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Encomium Ombre

Chapter Nine

Mors Vincit Omnia

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Capture me in the sweet, enchanted lure

Of the substance he once ignored

Fill my veins with flame renowned

Shelter my mind from the sounds

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A noticeable hand held them, one of a deadly ambiance and hushed passings. The students held themselves to a high manner as they worked diligently, scribbling down notes as their Professor's words provoked countless thoughts. The lesson about the Inferius brought them a startling revelation not only about themselves, but life itself. All through the lesson, Hermione's eyes never strayed from Moody. She remained inexplicably fixated by their new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor as he walked between the aisles, stopping to engage them with some sort of fascinating thought as they worked. His dark approach to a subject so forbidden made her uneasy. Granted, he hadn't done anything worthwhile to gain the affection of her interest; she hardly dabbled with the idea that what they were learning was detrimental to what they need to learn to advance forward in their academic studies. Despite that, it was what he'd chosen to show them next during their second block with him that garnered her uninvited attention.

The torches in the classroom took on a flickering effect. Hermione looked at them, wondering it she should heed the unspoken warning. There was something entirely wrong with their new professor. She couldn't quite place it, but the more they listened on, the more she began to suspect him. He wasn't the first to cross their paths. They had other professors who taken on the task of teaching the Dark Arts at Hogwarts. The subject was said to be cursed. From what or whom, she did not know. What she did know, however, was that his destiny was sealed and Moody would soon end up like all the others. Dumbledore was able to trust him, so why couldn't she? A cold shiver ran through her as she looked at him, answering to the ominous energy as he passed by her.

Nightmares plagued her at every turn.

The topic of the Inferius didn't settle well with Hermione. She was already familiar with the macabre images of the dead, as they haunted her dreams every night. Sleep was a rare commodity. Even in the early hours of the morning, she still found sleep a conundrum that she was sure to miss. They were horrible, unspeakable acts that only seemed to surface when she looked into their Professor's mechanical eye. It was like looking into a mirror and diving into a world she'd forgotten. The longer she looked into those eyes, the more she seemed to remember what was purposely left to be concealed and she didn't like it.

Coldness draped her shoulders as the darkness surrounded her, enveloping her in a cocoon of soul-gripping depravity. It ripped apart the very fabric of her world and sent everything she held to be true into chaos. There was no color, only truth. What lay underneath the protective light of color was almost as shocking as the unknown lurking in the darkness. Everything was wrapped in false radiance, shielding her from going deeper and desperately wanting to know the truth. Unprotected, for the whole world to see, all eyes watching with interest. It was a remarkable sight to behold. Nothing was more factual than when she took away the light and saw the disgrace underneath. Hermione looked around her and found nothing. It was a frightening feeling not being able to see or hear, not to mention feel anything around her. Silence filled the air, but the whispers continued to grow.

"Death becomes us," Professor Moody proclaimed, his voice projecting throughout the classroom. He paced in front of them, his body rigid as if he was in pain. His mechanical eye swirled around, taking in their reactions as he came to a complete stop in front of his desk. "There isn't a damn soul here that won't meet that same end, I can bloody well guarantee that. However, we aren't here to talk about what happens to us once we die... that will be left for another day. Now that I have gained your attention… we shall discuss the general aspects of this course and what I expect to see from every single one of you. "

His eyes flashed over to Hermione, meeting her steady gaze.

She let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding.

"You are to give your innermost thoughts to me," he continued on. "You are to open yourself up to me, to engage the unknown, to seek the strange and delve deeper into the void. You will relinquish that control. There is more to the Dark Arts than meets the eye." He raised a single, dramatic finger up while opening his other hand in a wide, important stance. "There is a whole new world involved. Even the Unforgivables have a deadly origin and as your professor, it is my duty to teach you. It may be a lost, uncharted subject, but it is in this forbidden literature that we are able to learn far more than we could have possibly thought."

The promise of a daring demonstration intrigued the class. The students listened on, full with endless possibility and an eagerness to learn. They hung to his every word. As he continued with his lecture, Hermione couldn't help notice the sudden drop in temperature inside the dungeons; the icy cold was creeping up her limbs, a sign that things were about to get incredibly dark. It was only just days ago that she felt the presence of the macabre, a deathly deity, and she wasn't prepared for what she was about to encounter. The topic of the Inferius was fascinating as it was dangerous. Hermione couldn't remember a lesson that captivated her classmates as strongly as this one, nor did she wish to engage any farther than she already had, even though it was quite the tempting topic. The chilling presence that she'd felt earlier that morning had intensified, too; she could hardly breathe without feeling its bone-gnawing aura mingled with her own, caressing her magic. Whatever it was, she knew it wasn't friendly. She may have to go to the Restricted Section to get to the bottom of it, even at the cost of her own sanity. Though, she suspected no amount of protection could hold against whatever was trying to get her.

