Lord Voldemort SI

It was astounding. Horace continued playing hero for several days in the row. He even attempted to kill himself by igniting his own blood and driving himself insane with occlumency. But I was prepared and worked very carefully, with redundant precautions. Two days of torture and legilimency gave me disappointingly little information until I finally found his weak spot: he decided that telling me about horcruxes was what pushed me on the wrong path. He developed this fantasy so far he really began to believe he created a monster.

Horcruxes… Although Horace did not even know how to create them, I found out more than I bargained for…

Horace Slughorn's memories.

In the long past summer of 1921, at yet another international potioneer convention, young Horace Slughorn met a living legend: Nicholas Flamel's student Albus Dumbledore. Two talented potioneers had a lot to discuss, and soon Horace was inviting Albus to his home to view a curious artifact: an hourglass whose sand speed changed with the emotional intensity of conversations nearby… Hungry for power and fame Horace asked his colleague about self-improvement rituals. He was especially interested in one cursory mention he found in a family book: horcruxes.

The next thing he remembered was a flash of light and swift unconsciousness.

When Horace opened his eyes an hour later, he found himself bound with magical shackles and amti-traversing charms.

"What is going on, Albus? I'll report you to the Aurors!"

"I must apologize. I took you for an upstart Dark Lord… Now we are going talk, and you will decide your course of action. I must inform you that creation of horcruxes is banned by the Mcbrune Act of 1053. The Act was named after a muggle sacrificed in a horcrux ritual."

"It is Dark magic?" Horace blurted. "I had no idea!"

"As you shouldn't. The last known horcrux in England was made in the 17th century. The taboo on the word "horcrux" was lifted a century ago, and the Department of Mysteries disbanded the division for their search 30 years ago," Albus explained. "Dark magic is bathing in infant blood to heal wounds. A horcrux is magnitudes worse. The punishment for creating one is disembodiment, and it has not been practiced since the 17th century. The punishment for possession of books on horcruxes is more lenient: the kiss."

"But I don't have a horcrux! Or a description of its creation! Only a mention!"

"I know,"'Albus nodded, unperturbed. "Once I stunned you, I tested you for horcruxes and looked through your mind. I already burned the book you are talking about and am ready to reimburse you for it."

"That's illegal!" Horace was exacerbated despite his predicament.

"Horace, you don't understand the severity of this. Do not ever mess with horcruxes."

"And how would you know?"

"From speaking to knowledgeable people, including Nicholas Flamel. He reacted to my question the same way I did to yours. He was once accused of having a horcrux himself."

"But what even IS a horcrux? A spell? A ritual? An artifact?" Horace questioned.

"What do you know of Herpo the Foul?"

"He was a Dark wizard. Very powerful. Lived some time near the beginning of the Common Era and supposedly created the first basilisk."

"There is more. He killed innumerable people in pursuit of power. And he was the first to create a horcrux," Albus lectured. "There are always people willing to kill for power. But Herpo the Foul understood he could not win alone. And despite all of the basilisk's might, it is nothing more than an animal: it cannot apparate, take down wards or hold a public office. One can win every battle but still lose the war- a commander of an occupied country needs loyal officers, managers, workers, clerks… So Herpo got a "genius" idea to divide himself into multiple parts, creating thousands of Herpo the Fouls to rule over everyone else."

"But that's fundamentally impossible! Even if a wizard connects to another body, he either inhabits it or controls it like a puppet."

"Exactly. Herpo the Foul created a steel golem and imbued it with a part of his own soul."

"Albus… I have some discreet friends at Mungo's…" Slughorn gently offered.

"Sadly, it is the truth. High Light and Dark magic both have intimate ties to the soul. A certain ritual can amplify and focus enough of the sacrificial energy back into the murderer… The soul cannot handle the conflict of energies and tears. The torn off part is placed into a vessel, creating a horcrux. But Herpo the Foul did not quite get the results he expected.

First of all, he grew even more mean-spirited and unstable. Second, he became more powerful in Dark magic. Third, when he died in a Fiendfyre, his followers were able to resurrect him."

"Resurrect him? What kind of nonsense are you spewing…" Horace' skepticism could be cut with a knife.

"Unfortunately, it is not," Albus sighed. "It turned out that as long as a part of his soul remained in the golem, he was effectively immortal. Herpo wanted to create more horcruxes but was killed again. This time, he was cut into pieces and dissolved in acid, and his golem was chopped up with charmed blades. The first horcrux creator died for good, but the discovery of his notes later caused a civil war in Rome - many wanted to become immortal at the cost of only one murder…

Horace, understand: this is just another trap for greedy fools. A lot of people made horcruxes, and they are all dead. Any magic use leaves traces within the caster's soul. Not the energy system, the soul! No one cares about it outside obscure research because these energy traces dissipate with time. That's why normal use of Dark magic is not harmful. The speed of its clearance depends on the individual - positive emotions and remorse speed it up, negative emotions and reveling in cruelty slow it down. Probably less than one in several thousand Dark wizards stand a chance to accumulate enough Dark magic traces to harm themselves irreversibly. Reaching that individual critical level brings gradual but permanent changes in personality: obsessive thoughts, degradation of reasoning, increasingly disregulated emotions… A powerful insane Dark wizard is a horrid sight, especially for the people closest to them.

