EVERYTHING DUMBLEDORE DIDN'T WANT TO KNOW ABOUT HORCRUXES
Author: f # min
Beta: Logical Quirk
Rating: G
Main characters: Harry Potter, Luna Lovegood, Severus Snape, Horace Slughorn, Tom Riddle
Размер: мини
Genre: general/humor
Status: finished
Spoilers: CS, GOF, HBP
Summary: The basic drawback of known to me fics with Luna Lovegood is the lack of a slightest hint on trying to make her not so OOC. I'll try to make this hint now.
Sixth year in Hogwarts. Dumbledore sets Harry a task to find out everything about mysterious Horcruxes. It's not that easy, since Harry all along has to keep on repulsing the unceasing streams of Malfoy's dirty tricks, Luna's ludicrous ideas, Snape's cavils and Hermione's homilies. But finally Harry does discover the secret of Horcruxes...
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"Sir. That ring—"
"Yes?"
"You were wearing it when we visited Professor Slughorn that night."
"So I was."
"But isn't it … sir, isn't it the same ring Marvolo Gaunt showed Ogden?"
"The very same."
"But how come — ? Have you always had it?"
"No, I acquired it very recently. A few days before I came to fetch you from your aunt and uncle's, in fact."
"That would be around the time you injured your hand, then, sir?"
"Around that time, yes, Harry."
"Sir, how exactly — ?"
"Too late, Harry! You shall hear the story another time. Good night."
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The partakers of events in the Ministry were sitting on the lake's bank and discussing the latest happenings – they were doing that a lot now. Not because something outstanding kept on happening. It was just that otherwise those very events began to feel like a grotesque dream or a stupid fib. Besides, Harry sort of felt better being with people who had seen it happen. Who were beside him when Sirius had gone to pieces.
They never recalled last year's tragedy, however. Different topics every time – things that mattered and fiddle-faddle, everything that bothered them. Now Harry was telling everyone about the evening he spent with Dumbledore and his Pensieve.
"I swear I don't like it! It's not the first time I've asked what's happened to his hand – but he just turns to another subject or says 'later'. Hermione, do you happen to know what curse could make a hand char like that?"
"Spilled some Snape's muck on himself?" Ron suggested.
"He dipped his hand into the lake at the wrong time," Luna explained, giving a glance around the company with her protuberant eyes. "He dipped it there at a full moon midnight. At that time, for a five minutes, warding spells are activated in the water. The water becomes pestilent, much like acid, and burns hands to the bones!" She widened her eyes so much that Neville staggered back from her and then, realizing he was sitting with his back to the lake, recoiled to the opposite side, sprung to his feet and sat closer to Hermione.
"What rot!" Harry blurted out. "If it goes that way, why would he stick his hands there?"
"To get Grindelwald's ring from the bottom," Luna elucidated. "Just before he was completely prostrate he had hidden the ring at the bottom and put warding spells around it so that no one would get to it." She shook her head dejectedly. "Unfortunately, the ring only becomes available at a full moon midnight. Exactly when the spells turn water into acid!"
"Why would Dumbledore want Grindelwald's ring?" Hermione asked, hardly managing to keep her laughter hidden and pushing chortling Ron in the side with her elbow. "Let it stay where it is, nobody can reach it anyway!"
Luna looked at her reproachfully.
"Only don't say you've never heard about it. You must have read! The one who puts the ring on will be able to summon Grindelwald's spirit!"
Ron collapsed and rolled on the grass, clamping his mouth with both hands. Neville froze in reverent awe.
Harry was the only one who didn't laugh. Didn't Dumbledore actually confess he had hurt his hand because of a ring? Could this ring have passed from Voldemort or his grandfather to Grindelwald?
More than feasible.
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Voldemort stayed behind. Harry could tell he had dawdled deliberately, wanting to be last in the room with Slughorn.
"Look sharp, Tom," said Slughorn, 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 Harry could not see Slughorn or Voldemort at all; only Dumbledore, smiling serenely beside him. 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!"
"As you might have noticed, that memory has been tampered with. Professor Slughorn has meddled with his own recollections. 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 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 …"
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Hermione took a gloomy view.
"He must be determined to hide what really happened if Dumbledore couldn't get it out of him,' she said in a low voice, as they stood in the deserted, snowy courtyard at break. 'Horcruxes … Horcruxes … I've never even heard of them …"
"You haven't?"
