Chapter Fifteen: After Hours
"There's a storm coming, Harry. And we all best be ready when she does." -Hagrid
For a little, all Azalea could hear was one pair of footsteps. They were walking around the room, back and fro - until a little 'TING' halted them.
"Look sharp, Tom, you don't want to be caught out of bed after hours, and you a prefect..." Professor Slughorn said. A second pair of footstep started echoing through the room, this one a lot softer. "Sir, I wanted to ask you something." Riddle's soft voice spoke, as she tried to look around the oaken door that was restricting her view. "Ask away, then, m'boy..."
"Sir, I wondered what you know ... about Horcruxes?" There was a suffocating pause. "Project for Defence Against the Dark Arts, is it?" The professor asked, although the tone of voice made it sound like he knew better. "Not exactly, sir," said Riddle. " I came across the term while reading and I didn't quite fully understand it."
"No ... well ... you'd be hard-pushed to find a book like that in Hogwarts that'll give you details on Horcruxes, Tom. That's very dark stuff, Tom. Very dark indeed." Finished Professor Slughorn. "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 -"
The performance was so brilliantly done, it truly made Azalea want to scoff in pure disgust. She would never be able to guess how the concept of murder came so easily to some people but the flattery, reluctance and facial expressions -all casually done to perfection, none of them overdone or suspicious, made him seem at ease.
"Well," said the professor, not looking Riddle in the eyes. "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," Riddle said, his voice carefully controlled though Azalea could still hear the excitement bursting through.
"Well, you split your soul, you see and hide part of it in an object outside the body. Then, even if one's body is attacked or destroyed, one cannot die," the professor finished. Azalea's eyes went wide. 'Why would you tell him that!' The dark-haired witch wanted to scream at the professor.
"...few would want it, Tom, very few. Death is preferable." Riddle didn't even acknowledge Professor Slughorn's warning. The greed in his eyes now completely exposed. "How do you split your soul?"
"By an act of evil - the supreme act of evil. By committing murder. Killing rips the soul apart. It is a violation against nature."
"Can a wizard only split their soul once - like for instance seven?"
"Merlin's beard, Tom!" The professor yelped, his voice raised in alarm. "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! Of course this is all hypothetical, what we're discussing, isn't it? All academic ..." the professor's voice sounded deeply trouble now. " Of course, professor. It'll be our little secret."
Azalea had been so immersed into the conversation, she didn't realize that she probably should of gotten a head-start on Riddle. She could hear his footsteps walking to the door as she spun around on her heels. Rocketing down the halls.
* * *
She was lucky to make it to the common room before Riddle did, but she still knew that he'd be just on her heels. There would be no time for her to race to her dormitory without him seeing her.
As her mind churned for ideas, the sound of the doors opening groaned through the room. Azalea's body was frozen to her spot but her mind was sorting chaotically through ideas to help her look less suspicious. Quickly grabbing the nearest book to her, she threw herself on the emerald love-seat and opened it.
"Up past curfew again for some late night reading, are we?" She heard his voice ask. As she turned to look at him, she could feel the adrenaline rush through her body. "And out again for a late night stroll." She said in more of accusation than curiosity. "It was for prefix duty last time. I needed to ask Professor Slughorn about something this time." Azalea's body tensed and it didn't go unnoticed by Riddle.
"You know," he said, also grabbing a book and sat down across from her. " ... it's very unladylike like to ease-drop on people's conversations," his soft voice said casually while flipping through the book. After hearing the words come out of his mouth, Azalea dropped the book she was holding as if it had just turned white-hot. "I beg your pardon."
Riddle put the book down and leaned forward in his chair. "You see, ms. Rosefield, that's the problem. I don't quite think you deserve my pardon." His eyes locked with her's. Azalea stared back, it was as if she just couldn't look away. "But don't worry," he said softly, leaning his body back into the chair. "I have ways of persuading people not to talk," he finished. His lips curled up into a half-smirk when he saw the frozen look on the witch's face. "Have a nice night, ms. Rosefield." He said, getting out of his chair and leaving.
This time, Azalea didn't follow suit. She remained petrified in her spot, unable to even think.