Two weeks had passed since Salazar had begun his strange habits; much of that time was spent reading without reprieve (as well as a bit of muttering), and the portrait showed no sign of stopping. As such, Harry had been forced to vacate the chamber for the better part of each day; if he chose not to, he would have to suffer through immensely irritating headaches, all of which were caused by the portrait's actions.
Harry had therefore decided to spend the better part of the fourteen days in the Owlery with Hedwig. He would often bring a few theory books out from the chamber, to help him with his spell casting. He was making steady improvements - he would wager he was by far the best at practical magic in the year - but it was nothing to gloat about. Dumbledore wasn't a fourth year. Neither was Voldemort.
Harry had also chosen to attend a few of his classes, but that was merely out of feeling lonely (and perhaps a bit bored), as opposed to actually being interested in learning anything. Harry was now feeling more alone than ever, as he only could really interact with Hedwig. Attending the classes was helping a fair bit - he at least talked to people very now and then - but Harry still felt lonely, and still remained alone. It was as though he was being locked into his cupboard, alone to suffer within the depths of the darkness.
Regardless of how lonely he felt, Harry only ever attended Charms, Transfiguration, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Harry had originally gone to Herbology as well, but decided against it after the look of annoyance he was sent by Professor Sprout and the Hufflepuffs. The glares were not as hostile as before, but they were not exactly pleasant either.
Susan was nice though. Harry quite like her, if he was being honest. She had been shy at the start, but that was slowly changing. More importantly, she treated Harry with kindness and respect, and had always done so.
Her friend, Hannah, wasn't to bad too bad as well. Harry didn't like her nearly as much as he did Susan, however; he was fairly certain that the girl was only kind to him because Susan had asked her to be.
Regardless, it mattered little at the moment; Harry was not interested in returning to Professor Sprout's care, regardless of enjoying the presence of a few of the woman's pupils.
The Owlery was rather nice if Harry was being honest. The place was rather calming thanks to the gentle breeze it held. The lack of human voices also likely had something to do with it. There were no windows either; Harry felt free up hear, not unsimilar to how he often felt on his firebolt.
The only downside had been the rather putrid smell. The owls did not seem to particularly care where they went to the bathroom, judging by the furnishings of the Owlery.
Harry had decided to use the piles of dung as practice for his wandless magic, particularly his elemental control. He had progressed with his current elements to the point where he could create small bolts of lightning spark from his hands, although aiming them was much harder.
Fire, however, hadn't been nearly as hard. Harry had been rather grateful that the Owlery was not made of wood; that might have caused a disaster. As a matter of fact, there had still been a few times when the fire somehow managed to spread. Harry had used his wand to conjure water both times, not willing to rely on his wandless magic just yet.
At the very moment, Harry sat in the Owlery with Hedwig, feeding her several strips of bacon he had procured from the Gryffindor table at breakfast. The food Harry provided her with seemed to be her main source of food as far as Harry could tell. The small rodents she often hunted were almost always given to him, as a sort of gift from Hedwig.
It had taken Hedwig the first few months of Harry's first year to understand that Harry did not eat the miniature creatures. She still brought them, of course, but now she simply showed them to Harry before tossing them away. Rather wasteful, but Harry didn't particularly care.
On the off chance that she might accidentally hunt down Pettigrew.
Harry knew it wouldn't happen, but it didn't hurt to hope. But from what he remembered from Professor Trelawney's prophecy, Wormtail was likely long gone, no doubt bowing before Tom Marvolo Riddle at this very moment. Harry truthfully didn't understand why Pettigrew would return to help Voldemort. From what Harry knew of the dark lord, he certainly didn't seem to be someone one might want to spend time with.
Or perhaps he was. Harry was beginning to understand what Salazar meant - Voldemort and Tom Riddle were two very different people. The former was horrible, as shell of what he once was. The latter no doubt had his issues, but he had not yet fallen so deeply. Neither was pleasant - at least not to harry - but only one was a monster.
Regardless, Harry doubted that neither Tom Marvolo Riddle nor Lord Voldemort would care even slightly for Wormtail's wellbeing. For the rat Animagus to return was immensely foolish.
And the many stupidities of my generation continue . . .
Harry very well remembered what Trelawney had said about the servant returning to his master. He had still chosen to check the Marauder's Map for the traitorous rat, but had yet to find anything. He was not surprised; he had always known that such a thing was unlikely to say the least.
