Harry Potter and the Secret Treasures - H.P.S.T Chapter 1459: Slughorn's Narration

Just like a Godfather, Riddle’s control over the school was enough for him to hide in the dark and implement his reign of terror.

Had he chosen to enter the Ministry for Magic after graduation, he would surely have become Minister — and perhaps even a dictator.

Evan thought that such a Voldemort would have been far more terrifying than the one they now knew.

Fortunately, Voldemort was never truly interested in being a godfather figure or a dictator. The political power so highly valued by almost every Slytherin was never his ultimate goal, but just a means for him to achieve a more purely evil purpose.

He never cared about the position of Minister for Magic, but let his clever Death Eaters seek such posts.

From the diary of the fifteen-year-old Riddle, it was clear that Voldemort’s earliest ambition was to make his name and presence known to everyone and feared by all.

Simply put, he was a man determined to become a Dark Lord, and in the end, he succeeded, becoming the most terrifying Dark wizard in history.

This might be related to his humble background and the idea of ​​​​standing out; something Dumbledore had shown them through earlier memories as well. The young Riddle thought he was different from everyone else. However, that was a long time ago, before he had come into contact with so much evil Dark magic.

As for now, Evan guessed that Voldemort’s deepest wish was to escape death and achieve true immortality, to transcend this world and become an eternal being.

In this pursuit, creating Horcruxes had once been his primary method, but it was far less than what the evil god could bring him.

Sure enough, the young Tom Riddle in the room politely declined Slughorn’s well-meaning suggestion.

“I don’t know that politics would suit me, sir,” he said. “I don’t have the right kind of background, for one thing…”

At his words, a couple of the boys around him smirked at each other, perhaps they already knew Riddle’s famous ancestor at this time.

As mentioned earlier, at this stage, Riddle’s most pressing ambition was to rise to greatness and become the Dark wizard whose name would inspire fear. His descent from Salazar Slytherin was a significant advantage, likely enough to earn the respect of many ancient pure-blood Wizarding families.

“Nonsense, Tom,” said Slughorn briskly, picking up another piece of crystallized pineapple. “couldn’t be plainer you come from decent Wizarding stock, abilities like yours. I don’t need any investigation to confirm it. No, you’ll go far, Tom, I’ve never been wrong about a student yet.”

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 heaved himself 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 out of hours, and you a prefect …”

“Sir, I wanted to ask you something.”

“Ask away, then, m’boy, ask away. …”

“Sir, I wondered what you know about … about Horcruxes.”

There was a moment of silence, and Slughorn stared at him with a little surprise, his thick fingers absentmindedly caressing the stem of his wine glass.   

“Project for Defense Against the Dark Arts, is it?” he asked deliberately, but it was obvious that he knew perfectly well that this was not schoolwork.

At no level of Hogwarts’s Defense Against the Dark Arts curriculum would Horcruxes ever be discussed — they were an absolutely forbidden subject.

“Not exactly, sir,” said Riddle. “I came across the term while reading and I didn’t fully understand it.”

“No … well … of course you wouldn’t … 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,” said Slughorn, “beyond the ordinary evil, ordinary wizards don’t know about it. In fact, let alone understanding, I guarantee that most witches and wizards have never even heard of this word.”

“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 —”

It was very well done, the hesitancy, the casual tone, the careful flattery, none of it overdone.

It was clear Riddle wanted the information very, very much; perhaps he’d been working toward this moment for weeks.

The Dark Lord — no, at this moment, Riddle was simply a brilliant, curious student eager to learn about Horcruxes.

Gifted, with a dazzling future ahead of him, clever in his flattery, and having chosen just the right moment — Slughorn wouldn’t refuse such a question from such a promising student, even if the topic was as dark as Horcruxes.

After all, what harm could it do?

He had probably never imagined that the boy before him would actually go on to create a Horcrux. But in reality, Riddle had already begun his research, likely spurred by the unexpected discovery of a soul fragment inside the ring — leading him to seek out Slughorn’s knowledge.

“Well, Horcruxes…” said Slughorn, not looking at Riddle, but fiddling with the ribbon on top of his box of crystalized pineapple, “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.”

“I don’t quite understand how that works, though, sir,” said Riddle.

His voice was carefully controlled, but from Evan’s more detached, godlike perspective, he could still sense Riddle’s excitement.

“Well, you split your soul, you see,” Slughorn paused, seeming to weigh the horror of the words, then continued, “and hide part of it in an object outside the body. Then, even if one’s body is attacked or destroyed, one cannot die, for part of the soul remains earthbound and undamaged. But of course, existence in such a form… is a terrible thing. Few would want it, Tom, very few. Death would be preferable.”

Although Slughorn said this, Riddle’s hunger was now apparent; his expression was greedy, he could no longer hide his longing, his longing for immortality.

“How do you split your soul?”

“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?” Riddle asked again.

“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 —”

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