Harry Potter and the Secret Treasures - H.P.S.T Chapter 1571: Magic and Horcruxes

“Voldemort didn’t choose the containers of his Horcruxes casually. Dumbledore showed Harry and me a lot of his past memories, from which we can know that Voldemort has a strong possessiveness and collecting habit. He has a special feeling for Hogwarts. That’s why, apart from the diary, the rest of his Horcruxes are objects left behind by the Four Founders of Hogwarts. Each of those items has powerful magic and historical significance,” Evan continued. “He would never use an ordinary object to make a Horcrux, and even less would he choose a spell. A spell in itself is meaningless, worthless, and destined to fade away eventually. It’s not something eternal. Voldemort would never place his precious soul into a spell.”

“If he did choose a spell to make a Horcrux — I mean, if You-Know-Who really did such a thing — what spell would he use?” Ron suddenly felt a sharp tingle on the back of his neck. He reached up and pinched it hard while asking, “I’m just curious — what kind of magic could serve as a Horcrux container?”

“Any magic would do. Theoretically, as long as it lasts a certain period of time, it can be used as a container to preserve the soul. Once it becomes a Horcrux, the spell itself would also gain some of the properties of a Horcrux, enabling it to endure for a long time — at least several decades,” said Evan. “Well, if it were Voldemort, of course he would use Dark Magic. I think it might very well be a curse — something like the one I was struck by in the Centaurs’ Temple of the Moon.”

As he spoke, he recalled Professor Trelawney’s strange prophecy, the one foretelling that in a dark temple Voldemort would personally mark someone who would help him gain power beyond imagination. Evan had speculated much about that prophecy, even once thinking the dark temple referred to the Temple of the Moon, given its history steeped in darkness. But back then, the one who was cursed had been himself, and that curse had already been broken. He certainly wasn’t going to side with Voldemort. To this day, the prophecy had yet to come true, and there was no sign of it ever doing so.

After thinking it over briefly, Evan pushed the matter aside.

Prophecies, after all, were always vague and ambiguous, not necessarily destined to come true.

Although the flow of time had already been altered, the matter of the Horcruxes had remained largely the same. The Gaunts’ ring had taken a slightly different course, but still ended up being made into one of Voldemort’s Horcruxes. As for the only newly emerged Horcrux — the evil god statue — it could now basically be confirmed. …

“Alright, Voldemort could never have used a spell itself to make a Horcrux — that idea is utterly ridiculous. No Dark wizard would ever do such a thing. Horcruxes exist to safeguard one’s immortality, to help the Dark wizard achieve eternal life, not to be used as a weapon. Rather than debating something that’s impossible, I think we’d do better to understand the true traits of a Horcrux,” said Hermione. “You have to remember, apart from being extremely difficult to destroy, as long as the Horcrux’s container remains intact, the fragment of the soul inside it can move in and out of the body of someone who draws close to the container. And I don’t mean just holding it for a long time — that has nothing to do with it. I mean emotional closeness. Connecting with a Horcrux makes you far more vulnerable to being dominated. In other words, if you like it too much or become dependent on it, you’re in trouble.”

Ron gave a grunt, recalling how he’d once been controlled by Riddle’s diary. The pain in the back of his neck flared again.

“Never believe a single word a Horcrux tells you. You must have a strong will. That’s the most crucial defense against its influence,” said Evan. “Especially when facing the evil god statue. That statue is exceptionally skilled at invading people’s minds. As a marker of the evil god’s power, its substance is far stronger than that of an ordinary object made into a Horcrux. Basilisk venom or even the Sword of Gryffindor won’t work well against it. We’ll need to use the power of Slytherin’s Twin Serpent Staff. So, if any of us gets the chance to seize it, we might not be able to destroy the statue immediately. At that point, the most important thing is to resist its influence. Otherwise —”

Before Evan finished speaking, the bedroom door flew open with a wall-shaking crash.

He stopped talking immediately, leaping from his cot and drawing his wand. Beside him, Hermione shrieked and dropped Secrets of the Darkest Art; Elaine’s head, which had been propped on her hand, slid to the side; Ron jumped off the bed, skidded on a discarded Chocolate Frog wrapper, and smacked his head on the opposite wall; and Harry instinctively dived for his wand before realizing that he was looking up at Mrs. Weasley, whose hair was disheveled and whose face was contorted with rage.

“I’m so sorry to break up this cozy little gathering,” she said, her voice trembling. “I’m sure you all need your rest … but there are wedding presents stacked in my room that need sorting out and I was under the impression that you had agreed to help.”   

“Oh yes,” said Hermione, looking terrified as she leapt to her feet. “we will … we’re sorry …”

With an anguished look at Evan, Harry and Ron, Hermione hurried out of the room after Mrs. Weasley with a reluctant Elaine in tow.

“It’s like being a house-elf,” complained Ron in an undertone, rubbing the back of his neck vigorously as he, Evan, and Harry followed her out. “Except without the job satisfaction. The sooner this wedding’s over, the happier I’ll be. It’s pointless, it’s pure torture. Ahh, my neck hurts.”

“Maybe you got a stiff neck from last night — want someone to take a look at it?” Harry asked.

“No need … probably just the stress of the wedding. Too much pressure. I’m not used to living like a house-elf.”

“But it’s Bill and Fleur’s wedding after all, and we need to make it beautiful for them. Speaking of house-elves, I could actually have Dobby come over to help. He’s still at my house, but there’s no one there anymore,” said Evan. He’d been so busy with Mrs. Weasley’s chores these past few days that he’d forgotten about it.

Although he had called Dobby over to help that afternoon, they were still busy until late in the face of the mountain of wedding presents waiting to be sorted.

At eleven o’clock the next morning, everyone went out to prepare to welcome Mr. and Mrs. Delacour.

In Evan’s opinion, the yard of the Burrow had never looked so tidy. The rusty cauldrons and old Wellington boots that usually littered the steps by the back door were gone, replaced by two new Flutterby bushes standing either side of the door in large pots; though there was no breeze, the leaves waved lazily, giving an attractive rippling effect. The chickens had been shut away, the yard had been swept, and the nearby garden had been pruned, plucked, and generally spruced up.

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