Harry also used the map to make sure no one was around when he came to visit the Owlery. He had applied many basic wards Salazar had taught him to repel people from visiting, but they were not powerful enough to stop anyone who was truly determined to enter the place.
"Stupid Salazar." Harry muttered, setting fire to a rather large pile of dung on the far side of the room.
Many of the owls around him hooted in annoyance, though they instantly quieted when Hedwig flapped her wings.
That was something Harry was grateful for: the owls of Hogwarts always quieted when Hedwig asked them to. Why, Harry was not sure. He suspected it had something to do with her intelligence. It was painfully obvious that the strength of her mind greatly surpassed those of other owls. Harry wondered if the submissiveness of the other owls had anything to do with that.
Harry had therefore made his way over to the library (under his Invisibility Cloak), attempting to research the subject. As it turned out, however, his talent for researching was not at all on par with his ability to use magic. It was something he would have to change. Left with little other choice, Harry had returned to the chamber, voicing his curiosities to Salazar.
The portrait had only spent a few seconds thinking on the subject before responding, as opposed to the several minutes he usually took. After that, he had immediately returned to his stack of books.
If Harry was being honest with himself, he was rather annoyed with the portrait at the moment. The past two weeks had not been particularly substantial when it came to his magical improvement. He was certainly prodigious for his age, that was no doubt, but his power was still below that of those he was competing against, particularly Fleur and Krum.
The other champions did not know that, thanks to the spell he had used for the first task (which they simply assumed was a one-off occurrence, as far as Harry could tell). But after studying the spell deeply, Harry had to concede that Salazar had been right. The spell was made perfectly for a Mage; had he not been one, he highly doubted he could have pulled it off with nearly as much success as he had.
Perhaps if he trained incredibly hard, he might be able to surpass them in a few months, but he would need Salazar to guide him. At the moment, that was certainly not happening.
He was pleased, however, to note that his skill in wandless magic was improving. Harry was careful not to use wandless magic too often; if his wandless casting tired from exhaustion, so would his normal wand magic. He would be completely incapable of using magic for some time, something which Harry certainly was not interested in having to go through.
Unfortunately, his improvement in wandless magic only applied to his stamina. His control was still as weak as ever, and would likely remain so until he properly learnt Occlumency. On the bright side, he was currently in no rush. Compared to his peers, Harry was far ahead of where he should be.
To be fair, my peers aren't Mages. Not exactly an apt comparison.
Harry ignored that part of his mind. Getting up from his spot on the Owlery floor, he waved farewell to Hedwig before exiting the area. If he left now, he might be able to make it to Transfiguration. Harry was bored out of his mind to the point where a Transfiguration lesson with McGonagall was rather appealing at the moment.
Upon entering the Transfiguration classroom, Harry was not at all surprised to find the eyes of everyone in the room on him. Harry rarely attended classes, and it was clear to all that he only ever did it when there was no better option. This had seemingly annoyed Hermione quite a bit, although she said nothing on it. That was likely due to the bushy haired girl still feeling guilty about abandoning him.
And if her red eyes mean anything, she's still upset.
Professor McGonagall had initially reprimanded Harry for skiving the majority of his classes, claiming that they were now more important than ever, considering Harry's involvement in the Triwizard Tournament.
Professor McGonagall stopped commenting when Harry gave a small demonstration of his enhanced prowess, something that had caught the eye of one Hermione Granger. Harry was fairly certain that Hermione was still trying to find out wherever it was that Harry constantly spent his time, and was likely becoming more and more frustrated at each failure she had in discovering it's whereabouts.
The Transfiguration lesson went by fairly quickly, with each of the students attempting to transfigure a rat into a mouse. Harry had initially tried doing this with his wandless magic. The result had been the rat somehow suffering from hair loss, a ghastly sight. He had eventually decided against messing around with his wandless magic, proceeding to transfigure it silently instead.
He had gained ten points from McGonagall for being the first in transfiguring his rat, something which earned him the slight ire of Hermione. Harry had fought very hard not to make a sarcastic comment at the points he had earned. It would not do well to set Hermione or McGonagall into a worse mood.
"Ms. Brown, please collect the rodents from each of the students, and place them in the black bin on my table." said McGonagall at the end of class. Lavender paled drastically, shaking her head.
