Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all rights to it belong strictly to J.K Rowling.

I am simply having fun with my imagination.

...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...?

CHAPTER 19: HORCRUXES

The next couple of weeks, Tom spent every possible minute watching Professor Slughorn carefully. He watched his every move, listened to every word he uttered, and stored it all into the massive tank of knowledge that was his brain. He even followed him around sometimes, eavesdropping on his conversations with other students or fellow staff members. Slughorn spent a great deal of time trailing after little Professor Flitwick, who, Tom noticed, really did not find this amusing. He often dodged Slughorn whenever he could and darted off to Hogsmeade or to have a chat with Dumbledore.

"…Ah yes, pineapples! My favourite kind!" Slughorn beamed at Professor Kettleburn one day outside of Greenhouse 4.

"Yes, yes, well professor, I'm afraid I really must get going…classes to teach, you know," said Kettleburn, hurrying off into the greenhouse.

"That's quite alright, we'll finish this at dinner then!" Slughorn called after him.

"Horace!"

Slughorn turned around to see Dumbledore approaching him. Tom hid behind a wall but continued to eavesdrop.

"I heard that you added another member to your club," said Dumbledore. "A Ravenclaw girl by the name of—"

"Phyllis Porpington, yes," said Slughorn, who was positively beaming up at Dumbledore. "A 7th year."

"Yes, well that's my concern," said Dumbledore.

"What is?"

"She's in Ravenclaw!"

"And?"

"Horace, you have students from Slytherin, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw but none from Gryffindor. We can't be discriminating, now can we?"

Slughorn frowned.

"We must show a good example," continued Dumbledore, "You know, for the students of course."

"Yes, yes, I understand," said Slughorn. "It was unintentional of course, Albus. I only meant to select students in whom I saw great potential to become something great, you know. I didn't even think about which houses they were in when I chose them."

"I'm sure you didn't, Horace, but it's the way it looks that concerns me."

"Very well, Dumbledore, I will keep an eye out for a special Gryffindor."

Dumbledore sighed heavily and walked away from Slughorn, who began muttering to himself as he exited the hall.

The next day, Tom made his way to Slughorn's office alone, clutching a box of crystallised pineapple he brought along for after dinner. As he walked out of the dungeons late in the evening, the Bloody Baron floated by him and said,

"Off to make trouble again, are we, sir?"

"Shut up," said Tom, darkly.

He, Tom, had spent a great deal of time observing Slughorn and felt that he was ready for this. He put on his best robes for the occasion and fixed his hair perfectly. He caught sight of his appearance in a mirror in Slughorn's office and winced slightly. He really was the spitting image of his father. How frightening.

"Come on, sir, let's eat!" said Lestrange after everyone had arrived.

The boys, along with Ms. Porpington, two 7th year male additions from Slytherin, the odd 5th year from Hufflepuff, and, to Tom's horror, a new Gryffindor addition—Jonathan Buckley—took their seats along the square table in the middle of the room. Slughorn seated himself at the head and Tom sat not too far from him.

They dined on shepherd's pie that night and discussed house elves, goblins, and other half-breeds. Tom mostly kept quiet and watched Slughorn, laughing at all his jokes and smiling whenever he met his eye. Buckley didn't seem to be enjoying himself much for he mostly kept quiet as well, and took particular care in avoiding Tom's gaze. When they'd finally reached dessert, Tom pulled out the pineapple box and Slughorn was completely taken aback at the sight of it. He lowered his wine glass and beamed at Tom. Buckley made a sound that was somewhere between a snort and a cough.

"Come now, boys, let's play nicely," said Slughorn, noticing this. "I understand of course, Mr. Buckley, why you don't want to speak to Mr. Nott. But it was all good fun, you know. Besides, you both have shown me that you possess fabulous magical talents and what better way to show that than to stun someone?"

Buckley glared at Slughorn but said nothing.

The conversations went on for hours and before long, it was 20 to eleven. Though, Tom was the only one to notice for a while. Everyone else were enjoying themselves too much to even glance at the clock.

"Sir," Tom finally said, interrupting a scandalous story that Avery had been telling about the residents of Hogsmeade. "You're having a good term, yes?"

"Of course, Tom, of course!" said Slughorn, raising his glass to take a sip. "Lovely students this year. Lovely students indeed."

"Sir," said Tom again, keeping his voice cool and casual. "Is it true that Professor Merrythought is retiring?"

"Tom, Tom, if I knew I couldn't tell you!" said Slughorn, who was now rummaging in the box of crystallised pineapple. For a split second, Tom thought he saw Slughorn wink at him. "I must say, I'd like to know where you get your information, boy. More knowledgeable than half the staff, you are."

Tom gave him a small smile while the others, apart from Buckley and Porpington, laughed approvingly.

"…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 favourite—" The other boys chuckled again. "—I confidently expect you to rise to Minister of Magic within twenty years."

There was laughter again, coming this time from the two 7th year Slytherin boys more than anyone else. They seemed to be eyeing Tom rather admiringly, though Tom barely noticed. He was still watching Slughorn carefully.

"I don't know that politics would suit me, sir," Tom finally said when the laughter had died away. "I don't have the right kind of background, for one thing."

Lestrange, Rowle, Avery, and Nott howled with laughter and the others joined in as well, though they didn't know the exact reason why this was so funny.

"Nonesense," said Slughorn briskly, "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. I told you, I'd bet any number of galleons on it, haven't I?"

The small golden clock standing upon his desk chimed eleven o'clock behind him and he looked around.

"Good gracious, is it that time already? You'd better get going boys, or we'll all be in trouble. Lestrange, I want your essay in by tomorrow or it's detention. Same goes for you, Avery."

