Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all rights to it belong strictly to J.K Rowling.
I am simply having fun with my imagination!
...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...
CHAPTER 18: THE SLUG CLUB
December swooped in and brought with it a strong wave of cold air. The students woke on the first Saturday to several feet of snow that had fallen overnight. The enchanted ceiling in the Great Hall was also bright and snowy. Professor Flitwick was already beginning to decorate the castle with Christmas decorations. Spirits were positive all around.
Tom grew more obsessed with immortality as the days went by. It was all he thought about and sometimes he stayed up all night because of it.
He began hosting Death Eater meetings that month and Lestrange was thrilled. Though, they held them later and later into the night for each time, there was at least one Slytherin who'd stayed behind in the common room while everyone else went to bed. Tom knew he'd need to find a new meeting spot soon. Maybe they'd return to their old days in the Trophy Room.
Classes proceeded as usual, though the workload this year was much heavier than Tom cared to admit. He found himself studying more than he'd ever done before, which left him with very little time to think about horcruxes or the unknown dangers of making them. He rotated Marvolo's ring around his left middle finger. The black stone gleamed in the candlelight. It was so beautiful.
On his next Death Eater meeting, Tom sat everyone down and they waited for him to speak. They had of course noticed the ring on his finger before and had kindly questioned him about where he'd gotten it, but he refused to give any of them the truth and therefore dismissed all of these questions.
"Professor Slughorn has informed me that he would like me to join his club," Tom announced.
The Death Eaters exchanged looks with each other and then quickly turned to him again.
"That includes you, Rowle," Tom added. "And you too, Lestrange."
"R-really?" said Lestrange, frowning. "H-he wants…us?"
"Yes," said Tom, turning to Avery. "You as well."
Avery said nothing.
"What should we do?" asked Rowle, darkly.
"We will attend his meetings," said Tom. "We will attend each and every one and we will make ourselves presentable and respectful. Understood?"
"Y-yes, sir," said Rowle and Lestrange together. The others shifted uncomfortably in their seats.
"Right," said Tom, glancing at Avery who looked very grim and gaunt.
"Is that it then, sir?" said Rosier, who stifled a yawn quite unconvincingly. The watch on his wrist read 2:30 in the morning.
"Not quite," said Tom, coolly. "I have a concern I wish to voice."
No one said a word. All eyes were on Tom and all ears were listening intently.
"I do not like my name," said Tom, slowly.
There was a long pause.
"W-what d-do you m-mean, s-s-sir?" said Selwynn, quietly.
"I do not like my name," Tom repeated. "Tom Riddle. It is very unoriginal and peculiar."
"What should we do then, sir?" said Lestrange. "Would you like us to call you something else?"
"Even though, we already do, sir," added Rosier.
"Yeah, I don't think we've ever called you by your name, sir," nodded Lestrange.
"I understand," said Tom. "But our relationship has grown and matured over the years. And you have all proven your worth to me. We are no longer simply acquaintances or just friends. We are family. You listen to me and I take care of you. And therefore, you can be a little less formal with me from now on."
The Death Eaters exchanged smiles of relief.
"What should we call you then?" said Selwynn, who looked less pale now than he had a minute ago.
Tom waited for a long time. He stared around at his Death Eaters, examining the perplexed features of each pale face. He surveyed them for what felt like hours. And then, finally, very, very quietly, he said "Lord Voldemort."
There was another long pause.
"Wicked," whispered Rowle.
Selwynn nodded vigorously.
"My lord is also acceptable," said Tom casually. "But you may continue to call me sir, if you wish."
"When did you come up with such a name, m-my lord?" said Davis.
"A long time ago," said Tom. "You all just weren't ready for it yet. But you are now."
"What's changed?" said Rosier. "My lord," he quickly added as Tom turned to look at him.
"My Death Eaters have proven their loyalty to me," said Tom, smiling slightly.
The others smiled as well.
"I plan to go public with this name one day," Tom continued. "I am going to rise up in the wizarding world. Voldemort is going to be a name that children will one day fear to speak. Adults too, perhaps. Depending on how far I go. But I plan to go far. Oh, very far. I plan to go farther than any dark wizard has ever gone in history. And if you stick by me, which you will, I promise you great power, beyond any of your imaginations."