"Merlin's sake dear, they won't bite!" exclaimed McGonagall, before allowing Hermione to retrieve each of the rodents. The girl moved past Harry's desk without stopping. There was no rat on his desk, after all - Harry had practiced his wandless magic upon it, causing it to catch fire.
Hermione, having seen his actions (although she had not noticed his lack of a wand) had silently panicked - something which likely had to do with Harry setting a living creature on fire. Not that he cared; Harry could tell with absolute certainty that these were merely fruit that Professor McGonagall had transfigured into rats.
Harry understood why, of course. The professor wanted to observe their ability in transfiguring objects that had already been transfigured. It was slightly more difficult than transfiguring a normal object, as the transfigured objects held Professor's McGonagall's will within them. As the students tried to transfigure the objects into mice, Professor McGonagall's will sly fought against it, whispering at the objects to remain in the form of a rat.
Why Professor McGonagall wished to have the fruit returned to her, however, Harry had no idea.
A few moments later, the class was dismissed. Harry slowly got up from his desk, pushing in his chair and grabbing his book bag.
"Potter, if you could please wait for a moment." said Professor McGonagall from the front of the class, causing Ron, Dean, and Seamus (as well as many of the Ravenclaws who they shared the class with) to chuckle snidely. Ignoring them, Harry made his way to the front of the class.
Once everyone else had departed from the classroom, Professor McGonagall turned to him.
"Mr. Potter, I am not sure if you have yet heard," she began, "seeing as you have chosen to no longer stay in Gryffindor Tower, but there is another segment of the Triwizard Tournament taking place on December 25th."
Harry paled drastically. He was not at all prepared for the task in February, there was no way he could prepare for anything overly dangerous with such a small window of time.
I don't even have Salazar to help me get more powerful, or to at least teach me something useful.
That wasn't entirely true. Harry was fairly certain that when Harry told the portrait about this new task, Salazar would stop with whatever research he was doing, and help Harry.
"The Yule Ball will be taking place, a sort of formal ball that is held during the tournament. The champions and their dates are expected to open the ball."
The dread that Harry had been feeling had now transformed into a type of fear he had not felt in quite a while.
"Date?" asked Harry, his voice hoarse, "Dance?"
"Yes Potter, it is clear you have understood my point." said McGonagall, "So make sure you find a date."
"But Professor, I don't dance!" exclaimed Harry.
"You do now, Mr. Potter." said McGonagall curtly.
"Then I'm not going." said Harry stubbornly.
"You will indeed be going." replied Professor McGonagall in an exasperated voice, "It is a part of the Triwizard Tournament, to not show up would mean to forfeit your magic."
Silence permeated through the room for a few short moments before it was replaced with Harry cursing quietly in Parseltongue. Professor McGonagall flinched slightly at the action, though did nothing else.
"You are immensely lucky that I could not understand you, Mr. Potter." said McGonagall coolly.
"Why, ten points from Gryffindor?" asked Harry sarcastically. trying his hardest to calm down. Professor McGonagall was many things, but rude to him was not one of them. Placing his annoyance with the whole situation on the Transfiguration Professor was unfair to say the least.
I really need to work on my Occlumency.
Calming himself slightly, Harry turned to face McGonagall, his featured now calm. Professor McGonagall shook her head in annoyance before returning to her desk.
"On an entirely unrelated subject," began Professor McGonagall, "Both the headmaster and I have been concerned about your recent behavior, as well as your lack of friends."
"I haven't even talked to Professor Dumbledore recently, how could he be concerned about my recent behavior?" questioned Harry.
"The school is filled with students, professors, portraits and ghosts." said McGonagall, "Therefore, the headmaster hears quite a bit, I assure you. If he didn't, the Weasley twins would have likely destroyed the school by now."
Harry nodded, lost in thought. He had not really thought about Dumbledore having potential spies across the school. Well, perhaps spies was not the apt word; students likely did not mean anything when they spoke to the headmaster, and it was likely the same case with most of the professors. It could possibly be the same case with the ghosts.
The portraits, however, were another matter. Salazar had told him that portraits were almost always created to spread information in some way, whether it be knowledge, understanding, or something else. It was the reason that Salazar himself had created his portrait, to teach his heirs - or at least, those that had managed to find the chamber.