One by one, the boys filed out of the room. Tom gave them the signal which meant "Don't wait up," and himself approached a table in the corner of the office and began to examine an hourglass that stood perched up on it. It was a while before Slughorn noticed Tom's presence in the room, and he did a sort of double-take and hiccupped, still holding his wine glass in his hand.

"You look sharp, Tom," said Slughorn, casually. "You don't want to be caught out of bed at this late hour…"

Tom smiled at him.

"Something on your mind, Tom?"

"Yes, sir," said Tom, coolly. "I was wondering if I could ask you something."

"Ask away then, m'boy, ask away!" said Slughorn, brightly.

"Well you see, sir, I was in the library the other night… in the restricted section, and I read something rather odd about a bit of rare magic," Tom began to slowly circle around the room, keeping his hands behind his back so that Slughorn wouldn't notice Marvolo's gleaming black-stoned ring on his hand.

"Go on," said Slughorn, warily.

"It's called, as I understand it…a horcrux."

"I…I…b-beg y-your p-p-p-pardon?" said Slughorn, his eyes widening with shock, his jaw dropping.

"Horcrux," Tom repeated simply. "You see, I…I came across the term while r-reading and I didn't f-fully…understand it."

Tom thought that adding a bit of stuttering would make him appear more convincing...vulnerable and hesitant.

Slughorn stared at him, his thick fingers absentmindedly clawing the stem of his wine glass.

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

Right, thought Tom. You know why I'm asking, don't pretend, old man.

Nonetheless, he answered, "Not exactly, sir. I just came across the term accidentally."

"No…well….I'm not sure what it is that you're reading, Tom, this is very dark stuff, very dark indeed."

Tom concentrated hard on keeping his tone flattery but casual when he spoke. He had been working toward this moment for weeks, and would not leave this office without the information that he so desperately desired.

"Which is why I came to you," he finally said, giving Slughorn a small but complimentary smile.

"W-well," said Slughorn, avoiding Tom's gaze but fiddling with the ribbon on top of his box of crystallised pineapple, "A Horcrux is an object in which a person has concealed a part of their soul."

"But I don't understand how that works, sir," said Tom, slowly.

He worked very hard to control his voice, trying to suppress the excitement that was rising up in his chest. He would first give Slughorn a chance to explain the concept, so as not to make it seem like he, Tom, already knew all about it, or better yet, had had some experience with it.

"O-one splits one's soul and h-hides a part of it in a-an object," said Slughorn, whose wine glass began to slightly shake in his trembling hand. "By doing so, you are protected, should you reattach and your body be destroyed."

"Protected?" Tom repeated, moving closer to where Slughorn was standing.

"T-the p-part of your s-soul that is h-hidden lives on-n," said Slughorn, slowly. "In other words, you c-cannot die."

Tom tried hard to suppress the glint of red light that he could feel cross his eyes. He moved away from Slughorn and turned to face the fireplace instead.

"But how does one split his soul, sir?" asked Tom casually. He was getting closer to the question he really wanted to ask but knew he couldn't simply blurt it out. He had to work and build up to it. He began to absentmindedly stroke Marvolo's ring on his finger as he stared out into the flames.

"I think you already know the answer to that one, Tom," said Slughorn, warily.

"Murder," said Tom into the flames, his back still to Slughorn. He began to stroke the faint scratches that were now on both his arms.

"Y-yes," said Slughorn, not noticing this. "Killing rips the soul apart. 'Tis a violation against nature."

Tom couldn't help but notice that Slughorn spoke the last 5 words with greater emphasis.

"What I don't understand though," said Tom, turning to look at Slughorn. "Just out of curiosity—I mean, would one Horcrux be much use? Can you only split your soul once? Wouldn't it be better, make you stronger, to have your soul in more pieces, I mean, for instance, isn't seven the most powerfully magical number, wouldn't seven—?"

"Seven!" yelped Slughorn. "Merlin's beard, Tom! Isn't it bad enough to think of killing one person? And in any case…bad enough to divide the soul…but to rip it into seven pieces!..."

Slughorn looked deeply troubled now. He was gazing at Tom as though he had never seen him plainly before. He looked to be regretting entering into the conversation at all. But Tom wasn't finished yet. He just needed one more piece of information out of Slughorn before he could let him go.

"Sir," said Tom quickly before Slughorn could say another word. "Sir, if… if one splits one's soul, d-does…does it perhaps leave a mark?"

"Why, of course!" said Slughorn, looking very uncomfortable now. "It's the soul we're talking about here. Of course it would leave a mark."

"But you said you'd be protected though, wouldn't you?"

"In the soul sense, yes," said Slughorn. "You…your physical appearance may change…it may decay in some ways and it may strengthen in others. But your soul will be the strong point. You do understand that killing is a violation of nature, yes? Therefore the price that the killer pays in this case is a physical transformation. The more Horcruxes they make, the more they transform."

"But it is harmless?" Tom pressed on.

"Yes, it's—" Slughorn froze. Tom realized in that instant that he had reached the limit. "Of course…this is all hypothetical, what we're discussing, isn't it? All academic…"

"Yes, sir, of course," said Tom quickly.

"And all the same, Tom…keep it quiet, what I've told—that's to say, what we've discussed. People wouldn't like to think we've been chatting about...Horcruxes. It's a banned subject at Hogwarts, you know…Dumbledore's particularly fierce about it…"

"I won't say a word, sir," Tom assured him. He made to leave, but then turned around at the door and glanced at Slughorn one last time.

"It'll be our little secret."

The red gleam was back in his eyes.