Without a word, Moody took out his wand and set about giving them the first actual taste of what they've been craving. He'd captivated them from the very first words. His robes flourished dramatically about him as he turned and rearranged the classroom, pushing back the desks and their belongings with a flick of a wrist to the other side of the large room. The students stood up, looking aghast at the sudden action, but took no prerogative to speak against his decision to create the space he needed to execute his art. That was one thing Hermione had come to know. Moody was able to draw their attention with the simplest of tasks. Without a word, he waved his wand. His ability to breathe life into the room with the simple spell was inspiring. Hermione watched as small orbs the size of pin needles began to circulate around the room, growing bigger with each revolution around the room.

All around them were floating alphabetical inscriptions. Curved into unnatural lines and shapes, these letters drifted untouched by the naked eye as they revolved around them. They collided together like small cosmic miracles, exploding and morphing, thus bringing life into a new shape and word. As the motley letters grew bigger, light emerged from their sunken troves. No one knew what these words meant, what the light that shined like a long distant star was trying to convey, but that didn't mean anything. They were all the more captivated. While they watched, Hermione floated to the back of the group, afraid to touch the mysterious runes.

What would happen if she did? Would it explode and send shards of itself to sink into her flesh? Was it cursed? She had enough of things piercing her skin as of late to last a lifetime, though one more scar would not matter. Instinctively, her hand reached out and touched her breast. The marbled skin was slightly bumpy against even two layers of her summer attire. Knowing she could feel it even through the clothing irked her.

Hermione was under the impression that her classmates had no interest in Ancient Runes, let alone the Inferius. As it would appear, the same inscriptions that haunted her dreams had found refuge inside the classroom. Built on ancient ground, the preserve was only enriched by these words and their mysterious meaning, to which Hermione chose to ignore. Columns of colored letters swirled around in controlled tornadoes around the room in the same fashion as they would do in nature; the only difference in these inscriptions was that they appeared to be friendly, something she found to absolutely terrifying and unbelievable at the same time. Some of the students had found the nerve to touch one, gaining them insight into something they never knew possible. As the word lit up with the simple touch of their fingers, it would sound out their pronunciation and the meaning of their cover. Hermione was the only one to see past its deceptive face and chose to stand alone while she watched her classmates mingle with the dark runes. She stood there with tears in her eyes at the sight of something she already knew.

She turned look around, she found that Harry and Ron had joined her side.

Like her classmates, they were enthralled by the circulating inscriptions. As Professor Moody left them to their own devices, she walked around, silently admiring the spiraling runes as they floated around. They were seemingly harmless. They held a sense of mystic that she couldn't place, and as she passed a particular column of them rotating to their own accord, something daunting surfaced in the back of her mind.

Hermione imagined herself frolicking in fields so vivid and prosperous that the envious moon soon put a stop to the long, drawn out hours of daylight. She could easily see the stars light up the night sky, sending the cowardly dankness to scatter with its enchanting powers. She was drawn to the mystical place. Like all who had roamed the fields before her, the flowers were calling out to her and who was she to deny them of a friend? As she stood there, the memory surfacing from somewhere deep down inside her, she could feel the waxy petals of the flowers upon her skin. She reached out to touch them, gasping as their budding heads turned upward. If she were the sun, she gave nourishment to these darling buds. Hermione stepped closer, the rune that provoked such a calling bobbing in front of her. Her hand shot out to touch it.

Just as she did, a voice broken the thick barrier and stopped her.

"Do not even think about it."

Hermione turned to find Professor Moody walking toward her. He presented with a vile sneer, one that swore and meant deliberate intention. If the eyes could speak, they would tell her not to proceed with whatever she was thinking about doing. Hermione wanted to touch the moving runes. Why, she didn't know. Whatever compelled her to do such a thing was a great driving force. She'd seen something that she desperately wanted to resurrect again. It was a connection that she could not resist, and even with Moody's warning swimming around her like the runes that she found an attraction to couldn't deter her from wanting to find out what it meant.

