Chapter 11: A Truth Revealed
The dim glow of the candle flickered in the quiet room, casting long, dancing shadows across the walls. Charles sat at the desk, the Hufflepuff Cup resting in front of him. The task he had spent months preparing for was now within his grasp. He had stolen it from the vault, evaded Gringotts' security, and escaped undetected. Now, he was faced with the grim responsibility of destroying it.
The Horcruxes had haunted him since the moment he learned of their existence—fragments of Voldemort's dark soul scattered across the world, infecting objects with their twisted magic. The Cup was no different. It radiated dark energy, pulsing with a malevolent force that seemed to breathe with a life of its own. Charles could feel it, even now, as if the Cup were aware of his presence.
But he was ready. The Guardian System had guided him through countless tasks, unlocking abilities that would make the impossible possible. He had already learned to manipulate curses, bypassing their protections and their dark power. Now, he was about to apply those skills to destroy a piece of Voldemort's soul, to cleanse the world of this lingering evil once and for all.
Charles closed his eyes for a moment, centering himself. The Curse Resistance ability hummed softly within him, the familiar weight of it a reassurance. It would shield him from the worst of the Cup's magical backlash, allowing him to focus on the task at hand. But even with that, the power of the Cup was unlike anything he had encountered before. He would need more than just his usual abilities.
Taking a deep breath, he reached out with his hand, the cool metal of the Cup smooth under his fingertips.
"System," he muttered under his breath, his voice steady. "Help me destroy the Horcrux."
The familiar voice of the Guardian System echoed in his mind. Task recognized. Accessing Destroy Horcrux protocol.
Charles nodded. He had come to trust the System completely. Over the past year, it had guided him, honed his abilities, and taught him how to wield powers he never imagined possible. Now, it would help him complete the final step.
Initiating process. Analyze object for embedded soul fragment...
For a brief moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. The Cup shuddered, as though reacting to the System's presence. Then, the System spoke again.
Soul fragment located. Transferring curse energies to ambient power source. Activation in progress.
Charles could feel the power shift, the dark energy within the Cup beginning to recoil, as if it sensed the danger. The light in the room dimmed further, and a cold breeze swept across his skin. The Cup vibrated violently, sending waves of dark magic through the air.
But Charles was unmoved.
Warning: instability detected. Fragment will resist transfer.
The Cup seemed to flare, its cursed aura thickening in the air, almost tangible. Charles could feel his heart rate quicken, but he took another deep breath. He knew this moment would be difficult—he had been preparing for it for months.
"System, reinforce the transfer," he whispered, his grip tightening on the Cup.
Affirmative. Applying pressure. Transference underway.
The air crackled with energy as the curse embedded in the Cup fought against the System's will. The floor beneath Charles' feet trembled slightly, the walls seeming to press in on him as he focused every ounce of his being on the task. The Cup was beginning to disintegrate, its surface cracking, tiny fissures forming as the fragment of Voldemort's soul was slowly, painfully, drawn out.
Charles gritted his teeth, sweat beading on his forehead. The process was taking longer than he had anticipated. He could feel the Cup's curse growing stronger, pushing back against the System's efforts. His body ached as the magic pressed against his protective barriers.
But the System did not falter.
Fragment located... Releasing energies. Transference completed.
There was a final, explosive surge of power as the Cup shattered, disintegrating into a thousand pieces, each fragment dissolving into the air like dust. The dark energy that had once filled the room dissipated, leaving only the faintest echo behind.
Charles let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. His body felt drained, but the job was done. The Cup—the final piece of Voldemort's soul embedded in the Horcrux—was destroyed. The dark magic that had lingered in the world for years was gone.
For a moment, Charles sat back in his chair, his muscles sore from the strain of the task. He had done it. One more Horcrux down. But there was no time for celebration.
As the dust settled, Charles' thoughts shifted to the next step. He had succeeded in destroying the Cup, but there were still three more Horcruxes to deal with: Nagini, the Diadem, and the most personal one of all—Harry's scar.
