Memories of Betrayal

The Lord's study in Potter Castle was dim, with the lighting charms at minimum setting and a fire burning brightly in the fireplace.

Harry Potter was sitting at the centre of the room, on a luxurious carpet, in a meditative state. He was looking for the memories that had come to him when he was in the Chamber of Secrets. He dwelled into his mind and found a memory which he had trapped in his mind palace.

He was standing in a classroom with Professor Slughorn and hesitantly asked while trying to hide his excitement. "Sir, I was wondering what you know about… Horcruxes?"

" Well," said Slughorn, not looking at him, but fiddling with the ribbon on top of his box of crystallised 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."

" Yes, sir," he said. "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 -"

He looked at the small diary in front of him and many other ingredients which surrounded him. A glass of potion, which was pitch black was sitting on a table. He took it and drank the contents, and then pointed his wand at the diary and said the spell. Pain. It was more pain than he had ever imagined! Had something gone wrong? Just as he felt like he couldn't tolerate the pain anymore, it stopped. He opened his eyes to look at the diary, which was glowing. He smiled widely. He was just sixteen, but he had done it. He had finally created his first Horcrux!

His filthy Muggle father! How dare the man leave his mother and reject him before he was even born? The words of his father calling him and his mother unnatural freaks still echoed in his mind. The big black and gold ring lay in front of him. He drank the potion and pointed the wand at the ring. Pain. The ring glowed.

How stupid of the ghost, and she actually was the daughter of Rowena Ravenclaw herself! While he immensely respected Rowena for her sheer intelligence, he couldn't help but be disgusted by her daughter. She had just handed over her mother's prized diadem to him, without question! He gazed at the artefact in front of him. He drank the potion and pointed the wand at it. Pain. The diadem glowed.

That stupid woman! How dare she insult his mother? Not that he cared about his weak mother, but it was the principle of the thing! And she possessed Salazar Slytherin's locket! It rightfully belonged to him, the descendant of Slytherin. He looked at the golden cup in front of him. Hufflepuff's chalice. He drank the potion and pointed the wand at it. Pain. The cup glowed.

What a worthless family. He had just eliminated the McKinnons for daring to stand up to him and his Death Eaters; they would serve as an example to others who wanted to rebel against him and also send a strong message to the Ministry of Magic and Albus Dumbledore. He looked at the locket in front of him - Salazar's locket. He eagerly drank the potion and pointed his wand at the locket. The pain was a lot lesser than before. The locket glowed.

Harry gasped as he opened his eyes, his heart thumping wildly. He went over to the Floo in his study and threw the powder into the polished granite fireplace. "Black Castle," he shouted as he was engulfed by the green flames.

...

The Black Library was truly a horrifying place to be in if you did not approve of dark magic.

The Blacks were perhaps the most notorious of all the families in Europe who dabbled in such magic or at least studied it. They did not go too deep and actually break the laws of magic, but they did insist on studying it all. They were a paranoid bunch as there was no telling when someone could use the most dangerous of magic against the family. And the Blacks had to prevail at all cost.

That's why there were books on Horcruxes in the secret library which was accessible only to the Head of House, deep inside Black Castle. Harry had searched the Potter library, but not one book even mentioned the word Horcrux. He wasn't too surprised though. The Potters had their fair share of books on dark magic in their library, but Horcruxes were a taboo subject around the world; even dark wizards suppressed all knowledge of it as they knew of the consequences of splitting one's soul, but of course, Voldemort never did anything halfway - or ever listened to others.

"I can't believe the fool actually created one," said Sirius grimly. "According to Scorpius Black III, creating a Horcrux goes against the sacred laws of Magic. Tearing your soul is something that shouldn't be done. To think Voldemort created one at the age of sixteen is horrifying."

"It says here that a Horcrux can only be destroyed by something which is so destructive that it can't repair itself," said Amelia.

"Basilisk venom worked against the diary," Harry interrupted. "What else?"

"According to Virgo Black, Fiendfyre and the Killing Curse work too," said Sirius.

"I can perform the Killing Curse, but not Fiendfyre," Harry shrugged. "What?" he asked defensively when he caught them staring at him.

Sirius pursed his lips, giving him a penetrating look. "We'll talk about that later," he said quietly. "Virgo Black managed to split the soul of a rabbit and contain it in a metal jar; though how he did it is beyond me. He used the Killing Curse on it which worked. The curse itself works on the soul, so it is effective. Horcruxes are meant to be heavily protected and very, very few people can effectively perform the Killing Curse. Even amongst the Death Eaters, not all of them could cast it. I know I can't."

"Neither can I," admitted Amelia. "Any idea of how you were able to access Voldemort's memories?"

"Grandfather Alfred said something about a possession by Voldemort which was lodged in my scar. It was removed and destroyed by my house-elves when I was seven."

"Possession?" asked Sirius suspiciously. "No, that doesn't add up. I'll look into it."

"In the meantime, I'll see if I can access more of those memories."

....

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