According to His Own Nature

Part 5 of 5: The Summer after Riddle's Seventh Year

The summer that followed Tom's graduation from Hogwarts was marked by both sorrow and exultant joy on Filius' part. Tom had performed well academically and as a duelist, and had more than fulfilled the expectations which Filius had first held for him years ago, but he intended to travel abroad and it was not clear when the two of them might meet again. It was even possible, given his plans, that Tom might fall into trouble that he would be unable to extricate himself from.

"Germany first, then Poland, then down to the Balkans," Tom said as he explained his plans in detail. He had remained with Filius for another summer, to continue his apprenticeship a little longer, but it had come time for him to depart at last. "Now that the war is over and even the muggles are just mopping up, it seems like a good time for traveling. Europe will not be in such disarray again for decades, if ever."

The purpose behind his itinerary was clearer than crystal. "You are searching for the Deathstick," Filius said. Tom had told him last year of a rumor that the wandmaker Mykew Gregorovitch had once claimed ownership of the Deathstick but whereas Filius had forgotten the conversation till now, it appeared that Tom had not.

Indeed, he had done more than just remember the tale. "I am quite convinced that Gregorovitch did have the Deathstick at one point in time," Tom said. "I spent most of my time between Halloween and Christmas last year poring over everything that I could find on Gregorovitch. It cost me a fair amount, between purchasing whatever books I couldn't find at Hogwarts, owling Gregorovitch's clientele, and so forth. I don't know whether there was a duel that I couldn't find out about, or he was the victim of theft, but he had the wand at one point."

"You're sure of that?"

Tom nodded. "Sure enough that I'm willing to spend the foreseeable future pursuing this lead, at least. Regardless of how many hands it passed through in the meantime, the sort of wizard who would be interested in wielding the Deathstick would likely have participated in Grindelwald's War, on one side or the other. I could be wrong about that, and it might have gone as far afield as Vietnam or Peru and never returned to Europe, but if I start thinking like that then I won't look anywhere at all."

It was sound thinking, and if one was going to pursue the Deathstick at all then Tom's plan was definitely reasonable. There was one glaring problem, or at least point of worry, which Filius saw, however. "Much of your planned route will be taking you behind the Iron Curtain," he said. "The Russians may resent your presence and consider you as an agitator. You may not be allowed entry at all."

"Let them resent me," Tom replied. "I do not fear muggle Communists, nor the Committee for Magical Security."

Filius had come to expect that kind confidence from Tom, but he did not appreciate the forcible reminder that the boy was, after everything, a Gryffindor. "Very well. I expect that you will be searching for more than the Deathstick when you head to the Balkans," he said. That region was once home to an empire of dark wizards, centuries ago, and the mountains were littered with ancient sites and the remains of libraries which would be of interest to a scholarly duelist such as Tom had proven to be. "Where shall you go after that?"

The question seemed to stump Tom, at least for a moment. "Perhaps further east, deep into the Russian interior. There is always the Winter Order, if, that is, one believes in such fairy tales. Or I might spend a season in Hispanapule, then turn south, make entreaties to the elders of Uagadou, and learn the finer points of wandless casting from those who know nothing else."

"You will have to be reserved among such people, and keep a tight rein on your temper," Filius advised him. "They will consider you a child until you are forty years old, which will make them unlikely to take you seriously. You may be better off waiting until the end of your travels, wherever else they bring you, so that you can prove your earnestness."

"East, then, through St. Petersburg, to Siberia, down through Japan, and from there to the New World, though in truth I can't predict my journey so far in advance. I will go wherever the trail leads me, and detour when and where I must in order to pay my expenses. You can expect to hear well in advance whenever I plan to make myself known at a tournament, should you wish to attend-or compete and make me truly earn my winnings."

Filius worried that the Russians might give Tom trouble when he went into the Soviets' domain, but there was one thing alone which truly gave Filius pause. "How long do you expect it will take for you to find the Deathstick?"

"Years," Tom said, and then "Decades. But I don't intend to find it all in one go," he continued, and Filius' worries of madness and obsession were abated, at least in part. "It's probably been decades since Gregorovitch lost it, though, and I want to find out what I can before the political climate settles into something else. I won't have another opportunity like this for a long time."

"Reasonable. You will be sure to write, I hope," said Filius.

"At least once a month, and more often if I have anything interesting to report. You will have to wait until my return to hear for news that pertains to my search, though. I wouldn't want a letter like that to be intercepted, especially while I'm anywhere close to Russia."

"Very good, Tom. Only, don't just be writing to me. I know how you like to be on your own, but don't leave your, ah, lady acquaintance out in the dark, either."

"Who?" Tom asked, and Filius was not sure whether he was genuinely puzzled or just putting on a good show.

"Oh, you know, Horiho, Horiyo, it was something like that."

Tom laughed, and the sound of it made Filius realize how rarely he had ever heard Tom express his more positive emotions so openly. "I believe that you mean Horila. She's still at Hogwarts, I'm afraid, and correspondence between us may be difficult to achieve. Even while I was there, we couldn't be seen in public, you know?"

"She's a Slytherin, then," Filius said, realization blooming in him like a warm flower.

"Quite so," Tom said, and he laughed again. "At any rate, there's nothing of a romantic nature going on between us. It's strictly platonic."

"Of course," said Filius, not believing a single word of it. Filius hadn't been born yesterday, and he still remembered how fondly Tom had spoken of her. "And do you have plans for your return, if you do not intend to seek out the Deathstick till the end of your days?"

"Oh, this and that," Tom said, and his mouth parted in a toothy grin. "Perhaps shake things up a little," he added. "Things could do with a bit of shaking up, I wager."

"That they could," Filius said. "That they could, indeed." He paused and, not quite able to reach the boy's shoulder, settled for laying a hand on his elbow. "I am not the sort of teacher who will hand you a laundry list. My expectations of you are not many in number. I ask only this of you: that your accomplishments, whatever they may be in detail, be magnificent. You may be a champion duelist, get elected Minister for Magic, or even find the Deathly Hallows. I do not care, so long as you do great things."

Tom nodded solemnly, shook Filius' other hand, and gave a deep bow. "Your teachings, and your friendship, have been indispensable to me. Thank you, Master Filius, for all your guidance and all that you have done for me," he said, and he disapparated on the spot.

It was the last time that Tom Riddle would call anyone "Master" again.

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