Harry's lesson is strongly based from 'Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince' which is not mine.

Chapter 20

Memories Forgotten

It was Monday morning before Ron was released from Madam Pomfrey's protective grasp, completely recovered from the severe concussion he received from the Bludger striking his head. All in all, Ron was extremely lucky. If the Bludger had struck a fraction of an inch to the left, Ron would probably be in a coma right now. With that in mind, no one protested to Madam Pomfrey's order of bed rest, much to Ron's annoyance. It was extremely hard make a case when nobody would back you up.

Entering the Great Hall, Harry, Ron and Hermione took their normal spot at the Gryffindor table. It was still early, giving Ron plenty of time to eat three helpings of food like it was his last meal. Harry and Hermione bit back laughs as they ate their own breakfast. Some things would never change and Ron's table etiquette was one of those things. It was actually refreshing, unless you were actually watching him.

"Hello Harry, Hermione, Ron," said the dreamy voice of Luna Lovegood. Harry and Hermione nodded to her. Ron was still too focused on his breakfast to notice. Luna pulled a grubby scroll of parchment and handed it over to Harry "I was told to give you this."

Harry immediately recognized that this was notice of his next lesson with Professor Dumbledore and quickly pocketed the roll of parchment. "Thanks Luna," he said sincerely. "Will you be giving the commentary for the next match?"

Luna smiled vaguely at him. "Oh, I don't think so," she said. "Everyone says I was dreadful. It's not their fault, though. They were all confunded by Gulping Plimpies." Luna reached into her bag and pulled out what appeared to be a large green onion. "That is why I've been telling people they need one of these but they won't listen."

Harry and Hermione eyed the strange object skeptically. "What is it?" asked Hermione.

"It's a Gurdyroot," Luna said as she handed it over to Hermione. "You can take this one. I've got a few of them in my trunk."

Hermione carefully set the Gurdyroot down on the table and discretely pushed it towards Ron. "Thanks Luna," she said as politely as she could. Luna smiled and walked back to the Ravenclaw table. The moment Luna's back was turned Hermione quickly pulled out her wand and banished the Gurdyroot. "Gulping Plimpies," she said with a snort. "There is no such thing."

Harry smiled as he took a sip from his goblet. That was another thing that would never change. Hermione would always rely on logic to explain everything. "Hermione, there's an entire world out there that claims magic doesn't exist," Harry said nonchalantly. "What does that say about us?"

"That's completely different, Harry," Hermione said matter-of-factly.

"Is it?" Harry countered curiously. "If someone had told you they were a witch or wizard before you received your Hogwarts letter, would you have believed them?" Hermione was silent. "I'm not saying Gulping Plimpies do exist but if Luna believes in them who are we to question her?"

Ron and Hermione stared at Harry in a stunned silence before Ron stuffed a piece of bacon in his mouth. "Y'know, he has a poin' 'Mione," he said, spitting out bits of bacon in the process.

"Honestly Ron!" Hermione scolded in disgust as she pushed her plate away. "Some of us are trying to eat!"

"Good luck with that," Ginny said sarcastically as she sat down next to Harry. "Mum's been trying to improve his manners for years." She instantly started putting food on her plate with a little more force that what was necessary. "Personally, I think it's a 'male thing'. None of them bother to think before they do anything."

Every male sitting nearby stopped what they were doing and stare at Ginny. From the waves of anger and frustration rolling off her, Harry figured she really wasn't paying attention to who was around her. "It seems that it's not only a 'male thing'," Harry commented dryly. "Perhaps it's a human trait."

Hermione shot Harry a glare before softening her gaze at Ginny. "What happened with Dean?" she asked compassionately.

"Nothing," Ginny said shortly as she stabbed her bacon with her fork. "Everything's just perfect! Dean's just a jealous prat!" Harry and Hermione shared a concerned look, neither wanting to interrupt Ginny's rant. "Just because I was talking about how grateful I was that Harry saved Ron, Dean thinks that I want him to be more like Harry. He claimed I'm trying to change him into someone else because I can't have the real thing."

"Where is he?" Ron growled as he looked around. "Stupid git. When I'm finished with him—"

"—Ron, no!" Hermione scolded. "This is between Ginny and Dean. Getting involved is only going to complicate everything for them." She turned to Harry and gave him an urgent look. "Don't you agree, Harry?"

