The Ceremony

Objects of Desire

Sixth year was a crucial year for the students of Hogwarts. The began their NEWTs, the highest grade available in Wizarding Britain. They also selected the subjects that they would specialize in, which they chose as their best. Tom chose Transfiguration, Potions, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, History, Herbology and Defence Against the Dark Arts. He felt that he had mastered Charms and had no need to continue studying spells that he already knew. His major choices reflected his interests in channelling his might into the very basis and functions of Magic. Classes had been relatively simple and easy. Yet for Tom, his work as a student was a piece of theatre. All the clubs, the papers, the essays and the points he earned. He no longer had any interest in showing his brilliance to the teachers and seducing them with his precociousness and charm. Most of his time was devoted to learning about the Horcrux.

As Fortescue had told him, it was banned completely from Hogwarts. No book taught it and no professor would mention it even idly. And asking out loud would attract attention that he never wanted, especially the attention of Albus Dumbledore.

True to form, Dumbledore had invited him to stay after one prefect meeting and talked to him about the murders.

"The name of the Muggle family is Riddle," he said calmly, his blue eyes piercing through his. "Thomas and Mary Riddle and their son Tom. Tom here is in his late 30s and would have been in the right age of your father…"

"Interesting," he said offhandedly. His eyes remained cool, clean and indifferent.

"Here's a picture, Tom," said Dumbledore presenting another newspaper and flattening it on the table.

This time, Tom could not prevent the look of blank shock on his face which he was sure Dumbledore noticed even if it only appeared for a brief second.

"I didn't know you subscribe to Muggle newspapers, sir" he said steadily. "I thought it uncommon for a wizard such as yourself."

Dumbledore smiled and then continued, "One has to read Muggle newspapers if one wants to see movie timings, or read book reviews or to keep track of the war effort and the events in the colonies." He peered at Tom and then added, "Our newspapers tend to be quite narrow minded. Granted the Muggle papers can be just as bad but even then there are more possibilities." He continued, "I was raised by a family of wizards, Tom and to me all that you took for granted in your childhood as a Muggle is a source of wonder and delight for me."

"Okay sir," he said shortly. He looked at the black and white still photographs of the three Riddles. It had appeared on the sixth page under the crime beat and the mystery of their deaths had found an expert considering several vague poisons, the possibility of them being gassed or tortured subliminally by invisible radar. There was no doubt that the young picture of Tom Riddle Sr. resembled him greatly. "So this man is my father?"

"Don't you know, Tom?" asked Dumbledore quietly. It was impossible to know what Dumbledore really meant even when he asked the idlest questions. No person in this school was harder to predict and this conjured hatred and dislike for the old man in Riddle's heart.

"No."

"Mrs. Cole informed me that you had believed to have found information on your father during your final weeks there." Tom would have sworn many insults and nasty remarks but he remained calm. "She said that you came back believing it was a false alarm." Been keeping a right little eye on me, has he! hissed a voice very much like the young 11-year old punk that first met Dumbledore.

Tom stood still. He then decided to speak, "I found out about the Riddles at Little Hangleton in an old Muggle newspaper in the public library. I didn't know for sure who they were so I made some phone calls and I left by bus. When I got there," he arranged his voice so that it resonated heavily, "everyone in town mentioned they were dead and I didn't know what to do, so I took the next bus back home."

"I see," said Dumbledore finally. Tom wasn't sure if he believed his lie or not, it was hard to tell.

He continued, "I don't know if he is my father, though. Maybe Mum was from that village and she liked this man and decided to name him after me. He was a big man in that village they say, very rich." He added in his best 'hopeful and earnest' voice, "Their murderers were caught by our justice, right?"

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "Mr. Gaunt comes from a family known for violence and disturbance in the area and had a prior conviction to Azkaban and he confessed to the murders, wielding a wand which by the reverse spell effect was detected as the instrument which led to their deaths." He smiled oddly. "It's almost too neat." Tom did not dare to make a single movement. He stood still and was calm from the outside, inside, his blood was boiling in rage and fear.

"You don't think he did it, then?" asked Tom purposefully, raising a curious eyebrow.

