RIDDLEBOOK

WARNING:

Contains some mature content. Reader's discretion is advised.

HORCRUX

Slughorn was a coward and a fool. My anger burned me, and Mephostophiles did no soothing as he whispered into my ears. "Thy mentor hast no power, he hast no will. Come, come my boy, and allow I to teach thee the way…"

My fury made its way to my stinging heart. My patience was at its end. If Slughorn refuse to tell me what I need to know I'll find out by myself, like I always do. Besides, the demon will help. "Fine," I said through gritted teeth, "fine. Help me create a Horcrux."

I first learnt of Horcruxes from Mephostophiles. I was eager to learn what it could do, too eager. Many a days I demanded to risk expulsion on both my followers' accounts and mine as I snuck off with the demon king as he showed me what a Horcrux could do. As the trips grew more frequent, I grew more impatient. I knew I was ready to make my own. But before that, I needed to complete my research. So I went to find Slughorn.

It was a mistake. I knew the moment the question slipped from between my lips. I regret trusting him. I shudder to think I placed my trust in anyone at all.

Mephostophiles told me that Horcruxes required sacrifices – sacrifices of life. "I can't just kill a student," I hissed. "I'll be found out, besides, Dumbledore is already on me with his eagle eyes because of the Chamber–"

"Then use thine Chamber," Mephostophiles said, "The Basilisk hast not killed yet, thou hast not fulfilled thine ancestor's wishes yet. Use the Chamber, boy, use the Chamber."

And so the girl was killed.

"The Horcrux is painful to make. To rip one's soul is no child's play, boy." Mephostophiles warned me. I took no heed.

When the time came I was all but ready. I was indeed foolish.

Thousands of invisible blades tore at my skin, cutting into me, twisting, and then tearing me into pieces. A sour sort of liquid found itself into my mouth, burning me from the inside. I saw flames spread from my throat down to my fingers, legs, toes, and they surged back, with searing pain, to my heart.

I felt as if my heart exploded, shredded into millions of bloody bits. I felt the sourness of the liquid eating my flesh away, corrosive-material-like, shriveling me into a burnt twig. There were numerous areas on what remained of my skin that boiled and bubbled into angry red sores. They stung deep into the nerves. It was an indescribably painful sensation, as if someone had plunged a dagger into me and ripped my open, with my innards hanging out, frostbitten by the chills of the Chamber.

Where was Mephostophiles now?

I hated the demon.

At last I felt my soul lift from my body and as I looked up at its shimmering beauty I felt a twinge of regret. For that one second I wondered if it was too late to turn back. I saw it split. I heard something scream – a bloodcurdling sound of both tremendous pain and bottomless sorrow. I saw Mephostophiles ripping my soul. His claws gripping its fragility, puncturing holes into the shining beacon of everything I was.

I had died that very day.

000

The procedure left no visible scars on my body. But at times I could feel a tender spot where a sore had sprung, or a sudden pang as if on my body had been slashed open.

Summers later, immediately after my graduation, I made my way to Little Hangleton and found the pathetic wretch that was my uncle. By him, I found my way to the Riddle House.

I met my father and talked to him. I no longer remember the exact exchange, but I did remember the coarseness of his tone. It hurt me. His parents', my grandparents', snobbery irked me. A sudden rage coursed through me. And Mephostophiles added fuel to the fire as he whispered to me a possibility. "Allow me entrance into thy body and I shall purge these impertinent fools from thine sight. Make a second Horcrux through me and thy shall feel no pain."

With the sufferings of the last Horcrux still etched clear into my mind, I agreed. Right then and there I called Mephostophiles into my body.

"In that event, what hast become of Faust shall becometh of thou." Said the demon. To my horror, he possessed me.

In a way I achieved what I had always wanted. I was no longer human. But in the process I lost something very important to me. I lost freedom. The demon and I were forever trapped inside this physical world. I was forever enveloped in pain. I no longer performed evils, committed murders or waged wars for my personal gain – no, it was because I had to. It was because that was the demon's very last promise to me…

000

"The one with the power
To vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ...
Born to those who have thrice defied him,
Born as the seventh month dies ...
And the Dark Lord will mark him as equal,
But he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ...
And either must die at the hand of the other
For neither can live while the other survives."

A/N:

Moral of the story? There's nothing more comforting on your death bed than knowing that you've lived a righteous life.

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