He closed his eyes, considering the road ahead. He had already planned how to approach the remaining Horcruxes, but the next task, the one involving Harry, was particularly delicate. Harry's scar had been the seat of Voldemort's influence for years—an unwanted, lingering piece of the Dark Lord's soul that could not be destroyed with mere force.
But Charles had a plan. He had learned from the Curse Removal task he had completed, when he had transferred the curse from the sword into the metal rod. The process had involved removing a curse and redirecting its energies into something else—a different object, a different form of containment. It had worked, but now Charles needed to adapt the process to the unique challenge that was Harry's scar.
He reached for the System once more.
"System," he murmured, as the familiar voice echoed in his mind. "I need to transfer the Horcrux from Harry's scar into something else. Help me learn how."
Task recognized. Activating Horcrux removal protocol.
Charles felt a familiar surge of energy within him, as though the System was gathering its power for a new challenge. The voice spoke again, this time with a measured calmness that mirrored his own thoughts.
In order to transfer a Horcrux, the soul fragment must first be identified and isolated. Once this is done, the curse energy can be redirected into a new container. Initiating analysis of the target. Recommended containment options: an inert object, one with no previous connection to the soul fragment.
Charles nodded. That made sense. The key to transferring the Horcrux would be isolating the fragment of Voldemort's soul from Harry's mind. But Harry's scar was different—it was living, breathing, part of Harry himself. Charles could not simply cut it out, nor could he transfer the soul fragment without endangering Harry. The object of transfer would have to be carefully chosen.
"System," he said quietly, "what kind of object can I use? What will be able to contain this fragment without damaging Harry?"
Analyzing. Recommended object: a gemstone of high magical affinity. Transference of soul fragments is most effective when placed into an object with an inherent, stable connection to magic. Gemstones with a history of magical use are preferable. Sample objects: bloodstone, black opal, obsidian.
Charles pondered this for a moment. A gemstone. Something that had a natural connection to magic, but not so closely tied to the world of dark curses that it would resist the transference. A bloodstone might work—a stone with historical associations with protection and healing.
He nodded to himself. This was the path forward. But first, he would need to speak with Harry. He had to ensure that Harry understood what would be happening, though he had no intention of revealing the full scope of the danger he was in. It was better that Harry not know just how closely Voldemort's influence had lingered.
With the plan forming in his mind, Charles leaned back, his hands still trembling from the strain of the Cup's destruction. He had one more task left to complete—removing the Horcrux from Harry. After that, only two more Horcruxes remained: Nagini and the Diadem.
But for now, he allowed himself a brief moment of rest. There was much work left to do.
The fire flickered quietly in the hearth, but Harry felt no warmth from it. He sat stiffly in the armchair, his legs crossed tightly, his hands clutching his knees as if he might need to hold himself together. Charles had just said the words—Voldemort's soul is inside you—and Harry couldn't seem to shake them from his mind. They echoed in his thoughts, louder with each passing second, a constant pulse of dread that made his stomach churn.
"W..what?" Harry uttered, he couldn't have heard that right, right? He looked at his uncle with confusion and fear in his eyes.
Charles sat across from him, his hands folded tightly in his lap, his face drawn with a seriousness Harry had never seen before. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The silence was heavy, oppressive, and Harry wasn't sure if he wanted to speak or if he just wanted to disappear into the shadows.
"Harry…" Charles finally broke the silence, his voice calm but steady. "There's something inside of you, Harry. A part of Voldemort's soul. It's been with you since the night he tried to kill you."
Harry's heart skipped a beat. His fingers went instinctively to his forehead, his scar burning faintly beneath his touch. He had never thought there was anything more to it. It had always just been a scar, a reminder of that night. But now… now Uncle Charles was telling him it was something far worse.
"I know this is hard to understand," Charles continued, his voice soft, but insistent. "But the piece of Voldemort's soul—it's been latched onto you ever since that night. I think it's what saved you, Harry. It's why you survived when he sent the killing curse at you. It latched onto your soul and kept you bound to life."
Harry blinked, his mind spinning. "A piece of Voldemort's soul? But… but I've never felt anything strange. I don't feel him. I don't hear him or see him. How can that be?"