It was certainly food for thought. Harry would have to be much more careful when he was outside of the chamber. He clearly remembered how the headmaster's office was practically filled with portraits.
"I'm fine." said Harry, turning back to Professor McGonagall, "I don't need friends right now, I don't want them."
"Potter, don't be foolish." reprimanded McGonagall.
"I'm not. I'm fine."
Professor McGonagall clearly didn't believe him, though she said nothing. She merely picked up a biscuit, before motioning towards the door.
"Bloody hell." muttered Harry upon exiting the classroom, "Dance partners? She's out of her bloody mind!"
Harry supposed that if he really desired he could simply ask one of the chasers to go with him to the ball, although he highly doubted that would be a good solution. He was neutral with them at the moment, nothing more and nothing less. They were not the best candidates for a partner.
Harry was starting to realise that best and good were two very different things.
Sighing slightly, Harry made his way down to the kitchens.
Harry made his way down into the Chamber of Secrets, having just finished eating lunch with Hedwig in the Owlery (dinner was the only meal that required students to eat in the Great Hall, something that Harry took advantage of). Harry had a great time sitting by his beloved owl (and likely always would), but he was starting to get rather annoyed by Salazar's behavior.
The portrait had been very wrapped up with whatever he had been researching, and it was not something that Harry appreciated very much. This, combined with the fact that the portrait was clearly researching something that involved Harry's wellbeing, did not please Harry one bit.
He hadn't been overly worried about it during the past two weeks, but that was almost entirely because of Hedwig. Spending time with the beautiful owl had managed to get his mind off things, but that did not apply to the times that he was within the chamber, just as he was right now.
"Will you please just finish whatever you're doing and tell me what's wrong?" asked Harry as he entered the study.
"Funny, I was just about to talk to you." said Salazar.
The portrait seemed incredibly tired, and just as pale as he had weeks prior. He was clearly depressed, which Harry didn't even know was possible for a portrait.
Which likely means that I have an extremely bad problem. Let's just hope it can be resolved.
Salazar had always told Harry that as long as an issue wasn't permanent, it wasn't an issue to worry about. Harry wasn't entirely sure he agreed with the portrait's viewpoint, and had voiced it. Upon hearing that, Salazar had told him that this reasoning was why death was the biggest problem one might ever face, especially the death of loved ones.
Harry hadn't commented on the subject after that, merely informing the portrait that he understood. But the fact that the portrait seemed so stressed at the moment certainly concerned Harry more than a little bit.
"I'm assuming you found out whatever was wrong with me?" asked Harry.
"Indeed I have." said the portrait, his voice growing slightly grim, "Tell me, what do you know about horcruxes?"
"Only that Riddle made them, and that you wouldn't take it too kindly if I chose to make one." said Harry, recalling his previous conversations with the portrait.
"Correct. I had initially planned on waiting a while before I spoke to you on such a subject, but it seems that the subject can not be held back much longer. You are running out of time, and you must be prepared. We will increase the rate of all of your training, so that we might begin properly working on your wandless magic within a few months. I can not continue to keep knowledge to myself; this is your own fight, not mine"
"How bad can it be that you're willing to let me begin working on my wandless magic so soon?" asked Harry uncertainty, deciding not to mention that he had been practicing the very thing for the last few weeks. He hadn't improved by much either way.
Regardless, Harry knew why it was that Salazar had not wanted him to begin practicing his wandless magic. Small things were fine (such as the things he had been practicing within the Owlery), but practicing bigger things without solid control would end dismally. For Salazar to be willing to train Harry in the art so soon - the issue Salazar had discovered clearly was quite a big deal.
"What do you know about the soul?" asked Salazar, ignoring Harry's previous question.
"Er - what?"
Salazar cursed quietly in Parseltongue. For once, Harry did not hear anything about the stupidity of his generation.
"The soul is, in essence, who you are. It is your way of thinking, your consciousness. It is what makes you who you are, what makes you different and unique. One will only ever die when their soul is no longer bound to the earth, which almost always means when their soul is separated from their bodies - Dementors being the exception, of course.
"Now, one's soul is typically not harmed when one dies. It simply leaves its container, nothing more. If you were killed by most magical methods of murder, you would die, but your soul would remain completely unharmed."
"Which would be of great comfort to me, I'm sure." remarked Harry.
