AN: Hi everyone, glad to see you guys are enjoying the story so far. We hit 100 POWERSTONES so here's the BONUS chapter- enjoy!
Daphne ended up starting in the Potions and ingredients section, while Blake decided to look through curses.
At least, that's what he told Daphne, as he rapidly skimmed through all the books on Dark spells that he could find.
Horcruxes, or any reference of soul magic, he reminded himself. I won't get an opportunity like this again.
But, even after hours of searching, Blake couldn't find a thing. Daphne, however, was having the opposite luck.
"I've got 14 ingredients so far," she stated. "All quite rare, but given the resources at our disposal, we should have most of them in the next week, and the rarest ones in the next month. You?"
"Nothing," he said, exasperated, as he went to find Sirius, who was playing a game of Wizard Chess with Remus.
"Sorry to disturb your game," Blake began.
"Not at all," Sirius said eagerly. "Looks like the game's cancelled, Moony."
Remus just laughed, turning to Blake. "He's just embarrassed he's never beat me."
"Untrue! Anyway, Blake, what's the matter?"
"I was wondering if that was all the information you had for Dark Arts and curses? I've looked through basically all of it, and there was nothing on blood curses. Any archives or anything like that?"
Sirius stroked his beard carefully.
"There is a room full of old books from decades, or even centuries ago, somewhere in the back. If you want, I can get Kreacher to get the key for it?"
"I'd really appreciate that," Blake said thankfully.
"Follow me then."
/
The second after Kreacher stopped making a fuss and let Blake into the room, the muggleborn boy instantly had to step back out, coughing.
There's so much dust and cobwebs… I don't think anyone's been in there for years!
"Lumos! Scourgify!"
That's better.
Blake picked up the first book, and immediately realised that these books and spells had been locked up for a reason.
A curse designed to liquefy bone from the inside. A binding ritual requiring the target's shadow specifically. A hex documented as producing insanity in anyone who heard it cast. A memory erasure spell - not an accident of magic but something designed, precise, built for a purpose.
Horrible, he thought, but he couldn't help but genuine admiration for the craftsmanship. Feeling slightly sick at himself, he mentally stored them all anyway.
He kept moving.
Horcruxes. Soul magic. Soul splitting. If any of them are going to be in a book somewhere, it's got to be here.
He didn't know what it would look like. He just knew what it meant - Riddle survived. He was already gone before Harry finished him. Something held him here. Something that shouldn't be possible.
But even as he went through a quarter, half even three quarters of all the books there, he still hadn't found it - until he came across a small, dark brown book that had no title. It was slightly warm to the touch, but seemed to be in mint condition otherwise. Blake's heartbeat began to race. He opened it.
First page. Handwriting that had the quality of someone who considered their own name important.
Herpo the Foul.
Blake stopped.
He knew that name. Second year, a footnote in Magical Theory - Herpo of Greece, attributed with the first recorded creation of a Basilisk, circa 1000 BC.
The same man who had created the Basilisk, the monster that had petrified his little brother, Hermione and so many others, and had even killed a girl. His heartbeat quickened even more.
He started reading, looking through the various abominations the man had managed to come up with, until he reached the final chapter. Blake's blood ran cold.
He read it once, then went back to the beginning and read it again. Then a third time, slowly.
Horcruxes.
Soul fragments, stored in objects. To do so, one must commit cold blooded, intentional murder, cast a spell, and then-
He felt sick as he stared at the page for what seemed like eternity.
"Blake? Blake!"
Daphne, he thought, coming out of his haze. From the main library.
He closed the book, his hands steady and his heart rate back to normal, jaw clenched.
And Voldemort did that.
He slid it inside his robes, spine flat against his chest. Picked up the stack he'd already set aside - a Potions compendium, two history texts, an old warding manual - and put the unmarked book at the bottom.
"Coming," he said.
She was standing when he walked back in, looking at him.
"You were quiet," she said.
"I was reading."
She held the look for a second longer than that required.
"Are you alright?"
"Fine," he said. "What've you got?"
After looking at him oddly for a second longer, she let it go, and showed him her notes.
She'd found Balmoral Moss with documented properties in blood stasis. Twice-Turned Silver, an alchemical compound from the fifteenth century with applications in curse mitigation. Moonwater - water that had never touched sunlight from the moment it left a spring, sealed under specific lunar conditions.
"These are all even rarer than the rarest ones from my other list," she noted.
"Yeah," Blake agreed. "But possible. Your Greengrass contacts-"
"Our," she corrected.
Blake couldn't help but give away a small smile at that. "Our," she agreed.
He went back to the archive room to check for anything else on those ingredients, his mind still fixated on that.
So, my guess was right, he thought dryly. Wonderful.
There had been nothing in the book on whether or not the ritual could be completed multiple times. Who knows? Blake thought. Maybe he only had the balls to do it once?
But, despite his attempt at self delusion, Blake knew that wasn't the case. He thought back to first year, seeing Voldemort's disgusting form, and the few pictures of him in old newspapers and textbooks.
He had no nose, hair, normal skin, eyes, lips - it's more likely than not that he made more than just the diary. And speaking of the diary, it was definitely a Horcrux. It had sentience, and Riddle wanted to revive himself using Ginny - it makes complete sense.
Blake shuddered again.
So, unless I find all of these Horcruxes, and destroy them, no matter what we do…
He put it out of his mind.
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