Kapitel 64: CH 64
There were pages and pages of notes on the subject. Much of which was in quite incredible detail. If Tom Riddle had not performed this himself then he must have witnessed it or found a reference from somebody who had. It was too visual and graphic for anything else to be true.
The portrait of Salazar Slytherin, returned to its resting place over the door, watched restlessly as he read through Riddle's neat writing at the desk.
'What have you found,' the painting demanded, unable to simply sit and watch as his heir read through something so important in front of him.
'The theory behind creating a horcrux,' Harry skimmed the next few sheets, 'and how it's meant to work.' It was not light reading. Harry did not know where Riddle had found this book, it had no place in Salazar's study, but he was sure it would not even find a place in the restricted section of the library.
'Tell me,' the founder commanded, peering down at the notes from above the door.
'They're created by using the side effects of the Killing Curse,' Harry began, thoroughly horrified at the implications of the magic he was reading about. 'Using the curse fractures the soul allowing a wizard or witch of sufficiently strong mind to tear a fragment away and place it within another object.' Harry read the excerpt from the book in a rather sickened tone, from what he had learned of souls from Salazar he understood how wrong this was.
'What type of object?' Salazar asked.
'It does not say, but I assume any, since the notes often mention things that don't work.' The notes had the horrible feel of trial and error to them, as if Tom Riddle had gradually accumulated the knowledge on these sheets of parchment by experimenting over and over again.
'So anything could be a horcrux.' Harry understood perfectly the solemn tone the portrait had taken. The anchor that was keeping Voldemort alive could be anything and anywhere.
'Yes,' Harry agreed. 'Once they are created they're supposed to be almost impossible to destroy, basilisk venom, fiendfyre and other very destructive spells are the only things capable of it. They act as an anchor of sorts. Riddle wasn't certain, but guessed that for a person to die the whole soul has to be disconnected from everything else. The anchoring piece would still be connected to the rest of the soul and bound to an object, hence preventing death so long as it exists.'
'All types of death?' Harry had had the same thought when he first read Riddle's analysis of why they worked.
'No,' Harry shook his head. 'The soul can only last as long as the rest of the person and while the book says body and mind can be physically replaced whatever causes them to degrade also affects the soul. An anchoring horcrux will slow the process, but not halt it.'
'So Tom Riddle will die of old age regardless,' Salazar mused.
'A very old age,' Harry pointed out. 'His notes suggest that having a horcrux could add half a lifetime onto his own, we don't know if having more than one compounds the effect, and powerful wizards and witches tend to live longer anyway.' He was pretty sure that Dumbledore had been alive for more than a century, and the headmaster wasn't looking like he was about to keel over. 'I wasn't about to suggest hiding until he died,' Slytherin responded acidly. 'Such behaviour is not acceptable for my heir. You will grow strong enough to defeat him, either in a fair duel or more cunningly. It's about time you acted like a relative of mine instead of charging off like a younger, less knowledgeable version of Godric.'
Harry turned over the last few pages, but there was only a reference to never entering the nothingness of the death and the words Lord Voldemort scrawled across the bottom of the page in uncharacteristically untidy hand. The final letter had almost completely vanished beneath an inkblot formed where the tip of the quill had been pressed so hard into the parchment it had snapped.
Without any clear evidence a horcrux had been made Harry resorted to checking the book that the notes had been found in.
What he found was both horrifying and terrifying.
Under the section entitled Horcruxes he found a brief note implying that a fractured soul would heal over time in the right conditions, but one that remained fractured could weaken and unintentionally fragment again. A shiver trembled its way down his spine, the hairs rising across his body.
'A soul that is fractured and remains unrepaired may weaken and, should it be put under further stress, fragment. Since the soul remains connected even after fragments are separated the pieces are likely to return to the original, but it is hypothetically possible that this could create a horcrux of which the owner is not aware. A bond may well form between accidental anchor and owner possibly resulting in either of the two developing an obsessive interest in the other or displaying similar characteristics and skills,' Harry read aloud. Every word he spoke into the cold study made him feel more sick and more afraid. It sounded too familiar, too similar to something he had already heard. The sharp icy fingers of fear had tightened themselves around his stomach, clenching to his core.
'Why did you read that out?' Salazar asked, there was enough evident concern is tone to indicate he was aware of Harry's distress.
'In my second year, when the shade of Riddle opened the Chamber and I learned that I could speak Parseltongue, I asked Dumbledore why Tom Riddle and I were so similar.'
The memory of the conversation was slowly turning his fear to fury and Harry had to swallow to control his rage as it surged within him. The hand of ice around his stomach melted as his fury at being lied to over something so crucially important and personal to him swelled into a crescendo. It was strong enough to taste. The tang of iron rage on his tongue was hot enough to set his words alight with vehemence.
'He told me that he believed I had absorbed a small piece of Voldemort's power when I was given this scar,' Harry hissed furiously in parseltongue. 'It was that that had made us similar, he said, and gave me my ability to speak to snakes.'
'He is wrong and he lied to you,' Salazar deduced, sparks shooting from his wand with an intensity Harry had not yet seen. The portrait's speech was completely distorted, wavering between Parseltongue and English as he raged, but attempted to control himself.
'My parselmagic cannot be passed on in such a way, it is imperative that you have my blood for the magic to work, and magical power cannot be absorbed in such a manner or there would be wizards killing each other to do so. He knows about the horcruxes, he knows that you are one, and he has always known.'
I am a horcrux. I am what is keeping Voldemort alive.
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Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
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