"It should be." said Salazar, "Your soul is who you are. As long as it remains, so do you. This remains true, even if you are no longer alive."
"So then what happens after someone dies?" asked Harry curiously.
"The 'next great adventure', I suppose." answered Salazar, "That's what Helga always told us."
"But you've died. How don't you know?"
"I'm a portrait." snapped Salazar, "Portraits are created through a spell derived from soul magic. If your soul ever came into contact with mine, that version of my soul would likely know just as much as I do. I think and act exactly as that soul would. But I am not that soul."
"So do you have a soul?" asked Harry.
"No, I do not." explained the portrait, "I am simply a portrait linked to a soul, using magic. It is a link that will eventually fade, as all magics eventually do. The spell required to create a portrait is derived from soul magic, as I said. Since you have to interact with the soul to create the portrait, a portrait can only be made by the person it depicts."
"That sounds rather complex." noted Harry.
"The spell itself is truthfully quite simple, but I digress. The soul is a very simple yet complex thing, both pure and impure. But whatever the soul does to another will occur onto itself. I am sure you have heard the saying 'treat others the way you want to be treated'?"
"Yeah, one of my teachers used to say that to all of us in class." remembered Harry, "But she always seemed to forget it whenever Dudley and his friends would knock me around."
"Yes, well that is why the saying exists, or at least where it originates from. The actions you take, and in turn the experiences you create or go through, effect what happens to your soul. If you commit horrible actions, you will likely become a horrible person. If you are kind to others, you become a kind person."
"That makes no sense at all." said Harry, "Obviously if you act nice you'll be a nice person, what's your point?"
"If a horrible person started doing kind things, they would start becoming a kinder person, would they not?" asked Salazar.
"I suppose."
"Exactly. The soul is a distorted mirror of sorts. When it causes something to occur to others, a distorted version occurs onto itself."
"You've lost me again, with the whole distortion thing."
"The soul, as I said, is who you are. It contains your beliefs and way of thinking." explained Salazar, "It is your perspective on the world around you. Tell me, does your perspective of events not change the way you see them? Your bias, of sorts?"
"I guess so."
"That is what causes your distortion. The way your soul sees and understands will distort what happens to it. If it did not, then everything that you did to someone else's soul would happen to your own. By that logic, if you killed someone, you would also die, which is obviously not the case."
"And that doesn't happen because of this distortion, which is created by your perspective, the way you see and understand things?" asked Harry.
"Correct, although it is quite clear to me that you don't seem to understand."
"I don't." admitted Harry, "But I think I'm getting the general gist of it."
"Do not be disappointed." said Salazar, "I was first introduced to it when I was in my late teens, and only truly understood it in my early thirties. Understanding the soul, or understanding as much of it as one can is not necessary for what you need to know. It is interesting, no doubt, but not something you should waste time trying to understand.
"Take the copy of 'Secrets of the Darkest Arts' from my desk." said Salazar, pointing at the book, "I am practically saying the same thing, although I suppose I might be harder to understand. The page is already open. If you continue reading, it will explain what a horcrux is as well. You will not understand most of it, but you should at least understand what a horcrux truly is."
Harry nodded, taking the ancient tome from the desk as instructed.
'One of the most basic principles of the soul is that it is defined by the experiences it goes through; the soul often mirrors whatever it is exposed to. The 'mirroring' is not entirely identical to whatever it is that the soul observes. It is distorted by perspective, the way that the soul views the world. A person's beliefs or thoughts on certain things affect what happens to the soul. This is why the average person will feel immense guilt upon killing someone, but a person suffering from madness would not.
A big part of the experiences that define a soul involves the way it interacts with other souls. If a person often sees acts of kindness (or if they participate in acts of kindness), the soul will learn a version of kindness as well. The kindness is affected by their perspective; it is why no one's definition of kindness is exactly the same as another's. The same applies to practically all characteristic traits, both positive and negative.
These rules are fairly simple most of the time. They become incredibly complex, however, when it comes to removing the soul of another.
If it were not for this distortion caused by perspective (also commonly referred to as will), every action one commits upon another would be replicated unto themselves. If one were to kill another (removing their soul from their body), they too would find their soul removed from their body. Due to the distortion, this is not the case. Magic is also another reason for this not being the case, but very little is known about this branch of magic, known as soul magic, and therefore I can provide no knowledge on it.