Harry cast Hermione a bewildered look. "What are you talking about?" he asked seriously. "I'm with Ron on this. Unless Ginny wants to handle it on her own, I fully support jinxing Dean until he's unrecognizable." Harry looked directly at Ginny who was trying to hide a smile. "So what to you say, Ginny? Care for your brothers to teach Dean a lesson?"

Ginny's smile faded slightly at the mention of 'brothers' but she quickly recovered. "I appreciate the thought, Harry," she said with a soft smile. "I really do but I can handle Dean. If he still acts like a prat after I'm through with him then I give the two of you full access to do whatever you want." Without another word, Ginny stood, grabbed a muffin and left. She appeared to be in a slightly better mood but there was just something in the way she carried herself proving that she was still upset.

Dean kept a fair distance from Harry and Ron throughout the day. In the few moments that he had managed to get close enough to sense Dean's emotions; Harry had been shocked at the waves of regret and despair. He had been expecting anger and jealousy. He had been expecting resentment. This wasn't a matter of a jealous boyfriend. This was a reluctant acceptance of the reality of the situation. Dean wasn't punishing Ginny because of her close relationship with Harry. He was letting her go because he believed she would be happier with someone else.

Unfortunately, Harry wasn't able to speak to Dean about his hypothesis due to his lesson with Professor Dumbledore at eight o'clock. He had barely managed to complete his Herbology essay before running up to his dorm room, grabbing the bottle containing Slughorn's memory from his trunk and hurrying off to Dumbledore's office. Harry knew the way along with all of the shortcuts in order to give the gargoyle the password, hurry up the stairs and knock just as the clock inside Dumbledore's office chimed eight.

"Enter," Professor Dumbledore called out.

Harry pushed open the door and came face to face with a suspicious Professor Trelawney. Waves of resentment and fear poured off her so strongly that Harry needed to step back. He didn't know why Professor Trelawney was feeling what she was nor did he care. He just wanted it to stop.

"I see," Professor Trelawney said dramatically as she pointed at Harry, staring at him through her magnifying spectacles. "So, you call upon students to throw me out of your office, Dumbledore!"

Dumbledore let out a weary sigh. "My dear Sybill," he said as he rose to his feet. "I certainly am not throwing you out of my office but Harry does have an appointment with me. You have given me your opinions and I will take them under advisement. Now, would you please allow Harry to enter?"

Professor Trelawney moved out of the way and watched through narrowed eyes as Harry walked past her towards Dumbledore's desk. "Very well," she said at last. I see that my pleas shall go unanswered. I shall warn you, if you continue to employ the usurping nag, I shall find a school where my talents will be more of use." Tossing the end of one of her shawls over her shoulder, Trelawney let the office, slamming the door behind her.

Professor Dumbledore shook his head slowly as he sat back down. "Please take a seat, Harry," he said tiredly. "I must say I am grateful you arrived on time. I fear if I were required to listen any more I would have to do something I most likely should regret."

Sitting down in his usual seat in front of Dumbledore's desk, it took Harry a moment to figure out Professor Dumbledore had made a joke. That had certainly been the last thing he had been expecting with as tried as Professor Dumbledore appeared to be. "She's fearful of losing her job, sir," Harry said slowly.

Dumbledore nodded, a ghost of a smile appearing on his face. "Yes, Sybill is a little resentful for some changes in the staff," he said. "She currently shares the Divination position with Firenze. After you found Firenze in the forest last year, it was decided that it was too dangerous for him to return. He has been in the castle ever since. Sybill Trelawney resents his presence and has been threatening to leave but both of us know that just is not a possibility. She is completely unaware of the danger she would be in outside the castle since she has no memory of the prophecy she made concerning you and Voldemort."

A prophecy that has caused me nothing but pain.

Professor Dumbledore let out a long breath. "Onto the reason you are here," he said with a smile. "Have you managed to complete the task I assigned you?"

"Yes sir," Harry said as he pulled the glass bottle contained the swirling silver memory out of his pocket and placed it next to the two other bottles full of swirling silver by Dumbledore's Pensieve. "At least Professor Slughorn claimed that it was the memory you asked about."