The Death Eaters beamed at him.
"We are forever at your service, my lord."
It was not Lestrange or Rowle who spoke up. It was Avery. And for the first time since Tom had known him, Avery looked him in the eye and did not stutter.
"So what have you been up to these days, Lestrange?" said Professor Slughorn as he bit into his turkey leg.
"I've been reading about the High Wizard Court, sir," said Lestrange casually.
"Ah yes, the Wizengamot," said Slughorn. "If I'm not mistaken, it predates the Ministry of Magic itself!"
"Does it?" said Rowle, who was stirring his rice with some vegetables.
"Oh yes, indeed," said Slughorn. "It has been in activity since at least 1544, I believe."
"You know so much about the wizarding world, sir," said Tom, who spoke up for the first time that evening.
The four of them were dining in Slughorn's office for their 4th Slug Club meeting, along with another fellow Slytherin that Slughorn had invited along—Nott. Tom had noticed him around the common room but had never taken interest in recruiting him. Though, Nott looked like he didn't have anything else in his life. Then again, so did everyone else in this castle.
"Well, I try to keep up with my news," said Slughorn, who beamed at Tom's compliment. "But you know, an interesting fact for you…the very first Minister of Magic, a Mr. Gamp, was also Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. Interesting, eh?"
"Very, sir," said Lestrange, who sipped from his glass.
"Why, are you interested in working at the ministry, Lestrange?" said Slughorn, sitting back in his chair.
"Yes, sir," said Lestrange. "My father works in the ministry."
"You don't say!" said Slughorn, looking impressed. "Where in?"
"The Department of Magical Law Enforcement, sir," said Lestrange, looking very proud.
"Ah wow!" said Slughorn. "I had no idea! Well my boy, if you decide to go down that path too, you will rise very high. Oh, yes indeed."
"Thank you, sir," said Lestrange, bowing his head once to Slughorn.
Beaming, Slughorn turned to look at Tom.
"What about you, Tom? What are your aspirations? Any career goals? Any path that seems to have a...a grip on you?"
Avery smiled down at his plate. He caught Tom's eye and they exchanged a very quick smile.
"I haven't thought much about it yet, sir," said Tom, coolly.
"Ah no worries," said Slughorn. "You have shown an aptitude for pretty much every subject at this school. All doors are open to you. You, my boy, will rise higher than any of us will ever in this lifetime. That is a guarantee! I would bet any money on it."
"Thank you, professor," said Tom, smiling slightly. "You are too kind."
"My pleasure!" hiccupped Slughorn. "Now boys, I think it is time you went to bed. 'Till the next meeting, then!"
"Goodnight professor," they said in unison and they slowly filed out of his office and headed back towards the dungeons.
"Hold it," said Tom, stopping Nott in the corridor. Nott turned to look at him. "I've seen you around. You are a seventh year."
"Yes," said Nott.
"You don't do much, do you? Why did Slughorn invite you into his club?"
"I can stun well," answered Nott. "He saw me stun Jonathan Buckley last week. I thought he was going to give me detention but instead-"
"Of Gryffindor?" said Tom, raising an eyebrow, excitement filling up in his chest.
"Yes," said Nott, warily. He paused. "I've seen you and your mates sneaking off sometimes. You don't notice me because I sit in the shadows of the common room. I don't ever go to sleep with everyone else. I like it best when the common room is deserted and quiet. Anyway, what do you lot do when you go out?"
"Things," answered Tom, who suddenly became very interested in Nott's character and saw great potential. "Come and see for yourself, if you'd like," he added. "Next Saturday at 1 o'clock at night."
"Will do," said Nott, bowing his head once.
He left Tom, Lestrange, Avery and Rowle standing in the corridor, open-mouthed.
"Is it safe to say…m-my lord?" said Lestrange, quietly.
"Oh yes," said Tom, coolly. "We have a new addition to our ranks."
Nott turned out to be Tom's favourite one yet. He was very enthusiastic about Tom's plans for the future and shared his beliefs on Mudbloods and Muggles. He too, wished to rise up in the world, though he admitted that he needed guidance for he wasn't sure where to start or how. But the fact that Tom was a year younger than him did not seem to intimidate him one bit.