When someone kills another, their perspective creates a distortion, allowing the murderer to continue living. For most, the distortion creates guilt. The murder feels bad about their actions. In such cases, the effects are felt by the mind of the killer, rather than their actual soul.
Occasionally, a murder will feel indifference. Examples of this include simply not caring, or perhaps the witch or wizard in question believed they did the right thing. In such cases, absolutely no effect will be taken onto the soul. The distortion will completely eradicate any adverse effects, as it aligns with the souls way of thinking, or their beliefs. This is because the person believes themselves to have done the proper thing. It typically occurs within warriors who fight for something they believe in.
However, only the third case is necessary for the creation of a horcrux. If you wish to read more on the effects on the soul, go to page 394.
The third and final case is when a murder feels pleasure in what they have done. In this case (and this case alone), the effects of what they have done are felt upon their souls. Their minds will have not cared, and will remain unscathed (as the mind of the murderer is already changed). However, their souls will be torn, or damaged. A murder of this kind is the only known way to actually damage a soul.
When the soul has been damaged or torn, the murderer in question can choose to move this torn part of their soul into something else. This is a horcrux: an object or being that houses a foreign soul.
While a horcrux of a witch or wizard exists, the person will be tethered to the earth. Even if their soul is removed from their body (the event that causes death), they will continue to live on, as they will still have a part of their soul earthbound.
A soul can only take one form of consciousness; if one were to create a horcrux, they would find that the horcrux appears to be practically identical to a normal object. However, if the main part of a witch or wizard's soul is removed from their body, it will become possible for the horcrux to gain consciousness.
In other words, a witch or wizard who has horcrux is essentially immortal.
There is, however, a major drawback to the creation of horcruxes (aside from having to kill someone). The soul, as aforementioned, is one's beliefs or ideals. Their perspective, of sorts. If one were to create a horcrux, they would find themselves to be a shell of what they once were. They will have lost a decent chunk of what makes them human: their humanity.
It is possible to turn a living being into a horcrux, although it is heavily advised against. A horcrux, and in turn the soul that resides within it, is destroyed when its container is damaged beyond repair (a horcrux is the opposite of the human body. When one's body is destroyed, their soul is unscathed. When a horcrux is destroyed, so is the soul residing within it).This typically involves potent magics such as the Killing Curse, or Fiendfyre.
Creating a horcrux in something that can think for itself is unlikely to end well. The being can think and act for itself, and is therefore capable of 'damaging its physical body beyond repair', or to be more specific, coming in contact with potent magics, which are quite likely to kill them.
However, creating a horcrux within a living being does have its advantages. It will form a type of telepathic bond between the person and their horcrux, a bond only matched by that of the a soul bond (such as marriage soul bonds, phoenix soul bonds, and basilisk soul bonds). This is likely because all four are a variant of a bond that heavily involves the soul.
Given time (as well as displays of kindness and other 'pure' actions of the heart), the soul can heal. This is possible even if a part of the soul has been turned into a horcrux, although such a case is much harder. If the witch or wizard truly feels remorse for what they have done, they can potentially make their soul whole again. Doing so, however, has a high chance of killing them, and they are therefore unlikely to attempt it.
It is worth noting that one must intend to create a horcrux for one to be made. If they do not (but still kill with and for pleasure), they will merely split their soul, without gaining the benefits and problems that come with the creation of a horcrux.
The necessary steps to create a horcrux are quite simple, yet equally putrid. One must first kill someone, and do so for the sake of pleasure, amusement, or something similar. Once you have killed, you must think of the memory before proceeding by - '
Harry put the book down, not even remotely interested in learning more on the disgusting creation of a horcrux.
"You were right." said Harry, "I barely understood the first half dozen paragraphs. But those are likely the most horrible things I've ever heard of."
"Ah, so you must have stopped at the point where the book got to its creation?" asked Salazar.
Harry, however, was not at all listening. He was beginning to question why Salazar was showing him this, and the only logical conclusion was one he dearly hoped was incorrect.
"Did Riddle make one?"
"He planned on creating seven."
Harry could not contain himself. He bent over the side of the desk, puking out the remains of his lunch. He continued to cough for a few moments, before he vanished what he had regurgitated. When he finally stood up, it was with very weak knees.