Dumbledore smiled proudly. "Then we shall find out when the time arrives," he said. "I think we will view that memory last for it will put all of the pieces together. I am sure you remember where we left off, Harry. Tom had just killed his father and grandparents, framing his Uncle for the crime. We will now be diving into greater guesswork. These two memories take place after Tom left Hogwarts. Upon graduation, everyone expected great things from Tom Riddle. He had been a Prefect, Head Boy and winner of the Award for Special Services to the School. Many believed that he would join the Ministry of Magic. Voldemort, however, refused and the next thing the staff knew, the bright young boy was working at Borgin and Burkes."

Now that was a surprise although it actually made sense if you thought about it. Harry knew first hand what types of objects were sold at Borgin and Burkes. How could he forget his first attempt with floo powder when he was twelve? The store had contained many cursed and dark items that no one in their right mind should own. Perhaps that was what attracted Voldemort.

"I see you are not surprised by the revelation," Professor Dumbledore said with a smile. "Voldemort was attracted to the small shop for a particular reason, a reason that will become clear after we view the memory of Hokey, the house-elf. It was not Voldemort's first choice of employment but it was the first he was accepted to. Voldemort had originally asked Professor Dippet to remain at Hogwarts as a teacher."

Now that surprised Harry. He really couldn't see Tom Riddle as a man with the patience required for teaching. Of course the same could be said for Professor Snape but he was here teaching students and frightening them day after day. "Why would he want to stay here?" asked Harry.

"I believe there were several reasons although most of them are speculation," Dumbledore said casually. "I believe Voldemort felt more attached to this school than he has ever been to anyone or anything else. Hogwarts was the first and only place he felt at home and being the heir of Slytherin only influenced that. Hogwarts is also a stronghold of ancient magic, which you are well aware of. Voldemort never had the actual connection you have to Hogwarts but he still believed there were plenty of secrets and stories he had yet to discover. There is also the fact that as a teacher he would have a large amount of power and influence over the young students here. I believe Voldemort saw the position as a useful recruiting ground in order to build himself an army."

Harry shuddered at the thought. With as charming as Tom Riddle could be, there was no doubt that the arm could have been formed in just a few years. His experience with Tom Riddle's diary was all the proof he needed to know how dangerous such an appointment could be. "What position did he want, sir?" asked Harry, mentally dreading the answer.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts," Professor Dumbledore said plainly. "The current teacher, Galatea Merrythought, had been at Hogwarts for nearly fifty years and was retiring. Voldemort discovered this and decided to use the opportunity to his advantage. Professor Dippet, however, did not agree. He believed that eighteen was too young so Voldemort went off to Borgin and Burkes. During his employment, Voldemort was given particular jobs that relied on his cleverness and persuasion to obtain objects with unusual and powerful properties."

Dumbledore rose to his feet, waked around his desk and picked up one of the bottles. "And now I believe it is time to hear from Hokey the house-elf, who worked for Hepzibah Smith, a very old and very rich witch," he said as he uncorked the bottle with his wand and poured the contents into the Pensieve. "After you, Harry."

Harry obediently got to his feet and reached into the swirling silver contents. He immediately tumbled through darkness until he landed in a sitting room in front of an extremely fat old lady who was wearing a sophisticated ginger wig that seemed to clash with the extremely bright pink set of robes she wore. Dumbledore arrived at his side a second later but Harry's gaze remained on the woman. She was looking at herself in a small jeweled mirror, dabbing a bit of rouge on her already red cheeks with a large powder puff. Looking down, Harry noticed the tiniest house-elf he had ever seen was lacing tight satin slippers onto the woman's feet. That can't be comfortable.

"Hurry up, Hokey," Hepzibah said with a hint of urgency in her voice. "He said he'd come at four, it's only a couple of minutes to and he's never been late yet!"

Harry watched curiously as Hepzibah finished preparing herself just as the doorbell rang. The room was completely full of trinkets, boxes and books. There were cabinets against the walls that seemed to be overflowing with gold-embossed books, shelves of orbs and celestial globes. It was a wonder how anyone could maneuver in such a room, especially someone of Hepzibah's size.

