A/N: From this chapter onwards, review responses will not be published, as the guidelines are not very clear whether they're allowed or not. Replies shall be sent by private message.

I've also made major changes to this chapter. Apparently, Riddle begins his Horcrux creation process a year after he kills his parents. I've also included a few sentences to explain the fact that Riddle used Morfin's wand to kill his father and grandparents. He's using Side-Along Apparition with Schwartz as he's not learnt it yet (I've changed that as well). For convenience's sake, they're meeting at a different place that's much closer to the orphanage.

I'm not sure when I'll update next, as Chapter 5 is not proving very easy to write. It's not exactly a writer's block that I'm facing: it's a bit sluggish and I want to make sure that I don't make blunders like I've made in the earlier versions this chapter. I'm sorry for any inconvenience.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any associated trademarks. They are owned by JKR, Warner Bros, Bloomsbury et. al. However, I do own the plot and anything else that I've made up.

Chapter Four

Opposite Motives

Dumbledore bent down and looked attentively at Grindelwald's emblem, which was marked on one of the legs of his chair. Slowly and cautiously, he reached out and tried to feel the insignia. However, he could not touch it, no matter how much force he applied. He raised his wand, pointed it at the red mark and thought, Reducto!

The spell was reflected straight back at him. Dumbledore dodged it just in time. He looked at the sign again, deep in thought. There has to be an anomaly in the magical shield. I must find it.

He focused his attention on the shield. He had to find a weakness in it, but he used obscure spells instead of using wandless magic to locate the anomaly. In a matter of minutes, he found it. But he did not raise his wand immediately.

The mission had been easy this far … a little too easy. What if this was an ingenious trap designed to fool the few who might have guessed the reason for Grindelwald's eternal life?

Dumbledore stood back, braced himself for the worst, and pointed his wand at what he deemed to be the anomaly in the magical shield.

This time, the Reductor Curse worked perfectly. The chair had been reduced to mere sawdust. But something flew out of the chair due to the profound force of the curse.

The object landed a few feet away from Dumbledore with a scraping noise. Dumbledore raised his wand and proceeded towards the strange thing; stopping mere inches away from it.

It was a circular brooch, which was marked with the familiar red "G". Dumbledore thought that there might be another magical shield surrounding it. In spite of knowing the risk, he pointed his wand at it and thought, 'Reducto.'

To Dumbledore's utter surprise, the trinket was reduced to dust. But there seemed to be an eerie, blackish aura surrounding the dust. Dumbledore stepped back cautiously. A few seconds later, the remains of the brooch vanished, to be replaced by black smoke that was rising fast. The smoke hovered in the air and took the shape of a face that Dumbledore had seen in a memory.

Grindelwald's smoky form seemed to gaze at Dumbledore for a moment before fading altogether. He took it as a sign that he had destroyed Grindelwald's only Horcrux.

Dumbledore turned back, and walked towards the exit of the dwelling. However, as he was walking, new thoughts raised their heads in his mind.

What if Grindelwald had come to know that his Horcrux had been destroyed?

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Nearly two years after the destruction of the Dark Master's Horcrux, a tall, handsome and dark haired boy was walking away stealthily from the Riddle House in Little Hangleton late one night. He was carrying an unlit lantern in one hand.

It was an easy job, thought the young man, as he took a quick look around the garden of the house. His eyes lingered on the gardener's living quarters for a moment, to make sure that the gardener was inside. In a matter of minutes, he was outside the gates of the Riddle House.

It had to be done, thought Riddle, that fool of a Muggle and his parents had to be killed. He felt absolutely no regret or remorse about his deeds. However, he had unfinished business to do. He had to pay another visit to Morfin Gaunt. He lit the lantern and walked towards Morfin's place.

After walking for a long time, Riddle reached a group of trees that had a pathway. He walked down the path to a clearing in which a ruined cottage was located. He opened the door, which had a dead snake nailed to it, without bothering to knock. He took his wand out of a pocket of his shabby Muggle overcoat and held the lamp above his head.

The sole occupant of this house was Morfin Gaunt, Riddle's maternal uncle. Morfin was a deranged man with wild, filthy hair and beard that obscured his face. Currently, he was slumped on the floor, unconscious, thanks to Riddle. He pointed his wand at Morfin, focused on the result, and murmured, "Obliviate."