A loud bang reverberated around them and she immediately searched for what was the cause of such a loud sound. When she found who had caused it, she was eternally grateful that Moody had stopped them, as he had done with her. Hermione didn't know which rune they tried to touch, nor did she care. The runes appeared to be temperamental, and messing with them would prove to be problematic. What she was concerned about was Moody and his immense knowledge of a language that she didn't know he knew. Of course, he would know. There was hardly anything that he knew and could call his own, that she was certain. Not that she took the liberty of maintaining any educational injustice to his intelligence; the fact he was rubbing it in her face wasn't inconsequential, either. They merely had a rivalry that had escaped the hold of their distant ages and houses, growing into something not neither of them could have seen coming.

"I thought I told not to touch them, Granger," Moody hissed. "They might seem childish at the sight, but they are dangerous."

If they were dangerous, then why summon them so the class could study them? There were times when her Professors astonished her, and this occasion was no different.

"I'm sorry, Professor," Hermione looked at him, before turning her attention back to the runes as they floated away. "I don't know what came over me."

"That is quite alright." Something about the severity of his voice didn't settle well with her. "It is, after all, a part of their charm. I believe it was the allure of it that piqued your curiosity. Five points from Gryffindor for not listening to my instructions. That goes for you too, Finnegan!"

"How did you know I was going to touch it?" Seamus tried to sound brave, to put on a façade that preached the notion when it couldn't deliver. She knew his voice wavered, trembled despite the bravado that he obviously didn't possess. Several students gathered around them," Were you going to stop me if I did?"

Moody chuckled. "No, I would merely let your foolish desire of curiosity get the better of you, Finnegan. Anyone who thinks they wished to touch these Runes will find themselves in the Hospital Wing faster they can blink. These are dark inscriptions, the basis for creating and handling the Inferius."

"What reason do you have to summon these runes," Hermione couldn't help asking. Her chest rose and fell rapidly at the impending answer he was about to give. "I've read about them…"

"I'm certain you have," he nodded knowingly. "Continue on."

She stepped forward, risking not only another five points for Gryffindor but breaching the sacred bond between professor and students. Hermione's opinions were just that- opinions, even if she felt the overwhelming desire to share them with him.

"We're not supposed to be learning about these until our sixth year."

"They can't be that dangerous, can they?" someone came around and asked. The inscriptions bobbed up and down as they shimmered in the torchlight. Their eyes were inexplicably drawn to it, hencing the power they held over them.

Hermione only realized the just how close she'd gotten to the rune. She backed away slowly, as if too afraid that it might try and follow her. He chest tightened at the sight of him and his proclamations. She allowed her breath to hitch in her chest, looking as if she'd shot him down with a single blast from hwe wand. Hanging onto every word, she listened carefully to what he may say next, her fingernails digging into the palm of her hands. It appeared that forgiveness always found a wrong time to rear its ugly head. Although Harry had forgiven her for her past transactions, she could still feel a formidable barrier between them. She wanted to consult him, to beg him for forgiveness. From where she stood, she could just make out his expression and it wasn't good.

Moody was dabbling in something that ought to be left alone. Thus, she decided not to delude everyone into believing that the inscriptions that they had seen were nothing more than just a lesson that they were supposed to complete. Ancient Runes was truly an interesting subject, something she'd read up on during her first year. It was a hard subject to master, and it took talent to decipher its deep meaning. Not many could say that they were able to read and decipher runes, which brought her to this predicament of distancing herself from the group. Little did they know that the attraction they found was not because of the runes but for the enchantment he placed on them, she was sure of it. However, it was tampered with, bringing his plan to a downfall.

"Inferi can be controlled in many ways, but the most common way is by blood and runes. It is the most complex task that any Wizard or Witch can set out to do. Once accomplished, the Inferi are loyal. When disturbed, their kill is lethal and they do not discriminate. The servants of the Dark Wizard that created them do not care. Just as splitting one's soul, creating an Inferi is just as dangerous and perilous of a task at that. In history, they have only been a handful documented deities that did such a thing. Most texts have been lost, but rumor has it a book was saved. Its location remains unknown."

His eyes flashed over to Hermione, meeting her steady gaze.

Soon, the students were murmuring amongst themselves.

"What is learning about the Inferi and runes going to teach us?"

Several students turned their heads in her direction, waiting for Professor Moody to answer.

"It will teach how to survive in a world full with nothing but darkness," he hissed, his mechanical eye looking all around. "The whole lot of you have been sheltered, but it's my job to show you what lurks in the cold, unforgiving world that we call our own."

Moody paced in front of them, the dankness of the dungeons becoming more prominent.

