26th January, 1993
At the sharp knock on the door into his private laboratory, Severus let out a heavy sigh. He'd hardly even managed to assemble the components he would need to restock Poppy's swiftly dwindling supply of calming potions and sleeping draughts — of course it'd been too much to hope that he'd be able to get some actual work done.
He set down the bottle of powdered moonstone, the glass lightly clunking against the wood, and took a moment to bury the exhausted frustration somewhere it would not be seen. (Children were as likely to strike at any sign of weakness as Dark Lords.) Forcing a vicious scowl on his face, he turned on a heel, his robes snapping around him, stalked sharply over to the door, yanked it roughly open, the wards that sealed it crackling at the disturbance. "What could possibly be—" He cut himself off at the familiar mind behind the familiar face of the older man standing a short distance away. "Ah, Argus, excuse me," he said, voice dropping from a thick snarl to smooth calm in a blink. "I assumed you would be a student."
Argus sneered at the reference to his eternal enemy, though the expression was rather lacking something, only the faintest hint of jealous disdain sparking behind his eyes. Ever since Norris had been petrified, he had been diminished — an empty, cold, bitter shell of an already bitter man, haunting the Castle like an irascible, badly-dressed ghost. "I understand completely, Severus, believe me. I shouldn't want to interrupt, I know how busy Poppy's got you, but I found something at the scene of the crime. I think it might be dark magic," said with a sharp, angry curl to his voice. "I thought you'd be best to handle it."
It took some effort to hold back the urge to sigh. Argus had been understandably obsessive over the circumstances of Norris's petrification, and determined to uncover the perpetrator by the limited means available to him. It was not unusual for him to bring Severus some trinket or another he'd discovered or confiscated, convinced it housed some illicit magic — those visits had multiplied in recent months, Argus coming to him once a week if not more frequently. More often than not they were amulets some scam artist had sold to one credulous brat or another, as harmless as they were ineffective. It was, quite frankly, a waste of Severus's time.
However, it wouldn't do to discourage this particular habit. Being a squib, Argus was all but entirely incapable of identifying potentially dangerous magic, or protecting himself should he trigger something — someone should check suspicious contraband, and Severus was better qualified to do so than anyone on staff, with only the possible exception of Albus. There had been serious incidents with dangerous enchanted or alchemical objects in the years since Severus had begun teaching here, which could have easily been prevented if it had been brought to him first. If he could enforce a standing policy to show him anything suspicious before handling it, he would do so, no matter how much it might infringe on his brewing time.
So, instead of complaining about the imposition, he stepped back to hold the door open for Argus. "Very well. Let's see what you've found this time."
Argus stepped through, reaching into the bag slung over his shoulder as he went. By the time Severus had closed the door and turned to follow, Argus had retrieved a wooden case out of his bag and set it down on an empty counter — well away from the table Severus had been preparing his work at, since the ageing squib at least knew enough not to meddle with such things. There were runes scrawled across the surface of the wood, enchanted by Ashe as a vault to contain potentially dangerous materials or artefacts. Obviously, Argus would be ill-equipped to handle any manner of magical threats which might be found in the Castle, but with a little care he could be prepared to protect himself. After a certain incident involving a cursed painting some years ago now — before Severus had even begun his own time as a student, in fact — the professors had begun taking more measures to prepare Argus for such things, including supplying him with devices such as this one. It was not the first time Severus had seen them, many of the suspicious objects he was brought were contained within.
Once he saw he had Severus's attention, Argus said, "I found this in the bathroom there, the one what that Myrtle girl make a mess of. I think someone tried to flush it. It looks innocent enough, but it gave me an ill feeling, I packed it up and came straight to you."
"Very well." Severus wasn't entirely certain what was meant by an ill feeling, though he could tell that Argus had been quite unnerved. He was hiding it well enough, but mind mages needn't solely rely on reading faces — he felt tense, slightly jumpy, an echo of a creeping sense of eyes on the back of his neck, speaking of discovering the thing bringing the memory close to the surface. Perhaps it was merely paranoia, but perhaps Argus truly had found something this time. While squibs and muggles could not cast magic, they could still be sensitive to its presence, especially one who had learned a craft such as Argus had. Severus was still privately sceptical, but more interested than he'd been a moment ago, at any rate. "If you would allow me." As Argus retreated, Severus stepped up to the counter, unlatched the lock holding the lid closed, began to slide it open.
