Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. All characters and rights belong to J.K Rowling.

Author's Note: Hey guys! Here they are, the three chapters from Tom's sixth year at Hogwarts. Have a good weekend and see you next week with more chapters :)

...Tom stared down at the piece of parchment. He had achieved 8 Outstanding OWLs and 1 Exceeds Expectations in Transfiguration. Dumbledore. Of course. Why, he knew this would happen. Looking curiously down at the little black E, Tom felt another slight tinge in his arm. He casually glanced down at it and noticed another, very faint little scratch...

CHAPTER 17: INVINCIBILITY

"Are you sure that seventh years stay behind at the school? Like…they stay there and they sleep there and they eat there? Everything?"

"Absolutely," Tom told Mrs. Cole who was staring at him from across her desk.

"Why didn't that professor tell me about this then?" said Mrs. Cole, mostly to herself.

"Oh, you mean Professor Dumbledore?" said Tom. "Right, well he's not headmaster at the school. He's only a teacher. The headmaster is the one who constitutes the bylaws."

"I see," said Mrs. Cole. "But with these difficult times now…surely they wouldn't…" she paused. "Well, er…I guess this is it then, isn't it?"

Tom rose from his seat to shake her hand.

"I guess it is," he told her.

"It's…it's been…l-lovely having you h-here, Tom," said Mrs. Cole, nervously. "Just…just lovely."

"I've had a blast," said Tom, unable to suppress the sarcasm in his voice.

He then picked up his bags and exited her office without another word.

It was September 1st, 1943—also known as Tom's very last day at the orphanage. He had made arrangements with Borgin to allow him to live above his shop next summer so he wouldn't have to return to the orphanage. Borgin had even offered him a job, though Tom wasn't sure he would take it just yet.

As he made his way down the hall towards the exit, little old Billy bumped into him and froze instantly. At only 13, he was just as tall as Tom himself. Though, at the sight of Tom, he dropped his head and narrowed his gaze at his feet. He had never quite gotten over what had happened in that cave all those years ago.

"A-are y-you l-l-leaving?" he managed to say, in a low voice.

"I am," said Tom. "Pleased, are you?"

"N-no," said Billy, unconvincingly. "I…I was just wondering."

"Yeah, well don't get your hopes up," said Tom. "I'm going to a much better place than you'll ever get to."

"Of…of course," said Billy. He started to say something else but Tom did not stick around.

He found the door quickly and climbed down the front steps into the cool morning. He stopped on the sidewalk and turned to look at Wool's Orphanage one last time. It really was a horrid place. He was bloody thrilled to be out of there. He hoped that the muggle war that was happening in Great Britain would burn it down soon. Turning his back on his childhood, he hailed a muggle car and sat in with his bags.

"King's Cross Station," he told the driver.

On the Hogwarts Express an hour later, Tom sat in a secluded compartment with Avery and Lestrange. Rowle, Selwynn, Rosier, and Davis had been instructed to sit in another compartment, though they looked quite hurt when Avery passed this along to them.

Tom stared out the window through most of the journey while Lestrange told him and Avery about his trip to the Ministry of Magic with his dad. In about ten minutes, Tom would have to leave them to go and join the Prefects compartment for a brief meeting. He absolutely detested the idea, but figured it'd be best if he got it over with quickly.

"...and then we visited the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and I also got to see the courtrooms though it's bloody cold down there but still…wicked cool," said Lestrange to a wide-eyed Avery.

"Wow!" exclaimed Avery. "And you got to meet him! You got to meet the Minister of Magic!"

"I met the Minister of Magic," said Tom, lazily. "Last year."

"Oh that's right!" exclaimed Avery, now turning his wide, round eyes to Tom. "What's he like?"

"A toad," said Tom simply. "You'd do a better job in his place, Avery."

Avery beamed at him.

"That's not a compliment," Tom clarified. "Minister of Magic, pfft."

Soon, Tom rose from his seat and exited the compartment, leaving the two to discuss goblin riots. He passed along the compartments, catching a few words from fellow students who were exchanging what, in Tom's opinion, were rather dull accounts of their summer activities. Tom quickly found the Prefects compartment on the end of the train and entered it quietly so as not to disturb the meeting that had already commenced.

"Ah hello, Riddle," said Lucas Bell of Ravenclaw, a 7th year. "Nice to see you again."

"Likewise," said Tom, who seated himself by the compartment door.

"How was your summer?" asked Bell, disregarding the nasty look that Jonathan Buckley was giving Tom from across the compartment.