Dumbledore shook his head, "It is very likely that Mr. Gaunt did indeed kill these unfortunate people. It is strange however that a crime committed in a rage leaves so few traces. They usually leave a bigger mess, especially for someone lacking magical education and in fact English speech." Tom remained so still that he might have been bound magically and rooted in his seat. "Mr. Gaunt only seemed to speak in Parseltongue, his trial had to be conducted by translation. I supplied this function."

"You are a Parselmouth," breathed Tom, unable to restrain himself.

"Not a natural one," said Dumbledore calmly. "I cannot carry a conversation with a snake, communicate with it by will. I can understand and speak it perfectly well with a human who speaks this language. As a member of the Wizengamot, I presided over the Gaunts' trial and supplied this function. I found Mr. Gaunt's actions strange, the efficiency, and the refinement with which he committed this murder, especially since his family nurtured a feud with the Riddles." Dumbledore paused, letting it sink in. "From the investigation in the house, there was no magical traces of anything else in the room. It appears he apparated directly into the drawing room, killed the three Riddles and then disapparated back to his shack. Very systematic for a crime of passion, he had to know precisely where the Riddles were to apparate to them but this would only be possible if Mr. Gaunt was a regular visitor to the Riddle House, and even then to apparate to them knowing exactly where three Muggles were." Dumbledore raised his hand to his temple and rubbed it. "But then, perhaps Mr. Gaunt is more devious and more rational then I give him credit for."

Tom took a deep breath and spoke deliberately, "There's no mention of this Mr. Riddle marrying and he didn't have any children. But then maybe he wasn't married to my mother." His shoulders drooped in feigned fatigue. "In either case, I can hardly claim any inheritance." That's what he expects, thinks I want my hands on their filthy money.

"Very well, Tom," said Dumbledore dismissively.

Ever since then, Tom had been keen to keep distance from Dumbledore yet it was hard as Dumbledore was Deputy Headmaster and Gryffindor Head of House which meant that he had a key role in school affairs and that as a prefect he had to constantly deal with him. And always he would find Dumbledore's eyes lingering in his direction, keeping a close eye on him. Riddle refused to let his guard down. He knew that Dumbledore was a skilled Legilimens, that was how he had seen him for what he was the day he had met him, but he had learned magic to protect himself from him. Yet Dumbledore was indomitable and he had seen through him, was the only one who saw through what he suspected was a perfect airtight case. Of course, Morfin wouldn't have brains to make things clean and simple as he had. Dumbledore of course was also the only one who protested against the Hagrid boy's expulsion and he had seen through the flimsy scheme he had improvised then and he had arranged for Hagrid to be the gamekeeper's apprentice. Of course he has no proof, no evidence. I made sure of that. He can't do a thing but be an interfering fool hoping to scare me into tripping, he sneered, well we'll just have to see that.

In his spare time, Tom dwelt on the Horcrux hoping to learn more. It was on one particular day that he dwelt on it that he made one of the greatest discoveries of his life.

He was walking on his way to his prefect's patrol and was walking along the seventh floor corridor thinking about the Horcrux and its mysteries when he suddenly noticed a door appear out of nowhere. He pulled out his wand and tapped it several times, establishing it as a real door and a real space inside it. He opened the door and stepped inside, his wand outstretched. It was a bare room much like the room in his orphanage. He noticed the bed was similar to the one in his room. He walked towards it and found books stacked on top of it. On a closer look, he saw that it wasn't just books but also pieces of scroll and unbound parchment. His hand reached the book on the apex of the pile. The title was Secrets of the Darkest Art. It was a very fragile, very old book and it smelt of bad parchment. Tom opened it and began reading, parsing through the pages. When he reached midway into the book, his hands began shaking. In these books were the ways and means of Horcrux magic. The very thing that Tom had been searching for and now a door opens suddenly and gives it to him. He began examining the other parchments and scrolls and found more information on the Horcrux. His mind was alight with delirium. He could not go to his prefect's patrol now. He rushed out of the room and did not stop until he met the Head Boy, Edgar Bones. He told him that he was unwell and would not patrol tonight and the Head Boy gave him his exemption. He practically glided back to the seventh floor in giddy fervour.

