The new term started with a pleasant surprise for us sixth-years: a large sign had been pinned to the common room notice board overnight.

'APPARITION LESSONS

If you are seventeen years of age, or will turn seventeen on or before the 31st August next, you are eligible for a twelve-week course of Apparition Lessons from a Ministry of Magic Apparition instructor.

Please sign below if you would like to participate.

Cost: 12 Galleons.' 

"We already passed with flying colours, so we don't need to bother." Fred said boastfully as we joined Terry at the Gryffindor table for breakfast. 

"We'll just use that time without you two to do some market research on Banterful Bubotubers." George said, reaching into his pocket and producing a folded piece of parchment. He unfolded it as Terry and I watched, then sniggered as we saw the picture printed on the top of the page. 

The Banterful Bubotubers were little pods of powder which you would slip into someone's food or drink, and watch as the person's body erupted in painful boils. 

"But, hey," Terry turned to me eagerly, "this means we can finally start Apparating like these two soon!" 

Terry was not the only one to be excited at the prospect of Apparition. All that day there was much talk about the forthcoming lessons; a great deal of store was set by being able to vanish and reappear at will.

"How cool will it be when we can just -" Seamus clicked his fingers to indicate disappearance. "Me cousin Fergus does it just to annoy me, you wait till I can do it back... he'll never have another peaceful moment..."

Lost in visions of this happy prospect, he flicked his wand a little too enthusiastically, so that instead of producing the fountain of pure water that was the object of today's Charms lesson, he let out a hoselike jet that ricocheted off the ceiling and knocked Professor Flitwick flat on his face.

"Daisy and Terry've already Apparated." Ron told a slightly abashed Seamus, after Professor Flitwick had dried himself off with a wave of his wand and set Seamus lines ("I am a wizard, not a baboon brandishing a stick.") "Fred and George took them. Side-Along-Apparition, you know."

"Whoa!" Seamus whispered, and he, Dean, and Neville put their heads a little closer to hear what Apparition felt like. For the rest of the day, Terry and I were besieged with requests from the other sixth years to describe the sensation of Apparition. All of them seemed awed, rather than put off, when we told them how uncomfortable it was, and we were still answering detailed questions at ten to eight that evening, when I was forced to lie and say that I needed to meet a hookup, so as to escape in time for my lesson with Dumbledore.

The lamps in Dumbledore's office were lit, the portraits of previous headmasters were snoring gently in their frames, and the Pensieve was ready upon the desk once more. Dumbledore's hands lay on either side of it, the right one as blackened and burnt-looking as ever. It didn't seem to have healed at all and I wondered, for perhaps the hundredth time, what had caused such a distinctive injury, but didn't ask; Dumbledore had said that we'd know eventually. Harry and I linked arms as we stood in front of Dumbledore's desk. 

"I hear that you met the Minister of Magic over Christmas, Daisy?"

"Yeah." I said casually. "He's not very happy with me."

"No." Dumbledore sighed. "He is not very happy with me either. We must try not to sink beneath our anguish, Daisy, but battle on."

I grinned.

"He wanted me to tell the wizarding community that the Ministry's doing a wonderful job. Tsh." 

Dumbledore smiled.

"It was Fudge's idea originally, you know. During his last days in office, when he was trying desperately to cling to his post, he sought a meeting with you, Daisy, hoping that you would give him your support -" 

"After everything that piece of shit did last year?" I said angrily. "Er - sorry, Professor -" 

"I have gone temporarily deaf and haven't any idea what you said, Daisy." Dumbledore said, twiddling his thumbs and staring at the ceiling. 

"After Umbridge?" Harry scowled, used to me swearing by now. 

"I told Cornelius there was no chance of it, but the idea did not die when he left office. Within hours of Scrimgeour's appointment we met and he demanded that I arrange a meeting with you -" 

"So that's why you argued!" Harry blurted out. "It was in the Daily Prophet."

"The Prophet is bound to report the truth occasionally," said Dumbledore, "if only accidentally. Yes, that was why we argued. Well, it appears that Rufus found a way to corner your sister at last."