Riddle knew that his spell had worked perfectly, for the oddly peaceful expression on Morfin's face did not change. His eyes fell on an unsightly gold ring with a large, black stone set in it. He placed the lantern on the floor; took the ring from Morfin's finger and scrutinised it carefully. There was a coat of arms engraved on the stone. Riddle recognised the crest instantly. It belonged to the Peverell family. The Peverells were an old English wizarding family who were rumoured to have had had close ties with Salazar Slytherin himself. As a gesture of friendship, the Peverells had forged this ring by magical means and given it to the Gaunts for safekeeping. However, the last descendant of the Peverells had passed away many centuries ago.

Riddle's thoughts returned to the present. He looked at Morfin, knowing that he would come around soon. He took Morfin's wand out of one of the pockets (he had used it to kill the Muggles living in the Riddle house), placed the wand beside his uncle's slumped form and left the house quickly and quietly, wearing the ring as he did so.

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A few days after the completion of his sixth year at Hogwarts (and nearly a year after he had killed his relatives) Riddle was walking swiftly towards the entrance of a pub that was located on Charing Cross Road in London. He had to meet someone far away from the Muggle orphanage that he stayed at. Wizards frequented that particular pub, and it was unlikely that he would meet any Hogwarts student this early. As for the Muggles on the road, he could not avoid that particular inconvenience. He spotted a black-robed figure with a long, billowing cloak as he was approaching the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron pub. The cloaked person seemed to be waiting for him, oblivious to the suspicious stares of passers-by. As Riddle came closer, he could see that it was a face he recognised.

The cloaked wizard was a little shorter than Riddle. His dirty blond hair was showing sure signs of greying. The brown eyes had dark circles under them and his forehead was slightly lined. Riddle was sure that Ulbrecht Schwartz was in his middle ages (by wizard standards).

"Hello, Riddle," said Schwartz. "It's been a long time since we have met."

Schwartz was right. It had been nearly six months since they had last met. Riddle was going to pay a visit to Grindelwald. This was not the first time that he had been to see him, of course. It was deceptively easy.

It had started at the beginning of Riddle's fifth year. Through a few of his Slytherin friends, he had met Schwartz, who was a follower of Grindelwald. On a few Hogsmeade weekends, he would meet Schwartz, who would then Apparate both of them to Germany. However, the risks were great. Riddle would have been in deep trouble if any others had got wind of his "jaunts", so to speak. These trips to Germany had been to one village: Magische Festung. From there on, they had to Apparate to Grindelwald's dwelling. Apparently, it had been protected by the Fidelius Charm. Schwartz had handed him a paper revealing the location of the Dark Master's hideout.

Persuading Grindelwald was easy, too. Even though Grindelwald had seemed to be cautious at first, he had appeared to be impressed when Riddle had shown his abilities of Dark Magic.

"What are you thinking, Riddle?" asked Schwartz. Riddle snapped out of his reverie and said,

"Nothing." The swarm of Muggles had now decreased considerably along with the irritating stares.

"You know the routine," said Schwartz, scrutinizing Riddle more carefully and to Riddle's slight discomfiture, noticed the ring on his finger.

"Where did you get the ring? I haven't seen you wearing it before," said Schwartz.

"I bought it, of course. It is not a Muggle artefact, Schwartz, if that is what you are thinking," said Riddle.

Schwartz appeared to be convinced.

"Follow me," whispered Schwartz. Both men walked down the street for fifteen minutes, and turned into a much narrower and darker road that was deserted. There were a few Muggle apartments, whose occupants were minding their own business.

They stopped walking. Schwartz looked around, and nodded to Riddle. He gripped the older wizard's forearm and the other wizard turned. The next instant, both men had vanished from the spot without a trace.

Riddle felt the familiar sense of being compressed from all sides. In a few seconds, the pressure had disappeared. He and Schwartz were standing in front of an old-fashioned, large building that was located in a broad street. Riddle could see many other shops and a few houses in the same row. Unlike in most Muggle towns, the lamps in Magische Festung were burning brightly.

Riddle and Schwartz stepped into The Weiss Inn. The landlord, Eberhard Weiss, greeted the men in German.

"What brings you here, Ulbrecht?" asked Weiss.

"I took a day's leave from my job at Berlin," said Schwartz.

Riddle took a seat at an old, weathered wooden table near the two men. He glanced at Schwartz and Weiss, who were still talking to each other. Riddle was looking at Weiss, who he had met only six months ago.

Eberhard Weiss was a young wizard in his mid-thirties. His black hair was rough and slightly untidy. He wore a set of magnificent green robes that was plain save for the word "Weiss" that was present on the left side of his chest beneath an elegant family crest. His eyes were black and at the moment, there seemed to be a gleam of happiness within them. Weiss gave a loud sneeze, covering his sharp nose with a handkerchief.

