questioned by Aurors that same day. He lived out the remainder of his life in Azkaban. I believe it is still quite talked about in Little Hangleton—the murder of three people who were in very good health with no signs of any maladies except that they were dead."

Harry thought it over. "Then this is Morfin's real memory. But didn't the Aurors realize once they saw this?"

"But, there you are my dear boy, they did not see this. Even though many Aurors are skilled at Legilimency, they would not have bothered after a full confession from the perpetrator. It just would not have been done. This memory I took from him through skilled Legilimency that not only required many hours, but many tiring hours."

"Didn't the Ministry detect the magic that Tom used on Morfin, though?" Harry asked, an idea coming into his mind. "I mean, he was underage. He didn't look much older than when he was in the dairy."

"Ah, but the ministry could not have traced his magic—the Ministry can very well detect magic, but not who has done the magic. Take what happened to yourself before your second year; Dobby was the one using magic, yet you were the one blamed."

It suddenly dawned on Harry. "Then, if you're inside the house of an adult witch or wizard, you can do magic. It wouldn't really matter, would it? The Ministry wouldn't be able to tell. That is completely unfair in my opinion."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Many might feel so, but the Ministry trusts the parents to not allow their children to break such rules."

And Harry knew it was true. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley would never have allowed any of their children to do magic at home before they turned seventeen, but then on the other hand Lucius Malfoy would have allowed Draco to use his magic whenever he wanted. Harry sighed.

"Harry, however much I would enjoy continuing this conversation. I have one more memory to share with you and we best be getting underway. I daresay dinner will be starting in only an hour."

Harry nodded, not having thought about time, and how much of it they had already used up.

"It was harder to get anything on Voldemort after he left Hogwarts. As hard as it was to get anything out of him when he attended here, it was a much harder goal to achieve to gather any information on Riddle. After a failed attempt at acquiring a teaching position here as soon as he left school, Riddle began to work at Borgin and Burkes."

"He wanted to be a Professor here?" Harry asked.

"Yes. I rather like to think that he did not want to leave the one place that he felt most at home, and more to that as a Professor, Riddle would have the power to mold young minds in whatever form that he wanted." Dumbledore chose that moment to pick a lemon drop, but he did not pop it into his mouth and instead continued: "I was not Headmaster when he first petitioned for the job, but I was very weary of him remaining at Hogwarts and I advised Professor Dippet t hat Tom was too young and would need a few more years out in the world before this job could become available.

"I think Tom knew it was my interference that lost him the job, but he nevertheless left to work for the store. Many of his former teachers felt it was a waste for such a brilliant boy like him to do such a job, but he was much more than just an assistant. His charm, after all, was a great asset to Borgin and Burke. And now we must go into the pensieve once more to the memory of Hokey, a house elf owned by Hepzibah Smith. After you, Harry."

They went into the pensieve once more. This time it was to the sitting room of an immensely fat old lady, who was wearing an elaborate wig and a brilliant set of pink robes. She was talking—or rather ordering a house elf around, telling her what she needed. They were obviously awaiting a guest.

Harry looked around and waited, and then the doorbell rang and the house elf went to bring in their guest. It came back a few seconds later with Tom. He looked more handsome than ever. Hepzibah seemed more than charmed by Tom and squealed when he handed her the flowers that he had seemingly brought her.

Harry watched attentively as they had tea and cakes. It seemed like a normal afternoon. Nothing should have gone wrong with any of it. Had Harry not known who he was watching interact with the old lady, the memory would have seemed to be of a nice young man who liked entertaining an old woman that had a fancy for him.

After a few minutes they got down to business.

"Well, what's your excuse for visiting this time?" She asked, batting her eyelashes.

After a quick explanation, Hepzibah exclaimed, "Oh, Mr. Burke, phooey!" followed by, "I've something to show you that I've never shown Mr. Burke! Can you keep a secret, Tom? Will you promise you won't tell Mr. Burke I've got it?"

She said something more about it, garnering Tom a promise to keep the item secret.

The elf handed her two boxes which she set down on her lap. "I think you'll like this, Tom…Oh, if my family knew I was showing you…They can't wait to get their hands on this!"

She opened the first box. Harry edged forward to get a better view and saw what looked like a small golden cup with two finely wrought handles.

She gave Voldemort permission to pick the cup up and examine it closely. Harry thought he saw a red gleam in his eyes as he looked at it, and then murmured. "A badger," he examined the engraving upon the cup closer. "Then this was…?"

