Chapter 4: Shocking Revelations
Professor McGonagall, never breaking eye contact with Hermione, put her empty glass unsteadily on the desk with a quiet clink and took a deep breath. "A Whorecrux, Granger. They are not too different from Horcruxes, given that they are powerful objects where someone can store a part of their soul in an attempt to make his or herself immortal. As you already know, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has created several Horcruxes in an attempt to achieve immortality. This new and rather disturbing discovery was been made during Professor Dumbledore's investigations. As well as Horcruxes it would appear that You-Know-Who has created 7 Whorecruxes." The Professor paused to regain her composure. Her voice had been rising in pitch during this entire speech and it finished now on a strained note that gave away her clear distress. It was clear to the two young witches that what the professor was telling them not only upsetting to her, but would very likely be upsetting to them too. Hermione was sure that for the Professor to be this uncomfortable (but to still insist on briefing them on the mission) meant that it must indeed be of incredible significance.
The Professor poured another firewhiskey. Hermione did her best to maintain a non-judgemental expression. She felt as nervous as though she was about to sit her end of year exams, and her glass was trembling in her hands. Noticing that Hermione had almost finished her drink, Professor McGonagall reached forward to top up her glass. She wondered if perhaps the young witch might need a nerve tonic by the end of the conversation (and briefly wondered if she should have accepted Poppy's offer of a Calming Draught earlier in the day for herself, but no, she could manage. She wasn't Head of Gryffindor House for nothing, by Merlin) before continuing to explain about Whorecruxes. McGonagall paused for a moment while replacing the cork in the near empty bottle and tried to explain the delicate situation as best she could. "A Whorecrux is a person into which the Dark Lord has stored a piece of his soul. The idea being that when he is at his weakest, when or if he discovers that his Horcruxes are being destroyed, he would go to each of the Whorecruxes and...retrieve the piece of his soul – ready to make new Horcruxes. Sort of a 'Plan B' if you will." The Professor gazed at the young witches to see if they understood her. By the look of sheer astonishment and horror on their faces she presumed that they were keeping up adequately. "In short, ladies, your mission will be to locate the other 6 Whorecruxes, retrieve the pieces of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's soul and destroy them." Professor McGonagall stopped speaking, clasped her hands on the desk and prepared herself for the barrage of questions she no doubt was about to receive.
Instead, there was a heavy, sullen silence in the room. To her credit, Hermione appeared to be quietly digesting the information that she had been giving before venturing any questions. Fleur, on the other hand, had gone an unattractive shade of pale that resembled freshly fallen snow. Professor McGonagall was aware that the French witch had been working at Gringotts to improve her English, as Hermione had so snippily pointed out earlier, but it was not just her command of the English language Fleur had been working on. She had in fact been working beside Bill Weasly as a curse breaker; Fleur was indeed much smarter than she ever let on. This was just as well really her knowledge of the ancient magic used to break the curses would be required in assisting Hermione in dealing with the Whorecruxes. It was clear from the strained, uncomfortable look on Fleur's face that she would not require much further explanation. Professor McGonagall really hoped that Hermione could fill in most of the blanks herself as well but feared that this was a little like counting your wizards cards before opening your chocolate frogs. She braced herself, knowing that she was going to have to spell it out eventually.
Hermione swirled her firewhiskey around her glass, gazing into the amber liquid. Part of her dearly wanted to grab the bottle from McGonagall and drain it, to drown herself in the pleasant burning sensation of alcohol, but the logical part of her brain knew that she need a clear head for the rest of this conversation to make sense. She slid forward to the edge of her seat and set her glass on the edge of McGonagall's desk. She knew her first question was selfish given everything McGonagall just said, but something inside told her that she had to know this before all else. "Professor, how did I become a Whorecrux?" Her voice was low and timid, even to herself she sounded like that small bushy-haired eleven year old who stepped off the Hogwarts Express more than 5 years ago. She pushed her insecurities to the back of her mind and lifted her gaze to Professor McGonagall's face and saw instantly that it was filled with compassion. Professor McGonagall opened her mouth to answer this question then closed it again slowly, contemplating her drink; she resisted the urge to down yet another glass – if she continued drinking this way she would be as undignified as Sybill Trelawney on a Saturday afternoon. (Or rather, morning. Or rather, Friday morning, in all honesty. She made a quick mental note to bring this up at the next staff meeting. The house elves' reports of finding tiny bottles of wine hidden all over the place had been increasing recently. Dumbledore ought to say something. This was Hogwarts, after all, not Club Tropicana)
"I am afraid, Miss Granger, that Hogwarts is somewhat to blame for that. You see, during the Triwizard tournament Alastor Moody was responsible for placing you safely in the care of the merfolk during the Second Task. Of course it was Barty Crouch junior and, well, we have recently uncovered evidence that during this time he 'tampered' with you using a complicated form of legilimency and ancient magic to place a piece of You-Know-Who's soul within your very core." Professor McGonagall answered.
Hermione took a deep breath, "How can you be sure, Professor?" she asked, unable to help the tears forming.
Professor McGonagall noted the hint of fear in Hermione's voice but answered her swiftly, knowing the young witch must have a complete understanding of what has happened and what is to happen. "Miss Granger, we know because Barty Crouch's memories were removed from him by Professor Snape after he administered the verituserum and before the Dementors performed their kiss on him. I can assure you that Professor Dumbledore has seen this particular memory in the pensieve. In fact, this is how we know of the existence of the Whorecruxes in the first place."
Hermione searched Professor McGonagall's face for some shred of doubt, but it was not there. She turned to Fleur who had an odd look of pity on her face as her blue eyes met Hermione's. At this, Hermione began to flush with embarrassment as certain thoughts begin fall into place. Well, I suppose they aren't called Whorecruxes for nothing, she thinks to herself. Unable to stay in her chair any longer, with the pressure of all three pairs of eyes on her, she thrusts her chair back and starts to pace across the study.