"Excuse me," muttered Weiss. He caught Riddle staring at him. "Hello," he said politely, "If I am correct, is your name Riddle?"

"Yes," said Riddle, rising from his seat and shaking Weiss's outstretched hand.

"I think I've seen you once before," he said. "All the way from England, I presume?"

Riddle replied in the affirmative, and said, "If you don't mind, Mr Weiss, both of us are tired. We would like some –"

"Of course," said Weiss. He looked slightly disappointed for a moment, and called, "Juno!"

Instantly, a house-elf appeared in front of Weiss. Juno the elf had large black eyes that were gazing at Weiss in respect. She wore a tea towel that was stamped with the Weiss family crest. As she bowed deeply, her large, bat-like ears seemed to quiver slightly.

"Take Mr Schwartz's and young Mr. Riddle's luggage to room numbers seventeen and eighteen," said Weiss.

"Of course, Mr Weiss," said the female house-elf in a high-pitched voice.

Schwartz handed over a travelling bag to the house elf. Riddle hadn't brought spare clothes or anything of the sort.

"Your baggage, Mr Riddle?" asked Weiss.

No sooner did Riddle start to reply than there was a loud crack heard outside the inn.

A huge, strong-looking blond man stepped into the inn, carrying a bag. He looked around for a moment, and spotted Riddle. "Hey, Riddle," he called out.

Riddle walked towards the newcomer rather quickly. He was torn between relief and exasperation at the blond teenager. Once he was close to him, he whispered, "I want to have a word with you. We'll talk outside."

"Okay," he said in a low voice. Riddle turned to the others. Weiss was looking puzzled, Schwartz's eyebrows were raised slightly in suspicion, and the elf was looking curiously at them.

"Gentlemen, excuse us," he said, and stepped out of the inn with Yaxley. They stood a few paces away from the door. Riddle turned to Yaxley.

"Herbert Yaxley, why were you so tactless?" asked Riddle.

"I followed your orders, Riddle. You'd asked me to bring your baggage from that Muggle orphanage. Why do you stay there, anyway?" asked Yaxley.

"I'm planning to move out shortly," said Riddle. "Did that Cole woman ask you anything?"

"I just told her that I was your friend. I managed to … persuade her a bit. Anyway, what're you doing here?"

"Is that any of your business?" said Riddle coldly, hiding his surprise at Yaxley thinking correctly for once. Herbert Yaxley was nothing but a thuggish bully, looking for better ways of perfecting his art. That was the only reason Riddle had brought the seventh-year Slytherin under his control. At age nineteen, Yaxley was the oldest student currently studying at Hogwarts, because he had to do his fifth and sixth years twice. When Yaxley passed his Apparition test on his first attempt, nearly everyone was stunned. Riddle knew that even if Yaxley asked a few questions, the lamest answers (or retorts) would be enough to persuade him.

"You may leave," Riddle added, taking his bag from Yaxley, who turned and Disapparated.

As Riddle stepped into the inn, he saw that Schwartz and Weiss were engaged in casual conversation. He knew that Schwartz was not foolish enough to drop any hint about his true allegiance; for he, Schwartz, was the Dark wizard who had attempted to assassinate Garin Kaiser, the German Minister for Magic; along with Mark Yaxley. Mark Yaxley had been caught red-handed, but Schwartz had escaped. Fortunately, no one (except Riddle, the followers of Grindelwald and the Dark Master himself) knew about the identity of Mark Yaxley's accomplice. Mark Yaxley had died a week ago, spending his last days in Azkaban in complete mental turmoil.

Weiss turned, and spotted Riddle. "Well, then," he said. "I believe that you wanted dinner, Mr Riddle."

"Certainly," said Riddle. He gave his bag to the elf, who bowed and Disapparated.

Fifteen minutes later, Riddle and Schwartz were ready to go to their rooms. Weiss gave them their magical keys. Riddle was given a key that was ornately engraved with the number eighteen.

"The rooms are located on the first floor. Shall I send someone to guide you?" said Weiss.

"No, thank you, Eberhard," said Schwartz. "I think I can find my way on my own."

"I don't think I need an elf to guide me, thank you, Mr Weiss," said Riddle, more contemptuously than he had intended.

Weiss's expression seemed to change momentarily to suspicion. Then he bade them goodnight rather cheerfully.

Was that a false cheer in his voice? A few people had said that Weiss appeared to be a shrewd person, albeit he did not show it. Riddle felt the same way.