"Helga Hufflepuff's, as you very well know, you clever boy!" said Hepzibah, "Didn't I tell you I was distantly descended?"

When she took it back, intent on putting it back in its box, she missed the shadow that crossed Voldemort's face, but Harry saw it before Voldemort threw on a mask to hide his true feelings.

After the elf took the cup away, Hepzibah's attention went to the much smaller, flatter box that remained.

"I think you'll like this even better, Tom," she whispered. "Lean in a little, dear boy, so you can see….Of course, Burke knows I've got this one, I bought it from him, and I daresay he'd love to get it back when I'm gone…."

She slid back the fine filigree clasp and flipped open the box. There upon the smooth crimson velvet lay a heavy golden locket.

Voldemort reached out his hand, without invitation this time, and held it up to the light, staring at it.

"Slytherin's mark," he said quietly, as the light played upon an ornate serpentine S.

She reached out to take the locket back after a few seconds. For a moment, Harry thought Voldemort was not going to let go of it, but then it had slid through his fingers and was back in its red velvet cushion. There was no mistaking the flash of red in his eyes this time as he looked at the now closed box.

There was a moment during which Hepzibah looked concerned at Tom, until he shook her off, and then Harry felt Dumbledore's hand on his elbow again, and once more they left the pensieve.

"She died two days after that little scene," said Dumbledore once they had settled back down into their chairs. "Hokey was convicted for poisoning her mistress by the Ministry. She admitted to putting something that was not sugar in her mistress' cocoa."

Harry was outraged but even in his mind he could fit in all the details. Hokey was a house elf and like Morfin, Voldemort had messed with her mind and the ministry had accepted that the house elf was old and that she was a suspect simply for being a house elf. Voldemort knew just how to not get in trouble.

"By the time Hokey had been convicted, Hepzibah's family realized that Hepzibah's greatest possessions were missing, but by the time this was fully proven, the assistant from Borgin and Burkes was gone. Not even his superiors knew where he had gone to. And now, there are two more memories left, Harry.

"Now," said Dumbledore, "if you don't mind, Harry, I want to pause once more to draw your attention to certain points of our story. Voldemort had committed another murder; whether it was his first since he killed the Riddles, I do not know, but I think it was. This time, as you will have seen, he killed not for revenge, but for gain. He wanted the two fabulous trophies that poor besotted, old woman showed him. Just as he had once robbed the other children at his orphanage, just as he had stolen his Uncle Morfin's ring, so he ran off now with Hepzibah's cup and locket."

"But," said Harry frowning, "it seems mad….Risking everything, throwing away his job, just for those…"

"Mad to you perhaps, Harry, but to him they meant a lot. You will understand in due course exactly what they meant to him, Harry. The locket he must have seen as rightfully his."

"Yes," Harry agreed. "The locket maybe, but the cup?"

"It belonged to another of Hogwarts' founders," Dumbledore told him. "I think he felt a great pull toward the school and that he could not resist an object so steeped in Hogwarts history. There were other reasons, I think….I hope to be able to demonstrate them to you in due course.

"And now for the next recollection. Ten years separates Hokey's and this one. Ten years during which we can only guess at what Lord Voldemort was doing…."

"Whose memory is it?" Harry thought to ask, as he once more got to his feet.

"Mine," Dumbledore said, and as before motioned for Harry to go first.

This memory was much shorter than the others, and they got through it quickly. They were once more in Dumbledore's office in the memory, though this time a younger Dumbledore sat behind the desk, and upon the knock on his door, he called, "Enter."

Harry could not help the gasp that escaped him when he saw who entered. It was unmistakably Tom Riddle, but he was no longer the handsome young man that he had seen in the last memory. His features were not quite what they would be when he emerged from the cauldron two years previous, but they were closer to that than the handsome beloved student. He was not yet snakelike, and his eyes were not scarlet, and the face was not masklike, but he was so close to being that that Harry could not even think of him as the same man in the last memory he had viewed.

"Good evening, Tom," Dumbledore said easily. "Won't you sit down?"

"Thank you," Voldemort said, and he took the seat to which Dumbledore gestured—the very seat, by the looks of it, that Harry had just vacated in the present. "I heard you had become Headmaster," he said, and his voice was slightly higher and colder than it had been. "A worthy choice."

