Matilda Matlock

All Hypothetical

disclaimer: mature content.

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"You've done well, Matilda."

Dumbledore's low voice emerged quietly in the nearly empty, enormous office the girl stood in, the two positioned across from one another with her hand recoiling from handing the Headmaster the vile of Slughorn's memory.

She felt odd standing there as if she didn't have anything else to do, and she assumed Dumbledore noticed because he said, "I'd like you to stay, Matilda."

She looked back at him, for she had been glancing at the door before. He moved to the pensieve while speaking again.

"You ought to know what Tom Riddle told Professor Slughorn that night," he said, lifting the vile as he stared into the misty, blue abyss within the bowl. Matilda walked to stand beside him, stomach churning. "After all, it is absolutely crucial that we acquired this knowledge. Now, it shall be revealed to both me... and you."

The memory was now swirling the water due to Dumbledore's gradual tip of the vile above it, and soon, he looked at her and nodded, which signaled the girl to slowly dip her face into the mist and feel herself winding down, down, down into the memory.

She was soon back in that Hogwarts corridor, where Tom had approached Slughorn that night; only this time, it was the middle of the conversation, for the memory included Voldemort's true words...

"I came across a certain type of magic," Tom was saying, just as before. "I had never heard of it. And I thought I could ask you if you knew anything about this magic."

"What type of magic would that be, Tom?" asked Slughorn.

Matilda leaned in closer without realizing she was, eager to hear.

"It was called, at least, from what I remember..." the boy spoke, "...a Horcrux."

Matilda felt confused, but she expected this... yet, the way Voldemort said it made her heart pound uneasily. She turned to look at Slughorn.

His face was nothing less than unsettled... his brows had knitted deeply and his expression had melted from a nonchalant politeness to a concerned look painted over his usually friendly features. He looked uneasy. Very uneasy.

"Tom, I... I'm a bit nervous as to know what you may be reading," Slughorn said with a low tone in his voice. He sounded, just as he described, quite nervous to respond. "That magic is an incredbily dark practice, and I must ask why a student like yourself would be-"

"It's all curiousity, sir," Tom inturrupted calmly. "I was simply reading. I came across the term and thought I'd ask you about it... I fear the other teachers would misunderstand my intentions. I'm just interested as to know what it... means, exactly."

Slughorn visibly swallowed and shifted a bit on his feet, facing Tom a bit more with that same look on his face when he answered in a quiet voice.

"A Horcrux... is an object of dark magic that a witch or wizard has used to conceal a part of their soul. A sort of... protector, if one were to die... the soul within that item would be the saving grace for the person; in other words, a second chance at life."

Tom looked very serious and very attentive when he replied with a low, "so... it makes you immortal."

"Yes," Slughorn breathed. "Essentially. You are immortal."

Tom nodded once, looked at the floor for a moment, folded his hands behind his back, and looked back up before speaking again with a cocked eyebrow.