It disappeared as soon as he approached there. The place where the door had been was gone. His happiness had turned to anguish and he began pacing the corridor looking at the wall space from several different angles. He pointed his wand towards it and muttered many revealing charms but they did not work. Did not reveal anything hidden there! He paused, thinking of when he had found the room. He did not expect to find it. He had passed this corridor many times and the walls remained blank and tonight it suddenly revealed to him a hidden room. What had changed? He began pacing. He was walking into the corridor thinking about the Horcruxes…he stopped. A smile lit his face, could it be so simple? The room was shaped exactly like the one in his orphanage where since childhood he would read silently away from the other children. It was styled exactly to his wishes and desires.

He began walking along the corridor, pacing back and forth thinking of the Horcruxes and then on his third attempt, exactly as it did ten minutes ago, the door appeared. Riddle walked in slowly, anxiously, he was careful not to blink in case that broke the spell. He entered the room and it was exactly how it had been when he left it. The books were there. Tom spent the entire night in that room, reading the books until midnight. Fortunately for him, the next day was the weekend and so he had no classes to be early for. He continued reading the books in the morning, stepping out briefly to his common room only to placate his friends about his absence from bed and to borrow parchments and his diary. Riddle spent the entire weekend learning all he could about the Horcruxes, taking copious notes and making many long entries into his little diary. The room he had entered was filled with a magic beyond anything he comprehended, it supplied parchment and extra ink when he ran out of supplies.

In the weeks that followed he would examine the room carefully, passing it by thinking of different things he wanted gauging the level of its power. It supplied everything save food and drink which was an exception of the Elementary Laws of Transfiguration. He did not know how these books entered the room. They were rare obscure books and were extremely hard to find anywhere else. Tom then decided to see something for himself. He walked out of the room and walked past the door three times fixing his mind on the exact mouth-organ he had used a portkey. That mouth-organ was currently in his orphanage. And Tom had magically marked it with his initials. When he entered the room he found it filled with mouth organs but not one of them had the magically carved initials. The limits of the room were that of time and space. He had reasoned that the books and articles one obtained in the room was what was available at any place in the castle, even if it was obscured or hidden or out of bounds such as personal studies of headmasters or professors. This allowed it to replicate the precise books in this room. But the magic did not extend outside. The room could not replicate a simple magically marked mouthorgan because it had never entered Hogwarts.

A key portion of his sixth year was devoted to participating in what was known as The Slug Club. An organization run by Horace Slughorn which allowed his favourite choice students from across the houses to meet and befriend key figures in magical society. Riddle enjoyed these gatherings in so far as it allowed him to meet and impress people outside Hogwarts and he ensured that no one who passed him by forgot him. How handsome and how kind he was. He even managed to win himself a dance with Ekaterina Zabini, who was in her seventh year when he had started Hogwarts and was now a highly prized society heiress. He enjoyed waltzing with her in the room, enjoyed the looks of envy and longing on those of his friends and fellow Slytherins and he enjoyed the teasing glances and barely concealed desire directed his way by the girl who insisted that Tom call her Katya as all her friends did. Her family were wealthy exiles from a Grindelwald-terrorized Albania and she would have been sent to Durmstrang had they not come here.

"But thank heavens I did," she had told him, her English accented elegantly by the traces of her mother tongue. "Hogwarts is so much brighter and beautiful. And England is safe from that madman's delusions." She paused and stared at Tom with her deep grey eyes which she noted was the same colour as his though his was lighter, "I saw him once."

"Really?" said Tom softly, he was in the process of refilling his plate with some pudding, "Grindelwald?"

"He wanted me to call him Gellert," she hissed the word as if it was an ugly beast. "I was nine years old and he wanted my father to join his cause. He said that there was no stopping him and then he saw me," she trembled, "he turned to me and told my father with a smile, he smiles like a child. He acts like he has never grown up. He wears bright green robes, just like that Peter Pan show I saw once. I digress," she said with a smile, "he looked at father and said that he didn't know that he had a daughter, he told me that I took after my mother and then mentioned how he had known her in Durmstrang and tried in vain to woo her and now it seems that he had a second chance…"

"That is disgusting," said Tom in sincerity.

Katya laughed, "What else can you expect from a Swiss?" Tom laughed genuinely at the girl's wit and the two of them stared at each other flushed with pleasure. Katya continued softly extending her joke, "The Swiss are all so peaceful and pretend to be so tolerant, eventually someone had to bear the weight of the hypocrisy and repression of the land?"

Tom smiled, "England's like that."

