Chapter 43
The Lord, the Lover, and the Old Man
Saturday, 8 March 1997
"Hi Harry," Luna greeted with a bright smile in the hall.
"Hey," Harry greeted as he put Sirius's journal down. "How's my favorite Ravenclaw?"
"Pull up a seat!" Ginny welcomed.
"Thank you, but I'm afraid I may not have time for that." Luna smiled.
Ginny feigned offence. "Luna Lovegood, what could be more important than time with me?"
Luna nervously pointed over her shoulder. "Oh! I'm sorry Ginny, I told Colin I'd-"
"Kidding, Luna I'm kidding!" Ginny teased. "You guys have to be at what, six weeks now?" Luna nodded with a blushing smile. "Nice," Ginny congratulated.
"Seriously, good for you two." Harry said with a heartfelt smile.
"Thank you very much," she replied cheerily. "And Harry, this is for you." Luna replied, giving him a note with the headmaster's handwriting as she rose to leave.
"Thanks, and hey, tell Colin, hi from me."
"Us." Ginny corrected.
Luna nodded happily as she left. Harry read the note. "The Old Man wants a meeting tonight."
"Argh," Ginny bemoaned. "I'll wait up."
"No." Harry objected, taking her hand. "No, you won't."
"Harry?" She asked with a suspicious look on her face.
"You're coming with me tonight." Harry grinned.
"You're going to piss the Old Man off." Ginny said with a smirk.
"I am past caring. This is month seven and lesson four. We've been deployed more than he's taught. We've been sitting on that memory for a month now. And you did a lot of the work to get it. You're coming." Harry said as he looked at her determined.
"Yes sir," Ginny grinned. It wasn't fair how good Harry looked when his mind was set.
Later that night they hurried out through the portrait hole and off to the headmaster's office with his pack over Harry's shoulder. They paused by the gargoyle and Harry reminded her, "Occlumency." Ginny nodded as she followed as the statue moved to the side and they took the spiral staircase two steps at a time, knocking on the door just as a clock within chimed eight.
"Enter," called Dumbledore, but as Harry put out a hand to push the door, it was wrenched open from inside. There stood Professor Trelawney.
"Aha!" she cried, pointing dramatically at Harry as she blinked at him through her magnifying spectacles. "So this is the reason I am to be thrown unceremoniously from your office, Dumbledore!"
"My dear Sybill," said Dumbledore in a slightly exasperated voice, "there is no question of throwing you unceremoniously from anywhere, but Harry does have an appointment, and I really don't think there is any more to be said —"
"Very well," said Professor Trelawney, in a deeply wounded voice. "If you will not banish the usurping nag, so be it. . . . Perhaps I shall find a school where my talents are better appreciated. . . ." She pushed between Harry and Ginny and disappeared down the spiral staircase; they heard her stumble halfway down, and Harry guessed that she had tripped over one of her trailing shawls.
"Miss Weasley?" Dumbledore asked with an eyebrow raised, then looked at Harry.
"Evening sir," she greeted with a slight nod as she fell into parade rest.
"We have Slughorn's memory, thanks to Ginny." Harry explained with a nod to her. "A month ago, by the way. She's helped me every damn step of the way in this war. Every battle she has covered my arse. If you want someone wanting to kill Riddle, you want her on the team."
Dumbledore peered over his glasses, looking over the pair. "I don't suppose a warning that 'the affairs of Tom Riddle are dangerous' would find any purchase?"
"It would be insulting for anyone to try to warn me about Riddle… sir." Ginny replied coldly.
"Yes…." Dumbledore said, seemingly to put pieces together. "I expect it would." He looked down. "Harry… I will say if it were anyone else, Miss Granger or Mr. Weasley, I would be sending them away, but… " the Professor looked across the room at the redhead staring in defiance to him, unafraid. "Please close the door and show the lady a seat, Harry," Dumbledore finally said, sounding rather tired.
Harry obeyed, sharing a grin with Ginny, while the Professor used his wand to slide over another seat in front his desk. Harry even held the chair for Ginny out of respect then sat down after her. The pensieve lay between them once more, as did two more tiny crystal bottles full of swirling memory.
"May I at least impress upon you the importance of secrecy Miss Weasley?" Dumbledore asked as they assembled.
"That I will agree to, yes sir." Ginny nodded.
Dumbledore heaved a deep sigh, then said, "Miss Weasley, one assumes Harry has briefed you on his prior lessons."
"One assumes correctly Professor." Ginny replied as a smirk formed on her face. Harry recognized it as the same expression that formed whenever she felt she won.
"Very well then, I am most impressed and thankful for both of your efforts in this matter. As I am a man of order, I would ask you to indulge me and allow me to present the memories I have prepared and then we shall see…." he paused and looked up to both of the teens. "... what treasure you have found." Dumbledore said kindly, "but let us continue with our story where we left off. Harry, would you care to summarize for Miss Weasley?"
"Yes, sir," said Harry quickly. "Riddle killed his father and his grandparents and made it look as though his Uncle Morfin did it. Then he went back to Hogwarts and he asked . . . he asked Professor Slughorn about horcruxes."
"Very good," said Dumbledore. "Now, you will remember, I hope, that I told you at the very outset of these meetings of ours that we would be entering the realms of guesswork and speculation?"
"Yes, sir."
"Thus far, as I hope you agree, I have shown you reasonably firm sources of fact for my deductions as to what Riddle did until the age of seventeen?"
Harry nodded.
"But now," said Dumbledore, "now things become murkier and stranger. If it was difficult to find evidence about the boy Riddle, it has been almost impossible to find anyone prepared to reminisce about the man Voldemort. In fact, I doubt whether there is a soul alive, apart from himself, who could give us a full account of his life since he left Hogwarts. However, I have two last memories that I would like to share with you." Dumbledore indicated the two little crystal bottles gleaming beside the Pensieve. "I shall then be glad of your opinion as to whether the conclusions I have drawn from them seem likely."