Harry was disappointed; he had hoped that Hermione might have been able to give him a clue as to what Horcruxes were.
"They must be really advanced Dark magic, or why would Voldemort have wanted to know about them?"
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Things really did not work out the best way. When Harry tried to just walk up with that question to Slughorn he yelled at him. The group's sittings on the lake's bank were over now. Hermione spent all her days searching for information, digging over all the library – restricted section included, even the most dreadful books – but didn't manage to find any mention of Horcruxes – only that one of the authors said that Horcruxes were such no-good things that they wouldn't even mention them. Ron was permanently stuck to Lavender Brown, paying attention to nothing around him and lashing Hermione more into her delirious battling against the library even more.
And that was then Malfoy hassled Luna Lovegood in the middle of a corridor, right in front of Harry.
"It's just astoundingwhat some people call a bijouterie!" he said aloud as he pointed with his little sharp chin at the Butterbeer cork necklace on her heck. "Does the number of corks indicate how much you had drunk before crafting this pleasant piece of handiwork, Looney?"
"It's not a bijouterie," Luna answered evenly. "Where did you ever see one made of butterbeer corks?"
"On your neck!" Malfoy guffawed. "Yet, I bet if it occurred to copper-top Weasel's mother she'd have crafted the same for her daughter! It's the only way for poor Ginny to know what it's like to wear a necklace!"
"She doesn't need one." Luna shrugged her shoulders. "She's got ginger hair, you know."
Malfoy batted.
Harry didn't try to step forward for Luna. Something told him there was no need for his interference and, besides, he wondered what chimerical argument would set the Slytherin with his primitive jests into a complete stupor.
"It is only indispensable for blondes," Luna continued. "Especially the ancestral ones. How else can you protect your brain?"
"Who do I have to protect it from, you ludicrous creature?" Malfoy spat, trying vainly to sound indulgent.
"Don't you know, Draco? Everyone knows. Listen to the common jokes. All blondes suffer from the sun's impact, their hair is too thin and diaphanous to protect the brain from its remorseless melting beams. Consequently, unless they bear special talismans they have their brain irreversibly injured in ten or twelve years. Odd, that your father hadn't bought you one back then, he should have known just how dangerous it is since he's blonde himself. I believe all in your family are blondes?"
"Dimwit," Draco hissed perplexedly and hastily made himself scarce.
"Poor boy," Luna maundered after him, lips tripping. "His brain is hopelessly damaged already …"
Harry gawked, failing to guess whether it was Luna's neat mockery or her bizarre father's regular idea which she used to repeat after him at every turn.
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"I don't understand, if that memory is so important, why Dumbledore wouldn't extract it from Slughorn himself?" Harry complained to his friends. "Why would he care who does it? Sure enough, Slughorn wouldn't reveal anything to me! Actually, it is quite clear what happened there, really! Tom asked about Horcruxes, Slughorn told him about them. I wonder, does Slughorn really know what are they when Dumbledore doesn't? If it comes to this, how has Slughorn come to know about them anyway? He's not an expert in the Dark Arts and couldn't have just chanced upon this information – even Hogwarts's Restricted Section has nothing on it! Even Dumbledore seems not to show discrimination in it, what he knows he evidently heard from Slughorn! If he doesn't tell him, he will by no means tell me! Why doesn't Dumbledore just force him?"
"Harry, you're intolerable!" Hermione cut across him in a mentor tone. Ron winced. "Professor Dumbledore made it plain that it's your homework. It is important that you do it yourself. He wouldn't give it to you if he considered it impossible. Since he's said that it must be done by you and not him, then …"
"Hermione, for Merlin's sake!" Harry entreated. You are nagging me for two months now! Honestly, it's about the forteenth time you're telling me this. My memory is not as bad as Neville's!"
"But you don't listen to me anyway, Harry!" Hermione flung her arms up. "It's you who complains for the fourteenth time now that you don't want to finish your homework."
"I do want to but I don't know how! What am I to do, beat him unconscious, sell him my soul? It's perfectly clear that something is not right with these Horcrux things! Surely he's concealing where he found out about them! How can I make him confess?"
"Harry, you should put everything else aside and focus!"
"Right! Put everything else aside and flunk out of Hogwarts! Snape's only waiting for me to do that and stop preparing for his lessons!"
