Horace Slughorn knew he'd stumbled into trouble. The Riddle boy was pushing the boundaries, trying to master magic. He hadn't yet grasped the most basic principle of true mastery. Respect.

Young Tom was powerful, and he held himself to higher standards than his classmates. Ambition was a fine thing, but the boy had yet to learn caution. The risks he took in the dueling club were harbingers of things to come if the boy didn't learn to value life and love.

Going to Dippet would only make the situation worse. Dumbledore would involve himself as the Headmaster's assistant, and things would go from bad to far, far worse. Horace swallowed down his fear. Riddle needed help but not the variety he sought.

He glanced toward the gift his master had bestowed upon him. He'd never once felt the urge to use it for himself. He'd followed the one rule given to him in regards to it. Never allow Albus Dumbledore to touch it. That Flamel had been so adamant did spark his curiosity, but he'd known there would be no answers. Nicholas Flamel liked his secrets.

He picked up the blown glass dome and picked up the specially designed time turner. It was worked in goblin mined gold and dwarvish silver. The sand within shifted colors with each movement of the device. He examined the engraved words once again.

The greatest knowledge, I concede, I will furnish what you need. Only once, and then I'm done until I find another one.

"Professor." Young Riddle knocked at his open office door. There was no more time to consider his path.

"Come in, my boy." Horace smiled broadly and turned toward the handsome young man. "I was just thinking about you."

"It is kind of you to keep me close in your mind." Tom smiled. The boy needed to practice his lying if he was going to keep at it. The insincerity shone clearly in his eyes.

"There was no kindness intended." Horace allowed his affable gaze to harden. "You are overreaching, and I fear what you will do without proper guidance. The dark arts are not a toy."

"I am aware of that, sir." Tom nodded appropriately, almost deferentially. "That is why I sought your august council."

"August council, indeed." Horace shook his head. "Laying it on a bit thick, Mr. Riddle. I am aware of my limitations. If you were seeking knowledge of obscure potions, my mind would be the one to seek. Alas, you are not. My knowledge would not serve you, but I have a way for you to obtain what you need. Have a seat. This will take some explaining."

Tom Riddle sat on the edge of his seat. He did not relax. He did not slump as the young are oft inclined to do. His eyes wandered around the room in a carefully careless manner.

This man was a young predator. He was still adapting to the world around him. There was hope. Horace took a deep breath. It wasn't easy being an agent of salvation.

Tom stared at the delicate device in his hand. He'd known going to Slughorn would yield results, but this bit of metal and magic seemed too good to be true. He glanced at Brax and Orion as they dueled. They were elegant, but they held none of the fire he wanted.

Malfoy and Black were well settled in their power. They had never wanted for anything. He had learned to mimic their behavior, but he was well aware it was an act. Though they envied his power, he was still lesser.

Hat in hand was no way to live. His gift for the dark arts would carry him only so far. His Slytherin heritage wouldn't overcome his blood status. At best, he'd work for a tosser with half his ability. He hated his muggle heritage, hated the non magical parts of himself.

"Are you coming?" Brax grinned and tossed his head back to clear his face of his silver blond hair. "Dorea Black is flirting with that arse, Potter, again. Too bad Orion can't sit on his older cousin. A Gryffindor, of all things."

"I'll leave you to your mocking." Tom waved the pair off. "I have a spell I'm working on."

"When don't you?" Orion waggled his brows. "A little time with the ladies would serve you well."

"Yes, yes, so you say." Tom dropped his gaze and waited for the pair to depart, sun and shadow, two princes returning victorious to their kingdom.

Tom took a deep breath and considered the path before him. There was no point in lying to himself. He needed power. He had to secure a place for himself in this world. Being friends with Brax and Orion gave him nice places to visit, but they weren't his. He needed to be strong enough to find and hold his place or others would take it.

He'd seen it enough at the orphanage. His magic had fought for him before he had even realized he was different, but it hadn't spared him completely. He'd been to weak and too pretty. The older boys had enjoyed his whimpers and his tears as much as they had his body. Eventually, he'd learned to protect himself. He'd gotten his revenge. It wasn't sweet and left him feeling hollow, but it was his.

It was the only thing that was truly his.

He stroked the curved glass within the device. He recognized seduction. The lure of easily gained knowledge was strong, but there was a cost. There had to be. It couldn't be keeping the thing from the great and mighty Dumbledore. That was practically a reward.

Still, it was a chance. Things could go wrong. The price could be too high. He knew that. Merlin, he knew it too well, but there was the slimmest chance this could work. He had to try.

He draped the chain around his neck and set the gyroscopic circles spinning. The world around him blurred. Temperatures surged and plummeted. He regretted having ever eaten as his stomach twisted and tried to empty. So, some part of his mind catalogued the pain and the suffering, there was a price. It would fall to him to make sure he got the better end of the broom.