𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 | draco malfoy [6]

𝐗𝐕𝐈𝐈. INK ON SKIN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
INK ON SKIN

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The Felix Felicis wore off as Harry and I raced up to the castle. My anger and hatred for my brother came flooding back, but there was no time to stop and dwell on it. We were silent, the only sounds being our running footsteps and heavy breathing as we made our way to Dumbledore's office.

He had just arrived not an hour earlier back from another one of his random trips. Harry and I burst into his office, and he looked over at us with wide eyes.

"Harry, Giovanna! To what do I owe this... late pleasure?" He asked.

"Sir, we got it," I panted, "We got the memory."

Dumbledore wasted no time standing and taking the vial from em as the three of us made our way over to the Pensieve. He poured the memory in and we all leaned close, the familiar falling sensation coming over me.

We landed in the same room, during the same dinner as before. This time it had fast-forward to after the dinner, when Tom was the last student in the room.

"I was in the library the other night, in the restricted section, and I read something rather odd about a bit of rare magic," He said, just as before. I held my breath, knowing the word we weren't able to hear before would now be heard. "It's called, as I understand it, a Horcrux."

Slughorn's face dropped, and I could practically see the fear on it. "I beg your pardon?"

"Horcrux. I came across the term while reading. And, I didn't fully understand it." Tom continued.

"I'm not sure what you're reading, Tom, but this is very dark stuff. Very dark, indeed." Slughorn frowned.

"Which is why I came to you."

"A Horcrux is an object in which a person has concealed part of their soul," Slughorn explained breifly.

"But I don't understand how that works, sir," Tom stepped closer.

"It splits one's soul and hides part of it in an object. By doing so, you are protected, should you be attacked and your body destroyed."

"Protected?"

"That part of your soul that is hidden lives on. In other words, you cannot die."

Tom looked away, facing the fire. "How does one split their soul?"

"I think you already know the answer to that, Tom."

"Murder."

"Yes. Killing rips the soul apart. It is a violation against nature."

"Can you only split the soul once? For instance, seven-"

My eyebrows shot up as Slughorn exclaimed, "Seven? Merlin's beard, Tom! Isn't it bad enough to consider killing one person? To rip the soul into seven pieces... this is all hypothetical, isn't it, Tom? All academic?"