THE AFTERMATH | RON WEASLEY [BOOK FOUR]

17. SECRETS UNRAVELLED

They made their way back to school grounds hastily, heading straight to Dumbledore's office with the phial in hand. His eyes lit up, a smile passing his lips as he took it from Harry, before growing serious.

Dumbledore's eyes narrowed as he tipped the phial into the Pensieve, dipping their heads into the clear blue and returned to Slughorn's memory. Everything had been the same, until they discovered what Voldemort really asked Slughorn.

"I was in the library the other night, in the Restricted section, and I read something rather odd, about a bit of rare magic and I thought perhaps you could illuminate me. It's called, as I understand it– a Horcrux."

Slughorn's faint smile had evaporated altogether.

"I beg your pardon?" he said, swallowing thickly.

"Horcrux. I came across the term while reading and I didn't fully understand it." Riddle answered calmly.

"I'm not sure what you were reading, Tom, but that's very dark stuff, very dark indeed." Slughorn returned, muttering under his breath as nervousness took over.

"Yes, sir. Which is why I came to you." Riddle returned.

Slughorn frowned, clearly disturbed, before speaking very quietly. So quietly, Gene had to listen even closer.

"A Horcrux is an object in which a person has concealed part of their soul." Slughorn said, with some reluctance.

"But I don't understand how that works, sir." he asked, stepping closer.

"One splits one's soul and hides part of it in an object. By doing so, you are protected should you be attacked and your body destroyed." Slughorn explained, sending Gene's stomach turning.

"Protected?"

"That part of your soul that was hidden, lives on. In other words, you cannot die." Slughorn looked positively horrified.

Tom Riddle nodded, turning away as he looked into the fireplace. Gene could have sworn she saw a glint of red in his eyes.

"How does one split his soul, sir?" he asked without turning.

"I think you can guess the answer to that, Tom." Slughorn returned, quiet again.

"Murder." he answered, without a moments hesitation.

"Yes. Killing rips the soul apart. It is a violation against nature. After, one is never the same." Slughorn continued to explain, and Gene so badly wanted to stop, as if it could make a difference.

"Can you only split your soul once? For instance, isn't seven the most powerfully magical number-"

"Seven! Merlin's beard, Tom!" Slughorn exclaimed, "Isn't it bad enough to consider killing one person? To rip the soul into seven pieces–" he stopped, pausing for a moment, "This is all hypothetical, isn't it, Tom? All academic?"

Riddle turned in his place, offering a faint smile, "Of course, sir. It'll be our little secret." he smiled.

Gene's vision was blurred with thick, black smoke, lifting her head from the Pensieve with a small gasp, swallowing hard as she glanced between Harry and Dumbledore.

"So, the other Horcruxes?" Harry began. "Do you think you know what they are, sir?"

"The locket." Gene muttered in realisation, causing Dumbledore to smile in turn. "And Helga Hufflepuff's cup."

"Yes. I would be prepared to bet– perhaps not my other hand– but a couple of fingers, that they became Horcruxes three and four. The remaining two, assuming again that he created a total of six, are more of a problem, but I will hazard a guess that, having secured objects from Hufflepuff and Slytherin, he set out to track down objects owned by Gryffindor or Ravenclaw."