"He accused me of being 'Dumbledore's woman through and through.'" I said. 

"How very rude of him."

"I told him I was."

Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again. Behind me and Harry, Fawkes the phoenix let out a low, soft, musical cry. To my intense embarrassment, I suddenly realised that Dumbledore's bright blue eyes looked rather watery. When he spoke, however, his voice was quite steady.

"I am very touched, Daisy." 

"No worries. Big Rufus wanted to know where you go when you're not at Hogwarts." I said. 

"Yes, he is very nosy about that." Dumbledore said, now sounding cheerful. "He has even attempted to have me followed. Amusing, really. He set Dawlish to tail me. It wasn't kind. I have already been forced to jinx Dawlish once; I did it again with the greatest regret."

"Lol." I said. 

"Anyway, twins. I have three more memories to show you this evening, all obtained with enormous difficulty, and the last of them is, I think, the most important I have collected. So," said Dumbledore, in a ringing voice, "we meet this evening to continue the tale of Tom Riddle, whom we left last lesson poised on the threshold of his years at Hogwarts. You will remember how excited he was to hear that he was a wizard, that he refused my company on a trip to Diagon Alley, and that I, in turn, warned him against continued thievery when he arrived at school.

"Well, the start of the school year arrived and with it came Tom Riddle, a quiet boy in his second-hand robes, who lined up with the other first years to be sorted. He was placed in Slytherin House almost the moment that the Sorting Hat touched his head." Dumbledore continued, waving his blackened hand toward the shelf over his head where the Sorting Hat sat, ancient and unmoving. "How soon Riddle learned that the famous founder of the House could talk to snakes, I do not know - perhaps that very evening. The knowledge can only have excited him and increased his sense of self-importance.

"However, if he was frightening or impressing fellow Slytherins with displays of Parseltongue in their common room, no hint of it reached the staff. He showed no sign of outward arrogance or aggression at all. As an unusually talented and very good-looking orphan, he naturally drew attention and sympathy from the staff almost from the moment of his arrival. He seemed polite, quiet, and thirsty for knowledge. Nearly all were most favourably impressed by him."

"Didn't you tell them, sir, what he'd been like when you met him at the orphanage?" Harry asked.

"No, I did not. Though he had shown no hint of remorse, it was possible that he felt sorry for how he had behaved before and was resolved to turn over a fresh leaf. I chose to give him that chance."

Dumbledore paused and looked inquiringly at me, who had just remembered something. 

"But you didn't really trust him, sir, did you? He told me... the Riddle in the diary said, 'Dumbledore never seemed to like me as much as the other teachers did.'" 

"Let us say that I did not take it for granted that he was trustworthy." Dumbledore said. "I had, as I have already indicated, resolved to keep a close eye upon him, and so I did. I cannot pretend that I gleaned a great deal from my observations at first. He was very guarded with me; he felt, I am sure, that in the thrill of discovering his true identity he had told me a little too much. He was careful never to reveal as much again, but he could not take back what he had let slip in his excitement, nor what Mrs Cole had confided in me. However, he had the sense never to try and charm me as he charmed so many of my colleagues.

"As he moved up the school, he gathered about him a group of dedicated friends and a girlfriend; I call them that, for want of a better term, although as I have already indicated, Riddle undoubtedly felt no affection for any of them. His group of friends had a kind of dark glamour within the castle. They were a motley collection; a mixture of the weak seeking protection, the ambitious seeking some shared glory, and the thuggish gravitating toward a leader who could show them more refined forms of cruelty. In other words, they were the forerunners of the Death Eaters, and indeed some of them became the first Death Eaters after leaving Hogwarts.

"Rigidly controlled by Riddle, they were never detected in open wrong-doing, although their seven years at Hogwarts were marked by a number of nasty incidents to which they were never satisfactorily linked, the most serious of which was, of course, the opening of the Chamber of Secrets, which resulted in the death of a girl. As you know, Hagrid was wrongly accused of that crime.