"How did you do on your OWLs?" Tom asked him casually as Nott walked him to Defense Against the Dark Arts on the last day before the holidays.
"Pretty well," said Nott.
"I'm going to need more information than that," said Tom.
Nott gave him a questionable look.
"Your OWL results will tell me how serious you are about things that are important and how dedicated and committed you can be," Tom explained lazily.
"I got 6 Outstandings and 3 Exceeds Expectations," answered Nott.
"Not bad," said Tom, stopping by the classroom. "I'll see you at lunch."
"Yes, sir," said Nott. Tom made to enter the classroom but stopped dead in the doorway.
Professor Dumbledore was standing at the head of the class. Tom caused heavy traffic to collide in the hall. Students peered over heads to see what was going on.
"Well, come in, Tom," said Dumbledore.
"What...what are you doing here, professor?" said Tom, in a kindness that did not seem to fool Dumbledore. Nevertheless, he continued smiling at Tom.
"Unfortunately, Professor Merrythought is feeling a bit under the weather, so I will be taking over today's lesson," answered Dumbledore. "Come in, come in."
Tom moved forwards and took his seat, the others following closely behind.
"Today," said Dumbledore brightly. "We will be discussing Dementors."
"What are those?" said a Hufflepuff girl whom Tom did not recognize.
"Dementors are the most foulest creatures to walk this earth," said Dumbledore. "They feed on every good feeling-every happy memory, until the victim is left with nothing but their worst experiences. They can consume a person's soul, leaving their victims in a permanent vegetative state."
"What does that mean?" said another nervous girl, this time from Slytherin.
"It means, Ms. Kensington, that the person is left living as an empty shell...soulless, in other words."
"Blimey!" cried a Hufflepuff boy. "That's awful!"
"But luckily," said Dumbledore, "A charm exists that can repel Dementors. It is very complicated to learn and there are many grown wizards who have never learned it themselves. I doubt many of you will be able to learn it at this age, therefore we will study it theoretically. However, if you wish to learn it practically, I am sure Professor Merrythought would be happy to give you private lessons."
"The Patronus Charm," Tom spoke up.
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow.
"You know it?"
"Yes, sir," said Tom. "I've read about them."
"Well?" said Dumbledore. "Indulge us in your knowledge, Mr. Riddle."
Tom, who was a little surprised at hearing Dumbledore address him as 'Mr. Riddle', cleared his throat.
"A Patronus charm acts like a sort of shield, not killing the Dementor but simply driving it away. The Patronus is the magical manifestation of good will and happiness and provides varied levels of protection against the Dementor's influence, based on the castor's strength as a wizard."
"Well said," said Dumbledore, simply.
Tom did not mention how beautiful he thought Dementors were and how he hoped to one day work with them.
Dumbledore continued on with the lesson, without another word to Tom. Tom sensed that Dumbledore was angry with him about something. . . there was no need for him to ask what. He knew perfectly well that Dumbledore strongly suspected that Tom had framed poor Hagrid. He would have to be even more careful from now on.
After the lesson, a Hufflepuff boy accidentally knocked over the table, causing Tom's books to fly everywhere. He bent down to help him pick them up, but Tom gave him one of his frightening death-stares that made the boy stumble backwards. He jumped to his feet and ran out of the room, joining his friends. Dumbledore had already left too as his transfiguration classroom was on the other side of the castle.
"You go on," Tom told Lestrange who stood nearby, waiting. "I'll catch you up."
"Yes, my lord," said Lestrange and he exited the room, leaving Tom alone in the classroom.
As he picked up the last of his books, he caught two voices whispering out in the corridor. Slowly rising to his feet, Tom crept across the classroom and pressed his ear against the door.
"...I'm just sorry I have to replace her," said Dippet's tired voice.
"Yes, it's a shame," said Dumbledore. "She's a very good teacher."
"Very good," agreed Dippet. "But old age comes with fatigue and I suppose she's been here for a long time...Merrythought."
"Yes," said Dumbledore. "Any idea on when you'll start looking for a replacement?"
"Ah I don't want to worry about that just yet," said Dippet.
"Well, best not delay it too long," said Dumbledore and their footsteps began to descend from the hall.