Hokey left to answer the door and returned a few minutes later with a man that could only be Tom Riddle. He was dressed in a black suit with hair slightly longer from what Harry remembered. His face was…different. It was the only way to describe it. Tom looked like he had lost weight recently; giving his cheeks a hollowed look. Riddle made his way through the cramped room with ease before bowing low, taking Hepzibah's hand and kissing it.

Harry watched as Riddle charmed Hepzibah Smith, saying exactly the right thing at exactly the right time. There was a comfortable air around them that was usually reserved for close friends. It was difficult to determine if Riddle had something to do with it or if Hepzibah was just that trusting of people. Maybe it's just Riddle she trusts. Perhaps Riddle had spent many visits working on gaining Hepzibah's trust because it certainly paid off.

Hepzibah Smith decided that this visit was the chance to show Voldemort two of her most priceless treasures. At first, Harry didn't think anything on the small golden cup that Hepzibah pulled out of the protected box. It wasn't until Riddle took a better look at it and pointed out the presence of a badger on the cup. The dark red gleam in his eyes was unmistakable. He looked like Christmas had come early for him. Harry instantly understood. The cup was Helga Hufflepuff's. It had belonged to one of the founders of Hogwarts just like the ring Riddle stole from his Uncle belonged to Salazar Slytherin.

"Didn't I tell you I was distantly descended?" Hepzibah asked curiously. "This has been handed down in the family for years and years. Lovely, isn't it? And all sorts of powers it's supposed to possess too, but I haven't tested them thoroughly. I just keep it nice and safe in here…"

If Harry had been surprised by the first treasure, he was absolutely shocked to see the second. From a small flat box, Hepzibah revealed familiar looking locket that Riddle didn't even hesitate to reach into the box and pull out the locket. He held it up to the light, staring completely transfixed by it. It had the mark of Slytherin on it, the serpentine 'S'.

"It had to pay an arm and a leg for it, but I couldn't let it pass, not a real treasure like that, had to have it for my collection," Hepzibah said excitedly. "Burke bought it, apparently, from a ragged-looking woman who seemed to have stolen it, but had no idea of its true value—"

Once again, Riddle's eyes flashed red as his grip on the chain of the locket tightened so his knuckles turned white. Hepzibah didn't notice this, of course, but Harry did. For a split second, Harry wondered if Riddle was going to hex Hepzibah right there.

"—I daresay Burke paid her a pittance but there you are," Hepzibah continued. "Pretty, isn't it? And again, all kids of powers attributed to it, though I just keep it nice and safe…" She took the locket back and put it in the red velvet cushion of the thin box. "So there you are, Tom, dear, and I hope you enjoyed that!" It was then that Hepzibah noticed the strange look on Tom's face. "Are you all right, dear?"

"Oh yes," Riddle said quietly. "Yes, I'm very well."

"I thought—but a trick of the light, I suppose," Hepzibah said offhandedly as she handed the small box over to the small house-elf. "Here, Hokey, take these away and lock them up again…The usual enchantments."

"Time to leave, Harry," Professor Dumbledore said quietly as he took hold of Harry above the elbow and together they returned to Dumbledore's office. "I shall tell you that Hepzibah Smith died two days after that visit." He took his seat and motioned for Harry to do the same. "Hokey the house-elf was discovered to be the culprit, poisoning her mistress' cocoa by accident."

Harry stared at Dumbledore in surprise as he sat down. That had been the last thing he suspected to hear. Hokey had seemed so content with serving Hepzibah Smith. "That's not possible," he said at last. "How could she?"

"I shared your doubt, Harry," Dumbledore said seriously. "I am sure you recognize the similarities between this death and the death of the Riddles. In both instances, somebody else took the blame, confessing to the crime. Hokey remembered putting something in her mistress' cocoa that was not sugar after all, but an obscure and lethal poison. It was concluded that Hokey had not meant to do it but she was old and confused…"

Harry sat back in his chair as he took everything in. With the way the wizarding world treated house-elves, it wasn't surprising. Hokey was the obvious suspect so there was no need to look any further. "So Voldemort modified her memory in order to take what he believed was rightfully his," Harry concluded.