"I have not been able to find many memories of Riddle at Hogwarts." Dumbledore said, placing his withered hand on the Pensieve. "Few who knew him then are prepared to talk about him; they are too terrified. With the exception of Emily Lancaster-Schofield's mother, Juliet Dumbledore." 

Dumbledore watched me and Harry with a smile as both our jaws dropped. 

"Yes, I have a daughter. No, she is not truly my family. I had a dear friend at school, who was a homosexual, and I donated my DNA to help her have children with her partner. Juliet, of course, did not have my last name legally; it was only on her birth certificate. She took her mother Loretta's name, Lancaster-Schofield, which resides with her own daughter Emily to this day. Of course, until she decides to marry your godfather." 

I sat back, stunned at this information. Wow, so Emily is technically Dumbledore's granddaughter? Weird... 

"Sir," I spoke up finally, "who's Emily's dad, then? She's never actually mentioned him to us..." 

Dumbledore inclined his head. "That is personal, and I think, if she decides to, she would rather tell you herself. But back to the matter at hand: Juliet graciously provided me with this first memory, but I warn you, Daisy, you might want to sit this one out. It involves Voldemort in intimate relations -" 

"No, sir, I'll be fine." I jumped in. "I can't run from the mention of him forever, can I? Besides, I want to learn with Harry." 

Dumbledore smiled again. "Very brave of you, Daisy. Now..." 

He tipped the contents of a small vial into the Pensieve, and the silvery mass swirled around inside it. Harry and I stepped up to the stone basin and bowed obediently until our faces sank through the surface of the memory; I felt the familiar sensation of falling through nothingness and then landed on a hard, stone floor. 

I looked around. Harry was standing beside me, and Dumbledore joined us a moment later. It was apparent what we were looking at: there, leaning over someone with his hand on the wall, was a boy - tall, pale, dark-haired, and handsome - the teenage Voldemort. 

We were in a Hogwarts hallway, somewhere along the way to where Slughorn's office was. Riddle had his hand resting against the stone wall, beside a girl his age who was the absolute picture of muted beauty. The girl, I assume Juliet, had deep brown eyes which flashed golden in the light coming from down the hall, and soft, wavy, waist-length auburn hair which was strikingly similar to younger Dumbledore's. Her lips were full and her face round, and I could admit she was hot - I'd tap that if I was in Riddle's place right now. My eyes trailed down her curvaceous body, watching as Riddle's other hand caressed her face, her arms as she folded them underneath her big-bosomed chest, her hips making her dress stretch as she leaned on one foot flirtatiously... 

"Daisy... you're staring." Harry muttered, and I jumped. 

"What do you say we pass up Slughorn's celebration and simply stay out here instead?" Riddle purred as he stared down at the shapely girl, who batted her eyelashes up at him. 

"Oh, darling... I'd love nothing more." Juliet breathed. Riddle smirked, leaning down and capturing her lips in a long, slow kiss. I looked away, uncomfortable, and Harry took my hand, squeezing it hard. 

There was a soft wet noise as the two broke apart, and they were back to smirking and making eyes at each other. "You know, sugar... I have been wanting to take this relationship further." Riddle purred, his hand trailing down to play with the end of Juliet's dress. 

Juliet giggled in a very girly way. "We already have, darling. I still cannot walk properly after yesterday evening." 

"Christ." I muttered. 

"I want to take it further right at this moment." Riddle grabbed Juliet around the waist suddenly, and set her on the windowsill next to them. His lips connected with hers again, and I looked away, waiting it out until Riddle moved in between Juliet's legs, spreading them apart with his hands. I heard the sound of a belt unbuckling, and I took a deep breath, willing myself to stay calm and not think about Riddle's belt unbuckling behind me. 

Juliet was then moaning breathily, and I thanked Godric that it was too dark to see much of anything. 

"Oh, Tom..." 

I saw Riddle thrust extra hard out of the corner of my eye, and Juliet let out a noise that sounded more like pain than pleasure. 

"I have been wanting to discuss something very important with you, doll..." Riddle purred into Juliet's ear. Juliet tilted her head back, her eyes fluttering shut as she bit her lip. "Have you ever heard of anything named a Horcrux?" 