"You may wonder why I'm bothering telling you this," he walked around them as his eye seemed to analyze all their reactions. "The simple answer is that you have the right to know. You are all entirely too young to know of the wars that once plagued our world." Moody continued, his wand raised before him as if to defend himself against the seemingly harmless runes. Their thrumming heartbeat was a palpable force in the air, which set the classroom aflame. "The Ministry likes to believe keeping you in the benignly in the dark is the best solution, but what good will that do you if you're faced with things that are greater than you could have possibly imagined? There are far greater evils at play and it is my job to make you understand the magnitude of it if the situation should arise."

They watched with mild deliberation until the true nature of the conference came into fruition. For years the Ministry of Magic dismissed any notion of a threat, having being moralized to believe that their world was perfectly safe. In reality, it was a horrible thing to assume, less than think. There were threats at every turn, and without the preparation and insight, Hermione feared that whatever they were hiding would finally come to light, as they've done so many times in the past. Safety was no concern to the Minister when there was nothing to be gained from it. He was corrupted, one would say. There were times when the three of them scanned the headlines and came out with absolutely nothing. It was only yesterday that they were looking for disappearances or odd disturbances. These unfortunate circumstances had been entirely strange at the time. Every time her eyes scanned the transitioning words and roamed over the revolving runes, her heart throbbed in her chest. Something about them seemed familiar but she couldn't place where she'd seen them other than in what little sleep she was able to get.

The last time they inquired about the Chamber of Secrets or anything related to it, their Professors shot them down. Hermione supposed they weren't too keen on having three Second Years snooping around, collecting evidence of the nefarious force plaguing Hogwarts. Whatever was unleashed from the Chambers had been considerably evil, something the likes of which the Wizarding World hadn't seen a very long time. If Professor Moody was saying was true, then they were in for a rude awakening. Once spoken, nothing ever truly vanishes. It's always there, waiting to be discovered again.

Hermione's heart plummeted to the bottom of her chest. Another memory surface.

"Do you now understand," the voice asked, grinning. "Darkness is not what you should fear. Your true enemy is the light." The same voice said, growing nearer with every word. Yet, there was no owner. "Has he not taught you that?"

Her heart thumped rapidly in her chest. The voice made no sense whatsoever. She didn't understand what it was talking about or could put an identity to the individual he mentioned. All she could think about was his accusations. How could something that brought color and wonder to the world be so dangerous? She just didn't understand.

The voice chuckled lightly. "You have many fears, girl. I suppose there is no point of trying to convince you. At least, not now." He paused and considered something before she felt his lips tug. He was smiling, "Fear turns to weakness. If you cannot understand that, then you stand no chance."

"I am not weak!" she hissed.

The voice laughed and an unflattering noise filled the immense space between them. "Yes, you are. I can sense it, I can feel it. You are nothing but a weakling and that is all you will ever be!"

"That is not true," she said through gritted teeth.

"Prove it."

Her heart thumped inside her chest. An achingly pulse throbbed inside of her.

"See," he cooed," you cannot even prove your strength. How do you expect to defeat the things that frighten you when you cannot even stand? You have been used for far too long, girl. You have forgotten how to fight."

His words were harsh, cold, and nothing but the truth. She had let others lead her whole life. They treated her as if she was incapable of protecting herself as if she couldn't defend herself with a simple knife. She hardly had any say with matters that pertained to her, and when it came to decisions only she could make, they still didn't trust her. Even now, she felt as if she was nothing more than a burden.

"Ah," the voice sighed," now, you are starting to understand."

She nodded slowly.

"Weaklings allow others to walk over them. They allow others to make decisions for them, most often the wrong decision. You have things you are fighting with do you not?"

She nodded slowly, the thoughts of her friends and loved ones coming to mind. She wasn't weak; everyone, even the people closest to her, thought she was. Tears threatened to fall but she held them at bay, nodding to the darkness.

"They did not want you to pursue it, now did they?"

She shook her head in response," No."

Her head bobbed slightly up and down, his way of showing her his actions. "They do not believe you are strong enough," murmured the voice. "It is true they do not wish to see you hurt, but there comes a time in an individual's life where pain and agony are necessary. It strengthens, heals, and most importantly exposes them to the true natures of the world. Without pain, there would be no success. Do you understand?" The voice didn't wait for an answer," You must take the reins of your path and start making your own decisions. It is your life, not theirs. You have the right and authority to choose your path and you cannot allow others to choose for you. You are strong; I can sense it. Instead of letting your fears overwhelm you, vanquish them. In doing so, you will truly be set free."