"He's immortal." said Harry weakly, "He shredded his soul."
"Indeed he is, and indeed he has. But tell me, what have you observed within the text you read? Anything you might recognize, or find familiar?" asked Salazar, his voice uncharacteristically soft and caring.
"No, I didn't see any - "
Telepathic connection. Think and act for itself. Contact with potent magics.
"I believe," said Salazar softly and slowly, "That you are a horcrux."
Silence.
Harry had no external reaction - it was something he had seen coming moments before the portrait had said it. Internally, however, he was horrified. How much of himself was, well, himself? How could he possibly survive this war if Voldemort possessed immortality for as long as he lived?
Drunk on emotion, Harry's eyes began to slowly water, regardless of him ruthlessly attempting to suppress any and all emotion.
Harry was not crying to throw a tantrum, nor because Voldemort was quite clearly immortal. He was mourning the life he could have had, free of the control of others. A life where he would not have to do what others had planned for him to do, but one where he chose what happened to him. To live long enough to finally discover his king piece, whatever it was that he was fighting for, whatever it was that mattered to him above all else.
"How?" Harry croaked out, "How can I possibly fight him? How can I be free?"
"There is a way for you to remove the horcrux within you, without dying." revealed Salazar, "But it will be immensely difficult, and is entirely theoretical."
"All I need is possible." said Harry weakly.
"You must work on your Occlumency to an incredible degree. Once you have succeeded, you must allow yourself to be hit with the Killing Curse once more, preferably by Voldemort himself."
I could have sworn I said possible.
"He's half dead." said Harry, "He doesn't even have a physical form."
"He will eventually, I am sure." said Salazar, "Before I banished him, he was working on a ritual that would allow him to return to a physical state if needed. He only needed a few critical components, and more importantly, someone to get them for him."
"Pettigrew got away." muttered Harry angrily, "And Trelawney told me, she said, 'The Dark Lord will rise again with his servant's aid, greater and more terrible than ever he was.' Sirius was right . . . we should have killed him."
"What you could or should have done is of little importance, it is now set in stone and can not be reversed." said Salazar, "What you must be more concerned about is how to react in the future, so that you might be victorious."
Harry sighed dejectedly, slumping to the floor.
"Just tell me everything I need to know."
"I believed that your mother used a sort of Blood Ritual to give you protection from the Killing Curse. By dying to save you, she could have potentially powered a ritual that would render you immune to the Killing Curse, but I am not sure how long the protection would last. There would be much more in the complexities, but let us leave it at that."
"So she's the reason I survived?" asked Harry, suddenly finding himself becoming more depressed.
"Yes, I do believe so." said Salazar, "It would have explained why you were chosen for the horcrux rather than something else, perhaps an object or nearby muggle. You are a living being, and one with a powerfully ritualistic form of protection. The horcrux will have seen you as the best potential choice for a host."
"Dumbledore said that I was saved by the power of love."
"Dumbledore, while certainly a great wizard, is a manipulative bastard, as well as a part of your generation - "
Harry snorted angrily.
" - but in a way, he is correct."
Harry paused, completely frozen in place.
"The only reason you have this protection in the first place is because your mother loved you enough to die for you. Truthfully, there are no magics involving love. That is because love is a magic of itself. It can make people do things they would have never done before."
"Lovely." said Harry sarcastically, "Sounds like the Imperious Curse. I can't wait to fall in love."
"Her protection still exists, from what I can tell." Salazar continued, completely ignoring him, "I do not know the extent of the ritual or her sacrifice, but it is likely still active, and if its necessary requirements were met it would remain so until you are hit with another Killing Curse, or turn seventeen. Therefore, it is relatively safe to assume that if you were hit by another Killing Curse, there is at least a chance you would survive."
Harry paused for what must have been the hundredth time, before pacing back and forth through the study.
"So if I get hit by the curse, it would kill the horcrux, but not me?" asked Harry.
"There is a good chance." said Salazar, "Your odds would be improved if you learnt Occlumency, so that you can push forward the horcrux within you when struck, as well as have more control over your emotions, and, in turn, your magic. The same applies to Voldemort being the one to curse you, as the horcrux will likely be more active in the presence of its master, although I do not believe that is necessary, strictly speaking. Just being hit by a Killing Curse should be suitable.