"Of course not!" said Dippet's now faded, but slightly agitated voice.
Tom stayed in the deserted classroom for a long time, going over what he'd just heard. There was going to be a new teacher for Defense Against the Dark Arts. He wasn't sure how he felt about this. He'd never told anyone this, but he'd often thought about teaching the subject himself. If Dippet found a new teacher next year, Tom doubted he'd be able to get the post just the following year. It would be better for him if Merrythought retired after he graduated, so that he, Tom, could replace her instead.
Tom instructed his Death Eaters to go home for the holidays again that year. And so, once again, he was the only Slytherin to stay at school. Only a handful of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs had stayed, and no Gryffindors at all.
Dumbledore avoided Tom all throughout the break, which Tom preferred as opposed to the interrogations in previous years. He knew Dumbledore didn't like him, and he didn't like Dumbledore either. Dippet, on the other hand, marveled at Tom every time he crossed his path, as did Professor Slughorn. In fact, Slughorn's affection for Tom only seemed to increase as the days went by. This gave Tom a rather odd idea. As he sat down for Christmas dinner with the teachers and listened to Professor Slughorn go on about the four founders of Hogwarts and everything that he knew about them, Tom thought long and hard about his idea. Of course! Why hadn't it crossed his mind before? Slughorn was the ideal person to go to about this. He was in Slytherin and he seemed to know a fair bit about magic. Surely he would know about Dark Arts as well. And he really seemed to like Tom. And he was easily manipulated. But it would have to be carefully planned. Very carefully planned.
After Christmas dinner, Tom decided to take another long walk about the castle. He hadn't done that in what felt like a long time. He walked around the Trophy Room, the Prefects bathroom on the fifth floor, the girls bathroom where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets was, and all the way to the seventh floor. He strode slowly along the corridors, thinking about horcruxes and immortality. He needed to find a place where he would be able to hide his horcruxes and no one would be able to find them. He needed to find out the full effects of making more than one horcrux and if it was dangerous to do so. But most importantly, he needed to find a place where his horcruxes would be safe to keep.
And then, just as Tom thought about this, he heard a very low sound. He froze and spun around, looking for the source of it. A door seemed to be materialising on the wall across from the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. The door opened with a little clang and Tom peered inside. There was a large room that Tom had never seen before, but he knew exactly what it was. He'd read about it in Hogwarts: A History, but hadn't ever dreamed of finding it, as it was simply unplottable. The Room of Requirement, also known as the Come and Go Room. The place where everything is hidden. Tom glanced around at the piles of junk hidden by generations upon generations of Hogwarts students. There were piles upon piles of books and large cages with weird-legged creatures and old furniture that was broken and useless and old school robes as well. Flying catapults, Fanged Frisbees, rusting swords and bloodstained axes...a couple of broomsticks, various trophies, metalware, a skipping record turnable, some portrait frames, and disassembled suits of armour. Anything and everything you could dream of. It was all hidden in there.
A powerful wave of joy, such that he had not felt since he killed his father, swept over Tom.
"He will be inviting us for the next party the week after next," Tom informed Lestrange, Rowle, Nott, and Avery at the next Death Eater meeting after the Christmas holidays. They nodded in understanding.
"W-what do you all discuss at these meetings, my lord?" said Rosier.
"All sorts of things," answered Tom, lazily. "Anyway, you're doing an excellent job, Lestrange...kissing up to him like that. Keep it up. Rowle, Avery, you could step it up a bit."
"Yes, my lord," said Rowle and Avery together.
There was a pause.
"He thinks I should go into the Ministry of Magic," laughed Tom. The others chuckled along with him.
"I almost choked on my juice when I heard him say that," admitted Lestrange.
"Me too!" laughed Avery, who had miraculously gotten over his stuttering problem when around Tom.
"Yes, well if only poor old Slughorn knew that I am Slytherin's descendant," said Tom, thoughtfully.
"I bet he'd pee himself," said Rowle.
The boys laughed hard for a couple of long minutes. Tom thought about it as they laughed. It was rather comical. What would dear old Slughorn think, if he found out that everyday, the Great Salazar Slytherin's last remaining descendent and heir was sitting right next to him?