"I suppose so," her shoulders shivered slightly. "Can we take a walk?"

Tom nodded and kept his plate. They had to dance with the other couples in order to avoid being seen. The music used was American muggle jazz which the Wizard Wireless had used as part of the wizard-muggle solidarity of the war and also the great demand and popularity of said music. Some of the identifiable purebloods remained away from the floor but even some of Tom's most fanatical friends were doing two steps with their girlfriends. Tom took Katya out of the dungeons and the two continued laughing and chatting all the way to the grounds, until Tom caught side of unwelcome company – Dumbledore and the Hagrid boy in deep conversation.

He urged Katya to stop as he overheard them talking.

"…I swear Professor, he doesn't really understand."

"Maybe, Rubeus but Thestrals are very difficult to manage," argued Dumbledore firmly.

"Look, they are really rare and you won't find 'em anywhere else in England if we take them in, it'll make Hogwarts more special," answered the eager boy. He was very tall and had shaggy hair yet the youth and enthusiasm showed otherwise.

Dumbledore sighed, "I personally think it might be a good idea. It's just that Headmaster Dippet might object especially given recent events."

Hagrid's face fell and there was no denying the resentment in his voice, "I thought my job would be too help keep the grounds and preserve Hogwarts' beauty. It'll make the Forest grander. And with the Thestrals we can cut down on some o' the boats and make things quicker for travel." His voice continued, "They're not like Aragog and even Aragog wasn' like Aragog…"

"I believe you," said Dumbledore softly. "What we can do is keep them in the back area of the forest, not too close to the centaurs and well away from the students range. You and Ogg can train them in the meantime." Hagrid's face lit. "And when they are ready I will discuss it again with Armando."

"Who is the one talking to Dumbledore?" asked Katya forcefully, following the intensity of Riddle's gaze.

"That fool is Rubeus Hagrid, an idiot whose father pulled strings with Dumbledore to get his half-giant son into school," said Tom with a satisfied smile.

"Half-giant?" asked Katya shocked. "How is that even possible?"

Riddle laughed cruelly. It carried in the air and both Dumbledore and Hagrid turned towards them. Hagrid's shoulders stretched heavily as if he was restraining himself. Dumbledore however stared at them politely.

"Ah Tom, I see you are showing a dear ex-student of mine the grounds of her former school," he said warmly.

"Yes," said Tom smoothly, walking forward with Katya who followed the interaction of the two wizards with interest. She had known Dumbledore as the greatest wizard of the land and the most respected of authorities but to hear the way Tom talked to him, one would expect them to be rivals. "You seem to be doing the same thing." He paused to give a supercilious grin to Hagrid whose black eyes stared at him in righteous anger.

"Rubeus is a member of the staff," said Dumbledore, with a hint of warning in his voice. "He is aid and assistant to the Gamekeeper and the Professor of Care of Magical Creatures."

"But he is a servant," stated Katya baldly. "I have heard of your graciousness and generosity, Mr. Dumbledore but surely you don't consider this…Rubeus here…" pointing jerkily to Hagrid, "to have the same standing as you do."

Dumbledore smiled and bowed to her, "When you get to my age, Miss Zabini, you often find that you have been someone else's servant while those we deem servants are masters of their small world. As your father would undoubtedly tell you." Katya winced and glared at Dumbledore. "My brother Aberforth was a most poor student and he left school after completing his OWLs and he did poorly though he gained a reputation for being a fearsome dueller." Dumbledore laughed softly. "Since then he has taken to goat farming and has a nice residence in Hogsmeade and has recently purchased the lease for the old Hog's Head Inn and he has much more free time and more time to travel than I do." He added shrugging his shoulders. "Of course I belong at Hogwarts but there are times when I wish things were different."

He and Hagrid walked away at a pace, without a backwards' glance. Zabini and Tom walked away to the grounds silently. Tom stared at the pair in intense dislike though his mind ruminated on Dumbledore's words – "master of their small world". He then remembered a reference to Katya in Dumbledore's conversation.

"What did Dumbledore mean when he mentioned your father?" asked Tom after a short while.