In ten minutes, Riddle found his room. It was rather comfortable. He sat up in his bed for some time after removing his jacket and placing his wand on the headboard. He had changed into his pyjamas and drawn the covers up to his waist. He was looking intently at a small, black diary that was from a Muggle shop in London, judging by the address on the back cover.

Riddle flipped idly through the blank diary. Persuading Mrs Cole had not been easy, because she had been sharp, as always. It had taken many clever words to convince her that he wanted to go and explore places other than the boring Muggle village that the inmates of the orphanage visited every summer. After a debate lasting around half-an-hour, the woman had given him a week's time, but Riddle had told her that he would probably return in less than seven days. He had been partly surprised that his persuasion did not require the use of a Memory Charm.

Riddle reached out to take his wand. He pointed it towards the door and the lock clicked into place, then he turned it towards the diary. Before doing anything else, he listened carefully for any sound outside the room. There was perfect silence. Normally, it would have seemed slightly unnerving, but it was exactly what Riddle wanted.

Riddle's wand was pointed at the diary. He mustered his powers of concentration and thought, Arca Memorie.

A beam of white light connected the tip of Riddle's wand and the diary for a second. There was a blinding flash of white light, and then the diary was looking perfectly normal. The beam of white light had also vanished without a trace. The single lamp in the room was dim.

Riddle gave a satisfied smile, and opened a particular page in the diary. There was nothing written on the page, save for a few printed words: January 1, 1943.

He placed his wand to his temple, closing his eyes and focused on the events of the later part of his fifth year. Numerous memories flooded his brain; images were rushing into his mind, staying for one brief moment before giving way to another …

The Chamber of Secrets was finally open … Riddle was speaking to the Basilisk that had hibernated for centuries … many teenagers had been Petrified, with ghastly expressions on their faces … Riddle was speaking to Armando Dippet … Hagrid was running towards Riddle, trying to disarm him … a girl was lying dead in a bathroom with her eyes wide open as if in shock; her ghost floating right above her body … Riddle was placing a trunk in a compartment on the school train …

Riddle opened his eyes and withdrew his wand from his temple. A coiled, silvery-white substance was clinging to the tip of the wand. He placed the tip of his wand to the opened page of the diary, such that the long memory was touching the paper. In an instant, the page had absorbed the memory, leaving no traces behind.

Riddle smiled again. His plan was coming along perfectly. There was still one last step remaining, and that was to be done the next day.

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The next day, Tom Riddle woke up long before sunrise. When he was ready, Riddle walked towards Ulbrecht Schwartz's room and gave a soft knock. For a few seconds, all was silent. Then, sounds could be heard from the room: the wizard within was grumbling. A moment later, the door opened to reveal a frowning Schwartz.

"A little too over-enthusiastic, eh, Riddle?" he said, clearly displeased that he had been disturbed from his sleep. He smoothed his dressing gown and took out a large watch from his pocket.

"We seem to be a little early," continued Schwartz. "Give me some time, Riddle. Then we shall proceed." He closed the door softly. Riddle heard Schwartz give a yawn.

Riddle made sure that he had his wand and diary in his robe pocket before walking down to the dining area.

Apparently, the two Dark wizards were not the only ones awake at this hour. The landlord, Weiss was behind the bar, wearing a different set of robes, which also had the Weiss crest on them.

Weiss gave Riddle a practiced smile, despite his slightly dishevelled appearance. "Good morning, Mr Riddle. I presume you've had a good night's sleep?"

"Yes, Mr Weiss," replied Riddle mechanically.

"If I may enquire, what brings you downstairs at this hour?"

"I have an important business to attend, along with Mr Schwartz," Riddle replied.

"I thought that Ulbrecht was on leave?"

"You see, Mr Weiss –" began Riddle, but he stopped when he heard footsteps coming down the stairs rather rapidly.

Schwartz ran into the lobby, slightly out of breath. "Good morning, Tom," he said. Riddle observed the sudden use of his first name.

"Good Morning, Ulbrecht!" said Weiss. "I see you seem to be in a hurry, so I think both of you need a quick breakfast –"

"No, thank you, Eberhard; I think a shot of Ogden's Old Firewhisky will be enough for me," said Schwartz.

Riddle, however, opted for a small breakfast as Schwartz drank his Firewhisky. Weiss was telling Schwartz that German Firewhiskies were better than English ones, but Schwartz did not seem to be interested in such trivial talks.

In five minutes, Riddle and Schwartz had stepped out of the inn after exchanging goodbyes with the innkeeper.

A few steps away from the inn, the duo stopped abruptly, and turned. A moment later, both of them had Disapparated, making a characteristic popping sound.

To be continued …