Almost immediately, Juliet stopped moaning. She sat upright, her big brown eyes now open wide and focused on Riddle's face. He had halted, and she looked alarmed. 

"W-what?" 

"A Horcrux." Riddle started thrusting again, slowly. Juliet looked like she was struggling with the urge to moan again. "I have been interested in the subject..." 

"I - I -" Juliet whimpered as Riddle rocked his hips, his hands moving from her hips up her dress. I saw the outline of his hands on her breasts underneath the stretchy fabric of her midnight blue dress. "Darling, that's not a good topic to be interested in. Please listen to me, it's not - mmm..." 

Riddle's fingers were moving underneath Juliet's dress, and he was pressed in close to her. 

"But baby-doll..." Riddle whispered seductively, kissing slowly down her neck. "I AM interested. I know you know a lot about this subject from your time in captivity as a child..." 

"Tom, no." Juliet said firmly, then squealed as Riddle jerked his hips hard into her. "Tom, darling, please... I don't want to talk about this... I don't want to remember..." 

"But you love me, doll..." Riddle leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to Juliet's lips. "... Don't you?" 

Juliet gazed into Riddle's darkened eyes, her own chocolate ones afraid. "Y-y-yes... All right. But all I know is that they are extremely dark magic, and it is very, VERY forbidden. Even the Dark wizards that held me did not want to discuss them very much. You might have more luck with Professor Slughorn, he is incredibly intelligent, after all." 

Riddle contemplated his lover for a moment, his expression rather like that of a salesman who'd just convinced his target to buy his whole stock. Then a triumphant smirk unfurled on his face, and he leaned down for another kiss, this time for longer and including tongue. I shuddered, remembering his tongue in my own mouth. 

"Thank you, sugar." Riddle breathed as he broke away from Juliet, stepping back. He grabbed the girl by the waist again, pulling her off the windowsill, turning her around, and bending her forcefully over it instead. "Now... where were we?" 

And Juliet's moans echoed around us as Dumbledore pulled us out of the memory. 

"Still feeling up for this, Daisy?" He said, his big blue eyes watching me. I nodded weakly. 

"That was sick." Harry said, his face pale. "Was that - was that how he treated you, Daze? Like, all rough and creepy and sinister? And..." 

"Transactional." I said. 

"Yeah." Harry confirmed. "Exactly." 

"He did treat me like that, Harry." I said, looking away from him. "But that's not what we're here to discuss, is it, Professor?" 

Dumbledore shook his head, and I was grateful for the change in topic. "Indeed. You both have most likely noticed that my daughter mentioned being captured by Dark wizards in her youth. This was for almost two years during a wizarding war; her mothers and I played important roles in this war, and Juliet was taken to bribe us. While captured, Juliet overheard her kidnappers briefly mention something called a Horcrux." 

"What is a Horcrux, sir?" I said immediately. 

"We shall get there in due course, Daisy. Now, Tom Riddle spent his teenage years getting into malicious mischief with his friends, and seducing and attempting to corrupt my daughter. Juliet could not give me any more memories as she is traumatised from her time around Riddle, however, she was courageous enough to supply me with the most important memory of hers that she had of him. 

"Now, since then, I could not find much about him. What I know, I found out after he had left Hogwarts, after much painstaking effort, after tracing those few who could be tricked into speaking, after searching old records and questioning Muggle and wizard witnesses alike.

"Those whom I could persuade to talk told me that Riddle was obsessed with his parentage. This is understandable, of course; he had grown up in an orphanage and naturally wished to know how he came to be there. It seems that he searched in vain for some trace of Tom Riddle senior on the shields in the trophy room, on the lists of prefects in the old school records, even in the books of Wizarding history. Finally he was forced to accept that his father had never set foot in Hogwarts. I believe that it was then that he dropped the name forever, assumed the identity of Lord Voldemort, and began his investigations into his previously despised mother's family - the woman whom, you will remember, he had thought could not be a witch if she had succumbed to the shameful human weakness of death.