It is theoretically possible to accumulate so much resudual Dark magic energy that it will literally tear apart your soul and create a so-called spontaneous horcrux. But the universal consensus is that it could never happen in reality- the soul is extremely durable. Herpo the Foul did not want to wait and devised a ritual to splinter his soul. As he later found out, a horcrux completely stops the residual Dark magic energy from clearing out. It continues to accumulate, making madness only a matter of time…"

"Wait. I have two questions. How do you know all this and why is it not publicly available?"

"And what would you tell people? That they can become powerful by turning themselves into walking resonators for the Dark Arts? It is like a golem capable of learning: it becomes smarter and more effective with every battle, eventually choosing its own goals and the means to achieve them. The paradox is that a horcrux, in essence, kills you. The new, stronger version is no longer you: your goals become distorted, and your means… Let's not talk about depressing things. To answer your question, if we disclosed this to the public, thousands of arrogant dropouts would decide they will get lucky where everyone else failed.

How do I know it? Several sources. As you probably heard, I knew Gellert Grindelwald. He was expelled from Durmstrang for his interest in horcruxes. Technically unfairly. Even having thrown away all moral and ethical concerns, Gellert reached the conclusion that creating a horcrux was inappropriate and unwise. That it was worse knocking on an erumpent's horn. Worse than giving goblins fake collateral."

"But you say madness is not instantaneous," Horace tried to argue. "So it would make sense to create a horcrux before facing certain death, then be returned to life and put your soul back together."

"Horace, you should be ashamed of yourself. The method you describe is used by volhvs in the East, but it has crippling disadvantages even apart from human sacrifice. Making your soul whole again requires true remorse, which is impossible to feel at will. And if the horcrux is destroyed, a part of your soul is destroyed forever. That's exactly why horcruxes never gained too much popularity to begin with- failure is a fate worse than Dementor's kiss.

So, Horace, let's assume I satisfied your curiosity. A horcrux is a terrible idea. It goes against morality, ethics and basic self-preservation. It would be best if you forgot everything I told you and not involve the Aurors. For your own good. The magical world is in unrest. Some very educated wizards follow Grindelwald for his ideas of "creating a safe path in Dark Arts." There are few who believe it is possible to create a safe horcrux ritual. A war is coming, and you would be better off staying far away from it."

"I understand, Dumbledore," Horace said gravely.

"I really hope this incident won't stop us from being friends. Please, keep calling me Albus. If you ever need anything, I am always available."

Well… The information was definitely valuable. I could spread rumors that Dumbledore's father was thrown in Azkaban for killing muggle children in a horcrux ritual. It would have been the last horcrux England, but Albus walked in his father's footsteps, his views too radical even for Grindelwald to tolerate… So, the father of his holiness practiced Dark magic. And obviously successfully- he did get sent to Azkaban. What a curious addition to the portrait of our valiant defender of Light and the common good.

I did not want to think about or believe Slughorn's memories… But all tests proved them true, word for word. Maybe, just maybe Albus was mistaken? Unlikely… Did we really mix up cause and effect? Psychos were not more drawn to Dark magic, it was Dark magic that drove them mad…

It explained a lot. I thought about all the deranged ones in my Inner Circle. Bella. Barty. The Carrows. Mulciber. Rosier… By the way, maybe Snape's strange obsession with Lily was a result of Dark magic overdose?

However, not everything was completely dreary. I did not know about Rodolphus, but the eldest and youngest Lestrange were sane. So was Nott. And Malfoy.

Of course, my own fate interested me the most. If Albus's words held even a grain of truth, Riddle should have gone mad almost instantly. But he made it to five horcruxes! Why? I had two ideas. First: mental magic cleared the mind. Second: he did not make horcruxes out of trash. According to the legends, the Cup had healing properties, the Locket was connected to poisons, the Diadem enchanted mental abilities. What the hell, maybe the Resurrection Stone somehow weakened the effects? But whatever was helping, it proved not enough in the end… Maybe his death was his own fault? Accumulated so much foreign energy that his soul "shattered"?

In any case, none of that really affected the crux of the problem: what do *I* do now?

