"I'm sorry My Lord," Abraxas choked on the forkful of potatoes he'd just eaten, "you want us to what?"
Tom glared across the table at him, though he continued to cut his own dinner up into manageable bites, "you heard."
"But….but-" he spluttered.
"But nothing Malfoy." Tom said and Abraxas flinched at his tone, "blood purity is nonsense. You know this. I know you know this."
Abraxas continued to gape, open-mouthed at him until Thoros elbowed him and he acquiesced, nodded his head solemnly and murmured a quiet "yes Tom."
Tom cast his eyes around him. Everyone else, his knights, had accepted his decision with little to no fuss. It helped of course that Avery himself, was half in love with a muggleborn of his own from Hufflepuff. Lestrange had been sleeping with numerous half-bloods. Nott had discovered his own soulmate in a pure blooded Gryffindor whose parents were staunch opposers to blood purity. There would be no trouble from them.
Not as long as they still got what they wanted from him in the long run.
It was incredibly difficult to achieve immortality, or well, a way to stay in the state he was now Tom discovered. He didn't want to be an old man when he finally met her.
"You don't honestly think you missed something in these books do you?" Mulciber mumbled one afternoon.
They graduated Hogwarts in three days, and whilst Tom had been over the books with a fine tooth comb numerous times already, he knew it wouldn't hurt to have a few other people do so as well.
"No, Mulciber, I don't."
Nobody spoke again for the remainder of the afternoon, but they still didn't find a way to help.
Tom had always taken a job at Borgin & Burkes. He was interested in all the dark and dangerous artifacts that he could possibly come into contact with and he'd been proven right on more than one occasion. Still, this time he was a good head boy and actually pursued some of the offer's he'd been made by the various departments in the ministry. He did, after all, have excellent recommendations from both Dippet and Slughorn and well, when had the latter ever let the ministry down in acquiring a bright, new mind?
It was the DOM that interested him most though. He did after all, still have to discover a way to attain immortality without sacrificing a bit of his soul.
It took him three years to finally qualify as an unspeakable. He had spent his time fostering relationships with as many people as he could and gathering the founder's items he had used in his past lives as horcruxes.
He had killed and maimed and -
He was still not to be trifled with. His soul was still whole.
But he was sane and wealthy, much more wealthy than he could ever remember being before in any other life, and he still had his power.
Of course, his knights all had their own jobs and were busy improving their own selves while he was in the DOM learning any and everything that he could. It amazed him that so much magic was locked away from the general wizarding populace.
He knew that one day, when he was in charge of the ministry (because he had no doubt that it wouldn't be a difficult task to accomplish), he would stop hiding it away and share it with his fellow witches and wizards. What was the point of magic if not to be shared and learned and garnered?
"So," his supervisor, a man whose only defining feature was the way his left eye twitched every time he spoke, said, "you want to focus on death?"
Tom had practised his answer to this very question numerous times at home alone in his flat above Flourish and Blotts. Sure, he could afford to buy a house of his own, hell, if he wanted he could be living in the abandoned Riddle Manor in Little Hangleton. But he chose to stay in a tiny flat above Diagon Alley's bookstore for the exact same reason he chose to work in the DOM. It gave him the greatest chance at discovering just how he was going to attain immortality. Of course, he wasn't eager for anyone other than those he had deemed worthy of the knowledge to know that, so he'd practised a much more humble response. Except of course, when he met the man's eye he was unable to stop himself from spilling out the truth.
"No. I want to discover everlasting life."
Tom's eyes widened, shocked at his own admission. His supervisor's lips curled into a dangerous smile. Tom recognised it as one that often graced his own lips and knew that he'd been played. "Oh," the man said smugly, "you don't think one philosopher's stone is enough?" Tom snorted. His supervisor continued, "what about horcruxes? A nifty, if not incredibly dangerous a nd illegal option?"
Tom flinched and swallowed his trepidations, "No. I want to work on something else. Something new. Something that will allow me to meet my soulmate as the twenty year old man I am now rather than the seventy year old I will be when she's of age," he said, his hands curling into fists as the words escaped him unwillingly. "What the hell?" He shouted, jumping up from his chair.
"Sit down Mr. Riddle. You did not think I would know?" Silence. "You are not the first young man to enter this department with immortality in mind," Tom opened his mouth to protest but a look from the other man stopped him and he dropped back into his chair, "but," Tom's head snapped up, "you are the first to want it for not entirely selfish reasons. So. Tell me your ideas."
"Mr. Riddle."
Tom jumped, startled, and looked up to see Albus Dumbledore standing outside of his flat. He schooled his expression. "Prof- Albus," he said coming to a stop a few feet away from him, "What a surprise, can I help you?"
Tom hadn't seen his professor since he'd graduated, he hadn't given the old man much thought if he were honest. He had so many other things to consider and plan and - his transfiguration professor never really factored into them, not when he wasn't becoming a 'Dark Lord' this time around.
"I was in the neighbourhood and well, I thought I might drop in on our illustrious head boy, find out how you've been doing for myself. Horace speaks so fondly of you after all."
Tom's eyebrows furrowed but he simply nodded and stepped past the old man, "of course, " he agreed, "come in for some tea."
Dumbledore didn't answer, he simply followed Tom up the stairs to his flat and settled himself in one of the chairs whilst Tom busied himself in the kitchen with hot water and cups.
"I hear you're doing quite well for yourself. Department of mysteries wasn't it?" Dumbledore asked from his seat. Tom tensed and cast him a glance over his shoulder.
"Yes." Albus nodded.
"Yes it's a mysterious place. Hidden within the bowels of the ministry. Lot's of," he paused, his tongue flicking against his lips, "possibilities."
Tom wasn't sure who moved first, but he had been too slow. Dumbledore had him bound to a chair and silenced before the reducto left his lips. "You know I was once trained as an unspeakable," he continued, ignoring Tom's maleficent glare, "they told me, after I'd dedicated three years of my life to them, that I simply wasn't what they were looking for. Imagine my surprise when I found out that you, Tom Riddle, a boy who tortured his fellow orphans, charmed his way through school, killed Hepzibah Smith, amongst a half a dozen or more witches and wizards, and has, up until this point gotten away with it, had succeeded where I had failed."
Tom tried to squirm in his chair, but the binds only seemed to tighten and he summoned all his magic in an effort to break free. It was enough only to end the silencing spell. "You won't get away with this," he rasped. Dumbledore laughed.
"Oh my dear boy, I already have."
Tom Riddle bolted upright in his bed. Sixteen years old without a horcrux to his name but, for the first time in his life a death caused by someone other than Harry Potter. He tugged his wand from under his pillow, charmed his drapes shut and encased his bed with the strongest silencing spell he knew before he let rip a scream of utter frustration.
Again.
He had to do it all again.
Though, admittedly with one difference.
Albus Dumbledore would be dead before he graduated this time.