"I hope you are not tired of diving into other people's memories, for they are curious recollections, these two," he said. "This first one came from a very old house-elf by the name of Hokey. Before we see what Hokey witnessed, I must quickly recount how Riddle left Hogwarts.
"He reached the seventh year of his schooling with, as you might have expected, top grades in every examination he had taken. All around him, his classmates were deciding which jobs they were to pursue once they had left Hogwarts. Nearly everybody expected spectacular things from Tom Riddle, prefect, Head Boy, winner of the Award for Special Services to the School. I know that several teachers, Professor Slughorn amongst them, suggested that he join the Ministry of Magic, offered to set up appointments, put him in touch with useful contacts. He refused all offers. The next thing the staff knew, Riddle was working at Borgin and Burkes."
"At Borgin and Burkes?" Harry repeated, stunned.
"Hey, there's nothing wrong with a shop job." Ginny corrected.
Dumbledore smiled, "Indeed Miss Weasley you are correct. It seems Riddle saw opportunities few others saw as well. But this was not Riddle's first choice of job. Hardly anyone knew of it at the time — I was one of the few in whom the then headmaster confided — but Riddle first approached Professor Dippet and asked whether he could remain at Hogwarts as a teacher."
"He wanted to stay here? Why?" asked Harry, more amazed still.
"I believe he had several reasons, though he confided none of them to Professor Dippet," said Dumbledore. "Firstly, and very importantly, Riddle was, I believe, more attached to this school than he has ever been to a person. Hogwarts was where he had been happiest; the first and only place he had felt at home."
Harry felt slightly uncomfortable at these words, until last year, that was exactly how he felt about Hogwarts too. Ginny seemed to pick up on that and reached over to take Harry's hand and gently rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb. With nothing but an expression her words returned to him. 'He went left, you went right.'
The Professor continued,"Secondly, the castle is a stronghold of ancient magic. Undoubtedly Riddle had penetrated many more of its secrets than most of the students who pass through the place, but he may have felt that there were still mysteries to unravel, stores of magic to tap.
"And thirdly, as a teacher, he would have had great power and influence over young witches and wizards. Perhaps he had gained the idea from Professor Slughorn, the teacher with whom he was on best terms, who had demonstrated how influential a role a teacher can play. I do not imagine for an instant that Riddle envisaged spending the rest of his life at Hogwarts, but I do think that he saw it as a useful recruiting ground, and a place where he might begin to build himself an army."
"Tell me you didn't hire the bastard?" Ginny asked pointedly.
"No, Miss Wesasley, we most certainly did not." For once Dumbledore's feelings seemed to match Ginny's. That was a first for Harry. "Professor Dippet told him that he was too young at eighteen, but invited him to reapply in a few years, if he still wished to teach."
"How did you feel about that, sir?" asked Harry, sounding very much like an investigator.
"Deeply uneasy," said Dumbledore. "I had advised Armando against the appointment — I did not give the reasons I have given you, for Professor Dippet was very fond of Mr. Riddle and convinced of his honesty. But I did not want him back at this school, and especially not in a position of power."
Ginny couldn't help but interrupt, and Harry loved it. "Dumb question, which job did he want, sir? What subject did he want to teach?"
"Defense Against the Dark Arts." the Professor admitted.
"Bloody hell!" both of the teens yelled.
Dumbledore snickered, "Again, we did not hire him." That seemed to be of little comfort to the youths. "So Riddle went off to Borgin and Burkes, however, Riddle was no mere assistant. Polite and handsome and clever, he was soon given particular jobs of the type that only exist in a place like Borgin and Burkes, which specializes, as you know, in objects with unusual and powerful properties. Riddle was sent to persuade people to part with their treasures for sale by the partners, and he was, by all accounts, unusually gifted at doing this."
"I'll bet he was," Harry said, then he looked over to Ginny and continued gently. "You're not the first ear he whispered into babe. Even before he enrolled he seemed to have some sort of magically persuasive voice charm."
"The son of a bitch hexed me first, then possessed me." Ginny deduced in a cold realization. "It wasn't my fault."
"No, Miss Weasley, the events of your first year were never your fault. If it has taken this long for you to come to this realization, I do offer you my ap-"
"Stop!" Ginny snapped with a raised hand. "The last thing I want is to discuss my first year with you!" she said as she glared at the headmaster. "You had a reason for summoning Harry, get to it."
"Well," said Dumbledore, with a faint smile. "Harry, you certainly have chosen a strong and loyal partner." He took a breath and returned to the matter at hand. He took his wand and touched the pensive on one side and with it and his hand on the other. As he spread apart the pensive circle winded. "Miss Weasley, I trust Harry has briefed you on how these work?" Ginny nodded.
"Now it is time to hear from Hokey the house-elf, who worked for a very old, very rich witch by the name of Hepzibah Smith."
Dumbledore tapped a bottle with his wand, the cork flew out, and he tipped the swirling memory into the Pensieve, saying as he did so,
"Normally I would say ladies first, but considering experience, Harry, why don't you take the lead?"
They rose from their seats and Harry reached out and took Ginny's hand who nodded her readiness. They bent over the rippling silver contents of the stone basin until his face touched them.
They tumbled through dark nothingness and landed in a sitting room in front of an immensely fat old lady wearing an elaborate ginger wig and a brilliant pink set of robes that flowed all around her, giving her the look of a melting iced cake. She was looking into a small jeweled mirror and dabbing rouge onto her already scarlet cheeks with a large powder puff, while the tiniest and oldest house-elf Harry had ever seen laced her fleshy feet into tight satin slippers.
"Hurry up, Hokey!" said Hepzibah imperiously. "He said he'd come at four, it's only a couple of minutes to and he's never been late yet!"
She tucked away her powder puff as the house-elf straightened up. The top of the elf 's head barely reached the seat of Hepzibah's chair, and her papery skin hung off her frame just like the crisp linen sheet she wore draped like a toga.