"All he had to go upon was the single name 'Marvolo,' which he knew from those who ran the orphanage had been his mother's father's name. Finally, after painstaking research, through old books of Wizarding families, he discovered the existence of Slytherin's surviving line. In the summer of his sixteenth year, he left the orphanage to which he returned annually and set off to find his Gaunt relatives. And now, twins, if you will..." 

Dumbledore rose again, and I saw that he was again holding a small crystal bottle filled with swirling, pearly memory.

"I was very lucky to collect this." He said, as he poured the gleaming mass into the Pensieve. "As you will understand when we have experienced it. Shall we?"

We bent our heads, and landed again upon a dirty stone floor in almost total darkness.

It took me several seconds to recognise the place, by which time Dumbledore had landed beside me. The Gaunts' house was now more indescribably filthy than anywhere I had ever seen. The ceiling was thick with cobwebs, the floor coated in grime; mouldy and rotting food lay upon the table amidst a mass of crusted pots. The only light came from a single guttering candle placed at the feet of a man with hair and beard so overgrown I could see neither eyes nor mouth. He was slumped in an armchair by the fire, and I wondered for a moment whether he was dead. But then there came a loud knock on the door and the man jerked awake, raising a wand in his right hand and a short knife in his left.

The door creaked open. There on the threshold, holding an old-fashioned lamp, stood the teenaged Riddle. 

Riddle's eyes moved slowly around the hovel and then found the man in the armchair. For a few seconds they looked at each other, then the man staggered upright, the many empty bottles at his feet clattering and tinkling across the floor.

"YOU!" He bellowed. "YOU!"

And he hurtled drunkenly at Riddle, wand and knife held aloft.

"Stop."

Riddle spoke in Parseltongue. The man skidded into the table, sending mouldy pots crashing to the floor. He stared at Riddle. There was a long silence while they contemplated each other. The man broke it.

"You speak it?"

"Yes, I speak it." Riddle said. He moved forward into the room, allowing the door to swing shut behind him. I could not help but feel a resentful admiration for Riddle's complete lack of fear. His face merely expressed disgust and, perhaps, disappointment.

"Where is Marvolo?" He asked.

"Dead." The other said. "Died years ago, didn't he?"

Riddle frowned.

"Who are you, then?"

"I'm Morfin, ain't I?"

"Marvolo's son?"

"'Course I am, then..."

Morfin pushed the hair out of his dirty face, the better to see Riddle, and I saw that he wore Marvolo's black-stoned ring on his right hand.

"I thought you was that Muggle." Morfin whispered. "You look mighty like that Muggle."

"What Muggle?" Riddle said sharply.

"That Muggle what my sister took a fancy to, that Muggle what lives in the big house over the way." Morfin said, and he spat unexpectedly upon the floor between them. "You look right like him. Riddle. But he's older now, i'n 'e? He's older'n you, now I think on it..."

Morfin looked slightly dazed and swayed a little, still clutching the edge of the table for support.

"He come back, see." He added stupidly.

Riddle was gazing at Morfin as though appraising his possibilities. Now he moved a little closer and said, "Riddle came back?"

"Ar, he left her, and serve her right, marrying filth!" Morfin said, spitting on the floor again. "Robbed us, mind, before she ran off. Where's the locket, eh, where's Slytherin's locket?"

Riddle did not answer. Morfin was working himself into a rage again; he brandished his knife and shouted, "Dishonoured us, she did, that little slut! And who're you, coming here and asking questions about all that? It's over, innit... it's over..."

He looked away, staggering slightly, and Riddle moved forward. As he did so, an unnatural darkness fell, extinguishing Riddle's lamp and Morfin's candle, extinguishing everything... Dumbledore's fingers closed tightly around my arm and we were soaring back into the present again. The soft golden light in Dumbledore's office seemed to dazzle my eyes after that impenetrable darkness.

"Is that all?" Harry said at once. "Why did it go dark, what happened?"

"Because Morfin could not remember anything from that point onward." Dumbledore said, gesturing me and Harry back into our seats. "When he awoke next morning, he was lying on the floor, quite alone. Marvolo's ring had gone.