Charles gave a small, reassuring smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "That's the thing, Harry. You've never felt it because it's been dormant, hidden. It hasn't been controlling you. It won't. And it never will."
Harry's breath caught in his throat. The idea that there was a piece of Voldemort inside him—the most feared dark wizard of all time, the one who had destroyed everything—was more terrifying than he could comprehend. The very thought of it made his skin crawl. But Charles' next words cut through the growing panic.
"Harry, listen to me," Charles said, leaning forward, his gaze unwavering. "This part of Voldemort inside you… it's never taken control of you. It hasn't been able to. You're not like him. You never have been. But that doesn't mean it's not dangerous."
Harry's pulse quickened at the word dangerous. His mind raced, trying to piece it all together. "But what does that mean for me? What happens now?"
Charles placed a hand on the armrest of the chair, his voice firm and steady. "It means we need to remove it, Harry. As long as that piece of him is inside you, it's dangerous. It's a reminder of the darkness he left behind, and even though it hasn't controlled you, we can't let it stay. It needs to be destroyed. For your safety, and for the safety of everyone around you."
Harry felt as though his world was shifting beneath his feet. A piece of Voldemort's soul, a dark, twisted part of the person who had destroyed his family, was in him, in his body, in his mind. He wanted to recoil, to push it all away, but Charles was right. He couldn't ignore it. It had to be dealt with.
"But…" Harry's voice faltered, and his fingers drifted to his scar again, the mark that had always been there, a constant reminder of that night. "How? How do we get rid of it? And what if it's too late? What if it does control me one day?"
Charles shook his head, his voice gentle but insistent. "No, Harry. It won't. It hasn't before, and it won't now. I promise you. This piece of Voldemort's soul can't control you. You're too strong, Harry. You're not like him. You never will be."
Harry's chest tightened, his thoughts racing. "But how do we remove it, then?"
Charles' expression softened with a hint of understanding, his voice lowering. "There's a way to do it, Harry. It won't be easy, but we have the means. I've been working on a method to transfer it, to move it out of you. We'll put it somewhere safe, where it can't harm you, and then we can destroy it completely. It's the only way."
Harry's eyes widened. The idea of removing something from his very being, something so deeply entwined with him, was beyond terrifying. The scar that had once seemed like such a simple reminder of a tragic past now felt like a prison. But even in the face of the fear, there was something else, something buried deep within him—a sense of hope. Charles was right. He wasn't like Voldemort. He could fight this. He would fight this.
"But how long do we have?" Harry asked, his voice hoarse, the words spilling out before he could stop them. "How long before it starts to… change me? How long before it gets too strong?"
Charles' expression tightened for a brief moment, and Harry could see the seriousness of the situation in his eyes. "We don't know. The longer it stays inside you, the greater the risk. But that's why we need to act quickly. We can't let it grow stronger. We have to take it out before it can do any harm."
Harry shuddered at the thought of something so dark, so powerful, living inside him. But Charles was here. He wasn't alone. And Charles was offering him a way out, a way to finally rid himself of this curse, once and for all.
"Will it hurt?" Harry asked, the fear in his voice evident now. "Removing it?"
Charles hesitated, and Harry could see the weight of the answer in his eyes. "It will be painful, Harry. It's not going to be easy. But I will be with you every step of the way. And when it's done, when it's gone, you will be free."
Harry took a shaky breath, nodding slowly, though his heart still pounded in his chest. He wanted to be free of the darkness. He wanted to believe that he wasn't carrying this weight forever. He wanted to trust that Charles would get rid of it for good.
"I'm ready," Harry said quietly, his voice trembling but resolute. "Let's do it. Let's get it out."
Charles smiled softly, his eyes filled with pride and affection. "We'll do it together, Harry. You don't have to face this alone. And I promise you, once it's gone, it will never come back."
For the first time since the revelation, Harry allowed himself to believe it. The fear still gripped him, but it was tempered now by a glimmer of hope. He wasn't alone. He had Charles. And together, they would rid him of the darkness that had been haunting him for so long.