Hermione pulled away from the startling memory, only to land back in the present realm as if she'd apparated from the farthest reaches of the world. Droplets of sweat had collected had her temples. She struggled to pull herself together, the scene forever burned in her mind as she calmed herself down. A dark inferno of pain flourished inside of her chest, but she held herself up so she wouldn't double over in pain. Moody continued to preach as if his words weren't affecting her.

"Runes have been around since the beginning of time. There are ancient tribes that belief words create reality. Once spoken, words become a physical deity that you can never take back. Think of those who have died… once they've passed on to the next world, they can never be retrieved, or can they? These runes represent a small fraction of what we've shared amongst ourselves. You asked why I'm bothering sharing this with you, and so I answered. I'll leave you with another question, and that is what is worth a life?" Professor Moody asked them. "Life itself has always been a mystery, ladies and gentlemen, but what would encourage someone to do something so drastic? What provokes fear if not fear itself, hmm?"

Every pair of eyes fell upon Professor Moody as he pulled out his wand and engaged the attention of the classroom. The inscriptions, as they floating around them like revolving smoke, disappeared in a blink of an eye. While the disappeared with the guidance of Moody's charm, his eyes swept around the room, lingering on the back row where Hermione stood. His eyes narrowed on her whilst the inscriptions vanished completely, leaving behind no evidence of their patrol. He straightened himself as he charmed the tables and chairs to their original positions. He tucked his wand back inside his robes, his eyes never leaving the back of the room. If it wasn't for Moody watching her with hungry, almost determined eyes, Hermione would have had him. She could not vouch for the fascination; he was smitten by her, and Hermione couldn't, for the life of her, figure out why.

If the enchantments didn't frighten her, it was the possibility of learning the meaning behind the lesson that did. And she not only earned his approval, but the inquiry and concern of Professor Moody as he walked silently in front of his desk, his hands inside the pockets of his midnight blue robes while his eyes greeted the floor. They'd just settled back into their seats when he coined a thought-provoking question. He'd finished his demonstration and now wanted them to contemplate what they'd just seen. When no one gave him the answer he had been seeking, he raised his head and was startled to find Lavender Brown with her hand raised high in the air. Unbeknownst to him, she had been waving her hand frantically in the air for the past few minutes, and if he didn't call on her soon, she was sure she'd lose consciousness. If he hadn't looked down, he would have automatically noticed.

Fortunately for him, the entire class discussion wasn't completely lost, nor was the lesson. Hermione could see it in his eyes that annoyance was settling in, but he had asked a question, and she was only trying to provide an answer for him.

"Ms. Brown," he called on her, his voice as deep and alluring as it had been during the beginning of the lesson. Hermione hadn't known then, but she was rather smitten by his ideas...The Inferius and the ability to split one's soul. It had been a forbidden topic for her, but as she sat there and listened on, she began to enjoy it. She was gravelly interested in the unknown, for achieving immortality was something truly amazing. Not in the traditional sense. Hermione saw Moody as her intellectual equal. There were no dangerous feelings of affection underlying the surface. Even conjuring something as simple as a glowing orb was easy for Hermione, something she believed to be far below her magical level, but understanding what they were learning was another issue. "The question still stands. What worldly reason would you have to gain by achieving immortality? If possible, would you choose to embark on the journey, knowing that the cost of your soul lay in the balance of corruption and salvation?"

"I think it would be out of love," she answered simply, garnering a resonating laugh across the classroom. Lavender shot everyone a nasty glare, before proceeding to enlighten them further with her answer. "I mean, we learned about the Philosopher's Stone in our second year. It grants immortality, and why wouldn't anyone want that? Nefarious, or not, a thousand years of research and learning could possibly cancel out any negative aspects of splitting one's soul, wouldn't it? Of course, if it was for the greater good."

"The Philosopher's Stone, indeed, grants immortality. It is thought to be the lesser of the many evils plaguing this world. However, what if I told you," Moody said in a deep, dark tone," that what you had to do in order to split your soul is too repulsive and too unrepentant that, no matter what you did, could never erase what you did in order to achieve said immortality?"

The color in Lavender's face drained and she retreated her retort.

"The idea isn't that appealing once you start thinking about what you had to do to achieve it." Moody proclaimed loudly, startling them. "There is nothing wrong with wanting immortality for research. Wouldn't we all want an extra ten or fifteen years to dabble in something as extraordinary as that? However, that isn't the natural order of things. As wizards and witches, we lived fascinating lives as it is. To tack on another two-hundred more years is a great offense to nature to an already corrupted sense of existence. Believe me when I say this… when you cheat death, it will find a way to get you back ten-fold. You don't want to mess with the natural order of things, nor do you wish to find yourself on the other side of its wrath."

