Harry Potter 06 - Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

the half a dozen teenage boys sitting around Slughorn with Tom Riddle in the midst of them, Marvolo’s gold and black ring gleaming on his finger.
    Dumbledore landed beside Harry just as Riddle asked, ‘Sir, is it true that Professor Merrythought is retiring?’
    ‘Tom, Tom, if I knew I couldn’t tell you,’ said Slughorn, wagging his finger reprovingly at Riddle, though winking at the same time. ‘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 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 –’
    Several of the boys tittered again.
    ‘– I confidently expect you to rise to Minister for Magic within twenty years. Fifteen, if you keep sending me pineapple. I have excellent contacts at the Ministry.’
    Tom Riddle merely smiled as the others laughed again. Harry noticed that he was by no means the eldest of the group of boys, but that they all seemed to look to him as their leader.
    ‘I don’t know that politics would suit me, sir,’ he said when the laughter had died away. ‘I don’t have the right kind of background, for one thing.’
    A couple of the boys around him smirked at each other. Harry was sure they were enjoying a private joke: undoubtedly about what they knew, or suspected, regarding their gang leader’s famous ancestor.
    ‘Nonsense,’ said Slughorn briskly, ‘couldn’t be plainer you come from decent wizarding stock, abilities like yours. 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 round.
    ‘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 round; 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?’
    Slughorn stared at him, his thick fingers absent-mindedly caressing the stem of his wine glass.
    ‘Project for Defence Against the Dark Arts, is it?’
    But Harry could tell that Slughorn knew perfectly well that this was not schoolwork.
    ‘Not exactly, sir,’ said Riddle. ‘I came across the term while reading and I didn’t fully understand it.’
    ‘No … well … 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.
    ‘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, thought Harry, the hesitancy, the casual tone, the careful flattery, none of it overdone. He, Harry, had had too much experience of trying to wheedle information out of reluctant people not to recognise a master at work. He could tell that Riddle wanted the information very, very much; perhaps had been working towards this moment for weeks.
    ‘Well,’ said Slughorn, not looking at Riddle, but fiddling with the ribbon on top of his box of crystallised 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 Harry could sense his excitement.
    ‘Well, you split your soul, you see,’ said Slughorn, ‘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 …’
    Slughorn’s face crumpled and Harry found himself remembering words he had heard nearly