Chapter 562: Other Uses of Horcruxes

"Slytherin's locket?" Kyle murmured to himself. What a stroke of bad luck…

He did indeed have the locket—it was sitting in his possession—but as it stood, it was still a Horcrux, and thus unusable for this purpose.

"You've found it?" Ravenclaw's tone held a note of surprise.

"Actually," Kyle began hesitantly, "I've also found Hufflepuff's Cup. And the Gryffindor sword is in the Headmaster's Office at Hogwarts. I could borrow it if you need it."

"No, the locket is sufficient," Ravenclaw replied evenly.

To be honest, she had never expected that the objects most representative of the four Founders would end up in the hands of a single individual.

Kyle... and the person who had created the Horcruxes.

Though his actions were undeniably infuriating, she had to admit that the individual in question was extraordinarily resourceful.

"Madam Ravenclaw, I have another question," Kyle said after a moment's thought. "After successfully casting the Vanishing Spell on myself, wouldn't the locket fall off as well? If that happens, wouldn't I be unable to reverse the spell and change back?"

"As you mentioned, in order to cast the Vanishing Spell on myself, I'd need to transfer the magic within my body. But without magic, I wouldn't be able to perform the Reversing Spell, right?"

"Don't worry about that," Ravenclaw said calmly.

Her voice turned soft as she recited the Vanishing Spell. Though it was the same spell Kyle had learned, there was a distinct difference in how it felt.

Before Kyle's eyes, the spell seemed to deconstruct itself, splitting into a series of intricate runic formulas. The runes connected and layered over one another, forming an even larger, more complex structure.

"Though there are minor differences, this spell is fundamentally a standard Transfiguration Spell," Ravenclaw explained. "I've seen Salazar's locket before, and the magic stored within it will not interfere with the Transfiguration Spell."

"As long as you keep the locket on you, it will transform alongside you, as if it were part of your clothing."

"The only caution I must give is this: you must be highly proficient in Nonverbal Spells and Wandless Casting. After completing the transformation, you won't be able to use your wand or speak to cast magic."

Kyle considered this and nodded. "I can cast Nonverbal Spells, though I may not be fully proficient in wandless magic. Still, I can manage it decently."

"Not proficient?" Ravenclaw's tone shifted, carrying a faint ripple of disbelief.

To her, the idea of someone Kyle's age not yet mastering both Nonverbal and wandless magic seemed almost incomprehensible.

"In fact," Kyle explained quickly, "we don't typically start learning Nonverbal Spells until our sixth year. And as for wandless magic, there are no formal requirements at all—not even on the Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests."

Ravenclaw was silent for a moment before responding softly, "It seems your world doesn't have to contend with constant danger anymore. That is good."

"Madam Ravenclaw," Kyle asked curiously, "was the wizarding world a thousand years ago really that dangerous?"

"It's difficult for me to say," Ravenclaw replied thoughtfully. "What I witnessed as one of the Founders was often far removed from the daily lives of ordinary wizards... But it was certainly not as safe as the world you inhabit now."

Kyle nodded in understanding. A thousand years ago… From the scant records in the Hogwarts library, he knew life for wizards in those times had been far from easy.

At that moment, Kyle's mind sparked with a thought, and he spoke up again.

"Madam Ravenclaw, may I ask another question?"

There was no immediate reply. Ravenclaw neither agreed nor refused, but Kyle had the distinct impression she was silently watching him, her presence hovering like a quiet, analytical gaze.

"I just had an idea," Kyle began cautiously. "I'm not sure if it will work, so I wanted to confirm it."

"Go on, then," Ravenclaw finally replied.

"Yes, about Horcruxes..." Kyle hesitated, choosing his words carefully.

"Do you also desire immortality?" Ravenclaw's voice carried a faint tinge of disappointment, though it faded quickly. "If that's the case, I recommend the Philosopher's Stone. Maintaining a complete soul is vital for witches and wizards."

"If you've read enough, you'll know that Herpo the Foul disappeared after creating the first Horcrux. He regretted it deeply and spent his life searching for ways to reunite his fractured soul."

"No, that's not what I meant," Kyle said, shaking his head. "I was thinking… if someone loses their sanity because their soul is torn apart, could a Horcrux help restore their mind?"

"Torn apart?" Ravenclaw's tone shifted slightly.

"The Cruciatus Curse," Kyle explained. "It's an incredibly evil spell that acts directly on the soul."

"I have a friend whose parents were tortured by the Cruciatus Curse, and their souls were shattered into many fragments."

"The Healers at St. Mungo's said these fragments interact chaotically, causing them to be delirious and unable to communicate normally with others."

"So I wondered—if I could separate those fragments using a Horcrux, would that stabilize their mind and help them recover?"

Ravenclaw fell silent, her contemplation stretching long enough to make Kyle uneasy.

At last, she spoke. "Herpo the Foul would never have imagined that the spell he invented might one day be used to save a life."

"So… it's possible?" Kyle asked, his voice tinged with hope.

"No, it's not," Ravenclaw replied, dashing his excitement like a bucket of cold water.

"To create a Horcrux, you must forcefully push a soul fragment out of the body using powerful, malevolent intent. How could someone who cannot even communicate normally muster the necessary evil to expel their own soul?"

Kyle frowned. "Then… what's the next step? Do you have any ideas?"

Ravenclaw's tone shifted, becoming almost academic, like a professor challenging her student. "What would you propose?"

Kyle thought for a moment, then replied, "What if I use my own body as the host for the Horcrux?

"If they can't generate enough malice to expel their soul fragment, I could transfer it to something nearby—like a strand of my hair, an eyebrow, or even a small bone fragment. Those could act as Horcruxes instead."

"An intriguing and entirely correct idea," Ravenclaw said approvingly. "However, one problem remains: if the soul fragment cannot be separated from the body, the Horcrux will no longer serve to grant immortality."

"That doesn't matter," Kyle said, waving a hand dismissively. "As long as it can restore their sanity, that's enough. Honestly, if it did grant immortality, it'd cause more trouble than it's worth. Besides, I doubt they'd want that."

"Fair enough," Ravenclaw conceded. "But have you considered an even simpler approach? Why not use the soul fragment itself as the Horcrux?"

"Wait—would that even work?" Kyle asked, startled by the suggestion.

"With a slight adjustment to the usual process, yes," Ravenclaw said. "I can teach you how to do it."