"Hermione, really, he'll pop off the hooks if he doesn't rest at all! He thinks about it all the time anyway, he's already got his ears smoking!"
"Harry, the primary thing now is …"
Luna ran past them, crying.
"What's up?" Ron asked as they caught up with her. "Malfoy?"
"He's badgering me!" Luna moaned through her tears. "Everybody hates me!"
"Come on, Luna, he's badgering everyone! Last time you washed him up just fine!"
"He says my chaplet didn't work on me," Luna blubbered. "They boxed me in the corner and insulted my family … Even my Mum …"
"Luna, he didn't even know your Mum had died." Hermione tried to calm her down. "And your chaplet worked on you perfectly!"
Harry couldn't help admiring the forthright Gryffindor for saying that without so much as blinking an eye.
It looked like Luna was serious then about cork chaplets...
Herry decided to distract the girl with more pleasant talk.
"Who else does your family consist of? Do you have anybody except for your father? Brothers or sisters?"
"Grandma," Luna smiled, wiping her tears away. "I take after her. She knows everything on earth. Remember, in my first year in the school you found out that Hagrid was unjustly expelled from Hogwarts? My Grandma had always known what had really happened. She told me a long time ago. She was studying here at exactly the same time. Professor Slughorn respected her a lot …"
"Your Grandma studied with Hagrid and … and Voldemort?" Ron gasped, "and she guessed from the very start that Hagrid didn't open the Chamber of Secrets?"
"Of course he didn't. He couldn't." Luna smiled at him with indulgence. "It takes a Parselmouth, and parseltounge can only be learnt by a glasses-wearer," she nodded at Harry.
"But Tom Riddle didn't wear glasses!" Hermione said resentfully.
"Tom Riddle? What has it got to do with him?
"But it was him who opened the chamber the first time!"
"No." Luna waggled her head. "That poor girl who always weeps in the bathroom opened it."
"Myrtle?"
"Oh yes. Search through the papers – she died exactly then. That very year. Was killed by the Basilisk."
Harry was struck by how Luna – or her Grandma – could have found it all out herself, and after that come to such paradoxical conclusions. Ravenclaw brains worked strangely sometimes …
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"Ron! Hermione! I got it! Got it!" Harry cried, rushing into Gryffindor сommon room. "I brought the memory to Dumbledore and he showed me the next one! I know what Hor … those things we wanted to find a book about are.
Harry hid in a corner with his friends and, having muttered 'Muffliato', a very useful spell from the Half-Blood Prince, told them everything that had happened.
"Imagine that, it struck Voldemort that it would grant him eternal life! Well, not living – existing – but he was still determined to split his soul and stash the pieces in Horcruxes so that even death would mean nothing to him! To my mind, it's all bullshit! I don't get it how he could believe that. And why did he go to Slughorn with the question? He had to have heard of it before somewhere, hadn't he? Gosh, had Slughorn created a monster! I wonder where he himself got to know of Horcruxes anyway?"
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"Professor Snape!" Slughorn signaled with his hand to his colleague passing by. "I can't miss the chance to thank you for Potter! I'm really grateful –"
"Me?" The former Potions Master raised an eyebrow, turning so swiftly that his hair swirled up around his shoulders, and crossed his arms on his chest. "To thank me for Potter? Have I really been so unlucky as to absentmindedly do him some favour?"
"No need to be like this, Professor," the present Potions Master waved his words aside. "You have prepared him just perfectly! Of course, Harry has an inherent talent for Potions, it must be from his mother. But take note of his fine flair! Even the friend he chooses! This miss Granger, what a brain - and the girl is Muggleborn! And miss Lovegood? The same remarkable heredity no doubt. I remember her grandmother perfectly. A wealth of knowledge of all kinds! She had all 'Outstandings'; twelve O.W.L.s! I also took my chance to draw from her well of knowledge the most amazing information about wormwood seeds' abilities! I had no idea that they were capable of erasing memory so selectively … where had she read that at all?"
"Frantically interesting, Professor Slughorn," Snape said with a honeyed voice. "But I actually was in hurry. You may not depicture it but I do have some affairs I must attend to. Give your thanks to Potter."
He had already taken several steps down the corridor without waiting for a answer, when suddenly, as if having remembered something, he stopped and turned.
"Twelve O.W.L.s? More than Granger has?"
"Oh, yes, just fancy!"