They continued for a few minutes with pleasantries. Dumbledore offered Tom a drink which Tom took, and then after a few minutes, Dumbledore asked, "So, Tom…to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Voldemort didn't answer at once and instead sipped at his drink. "They do not call me 'Tom' anymore," he said. "These days, I am known as—"

"I know what you are known as," said Dumbledore, smiling pleasantly. "But to me, I'm afraid you will always be Tom Riddle. It is one of the irritating things about old teachers. I am afraid that they never quite forget their charges' youthful beginnings."

The atmosphere in the room changed slightly, even Harry could feel the change. Dumbledore's refusal to use Tom's new name was a refusal to allow Voldemort to dictate the terms of the meeting, and Harry could tell that Voldemort took it as such.

Voldemort changed the subject, then, talking about Dumbledore and his reasons for not leaving the school. Harry had wondered that himself back in his first year after Hagrid had spoken of Dumbledore not wanting to become Minister of Magic, even though enough offers had been there, and then the topic changed again.

"I have returned," Tom said, "later, perhaps, than Professor Dippet expected…but I have returned, nevertheless, to request again what he once told me I was too young to have. I have come to you to ask you permit me to return to this castle, to teach. I think you must know that I have seen and done much since I left this place. I could show and tell your students things they can gain from no other wizard."

Harry almost snorted. Wasn't that right; no one could learn how to use the Dark Arts better than if they had been instructed by Tom Riddle himself.

Harry watched Dumbledore and Tom interact for a while longer about what Tom had been doing for the past few years, and the rumors of his Death Eaters. Dumbledore was shoving information at Tom about everything that Voldemort must have been sure Dumbledore didn't know. And then they got to the mettle of things.

"Let us speak openly," Dumbledore said. "Why have you come here tonight, surrounded by henchmen, to request a job we both know you do not want?"

Voldemort looked coldly surprised. "A job I do not want? On the contrary, Dumbledore, I want it very much."

"Oh, you want to come back to Hogwarts, but you do not want to teach any more than you wanted to when you were eighteen. What is it you're after, Tom? Why not try an open request for once?"

Voldemort sneered. "If you do not want to give me a job—"

"Of course I don't," said Dumbledore. "And I don't think for a moment you expected me to. Nevertheless, you came here, you asked, you must have had a purpose."

Voldemort stood up. He looked less like Tom Riddle than ever, his features thick with rage. "This is your final word?"

"It is," said Dumbledore, also standing.

"Then we have nothing to say to each other."

"No, nothing," said Dumbledore, and a great sadness filled his face. "The time is long gone when I could frighten you with a burning wardrobe and force you to make repayment for your crimes. But I wish I could, Tom….I wish I could…."

Voldemort's hand twisted toward his pocket and his wand, Harry was sure that he was going to do something, but then the moment had passed, Voldemort turned away, and then the door was closing behind him and he was gone.

Dumbledore's hand closed over Harry's arm again and they were once more in his office, though this time in the present.

"Why?" Harry asked at once. "Why did he come back? Did you ever find out?"

"I have ideas," said Dumbledore, "but no more than that."

"What ideas, sir?"

"I shall tell you, Harry, when we have viewed the last memory."

Harry nodded. "He came for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post again, didn't he?"

"Yes," Dumbledore said. "The proof of that is that we have not been able to keep a Professor for that subject for more than a year since I refused the post to Lord Voldemort."

Dumbledore looked at his watch. "I was sure we could fit it all in, but no matter. Dinner is, I believe, starting in five minutes."

Had it been an hour already? But Harry wanted to know what Dumbledore's ideas were. He was burning with curiosity.

"I'm afraid we will have to continue this after dinner," Dumbledore continued. "It is why I asked you here earlier, Harry. I feared we would be up all night doing this and with classes tomorrow."

Harry nodded. "Alright, then," Harry said. "Dinner."

Harry turned to walk to the door.

"I rather think you should get your glasses before you leave, Harry, for that would open things into further discussion."

"Right," Harry said. "Can I use your floo, sir?"

"Certainly."

Harry nodded and grabbed a fistful of floo. He threw it in the fire and called out, "Professor Snape's rooms!"

Author's Note: Hope you guys all enjoyed this chapter. I know it was basically the same as HBP, but I felt as if this part and of course next chapter had to actually be in the story. I did change a few things...and omitted others...anyway hope you like it. By the way I just finished writing the first chapter for the sequel a couple of days ago and it's looking good. lol. Questions are always welcome. Please review.

I think I'll be updating wednesday

-Erika