Katya stared at him softly and then said, "He wants me to get married." Tom paused, feeling a strange pang inside him. "We don't have any money, you know. The Zabinis were very affluent in Albania but here we are small and anonymous, much more vulnerable. Father wants to give me the best comforts of course but things would have been different if he had a son. Much more respectable, strapping and strong like him. "

"Who you are to be betrothed to?" asked Tom, not hiding the stirrings of desire and jealousy in him.

"Blake Moon," she said warily. "Nice, rich and English, Pureblood of course and old money to his name, and very well connected to the Ministry." She snaked her hand around Tom's shoulder and leaned to him as she continued, "Father doesn't know how to settle here, you know? My mother well, they were never close and she has had other lovers and he's had his own friends to meet. They took care of me the best they could and left home for me but there was no love in that home."

Tom smiled at her weakly, he knew what it meant to be raised without any presence of love though he had moved on to removing any want or need for it.

She stared at Tom with wide eyes of longing, "I'm staying at the Three Broomsticks tonight." Carefully choosing her words, she continued, "Can you tell Professor Slughorn to send someone to escort me there, unless of course, Mr. Riddle is brave to cross the school boundaries," her lips twitched slightly, "and risk his prefect badge to keep me safe from this dark night."

Riddle smiled widely, showing his perfectly maintained teeth, "Well I might but perhaps Miss Zabini might be interested to spend some more time at school before she leaves. I happen to know a quiet place."

Katya's face had a mocking look and she openly giggled, "Mr. Riddle, I had no idea you could be so brazen. Where can I spend time quietly in this school. Where I remember how difficult it was to keep secrets, and hide things, where no one is sure of being overheard."

"Well I know a place that no one knows in this school?" he said mischievously.

"You mean the Chamber of Secrets you helped to close down?" she retorted playfully, placing her hands on his shoulder.

"Well that too," said Riddle placing his hands around her waist as she kissed his cheek and buried her face in his shoulder. "But I know some place," he leant in and kissed her on the lips, a kiss she returned with earnest, "better."

It was an hour until Katya had left the Room of Requirement, well after the party and Tom was certain that neither of them would ever see each other again. Not that it mattered to him.

"Any chance I can get invited to the wedding?" he breathed dryly, resting his hand on his shoulder as he stared at her face. They were both lying down on the bed staring at each other.

"I don't know," she wondered aloud mockingly, "Blake dearest would it be okay if I invited a nice handsome sixth year who I deflowered the other day?" She laughed heartily.

"I thought it was boys who deflowered the girls?" asked Riddle childishly.

"Not when I am older than you," she said kissing him. She then glanced at the ornate room around them. It even had an enchanted window that showered romantic moonlight into the room. "This place looks just like my room…but like my house in Albania…it's marvellous."

"Yes," said Tom with a sigh. "That's why I asked you to get to the room. If I did it, it would look like my room in the Orphanage."

"The Orphanage?" asked Katya in shock.

"I was raised with Muggles," he said bitterly. "My father abandoned me after he found out that Mum was a witch and she didn't use magic to save herself…she died just until after she gave birth to me, naming me after the same man that abandoned us."

"You poor dear," said Katya, kissing him compassionately. "Maybe she couldn't save herself."

"What do you mean?" asked Riddle angrily. The change in temper was so sudden that she started.

"I meant that it often happens that when," she continued softly, "witches, or wizards, when they suffer a broken heart like when their loved one has betrayed them or died, their powers get affected. It happens commonly." She said sadly, "the most powerful magic in the world is love and when that is gone or compromised, people tend to loose their powers or it weakens or fade away."

Riddle stared at her for several moments before laughing, it was not the coy young laughter that had seduced the girl earlier but it was cold and cruel, "That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard. I can do magic beyond anything in this school and I didn't need love to wield it." He stared at her with complete malice and distaste. All lust and desire for her had disappeared. This filthy hypocrite will teach me about love.

Katya winced away from the boy she had thought so beguiling and so charming. She sat up and walked to a chair containing robes and began slipping on the clothes she had disrobed when she and Tom had entered the room.

"Why do you rush away princess?" asked Tom menacingly, "Was I not satisfactory?"

"You were perfectly charming," she said coldly. "Though I have had much better." She glared at him, "That was your first time wasn't it?"

Tom paled vulnerably, his face was replaced by an ugly sneer as she continued, and "Yes the boy who doesn't believe in love wants to have love made to him even if he can't do it very well himself."