"Meanwhile, in the village of Little Hangleton, a maid was running along the High Street, screaming that there were three bodies lying in the drawing room of the big house: Tom Riddle Senior and his mother and father.

"The Muggle authorities were perplexed. As far as I am aware, they do not know to this day how the Riddles died, for the Avada Kedavra Curse does not usually leave any sign of damage... the exception sits before me." Dumbledore added, with a nod to mine and Harry's scars. "The Ministry, on the other hand, knew at once that this was a wizard's murder. They also knew that a convicted Muggle-hater lived across the valley from the Riddle house, a Muggle-hater who had already been imprisoned once for attacking one of the murdered people.

"We have no memories to show us this, but I think we can be fairly sure what happened. Voldemort Stupefied his uncle, took his wand, and proceeded across the valley to 'the big house over the way.' There he murdered the Muggle man who had abandoned his witch mother, and, for good measure, his Muggle grandparents, thus obliterating the last of the unworthy Riddle line and revenging himself upon the father who never wanted him. Then he returned to the Gaunt hovel, performed the complex bit of magic that would implant a false memory in his uncle's mind, laid Morfin's wand beside its unconscious owner, pocketed the ancient ring he wore, and departed."

"But how come the Ministry didn't realise that Riddle had done all that to Morfin?" I asked angrily. "He was underage at the time, wasn't he? I thought they could detect underage magic or some shit!"

"You are quite right - they can detect magic, but not the perpetrator." 

"So if you're underage and you do magic inside an adult witch or wizard's house, the Ministry won't know?" Harry asked, interested. 

"They will certainly be unable to tell who performed the magic." Dumbledore said, smiling slightly at the look of great indignation on Harry's face. "They rely on witch and wizard parents to enforce their offspring's obedience while within their walls."

"Well, that's rubbish." My brother snapped. "Look what happened here, look what happened to Morfin!"

"I agree." Dumbledore said. "Whatever Morfin was, he did not deserve to die as he did, blamed for murders he had not committed, alone in Azkaban. But it is getting late, and I want you both to see this other memory before we part..."

Dumbledore took from an inside pocket another crystal phial and we fell silent at once, remembering that Dumbledore had said it was the most important one he had collected. I noticed that the contents proved difficult to empty into the Pensieve, as though they had congealed slightly; did memories go bad?

"This will not take long." Dumbledore said when he had finally emptied the phial. "We shall be back before you know it. Once more into the Pensieve, then..."

And I fell again through the silver surface, landing this time, again, right in front of a man I recognized at once.

It was a much younger Horace Slughorn. I was so used to him bald that I found the sight of Slughorn with thick, shiny, straw-coloured hair quite disconcerting; it looked as though he had had his head thatched, though there was already a shiny Galleon-sized bald patch on his crown. His mustache, less massive than it was these days, was gingery-blond. He was not quite as rotund as the Slughorn I knew, though the golden buttons on his richly embroidered waistcoat were taking a fair amount of strain. His little feet resting upon a velvet pouffe, he was sitting well back in a comfortable winged armchair, one hand grasping a small glass of wine, the other searching through a box of crystalized pineapple.

I looked around as Harry and Dumbledore appeared beside me and saw that we were standing in Slughorn's office. Half a dozen boys and a girl were sitting around Slughorn, all on harder or lower seats than his, and all in their mid-teens. 

I recognized Riddle and Juliet at once. Juliet was the only girl, wearing the same dress as the other memory but in a deep red this time, her hair pinned up with two curled locks hanging around her face. Riddle's was the most handsome face and he looked the most relaxed of all the boys. His right hand lay negligently upon the arm of his chair; with a jolt, I saw that he was wearing Marvolo's gold-and-black ring; he had already killed his father.

"Sir, is it true that Professor Merrythought is retiring?" He asked.

"Tom, Tom, if I knew I couldn't tell you." Slughorn said, wagging a reproving, sugar-covered finger at Riddle, though ruining the effect slightly by winking. "I must say, I'd like to know where you get your information, boy; more knowledgeable than half the staff, you are."