He never opened it all the way. He saw the dark iron of the internal surface of the case, a glimpse of what might be the leather cover of a book — but once the seal was broken, the magic contained within spilled out. The instant it brushed up against Severus's own aura, he snapped the lid closed again, adrenaline suddenly spanging through him head to toe, his heart racing and magic sparking at his fingertips and behind his eyes, reflexively drawn to defend himself. Even after the case was sealed again, the magic inside isolated once again, it took a long moment for Severus to find his voice, breath thin and harsh in his throat.
Never before had Severus come into contact with a horcrux, only read of them, but he still recognised it for what it was. It felt wrong, the mind and soul of a living being crammed into an object not suited to it, bound with rigid enchantment into an unnatural state of living death.
He'd felt the mind contained within reaching out toward him — the essence of a mind mage, certainly, the prison that held it loose enough to extend its influence beyond itself.
Even worse, he'd recognised that touch, decade-old nightmares looming out of the shadows like the sting of alcohol-tainted vomit.
In an instant, nothing made sense, and yet all at once everything seemed to become clear.
"Severus?" Argus asked — not for the first time, it seemed, a hand light on Severus's arm to draw his attention. "What is it?"
He hesitated for a breath, considering how much to share. Argus hardly had any sympathy for the Dark Lord, obviously, but he was also ill-equipped to guard any secrets he might possess — some things were not to be widely known. And yet, he had a right to know the significance of this thing, the contribution he had made to justice being done. If nothing else, bringing something such as this straight to Severus was an act which should certainly be encouraged. Yes, that would do nicely. "Congratulations, Argus," he said, his voice low and solemn. "You have just captured the Heir of Slytherin."
The sudden burst of shock and confusion from the man's mind was honestly rather funny, it took some effort for Severus to keep any sign of it from his face. "It... What are you on about? That thing," he snapped, indicating the case with a jerk of his thumb, "is responsible for all this mess?"
"It is — or, rather, the entity bound within it. It is... A demon, shall we say, is lurking hidden within. I suspect that is our true culprit, that it has been possessing a student through which it has worked its will."
"...I see." Argus did not see, but he was fully aware that Severus was much more familiar with the Dark Arts than he was, so was willing to take him at his word. "So it is dangerous, then."
"It is extremely dangerous. In fact, I must insist you go to Poppy immediately, to confirm it has not done anything to you in the brief moment during which you were in contact with it."
Scowling at him a little, irritation simmering behind his eyes, Argus said, "I'm no fool, I was wearing my gloves when I picked it up." Like the case, he had a pair of specially-enchanted gloves to handle suspicious objects with, which he kept on him at all times.
"I did not assume otherwise. This object works its evil through mind magic — you needn't touch it to be affected, merely within its vicinity."
"...Ah. Right, then." Argus was remembering the creeping, unsettling feeling he'd had from the moment he'd laid eyes on it until he'd gotten it sealed away in the case, cut off once the lid was closed, coming to the conclusion that that had been the horcrux worming into his mind. Which was likely correct, of course — that Argus had been capable of bringing it to Severus at all suggested it hadn't been able to unduly influence him in that short time, but he should still be examined. "I reckon I should go straight away, just to be safe."
"That would be wise, yes. I will show this to Albus, and we will dispose of it." Setting aside his own aversions for a moment, Severus reached to gently set a hand on Argus's upper arm. The gesture took him by surprise, blinking back at Severus, bemused. "It's over, Argus. Once this is disposed of, the petrifications will cease, Norris and the others will be revived as soon as we acquire fresh mandrake. Thank you for bringing this straight to me — I will ensure Albus knows of your contribution."
"I... Thank you, Severus." His mind churning with an unreadable mix of emotions, Argus's eyes turned from his, he shifted his weight, cleared his throat. "I should go see Poppy now."
