Chapter 40 – Horcruxes
Spring had officially started, and the air warmed considerably. Lizzie was pleasantly surprised to be enjoying the solitude she'd obtained since her and Seamus parted ways, at least for the most part. Classes progressed normally. Lizzie paid closer attention to material than she did in the past, excruciatingly close. Everything she was exposed to not only posed the question of how it could help her in the war, but what it might have meant to a teenaged Tom Riddle.
Dumbledore had returned and summoned her to his office for the first time since she obtained the memory. They exchanged an apprehensive look before tipping the vile into the pensive, both of them desperately hoped it would provide answers they needed.
The memory started off much of the same as the first, until Tom stopped him alone when the other students had left.
"Professor, I was wondering if I could inquire with you about something?" Tom asked.
"Anything, my boy, anything," Slughorn said, pouring out a couple of drinks.
"Well, you see, I was in the library the other night where I ran across a bit of rare magic," he started to explain. "It's called, as I understand it, a horcrux..."
"I beg your pardon?" Slughorn asked and choked lightly on his words.
"A horcrux. Came across the term while readings, and I just don't quite understand what it is," Tom admitted.
Slughorn gazed back horrified. "Tom, I'm not sure what you were reading but this is extremely dark magic," Slughorn stuttered.
"Well, I gathered that, yes, and it's why I came to you... the other professors wouldn't understand my academic interest in it," he explained and gave Slughorn a pervasive and intense stare that prompted a divulge of information Slughorn was obviously reluctant to share.
"A horcrux... is an object that somebody conceals a piece of their soul inside. The premise being to both protect themselves from death and regain a body should they die," Slughorn explained slowly.
"Protected? But I don't understand how that works, sir," Tom admitted.
"One splits the soul and conceals it," Slughorn offered more simply.
"But how does the soul become split?" He asked.
"Well... murder. Malicious murder, it tears the soul," Slughorn answered.
"How do you know if it has in fact been torn?" Tom asked.
"Well, it's said to manifest itself outside your body. It will take a more sinister form because the split only encompasses the evil required to commit the act. Legends all indicate that this split portion of the soul stalks the murderer until they either kill it or offer it something. Some of these split souls cannot die though, not without killing the source as well," Slughorn explained.
"Then how does it become enclosed in an object?" Tom asked.
"It's offered a body I believe. Body of the victim or equivalent, along with an object. The bargain is they can latch onto to that body, remain hidden in that object, and eventually return to full living form once the maker in turn dies. It's essentially comprised of everything needed to return from the dead, in an easily concealed and packaged object. It waits in idle until the maker dies and ascends to something that is more evil when regenerated. But, as I understand it, it can only be offered the original victim or a second victim of equal value. Otherwise, it will continue to seek out the maker. It wants the maker to die, see? Only then can it return to a fully living entity. The maker creates their own worst enemy if they aren't careful about controlling it," Slughorn continued.
"What happens if it is not given an object?" Tom asked.
"It continues to stalk the maker. Many legends indicate it has to be killed by the maker, but often that results in their death as well. The killing of it acts as a sort of judgment in terms of the murder committed. Some have experimented with what to do with a dead split soul should they manage to kill it... animating it and the like to use as a sort of weapon, but it is a careful game to play as the entire ordeal is permanently damning," he added.
"Can you only split the soul once? Hypothetically speaking, could you split it into...say... seven?" Tom asked.
"Merlin's beard, Tom! Isn't it bad enough to consider killing once? To split the soul into seven? That is digging a debt one cannot return from... this is... like you said, hypothetical... all academic?" He asked nervously.
"Of course, sir," Tom said with a pervasive grin. "Our secret," he whispered and Slughorn's eyes flashed with intense fear.
Lizzie fell back into Dumbledore's office and landed hard on the floor. Dumbledore retreated to his desk with a look of disbelief.
"Seven... he split himself into seven..." Lizzie whispered. She got up and quickly fumbled through her bag to pull out the book from the restricted section she'd seen reference to Horcruxes in.
"This is what he was reading, it was earmarked already when I pulled it last term... don't tell Madame Pince... I read over it without much thought to that bit though," she said and dropped the book on the desk.
"He couldn't have made one from Leah, he was too young," Lizzie said.
Dumbledore held up his hand for her to stop talking momentarily. He walked to his drawer and pulled out a diary.
"Myrtle Warren he did, though," he said and set down the destroyed diary from years prior.
"Ginny was supposed to be the exchange..." Lizzie whispered.
"His sister, Renee," Dumbledore said, and pointed to a ring on the desk that Tom was wearing in the memory.
"I found that at the Guant house outside of Little Hangleton," he explained. "They are nearly impossible to destroy," he said holding up his decaying hand. Lizzie touched the ring and images flashed through her mind of a burning body and her ears rang with a young man, presumably Tom, screaming in pain.
"The Albanian girl, Nora, Hepzibah's niece, Amelia, the orphan from Wool's, Emily, and Nagini..." Lizzie rattled off.
"I think the cup Hepzibah showed him is likely one, the locket he had is probably one, Nagini is probably one in itself, but I don't know if it can be something alive..." Dumbledore explained.
"Nagini is inferi. She's not alive," Lizzie said. Dumbledore looked up at Lizzie intently and his eyes flashed with heartbreak for a moment. Lizzie noticed but didn't pick up on his thoughts because he immediately blocked her out.
"If the split that resulted from Leah was never satisfied... I mean it needs to be of equal value and he had since killed muggles - predominantly - or didn't have a body to offer at all - do you think that original split was just collecting pieces from each? It would explain why he was drawn to these victims... it was stalking him... as her... but he never gave her something she considered equal value," Lizzie offered.
Dumbledore nodded. "That is probably an accurate assessment. He in turn made horcruxes from each hoping to conceal it and rid himself the presence...while rendering himself almost completely immortal in the process. I'm sure it drove him borderline mad when it never did the trick," Dumbledore added.
"What would the unknown one be? The one he made with the girl in Albania?" Lizzie asked.
"I think something related to Hogwarts or a Hogwarts founder. Like you, this was his only home. He returned here early in his rise to ask for a job as the Defense Against the Dark Arts Instructor. Dippit refused initially because he was too young. He then asked me, but I could already tell he was sinking deep into the depths of dark arts... I refused him and have not kept a professor in the post more than a year since. If he had Slytherin's locket, Hufflepuff's goblet, it would likely be something to do with Ravenclaw or Gryffindor. But there are no known valuable artifacts from Gryffindor other than the sword which would never have succumbed to dark magic," he explained.
"The prophecy... I had a dream he had decided on the Longbottom's but picked up a photo of a little girl who appeared to fit the parameters. He changed his mind abruptly. I think... I think it was a picture of my mother..." Lizzie said. Dumbledore looked up at her sadly but didn't offer insight she could tell he had about it.
"I need to do some further research on this, Lizzie. Come up with places to look for these others. If we destroy all of them..." he said.
"We destroy him," Lizzie whispered. "Let me help," she said.
"I wouldn't dream of not letting you help, my dear," Dumbledore added with a weak smile. He watched her leave as sadness washed over him with a heavy wave.