"The girl must have been deranged?"
"Weeeell if you put it like that … she surely did have some eccentricities, as does her granddaughter, you must have noticed – but quite within the mark. She really was a little bit like miss Granger in reading everything that she could lay her hands on … and because of that her eyes were sometimes a little bit glassy … but that's no reason to call a person deranged!"
Snape looked at him silently for some time with eyes so glassy that they could have made all the Lovegood family envious.
"Yes. Doubtless."
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"Twelve O.W.L.s!" Hermione froze with her mouth open. "Ron, are you sure you heard right?"
"I heard it right. She had more O.W.L.s than you. Luna, will you confirm it?"
"Don't get upset, Hermione," Luna said, widening eyes that were already large enough. "It was simpler then. Take History of Magic or Defence Against the Dark Arts. Before Voldemort they used to be twice as short and twice as simple!"
"But twelve!" Hermione moaned. "When did she sleep?"
"You still are the smartest student in Hogwarts, Hermione." Luna nodded so vigorously that her blonde-white hair flung up.
"And you, Luna? How many did you get?"
"Seven. I had to take Divination as well or else it made up six. I couldn't give up one exam just because of some silly predictions!"
"Give up? Why on earth would you have to give up, Luna?" Hermione frowned.
"I'm telling you – otherwise there would be six of them. And then I'd get the axe from Hogwarts! Odd that you don't know. Everyone knows. Search through the papers – those who didn't finish Hogwarts after having studied five years or more had all got exactly six O.W.L.s!"
"Ha!" Ron snapped his fingers in front of the protuberant eyes. "Fred and George only got three each! And escaped together making a furore and left Umbridge choking and clucking! The whole school gave them an ovation!"
"But they had six together," Luna calmly observed.
"There is some sense in that, Ron," Harry grinned. "They have everything for between the two of them, for sharing. They even escaped together. Even your mother always says they have 'six O.W.L.s', not 'three each'."
"It's just because it sounds like there are more O.W.L.s that way," Ron snarled.
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"Greasy abortion, that's what he is!" Harry yelled in the common room, angrily dashing the pile of books to the floor. "Well Snape, just you wait, you bloody bastard! I'll make you squirm yet when I grow up and I'm tougher than Voldemort!"
"What on earth are you saying, Harry," Hermione said, trying to make him see reason. "How can you say that, it's no laughing matter! Voldemort himself only wanted to grow up and be stronger than the preceding greatest Dark Wizard to get revenge on those who had been offending him! It's wrong to be like this, it will lead you to no good. You frighten me sometimes!"
Harry turned to the girl and shouted right into her face.
"He'll make sure that I flunk Defence, I bet he will, he'll do his best! Because of him I won't be able to become an Auror!"
"McGonagall promised you – " Neville began to speak – he believed in the Head of Gryffindor's omnipotence fervently.
"What she could have told Umbridge out of spite doesn't count! Umbridge is nothing like Snape! None of them will go against him! They all trust him, do you get it, trust!"
"Anyway, why are you so stuck to that?" Ron tried to cushion the situation. "Why is it essential that you have to be an Auror?"
"What else, Ron?!" Harry stared at him and went on under his breath. "I don't have a choice, Ron, understand it at last. I must look for Horcruxes with Dumbledore. It will probably take all my lifetime but it is my responsibility."
"Last time you seemed to think it was all bullshit," Ron reminded him, cautiously.
"Frankly, it does sound unlikely," Hermione supported. "You didn't believe yourself it was possible."
"Voldemort did believe," Harry sneered wickedly.
"What does Dumbledore say? Has anybody done this before? Has he already created the Horcruxes?"
"It's all just a theory. No one's ever tried to split their soul in more than two. But Voldemort made six Horcruxes in all! No one's ever done this, it's too dangerous. It turns you into a pitiful stub of yourself. I could never understand why would someone want to prolong such life. Tom Riddle certainly had a panicky horror of death."
"So then, the fact that he did split his soul into seven parts is already ascertained?"
"Not really. It's Dumbledore's guess. He is nearly sure that Voldemort had his soul split. But it's hard to say in how many parts. And now we are bound to kill him by installments."
"Gather six Horcruxes covers and win a new Lord in special packaging," Ron muttered.