"What do you know about love?" hissed Tom, "you're about to be engaged to a fool who'll parade you around the world like a prized Pomeranian." He spat, "A finely pruned bitch."

Katya Zabini glared at him, she finished slipping on her dress and wrapped her scarf back on and then walked to the door only to find it gone. "How?" she turned to face Tom Riddle who was now standing on his feet glowering at her.

"Open this door, now?" she was now wielding her wand. Her mind was in a frenzy at the mess she had gotten herself into. She stared intently into the cold eyes of his as he gazed into hers.

"You know nothing of love, silly girl!" he hissed. "That muggle you liked so dearly," his voice lilted into a rhyme, "whose wife was so very pretty, whose kids were so cute and sweet, and who you hexed betwixt your sheets."

"How…did…you?" she gasped, her wand dropping to the floor. "You can read my mind, can't you?"

"The mind is a many layered thing, just like yourself," he breathed malevolently. "I can't call it reading. I think you would like Mum she was a fool just like you."

"It wasn't fair that he had to belong to someone else," she wailed angrily. "I could have him any time with my magic…"

"…but it's not enough is it?" said Riddle harshly. "You wanted him to really love you and you brought misery into his life, destroyed his family, didn't you? All because of your foolish fantasy of love."

"You don't understand. I was lonely and he was so kind to me and so generous and so handsome…" she trailed away miserably.

"You would give up your father's noble name for some Muggle plaything who doesn't even believe you exist?" drawled Tom, "I see now, it's not Love that is powerful magic. It's stupidity. Stupidity that reduces someone as fair and intelligent as yourself to the filthy lows of a whore." Tom stood up and gathered his clothes and began wearing them. He did not why he exploded at her, why his kindness and sincere infatuation with her had evaporated so completely that nothing filled him inside except contempt for her and his loathing for his own weakness for her charms. To think he had expected so long for this experience only to be purged out of all desire.

"My advice, Katya" he hissed coldly as she collapsed on the bed, "my advice is that you marry this fool and then after some time has passed," she stopped crying as she stared at him expectantly, perhaps hoping that he would ask her to wait for him, that he would visit her, "after some time has passed when everything is settled, rid your self of him."

"How?" she asked softly.

"I think you know how?" said Tom with a cold smile on his face. "You've thought of it, have you not?" Her face was flushed with horror. "Yes an old Albanian curse that scorned men and women put over their objects of desire so that no one can claim them. It would never happen by your hands and you would be spared the guilt but you need never belong to any man for very long. Only it's rare for the object of desire herself to choose this path but of course none would suspect you, especially in this country. Think of all the money you'll learn as a career widow crying over all the men you see buried."

The door appeared again. Tom opened it for her and she rose and looked at him in complete impotence and humiliation. He had felt more pleasure breaking her then he did from her body. That's because I have power with my command of her mind but she had command over my body.

Tom looked at her and then smiled, the same way he had earlier, the young awkward handsome man. The change was so sudden that Katya backed away in shock, as if Tom had two faces.

"I will give you a choice, good woman," he said mockingly. "I can clear your mind of your entire time with me. I can erase it completely, only me of course. You'll go along and do what you planned on doing. Your feeble way of freedom, cursing yourself till your death. But you'll never know the truth that someone penetrated you, deeper than anyone else," she fell again in tears. "That will be my little secret and personal pleasure. It makes no difference to me, either way I know you won't tell anyone of what we shared tonight."

Ekaterina wailed and sniffed on the floor, her defeat complete, "Do it, then!"

"Really, are you sure?" he hissed softly. "You can get rid of them you know. Run away from your father and start anew. But you love daddy." He smirked triumphantly, "Yes that great power of yours which allows your father to tell you to do as he wishes and when you bring enough gold, you are to sire little grandchildren for him. Oh…but you like gold. Yes you like the best of everything."

"Do it now!" she yelled at him, pleading at his feet.

Tom walked Katya to the gates of Hogwarts; she just managed to catch the fellow Slug Club guests who were chatting with the teachers and Headmasters on their way out.

She smiled at Tom, "You are such a charmer, Tom, and you know so much about Hogwarts." Upon seeing Tom's disarming smile, she added, "When will you show me the Chamber of Secrets that you closed? Everyone in Slytherin was talking all about it."