Riddle smiled; the other boys and Juliet laughed and cast him admiring looks.

"What with your uncanny ability to know things you shouldn't, and your careful flattery of the people who matter - thank you for the pineapple, by the way, you're quite right, it IS my favourite -" 

As several of the boys tittered, something very odd happened. The whole room was suddenly filled with a thick white fog, so that I could see nothing but the faces of Harry and Dumbledore, who were standing beside me. Then Slughorn's voice rang out through the mist, unnaturally loudly: "- You'll go wrong, boy, mark my words."

The fog cleared as suddenly as it had appeared and yet nobody made any allusion to it, nor did anybody look as though anything unusual had just happened. Bewildered, I looked around as a small golden clock standing upon Slughorn's desk chimed eleven o'clock.

"Good gracious, is it that time already?" Slughorn said. "You'd better get going, boys, Miss Lancaster, or we'll all be in trouble. Lestrange, I want your essay by tomorrow or it's detention. Same goes for you, Avery."

Slughorn pulled himself out of his armchair and carried his empty glass over to his desk as Juliet and the boys filed out. Riddle, however, stayed behind. I could tell he had dawdled deliberately, wanting to be last in the room with Slughorn.

"Look sharp, Tom." Slughorn said, turning around and finding him still present. "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?"

And it happened all over again: the dense fog filled the room so that I could not see Slughorn or Riddle at all; only Harry, and Dumbledore, who was smiling serenely beside me. Then Slughorn's voice boomed out again, just as it had done before.

"I don't know anything about Horcruxes and I wouldn't tell you if I did! Now get out of here at once and don't let me catch you mentioning them again!"

"Well, that's that." Dumbledore said placidly beside me. "Time to go."

And my feet left the floor to fall, seconds later, back onto the rug in front of Dumbledore's desk.

"That's all there is?" Harry said blankly.

Dumbledore had said that this was the most important memory of all, but I could not see what was so significant about it. Admittedly the fog, and the fact that nobody seemed to have noticed it, was odd, but other than that nothing seemed to have happened except that Riddle had asked a question and failed to get an answer.

"As you might have noticed," said Dumbledore, reseating himself behind his desk, "that memory has been tampered with."

"Tampered with?" I repeated, sitting back down too.

"Certainly." Dumbledore said. "Professor Slughorn has meddled with his own recollections."

"But why would he do that?"

"Because, I think, he is ashamed of what he remembers." Dumbledore said. "He has tried to rework the memory to show himself in a better light, obliterating those parts which he does not wish me to see. It is, as you will have noticed, very crudely done, and that is all to the good, for it shows that the true memory is still there beneath the alterations.

"And so, for the first time, I am giving you homework, Daisy, Harry. It will be your job to persuade Professor Slughorn to divulge the real memory, which will undoubtedly be our most crucial piece of information of all."

Harry and I stared at him.

"But surely, sir," Harry said, keeping his voice as respectful as possible, "you don't need us - you could use Legilimency... or Veritaserum..."

"Professor Slughorn is an extremely able wizard who will be expecting both." Dumbledore said. "He is much more accomplished at Occlumency than poor Morfin Gaunt, and I would be astonished if he has not carried an antidote to Veritaserum with him ever since I coerced him into giving me this travesty of a recollection.

"No, I think it would be foolish to attempt to wrest the truth from Professor Slughorn by force, and might do much more harm than good; I do not wish him to leave Hogwarts. However, he has his weaknesses like the rest of us, and I believe that you are the only two people who might be able to penetrate his defences. It is most important that we secure the true memory, Daisy, Harry... how important, we will only know when we have seen the real thing. So, good luck... and goodnight."

A little taken aback by the abrupt dismissal, Harry and I got to our feet quickly. "Goodnight, sir." 

Harry and I split off in the common room, Harry making a beeline for Ron. I looked around, not seeing Terry or Hermione anywhere. 

"Damnit." I muttered. Harry didn't seem too concerned about it, but I really badly wanted to know what a Horcrux was, and if anyone would know, it would be Terry or Hermione. 