"Very well. Go on." Once Argus had shuffled through the door, pulling it closed behind him again, Severus drew his wand — a moment of concentration, the light magic leaving an unpleasant numb burn behind, and the ephemeral blue-silver doe of a patronus stood before him. "Albus. Black, nightshade seven. Nest, sword, soonest." The message sent, Severus picked up the case containing the horcrux — his skin prickling at nervousness from being so close to it, even with barriers both physical and magical between them — and left the laboratory. It was a short walk to his apartments, thankfully uninterrupted. He had little enough patience for the trying trivialities of the children under his supervision at the best of times, and especially so when he was occupied.
The reply from Albus came shortly after he'd reached his sitting room. Grimacing a little at the heat of the light magic emanating from the spectral bird, Severus glared up at the thing — he found Albus's patronus defaulting to a phoenix of all things irrationally irritating. "I am alone and the office is secure. Come at once." Severus predicted which direction the message was heading well before it ceased, before the blue-silver light of the patronus had even faded he was already casting a pinch of floo powder into the hearth, and then he was gone.
When he arrived in the Headmaster's office, Albus was already making to stand, likely having begun to move as soon as he saw the fire flare green. "Severus. You have found something?"
"Argus found something, in fact. See for yourself." He walked up toward the desk, Albus coming around to meet him. Setting the case down on the desk, he took a step back, inviting Albus toward it with a tilt of his head. "Shield your mind."
There was a prickle of curiosity, one bushy white eyebrow arching up at him — but Albus took the warning seriously enough, in the next moment his mind thoroughly iced over behind solid occlumency. He stepped closer to the case, skeletal hands tense and pale eyes gleaming with curiosity, and hesitated for a moment, the tips of his fingers resting against the wood. And then, with a quick jerk of motion, he pushed the lid open halfway.
Immediately, tendrils of thought and magic burst out of containment, grasping toward both of them, an edge of desperation to the way it clung and clawed at Severus's mind. Firming himself against it, he allowed himself a grim little smirk — it seemed the cursed thing had realised it was in danger.
"Aahhh..." A queer, distant look on his face Severus didn't know how to read, for a moment Albus only gazed down at the leather-bound notebook nestled inside the iron-lined warded case. Then, slowly, he began to reach for it.
Lurching forward, Severus's fingers snapped around Albus's thin arm, holding his hand inches away from the aged-looking leather. "Do not touch that with your bare hand."
Albus turned to smile at him — his feelings were still hidden behind his occlumency, but he seemed inexplicably amused. "Your concern is touching, Severus, but I will be quite all right."
He fought the urge to scowl. He was just going to ignore the accusation of concern. "Do you have any idea what that is? It is not to be trifled with."
"Oh, I am fully aware. For some time — well before Frank's announcement of the discovery of his wraith, even back into the Sixties — I have had reason to believe that Voldemort may have made something of the like. Though I had not suspected that even he were so deranged as to make several." His free hand coming around to cover Severus's still on his arm, Albus muttered, "Voldemort could not dominate my mind even at his full strength. I will be quite safe against such a fragment."
...That was true enough, Severus supposed. A little reluctantly, he let go of Albus's arm. If worst came to worst, he could always drag the stubborn old man down to the Hospital Wing to be held in stasis while Severus brewed up some Ptolemy's Panacea — which would be a bloody pain, of course, but such was his lot in life.
Slow and cautious, Albus lifted the book out of the case. Holding it in one hand, he stared fixedly at it, faint sparks of wandless magic sizzling between them. Perhaps some kind of examination, but it was impossible for Severus to tell, the feeling almost entirely hidden by the furious mental shrieking of the horcrux itself, the thing flailing to batter at Albus's thoroughly-shielded mind.
It recognised him, Severus was certain. It knew it was in the hands of the enemy — and it was afraid. He could feel it, the emotion on the air visceral and hot and nauseating, it took concerted effort to isolate himself from it, as powerful as the horcrux was. But despite the fear clanging just outside of his mind, Severus still felt himself smiling, viciously pleased.