"How do I look?" said Hepzibah, turning her head to admire the various angles of her face in the mirror.
""Lovely, madam," squeaked Hokey.
Harry could only assume that it was down in Hokey's contract that she must lie through her teeth when asked this question, because Hepzibah Smith looked a long way from lovely in his opinion.
A tinkling doorbell rang and both the mistress and elf jumped.
"Quick, quick, he's here, Hokey!" cried Hepzibah and the elf scurried out of the room, which was so crammed with objects that it was difficult to see how anybody could navigate their way across it without knocking over at least a dozen things: There were cabinets full of little lacquered boxes, cases full of gold-embossed books, shelves of orbs and celestial globes, and many flourishing potted plants in brass containers. In fact, the room looked like a cross between a magical antique shop and a conservatory.
The house-elf returned within minutes, followed by a tall young man none of them had any difficulty in recognizing as Riddle. He was plainly dressed in a black suit; his hair was a little longer than it had been at school and his cheeks were hollowed, but all of this suited him; he looked more handsome than ever. He picked his way through the cramped room with an air that showed he had visited many times before and bowed low over Hepzibah's fat little hand, brushing it with his lips.
Harry was already standing beside Ginny. Now he reached out to take her hand. He didn't even need to ask the question, his expression did.
So much so Ginny answered. "I'm fine. Thank you though. This is just a memory, and I've already beat him."
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at the couple. Which was met with a look of ire from Harry. The Professor put his attention back to memory at hand.
"I brought you flowers," Riddle said quietly, producing a bunch of roses from nowhere.
"You naughty boy, you shouldn't have!" squealed old Hepzibah, though Harry noticed that she had an empty vase standing ready on the nearest little table. "You do spoil this old lady, Tom. . . . Sit down, sit down. . . . Where's Hokey? Ah . . ."
The house-elf had come dashing back into the room carrying a tray of little cakes, which she set at her mistress's elbow.
"Help yourself, Tom," said Hepzibah, "I know how you love my cakes. Now, how are you? You look pale. They overwork you at that shop, I've said it a hundred times. . . ."
Riddle smiled mechanically and Hepzibah simpered.
"Well, what's your excuse for visiting this time?" she asked, batting her lashes.
"Mr. Burke would like to make an improved offer for the goblin-made armor," said Riddle.
"Five hundred Galleons, he feels it is a more than fair —"
"Now, now, not so fast, or I'll think you're only here for my trinkets!" pouted Hepzibah.
"I am ordered here because of them," said Riddle quietly. "I am only a poor assistant, madam, who must do as he is told. Mr. Burke wishes me to inquire —"
"Oh, Mr. Burke, phooey!" said Hepzibah, waving a little hand.
"I've something to show you that I've never shown Mr. Burke! Can you keep a secret, Tom? Will you promise you won't tell Mr. Burke I've got it? He'd never let me rest if he knew I'd shown it to you, and I'm not selling, not to Burke, not to anyone! But you, Tom, you'll appreciate it for its history, not how many Galleons you can get for it."
"I'd be glad to see anything Miss Hepzibah shows me," said Riddle quietly, and Hepzibah gave another girlish giggle.
"I had Hokey bring it out for me. . . . Hokey, where are you? I want to show Mr. Riddle our finest treasure. . . . In fact, bring both, while you're at it. . . ."
"Here, madam," squeaked the house-elf, and Harry saw two leather boxes, one on top of the other, moving across the room as if of their own volition, though he knew the tiny elf was holding them over her head as she made her way between tables, pouffes, and footstools.
"Now," said Hepzibah happily, taking the boxes from the elf, laying them in her lap, and preparing to open the topmost one, "I think you'll like this, Tom. . . . Oh, if my family knew I was showing you. . . . They can't wait to get their hands on this!"
Harry nodded and led Ginny to get a closer look. "It may be just a memory, but their best used for scout work."
Hepzibah opened the lid. Harry and Ginny both edged forward a little to get a better view. It was Hufflepuff's cup.
"I wonder whether you know what it is, Tom? Pick it up, have a good look!" whispered Hepzibah, and Riddle stretched out a long-fingered hand and lifted the cup by one handle out of its snug silken wrappings. Harry thought he saw a red gleam in his dark eyes. His greedy expression was curiously mirrored on Hepzibah's face, except that her tiny eyes were fixed upon Riddle's handsome features.
"A badger," murmured Riddle, examining the engraving upon the cup. "Then this was?"
"Helga Hufflepuff 's, as you very well know, you clever boy!" said Hepzibah, leaning forward with a loud creaking of corsets and actually pinching his hollow cheek. "Didn't I tell you I was distantly descended? This has been handed down in the family for years and years. Lovely, isn't it? And all sorts of powers it's supposed to possess too, but I haven't tested them thoroughly, I just keep it nice and safe in here. . . ."
She hooked the cup back off Riddle's long forefinger and restored it gently to its box, too intent upon settling it carefully back into position to notice the shadow that crossed Riddle's face as the cup was taken away.
"Now then," said Hepzibah happily, "where's Hokey? Oh yes, there you are — take that away now, Hokey." The elf obediently took the boxed cup, and Hepzibah turned her attention to the much flatter box in her lap.
"I think you'll like this even more, Tom," she whispered. "Lean in a little, dear boy, so you can see. . . . Of course, Burke knows I've got this one, I bought it from him, and I daresay he'd love to get it back when I'm gone. . . ."
She slid back the fine filigree clasp and flipped open the box. There upon the smooth crimson velvet lay a heavy golden locket. Ginny looked at Harry. Harry nodded affirmatively. Dumbledore looked again at Harry and Ginny with curiosity. Harry again met his gaze… almost with challenge. Dumbledore let it pass.
Riddle reached out his hand, without invitation this time, and held it up to the light, staring at it.
"Slytherin's mark," he said quietly, as the light played upon an ornate, serpentine S.