"If it is a matter of opinions, then I do not believe it's ethical to subject anyone to such horrendous conditions. Who are we to subject ourselves to such brutality or anyone we loved? Who are we to dangle the precious gift of life when they are inches away from death?" Hermione knew that Professor Moody's questions have not pushed the discussion farther in the last hour. Lavender had presented him a thoughtful answer, and in return, the entire class was presented with another question to contemplate.

"What is worth a life?"he implored, his mechanical eyes swirling around. Moody looked about the room, his eyes landing right on Hermione, who remained petrified in her seat.

When no one spoke up, Moody stopped pacing, his eyes landing right on Hermione.

"Ah! Miss Granger, would you like to contribute anything else to this conversation?"

"I have nothing to say on the matter," she told him softly, feeling as everyone turned to look at her. She'd been silent the entire lesson and she didn't wish to share exactly what had been playing on her mind. She was still trying to wrap her head around the whole affair. Asking them these question about life and death was draining her. She didn't know how much more she could take.

"I implore you to reconsider" he offered a polite greeting as he smiled most wonderfully at her. "I know death is a sensitive subject, something that we all can relate to but do not fear. I would never ask you to divulge anything that you didn't want to share. Now, the question still stands. What is worth a life and why would anyone risk their mortal soul to gain something such as immortality?"

"I believe life is measured by the character of a person and the number of breaths you take," Hermione said, pouring her heart out. "We were created from the same substance that built and shaped the stars. We all share the same set of attributes: a heart, a set of lungs, thoughts, and emotions...the list is endless. Animals feel pain and sorrow. Magical creatures have organized themselves into a working society, built a sustaining environment, and formed relations with one another, much like Muggles have. We may be the only species to vocalize ourselves, but they are more capable than we give them credit for. Are we truly that different from one another? Are others considered that low that we have to prove ourselves time and time again of our titles? Life is an unfathomable commodity. It deserves the same treatment we show our mothers, the second givers of life. We would not be here if it were not for the very dust that we were created from. And, in a sense, we are in debt to life. And it's about time we start paying our creators back by using the time we have wisely."

"And, what makes you believe that?" The evidence of his keen interest glittered in his azule eye. The mechanical one swirled around, almost unable to contain itself inside its chamber.

"It's just like Lavender said," Hermione continued, gaining confidence with passing second. "What would we give for another ten or fifteen years? I believe that anyone in their right mind would aspire for that. The driving behind it, however, is love. I can tell you, as young as I am, I worry that my parents won't have enough time with me. Witches and Wizards live considerably longer than Muggles, and if I were to pursue immortality, I'd do it so I could spend time with the ones I love. But, life? I believe the quality of one's life is measured by what you choose to do with it. "Immortality…" she began, licking her lips," as you said, it isn't a natural phenomenon and anyone aspiring to live such a considerable life is already corrupted by the belief their life isn't enough. It's their selfishness that drive them to obtain it."

"That was some answer, Ms. Granger," Moody said to her in a low tone. Perhaps, she had shared entirely too much, though it was gratifying that he seemed to understand what she was trying to convey.

Hermione smiled timidly. "Yes, well, I suppose it is touchy subject."

"That it is," he agreed before picking her mind again. "Love is a powerful idea, but is it enough to risk your soul once you die?"

"Isn't the idea of immortality not to?"

"You are correct, Ms. Granger, but I never said it wasn't possible for an individual who split their soul not to die. In this case, splitting one's soul means does, in fact, mean they're immortal. What becomes of the soul remains a mystery. Some say they become a tangible object, to which the individual in question fiercely protects. Legend has it there are seven Horcruxes scattered around the world, forged by a mad man's frenzied attempt to reach immortality. I suppose it was his own crippling insanity that drove him to such lengths, but one has to wonder if it is all true. If this man was able to reach immortality at the risk of his own mortal soul, was it really worth it? What would that imbalance mean to the world as it exists today?"

Moody dragged a thoughtful line against his strong jaw.

There was a sudden shift in the air as he looked at her. Chills played with the bones of her spine. He spoke in an unfathomably low tone, ensuring that only she would hear him."You would know, Ms. Granger," he whispered suggestively. "I'm sure you would know all about the Inferius and what they're capable of doing."