Rosabella Black |Daughter of Sirius Black| (Book 6)

Horcruxes

Tom Riddle merely smiled as the others laughed again. I noticed that he was by no means the eldest of the group of boys, but that they all seemed to look to him as their leader. It reminded me if the D.A. Harry led it and he was by no means the oldest but we all looked to him.
    "I don't know that politics would suit me, sir. I don't have the right kind of background, for one thing." Riddle said when the laughter had died away.
A couple of the boys around him smirked at each other. I was sure they were enjoying a private joke, undoubtedly about what they knew, or suspected, regarding their gang leader's famous ancestor.
    "Nonsense, couldn't be plainer you come from decent wizarding stock, abilities like yours. No, you'll go far, Tom, I've never been wrong about a student yet." Slughorn said briskly.

The small golden clock standing upon Slughorn's desk chimed eleven o'clock behind him and he looked around.
  "Good gracious, is it that time already? You'd better get going boys, or we'll all be in trouble. Lestrange, I want your essay by in morrow or it's detention. Same goes for you, Avery." Slughorn said.
One by one, the boys filed out of the room. Slughorn heaved himself out of his armchair and carried his empty glass over to his desk. A movement behind him made him look around. Riddle was still standing there.
  "Look sharp, Tom, you don't want to be caught out of bed out of hours, and you a prefect. . ."
   "Sir, I wanted to ask you something." Riddle said.
   "Ask away, then, m'boy, ask away. . ." Slughorn said.
   "Sir, I wondered what you know about. . . about Horcruxes?" Riddle said.
Slughorn stared at him, his thick ringers absentmindedly clawing the stem of his wine glass.
    "Project for Defense Against the Dark Arts, is it?" Slughorn said.
But I could tell that Slughorn knew perfectly well that this was not schoolwork.
    "Not exactly, sir. I came across the term while reading and I didn't fully understand it." Riddle said.
   "No. . . well. . . you'd be hard - pushed to find a book at Hogwarts that'll give you details on Horcruxes, Tom, that's very Dark stuff, very Dark indeed." Slughorn said.
    "But you obviously know all about them, sir? I mean, a wizard like you - sorry, I mean, if you can't tell me, obviously - I just knew if anyone could tell me, you could -so I just thought I'd ask -" Riddle said and I couldn't deny being impressed.
    "I'm impressed." I said.
Harry loked at me.
    "Why?" Harry asked.
    "It was very well done. The hesitancy, the casual tone, the careful flattery, none of it overdone. I have had too much experience of trying to wheedle information out of reluctant people not to recognize a master at work." I explained.
Harry rolled his eyes.
    "I know you have." Harry chuckled.

I could tell that Riddle wanted the information very, very much. Perhaps had been working toward this moment for weeks.
   "Well, well, it can't hurt to give you an overview, of course. Just so that you understand the term. A Horcrux is the word used for an object in which a person has concealed part of their soul." Slughorn said, not looking at Riddle, but fiddling with the ribbon on top of his box of crystallized pineapple,
    "I don't quite understand how that works, though, sir." Riddle said.
Riddles voice was carefully controlled, but I could sense his excitement.
   "Well, you split your soul, you see, and hide part of it in an object outside the body. Then, even if one's body is attacked or destroyed, one cannot die, for part of the soul remains earthbound and undamaged. But of course, existence in such a form . . ." Slughorn said and his face crumpled.
    ". . . few would want it, Tom, very few. Death would be preferable." Slughorn said.

But Riddle's hunger was now apparent. His expression was greedy, he could no longer hide his longing.
  "How do you split your soul?" Riddle said.
    "Well, you must understand that the soul is supposed to remain intact and whole. Splitting it is an act of violation, it is against nature." Slughorn said uncomfortably.
    "But how do you do it?" Riddle asked.
    "By an act of evil - the supreme act of evil. By commiting murder. Killing rips the soul apart. The wizard intent upon creating a Horcrux would use the damage to his advantage. He would encase the torn portion -" Slughorn said, becoming more uncomfortable by the second.
   "Encase? But how -?" Riddle asked.
   "There is a spell, do not ask me, I don't know! Do I look as though I have tried it - do I look like a killer?" Slughorn said shaking his head like an old elephant bothered by mosquitoes.
   "No, sir, of course not. I'm sorry . . . I didn't mean to offend. . ." Riddle said quickly.
    "Not at all, not at all, not offended. It is natural to feel some curiosity about these things.  . . wizards of a certain caliber have always been drawn to that aspect of magic. . ." Slughorn said gruffly.
   "Yes, sir. What I don't understand, though - just out of curiosity. I mean, would one Horcrux be much use? Can you only split your soul once? Wouldn't it be better, make you stronger, to have your soul in more pieces, I mean, for instance, isn't seven the most powerfully magical number, wouldn't seven -?" Riddle said.
    "Merlin's beard, Tom! Seven! Isn't it bad enough to think of killing one person? And in any case. . . bad enough to divide the soul. . . but to rip it into seven pieces. . ." Slughorn yelped.