Kindred Spirits

by Tailkinker

This is a work of fan fiction based on the Harry Potter series and the Sailor Moon franchise created respectively by J.K. Rowling and Naoko Takeuchi. The characters and settings belong to their respective owners and no copyright infringement is intended. This story is written purely for entertainment purposes and should not be considered as part of the official canon of either series.

Mindscape Unveiled

Harry opened his eyes.

He was surrounded by whiteness. He sat up slowly, thinking he was back at the Gates, but all he saw around him was more whiteness. Nothing but white as far as the eye could see. The silence was eerie; he could hear his own heartbeat, which seemed unnaturally slow.

"Mr Potter."

He turned, to see Professor Snape. The man's black hair and robes seemed like an inkstain on the whiteness of their surroundings.

"Professor," he said. "What's going on? I thought—"

"That you would sleep through the procedure," finished Snape. "That is what I intended. However, there's been a complication."

"There always is," said Harry. "What is it this time?"

Snape gestured behind Harry. "See for yourself."

"Harry Potter." The voice was high, cold and so very familiar. "We meet again."

Harry turned again, and found himself facing Tom Riddle. It was an older Riddle than had appeared in the Chamber of Secrets, being in early middle age, but it was still clearly the same man.

And Harry remembered what Riddle looked like now: the gaunt, serpentine appearance of the man, completely bald and clearly aged.

"What are you doing here?" snarled Harry. He turned to Snape. "I thought we did this so that he couldn't intrude."

"We did," said Snape. "You see, this man here is only one small part of Voldemort. A fragment, attached to your scar." Snape took a step closer, sneering at the man. "This is how he was able to access your thoughts. And I must apologize, Mr Potter." He looked as though he hated to say it. "But no amount of Occlumency training would have been able to prevent him from accessing your thoughts. With that connection present, Voldemort would always be able to send you images, see through your eyes...possibly even possess you."

"Then was all this for nothing?" asked Harry.

"Not at all," said Snape, a slight smile creasing his face. "This procedure can seal off that connection. And now that we are aware of this connection, we can use it to our advantage."

"You were always clever, Severus," said Tom. "But you cannot hope to match the powers of Lord Voldemort."

"But we're not up against Lord Voldemort," said Snape. "We are only up against a memory of Voldemort, trapped in a boy's head."

Harry's eyes widened. "A memory. Like the diary?"

Severus glanced at Harry, one eyebrow raised. "Very much like the diary, in fact." He turned back to Voldemort. "How many did you make?"

"How many what?" asked Harry.

Snape sighed, and turned back to Harry. "You can be quite irritating at times, you know? Much like your father—"

"Unlike my father," snapped Harry, "I'm neither a prankster nor a bully. Did you learn that behaviour from him, or was it the other way around?"

"No, you're much more like Lily, aren't you?" Snape snickered, much to Harry's surprise. "The diary was a dark artifact called a horcrux. It is a way to preserve the soul after death. Well," he amended, "to preserve a part of the soul, anyway."

"But I destroyed the diary myself," said Harry. "How is he still alive?"

"Clearly," said Snape, "he created more than one." His voice dripped disdain. "And I ask the question again: How many did you make?"

"There is no way you can force me to tell you," said Voldemort, disdain dripping from his voice. "You haven't got the power or the skill."

"I think," said Snape, "that you will find that here, Mr Potter holds all the cards." He glanced back to Harry. "Well, Mr Potter? How many did he make?"

From long experience, Harry knew how to access foreign memories. He focused his Occlumency inward, and felt himself falling.

"I wonder if I might have a word, Professor Slughorn," said Tom, a thoughtful glint in his eyes.

Harry didn't recognize the man who Riddle spoke to; he appeared to be in his middle years, however, and given that Tom Riddle attended Hogwarts more than fifty years before Harry, it was entirely possible that he had retired. Professor Slughorn was a bulky man, almost on par with Harry's Uncle Vernon, though his face showed lines that implied that he smiled far more often than he scowled. He was balding, but had a bushy mustache that made him look a bit like a walrus.

"Certainly, Tom," said Slughorn. "Is it related to your studies, or your Prefect duties?"

"My personal studies," said Riddle. "I was doing some research in the Restricted Section, and I came across a term I was unfamiliar with. What exactly is a horcrux?"

Slughorn winced. "That's very dark magic, Tom. You're not interested in pursuing such things, are you?"

"No, Sir," said Tom quickly. "But I don't even know what it is, and I'm afraid that without that context—"

"Well, I can tell you," replied Professor Slughorn. "But don't go spreading it around. A horcrux is the darkest of magics. It's a way of preserving one's life after death. You split off a section of your soul, and seal it up in an object. So long as that object is intact, you cannot truly die."

"Split your soul?" asked Tom. "How would you do such a thing?"

"By committing the darkest of crimes," said Slughorn quietly. "The cold-blooded murder of an innocent person. Doing such a thing fractures the soul. It can be healed, over time, through remorse and self-reflection, but if this is not done, the fragment can break free. It might then be lost, leaving you less than you were. Or it might be sealed up in a horcrux."

Riddle seemed to consider this, then asked, "Why only one, Sir? Wouldn't it be better, if one were inclined to do such a thing, to split the soul six times? Then you'd have six horcruces, plus your own soul, for seven parts. And seven is a very powerful number, magically speaking."

Slughorn appeared to have been struck dumb. "Six times? My dear boy, what would be left would be nothing more than an insane monster. To split your soul once would be bad enough, but to do it six times...?" He shook his head. "No, Tom. Put the idea out of your mind. I hope what I've told you will help with your research, but I'd hate to learn that you'd considered this a viable path. Some things are better left un-done."

