The Girl Who Hid | ✓

|109| Horcruxes

"Look sharp, Tom, you don't want to be caught out of bed out of hours, and you being a prefect..."

"Sir, I wanted to ask you something."

"Ask away, then, m'boy, ask away!"

"Sir, I wondered what you know about... about Horcruxes?"

Slughorn stared at him, his thick fingers absentmindedly caressing the stem of his wine glass.

"Project for Defense Against the Dark Arts, is it?"

"Not exactly, sir," said Riddle. "I came across the term while reading and I didn't fully understand it."

"No, 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," said Slughorn.

"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 —"

"Well," said Slughorn, not looking at Riddle, but fiddling with the ribbon on top of his box of crystallized pineapple, "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."

"I don't quite understand how that works, though, sir," said Riddle.

His voice was carefully controlled, but I could sense his excitement.

"Well, you split your soul, you see," said Slughorn, "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's face crumpled and I found myself remembering words I had heard nearly two years before: "I was ripped from my body, I was less than spirit, less than the meanest ghost... but still, I was alive."

"... few would want it, Tom, very few. Death would be preferable."

But Riddle's hunger was now apparent; his expression was greedy, he could no longer hide his longing.

"How do you split your soul?"

"Well," said Slughorn uncomfortably, "you must understand that the soul is supposed to remain intact and whole. Splitting it is an act of violation, it is against nature."

"But how do you do it?"

"By an act of evil— the supreme act of evil. By committing 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 —"

"Encase? But how —?"

"There is a spell, do not ask me, I don't know!" said Slughorn, shaking his head like an old elephant bothered by mosquitoes. "Do I look as though I have tried it— do I look like a killer?"

"No, sir, of course not," said Riddle quickly. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to offend —"

"Not at all, not at all, not offended," said Slughorn gruffly. "It's natural to feel some curiosity about these things. Wizards of a certain caliber have always been drawn to that aspect of magic."

"Yes, sir," said Riddle. "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 —?"