Charles stood up and moved to the fireplace, pausing as he turned back to Harry. "We'll begin as soon as you're ready. But you don't need to be afraid. I've got you." Harry nodded, the knot in his stomach easing just a little.
The room felt heavier now, the air charged with a tension that Harry couldn't shake. He sat there, his hands gripping the edges of the couch, his heart pounding in his chest. Charles was in front of him, calm, focused, preparing to do something Harry still didn't fully understand. It was hard to put into words what he was feeling right now—fear, yes, but also confusion. Why had he never known about this before? Why had this dark piece of Voldemort been inside him all along?
He felt the scar on his forehead, the mark that had always been there, the thing that had made him different from other kids. But now, hearing the truth—he had a piece of Voldemort inside him—he couldn't help but feel like something inside him had shifted. Something so dark had been a part of him for so long. How had he never known? And why hadn't anyone ever told him?
Charles, sensing his growing anxiety, looked at Harry with understanding. His expression was calm, but there was an undeniable seriousness in his eyes.
"You're going to be okay, Harry," Charles said gently, kneeling down in front of him. "This is going to work. You're not going to be controlled by it. The piece of Voldemort's soul is inside you, but it's never had control over you. And it never will. But it's very important that we remove it. For you, for your future."
Harry swallowed hard, his throat tight. "But… how? How are we going to get rid of it? It's been inside me for so long. I don't even know what it feels like."
Charles took a deep breath and stood, moving across the room to a small table where a velvet pouch lay. He opened it slowly, revealing a bloodstone nestled inside. Its dark red hue almost seemed to glow faintly in the dim light, like it pulsed with some kind of energy. The stone looked… ordinary, but Harry knew better than to assume anything was as it seemed in the magical world.
"This is enchanted," Charles said, his voice steady and reassuring. He hated that he had to lie about the stone being enchanted, but it was the only thing he could come up with to explain the stone without letting Harry know about his System. "I've had it prepared for this moment. Once we transfer the piece of Voldemort's soul into it, it will hold it safely until we can destroy it."
Harry's eyes widened as he looked at the bloodstone. It was hard to fathom that something so small could hold something so dangerous, something so dark. But Charles was so calm, and Harry found himself clinging to that calmness, trying to calm his own racing thoughts.
"You'll feel it, Harry," Charles continued. "I'm going to use the enchantments on the bloodstone to pull the piece of Voldemort's soul from your scar. It won't be easy, it's going to be painful. Just breathe and stay as still as you can. Trust me."
Harry nodded slowly, his throat still tight with fear. He didn't know what to expect. He had never even known about the horcrux inside him until moments ago, and now Charles was telling him they could get rid of it. His mind was still reeling with the implications, but he had to trust Charles. He had no one else to turn to, and Charles had always been there for him.
Charles placed the bloodstone carefully on the table in front of Harry, his movements deliberate, focused. Then he turned to face Harry once again, his expression softening.
"Don't worry," Charles said quietly. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you. You're safe now."
Harry felt a strange sense of relief at Charles' words. But there was still a part of him that was terrified, a part that wasn't sure if he could fully believe this could work. He had never felt so vulnerable. But the reassurance in Charles' voice gave him a small sense of hope, a belief that maybe, just maybe, he wasn't alone in this.
Charles took a deep breath, his hand holding the stone hovering over Harry's forehead, inches from his scar. Harry braced himself for something, though he wasn't sure what.
"Here we go," Charles said quietly. "Just stay calm, Harry. Focus on your breathing."
The moment the stone made contact with Harry's forehead, Charles instructed his system to begin the transfer protocol and a cold wave of energy surged through Harry's body, starting at his scar and sweeping down into the depths of his chest. It was unlike anything Harry had ever felt—cold, sharp, and somehow heavy, like the weight of the world had descended upon him in an instant. His breath hitched, and he had to fight to keep from jerking away from the sensation. It was as though something was pulling at him from the inside, like a knot being undone, something dark being drawn out of him.
His scar burned sharply, the pain blinding for a moment. He clenched his teeth, forcing himself to remain still, trying to follow Charles' instructions. The sensation seemed to go on forever, though it must have only been moments, his world spinning, his heart racing.
