Mia Potter was the other Potter. Looking almost identical to her mother, she was a force to be reckoned with. But there was only one person who could reckon with her, and his name was Draco Malfoy.
In which the youngest Potter twin finds herself fa...
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There was the much younger Slughorn, with his thick, shiny, straw-coloured hair and his gingery-blond moustache, sitting again inthe comfortable winged armchair in his office, his feet resting upona velvet pouffe, a small glass of wine in one hand, the other rummaging in a box of crystallized pineapple. And the half-dozen teenage boys from the previous memory were sitting around Slughorn with Tom Riddle inthe midst of them, Marvolo's gold-and-black ring gleaming on hisfinger.
Dumbledore landed beside Mia just as Riddle asked, "Sir, is it true that Professor Merrythought is retiring?"
"Now, Tom, I couldn't tell you if I knew, could I?" Slughorn said, wagging a reproving, sugar-covered finger at Riddle, though ruining the effect slightly by winking. "I must say, m'boy, I'd like to know where you get your information. More knowledgeable than half the staff, you are." The other boys laughed as Mia watched them. "By the way, thank you for the pineapple, you're quite right, it is my favourite, how is it you knew?"
"Intuition." Riddle smiled; the other boys laughed and cast him admiring looks.
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 heavedhimself 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 outof hours, and you a prefect . . ."
"Sir, I wanted to ask you something."
"Ask away, then, m'boy, ask away. . . ."
"Well, you see, the other day I was in the Restricted Section, in he library," Riddle said, using the same tone of voice Mia had when she asked Slughorn, "and I stumbled upon something rather odd while reading. Something about a bit of rare magic."
Slughorn's weak smile evaporated altogether as Mia watched them.
"Excuse me?" he asked as he looked at Riddle.
"Horcrux," Riddle said, "I came across the termwhile reading and I didn't fullyunderstand it."
"I'm not sure what you werereading, Tom," Slughorn said, "but that's very Dark stuff, very Dark indeed."
"Yes, sir," Riddle said, "which is why I came toyou. I mean no disrespect to therest of the staff, but I thought if anyone could tell me, it would be you."
It was very well done, thought Mia, the hesitancy, the casual tone, the careful flattery, none of it overdone. Mia had too much experience of trying to wheedle information out of reluctant people not to recognise a master at work. She could tell that Riddle wanted the information very, very much; perhaps had been working toward this moment for weeks.
"A Horcrux is an object in which aperson has concealed part of theirsoul," Slughorn said as Mia looked at him.
"Yes, I thought it might besomething like that," Riddle said. His voice was carefully controlled, but Mia could sense his excitement. "But I don'tunderstand how that works, sir."
"One splits one's soul and hides part of it in an object," Slughorn said. "By doing so, you are protected should you be attacked and your body destroyed."
"Protected?" Riddle asked.
"That part of your soul that was hidden, lives on," Slughron said, "In other words,you cannot die."
"How does one split his soul, sir?" But Riddle's hunger was now apparent; his expression was greedy, he could no longer hide his longing.
"I think you can guess the answer to that, Tom," Slughorn said as Mia felt sick.
"Murder," Riddle said as Slughorn nodded.
"Yes," he said. "Killing rips the soul apart. It is a violation against nature. After, one is never the same."
"Out of curiosity, sir," Riddle added, "can you only split your soul once? For instance, isn't seven the most powerfully magical number. . . ."
"Seven!" Slughorn yelled. "Merlin's beard, Tom! Isn't it bad enough to think of killing one person? To rip the soul into seven pieces. . . ."
Slughorn looked deeply troubled now: He was gazing at Riddleas though he had never seen him plainly before, and Mia could tell that he was regretting entering into the conversation at all.
"This is all hypothetical, isn'tit, Tom?" he asked, "all academic."
"Of course, sir," Riddle said, "and I promise I'll not speak of our conversation. It'll be our little secret. . . ."
He turned to leave the room, but Mia 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, twins," said Dumbledore quietly. "Let us go. . . ."
When Mia and Harry landed back on the office floor Dumbledore was already sitting down behind his desk. The twins sat too and waited for Dumbledore to speak.
"This is beyond anything I imagined," Dumbledore said, "in my life I have seen things that are unimaginably horrific. I know now, you will see worse."
"He succeeded, didn't he?" Mia asked as Dumbledore looked at her. Mia suddenly noticed that every single one of the old headmasters and headmistresses in the portraits around the walls wasawake and listening in on their conversation. A corpulent, red-nosed wizard had actually taken out an ear trumpet.
"Oh he succeeded," Dumbledore said as Mia sighed. "And not just once."
"He made seven," the ginger girl said, "didn't he? The most powerful magical number. But what are they exactly?"
"They can be anything," Dumbledore said, "the most common place of objects. A ring, for example. Or a book. . . ."
Dumbledore opened a drawer and removed the ring and Tom Riddle's battered diary.
"The diray?" Mia asked.
"It's a Horcrux, yes," Dumbledore said. "Four years ago, when you saved Ginny Weasley's life in the Chamber of Secrets, when you brought me this, I knew. This was a different kind of magic. Very dark. Very powerful. But until tonight, I had no idea just how powerful."
"And the ring. . . .?" Harry asked.
"Belonged to Voldemort's mother," Dumbledore said, "it was difficult to find and. . . ." he raised his blackened hand, ". . . .even more difficult to destroy."
"So, say you find them all and you destroy them," Mia said, "you destroy Voldemort?"
"Yes," Dumbledore said. Mia looked and him and narrowed her blue eyes.
"You found another one, haven't you?" Mia asked. "It's where you've been going,isn't it, sir? When you leave theschool."
"How did you know?" Dumbledore asked.
"You wouldn't leave the school unprotected while Voldemort's at large, unless you could destroy him," Mia said.
"You are your father daughter," Dumbledore said, "he was observant, just like you. And I think, perhaps, I may have found another. But this time I cannot hope to destroy it alone."
