All the Wrong Choices

I sat in the back of Potions as far away from Tom as possible and watched Professor Slughorn walk about the room animatedly, always over-eccentric about potions. He dismissed the class on the dot but called me up to the front as I was packing my belongings.

“Professor,” I greeted him, “You wanted to see me?”

“Yes, yes,” Professor Slughorn smiled, “Have a seat. Let's chat.” I sat down at one of the oak tables. Professor Slughorn took a seat next to me and looked at me expectantly, as if I knew what this was about.

“What's the problem, Professor?” I asked curiously.

“No problem,” Professor Slughorn responded, clearing his throat, “Actually, I wanted to see if you would be interested in becoming a member of the Slug Club.” I was taken aback by this offer and Professor Slughorn quickly continued on. “It's an academic club–”

“I'm familiar with it. Tom has mentioned it.”

Professor Slughorn froze. “Yes. He is a member.”

“I would be honored to join, Professor. Truly.”

“Great,” Professor Slughorn nodded, “We meet every Monday night at six.”

“Great!” I couldn't wait to tell my parents. “I'll see you then, Professor.”

“Miss Longwood,” Professor Slughorn stopped me, “There is something else that I wanted to talk to you about. I've heard rumors – rumors that I'm not too happy to hear, but rumors nonetheless. They concern you and Mister Riddle.”

“Oh…” I murmured.

“I know that it's none of my business, and I truly do not want to get wrapped up in student politics. I'm just giving you a word of advice, Nora. Don't get involved with that boy.” I looked up at Professor Slughorn in confusion. Tom was easily one of his top, most well liked students. I mean, Tom was head of the Slug Club, Slughorn's right-hand student. “Something isn't right with him. However dashing or handsome he may be, or whatever it is you teenage girls find attractive nowadays, don't give into it.”

“Professor, I thought he was one of your top students–”

“Riddle is exceptionally bright, but extraordinarily dangerous. Miss Longwood, you are too good of a person to get mixed up with someone like that. He'll only bring you down for the worse.” Just then a knock sounded from the doorway. Professor Slughorn and I both turned to see Tom standing in the doorway. I nearly jumped out of my skin. Had he heard any of that?

“Professor,” Tom smiled, “I was wondering if I might have a word with you.” Not waiting for Professor Slughorn to say yes or no, Tom invited himself in and sat down at our table. He tapped an hourglass, patiently waiting for Professor Slughorn.

“Ah, of – of course, Mister Riddle. Miss Longwood, if you'll excuse us.” I nodded and gathered my things from the table. I gave Tom no acknowledgment and hurried out of the room. I went as far down the hall as I could while still being able to eavesdrop on their conversation.

“What can I do for you, Tom?” Professor Slughorn asked.

“I was in the library the other day in the Restricted section and I read something rather odd about a bit of rare magic. It's called, as I understand it… horcruxes.” Tom responded calmly.

“I beg your pardon?” Professor Slughorn asked, clearly taken aback.

“Horcruxes. I came across the term while reading and I didn't fully understand it.”

“I'm not sure what you were reading, Tom, but this is very dark stuff. Very dark, indeed.”

“Which is why I came to you.” I slowly inched closer to the door.

“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.” Professor Slughorn explained.

“I don't quite understand how that works, sir.” Tom responded.

“Well, you split your soul, you see, and hide part of it in an object outside of the body. Then, even if one's body is attacked or destroyed, one cannot die, for part of the soul remains earthbound and undamaged. Of course, existence in such a form – few would want it, Tom, very few. Death would be preferable.”

“And how exactly does one split his soul?” Tom asked.

“Well, you must understand that the soul is supposed to remain intact and whole. Splitting it is an act of violation, it is against nature.” Professor Slughorn tried to reason against explaining any further to Tom.

“But how do you do it?” Tom asked, clearly growing impatient.

“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.”

“Can you only split the soul once? For instance, isn't seven–”

“Seven? Merlin's beard, Tom! Isn't it bad enough to consider killing one person? To rip the soul into seven pieces – this is all hypothetical, isn't it, Tom? All academic?”

“Of course, sir.”