Alexandra Dursley {Golden Trio}

Chapter 113 - Slughorn's Worst Memory

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 Al spent the next morning doing Magical Theory and Alchemy in the library with Hermione, before heading up to Dumbledore's office after lunch for their Voldemort lesson, as she now referred to them in her head. She knocked on the now-familiar wooden door and entered upon Dumbledore's call. "Al, how are you?" Dumbledore asked pleasantly from his usual place behind his desk.

 "Good, thanks, Professor," Al said. "You?"

 Dumbledore chuckled, "Very well thank you, Al. I have just the one memory to show you, but first, background." Al took her seat, as indicated. "Tom arrived at Hogwarts, and charmed most, if not all, of his Professors. He showed no signs of arrogance or aggression towards his fellow students. He gathered a group of what most would call friends throughout his time here, but as we have already discussed, I do not believe them to be so. These were the forerunners of the Death Eaters. There were always nasty events surrounding this group. One of which you are aware of - the opening of the Chamber of Secrets. But no proof could ever be found incriminating them.

 "I could persuade few who knew Tom Riddle during his time at Hogwarts to speak of him. Those who would told me unanimously that he was obsessed with his parentage. Naturally, as an orphan.

 "I collected a memory from one Morfin Gaunt, however it is mostly spoken in parseltongue, and I fear it will not be particularly enriching for you, so I will summarise. Tom visited Morfin, where he wallowed in the Gaunt house alone, and letting both himself and the building grow into a state of disrepair.

 "Morfin told Tom how his mother was a witch, who stole Slytherin's locket and ran off with the Riddle who lived just over the hill in the big manor house. And then the memory ends.

 "Shortly after this, the Riddle family were murdered, with no traces as to the cause of death-"

 "The Killing Curse, then?" Al asked, interrupting.

 "Indeed," Dumbledore continued, "Morfin awoke that day and the Gaunt family ring was gone, but when the Ministry called upon his residence he confessed, rather proudly, to their murders, and gave a vivid account, giving details that only the murderer could provide."

 He finished, staring at Al inquisitively, who shook her head. "Doesn't make sense," she said quietly. Dumbledore remained silent. "Riddle killed them, took the ring, and modified his memory. He made a horcrux with that ring. Possibly using their deaths."

 "We're clearly on the same page," Dumbledore said with a stiff nod. "Morfin only spoke of losing that ring until the day he died in Azkaban. And now, I will show you another memory - possibly the most important one I have collected."

 Al stood and followed him to the pensive, plunging her head in as he did. She stood in a familiar room. A far younger Slughorn was sat there, his moustache significantly smaller, surrounded by a group of about six boys. Al instantly recognised the one to Slughorn's left as Tom Riddle, not only by his dark hair and polished cheek bone, but also the looks of admiration thrown his way.

 "Is it true Professor Merrythought is retiring?" Riddle asked.

 "I couldn't tell you even if I knew," Slughorn said, "What with your uncanny ability of knowing things you shouldn't, and careful flattery of people that matter-" Then, with a sudden rush, fog filled the room, and Al thought for a moment the memory had ended, but then she heard Slughorn's voice echoing around her. "You'll go wrong boy!"

 The fog cleared as soon as it had come, and Slughorn was looking at the clock. "Move along then, boys," he said, "I want your essays in by tomorrow or it's detention. Lestrange, Avery." Al realised with a twang of hatred that the boy sat closest to her was indeed Avery, and had the sudden and scarily violent urge to throttle him where he sat. But the urge was gone once she took a deep breath and remembered how she had bested him at the Ministry.

 All except Riddle and Slughorn had gone now, and the former turned to Slughorn with a expression of innocent curiosity on his face, though Al presumed it to be false. "Sir, I have a question," he said quietly.

 "Fire away m'boy," Slughorn said, in an all too familiar fashion.

 "I was wondering what you could tell me about horcruxes?" Riddle asked.

 The room clouded with fog once again, and Slughorn's voice ricocheted off the out-of-sight walls. "I don't know anything about horcruxes, and I wouldn't tell you even if I did! Now get out of here and don't mention it again!" And then Al was back in Dumbledore's office, looking around in great surprise.

 "Professor Slughorn told Voldemort about horcruxes?" Al asked, disbelieving, "But he's so nice! And an excellent Professor!"

 "Alas, sometimes even the wisest and most experienced of us make foolish mistakes, without thinking of what the consequences may be," Dumbledore said sombrely, "Professor Slughorn placed too much trust with somebody that he didn't see couldn't be trusted. But you saw the memory had been tampered with?"

 "Without a doubt," Al said, "The fog, the weird voice. And I'm not surprised."

 "I have delegated the task of getting the true memory to Harry," Dumbledore said, arching his fingers in front of him. Al resisted the urge to bang her head on the table in exasperation, and apparently this emotion showed on her face, because Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "You think I was wrong to do so?"

 "It's just..." Al tried to think of a way that she could phrase it without digging herself a deeper hole. "Harry isn't the most tactful, sir," Al said, "I think it would be better if I had a go? Or at least helped him?"

 Dumbledore sighed. "You don't trust easily, Al," he said, "I learned this early on, in your third year, when you continuously questioned my actions. It is understandable, of course," he said quickly, when Al frowned and made to interrupt, "You didn't trust your own parents after how they treated Harry. Why should you trust me; a complete stranger that you'd only spoken to on one occasion before? I am curious, though, as to how Remus gained it so completely? I am sure it wasn't without effort?"

 "I think it was though, Sir," Al said, thinking hard back to her third year, "Without effort, I mean. I think...he didn't seem to have any other motivations - except to help me. And it turns out I was right, because after three years of knowing him I'm yet to uncover such a plot as your own."

 "My plot?" Dumbledore asked, looking amused.

 "I had no soul, Harry's a horcrux, the prophecy..." Al listed, until Dumbledore chuckled. "Do you hear from him often, sir?"

 "Fairly, yes," Dumbledore said, his face and tone expressionless, "When he can afford to contact me regarding the missions I send him on."

 "Are-are they particularly dangerous, sir?" Al asked hesitantly.

 Dumbledore frowned. "Yes, although I cannot divulge how. But Remus knows what he's doing - I suggest you allow yourself to stop worrying."

 "Yes, Sir," Al said, biting her lip and feeling a bit sick. Even Dumbledore admitted he was in danger...

 "If you'll walk with me to dinner?" Dumbledore asked, "I'm particularly fond of roast beef, and I wouldn't want it to go cold."

 Al took this as her cue to drop the subject. "Yes, Sir," she said quietly, not feeling at all hungry as she descended the stairs.