"That's right!" said Hepzibah, delighted, apparently, at the sight of Riddle gazing at her locket, transfixed. "I had to pay an arm and a leg for it, but I couldn't let it pass, not a real treasure like that, I had to have it for my collection. Burke bought it, apparently, from a ragged-looking woman who seemed to have stolen it, but had no idea of its true value —"
There was no mistaking it this time: Riddle's eyes flashed scarlet at the words, and Harry saw his knuckles whiten on the locket's chain.
"— I daresay Burke paid her a pittance but there you are. . . . Pretty, isn't it? And again, all kinds of powers are attributed to it, though I just keep it nice and safe. . . ."
She reached out to take the locket back. For a moment, Harry thought Riddle was not going to let go of it, but then it had slid through his fingers and was back in its red velvet cushion.
"So there you are, Tom, dear, and I hope you enjoyed that!"
She looked him full in the face and for the first time, Harry saw her foolish smile falter.
"Are you all right, dear?"
"Oh yes," said Riddle quietly. "Yes, I'm very well. . . ."
"I thought — but a trick of the light, I suppose —" said Hepzibah, looking unnerved, and Harry guessed that she too had seen the momentary red gleam in Riddle's eyes. "Here, Hokey, take these away and lock them up again. . . . The usual enchantments . . ."
"Time to leave, everyone," said Dumbledore quietly, and as the little elf bobbed away bearing the boxes, Dumbledore grasped Harry took The professor's arm above the elbow and held Ginny's hand as together they rose up through oblivion and back to Dumbledore's office.
"Hepzibah Smith died two days after that little scene," said Dumbledore, resuming his seat and indicating that Harry and Ginny should do the same. "Hokey the house-elf was convicted by the Ministry of poisoning her mistress's evening cocoa by accident."
"Bullshit!" Ginny said plainly. Harry simply pointed at Ginny and nodded in agreement.
"I see we are of one mind," said Dumbledore. "Certainly, there are many similarities between this death and that of the elder Riddles. In both cases, somebody else took the blame, someone who had a clear memory of having caused the death —"
"Hokey confessed?" Ginny asked.
"Riddle's charm, he's that bloody good." Harry explained.
"Son of a bitch."
Dumbledore shook his head and smiled but continued. "Yes, that is my conclusion too. She remembered putting something in her mistress's cocoa that turned out not to be sugar, but a lethal and little-known poison," said Dumbledore. "It was concluded that she had not meant to do it, but being old and confused she admitted to having tampered with the drink, and nobody at the Ministry bothered to inquire further.
"Damn to hell!" Ginny said, then looked over to Harry. "Tell me when you get the badge, you will look into things more."
"Agreed babe, very much agreed."
The Professor continued, "As in the case of Morfin, by the time I traced her and managed to extract this memory, her life was almost over — but her memory, of course, proves nothing except that Riddle knew of the existence of the cup and the locket.
"By the time Hokey was convicted, Hepzibah's family suspected that two of her greatest treasures were missing. It took them a while to be sure of this, for she had many hiding places, having always guarded her collection most jealously. But before they were sure beyond doubt that the cup and the locket were both gone. Coincedentally, the assistant who had worked at Borgin and Burkes, the young man who had visited Hepzibah so regularly and charmed her so well, had resigned his post and vanished. His superiors had no idea where he had gone; they were as surprised as anyone at his disappearance. And that was the last that was seen or heard of Tom Riddle for a very long time."
"Now," said Dumbledore, "if you don't mind, I want to pause once more to draw your attention to certain points of our story. Riddle had committed another murder; whether it was his first since he killed the Riddles, I do not know, but I think it was. This time, as you will have seen, he killed not for revenge, but for gain. He wanted the two fabulous trophies that poor, besotted, old woman showed him. Just as he had once robbed the other children at his orphanage, just as he had stolen his Uncle Morfin's ring, so he ran off now with Hepzibah's cup and locket."
"He was after relics of Hogwarts founders." Harry summarized.
"Impressive reasoning Harry. I will say again, you will make a fine auror," said Dumbledore. "I think he still felt a great pull toward the school and that he could not resist an object so steeped in Hogwarts history. And now for the next recollection I have to show you, the last I have seen already."
"Ten years separates Hokey's memory and this one, ten years during which we can only guess at what Riddle was doing. . . ."
Harry got to his feet once more and offered a hand to Ginny as Dumbledore emptied the last memory into the Pensieve.
"Whose memory is it?" she asked.
"Mine," said Dumbledore.
Harry and Ginny both rolled their eyes then accepted their fates as they fell through the shifting silver mass, landing in the very office he had just left. There was Fawkes slumbering happily on his perch, and there behind the desk was Dumbledore, who looked very similar to the Dumbledore standing beside Harry and Hinny, though both hands were whole and undamaged and his face was, perhaps, a little less lined. The one difference between the present-day office and this one was that it was snowing in the past; bluish flecks were drifting past the window in the dark and building up on the outside ledge.
The younger Dumbledore seemed to be waiting for something, and sure enough, moments after their arrival, there was a knock on the door and he said, "Enter."
Harry let out a hastily stifled gasp. Riddle had entered the room. His features were not those Harry had seen emerge from the great stone cauldron almost two years ago: They were not as snake like, the eyes were not yet scarlet, the face not yet masklike, and yet he was no longer handsome Tom Riddle. It was as though his features had been burned and blurred; they were waxy and oddly distorted, and the whites of the eyes now had a permanently bloody look, though the pupils were not yet the slits that Harry knew they would become. He was wearing a long black cloak, and his face was as pale as the snow glistening on his shoulders. Finally Lord Voldemort had without question arrived. He looked at Ginny who was staring daggers at the man who would be lord. Harry didn't blame her.
The Dumbledore behind the desk showed no sign of surprise. Evidently this visit had been made by appointment.
"Good evening, Tom," said Dumbledore easily. "Won't you sit down?"
