He Who Walks Between Worlds

The Life and Lies of Tom Riddle

Beginning Notes

Translations of the nonsense is at the end.

All characters are owned by J. K. Rowling and Rick Riordan.

Nico

Nico had figured it out. He had been racking his brain for weeks, going through every book that might help, but he had finally figured it out. He re-read the passage.

The moste foul of all arts is the Horcrux. We shall not speake of the Dreadfulle process used to make wone, save to say that it requires a Human Sacrifise. If thou makest a Horcrux, thou needdest not fear Death, for thou cannot be Destroyed unless thy Horcrux is also destroyed by Magical means. Thou shalt enter a Half-Life, from which thou can then be Ressurrected.

Everything fit. How Riddle had seemed to disappear for years, only to be revitalized by a ritual. Now that he knew what he was looking for, he had no trouble finding books on Horcruxes. He quickly found a gruesome, if interesting, book, Secrets of the Darkest Arts, that had all the information he needed about Horcruxes. It was armed with this information that he approached Dumbledore's office.

He found Dumbledore quietly sitting, reading a letter. When Nico came in, he set down the letter and asked, "How can I help you now, Mr. di Angelo?"

"I was wondering what you could tell me about Tom Riddle, Professor," Nico said. Though their relationship was strictly professional, Nico couldn't shake the feeling that Dumbledore was hiding something. He was curious to see Dumbledore's reaction.

Dumbledore looked as serene as ever. "Of course. I see you have traced Lord Voldemort to his childhood name?"

Nico nodded. "It wasn't hard to find."

Dumbledore smiled. "Then you must be smarter than me, because I had a most difficult time tracking him, and I taught him."

"You knew him, then?"

"I did. I flatter myself into believing that I know more about him than anyone else alive. I do not have time to show you it now because I am expecting a meeting with Fudge in about five minutes, but if you come back tomorrow at six, I will gladly show you."

Nico

The next day seemed to last an eternity. Finally, six o'clock arrived. As soon as the clock struck six, Nico knocked on Dumbledore's door before entering. Dumbledore was seated at his desk, his silver hair and half-moon spectacles making him look like a benign old man. For some reason, an image of Lamia came to his mind. She had looked kind and harmless too, before she nearly killed him and left him with a nasty scar.

"Hello, Nico," Dumbledore said. "I am afraid there is not much I know on Lord Voldemort's origins."

"But professor," Nico said. "You said yesterday that you knew more about him than anyone else alive."

"From this point forth, we shall be leaving the firm foundation of fact and journeying together through the murky marshes of memory into thickets of wildest guesswork," Dumbledore continued, as if Nico hadn't said anything. 'From here on in, Nico, I may be as woefully wrong as Humphrey Belcher, who believed the time was ripe for a cheese cauldron."

"But you think you're right?" said Nico.

"Naturally I do, but I make mistakes like the next man. In fact, being -- forgive me--rather cleverer than most men, my mistakes tend to be correspondingly huger. "

Dumbledore got to his feet and walked around the desk, past Nico, who turned eagerly in his seat to watch Dumbledore bending over the cabinet beside the door. When Dumbledore straightened up, he was holding a shallow stone basin etched with odd markings around its rim.