"Unless we find and destroy all the Horcruxes, nothing can be done to him," Harry cracked back. "It's only a theory, though. He did split his soul but there's no proof that that will let the part of it that he kept to himself exist forever. Perhaps he only weakened himself doing so. But since we can't be sure we can't risk attacking Voldemort now when he's probably invulnerable."
"But Horcruxes hunting may take years," Hermione said quietly. "And it is very dangerous and risky too, since all the sacrifices might appear to be … in vain."
"We have no other way."
"Do you know how to destroy them?"
"No. Apparently, it is very difficult. Do you remember the diary? It took a year and several victims to get rid of one little notebook! Dumbledore found the Horcrux ring this summer and destroyed it. You've seen what it cost him. His hand," he clarified, meeting the uncomprehending looks.
"It is true then!" Neville choked. "It's true what Luna told us! He fetched it from our lake!"
"No, this ring belonged to Voldemort's grandfather."
"And what of Grindelwald's spirit?"
"Neville, don't you hear?" Hermione interrupted angrily. "What has it got to do with Grindelwald?"
"Dumbledore didn't get the ring from the lake?"
"Where did Dumbledore find the ring, Harry? Tell him so he can calm down."
Harry swallowed, and admitted after a pause:
"I … frankly speaking, he never told me."
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"You think the Horcrux is in there, sir?"
"Oh yes. But how to reach it? This potion cannot be penetrated by hand, Vanished, parted, scooped up, or siphoned away, nor can it be Transfigured, Charmed, or otherwise made to change its nature. Only by drinking it can I empty the basin and see what lies in its depths."
"But what if — what if it kills you?"
"Oh, I doubt that it would work like that. Lord Voldemort would not want to kill the person who reached this island. I'm sorry, Harry; I should have said, he would not want to immediately kill the person who reached this island. He would want to keep them alive long enough to find out how they managed to penetrate so far through his defenses and, most importantly of all, why they were so intent upon emptying the basin. Do not forget that Lord Voldemort believes that he alone knows about his Horcruxes. Undoubtedly this potion must act in a way that will prevent me taking the Horcrux. It might paralyze me, cause me to forget what I am here for, create so much pain I am distracted, or render me incapable in some other way. This being the case, Harry, it will be your job to make sure I keep drinking, even if you have to tip the potion into my protesting mouth. You understand?"
"Why can't I drink the potion instead?"
"Because I am much older, much cleverer, and much less valuable. Once and for all, Harry, do I have your word that you will do all in your power to make me keep drinking?"
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"We need to get you up to the school, sir … Madam Pomfrey …"
"No. It is … Professor Snape whom I need … but I do not think … I can walk very far just yet ... "
"Right - sir, listen - I'm going to find a place you can stay - then I can run and get Madam -"
"Severus. I need Severus … "
"All right then, Snape - but I'm going to have to leave you for a moment so I can - "
In the dim green glow from the Mark Harry saw Dumbledore clutching at his chest with his blackened hand.
"Go and wake Severus, " said Dumbledore faintly but clearly. "Tell him what has happened and bring him to me. Do nothing else, speak to nobody else and do not remove your Cloak. I shall wait here."
"But -"
"You swore to obey me, Harry - go!"
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"Harry, what happened? According to Hagrid you were with Professor Dumbledore when he - when it happened. He says Professor Snape was involved in some -"
"Snape killed Dumbledore," said Harry.
"Snape," repeated McGonagall faintly, falling into the chair. "We all wondered … but he trusted … always … Snape … I can't believe it …"
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"Don't grieve so hard, Harry," Luna whispered, sorrow reflected in her protuberant eyes. "The dead do not vanish really. You can see them. You can talk to them."
"You mean … ghosts? Or portraits?"
Luna looked at him with reproach.
"Look, you told me last year. I did try, I tried to talk to my godfather via the special mirror. I even talked to my parents when their images went out from Voldemort's wand. But Dumbledore explained to me it wasn't them. Like portraits, they're just shades, recollections..."
"Yes."
"Then you meant something else?"
"Harry, I speak with my Mum often. I told you last year."
"How … how are you doing it? Teach me!"
"You must go to the lake's shore at a full moon midnight …"
"And shove your hand into it?"
"Why?" Luna showed surprise.
"To get Grindelwald's ring," Harry sighed fatedly.
"Why?"
"OK, I give up, no ring. What should I do at full moon night?"