"Thank you," said Voldemort, and he took the seat to which Dumbledore had gestured — the very seat, by the looks of it, that Harry had just vacated in the present. "I heard that you had become headmaster," he said, and his voice was slightly higher and colder than it had been. "A worthy choice."
"I am glad you approve," said Dumbledore, smiling. "May I offer you a drink?"
"That would be welcome," said Voldemort. "I have come a long way."
Dumbledore stood and swept over to the cabinet where he now kept the Pensieve, but which then was full of bottles. Having handed Riddle a goblet of wine and poured one for himself, he returned to the seat behind his desk.
"So, Tom . . . to what do I owe the pleasure?"
Riddle did not answer at once, but merely sipped his wine. "They do not call me 'Tom' anymore," he said. "These days, I am known as —"
"I know what you are known as," said Dumbledore, smiling pleasantly. "But to me, I'm afraid, you will always be Tom Riddle.
"His name is Riddle." Harry and Ginny said again in unison.
Their Dumbledore released a small grin of amusement, while the memory continued. "It is one of the irritating things about old teachers. I am afraid that they never quite forget their charges' youthful beginnings."
He raised his glass as though toasting Voldemort, whose face remained expressionless. Nevertheless, Harry felt the atmosphere in the room change subtly: Dumbledore's refusal to use Riddle's chosen name was a refusal to allow Voldemort to dictate the terms of the meeting, and Harry could tell that Voldemort took it as such.
"I am surprised you have remained here so long," Voldemort said after a short pause. "I always wondered why a wizard such as yourself never wished to leave school."
"Well," said Dumbledore, still smiling, "to a wizard such as myself, there can be nothing more important than passing on ancient skills, helping hone young minds. If I remember correctly, you once saw the attraction of teaching too."
Harry and Ginny exchanged a look of mutual bemusement.
"I see it still," said Voldemort. "I merely wondered why you who are so often asked for advice by the Ministry, and who have twice, I think, been offered the post of Minister —"
"Three times at the last count, actually," said Dumbledore. "But the Ministry never attracted me as a career. Again, something we have in common, I think."
Voldemort inclined his head, unsmiling, and took another sip of wine. Dumbledore did not break the silence that stretched between them now, but waited, with a look of pleasant expectancy, for Riddle to talk first.
"I have returned," he said, after a little while, "later, perhaps, than Professor Dippet expected . . . but I have returned, nevertheless, to request again what he once told me I was too young to have. I have come to you to ask that you permit me to return to this castle, to teach. I think you must know that I have seen and done much since I left this place. I could show and tell your students things they can gain from no other wizard."
Dumbledore considered Voldemort over the top of his own goblet for a while before speaking. "Yes, I certainly do know that you have seen and done much since leaving us," he said quietly. "Rumors of your doings have reached your old school, Tom. I should be sorry to believe half of them."
Voldemort's expression remained impassive as he said, "Greatness inspires envy, envy engenders spite, spite spawns lies. You must know this, Dumbledore."
Again Harry and Ginny both rolled their eyes at the bullshit being laid before them.
"You call it 'greatness,' what you have been doing, do you?" asked Dumbledore delicately.
"Certainly," said Voldemort, and his eyes seemed to burn red. "I have experimented; I have pushed the boundaries of magic further, perhaps, than they have ever been pushed —"
"Of some kinds of magic," Dumbledore corrected him quietly. "Of some. Of others, you remain . . . forgive me . . . woefully ignorant."
For the first time, Voldemort, smiled. It was a taut leer, an evil thing, more threatening than a look of rage. "The old argument," he said softly. "But nothing I have seen in the world has supported your famous pronouncements that love is more powerful than my kind of magic, Dumbledore."
"Perhaps you have been looking in the wrong places," suggested Dumbledore.
"Well, then, what better place to start my fresh researches than here, at Hogwarts?" said Voldemort. "Will you let me return? Will you let me share my knowledge with your students? I place myself and my talents at your disposal. I am yours to command."
Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "And what will become of those whom you command? What will happen to those who call themselves — or so rumor has it — the Death Eaters?"
Harry could tell that Riddle had not expected Dumbledore to know this name; he saw Riddle's eyes flash red again and the slitlike nostrils flare.
"My friends," he said, after a moment's pause, "will carry on without me, I am sure."
"I am glad to hear that you consider them friends," said Dumbledore. "I was under the impression that they are more in the order of servants."
"You are mistaken," said Voldemort. "Then if I were to go to the Hog's Head tonight, I would not find a group of them — Nott, Rosier, Mulciber, Dolohov — awaiting your return? Devoted friends indeed, to travel this far with you on a snowy night, merely to wish you luck as you attempted to secure a teaching post."
There could be no doubt that Dumbledore's detailed knowledge of those with whom he was traveling was even less welcome to Riddle; however, he rallied almost at once.
"You are omniscient as ever, Dumbledore."
"Oh no, merely friendly with the local barmen," said Dumbledore lightly. "Now, Tom . . ."
Dumbledore set down his empty glass and drew himself up in his seat, the tips of his fingers together in a very characteristic gesture.
"Let us speak openly. Why have you come here tonight, surrounded by henchmen, to request a job we both know you do not want?"
Voldemort looked coldly surprised. "A job I do not want? On the contrary, Dumbledore, I want it very much."
"Oh, you want to come back to Hogwarts, but you do not want to teach any more than you wanted to when you were eighteen. What is it you're after, Tom? Why not try an open request for once?"
Voldemort sneered. "If you do not want to give me a job —"
"Of course I don't," said Dumbledore. "And I don't think for a moment you expected me to. Nevertheless, you came here, you asked, you must have had a purpose."
Voldemort stood up. He looked less like Tom Riddle than ever, his features thick with rage. "This is your final word?"
"It is," said Dumbledore, also standing.
"Then we have nothing more to say to each other."
"No, nothing," said Dumbledore, and a great sadness filled his face. "The time is long gone when I could frighten you with a burning wardrobe and force you to make repayment for your crimes. But I wish I could, Tom. . . . I wish I could. . . ."
