A Tale Behind the Soul
Herpo was 20 when it started. Everywhere, witch and wizard hunts had started. Witches were found, killed, and tortured for information. Many wizards went into hiding, obscuring their powers. Herpo was different. He had worked, and he sought revenge on the people who had ruined his life. Seven years had passed since the witch hunts began. Herpo sat on a log in the forest. If these people would go to any means to achieve their goal, what stops me from achieving mine? I am far more powerful.
Ekrizdis was with him; they had the same goal. He was packing his bags. He would visit Ekrizdis, and he would ask for advice. He boarded his small boat and packed his belongings tightly. He rowed, paddled, and sweated until he felt it. All at once, all of his worst fears came into his head. He felt cold, his hands numb from all of the paddling. Then, he saw it. A tall black structure on the island. He landed and pulled his luggage out of his rowboat. Ekrizdis came hurrying out.
"What brings you here, old friend?" he said. His voice was hoarse and scratchy.
"I come to you for ideas, Ekrizdis. You have always had the best advice," Herpo responded.
"Thank you Herpo. Let's go inside. We can discuss this matter over a cup of tea," he said, ushering Herpo inside.
His home was spacious and comfortable. Herpo sat down near the fire and talked with Ekrizdis.
"So, you came for advice? What kind?" asked Ekrizdis, sitting down in a squashy armchair.
"I am tired of Muggles dominating us. We should be dominating them! Like you. You have made a creature that is more powerful than 500 wizards! I must make such a monster," Herpo said with enthusiasm.
"Monster? I think not. The Dementor is very misunderstood, but yes, it is powerful. But one day, they will find a spell to repel them, and they will be useless," said Ekrizdis.
"What if there was a way to live beyond death? A way to preserve their soul past death, conceal it, in other words," Herpo pondered aloud.
"Impossible. Your soul cannot be ripped from the body. Such pain would be unbearable. You can stay the night if you like, I assume you are already fed?" Ekrizdis asked.
"Yes, thank you. I have one final question, however. I must make a monster. But how? What do most commoners fear?" Herpo asked.
"Many people fear a serpent, but a serpent is already alive, and I suppose you could modify it. As far as the soul goes, I know you too well. When you experiment please be careful."
"I will, old friend. But I hope that I shall have a monster. I may never be immortal, but if I can, I will. Tomorrow morning I shall start my quest, in hopes that one day I shall come back with better news," Herpo responded.
Since that day Herpo had visited Ekrizdis, he was different. He had spent over a year experimenting with snakes, sitting quietly in the forest. Many died before they were created into monsters, but a couple had succeeded. He had a goal, and a goal he would achieve. He was to make a snake, a snake that only he could control, his monster that he could use to avenge them. Not only had Herpo's personality changed, but he was much different looking. His face, once lively and active, was now pale and cold. His eyes had turned from a majestic blue to a vivid yellow and his hair, now as white as snow, shined as bright as a star fading in the moonlight.
This time, he did not have a snake, for he had given up on body modification, but he had a toad and what looked to be a chicken's egg. He trapped the toad in a wooden cage and placed the egg under it. He put the cage in his cabin, as it would be of no use until it hatched. He sat down and began to think. He had not forgotten his goal of immortality but had given up after he saw the way it was possible. Yes, it was possible, but the cost was too great. To become immortal, you must separate your soul into two pieces, and conceal that piece in an object. The only way to tear the soul is to commit murder. He was not a murderer, he would not sink to that level of evil, he thought. But over the years he had changed, and the idea of immortality seemed more inviting as he got older. Halfway through his thought, a sound came from his house. A deep growl. He walked nervously inside, carrying his wand. But what he saw was not remotely frightening, at least not to him. A small serpent lay on the table, with green scales and bright yellow eyes perfectly matching Herpo's. He smiled. His work had paid off.
Over the next couple of days, Herpo noticed the snake growing in size immensely. By the end of the week it was nearly eight feet long and the width of a large book. On one particular day, he was hunting and he saw a rabbit, the serpent slithering near his side. The snake immediately launched at the rabbit, prepared to swallow it whole, and Herpo, angry at his loss of dinner, shouted, "Stop," as the snake sunk its fangs into the poor animal. It immediately died, but even more amazing was that the snake stopped. It looked at him with a puzzled expression, as though it was confused as well. Herpo thought that he should try another word, just to confirm it wasn't just a coincidence. He whispered, "Can you hear me?" But this time he recognized his voice. It was an odd whisper, a hiss that came out of his mouth instead of a voice. The snake, with an understanding face, nodded and hissed "Yes."
He had named the snake Umbra, and since then, the snake had followed him everywhere. Now 30 feet long, Herpo was realizing that this animal, this monster, would be enough to take down the Muggles. As for the Horcrux, he was thinking of a way. He was a good man, but this, what he had to do, was so horrible he hated to think about it. But at the same time, he was attracted to the idea of being immortal. Living beyond death, he thought. It would be necessary to have a backup plan if he was to attack the Muggles. So he had accepted the truth. He would have to do it. On a chilly Thursday evening, he tiptoed up to the village on the hill. As he saw the kids play, he started to regret it. But, he also thought of what those people had done to his family. Had he sunk to their level? He walked up to a single house and went in silently holding his wand by his side. As he saw the man, he did it, without thinking.
"Avada Kedavra."
The man fell to the floor, clearly dead. He was cold as ice, the look upon the face of terror and mild surprise. Herpo looked at what he had done and hated himself. But he must do this, for wizardkind. For the greater good.
He stepped over the body and lit two candles. He took out his wand and said,
"σκίσει την ψυχή μου."
Herpo then pulled out a dirty opal necklace, once his mother's, and tapped it with his wand. He hesitated for a moment, then muttered to himself, I made it this far, I might as well finish it. Then, he said the last words.
"ζήσε πέρα."
Then Herpo screamed a blood-curdling scream, as his soul was torn from his body. His worst memories came back to him, his dead parents, their burning bodies, and that deep dark figure with a smile on his face as he ran to save himself. He felt as though he was being torn into shreds limb for limb, thousands of knives piercing every inch of his skin, he couldn't breathe, this was surely the end, he wanted to die, please, just let it end, everything was going dark, the world was fading...