"Nothing … just look into the water. You'll see the reflections of all your dead dear ones and will be able to talk to them."
"By this you mean they will answer me? Or do I just stand there and talk to them for as long as I like? That doesn't generally take going anywhere!" Harry felt that it wasn't nice of him to rage at Luna; she really tried to help even if she knew no better, but he just couldn't stop. Sometimes with her inept enlightenments she could put anybody in a temper.
"Of course they will!" Luna answered firmly. "It's not a mere reflection. They will hear you, do you understand? You'll be able to converse! Odd that you don't know. Everyone knows …
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"Then I've got to track down the rest of the Horcruxes, haven't I? " said Harry, his eyes upon Dumbledore's white tomb, reflected in the water on the other side of the lake. "That's what he wanted me to do, that's why he told me all about them. If Dumbledore was right – and I'm sure he was – there are still four of them out there. I've got to find them and destroy them and then I've got to go after the seventh bit of Voldemort's soul, the bit that's still in his body, and I'm the one who's going to kill him. And if I meet Severus Snape along the way," he added, "so much the better for me, so much the worse for him…"
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A sad summer began like the rest of them. The sun, the Dursleys, friends' letters full of sympathy, the pressing feeling in his chest. Again and again Harry repeated to himself: what if everything was in vain? What if Dumbledore had drunk that goblet for naught? Burnt his hand for naught? For naught had weakened himself with the endless chase after mysterious Horcruxes? How would the sixteen-year-old now puzzle it all out? Who should he ask for advice? Who might know anything about Horcruxes? How had Voldemort and Slughorn come to know?
The answer came from where Harry least expected it. Towards the end of June, he received a package in the post. A huge heavy box with no writing on it, only the address drawn carefully with a ruler and the 'Do not turn down' marking – no signature or any hint at what might be inside.
Harry impatiently tore the paper and opened the box to find a smoking Pensieve. Harry froze open-mouthed, turning over the hundreds of versions concerning the sender's personality and his intentions. He rooted around in the box and found a neatly folded parchment. Harry opened it and began to read, feeling with every second that his eyes were starting from their sockets...
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"Worshipful sir – oh, you know perfectly well that from my point of view you don't deserve any worship.
Potter!
Being aware of your phrenetic craving for devoting the rest of your life to completing the task of exterminating Horcruxes, which was begun by the now deceased Professor Dumbledore, I feel it in my duty to spare you some information for the avoidance of repeating the displeasing affair. The Headmaster, being convinced that as long as the Horcruxes exist the Dark Lord is inviolable, had really committed himself to the matter and even given his life for it – no quipping, Potter, you had a hunch yourself that his time was running out already anyway. In a certain meaning it was an act of mercy from me. Even in two meanings. Besides the fact that the Headmaster was dying and I made his passing quick and painless, I also let him die with the conviction that he was dying heroically, for the cause of the Light, clearing you the way to finish it. Unfortunately, the information I have sent I had acquired too late and therefore kept it secret. Would you disagree that it would not be humane to inform a man at his death's door that he's dying in vain and all that epopee was a nonsensical farce?
Enough of exordium. To business, Potter. In the Pensieve there is a memory which casts some light upon the birth of the Horcrux legend. There you will see how Tom Riddle and Horace Slughorn got to know about this method of maintaining eternal life. I hope it's not too late for you.
Professor Severus Snape."
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"Worthless chapbook!" A tall, pale young man disgustedly flopped a huge ancient tome down on the floor. His handsome face was drawn with rage. "Not a word anywhere! Has no-one taken the time to think the problem over properly? No, I won't give up so easily! There must be the way to attain immortality! I'll find it even if I have to turn the world upside down!"
"But there is a very simple and well-known way." The voice came from behind. The boy turned impetuously and with a weird expression stared at the girl at his back, who had long white-blonde hair and wide-open protuberant eyes.
"What are you talking about?" the boy said slowly.
"Horcruxes." The girl shrugged her shoulders. "Ask Professor Slughorn for details, I'm tired of rehearsing them over and over. He questioned me about them for nearly an hour, like he was hearing it for the first time. Well, it is understandable for him not to know, he is only engaged in Potions, not the Dark Arts. But you, Tom, you always cared for it!
"Well, in bare outlines, you split your soul and put the pieces into different items. Then, as long as they're safe, you can't be killed. Odd that you don't know. Everyone knows …"