Again Harry felt Dumbledore's hand close over his shoulder and Harry took Ginny's hand again, moments later, they were standing together on almost the same spot, but there was no snow building on the window ledge, and Dumbledore's hand was blackened and dead-looking once more.
"You okay Gin?" Harry asked and that clearly was his top concern.
Ginny nodded. "Just a bastard being a bastard, I'm fine. Thank you."
"That marks the end of the journey I have walked." Dumbledore nodded "Harry, this is where I look to you."
Harry reached in and took the bottle from his pack and he pressed it on the table. "For the record, I am not happy about what I - what we - had to do for this damn thing."
"Then your contributions are even more appreciated." the Professor said as he poured the memory into the pensive.
Once again they fell through darkness and landed in Horace Slughorn's office many years before.
There was the much younger Slughorn, with his thick, shiny, straw-colored hair and his gingery-blond mustache, sitting again in the comfortable winged armchair in his office, his feet resting upon a velvet pouffe, a small glass of wine in one hand, the other rummaging in a box of crystalized pineapple. And there were the half dozen teenage boys sitting around Slughorn with Tom Riddle in the midst of them, Marvolo's gold-and-black ring gleaming on his finger.
As they arrived Riddle asked, "Sir, is it true that Professor Merrythought is retiring?"
"Tom, if I knew I couldn't tell you," said Slughorn, wagging his finger reprovingly at Riddle, though winking at the same time. "I must say, I'd like to know where you get your information, boy, more knowledgeable than half the staff, you are."
Riddle smiled; the other boys laughed and cast him admiring looks.
"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 favorite —"
Several of the boys tittered again.
"— I confidently expect you to rise to Minister of Magic within twenty years. Fifteen, if you keep sending me pineapple, I have excellent contacts at the Ministry."
Ginny rolled her eyes in disgust. Harry simply nodded in agreement.
Tom Riddle merely smiled as the others laughed again. Harry noticed that he was by no means the eldest of the group of boys, but that they all seemed to look to him as their leader.
"I don't know that politics would suit me, sir," he said when the laughter had died away. "I don't have the right kind of background, for one thing."
A couple of the boys around him smirked at each other. Harry was sure they were enjoying a private joke, undoubtedly about what they knew, or suspected, regarding their gang leader's famous ancestor.
"Nonsense," 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."
The small golden clock standing upon Slughorn's 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 by tomorrow or it's detention. Same goes for you, Avery."
One by one, the boys filed out of the room. Slughorn heaved himself out of his armchair and carried his empty glass over to his desk. A movement behind him made him look around; Riddle was still standing there.
"Look sharp, Tom, you don't want to be caught out of bed out of hours, and you a prefect . . ."
"Sir, I wanted to ask you something."
"Ask away, then, m'boy, ask away. . . ."
"Sir, I wondered what you know about . . . about Horcruxes?"
Slughorn stared at him, his thick fingers absentmindedly caressing the stem of his wine glass. Harry and Ginny both watched intently, knowing full well this was why Harry had been assigned.
"Project for Defense Against the Dark Arts, is it?" Slughorn asked.
"Not exactly, sir," said Riddle. "I came across the term while reading and I didn't fully understand it."
"No . . . well . . . you'd be hard-pushed to find a book at Hogwarts that'll give you details on Horcruxes, Tom, that's very dark stuff, very dark indeed," said Slughorn.
"But you obviously know all about them, sir? I mean, a wizard like you — sorry, I mean, if you can't tell me, obviously — I just knew if anyone could tell me, you could — so I just thought I'd ask —"
It was very well done, thought Harry, the hesitancy, the casual tone, the careful flattery, none of it overdone. Harry had had too much experience of trying to wheedle information out of reluctant people not to recognize a master at work. He could tell that Riddle wanted the information very, very much; perhaps had been working toward this moment for weeks.
"Well," said Slughorn, not looking at Riddle, but fiddling with the ribbon on top of his box of crystalized pineapple, "well, it can't hurt to give you an overview, of course. Just so that you understand the term. A horcrux is the word used for an object in which a person has concealed part of their soul."
Ginny's expression fell very dark. Her hands rolled into fists. She walked up to Riddle and glared at him as the smug bastard smiled and damn near licked his lips. Harry stood and listened intently and watched Slughorn despite his own anger. He wanted to take his notebook out but he remembered this was a mental memory.
"I don't quite understand how that works, though, sir," said Riddle.
His voice was carefully controlled, but Harry could sense his sick excitement.
"Well, you split your soul, you see," said Slughorn, "and hide part of it in an object outside the body. Then, even if one's body is attacked or destroyed, one cannot die, for part of the soul remains earthbound and undamaged. But of course, existence in such a form . . ."
Ginny looked over to Harry who shared her look of rage.
". . . few would want it, Tom, very few. Death would be preferable."
But Riddle's hunger was now apparent; his expression was greedy, he could no longer hide his longing.
"How do you split your soul?"
"Well," said Slughorn uncomfortably, "you must understand that the soul is supposed to remain intact and whole. Splitting it is an act of violation, it is against nature."
"But how do you do it?"
"You dumb son of a bitch." Ginny whispered, realizing there was no stopping Slughorn.
"By an act of evil — the supreme act of evil. By committing murder. Killing rips the soul apart. The wizard intent upon creating a horcrux would use the damage to his advantage: He would encase the torn portion —"
"Encase? But how — ?"
"There is a spell, do not ask me, I don't know!" said Slughorn, shaking his head like an old elephant bothered by mosquitoes. "Do I look as though I have tried it — do I look like a killer?"
"No, sir, of course not," said Riddle quickly. "I'm sorry . . . I didn't mean to offend . . ."
"Not at all, not at all, not offended," said Slughorn gruffly. "It's natural to feel some curiosity about these things. . . . Wizards of a certain caliber have always been drawn to that aspect of magic. . . ."