"Yes, Sir." Tom nodded, then stepped back. "Anyway. I've got Professor Dumbledore first thing tomorrow. I should head to bed."

"Yes," said Slughorn, visibly relieved at the change of subject. "NEWT-level transfiguration is one of the harder subjects. You'll need your rest."

"Good night, Sir." Tom nodded to the professor, and turned for the door.

"NEWT-level Transfiguration," said Harry. "That means sixth year or higher." He turned to face Voldemort. "So you already knew what a horcrux was. You'd already made one—the diary. You were trying to find out if you could make more."

Voldemort sneered at him. "Mere speculation."

But Harry shook his head. "No, I don't think so. In fact, I'd be willing to wager that you'd already made a second. You didn't look entirely the same...something had changed you, since your fifth year. I think that you were trying to discover how far you could go—should you continue making more? Or should you stop at the two you already had? After all," he pointed out, "three is also a magically powerful number."

"And Slughorn did not give him the information he desired," continued Snape. "He prevaricated. Left him with no more answers."

"Where else could he have sought it?" asked Harry. "Professor Dumbledore wouldn't have told him anything."

"I believe that he would have next turned to the Black family," said Snape. "Several of that family have been loyal supporters of his; getting access to their libraries would have been child's play."

"Do not ignore me!" snarled Voldemort. "You speak of me as though I were not here!"

"Well, you're not," said Harry cheekily. "So be quiet. You're distracting the adults."

Snape snickered, then said, "Can you attempt to determine what items he chose to create his horcruces?"

"I can try," said Harry. He closed his eyes, and sought out the memory.

"I know that Mr Burke is very interested in my collection." The speaker was an old woman, who appeared to have entered her second century. Her white hair was unstyled and wild, and her eyes appeared to be dulled by cataracts. Tom Riddle sat across from her—a bit older than the version that Harry had seen in the previous memory, and dressed in well-cut and understated robes.

"As anybody would be, Mrs Smith," said Tom. His eyes darted around the room, and Harry could see a gleam of covetousness in them. "It's quite an exhaustive collection."

"Call me Hepzibah, Tom," said the old woman. "We've been friends for almost a year now, haven't we?" She chuckled. "Though I still think you're only nice to this old girl because of my artifacts. No matter; you've been good company." She paused. "Though I expect that Mr Burke is expecting you to bring back something of interest for him today?"

"Actually, no," said Tom. "I'm not here on Mr Burke's instruction. I'd heard that you had a few items of true antiquity. Dating back to the founders, in fact. I had a personal interest in these, but if I were here on Mr Burke's orders..." He smiled thinly. "Well, I'd have to mention them to him. And I find I'd rather not."

"You are a good boy, Tom." Mrs Smith smiled toothlessly. "Let me show you my finest pieces. Hokey!"

A House Elf stepped out of the shadows. Harry noted that she was quite old as well—nearly as old as Kreacher, Sirius' House Elf. "Yes, Mistress?"

"Can you fetch the cup, please? You know the one."

"Yes, Mistress." Hokey stepped back into the shadows, and vanished. Then reappeared with a carved wooden box. Mrs Smith took the box from her, and slowly opened it. Within lay a golden goblet. Harry could see a badge on its surface, and could just make out a badger embossed on the badge.

"It's well known that the Smith family descends from Helga Hufflepuff," said Mrs Smith. "Oh, it's a long, convoluted path, but it remains the most direct path. As such, this cup—crafted by Helga herself—has been in our family for almost a thousand years." She set the box aside, then reached under her tunic and withdrew a locket. "And this piece..." She held it up, displaying the serpents engraved on the doors. "Well, I might have been a Hufflepuff, like almost all of my family, but this piece appears to have originally belonged to Salazar Slytherin."

Tom stared at the locket. "Really? I was a Slytherin, myself."

"Oh, I know," said Hepzibah. "Sadly, nobody else in the family wants this piece. When I pass, I've willed it to Hogwarts. The cup, alas, I cannot do the same, as too many of my family want it. It would have gone to Malcolm, but he was lost in the war against Grindelwald. So I expect it will go to Robert."

Harry didn't recognize any of those names, though he did think of Zacharias Smith in his year. Perhaps he was related to this old lady?

"Well, they are beautiful pieces," said Tom. "Thank you for satisfying my curiosity."

"Anything for you, Tom," said Hepzibah.

They made small talk for a minute longer, than Tom rose to leave. Harry watched as he paused in the kitchen, and pulled a small phial from his robes. He tipped the contents of the phial into a sugar dish, then continued on his way.

"He killed her," said Harry. "And then he took the cup and the locket."

"Artifacts of the Founders," mused Snape. "Unfortunately, I doubt you'll be able to get more out of him."

"It was harder getting that last memory," said Harry. He rubbed his temple, though he was aware that, in this mindscape, it certainly wouldn't help. "I couldn't actually see him looting the artifacts."

"We'll have to proceed with what we have," said Snape. He raised his wand. "I'll wall him off, now, so he cannot report back to the real Voldemort."

Harry raised his hand. "Sir? Is there any way that you could leave...like, a one-way window? So I can still get images from him, but he can't read my mind?"

Snape paused. "I could. But you do know that he will only use that to try to mislead you."

"Perhaps," said Harry. "But if I'm aware of that, it will be harder for him to do so. And the information gained that way could be useful."

Snape nodded. "How Slytherin of you, Mr Potter. Very well; we shall do so."