Chapter Twenty-eight: A Bit of Research
Tom Riddle set a cauldron onto the table beside Dumbledore with a clattering noise. He and Hermione were in the old man's rooms at Hogwarts trying to create a potion that could remove a horcrux from someone's body.
"You have yet to tell us who you believe you'll be giving this potion if we should perfect it," Hermione pointed out as she glanced over at the pot with one brow raised dubiously.
"As I've told you, I've no idea," Dumbledore said. "But it's taking too long, trying to get the ingredients correct. It's almost Spring and we've gotten no farther than we were when we started. There must be an ingredient we haven't thought of."
"Sir, there's something I'm curious about," said Tom as he began to add ingredients into the cauldron. "When these potions are finished, what exactly have you been testing them out on?"
"Do you really want to know, Mr. Riddle?"
"Sir, you can't possibly test out a horcrux removal potion unless you have a horcrux to use it on," Hermione pointed out.
"That is quite correct, Miss Granger," Dumbledore agreed. "As it happens, I have an assortment of objects in which horcruxes reside. You'd be amazed how widespread the practice of making the things used to be. My father made three himself in his day."
"He made more than one?" Tom asked, surprised. "But I thought you had to murder somebody to make a horcrux."
"As well you know, Mr. Riddle," Dumbledore reminded him.
Tom's hand absently twisted the ring on his finger as he remembered how he had come by it.
"Has anyone ever accidentally created a horcrux in self-defense?" he asked.
"No one that I know of," he answered with a slight smirk. "You see, Tom, a murder occurs because someone becomes so angry or so desperate to see someone dead that they make it so. Otherwise, it would not be a murder, would it?"
"I suppose not," Tom conceded.
"Regardless of any remorse after the fact, it is the moment at which the death occurs that makes all the difference," Dumbledore added. "You can't take it back once the deed is done, can you?"
"Of course not," said Tom, his voice trailing off as he began to add something else into the potion. "But you say that people used to simply kill someone to make these horcruxes as a common practice at one time? How barbaric."
Hermione watched as Tom's face contorted slightly with a hidden pain. She wondered if he was actually feeling guilty over killing his father. It made no sense to her, given what Dumbledore had told her about him in the future. More and more, she was coming to realize that nothing Albus Dumbledore had to say was as it seemed. What other lies about Tom Riddle had he uttered to her trusting ears?
The old man was peering over his glasses in Hermione's direction now. "Why so quiet, Miss Granger?" he wanted to know.
"No reason," she answered in stilted tones. "Just future tripping."
"You've heard all of this before, I trust?" he asked curiously. "What does the Hermione Granger of the future know of horcruxes?"
"I'd rather not say," she hedged. "It can be nothing that will be helpful for the current situation."
She almost thought she saw a calculating look in the old man's eyes before he hid it behind a mask of mild amusement. Knowing better than to allow the man to hold her gaze long enough to see inside her mind, Hermione turned to watch Tom continue his work instead.
"How is this batch coming along, Tom?" she asked brightly. "Better than the last attempts, I trust?"
"Yes, I think I may have stumbled upon a likely combination," he answered distractedly, totally concentrating on the bubbling brew before him.
"Then let us try it out on this," said Dumbledore as he brought forth a sparkling tiara.
"Where did you get that?" asked Hermione curiously. "It looks familiar somehow."
"It should," Dumbledore commented. "It is shown on the depiction of Rowena Ravenclaw you see hanging on the entrance to their house. It has been believed to be missing for many years, but recently I sent Tom to find it. Of course, he didn't know what he was retrieving at the time."
"Sir, I believe it's ready," said Tom as he glanced up with one brow raised. "You know, it wasn't very easy getting that thing past all the pixies, and the Gray Lady was none too pleased either. You could have at least told me what all the fuss was about."
"All for a good cause, Tom," he said with a smirk. "Shall we?"
"Yes, sir," Tom agreed, scooping up a cupful of the potion and pouring it onto the ancient artifact. It began to bubble and sizzle along the metal, and then suddenly they all heard a loud pop. After the smoke cleared, they all moved forward to see a small, shriveled up creature that resembled a human only because it had arms, legs, and a head. It mewled pitifully as it gazed up at all of them.
"And who's horcrux might you be?" Dumbledore inquired as he looked the thing over.
"I don't remember," it gasped. "Please, I think I am dying."
"How very unfortunate," said Dumbledore as he continued to make no move toward the creature. "I only wish I knew how to prevent that."
With a final gasp, the creature's life expired, and it crumbled into dust on the floor.
"Well," said Dumbledore. "That was—interesting."
"But what does it mean?" Hermione asked him.
"It means, my dear, that we can get a horcrux out," Dumbledore explained. "At least, we can get it out of an object. That is at least more than we knew how to do before this. Thank you, Mr. Riddle. Your help has been invaluable so far."
"Yes, of course, sir," said Tom as he tried to mask his worry. "Always glad to be of help."