(He knew better than to admit to his enjoyment of the Dark Lord's terror right in front of Albus, but he couldn't help himself.)
After some moments, Albus let out a long, thin sigh, set the the book down again. "Crude work — I suspect this must have been made some time ago, when Voldemort was still young."
The Dark Lord as a young man, now there was an unsettling thought. "We should attempt to identify who it has been possessing."
Albus glanced up at Severus, a frown further multiplying the many lines of his face. "They would be an innocent victim in all of this, Severus, surely you see that."
"Naturally," he hissed, letting a share of his irritation show. "But they have been in direct contact with a horcrux of the Dark Lord for months. It seems they managed to resist it in some measure — Argus found it abandoned in the haunted bathroom — but there is no predicting what damage might have been done to their mind in that time. They should be examined for instabilities in their identity, at the least."
"Ah, yes. You're quite right, of course, my apologies." His eyes flicked back down to the book. "I don't suppose there would be any point in attempting to ask."
"I would think not, no. Now that we know we are looking for hostile possession, however, it should not be too difficult. I suggest we speak to the prefects of what signs to look for, and they may investigate among their own housemates."
Albus nodded. "That seems a practical solution. I will arrange a meeting to speak with them myself." While Severus might ordinarily worry Albus might sabotage their efforts by softening the seriousness of the subject, in this case he was mostly relieved he needn't manage it himself — he had more than enough work to get on with already. Besides, he had reminded Albus that the student in question might still be in lethal danger, that should be enough motivation to do the job properly. "As to what to do with the horcrux itself... I don't suppose you can imagine any reason that I cannot why we shouldn't simply destroy it forthwith."
...Now, that was an interesting question — Severus hesitated for a moment, frowning down at the book. (The horcrux was still attempting to assault their minds, fruitlessly clawing and raging around their ears while they decided its fate.) While a horcrux might insulate one from death, there were dangers to the user, as plainly demonstrated in the tragedy of Herpo the Foul. The ancient Dark Lord had hidden his horcrux in a well-guarded location, and had boldly boasted of his immortality, confident that none would be able to defeat him. And he certainly had seemed inconquerable, an absolute terror with a wand in a time when such magic had been much more rare, guarded by devoted followers and multiple basilisks, protected from death by his horcrux, safely hidden away.
But not so safe, as it'd turned out: a cursebreaker had cracked his wards and stolen the horcrux, which he'd used as a focus in a ritual to annihilate Herpo's soul from a distance. The Dark Lord had been holding a feast with his followers and visiting allies when he'd dropped dead without warning — and without explanation until years later, when the tale of the cursebreaker's deeds had begun to spread.
Later users of horcruces had devised methods by which to insulate them from such methods...though Severus was uncertain whether they would function while the Dark Lord was still only a wraith. Even if directly destroying the Dark Lord were closed to them, there would be no means to prevent them from using a horcrux as a scrying focus they could use to track down the rest. And ultimately the wraith itself, if need be — Severus was uncertain what would happen if the Dark Lord were possessing some poor bastard when the last of the horcruces were destroyed. Theoretically, they could use even a single horcrux to eliminate the Dark Lord for good.
Theoretically. "I'm afraid I can't, no. This one is simply too volatile — it would interfere with any attempt to use it as a focus in a ritual or for scrying. It is of no use to us, and it will remain a threat so long as it continues to exist. We must simply destroy it."
Albus nodded. "Agreed. I presume your control of fiendfyre is sufficient to dispose of it safely?"
"I suppose that depends on how attached you are to whatever the horcrux is sitting on," Severus drawled.
Amused by the dry little joke, Albus let out a low, rumbling chuckle. "You're correct, of course. I intended to apparate us up the hills." He picked up the book again, casually tucked it under his arm before holding a hand out toward Severus.
Hardly a minute later — atop one of the low crumbling mountains surrounding the Valley, the sharp winter wind whistling against the stone, while Albus looked on with a solemnity that clashed with his violently colourful robes — Severus destroyed the first of the Dark Lord's anchors to this world.
As it was consumed in living flame, the horcrux screamed.