November 8,1943

Being the adopted child of Professor Horace Slughorn wasn't the easiest thing. Despite being a Slytherin, he was utterly ignorant. It was almost annoying watching as a teenage boy somehow manages to outsmart an adult teacher. Pathetic.

After another boring Slug Club meeting, Tom Riddle decided it was the perfect chance to ask Slughorn a question that's been burning in his brain. He already knew most of what he was researching; he was just greedy for more.

Tom was scared of death, despite the fact he's not scared to cause it. He didn't want to admit it, but that was his one weakness. The one thing all living creatures eventually succumb to: everlasting sleep. He wanted to prevent that.

Desperate for a cure, Tom snuck around the restricted section of the library until he came across a certain type of magic. The Horcrux. Long story short, it was an "easy" solution for death.

"Can you only split the soul once? For instance, isn't seven—..." the cold, calm question rolled off Tom's tongue as if asking for something normal. "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?" Slughorn asks simply, shocked by the question, although keeping his composure. Tom turns around and smiles charmingly. "Of course, sir. It'll be our little secret."

The whole conversation was off. {{user}} could tell as they sneakily listened in. They knew he had to be up to something. No normal person walks into a room and asks about killing seven people to stay immortal. How could Slughorn not tell?