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"...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...

CHAPTER 20: POST HOGWARTS

Tom's seventh year at Hogwarts had to have been his best one. First and foremost, he did not have to return to Wool's Orphanage just before starting his last year. He spent his holiday break amidst the wizarding world and therefore could not have asked for a better summer. Second, his seventh year seemed to be his shining golden moment. He was made Head Boy and received a Medal for Magical Merit. He passed his apparition test with flawless efforts. His teachers declared that he had been the best Hogwarts student they'd seen in years. Even Dippet publicly announced that he was sad to see Tom go. Tom however, had other plans.

It just so happened to be that Professor Merrythought had decided to stay for Tom's last year. Now that she really was retiring, and Dippet was in search for a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Tom was ready to step in. With his perfect student record, countless achievements, and excellent reputation at school, he knew it would be almost too easy to convince Dippet to give him the job. He, Tom, was after all the very best for the job. He knew the Dark Arts like the back of his hand, and went further than any other student in the school had…perhaps, even further than Dumbledore had at his age.

Tom did not forget about his mission to achieve full immortality. After that conversation that he'd had with Slughorn the previous year, he relaxed a bit about the faint scratches on his arm and as a result, they stopped hurting. He now knew that he was perfectly safe to continue with his path and that nothing and no one could stop him. Though, Slughorn had grown very anxious around Tom after that night. For one, he'd stopped hosting Slug Club meetings. And second, he stopped marvelling at Tom's successes and even greeted him rarely. He avoided him in the halls and sometimes pretended that he could not hear Tom answering a question.

During the Easter break, while NEWT students were busy revising for the upcoming exams, Tom sought down a particular ghost with whom he'd been meaning to speak for months. He had spent most of the year searching through books for historical artefacts that he would be able to use for his next horcruxes, and one particular object had caught his attention.

Helena Ravenclaw was floating about a deserted corridor on the seventh floor, not too far from the entrance to the Room of Requirement, which Tom was certain only he knew about. Helena stopped at the sight of him, looking very frightened. Tom approached her coolly, with his hands in his cloak pockets. He was gripping his wand tightly.

"Hello," he said to the ghost. "Lovely day, isn't it?"

"Yes," said Helena, warily. "Lovely."

"I've actually come here to talk to you, Helena," said Tom.

"What about?" said Helena, nervously. When Tom didn't answer, she pressed on. "What do you want with me?"

"I seek your mother's diadem," Tom declared confidently.

Helena gasped at the mention of it.

"It's missing," she spat. "It's gone! I don't know anything about it!"

"Oh yes you do," said Tom, smiling slightly.

"No I don't!" cried Helena. "Besides, it doesn't belong to…I mean, it… it's been missing for centuries now! There is no one out there who knows its location!"

"But you do," said Tom, coolly.

Helena froze in the air.

"What do you want with it?" she said quietly after a moment's silence.

"I simply want to see it," said Tom. "And then I will hide it right back where it was so that no one can find it."

"How can I trust that you will do this?" said Helena in an even smaller voice.

"Do you know who I am, Helena?" said Tom, who now took a step towards the ghost.

"Of course I know!" she cried. "Everyone in the school knows you."

"Well then you have nothing to worry about!" said Tom, brightly. "I won't do anything to it. I'm just very curious about old wizarding artefacts."

Helena did not speak for a while.

"You know," continued Tom. "I'm going to tell you a little secret…to show you that I trust you. Perhaps then, you will see that you can trust me as well?"

He gave her a small grin which made the ghost relax a bit.

"My mother's name was Gaunt," said Tom, quietly.

Helena's jaw dropped. She knew exactly what this meant.

"You—you're…"

"That's right," said Tom. "I am the last remaining descendant of the Great Salazar Slytherin…your mother's old companion."

"You can't be," she whispered.

"But I am," said Tom. "And I have never told anyone this. It is my little secret…something that I'm very proud of. But I trust you, Helena. I trust you to keep my secret."

Helena gave Tom a small smile.

"But what do you want with my mother's diadem?" she whispered.

Tom took another step towards her.

"I told you, I just want to see it. That is all that interests me. Your family interests me very much. You interest me…very…much."

Helena's smile broadened.

