Tom wasn't keeping up with the conversation at Slughorn's table. It was the second Slug Club dinner and all anyone could talk about was Arabella's astonishing performance at trial's that day.
Tom had been there, only to see what the fuss was about. He didn't want to admit anything, but it had been quite enjoyable. Seeing Arabella play was fascinating - he had never seen a girl play. Or so ruthlessly and elegantly at the same time.
He wasn't stupid enough to make any bets, but if he had, he probably would have placed money on Arabella. He had never seen her play before the trials, but she was not to be underestimated in anything. Tom had learnt that the hard way.
Arabella's voice interrupted Toms thoughts. She sat beside him, all grace and poise.
Tonight she was wearing, yet again, another deep red dress. This one covered her neck, her arms bare from shoulder to elbow, where she wore silk black gloves. The dress was backless too, not that Tom had noticed. He also didn't mean to notice how beautifully styled her hair was. Her black locks were set in softly designed waves. They framed her face so artfully, Tom's gaze unintentionally lingered. Arabella seemed to embody an inhuman allure, and Tom had been captured in her bubble.
"Tom?" Arabella asked again, and Tom could hear the smirk in her voice even before he looked from her hair to her face.
He recovered quickly. "Sorry, Chambers?"
Her grin widened. "What did you think of the trial's today? Did you witness me make history?"
Tom frowned. He didn't want to admit to her that he had been there. He had intentionally sat in between the Hufflepuff's so that no one could see him there. He never bothered to show up for anything quidditch related, so why now? He still didn't know.
He would keep this to himself and keep his reputation intact. He still didn't know what had compelled him to go, but exposing himself would trap him in a whole other conversation he'd rather not be in. So, he just arched an eyebrow, feigning disinterest. "Quidditch, Chambers? Stupid. I find my time better spent on activities that actually contribute to intellect and influence. Unlike some, I don't see the appeal of chasing after a ball on a broomstick."
Arabella chuckled like she was in on a joke he wasn't. Like she knew something he didn't. Was it possible she had seen him there, in the midst of her chase with Malfoy? That would've been almost impossible.
"You're missing out on the thrill of the game, Tom. It's not always about chasing a ball; sometimes, it's about outsmarting your opponents, seizing the moment, and winning." Although she didn't take her eyes off of Tom, Malfoy shrunk into himself, as if she were talking straight to him.
Slughorn, who had been enjoying the banter between Tom and Arabella, chimed in with a hearty laugh. "Tom, sometimes you've got to let loose a bit, you know. Books are splendid, but the beauty of life lies in moments of joy. And tonight is a celebration! A celebration of triumphs!"
Arabella leaned back in her chair with a playful glint in her eye. "Professor Slughorn, you're absolutely right. Life is about savouring every moment, because when death comes, no one would want to have lived a boring life, stuck focusing on building an impossible future."
How dare she? Tom thought to himself. He still didn't know where her beliefs sat. She was talking about how his plan's for immortality were impossible, yet she had escaped death already. And it could not have been an accident. She did it on purpose. How had she dismissed a future of immortality "impossible" when she herself had already been brought back to life?
Tom wasn't going to back down from his plans. Instead, he was going to go through with them quicker than he had planned. Tonight, after dinner, he was going to linger behind and speak to Slughorn about the risk of creating multiple horcruxes. Tom had never heard of creating more than one, and he had to get another opinion, another source, to deem it say enough to go through with. This was his soul he was dealing with.
"Chambers, life's meaning is not found in the momentary joys. It lies in greatness, and not creating an ordinary life like any other person. Building a future may seem 'impossible' to those who lack vision, but for those with true ambition, impossibility is just a challenge to be overcome."
His eyes met Arabella's, a silent answer to her beliefs. He was not going to stop. He was going to succeed immortality. The day she died again, and permanently, was going to be the day he celebrated how wrong she was.
Slughorn, who decided the conversation was taking an unexpected turn, raised his glass with a shaky smile. "Indeed! You are both correct! Now let us continue with our celebration!"
As the atmosphere shifted back to the celebration, Arabella words, like an irritating echo, lingered in Tom's mind. Her resistance instead pushed him to prove her wrong. He had never felt the need to prove anyone wrong before, because he knew he was always right, but for some reason, Arabella made Tom act differently. Maybe it was the fact that she had done the very thing he was hoping to do, or maybe it was because she was so powerful. He wasn't sure.
Tom took another bite of his dinner. It was tasty, like all the food at Slughorn's dinners were. He never liked eating in the Great Hall surrounded by everyone else, which is why no-one ever saw him there. Instead, he preferred to eat before or after the main meal times, in an attempt to avoid the crowds. If he was going to become immortal, he was not going to sacrifice his nutrients. Staying healthy meant he was stronger than everyone. And that was his goal.
Arabella, though, didn't care, as if the world could end tomorrow and all she would be worried about is what she ate before she died. She was eating, at all times. He eyed her as she ate spoonful after spoonful. And then some. When dessert arrived, a grin lit up her face. Nothing was stopping her. Not even Tom's judgemental looks.