"Stay with me, Harry," Charles' voice broke through the chaos, calm and steady. "Focus. You're almost there."
Harry gritted his teeth, trying to fight through the overwhelming cold and pain. It felt like a part of him was being torn away, a jagged piece being ripped from his very soul. He wanted to scream, to shout, to tell Charles to stop. But he held on, reminding himself that this was for the best, that he needed to be rid of this piece of Voldemort for good.
Then, as if on cue, the pain suddenly faded. The coldness dissipated. Harry opened his eyes, gasping for air, sweat beading on his forehead. The scar no longer burned, but there was a strange emptiness where the pain had once been. His breathing was shallow, ragged as he looked at Charles, whose hand was still on his forehead.
"It's done," Charles said softly, his voice filled with quiet relief. "The piece of Voldemort's soul is gone from you, Harry. It's in the bloodstone now."
Harry slowly exhaled, feeling an odd sense of lightness that he hadn't noticed before. It was as if a weight had been lifted from his chest, something dark and heavy had been removed, and now he could breathe more easily. His scar no longer felt like it belonged to someone else, and the mark on his forehead no longer seemed like the terrifying symbol of evil it had once been.
But then, Harry looked at the bloodstone on the table, its deep red glow faint but undeniable, and his relief was tempered by a pang of unease.
"What do we do with it now?" he asked quietly, his voice almost a whisper. "It's still there. Voldemort's soul… it's still inside that stone."
Charles smiled faintly and nodded. "Yes, but for now, it's contained. We'll destroy it, Harry. I promise. But now… now you're free. You'll be able to grow up without that piece of Voldemort inside you."
Harry nodded slowly, still feeling the weight of the bloodstone on his mind. He felt free—truly free for the first time in his life—but there was still the matter of destroying that piece of Voldemort. It wasn't over. Not yet.
"I'll keep you safe," Charles said quietly, reading the concern on Harry's face. "And we'll destroy the bloodstone. I won't let anything happen to you."
The tension in the room slowly faded as Harry's breathing evened out, his face softening into the peaceful expression of someone who had just been through something monumental but had come out on the other side. Charles could see it in the boy's eyes—the relief, the weariness, the quiet gratitude.
"You're safe, Harry," Charles said softly, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Get some rest now. You've been through a lot tonight, and you need to let your body and mind recover."
Harry nodded, though he didn't immediately stand up. His gaze lingered on the bloodstone on the table, the dark stone now holding the very essence of Voldemort. A strange sense of finality hung in the air, but it was tinged with something else—something that couldn't be shaken off so easily.
"Are you sure it's… done? It won't hurt me again?" Harry asked, his voice small, almost vulnerable.
Charles smiled softly, trying to be as reassuring as possible. He reached out, gently cupping Harry's face in his hand, looking into his eyes. "Yes. The dark part of Voldemort that was inside you is gone. It's safely contained now. You don't have to worry about it anymore."
Harry let out a long breath, as if something had just released its grip on him. His eyes flicked toward the bed, and Charles could see the exhaustion creeping in. After everything that had happened, Harry needed rest. It had been a long night of emotional upheaval and physical strain, and now was the time to let him recuperate.
"I'll be right here, Harry. Go to bed. You're safe," Charles added, giving him a final reassuring smile.
Harry hesitated for a moment, then nodded again, standing slowly. As he made his way to his bed, Charles watched him carefully. He knew the boy's mind was still reeling with the enormity of what had just transpired, but Harry was resilient. Charles had seen him go through so much already, and he had no doubt that Harry would be alright. It was just a matter of time.
Once Harry had climbed into bed, pulled the covers up around him, and closed his eyes, Charles lingered by the door for a moment, just watching. The boy seemed at peace for now, his breath steady and even as sleep began to claim him.
Charles gave a final glance toward the bloodstone, still sitting on the table where they had left it.
I've made my promise to him. The horcrux is gone from him, and now it's time to keep my promise to myself.