Dumbledore nodded. "I agree," he said, "but the locket was not the only artifact missing. Hepzibah's family searched her entire house only to discover that two of her most precious treasures were missing, the locket and the cup. Since Hepzibah had so many hiding places, it took her family long to be certain and by then, the assistant from Borgin and Burkes had resigned from his post and vanished. No one could find him and, for a long time, no one heard from him."

"But why?" Harry asked in confusion. "I can understand why Voldemort felt a need to take the locket but why the cup? What was the point?"

"The cup came from a founder of Hogwarts, Harry," said Dumbledore. "I believe Voldemort still felt a great pull toward the school and could not resist the object. I also believe there were other reasons but I ask you to be patient for now. As you can see from this memory, Voldemort had committed another murder but this time it was not for revenge but for personal gain. He stole those two objects just as he had once robbed the other children at his orphanage, just as he had stolen his Uncle's ring."

So Voldemort was a kleptomaniac. That was actually rather disturbing. Being a mass murderer was one thing but being a mass murderer who collected items from those murders was just sick.

"And now for the next recollection," Dumbledore continued as he rose to his feet, walked around the desk and picked up a glass bottle, leaving Harry's on the desk. "Ten years separate Hokey's memory from this one, a span of time that we can only guess what Lord Voldemort had been up to. We now go into one of my memories, Harry, for this was possibly my last meeting with Voldemort before the war began."

Harry rose to his feet as Dumbledore poured the silvery contents into the Pensieve. He didn't miss the somber tone in Dumbledore's voice or the look on Dumbledore's face that made him appear to be so old. Shaking his head, Harry followed Dumbledore into the Pensieve, landing in the very office he had just left. Fawkes was sleeping on his perch and sitting behind his desk was Dumbledore, looking nearly identical to the Dumbledore standing beside Harry. The only difference was that there were two healthy hands on the Dumbledore they were watching and his face was slightly younger. The office appeared to be exactly like the present-day office except for the presence of snow drifting past the window and building up on the outside ledge.

There was a knock at the door followed by the younger Dumbledore saying, "Enter."

The door opened to reveal a very different Voldemort. He appeared to be a strange mixture of Tom Riddle and the current day Voldemort. The eyes were not snake-like or as scarlet and the face still looked human bit any sign of the handsome Tom Riddle was gone. It was almost like his features and become permanently distorted and waxy. The long black cloak he was wearing made his face appear even paler than what it probably was. Voldemort looked like he was dying. There was really no other way to explain it.

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

"Thank you," Voldemort said as he took the seat in front of Dumbledore's desk. "I heard that you had become headmaster." His voice held a higher pitch and was colder than what Harry remembered. "A worthy choice."

"I am glad you approve," Professor Dumbledore said with a polite smile on his face. "May I offer you a drink?"

It seemed like there was certainly a forced pleasantness between the two men, at least to Harry. Here were two men who clearly had different points of view and didn't trust the other but instead of being honest of what they believe to be true, they were dancing around with small talk.

"That would be welcome," Voldemort said. "I have come a long way."

Professor Dumbledore rose to his feet and walked over to the cabinet that would hold the Pensieve in the future but was currently full of bottles. When Dumbledore handed Voldemort a goblet of wine and poured one for himself, he returned to his seat with the polite smile still on his face. "So, Tom…to what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked.

Silence filled the room as Voldemort took a slow sip of his wine. "They do not call me 'Tom' anymore," he said at last. "These days, I am known as—"

"I know what you are known as," Dumbledore interrupted pleasantly. "But to me, I am 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."

That was certainly true. Harry had plenty of experience with the adults in his life still seeing him as the small child who had been rescued from an abusive Uncle. Voldemort, on the other hand, wasn't so accepting of the comment. Even though Voldemort kept his face impartial, his entire body was extremely tense. It was clear Voldemort hated his birth name and Dumbledore's rejection to acknowledge the name proved that Dumbledore still had some power over Voldemort.

"I am surprised you have remained here so long," Voldemort said, breaking the tense silence. "I always wondered why a wizard such as yourself never wished to leave school." The polite chatter continued between the two wizards. Harry could tell that Voldemort was desperately trying to soften Dumbledore up until he finally reached the reason he had come. "I have returned 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 that you permit me to return to this castle, to teach. I think you 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."