And then, to Tom's delight, she came closer and quickly whispered the exact directions to finding the Lost Diadem of Ravenclaw. Tom whispered in her ear that he wished she were alive so that he could show her how grateful he was that she'd helped him. This only made her beam even more at him.

Finally, graduation arrived. On that very night, after the celebrations of the Hogwarts Alumni, Tom approached Dippet's office to have the talk he had been planning for all year. Dippet was quite surprised to see Tom at his doorstep. They sat at the desk and exchanged a few words about the celebrations over tea and biscuits. Then, Tom dived right into the reason why he was there, while Dippet listened without interrupting. He didn't seem at all surprised by what Tom was requesting. Tom strongly suspected that Dumbledore must have warned him. Though, it amazed him how Dumbledore could possibly know about his plans.

"Feeling scared of letting go, are we?" said Dippet, who was smiling at Tom from across the desk after Tom had finished talking.

"Sir?" said Tom, frowning slightly.

"It's only natural to be afraid to leave the place that has been your home for so long. Graduation is a scary thing. But you have so many doors open for you. Surely you want to go and explore—?"

"No sir, that's not it at all," said Tom quickly. "I've just always loved this particular subject and I thought, since Professor Merrythought is retiring, that maybe I ought to give it a go."

Dippet considered Tom for a moment.

"I mean," Tom went on, "You've known me for a long time. It's not as if I'm a complete stranger. You know who I am and how I am."

"That is true," said Dippet.

"It certainly saves you time trying to figure out a complete stranger and whether or not they'll be a good teacher."

"Yes, it does," said Dippet, who was now looking down at his fingers on the table.

"I feel like I've learned a lot from Professor Merrythought," Tom continued. "And I know that I could do this job well. And…sir, I…I really want it. I really do."

Dippet met his eyes and smiled at him.

"I am touched by your words, Tom, I really am. And I know you are a very dedicated wizard and would commit to anything. However...I'm afraid, and it is with great regret that I tell you this, believe me...but I'm afraid I must decline your request at this time."

He gave Tom another smile, though he looked more tired now than before.

"May I ask why, sir?" said Tom, who could feel his voice slightly trembling. He covered it up with a cough and then straightened up in his seat again, trying hard to suppress the burning hatred he felt for Dumbledore.

"Well you see, Tom, teaching at Hogwarts is no piece of cake. I'm sure you've noticed that most of the teachers here are of far greater age than you are, Tom."

"Yes," said Tom, who found that controlling his voice at that moment was easier said than done.

"Well, seventeen is a bit young to start teaching, don't you think?"

"I don't think age should have anything to do with it, sir," said Tom, defiantly.

"No, of course experience and knowledge are the most important qualities I look for in any job applicant," said Dippet, quickly. "But I still stand by my decision. You have only just graduated, Tom! Go out there and live a little bit! You may of course return in a few years' time and reapply. I will be more than happy to consider you. But I think that for now, you are still too young and naïve to know what you really want from life. Do you understand what I'm getting at, Tom?"

"I think I do, sir," said Tom, trying hard to suppress his frustration with the headmaster.

"Good," smiled Dippet. "I'm sure we will meet again soon."

Tom thought that if there were a time he hated Dumbledore more than in that moment, he could not remember it. He walked the castle corridors silently, ignoring the loud cheers from the Hogwarts alumni who were congratulating each other on their successes. Over by the dungeons, the Death Eaters were waiting for him.

"Well?" they said as he approached them. Tom shook his head, his hands still in his pockets of his dress robes.

"Blimey," said Lestrange, looking perplexed. "I was so sure—"

"Don't worry about it," Tom told him. "I will reapply in a few years' time. Anyway, are you packed?"

"Yep," said Lestrange quickly. "We all are."

"Good," said Tom, looking around at his Death Eaters. They had all grown so much. He could remember a time when stuttering Avery pressed him to play Exploding Snap in the Slytherin Common Room. He could remember all of their initiation tests…the Hogsmeade incidents and all the Trophy Room meetings as though they were only yesterday. And there was so much ahead of them. Tom could feel it.

"I suppose this is it then," said Davis.

"Yes, it is," said Tom, coolly.

The Death Eaters exchanged a few looks.

"Not for us, though," Tom added. "This is only just the beginning of the rest of our lives. We have a lot coming for us. You'll see soon enough."