"Yes, sir," said Riddle. "What I don't understand, though — 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 — ?"
Harry shook his head in disbelief. "There it is, fucking seven of them."
"Merlin's beard, Tom!" yelped Slughorn. "Seven! 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 Riddle as though he had never seen him plainly before, and Harry could tell that he was regretting entering into the conversation at all.
"Of course," he muttered, "this is all hypothetical, what we're discussing, isn't it? All academic . . ."
"Yes, sir, of course," said Riddle quickly.
"But 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," said Riddle, and he left, but not before Harry had glimpsed his face, which was full of that same wild happiness it had worn when he had first found out that he was a wizard, the sort of happiness that did not enhance his handsome features, but made them, somehow, less human. . . .
"Thank you," said Dumbledore quietly. "Let us go. . . ."
The very moment their minds returned from Slughorn's memory to their bodies Ginny rose out of the pensive with her teeth barred and eyes ablaze. Growling like a bear and reminding Dumbledore very much of her mother the summer before Ginny glared at the most powerful wizard in the world. "I will ask you this one time. You will answer plainly. Did you know?"
"I have been hoping for this piece of evidence for a very long time," Dumbledore said at last. "It confirms the theory on which I have been working-"
The Professor was cut off by Ginny's left hand cracking loudly into cheek, harder than any slap he had ever received. "You son of a bitch." Ginny turned to Harry with a look of pure ire. "He's known, or 'theorized'..." she mocked the last word "... that Riddle's left pieces of his soul lying around for years. Tell me Professor, when the hell were you going to warn someone?!"
Dumbledore looked to Ginny with an expression … of acceptance. "I will acknowledge I have made mistakes Miss Weasley. Likely I am owed far more than that. Fortunately, arrangements have already been made to repay-"
"Arrangements, what bloody arrangements have you made?" Harry asked in frustration. "And when did you make them? In fact, what the hell have you been doing, Professor?!"
Harry suddenly noticed that every single one of the old headmasters and headmistresses in the portraits around the walls was awake and listening in on their conversation. A corpulent, rednosed wizard had actually taken out an ear trumpet.
Harry spun around to all of the spectating painting. "What have any of you been doing? Gin and I have been fighting this damn war for months, hell, years!"
"How long?!" Ginny pounded the desk. "How long have you been theorizing about this? When?" she demanded.
Dumbledore paused for a moment, marshaling his thoughts, and then said, "Four years ago, I received what I considered certain proof that Riddle had split his soul." Dumbledore opened a drawer and pulled out a ruined leather bound book gouges in the cover and pages. He set it on the desk.
"You kept the fucking diary!" Ginny hissed in contempt. "Harry killed it and handed it to you."
"That was four years ago." Harry repeated. "You are supposed to be the smartest wizard in the world. What have you done since?"
"For many years I have made it my business to discover as much as I can about Riddle's past life. I have traveled widely, visiting those places he once knew. I stumbled across the ring hidden in the ruin of the Gaunts' house. It seems that once Riddle had succeeded in sealing a piece of his soul inside it, he did not want to wear it anymore. He hid it, never guessing that I might one day take the trouble to visit the ruin, or that I might be keeping an eye open for traces of magical concealment. I destroyed it."
"You have?" Both the teens questioned together.
"Yes indeed," said Dumbledore. From the same drawer he pulled out the band of the ring, its stone now clearly absent. He rested it on the diary. "The ring, Marvolo's ring. And a terrible curse there was upon it too. Had it not been — forgive me the lack of seemly modesty — for my own prodigious skill, and for Professor Snape's timely action when I returned to Hogwarts, desperately injured," and he raised his blackened, burned-looking hand, "I might not have lived to tell the tale. However, a withered hand does not seem an unreasonable exchange for a seventh of Riddle's soul. The ring is no longer a horcrux."
"And the Old Man is on the board," Ginny muttered as she took a seat again.
"But now, armed with this information, the crucial memory you have succeeded in procuring for us, we are closer to the secret of finishing Riddle than anyone has ever been before."
"You have no idea, Professor." Harry replied dryly.
"However, we should not congratulate ourselves too heartily. You heard him, Harry: 'Wouldn't it be better, make you stronger, to have your soul in more pieces . . . isn't seven the most powerfully magical number . . .' Isn't seven the most powerfully magical number. You destroyed the diary and I the ring, but if we are right in our theory of a seven-part soul, four horcruxes remain."
"Two." Harry corrected.
It was the cold certainty in which Harry spoke that truly captured the Professor's attention. "What?"
"He said we're down to two unknown horcruxes." Ginny clarified, in annoyance.
Harry sat forward. "You see sir. We already knew about the seven damn horcurxes, before we started term this year. And that's a fact that I would have let you know, if you had bothered to be on the level with me when we started in September. But everyone knows, Albus Dumbledore always knows best so you had to draw out four lessons over the course of seven bloody months. I - we - have been deployed to the front more often than that!"
The fact, the concept, that someone could be ahead of him on his horcrux hunt rattled Dumbledore to his core. Still… if anyone could be, it would be Harry. Softly, almost apologetically, Dumbledore asked, "May one ask, what do you know and how do you know it?"
"Finally asking the right question." Ginny jeered in victory.
Harry rose with his bag and put it on the corner of Dumbledore's desk. 'Last summer, when I inherited Grimmauld Place, I checked it out. There were two pieces of interest. The first was this," Harry passed along the book to the Professor. "That's the personal journal of Regulus Black who was involved with the Death Eaters. His final three entries go over how Riddle needed to borrow his house elf to place a horcrux. Regulus did enough homework to know they were evil and they were the key to Riddle's immortality. We thought they were just really wicken charms. We had no idea they were parts of his damn soul." As he leaned on the table he looked over to Ginny. "I don't know if that is better or worse."
"Hey, I am totally fine with killing him a piece at a time, as long as he is dead in the end." Ginny raised her hands to the air like she was preaching in the choir.