"Really", Zabini jumped as Headmaster Dippet who had been talking with an old grey haired warlock turned to the two upon hearing the phrase, "not boasting about your laurels are you Tom? I thought you were not supposed to be discussing the details with your friends."

"No sir," he said firmly. "I haven't been talking to them and they haven't said anything to me. But I will have a word with them not to spread tall tales and rumours."

"Oh, you lack all sense of humour, Tommy," said Zabini, squeezing his cheek.

Tom smiled sheepishly, "No one has called me Tommy since little Amy Benson asked me if I wanted some birthday cake. Will I see you again Ekaterina?"

She stared at him regally and then smiled, "I think you can call me Katya, Tom!" She leant in to kiss his cheek, "And maybe I will send you a wedding invitation. It's in March." Of course she would not be sending any wedding invitation of any sort to him.

She walked out of the gates hand in hand with some of the girls she had attended the party with. Tom smiled back to her as well. He noticed that some of his fellow Slugs, as the Club inevitably described its members, were looking at him with a knowing smile as if they suspected or hoped that Tom had a lusty encounter with a highly desirable exotic woman.

As soon as they were back in their common room they all asked him directly what had happened between them.

"I took her to see some old portraits who were friends with her when she was here," he said weakly. He had to keep repeating it over and over again. "You know the same old ex-student stuff. That's all they remember when they leave the school – the ghosts, the portraits even the poltergeist."

Rodolophus Lestrange, a big bearded man with deep black eyes walked towards Tom and placed a hand over his shoulders, "Come on, Tom don't be modest. She couldn't keep her eyes off of you the entire time she was in that room. Odd girl, wouldn't give me the time of day."

"Believe it or not, Rodolphus, nothing happened," he said calmly but with an air of finality that Tom's friends had learned to divine very well.

The conversation turned to their experiences with the Slug Club with their dates. They unlike Tom, were perfectly willing to give details of their time with girls.

"There's only so much energy left in you," indicated Mathew Nott, inclining a tiny distance between two fingers, "after you're done with Maggie."

The other boys oohed and aahed in appreciation. Tom remained silent seated on his chair, unlike the others who were gathered on cushions in the common room floor watching them discuss their amorous exploits, real or imagined, to each other.

It had amazed him how immediately his feelings for that girl disappeared. He had planned to tell his friends about how he broke that girl but she no longer mattered to him. He realized that he had given too much of himself away to that girl, had been out of control with her – all because she had mentioned words and phrases about love to him. He pondered if he could kill her. No quite unnecessary. No one will ever need to ask her for anything of import and her mind is absent of any remains of our time. He had never lost control before except on the day he had killed his father, when he had taunted and broken him before his death and when Dumbledore had visited him. It perturbed him greatly when she had said that love was the greatest magic in the world. All the more when he felt only little of the bliss and pleasure his friends had described in making love to girls, especially a beautiful woman like her. It only lasted for a few moments of happiness and bliss and then he was purged and empty and all that he wanted to do was to teach her a lesson and destroy her illusions. His greatest satisfaction was when he made her bend her will to his by forcing her to choose her fantasy over her reality and she had chosen her fantastic world of false love over her reality.

"…then Slughorn makes a beeline for the table, slobbering over the pineapples," guffawed Avery. "Apparently Slughorn has a fetish for pineapples."

"What?" asked Tom suddenly.

Avery stunned by the sudden interest of Tom Riddle in their conversation stared blankly.

"What about Slughorn and pineapples?" he asked patiently.

"Well he likes them a lot…says it makes him feel light and happy…"

"Where would you get the best, tastiest pineapples?" he continued, politely.

Avery was clearly bewildered as were the other boys. Tom had been their leader for many years now but this was the strangest and most whimsical behaviour he had displayed with them.

Nott supplied, "The Three Broomsticks are great. But I know Slughorn likes pineapples ordered from that Muggle village beyond the mountains," he sneered, "I always thought that he didn't have enough wizard's pride."

"Get me seven fresh pineapples from that village by next week," said Tom commandingly. "A Hogsmeade weekend's coming up this week, you can do everything then."

Nott stared at him, his eyes wide with shock until he asked, stupidly, "Why seven?"

"Because," said Tom with an enigmatic smile, "Seven is the most powerfully magical number."