I made my way across the room towards the girls' dorms, and jogged up the staircase. I thought I heard Kylie's voice behind the door to her private room, and I wrenched the door open. 

"Ky, have you seen Her- OH!" 

I froze in the doorway. The sight of Hermione on her knees before Kylie's four-poster, her face in between Kylie's thighs, and Kylie's hands threaded through her bushy hair, made my heart skip a beat in a weird way. 

"Uh - I'll just, uh - go, then." I turned swiftly on my heel as Kylie's mouth opened, her eyes wide. I hurried away from the door, letting it swing shut behind me as I headed for the stairs. 

You know what? I'd been trying to slow down my intake of Percocet, but if I've got nothing else to do tonight, maybe I'll just take another one. Seeing Riddle being all seductive and shit was seriously messing with my head, and I needed to forget - I NEEDED to forget - 

"Wait - Daisy!" 

I turned again to see Hermione at the door, her face pink and her hair bushier than ever. She was licking her wet lips, her eyes locked on me. 

"Come - come in..." 

I shivered. I couldn't deny that I'd always found Hermione hot... and she was inviting me into the bedroom with my incredibly hot drummer ex... 

"... Okay." I said. Hermione bit her lip, grabbing my hand and tugging me into the room. Kylie was lounging back on the bed, holding herself up by her hands sprawled behind her, her school shirt unbuttoned, showing what was underneath. My heart pounded as my eyes dropped to Kylie's crotch. Her bare, exposed, naked crotch. 

"Why don't you get down there and finish what Hermione started?" Kylie purred, and my heart stopped. I stared at her for a moment, then I shuddered as I felt Hermione's mouth on my neck from behind, gently moving my hair away with her hand. 

Hermione's hands pressed down on my shoulders, and I sank to my knees in front of Kylie. I loosened my tie even further than it already was, scooting closer to her. Hermione got on her knees beside me and continued kissing my neck, her hands trailing down my body. 

I leaned in. My tongue made contact with Kylie, and she cursed softly, reaching a hand down to grab my hair. I eagerly licked more and more of her as her taste spread across my tongue, and the drummer pressed my face into her, rocking her hips against my mouth. 

Hermione's hands went underneath my skirt, and I moaned as her fingers sank into me. She fucked me slowly as I traced my tongue across Kylie's core, licking her up and swiping across her sweet spot. Kylie swore loudly and clenched her thighs tight around my head, and I moaned into her as her juices burst into my mouth. I squeezed around Hermione's fingers, and my bushy-haired friend sighed breathily into the back of my neck. 

"Get up here, baby..." Kylie tugged me up, pushing me down onto her bed. She turned, flipping up my skirt, and dove in between my legs. I cried out in pleasure as her tongue made contact with me, and arched my back. Hermione climbed onto the bed with us, and tugged up her skirt too. I bit my lip as I watched her straddle my face, then sink down onto me. 

I stuck my tongue out again, teasing at her hole, and Hermione moaned above me, grinding against me. 

"Fuck, Daze..." 

I was pretty sure I'd never heard her swear before. It turned me on so much that I felt myself soaking Kylie's face; the girl didn't seem to mind one bit as she licked faster and harder, enthusiastically spreading my thighs further apart. 

And before long, Hermione was squealing and losing control on my face. I swallowed thickly as her juices nearly drowned me, grabbing at her thighs. Kylie's tongue swept across my sweet spot, and I lost control too, moaning loudly into Hermione as I arched my back again. I rocked my hips against Kylie's face, panting both her and Hermione's names as I came down from my high. 

Hermione rolled off me and flopped down beside me, gasping. Kylie crawled up on the other side of me, turning and resting her hands behind her head. I watched her lick my wetness off her lips, then pull her lip-ring into her mouth by her teeth as she turned her head to smirk at me. 

"That was hot." I said. 

"Understatement of the year." Kylie purred. "Hey, baby, why don't you lick Daisy up this time...?" 

And I gasped loudly as Hermione giggled uncharacteristically, and I lost sight of her underneath my skirt...