Dumbledore looked at her then back to Harry, who made no apology. "Yeah, my girl is a little passionate about this whole 'kill the dark wizard' thing." Harry dropped his voice an octave to a mock whisper. ""I like that about her."
"I heard that!" Ginny sang.
"You were supposed to!" Harry replied.
After reading the last few entries, Dumbledore attempted to regain some assembly of control he asked. "You said two pieces of interest?"
"Yeah," Harry said, as he non-chalontly reached in and pulled out the ruined Slytherin necklace. "That was in my house." Dumbledore picked it up and looked at it in awe and disbelief. Harry continued. "When we found that, it shocked me, and gave me a vision." Harry reached in and grabbed his folder of sketches. As he talked laid before Dumbledore "My vision told me the other horcurxes: A book, a ring, a locket, a cup, a tiara, and a snake."
He pointed to the diary. "Ginny remembered since we ruined the book with a basilisk fang, we could wreck them all. That was July. Well, I sure as hell wasn't just going to let one of Riddle's toys lay around my house, so I went to deposit it in my vault at Gringotts. But what do I discover there?"
Harry reached into the sack and pulled out the ruined cup and tossed it onto Dumbledor's desk. "Hufflepuff's cup. Both of those we kept under lock and key until term started and we could get our hands on another fang. Which we did, which we used. So as Gin likes to say that puts us at Team Potter: 3 but welcome to the game Professor. I actually am sorry about your hand. Maybe if you weren't so damn insistent on working solo. Even aurors discourage solo missions."
Ginny sat back and watched Master Potter emerge… now seemingly as if he already had the badge. A smile of admiration came to her face as not even Albus Dumbledore seemed to intimidate Harry.
Harry rose and slid and grabbed the sketch of the snake. "So that's four down. We know Nagini is number five. Given her proximity to Riddle, logic says we leave her for last, and we actually do have plans for her." Harry rested on his knuckles as he leaned on Dumbledore's desk. "Professor, let's be frank. You and I have had a rough go of it the last two years. Still I want to respect you. So there are three questions that I really need answers to." Harry reached over, grabbed the sketch of the tiara and held it high. "Where is Ravenclaw's Diadem?"
The Professor actually stopped and thought for a moment, seeming to choose his words carefully. "That is incredible work, Harry and Miss Weasley." He acknowledged both with a bow from his head. "I have been looking for a very long time. And it seems in less than a year you have surpassed my work in four. You have sprinted where I have crawled. You truly will make a fine auror, Harry."
Harry lowered his head to look Dumbledore in the eye and whispered. "Doesn't answer my question. Where - is - Ravenclaw's - Diadem!?"
Dumbledor nodded with respect. "I am sorry, Harry, I do not know. If I knew where a horcrux was, I would be fetching it now."
Harry's frustration grew visibly. He took a breath and exhaled slowly. "Fine, that takes care of two of my questions then. Last question, Albus Dumbledore, smartest wizard in the world, what is crying lightning?"
"What?" Dumbledore asked, acting as if he truly didn't hear Harry. Ginny groaned in annoyance.
Harry pressed on, jabbing his finger into the table. "My vision, which was proven accurate four times over, showed me that the seventh horcurx looks like lightning and cries like a baby. What the hell is it and where do we find it?"
Dumbledore calmly replied "firstly, no, Harry, not seven Horcruxes: six. The seventh part of his soul, however maimed, resides inside his regenerated body. That was the part of him that lived a spectral existence for so many years during his exile; without that, he has no self at all. That seventh piece of soul will be the last that anybody wishing to kill Riddle must attack — the piece that lives in his body. If my calculations are correct and far as time of origins, Riddle was still at least one Horcrux short of his goal of six when he entered your parents' house with the intention of killing you.
"He seems to have reserved the process of making Horcruxes for particularly significant deaths. You would certainly have been that. He believed that in killing you, he was destroying the danger the prophecy had outlined. He believed he was making himself invincible. I am sure that he was intending to make his final Horcrux with your death."
"I'm fucking honored." Harry said as he started picking up his papers and Regulus's journal.
"As we know, he failed. After an interval of some years, however, he used Nagini to kill an old Muggle man, and it might then have occurred to him to turn her into his last Horcrux. She underlines the Slytherin connection, which enhances Riddle's mystique; I think he is perhaps as fond of her as he can be of anything; he certainly likes to keep her close, and he seems to have an unusual amount of control over her, even for a Parselmouth."
"So he chose the snake as a replacement number six, fine!" Harry said as he raised his voice. "But just like I'm adding two more ruined horcuxes for the collection, I am telling you, there is a seventh, crying lighting. Work the case, sir."
Dumbledor raised his hand in objection, "Harry-"
"You…" Ginny stood in disbelief and annoyance at the headmaster. "You're supposed to be the leader of the light. You founded the Order of the Phoenix, both of them. You're supposed to have answers, guidance, something! But I look at the two of you, you hide behind a desk catching memories, moments before someone breathes their last. Meanwhile, Harry leads a team he assembled, to try to protect people from even getting that bad. I am sorry for your hand, but I've seen him in medical more than anyone should be. We have bled, sweated, and cried for this damn war!"
Harry paused for a moment to let Ginny finish. Her voice grew louder and more fierce as she did. "Harry has done everything you asked of him. He's done more than anyone should do, more anyone else could do. You meet in his house for merlin's sake! And when he tells you there's a seventh horcurx, after he's killed three of them, you correct him? HOW DARE YOU!"
Dumbledore tried to calm the lady. "Miss Weas-"
"NO!" shouted back. "Not after first year! Not after this year! Harry is the Chosen One," Ginny said with her arm fully pointed to her lover. "Not you! Harry's the one in charge, not you! Now he told you to get to work. Do it!"
Quickly they took each other's hand and marched out of the office, leaving the smartest wizard in the world to stare at four ruined horcruxes thoroughly confused as to how he found himself here.