Abandon Dark Magic? Every occupation had its hazards. Mastery meant learning to avoid them… As for conclusions…

First, it was obviously impossible to simultaneously use High Dark and Light magic. Even if I improved at Light spells, Dark would suffer and cost me my allies.

Second, how much did I have left? When will I go insane from my lifestyle?… Or will I? This called for urgent measures. I needed to determine the rates of my Dark magic residue accumulation and clearance. Hopefully my soul was in one piece and capable of cleaning itself. But just in case, it would be best to take it easy with Dark magic whenever possible. One could live without Avadas and Crucios. Maybe these spells were especially "dirty"? So, I will try to kill and torture in kind ways… Probably with pressurized air. Or a knife. Or order servants to do it for me…

The method to boost Dark magic was now clear. I only needed to find a way to transfer the cost to someone else. But what about Light magic? Smile and promote love? Pimps were not famous for magical prowess. Save lives? Then Mungo's Head Healer would be the next Merlin…

Back at my house, I laid out my treasures. Three out of five… The diary, the cup, the ring. All tests suggested they would not hold me in this world if my body got destroyed. But they were also something more than the original Founders' artifacts…

I opened the diary and gave it the raw data for an already finished spell- I'll check how well it calculated it… Poured water into the cup and one hour later bottled the resulted potion for analysis… Twirled the ring in my hands, staring at the black stone… The identification rituals were almost ready, and I would soon know all the answers…

It was really time to quit moping around. Maybe keeping the ex-horcruxes close would have some positive effects? I decided to continue carrying them with me.

Horace was in bad shape. I knocked him out and healed him a bit, then started on a modified Veritaserum based on his blood and the Drink of Despair. He will tell me everything, and then I can decide what to with him. Sadly, the potions would take a while to finish.

I strolled down to one of the Lestranges' ritual halls. In its center stood a large charmed cage with a magical bird. A gold and red bird the size of a swan just delivered from Egypt… But this overgrown parrot was not fooling me. I saw an ocean of Life and Fire bubbling inside it with magical sight. Phoenixes actually had very mild natures: herbivores, preferred fleeing over fighting even if you stepped on their tail or hit them with a Reducto. But if you enraged it… For example, attacked its babies or tried to cage it… The fire would rival a dragon. The only real reason for phoenixes' XXXX classification was their lack of aggression.

Poor Malfoy. He paid a couple million for the bird, the charmed cage and the hunters' memories. The cage was a masterpiece: it fully stopped the phoenix from apparating. If only these charms could be applied to large spaces… The hunters' memories further lifted my spirits. I now had knockout charms against phoenixes, and Macnair began training a team in professional phoenix hunter methods.

But most importantly, I had a live phoenix.

"Let's be friends?" I offered.

The bird started to sing. I instantly got a splitting headache and fell into a foul mood, yet none of my defensive charms reacted. I tried muffling charms, creating a vacuum between us, stuffing my ears with transfigured earplugs- nothing helped.

But the Cruciatus shut it up. Wonderful.

"Imperio!"

Of course, nothing was ever this easy. The bird threw off the Imperius. But I had to try.

I immobilized it, cut off a couple of feathers with charmed blades and made a shallow cut next to its eye to reach the tear ducts.

The feathers glowed in magical sight. The tears did not. A test confirmed the tears had no magical properties whatsoever. I so hoped for regular batches of universal cure… Torture it into crying? It probably won't work either.

I dropped some processed dragon blood into my ears to understand the phoenix. What can I say… It was probably related to Horace and Lily- same old insults and refusal to cooperate.

I had already read a book on familiars and the qualities they demanded of their owners. A phoenix did not match me at all, neither in personality nor in magical specialization. Where was I to get selflessness or an inclination towards Life magic?

A phoenix would have made an ideal familiar… Yes, I could kill many people. And even more with a basilisk at my side. But I would easily lose to a large number of enemies. Or to a much stronger wizard. But with a phoenix, they would simply never catch me. A basilisk had to be lugged around, a phoenix moved its owner. And having the same familiar as Dumbledore would blur the line between good and evil.

I could try binding it to Lily… But it was risky and I did not need any more capable enemies.

Since I couldn't convince the birdie, it was time to move on to the next plan.

"Edward, bring me a dementor right away," I sent with a courier charm. Lestrange walked in with the floating creature several minutes later.

"Drink this bird's soul," I ordered the dementor.

" I can't eat animals, " an answer echoed my mind.

I hit it with Ekrizdis's whip. The cord resembling rotting meat brought a dull moan out of the thing.

"Suck the soul out of this being."

The dementor obviously struggled to sense the phoenix- it searched for the bird by touch, finally gripping its immobilized head that stuck out between the bars. It put its mouth over the bird's beak… And nothing. Disappointed, I sent both of my guests back.