Professor Dumbledore stared at Voldemort over his own goblet for a long moment before finally speaking. "Yes," he said softly, "I certainly do know that you have seen and done much since leaving us. Rumors of your doings have reached your old school, Tom. I should be sorry to believe half of them."

Voldemort waved off the implication. "Greatness inspires envy, envy engenders spite, spite spawns lies," he said evenly. "You must know this, Dumbledore."

Well someone is certainly defensive.

The polite chatter continued. Both men were clearly at an impasse. Voldemort believed that his type of magic was the most powerful while Dumbledore certainly didn't want Voldemort's type of magic at Hogwarts. Harry didn't miss the red look in Voldemort's eyes when Dumbledore questioned Voldemort about the rumored Death Eaters or the suddenly tense look on Voldemort's face when Dumbledore called them 'servants'. The meeting was quickly turning away from Voldemort's favor and Voldemort knew it.

Finally, Professor Dumbledore put his goblet down and sat up with the tips of his fingers together. "Let us speak openly," he said in a firm tone. "Why have you come here tonight, surrounded by henchmen, to request a job we both know you do not want?"

That caught Voldemort by surprise. "A job I do not want?" he asked. "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," Dumbledore countered. "What is it you're after, Tom? Why not try an open request for once?"

Of course Voldemort wasn't about to tell the truth and the meeting came to a quick end. Before Harry could think too much of what had just transpired, Voldemort had left the room and the older Dumbledore was pulling him out of the Pensieve. Harry immediately sat down in his chair, his mind whirling. Did Voldemort want to teach? To an extent. Voldemort wanted to teach children his form of magic but that couldn't be the only reason. There must have been another agenda…something else that only Hogwarts could provide.

The cup…the locket…the ring…

"Voldemort wanted more items from the founders, didn't he?" Harry asked at last. "He wanted to add to his collection."

Professor Dumbledore smiled softly as he picked up the final glass bottle. "Possibly," he said evasively. "I believe we shall know for certain after we see the final memory for it is the final piece of the puzzle."

"Was the Defense position open for him, sir?" Harry asked curiously.

Dumbledore removed the cork from the bottle with his wand. "It was," he said then smiled, "and has been ever since. You see, Harry, after I refused the post to Lord Voldemort, we have not been able to keep a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher for more than a year."

Harry looked at Dumbledore in surprise. "So the position is really cursed?" he asked.

Dumbledore chuckled. "I have no other explanation for the strange occurrences that have surrounded our Defense teachers," he said. "Sirius could have returned to teaching this year but he declined the offer. He felt that Remus' recovery and your safety was more important. I agreed with him. Remus' recovery was extremely temperamental. One wrong step could have pushed him into a coma or worse. Sirius' reservations concerning you were also warranted. You had been taken from this very school by Death Eaters, Death Eaters who currently have children here. If Sirius hadn't taken moves to improve security surrounding you, I would have."

Harry rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what lengths Sirius went to in order to ensure his safety. Sirius was extremely overprotective on a good day. Harry didn't want to think of the amount of threatening Sirius had probably done in order to allow Harry's return to Hogwarts. "What about Professor Snape, sir?" he asked curiously. "Wouldn't the curse apply to him too?"

Professor Dumbledore's smile faltered for a split second before he let out a sigh and poured the bottle's contents into the Pensieve. "The future is impossible to predict, Harry," he said sincerely. "Now, I believe we should take a look at this before the hour grows too late. After you, my boy."

For the third time, Harry entered the Pensieve, falling into nothingness only to land in Horace Slughorn's office from years ago. A younger Slughorn sat in the comfortable winged armchair with his feet resting on a velvet pouffe. His hair was straw-colored, thick, and shiny while his walrus-like mustache was gingery-blond. He had a glass of wine in one had while his other was buried in a box of crystallized pineapple. Around him were six teenage boys, Tom Riddle being one of them. Marvolo's ring was shining in the light on his finger.

"Sir, is it true that Professor Merrythought is retiring?" Riddle asked as Professor Dumbledore landed beside Harry.

"Tom, Tom, if I knew I couldn't tell you," Slughorn said as he shook a reproving finger at Riddle although it was clearly not meant by the discrete wink. "I must say, I'd like to know where you get your information, boy, more knowledgeable than half the staff, you are."