"My Lord Voldemort," said Selwynn, quietly. "I don't think I've ever told you how…grateful…I am…for your kindness and your wisdom all these years."

"Stop it," said Tom. "This is not goodbye, my Death Eaters. This is only temporary farewell. I feel sure we will meet again sooner than you expect. Until then, remember your loyalties and remember: We are each other's only family."

The next couple of years flew on by. It had taken Tom some time to find the exact spot in the Albanian forest that Helena Ravenclaw had described, but once he found it, the diadem was in clear view. Wasting no time, he killed the first peasant he could find, an old Muggle man, and performed the complicated procedure. He then returned to his room in Knockturn Alley and hid the diadem underneath one of the floorboards, where his diary was also hidden. To this day, he still wore Marvolo's ring for it was so small he didn't want it accidentally getting lost. He continued with his search for a place to hide it.

Over the years, the Ministry of Magic had contacted Tom several times with various job offers. The last he'd heard, Lestrange was working in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, as Slughorn had predicted all those years ago. However, Tom turned down these jobs and instead accepted Caractacus Burke's job offer to persuade witches and wizards to part with their valuable magical heirlooms. Everyone Tom knew was quite surprised to find out where he was working. They thoroughly questioned him about it every time he bumped into them, but he merely shrugged and explained that the job was very good.

He did not contact his Death Eaters for a long time. He had told them to spend these few years of silence trying to rise up in the Wizarding World…to gain good contacts and to get so-called prestigious jobs. He knew that one day, this would be very useful. But for now, he needed this time off to continue his search for more potential horcruxes and hiding places.

Not long after Tom had tracked down the Lost Diadem of Ravenclaw, his right arm began to show faint marks like the ones on his left arm. But, no longer worried, Tom continued down this path, eager to conquer immortality. Living above Borgin and Burke's, he took it upon himself to read each and every one of the books the shop sold. He even started practicing legiliments on old Borgin, though Borgin was not quite aware of it, for Tom always wiped his memories afterwards. All Borgin knew was that there were many occasions in which he awoke not remembering what he'd done the previous night. And Tom, being the clever and cunning-minded wizard that he was, would always make him tea and suggest he go and lie down for the day.

"But I've got to keep the shop open, boy," grumbled Borgin as Tom helped him up the stairs to his room. "Got to make a living..."

"I'll keep it open, sir," Tom assured him.

"Ah dear boy, I don't know what I would do without you. And frankly, I don't know what's happening with me. Must be old age or something...did I ever tell you that I once dreamed of playing professional quidditch? Ha! Imagine me on a broomstick! Thousands of people cheering m'name. Say, you look rather sick yourself, boy. Maybe it's a virus we've got? Maybe ought to go to St. Mungo's?"

"Just lie down, sir," said Tom, pulling a blanket over the old man and making his way to the door.

"You sure you alright boy? You really don't look well."

"I'm fine," answered Tom without looking at Borgin. He shut the door behind him and glanced at the cracked mirror at the end of the corridor before climbing back down the stairs. Borgin was right. Tom really did not look like himself anymore. His face had gotten paler than it had ever been, if it were at all possible. He was beginning to show faint scratch marks on his cheeks and his eyes looked very tired and gaunt.

He put on his traveling cloak and hung up a "CLOSED" sign on the front door before locking up and descending down Knockturn Alley. At the end of the alleyway, he turned around and disapparated.

He arrived on the edge of a cliff amidst a thick fog that stretched its wings for miles. His cloak flowed behind him as he made his way over to the little shack where he'd once cursed his uncle. Snakes were slithering on and about the land and they hissed words of welcome to Tom as he passed by them. He pulled out his wand, muttered Lumos, and let himself into the dark and filthy shack. He looked around, remembering it as though it were only yesterday that he'd met Morfin Gaunt there. The floors creaked beneath his feet as he made his way over to the filthy armchair at the back of the room. He pushed it aside with his wand and knelt down, pulling one of the floorboards off with another flick of his wand. Then, he carefully slid Marvolo's ring off of his finger, eyed it for a moment, and then placed it below the floorboard, sealing it with another flick of his wand.

He'd distinctly felt it vibrate before it parted from his touch.