•••
Arabella had noticed the ring the moment she had walked in late, some sort of mental magnet pulling her to it. The band was gold and intricately adorned with twisting filigree patterns. And right in the centre of the ring was a large black stone with a triangular symbol engraved onto it.
She hadn't seen the ring in years, not since it was created and eventually passed into the Gaunt family and Arabella had foolishly stolen it for herself. She had never actually used it to see her mother and brother, but had almost done so. She knew they did not belong in the mortal world, she knew the effects of the stone, she knew she could not do that to her family. So, she eventually returned it to the Gaunts before it turned her mad with the need to see Mama and Finn.
Now, that need did not swirl within her as it once did. Arabella had gone through too much to put her trust into some cursed stone.
Every time she eyed Tom spinning it around his finger, Arabella wondered why on Earth he was even wearing it, until she finally realised that Tom probably didn't know the true power of the stone. Tom Riddle was oblivious. He had no clue what the Deathly Hallows were. To him, the ring was a mere trophy he collected after killing his muggle family.
He hadn't worn it before tonight, which made Arabella wonder why. Maybe he thought she knew what the ring truly was, maybe he thought she'd question him or take it away from him. Arabella didn't really care, though. He could figure out the truth on his own. He could do whatever he wanted with it.
She wanted nothing to do with The Resurrection Stone.
•••
The dinner dragged on for longer than necessary, and when it was finally time to head off, Tom lingered back. Slughorn had his back to him, not yet noticing the young boy who stood in the shadows. The room was deathly quiet, as if it knew what was coming.
Arabella could guess. She stood in the darkness outside the room, being careful not to get caught as she peaked in. She had left when everyone else did, but when she saw that Tom wasn't amongst the crowd, she had walked back.
Slughorn heard some movement behind him and turned around, coming face to face with Tom.
"Look sharp, Tom, you don't want to be caught out of bed after hours, and you are a prefect..." He was met with the same silence that enclosed the room. "Is there something on your mind?" he asked, concerned.
Tom paced the room casually, as if he were just here to have a normal conversation with his professor. "Yes, sir," he said, his voice a velvety murmur that wrapped around Slughorn like a serpent. "I wondered what you know about..." He stopped to face the professor. "About horcruxes?"
Slughorn, normally confident and controlled, found himself uneasy. The mere mention of the word sent a chill through the room and the professor was sure he had misheard. "I beg your pardon?" His voice was quiet, confused... scared.
Tom looked into Slughorn's fearful eyes. "Horcrux," he repeated, unfazed. He kept up his act of interest and innocence. "I came across the term while reading and I didn't fully understand it."
Slughorn's eyes went wide with horror. "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."
"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 —"
He had planned this well. Arabella was impressed by his hesitancy, the casual tone, the careful flattery. Nothing was overdone. She could tell how badly Tom wanted the information. She had heard his excitement that night in the forest.
"Well," said Slughorn, not looking at Tom, but staring at the flames in the fireplace, "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."
Tom walked closer to Slughorn, saying, "But I don't understand how that works, Sir." The words played a sinister melody, catching the man in their enchanting web. They were carefully controlled, but Arabella could sense his eagerness.
"One splits ones soul and hides part of it in an object. By doing so, you are protected, should you be attacked and your body destroyed."
The boy leaned in closer, his words dripped with honeyed deceit. "Protected?"
Arabella felt a chill down her spine.
Slughorns voice wavered with fear. "That part of your soul that is hidden lives on... In other words, you cannot die."
The look in Tom's eyes was so haunting and emotionless it scared even Arabella.
"...few would want it, Tom, very few. Death would be preferable."
But Tom's hunger was now apparent; his expression was greedy, he could no longer hide his longing. "How do you split your soul?"
Arabella noticed how disarming Tom's charm was. Every word was measured, each phrase meticulously chosen to manipulate Slughorn and his perception of Tom. His eyes, dark and penetrating, locked onto Slughorn's with an intensity which made it difficult for the professor to look away.
"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?"
"I think you already know the answer to that, Tom," the professor murmured.
"Murder."
"Yes." Slughorn's eyes were filled with fear and disgust. "Killing rips the soul apart. It's a violation against nature."
"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 — ?"
"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 . . ."
Arabella could hear his heart beat faster and faster.
Slughorn looked deeply troubled now: He was gazing at Tom as though he had never seen him plainly before, and Arabella could tell that he was regretting entering into the conversation at all.
"Of course," he muttered, "this is all hypothetical isn't it, Tom? All academic?"
Tom gave Slughorn a small, reassuring smile. "Certainly, Sir. It'll be our little secret."
Then Arabella watched as Tom turned around and began walking towards the doorway where she hid. Looking at his face, she could see his ambition, his psychotic plans, the monster he was within. It had been dripped into every word he spoke, every step he took, every time he looked into Slughorn's eyes.
She zoomed away from her hiding spot, leaning against the wall in the hallway. She heard the door to Slughorn's office shut as she pulled out a cigarette.
Tom paused when he saw her.