Chapter eleven

The prophecy

Only days into the holiday, Tom was board to tears. Lister and the rest were as obnoxious and nasty as ever. The orphans were as charming as ever. Some of the nuns seemed to think that their charges should join up to fight the Nazis as soon as they were out of nappies. And, of course, the worst part of the holidays was that he couldn't use magic.

A month into the holidays his Hogwarts list came. He had to step over some of the new orphans to open the window to allow the owl in through the window. There were more new orphans now than when he was last here. Obviously war orphans. Tom briefly wondered why they and indeed why he hadn't been evacuated. The only thing he could think of was it would be too much bother for Lister. If he had to stay in London in harms way, then so would they. It was a harsh thing to think of someone, but Tom wouldn't put it past him. He thought that there had been some sort of mistake on his book list, but then he remembered that he had applied for all but one of the available subjects. He would have to work dammed hard and probably wouldn't have any free time to himself but he would be able to fit in all his subjects. And it wasn't as if he had a social life to sacrifice. That explains why there were so many new books on his list. Now he only had to find a way to get out to Diagon alley to but the things. Orphans weren't allowed out on their own, but Tom couldn't envision asking for an escort to help him buy a load of magical supplies.

In the end he was able to fib his way out to Lister, telling him that his professor had agreed to meet him nearer the shops. If it were anyone else, Lister would probably still have refused to let them go. But he seemed okay that Tom should be wandering around alone in a city that a bomb might fall on. Tom just thanked Merlin that Lister wasn't the brightest star in the heavens. A smarter person might have asked how he had communicated with his professor. Tom never sent off (to his knowledge at least) or received any letters and at night they were blacked out, so no messages were possible then. Tom set off for the leaky cauldron as soon as he had finished what could be laughingly called breakfast.

Tapping the appropriate brick three times, Tom stepped through the arch into Diagon alley. His first stop was Gringotts. He needed money for his purchases. He took fifty galleons, leaving only about fifty left. Next year, or the year after that at the outside, he would have to think about a loan. His first stop was Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. His old robes were getting a little tight. He then went to Flourish and Blotts, where he was lucky to find all but one of his books on the second hand shelf. He picked up a few potion refills and then decided what to do with himself. He knew what he wanted to buy, but didn't know if such a thing existed or how much it cost. Also the thing was probably illegal. He went into a magical instrument set and made some discrete enquiries. He was looking for something that would hide his magic from the ministry. He wanted to practice over the holidays and maybe have a little fun with the other orphans, only if they deserved it. After so many years of humiliation, it was only fair. Once the old wizard knew what he was after he asked him to leave. Tom sighed; there was only one thing for it. He would have to try Knockturn alley. He knew there were dodgy dealings going on in there, but he also knew from ear wigging in on the older Slytherin's that one could find almost anything down there, if the price was right. However Tom wanted to be inconspicuous and a nearly thirteen year old strolling through dark magic central wasn't exactly common. Luckily Tom had thought of this. He had brought the disguise kit he had got in his first year. He ducked into an alcove and began his transformations. He changed his distinctive eye color to brown, lengthened his hair slightly and took one potion to deepen his voice slightly and another to grow. Once he had finished, he resembled a five foot eight sixteen year old. The clock was ticking

Walking with more confidence than he felt, he entered the first shop in the alley. The contrast between the two alleys was the difference between day and night. Dark, dusty books, some of which seemed to be glowing sat on shelves. Bottles of blood, jars of pickled people parts and grotesque looking silver instruments were only a few of the things this shop had to offer. Tom suddenly felt something land on his shoulder. Startled, the turned around to find himself looking into the eyes of a balding wizard with a haggard face and a mean look about him.

"This isn't a museum kid," he snarled. "Quit looking and start buying."