Riddle simply smiled while the boys around him laughed. These teenagers were nothing more than lackeys, reminding Harry of how Crabbe and Goyle acted around Malfoy. Riddle certainly wasn't the oldest of the group of teenagers but it was clear there was no dispute he was their leader.

"What with your uncanny ability to know things you shouldn't, and your careful flattery of the people who matter—thank you for the pineapple, by the way, you're quite right, it is my favorite," Slughorn rambled on as a few of the boys chuckled. "I confidently expect you to rise to Minister of Magic within twenty years. Fifteen, if you keep sending me pineapple. I have excellent contacts at the Ministry."

And Riddle would certainly be an excellent 'contact' for Slughorn to have, if he hadn't turned into a mass murderer.

Riddle smiled. "I don't know that politics would suit me, sir," he said. "I don't have the right kind of background, for one thing."

"Nonsense," Slughorn said quickly. "Couldn't be plainer you come from decent Wizarding stock, abilities like yours. No, you'll go far, Tom, I've never been wrong about a student yet."

There was certainly a first time for everything. Perhaps that was why Slughorn had been so determined to keep this memory a secret. It had been the first time he had been wrong. It had been the first time a student had outsmarted him.

Slughorn was startled by the chiming from the small clock on his desk, signaling eleven o'clock. "Good gracious, is it that time already?" he asked in surprise. "You'd better get going boys, or we'll all be in trouble. Lestrange, I want you essay in by tomorrow or its detention. Same goes for you, Avery." All of the boys slowly left the room except for Riddle while Slughorn extracted himself from his armchair. He wasn't aware of Riddle's presence until Riddle moved, causing Slughorn to turn around. "Look sharp, Tom, you don't want to be caught out of bed out of hours, and you a prefect…"

"Sir," Riddle said carefully, "I wanted to ask you something."

Slughorn smiled. "Ask away, then, m'boy, ask away…"

"Sir, I wondered what you know about…" Riddle paused, a nervous look appeared on his face, "…about Horcruxes?"

A sharp pain erupted from Harry's right temple. Waves of fear, frustration and anger surrounded him. He felt cold and ill. Grabbing his head, Harry tried to push away the pain and the emotions away and focus on what he should be watching. What's going on?

"Project for Defense Against the Dark Arts, is it?" Slughorn asked.

"Not exactly, sir," Riddle said politely. "I came across the term while reading and I didn't fully understand it."

"No…well…you'd be hard-pushed to find a book at Hogwarts that'll give you details on Horcuxes, Tom, that's very Dark stuff, very Dark indeed," said Slughorn.

The pain intensified slightly. Harry tried to shake the pain away as he blinked repeatedly at Slughorn and Riddle.

"But you obviously know all about them, sir?" Riddle asked hopefully. "I mean, a wizard like you—sorry, I mean if you can't tell me, obviously—I just knew if anyone could tell me, you could—so I just thought I'd ask—"

"Well," Slughorn said uncomfortably as he played with the ribbon from the box of crystallized pineapple, "well, it can't hurt to give you an overview, of course. Just so that you understand the term. A Horcrux is the word used for an object in which a person has concealed part of their soul."

The pain spiked as the room seemed to brighten, forcing Harry to close his eyes.

"I don't quite understand how that works, though, sir," Riddle said, his voice sounding distant.

"Well, you split your soul, you see," Slughorn said, his voice also sounding faint, "and hide part of it in an object outside the body. Then, even if one's body is attacked or destroyed, one cannot die, for part of the soul remains earthbound and undamaged. But of course, existence in such a form…few would want it, Tom, very few. Death would be preferable."

"How do you split your soul?" asked Riddle eagerly. No matter how far away the voice sounded, there was no mistaking that Riddle was now hungry for the information.

"Well," Slughorn said uneasily, "you must understand that the soul is supposed to remain intact and whole. Splitting it is an act of violation, it is against nature."

"But how…do it?" asked Riddle, his voice losing the fight against the pain pounding in Harry's head.