I spent hours painstakingly throwing Obliviates at the bird and feeding it the forgetfulness potion. But even with erased "personality," the bright feathered bastard refused to cooperate. Instincts?

I hit it with Crucios and every pain curse that came to mind. Over and over. Fed it potions that caused painful hallucinations. No, I have not gone mad. I just knew it was entirely possible to cry without a mind.

The specimen went insane in a few hours- its squawks stopped translating into words. I cast a mild smoke charm at its eyes. The bird cried, but the tears again contained no magic…

What's more, its feathers began to fade and fall out, making the phoenix look like a plucked chicken. Preparing for rebirth? And then what, I have to start over?!

Two hours later it burned, and a small ugly chick crawled out of the ashes. A day later, it grew back to its old size. Completely healthy, mind and memories intact! I wanted to do that too!

I was going to spend a lot of time examining it. As long as it took… And some inside help would be useful.

Dark magic went far beyond duels and destruction. Testing a Dark wizard's abilities with a duel was not much better than asking a jeweler to hammer in a nail. Tom developed a method to embed a snake into a human body. However many times he tried teaching his servants, no one but him was able to do it. Now I knew why- five horcruxes gave him a tremendous advantage, and some of it remained with me…

I had plenty of magical snakes. But instead of a human, I wanted to try stuffing one into a phoenix body. A still living one.

But every attempt failed- snakes died in the adult phoenix body, and the baby bird version died before I could place a snake in it… Animate the phoenix with a snake soul? How? There was no such thing as a phoenix body, they left behind a handful of ash… And my diagnostic charms showed the bird had enough energy for about six more rebirths- they accumulated it rather slowly.

Many probably tried to tame a phoenix despite being "unworthy." And failed. Was I doomed to failure? What set me apart from everyone?

Control the phoenix? It was impervious to all subjugating charms and curses, illusions and hallucinations. And its rebirth would surely cancel any influence. So, I had to somehow grab at its soul… But how?

Riddle's memories predictably insisted that the answer to every question was horcruxes. I really wanted to make a phoenix horcrux but managed to squelch that desire. How was I going to rule to rule the world if I could not control myself? What's the point of eternity without having the brains to enjoy it?

But I had one more option left to try. I took Nagini out of my basement. She was not a horcrux, so preserving her life was pointless. A partial familiar prevented me from taking a new familiar and did not seem to affect me in any other way. So, Nagini, you will receive a new body. Or die. Either option was fine with me. You will serve me dead or alive.

Nagini was much larger than the phoenix… But this time, instead of shoving a snake into the phoenix, I was going to try working with their souls. I already tried it with other magical snakes and failed. A soul connection to Nagini should allow me to give her some extra help…

The phoenix was once again brought into a vegetative state and went into a pentagram with several sacrificial wizards. The usual ritual of implanting a snake into another body. I said "Legilimens," and the snake's body bit the phoenix…

I was imagining myself a snake. My venom and blood flowed through the bird's veins. A blanket of black smoke was creeping over it, making its already mindless eyes glaze over. I started walking around the ritual hall, making a sequence of cuts on the still living wizards and bird. I essentially combined the elements of several rituals into one, including some from the horcrux creation. Only this time instead of funneling the death energy into myself, I was directing it into the phoenix. I did not need any more horcruxes, I already had pocketfuls of them…

I cut my wrist and began drawing runes, generously sharing my blood with the stone floor. One circle of runes, second, third, fourth… My blood, Nagini's blood, the phoenix's blood, the wizards' blood… Nagini finally went into the hexagon, several magical snakes sacrificed over her body.

The principle of my ritual was simple: connect the soul of one magical animal to the the body of another magical animal and meld them together using the lives of wizards and magical snakes. And a partial familiar bond should give me some control. It did sound crazy when spelled out… But even if it failed, there would be no explosion or any harm done.

I placed the unconscious from torture phoenix in the center. It looked miserable and was barely breathing.

Stepping into the third circle, I quickly healed my bleeding wrist and began. The blood runes lit up with dim glow. The phoenix's mad thrashing rocked its cage, its clucking turned hoarse and pathetic… Until it very abruptly burst into flames. And so did Nagini, all sacrificial wizards and snakes. Another failure?

I approached the melted cage. And there it was, the little ugly head sticking out of the ashes just like the last time… Stupid bird, so many days of work down the drain!

But the way the phoenix looked in magical sight gave me pause. Its energy seemed to have changed- some parts disappeared, different ones appeared where they did not belong…

The bird clumsily floundered around, then opened its mouth:

" Master, I can't crawl. Why am I so small? " I heard it say. In Parseltongue!

I hurriedly cast the familiar identification spell. And it returned positive!

" Happy birthday, Nagini," I hissed back to her. " We have so much to talk about. "