Chapter Thirty: A Human Host

"Sir, why have you brought us here?" Tom wanted to know as he peered out through a small window on the side of the clockworks inside of Big Ben. He had to raise his voice to be heard over the noise made by the machinery.

"There's someone I would like you to meet," Dumbledore told them with his most enigmatic smile. He was practically beaming.

"Why would we meet them here?" Hermione wanted to know. Her tone of voice and body language made it very clear she did not want anything to do with the old man or his crackpot experiments, but Tom knew she would remain because he had asked it of her.

"You see, Miss Granger, this particular person would not wish to be identified as one in which another person resides," Dumbledore explained. "The practice of making horcruxes was quite widespread at the turn of the century, but now it's quite out of fashion. For some time now, our guest has wanted his—guest—out. So much so, in fact, that he's willing to risk death to see the deed done."

"Fascinating," Tom commented as he rubbed his chin. "But sir, do you intend to use the potion as is, or should we not take into consideration the size and strength of the person within whom the horcrux resides?"

"What do you think is best, Tom?" he asked. "After all, you seem to be the mastermind behind this field of study, as it were."

"What can you tell me about the man?" Tom inquired.

"He is an average-sized male, relatively strong magic, about the age of forty," said Dumbledore.

"Hmm," Tom said. "You should have told me all this before we came. I have no cauldron, no ingredients to brew—"

"Everything you need is right over there, Tom," he answered with a chuckle, and with the wave of his wand the invisibility charm he'd cast was ended, revealing a rather sophisticated setup consisting of a table, cauldron, and any kind of ingredient Tom could possibly want.

"Impressive," Tom told him appreciatively. "I'll begin immediately. I'd hate to keep our first customer waiting."

Albus laughed. "Tom, you don't think we're doing all this to help people, do you? Perhaps in a way, yes, but I certainly had no aim to market this stuff. I mean, how many people do you suppose would wish to buy a horcrux-extracting potion?"

"To hear you talk, I understood it to be quite a few," he answered with a raised brow. "And if it's not for that purpose, what other did you have in mind."

"I've told you already, Tom, we're trying to extract Grindelwald's horcrux," he said with an impatient sigh. "I thought you were smart enough to have remembered that."

"Sir, I've known enough people in my time to know that more than one motive for a particular invention is more than possible. In fact, I'd have to say it was more likely probable."

"You're a bit smarter than you ought to be, Tom," said Dumbledore, his magnanimous smile taking on a decidedly creepy air. "My motives are my own. You would be wise not to pry any further than the surface."

"Yes, sir," Tom answered. He had half a mind to botch the potion, but the old man watched his every move like a hawk. He would spot it for sure if he tried to alter the potion in any way.

Hermione's voice rang out in shocked surprise, "Cornelius Fudge?"

"Quiet, girl, do you want someone to hear you?" growled the man in question. He was, of course, much younger than the Cornelius that Hermione remembered, but there could be no mistaking who he was, as the man would one day become Minister of Magic.

"Sorry, sir," she answered contritely, then cast Tom a bewildered look behind the backs of the two men as Dumbledore greeted his friend.

"Cornelius, I believe you know Tom Riddle," said the old man silkily. "And the girl behind you is Hermione Granger. She is an especially bright pupil of mine, and so I have brought her along to help out in the endeavor. But of course, you must understand that all the real credit shall go to Tom if he pulls this off."

"Indeed," said Fudge, his smile every bit as oily as Dumbledore's.

Hermione wished she could tell Tom who the man he was about to remove a horcrux from was very important in the future from which she came. But short of blurting it out and thus alerting them all as to the man's future job, there was little she could do.

Of course, there was always the possibility that he would kill Fudge, and alter the future as a result. Hermione didn't like the man, and had always suspected him of being rather shifty, but she would still do everything she could to ensure his survival. Without him, every event that had led up to Hermione coming here might never happen at all. She might never come back and be with Tom at all, a thought that left her feeling decidedly ill.

"Is the potion ready, Tom?" asked Dumbledore when he saw that Tom had begun to put a measure of it into a cup of firewhiskey.

"Yes, sir," he answered as he moved to bring it to him.

"Let the girl bring it," Cornelius said as he looked Hermione over. "I'm sure she must be good for something useful."

"Sir, Hermione has one of the most brilliant minds I've ever seen," Tom protested. "She may even be as smart as I am."

"High praise, indeed, sweetheart," smirked Cornelius as he took the cup from her hands. His fingers slid over hers as he did so, and lingered there a bit longer than necessary. The bile rose up into Hermione's throat and she made a loud noise as she swallowed it down again.

Tom scowled while the other two men chuckled, and then Cornelius brought the cup to his lips.

"Mind you drink it all as quickly as you can," Tom told him. "It's a rather fast-acting potion."

"And who is it we are extracting today?" asked Hermione sweetly.

"My father, of course," Cornelius grumbled. "He believed that his children replacing him was something to take literally."

"How horrid!" she gasped.

"But it was standard practice back then, my dear," he explained as his eyes roved down her blouse, trying to see what color bra she wore. Her ire rising now, she tried to back away, but he held her hands fast against the cup as he drank the contents in one big, noisy gulp.

"Here, now, let the girl go," Tom told him.

Whether he wanted to or not, Cornelius was forced to comply as the flesh of his body began to roil and bubble, sending him spinning about in an unnaturally fast series of circles. A loud pop sounded, and when the smoke cleared they all saw a shriveled, smallish creature who resembled a man.

"Why, you ungrateful wretch!" the little man hissed. "I ought to take you right over my knee and—"

"And what?" asked Cornelius as he towered above him.

"Go to hell, you rotter!" he squeaked, and then exploded into dust.

"We really must find a way to prevent the self-destruction aspect of that draught," Dumbledore complained. "It must be the very next thing we work on, Tom."

"As you wish, Professor," he said.

"And you, Cornelius?" Dumbledore asked. "How do you feel?"

"Quite—alone," he answered. "I didn't realize how used to the old man I actually was."

"Interesting," Dumbledore said. "Most interesting, indeed. And you'll tend to the matter we discussed, I presume?"

"Indeed I will," he said. "Right away. Thank you, my old friend. I can never repay you for this."

"No, but I'm certainly willing to let you try," he answered with a smirk and a wink.

From where he still stood near the table, Tom groaned and rolled his eyes.