He couldn't help but wonder if Voldemort would have turned out a lot nicer if he'd been found when he was younger and given to someone who loved him like Harry had. If Alabasandria Adams arrived at his orphanage instead of Dumbledore.
Actually, that sounded like a nightmare. He seriously doubted Voldemort would have appreciated mama like Harry did. More than likely they would have brought out the worst of each other. Harry had worked hard to whittle away at his mama's cold, dead heart. She would not have given Voldemort hugs. He would have been just another apprentice. And she would have given him untold power.
"Are you alright, Harry?"
"Yes, sorry. That was a lot to take in."
In good news, Harry felt a lot more sober. In bad news, Harry was sad again.
"Indeed, indeed. Did you notice, perchance, some further insight into Tom Riddle's character? He likes to collect trophies. Items of significance related to his victims, feats of magic, or with sentimental value."
Ah, so that was the point of the memory. He wasn't sure if Dumbledore was messing with him at this point, the way he danced around the subject of horcruxes as if speaking the word would make Harry faint in horrified outrage.
Harry nodded, hoping that his face did not betray that he already knew what Dumbledore was vaguely and unhelpfully hinting at. His eyes flickered to the Gaunt ring nestled on the man's finger.
He did a double-take.
There was something different about it. His magic, unbidden, swirled around him, beckoning to the ring. The faint curse of the horcrux lingered around it, but there was something more.
Death, his mind supplied. The Hallows. How he noticed this now and not before he'd met Death was a bit unnerving. Had he actually been cursed when Death's bone finger grazed his face? How else had he developed a sudden sixth sense for the Hallows.
It was like the ring spoke to him, or rather, the pure, matte black chalcedony gem nestled into the thick band. The circular gem reflected no light, drawing in darkness and reminding Harry of the empty pits of Death's eyes.
The magic turned his gaze to the professor, who held the memory strand by the tip of his wand and gently poured the silvery mixture back into the little bottle he kept it in.
The Headmaster's wand tugged against his mind. Mine. Want. Need.
The Resurrection Stone. The Elder Wand. Sitting right there… if he could just take them…
"Harry?"
He followed the wand's movements.
Now this, he was certain, he must not let Dumbledore know.
But Dumbledore was confusing. Sort of on the same side, but also not. A third player that he could not afford to miscalculate. Harry could probably deal with Voldemort. But Voldemort and Dumbledore?
Did Death expect him to murder the man? If Dumbledore knew about the horcruxes, then he needed to be left alive and questioned. He had no idea where the man truly stood or how much he knew. He was being so damn vague!
"I'm sorry, I was listening. It's just, that I was reminded of something Sirius mentioned to me." Harry paused, threw caution to the wind, and went for it. "It was called a horcrux, professor. He said it was vile, Dark magic that could keep people alive long after their corpses rotted under the earth. It's a part of your soul that you put into an object. Do you think that might be what Voldemort is using?"
"Sirius mentioned this to you." Dumbledore's voice had taken on an unfamiliar, sharp tone. Harry kept his eyes planted firmly on the sweets he was unrolling with desperate fervor.
"Yes, sir. He lives in his family's old house. He was cleaning out the attic and I was fascinated with all the books they had. One of them mentioned it in passing and he told me about it."
"What was the name of this book, Harry?"
"Um, I'm not sure." He knew mama had a book that mentioned them somewhere, but he wasn't Hermione, he didn't memorize everything he'd ever read. "It was called something dumb like 'Secrets of Dark Magic' or something similar. I don't think Sirius kept the book, sorry."
"Ah, I think I know the book you refer to. And did Sirius mention how he knew about this magic?"
"No. But he told me the Blacks were pretty crazy. He didn't let me open some of the books in there, let alone read them. Or maybe he learned about them when he was an auror?"
Dumbledore did not say anything for a long time. Harry was too frightened to look the man in the eye because his occlumency was absolute pants, so he just kept eating the lemon candies and waited in tense silence. He could only guess the myriad of expressions that might be on Dumbledore's face. Maybe he would pull out his wand. Would Harry notice in time?
"I do believe your theory has merit, my dear boy. Do you remember the diary which opened the Chamber of Secrets?"
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