Chapter 736
Seven Souls?
Chapter 736 Seven Souls?
Immediately afterwards, the surrounding scenery rippled like water as Dumbledore landed next to Wade.
The two stood in the corner of the office from their memories, and heard Slughorn say, "Then ask quickly, child, ask quickly..."
“Sir,” the young Tom said softly, looking at Slughorn with a standard, mask-like smile, “I want to ask you if you know anything about… Horcruxes.”
Slughorn paused slightly, staring at the politely smiling Tom, and said, trying to cover his misunderstanding, "...The subject of Defense Against the Dark Arts, is that right?"
Tom shook his head and said sincerely, "No, sir, I read it in a book, but I don't quite understand it."
"Oh, yes……"
Slughorn was slightly nervous, and fine beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.
He mumbled, "It's hard to find a book at Hogwarts that details Horcruxes, Tom. They're very evil things, very evil."
The candlelight cast a flickering shadow on Tom Riddle's handsome profile as he leaned forward slightly, speaking with a respectful posture:
“But you clearly know a lot about wizards like yourself, sir? I mean, wizards like yourself…”
Wade watched Tom like a skilled anatomist, his words like a scalpel, slowly dissecting Slughorn's psychological defenses, digging out every step of creating a Horcrux from his mouth—
He kills, splits souls, and uses this destruction to seal the separated soul fragments inside an object.
In this way, even if the original body is killed, because a part of the soul remains in the world, it will not die completely.
Slughorn's fat fingers were twisted together, and his handkerchief was soaked with sweat; he clearly didn't want to go into too much detail.
But perhaps Tom was just very eloquent, or perhaps he didn't want to appear ignorant; in any case, the chubby professor, sweating profusely, couldn't help but explain in detail the process of creating Horcruxes.
Later, as he sensed the burgeoning, wicked desires of the young man before him, Slughorn grew increasingly terrified and couldn't help but shout:
"Don't ask me, I don't know—do I look like I've tried it? Do I look like a murderer?"
Tom offered a perfunctory apology.
Out of admiration for genius and a subconscious desire to maintain a smooth relationship, Slughorn ignored his own unease and deluded himself into interpreting the conversation as a pursuit of academic excellence.
Then Tom pressed on, "Can the soul only split once? Would it be better to split it into more pieces, making you stronger?"
His face held a simple, yearning for power, as if he were unaware of the evil within and oblivious to the old man's terror.
Tom asked bluntly, "Isn't seven the most magical number? If you divide it into seven..."
“My God, Tom!” Slughorn couldn’t help but shout, “Seven! Isn’t killing one person evil enough? Anyway… splitting a soul is evil enough… but splitting it into seven pieces…”
He stared at Tom in astonishment, his face filled with deep fear and regret. The boy's greed and undisguised evil had clearly frightened him.
After Tom left, Slughorn sat in his chair catching his breath for a while before getting up and pouring himself a glass of rum.
The bottles and glasses clinked together because Slughorn's hands were trembling. After downing a full glass of wine in one gulp, he stared blankly for a moment, then suddenly raised his wand and cast a spell on his head.
The next second, the scene in my memory shattered like a broken mirror.
Slughorn's terrified face, the candy and photos on the table, and Tom Riddle's sinister smile as he left—all twisted into countless wisps of silver mist, swirling and rising around the two of them, transforming into the shapes of destroyed Horcruxes.
This wasn't the first time Dumbledore had seen this memory; he had clearly thought about it before Wade arrived.
"Horace concealed this memory."
Dumbledore said softly, “When I realized that Tom had made more than one Horcrux for himself—especially that diary, it suggested that this evil behavior may have started when he was still a student.”
"And at that time, the one who could give him such guidance was undoubtedly Horace Slughorn, who was the most fond of Tom Riddle. I searched my memory and found that there was a period when Horace was very obviously distancing himself from Tom."
"But when I went to look for him, Horace tried to fool me with a tampered memory, attempting to convince me that they hadn't said anything."
"Because of guilt and shame?" Wade said, "He said things he shouldn't have said, helping Voldemort become an immortal monster."
“I think the fear was greater than the guilt,” Dumbledore said softly. “He was afraid that he had become the teacher of the devil, and even more afraid that Tom would come back to silence him.”
Wade shook his head, the sympathy he had felt for Slughorn's miserable state vanishing quietly: "If it weren't for his vanity, he wouldn't have had to suffer like this."
"We all have temptations that are hard to resist, child."
Dumbledore calmly said, "Horace enjoys material pleasures and likes to associate with successful people. In school, he would give special treatment to some students he liked so that they would provide him with some kind of benefit after graduation, such as sending him two free tickets to a ball game..."
"It's not a major flaw; it's just that some people are born knowing how to exploit the weaknesses of others."
He sighed, “When I discovered I had a problem with my memory, I immediately went to find Horace, who was already preparing to leave his place of residence.”
"To persuade him to cooperate, I told him that Voldemort was showing signs of resurrection. He pretended to cooperate and then disappeared without a trace..."
"...and then he was captured by Voldemort?" Wade replied speechlessly.
No wonder Slughorn handed over his memories so readily after regaining consciousness—he must have regretted it countless times while being tortured by Voldemort.
“Yes,” Dumbledore said. “Fortunately, we now know the answer—Voldemort intended to create six Horcruxes for himself, and together with the one that was broken, his soul was split into seven pieces…or rather, he thought he had seven pieces.”
“The first one is a diary…” Wade looked at Dumbledore.
He placed the diary in a magic-protected box and gave it to Dumbledore to study. The two had agreed not to simply burn the diary.
Dumbledore nodded slightly: "That's right, it's still in my hands, in a safe place."
(End of this chapter)