"It was quite enjoyable," said Tom conversationally. "I met a few old family friends. We caught up and had a few laughs."

"That's nice," said Bell, turning away from him. "As I was saying before, I thought we'd try a new system this year to make the work distributed equally. We could have members from each house rotate amongst themselves.,..who will escort the first years around, who will confiscate illegal items. . ."

Tom watched Jonathan for a long time until he finally met his eyes. He looked very fearful which pleased Tom very much. Jonathan quickly looked away and remained quiet for the rest of the meeting.

Soon, the Hogwarts Express pulled in to Hogsmeade station and the students got off the train carrying their bags and pet cages. Tom strode away from the Death Eaters and into the prefect carriage, which they didn't notice him do. However, Tom stopped dead and stared at the carriage for he noticed, for the first time, what was pulling it. It had always seemed to him that the carriages pulled themselves by magic, but no. They were all being pulled by ugly, skeletal creatures that Tom had read about in one of his books…thestrals. And he knew perfectly well why he could see them now.

The crowd slowly descended for the carriages and one by one, they rode up to the large Hogwarts castle that was already twinkling with little lights from the windows. The first years were getting there by boat, as was tradition. The rest took the carriages. As they rode, Tom watched the thestrals carefully. He wondered who else was able to see them. No one besides him had actually seen Myrtle die and he doubted any of them had the opportunity to kill this last summer.

Feeling very pleased with himself, Tom got off the carriage as it halted to a stop, left his bags in the Entrance Hall, and went ahead into the Great Hall for the start-of-term feast. Headmaster Dippet was in his chair at the staff table, looking thrilled to have everyone back at school. Beside him sat Dumbledore who looked serious as always. Next was Professor Merrythought who, as Tom took his seat and narrowed his eyes at, looked older than she'd ever had before. And little Professor Flitwick was sipping from a glass of wine right next to her. Then Tom caught sight of Professors Beery and Kettleburn among many others, before taking his seat at the Slytherin table along with the rest of the students.

The Sorting Ceremony was particularly long that year, as there were many students to go through. It was a while before the feast actually began and that too, seemed to last a long time. A couple of times during the feast, Tom felt a slight tinge in his arm which he tried to ignore, though it was proving to be a lot harder. Tom noticed as he glanced over at the Gryffindor table a couple of times that most of the Gryffindors were quiet and hardly any of them looked cheerful. They probably still hadn't gotten over poor Hagrid's explusion, thought Tom. He tried hard to suppress a grin at that moment.

As it was Tom who had escorted the first year Slytherins to their common room last year, he was freed from the burden of the task this year. So, he dodged down the halls towards the dungeons, leaving the Death Eaters looking for him. Just before he turned the corner he spotted the Bloody Baron floating on and about. Baron froze at the sight of Tom.

"Hello sir," he said coolly. "Haven't seen you in a while. I suppose congratulations are in order."

"For what?" spat Tom, who was growing rather impatient with the ghost.

"For your accomplishments last year," said Baron. "You know…that poor mudblood that was killed. The Chamber of Secrets opening and all that… you really are much better than Salazar Slytherin himself was, I must say—"

"Shut up."

"Uh, yes sir."

Tom walked right through him and descended down the dungeons to the Slytherin common room. He quickly retreated to his dormitory and closed the curtains around his four-poster bed. Checking that he was completely alone, he pulled up his sleeve and examined his left arm. More scratches had materialised, all of them faint against his pale white skin. Worry, such that he had never experienced before, began to well up in his chest and his heart beat rapidly. Had something gone wrong with the horcruxes? Did he not do the procedure correctly? Was this a side effect?

"S-sir?" came Avery's mouse-like voice from the door a little while later. "Sir, are…are we having a m-meeting today? Everyone's downstairs waiting…"

Wasting no time, Tom flew open the curtains, pointed his wand at Avery and practically shouted Stupefy. He closed the curtains again after he heard the loud thump of Avery's body hitting the wall. Tom got into bed and closed his eyes, without checking that Avery had not been knocked out.

The following morning, after breakfast, Tom waited for Professor Dippet who walked along the Slytherin table and handed out timetables. When he finally reached Tom, he beamed at him for a couple of long seconds.

"How was your summer, Tom?"

"It was splendid, sir," answered Tom, smiling brightly.

"Good, good," said Dippet, happily. He flipped through the sheets in his hands and finally picked one out. "Nothing but outstandings! Oh and one exceeds expectations. Hmm..I'm surprised. But no worries, I know Dumbledore has no problem accepting students with exceeds expectations. Do-do you wish to continue with Transfiguration?"