Tom didn't beat about the bush. He bluntly asked for what he wanted. The man wanted thirty galleons but Tom got him down to twenty-two. The guy was a no questions asked person. Tom vaguely wondered if he would sell him the thing if he had come in as he normally looked. By the time the guy found the instrument, only ten minutes remained of his hour. The magic masker was a bracelet worn on the wand arm and would block all traces of magic use from the ministry. It looked like a silver snake coiling aroung the wearers arm. Tom decided to test the merchandise first to make sure he wasn't been ripped off. He hovered a book for about a minute before he was satisfied the ministry wasn't sending any warning letters. He turned to pay the man when he paused, looking at the book that he had been levitating. The life and death of Salazar Slytherin. The book looked ancient. He looked through it. It was immediately obvious that it was more in-depth than Hogwarts: A History was. He didn't know why, but he felt like he must have it. It was like looking at a horrific accident: no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't take his eyes off it. The man saw him and came over.

"You want that too and the price goes up to forty galleons, kid," he growled.

Tom only had thirty five galleons left, and even less time. The disguise would ware off any minute and he couldn't afford to take another trip to Gringotts. He'd have to haggle.

"Thirty," he said. "And not a knut more."

"Thirty nine."

"Thirty one."

"Thirty eight."

"Thirty two."

"Thirty seven."

"Thirty three."

"Thirty six."

"Thirty five."

"Done," said the man grudgingly.

Tom paid for his purchases and made a dash for the door. The effects of the potion were wearing off. He didn't stop running until he was safe in Diagon alley and looked like he normally did. He got back to the orphanage and hid the books in his trunk. He would look through them later. He made sure the trunk was locked and headed down to lunch.

Tom put the magic masker to good use immediately. He never used it for revenge, as even though he couldn't be detected, it might attract unnecessary attention if an orphan was turned into a mongoose. He occasionally used it to defend himself, but only did things that could be explained away by the muggle mind. Things like trip jinxes if he was been chased or notice-me-not charms that hid him if he was hiding. These were one of the great accomplishments of the holidays. He had found a small sheltered area near the wall of the orphanage and had hidden it from prying eyes. This was his research area: he read his books, he practiced magic and he brewed potions unseen.

Two weeks before the end of the holidays he opened the book he bought in Knockturn alley for the first time. This was the first time he had worked up enough courage to open it after its hypnotic effect it had had on him in the shop. The book contained a detailed account of Slytherin's life, from its lonely beginning to its abrupt and mysterious end. It contained spells and potion recipes that he had found or created himself, a lot of which was downright nasty. It contained an account of the chamber of secrets, which made the unbidden thoughts in the back of Tom's mind to resurface. The account was much the same as all the rest he had read of.

Then there were Slytherin's prophecies. It seemed to be an obsession for Slytherin to predict the future and to find a way to cheat death. Tom turned to the relevant page…and his face fell. The pages were blank. No, wait…there were words forming on the page. It wasn't a prophecy, but instructions on how to access the prophecy.

Questioning soul who owns this book,

Only one may take a look.

Blood of my one true heir shall wet this page,

To reveal words not seen for an age.

What was it with these blood rites? If Tom spilt more blood, he might not have any left. Still, this was the ultimate test: if he did reveal a prophecy, then would the prophecy bind him? Tom had always believed that the future was not set in stone. What if it wasn't? After sitting there for a long time, he decided. The future was not set. Only possible futures could ever be predicted. If he knew this prophecy, it could help him avoid this fate. Or maybe embrace it. With that the cut himself with his wand as he had done so long ago. He only needed a little. Almost instantly, spidery writing revealed itself from the depths of the pages.

The pure have become tainted,

The strength of magic wanes.

Blood of the impure flows,

Polluting a wizard's veins.

Only one can restore the strength,

Only one can unite the pure.

Only one can tame the impure,

And rule them all forever more.

The task begins in the school we four built,

Unleash the beast.

Empty the school of the unworthy,

On their flesh the monster shall feast.

Fashion your name,

All shall fear.

Your name shall freeze the blood,

Of every Human ear.

Blood of mud and blood of pure,

Shall your ancestry be.

But the world shall be ruled by the pure,

And the purest of all is the.

I have a thing for prophecies. Besides, didn't Slytherin prophesise his heir returning? It's not like I used a Trelawny to make it. Hope u all like. C U soon.