"I am not sure how the ritual your mother created will work. If it is the ritual I believe it to be, its strength depends on how much love you have for those who share your blood. Had you been raised by your relatives properly, it would likely last until your seventeenth birthday. Unfortunately, that is not the case - you do not consider them to be your family. I suspect it will only last until you are hit with a Killing Curse again, at best. After that the protection will fade into nothingness"
"So it's possible." Harry summed up, "But what about Voldemort returning? If having him get a body back is what I need to live, I would be better off dying."
"Nonsense, that is a Gryffindor's train of thought." reprimanded Salazar, "Besides, I said that Voldemort cursing you would only increase your odds, not that it was necessary. The only reason I mentioned it at all was because I believe your mother's ritual is fading, due to the lack of love from your relatives - and if that is the case, we need all the aid we can get."
"I am a Gryffindor." Harry reminded him, although the portrait chose to ignore him.
"Regardless, you understand that it is possible to succeed, correct?" asked Salazar, "Even if it will be near impossible?"
"Everything I do is near impossible." said Harry, "Besides, I don't have a choice. If I ever run into a Voldemort with a body, I'll jump in the way of his Killing Curses. It'll confuse the hell out of him."
"I am glad to see that you are taking it well." said Salazar kindly, though the portrait still showed signs of stress (as did Harry).
"I guess crying about it won't help. If I want to be free to truly live, I have to put in the work."
"Good." said the portrait, "Now, there is one more thing we need to speak of."
"Is it more bad news?" asked Harry weakly, feeling much more depressed than he currently appeared.
"More like something to avoid in the future." explained Salazar, "The ingredients for a resurrection ritual are a bone from the father, flesh from the servant, and blood of a foe. I am nearly certain that Voldemort will try to use your blood in the ritual."
"Why?" asked Harry, "I know it can be used against me if they make a ritual, but why does it matter if it's being used in a resurrection ritual?"
"Because the blood used will be the blood that flows through him. Imagine an enemy that had the same blood as you, capable of entering any of your blood wards or vaults, having your blood flowing through their veins.
"There is also your mother's blood ritual to consider. If the ritual worked to its fullest, it could potentially make it impossible for him to kill you, but I doubt that is the case. You hold no love for those who share your blood; the protection will likely vanish from both of you the moment you are struck with the killing curse, leaving him with the benefits while stripping you of yours."
"Yeah, I get what you're saying. I'll just have to make sure that it doesn't happen."
Harry sat silently for a moment, thinking upon what he had heard. He suddenly stood up, having remembered something from when he was younger.
"In my first year, Voldemort wasn't able to touch me without hurting himself. Was that my mother's protection as well?"
"No, I do not think so." said Salazar, "You are a Mage. You are more than capable of performing magic without a wand. If you intended to keep him away from you, you have your explanation."
"And why didn't I make a horcrux after I killed those men in the clearing, after the Quidditch World Cup?"
"Because you either felt guilty, or believed you had done the right thing." said Salazar, "Certainly you did not kill them for any sort of sick pleasure - something which is necessary for the creation of a horcrux."
"Those men were probably going to do horrid things to those women." explained Harry, "I had thought I wouldn't be able to stop them - those women were much, much better duelists than I was at the time. I was just grateful I somehow managed to stop them, I guess."
"Then you have your answer. Besides, you must desire to create a horcrux. Otherwise, your soul will merely tear itself apart without finding a host object. The only reason Voldemort accidentally turned you into a horcrux was because his soul was already so damaged in the first place. Because of how damaged it is, he will likely be incapable of creating any more horcruxes."
Once again, Harry sat down, reflecting upon the events of the past hour. It was so hard to believe that just earlier today he was laughing by the lakeside with Fleur. He turned around, having heard a scraping noise from the chess board.
The silver queen was backed into a corner, the black queen and a few of its pawns surrounding it. The queen was practically out of luck, it would take a miracle to get out of its unfavourable position.
But on the other side of the board, a small puddle of molten silver occupied a previously empty square. The silver had not yet finished forming, but it was clearly in the slow process of building something, perhaps another piece upon the board.
My king piece.
It had only just begun to form, but Harry desperately wanted to find what it was. It was nothing short of a miracle, that was certain.
Harry turned back to Salazar, who was observing the molten silver with interest.
"Let's get to work on my Occlumency."