With that thought firmly in mind, Charles turned and moved toward the table, his hand brushing against the bloodstone. His mind was focused, the resolve within him sharpening. He had known all along that this moment would come—the moment where the horcrux, contained within the stone, would be destroyed. Harry was free, but Charles wouldn't rest until the last vestiges of Voldemort's influence were erased for good.
As his fingers brushed the bloodstone, a surge of energy coursed through Charles, like a silent call from the System. He had anticipated this moment, and he could feel the familiar presence of the System's power, almost as if it was waiting for him to take action.
Taking a deep breath, he spoke softly to the empty room, the air thick with anticipation. "System, I'm ready to destroy the horcrux."
A soft, familiar hum of energy echoed in his mind, and the System's voice was clear in his thoughts.
The task of destruction is acknowledged. Confirm intent.
Charles' gaze shifted to the bloodstone, the artifact that held a piece of Voldemort's soul. The stone gleamed under the dim light, a faint red glow pulsing from within, as if it were a heartbeat.
"Destroy it. Make sure it can never hurt anyone again," Charles replied, his voice firm. He had no room for hesitation. This was the end of something that had begun long before Harry was even born.
Affirmative. Transfer of Horcrux energy to a safe destruction mechanism will be initiated.
The System's response was instant, and Charles could feel the surge of energy flowing through him, concentrating around the bloodstone in his hand. The air around the stone seemed to shift, becoming heavier, as though the very atmosphere was holding its breath.
The System's interface flickered to life in Charles' mind. A faint blue outline appeared around the bloodstone, as if invisible forces were converging on it. Charles' focus sharpened, and he held the stone firmly in his hand, closing his eyes for a moment to center himself.
Using the knowledge of previous destruction tasks... Initiating transfer.
Charles was aware of a shift in the air, an energy swirling inside the bloodstone. His heart raced as he felt the power building, a surge of energy so concentrated that it felt as if it could tear through the very fabric of space and time itself. The System had given him the tools, and now it was time to put them to use. He had done this before—he had destroyed Marvolo Gaunt's ring, the locket—but this felt different. The weight of this destruction was more personal.
With a steady hand, Charles whispered the words of the System's process—words that were now familiar, a mantra that helped him maintain his control over the energy.
Transferring dark energy into containment mechanism... Process of destruction initiated.
Charles felt it then—the intense pressure within the bloodstone. The power of the horcrux, the fragment of Voldemort's soul, was fighting back, struggling to maintain its hold. He could feel the resistance—like a powerful undercurrent beneath the surface. But Charles wasn't afraid. He had been prepared for this.
Slowly, carefully, he began to press the stone into the palm of his other hand, letting the energy build. His mind was focused completely on the task at hand. His heart hammered in his chest as he felt the dark presence within the stone begin to disintegrate, fading into nothingness, as though it were being consumed by the force of his own will.
Transfer complete. Destruction of Horcrux fragment initiated.
The stone's surface cracked suddenly, the sound sharp and almost deafening in the stillness of the room. A rush of dark energy spiraled outward for just a split second, but then it collapsed in on itself. The red glow of the stone dulled and died, leaving the stone shattered in Charles' hand. It was over.
Charles exhaled deeply, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over him. He'd done it. The horcrux was gone.
He held the pieces of the bloodstone in his hand, and for a long moment, all he could do was stare at it. It was a symbol of everything they had just overcome—a tangible reminder that Voldemort's influence, which had plagued Harry for so long, had finally been eradicated.
The System's voice broke through his thoughts, its tone neutral as always.
Horcrux destruction complete. Confirmation of successful task.
Charles closed his eyes, leaning against the table, his mind still reeling from the intense focus and energy of the task. It was done. He had kept his promise to Harry.
His body felt heavy, his movements sluggish, as if the weight of the past few days had suddenly caught up with him. But he felt… lighter. Relieved. And as he looked back toward Harry, who was still sound asleep in his bed, a sense of peace settled over him. Harry would never have to worry about the scar again. And for that, Charles was thankful.
With one final glance at the shattered bloodstone, Charles turned away from the table. He moved quietly to Harry's side, watching the boy sleep peacefully.
He would protect Harry. He would keep him safe.