"…act of evil…supreme act of evil…Killing rips the soul…creating a Horcrux…damage to his advantage…encase the torn portion—"

The pain had become too much. Harry grabbed his head with both hands as he fell to his knees. What was going on? He couldn't think. He couldn't move. Voices filled his ears…strange distorted voices that sounded familiar yet so foreign. Pain surrounded him as his body convulsed. He was barely aware of a hand resting on his back and the words surrounding him.

"What do you mean he was gone? It's impossible! Listen to me, I want Horace Slughorn dead! Do whatever it takes or you two will be killed in his place. You have one week." There was a scatter of feet hitting a stone floor. "I don't believe in coincidences. The old fool has to suspect…but how? It's impossible. Dumbledore never knew Slughorn said anything about Horcruxes."

"…would one Horcrux be much use? Can you only split your soul once?...stronger, to have your soul in more pieces…seven the most powerfully magical number…"

"Well, well, good afternoon, Harry. It seems that your beloved mentor is making my life difficult again. Unfortunately for you, I feel the need to release my anger. Crucio!" Pain upon pain seared through his body, causing Harry to cry out as he fell to the floor. The curse was lifted, leaving Harry gasping for breath. "Come now, Harry, you're usually much stronger than this. Crucio!" The pain returned with a vengeance. It felt like every muscle, every nerve was being ripped into pieces. Harry couldn't prevent the pain-filled screams that escaped his lips. At that moment, Harry was willing to do anything to make the pain stop. He wanted to die. Why couldn't he just die?

The pain vanished once again leaving Harry convulsing on the floor. "As enjoyable as this had been, Harry, I fear you can not be trusted with what you have heard. Obliviate!"

"Harry! Harry, please look at me!"

Slowly, Harry opened his eyes to see that he wasn't lying on the floor but being held in Remus' arms on the floor in Professor Dumbledore's office. His head was throbbing but it was nowhere near as painful as it had been moments ago. His entire body felt like lead. Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey entered his line of sight. Professor Dumbledore's lips were moving but Harry couldn't understand what was being said. His mind was a clouded mess making it impossible to process anything that had happened and what was happening now.

Harry felt someone tilting his head backwards while a hand pried his mouth open. A cold liquid was poured down his throat and almost instantly Harry felt his head clear. He was able to think. He was able to understand that he just remembered a memory that Voldemort had stolen from him while being held captive. Had it been the only one? Were there others where Voldemort tortured him just because he had been there?

A hand rested on his forehead, snapping him out of his thoughts. "Harry, please say something," Remus pleaded.

Harry groaned as he tried to move to sit upright but his body was still extremely heavy. Remus and Professor Dumbledore instantly helped Harry into the nearest chair, remaining at his side just in case. "I'm okay, I think," Harry croaked. His throat ached with each word. His gaze fell to the floor as he let out a long breath. He wasn't sure what to say. He had never told anyone about the vague nightmares that had plagued him for so long. He had thought they were just regular nightmares but they had been hints of the stolen memory, hints that Voldemort had indeed tortured him.

"Harry, would you please tell us what happened?" Professor Dumbledore asked gently.

Harry closed his eyes and tried to block the memory of his own screams. "Voldemort—I overheard him talking when he held me prisoner," he said softly. "He mentioned Professor Slughorn and was upset you had found him first, sir. He—he mentioned…"

"What he discussed with Horace years ago," Professor Dumbledore said compassionately as he rested a hand on Harry's shoulder. "It's all right, Harry. Voldemort can not hurt you here. It was just a memory."

Harry nodded slightly but remained silent. If only it were that simple. It wasn't just a memory. It had been a memory stolen from him and was possibly one of many. He should have known there was a reason for the nightmares. He should have known there had been a reason the term 'Horcrux' seemed so familiar.

"Harry?" Remus asked gently. "Harry, what is it?"

Letting out a tired sigh, Harry looked up at Remus' concerned face. He relayed the rest of what he remembered, omitting any mentioning of the term 'Horcrux'. Once he had finished, Harry found himself being ushered into Dumbledore's guest bedroom. Before he could even raise a question, Harry's clothes were transfigured into pajamas, he was tucked into the familiar soft bed and a potion was poured down his throat. He barely had the time to recognize the potion as a Dreamless Sleeping Draught before darkness consumed him.