Tom paused. He hadn't thought about it before now. He knew he wanted to drop Care of Magical Creatures and Astronomy, but would dropping Transfiguration be too suspicious for Dumbledore? He thought it best to keep Dumbledore far so he couldn't bombard him with more interrogations, but close so he could monitor his movements.

"I do, sir," he finally told Dippet.

The next couple of months really did fly on by. Now that Tom was a NEWT student, his hands were full with Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts homework and occasional essays for Herbology and Ancient Runes and Potions. Tom spent virtually every Hogsmeade weekend up at the school studying, having grown bored with the village. Though, he specifically instructed his Death Eaters to go ahead without him, for he didn't really enjoy their company nowadays. Somehow, his mind was always centered on the faint scratch marks that were forming along his arm, much like a puzzle. Every time a new one formed, he felt a slight tinge that went away quickly. He now took particular care in making sure that his sleeves were always rolled down.

Feeling quite panicked, Tom began to visit the library again and reread Secrets of the Darkest Art. But no matter how many times he did this, he could not find any information on multiple horcruxes or the side effects or dangers in creating them. He knew that sooner or later, he would have to ask someone who knew about them. But who? They were such a dark art. Who at Hogwarts would know about them? His question was answered too quickly. Of course Dumbledore knew all about them. What didn't Dumbledore know? But no. Tom would never go to him for this. That would be a suicide mission. He might as well just hand over his diary and ring as well.

Professor Dippet had taken such a strong liking to Tom that he beamed at him with such admiration every time he passed by him and always stopped to have a little chat about classes or the weather. Tom played along, knowing exactly what was behind all this. Dippet was very thankful to Tom for stopping last year's disasters by turning in Hagrid. Tom felt bad for the old man. He was too nervous for his own good. Who on earth had ever thought of making him the headmaster?

As the weeks went by, and Tom did more reading on horcruxes and immortality in general, he became more obsessed with the idea of becoming invincible. It would be his ultimate mission…the key to becoming the most powerful sorcerer in the world…the key to overcoming pathetic Dumbledore. But it would take a lot of planning and a lot more preparing. And he would have to find a clever way to investigate the weird marks on his arm.

At least Dumbledore had stopped calling Tom into his office for stupid little meetings where he could interrogate him for information. Those meetings always made Tom feel uneasy, which he hated. Now that Dumbledore rarely ever bothered him, he felt more comfortable in his own skin and could go about his day-to-day activities without the stress of dealing with Dumbledore. In class, Tom was as invisible as ever, though he sat at the very front. He thought it best not to draw much attention to himself, and so he kept quiet.

Tom's professors were most pleased with him that year. They had always been very impressed with him, though this year they emphasized it more, if it were at all possible. Professor Flitwick squeaked with excitement every time Tom walked into his classroom. Professor Beery marveled at Tom winning that award last year. Professor Merrythought continued to award Slytherin House points every time Tom answered a question correctly, which was pretty much every class. And Professor Slughorn…he adored Tom as though he was his own son. He went on and on about Tom to anyone who would listen. He often went completely speechless when Tom perfectly recited complex recipes for complex potions. It all became too much for him and on a cool November day, after class, he called Tom to stay behind.

"Is everything alright, professor?" asked Tom as the class filed out of the room.

"Oh yes, yes, everything is splendid, my boy!" exclaimed Slughorn. "I was just wondering… you see, I don't know if you've heard but I am quite famous for my special parties. They call it the Slug Club."

He chuckled to himself and then stopped to stare at Tom.

"Of course I've heard of them, professor," lied Tom.

"Yes," said Slughorn, smiling again. "Well, I was wondering if you would like to come along next time I throw a gathering. And bring Lestrange and Rowle too. Oh, and Avery. I do like him. I only invite the special ones, you see…the ones who show potential to become something great. It's exclusive invitations only. And you, my boy, well I find it needless to say that you will go very far in life."

"I would consider it as an honour sir," said Tom, who beamed up at the professor, "To attend your club meetings."

"Splendid!" exclaimed Slughorn. "Well, look for my owl, I guess."

"Will do," said Tom.

Out in the hall, he thought long and hard about why he had just agreed to that. It would look good in front of Dumbledore, yes. But it would also be a bloody waste of his time. But you're not going anywhere anytime soon, a voice told him. You have all the time in the world!

"True," said Tom aloud as he made his way to his next class.

His main missions in life were to master invincibility and become the most powerful sorcerer in the world…to overpower Dumbledore…and to master death itself. He had the rest of all eternity.