Ch. 2 — Chapter II

"We have oft declared that a grievous act  of  evil, one  so  vile  as  to  stand
against the very order of  nature, may  rend  the  soul  in  twain.   Though  the
fragments yet remain bound within the mortal vessel, such  a  path  is  one  few
would dare to tread.

Yet, through long observation, it is held that not only through wicked deed  may
the soul be divided.  For the heart, burdened by  endless  sorrow,  or  torn  by
cruel tragedy repeated without end,  may  suffer  such  torment  that  the  soul
itself grows frail, unstable, and at last is rent asunder by  its  own  despair.

Thus do we find ourselves bound to  certain  relics  of  deep  sentiment, objects
that, though not true Horcruxes, yet bear  an  echo  of  the  self,  infused  by
passion or grief so profound that they may wield a power akin to soul  magic  in
lesser measure.

But mark this well: for a true Horcrux to be wrought, both portions of the  soul
must know of their sundering.  No mere accident nor idle sentiment can  suffice.
The division must be born of conscious  will  and  dreadful  purpose,  else  the
fragment  shall  remain  inert,  unmoored  and  of  no  use   to   the   caster.

The act itself demands awareness, not chance.  It is whispered among the few who
still guard the forbidden lore of soul enchantments that one might,  in  theory,
divide the soul without bloodshed, by sheer depth of  feeling  alone.   Yet  such
mastery of  emotion  lies  far  beyond  common  reach,  for  the  gift  to  feel
profoundly is both the root  of  great  magic  and  the  seed  of  its  undoing.

Ancient tales speak  of  two  brothers  who,  seeking  to  sunder  their  souls,
wandered the world to behold its miseries, to look upon the pain  of  others  and
reflect upon their own.  But when they beheld the full measure of human anguish,
their resolve failed them, and they turned back toward the light.  For such work
is  not  for  the  faint  of  heart,  nor  for  any  who  yet   cherish   mercy.

And as for one who would mend a soul thus torn, let  them  know  that  only  true
remorse may heal that wound.  Yet the  agony  of  such  repentance  is  said  to
surpass all mortal suffering, and many who attempt it are driven to madness  ere
the task is done."

These words echoed in Harry's mind. He wasn't entirely sure what they meant. Hermione would have understood immediately, of course. The problem was that Harry no longer wanted to confide in her or Ron. They were too judgmental. He knew their concern came from love, but that didn't make it any less irritating.

"For a true Horcrux to be wrought, both portions of the soul must know of their sundering."

But that made no sense! Voldemort definitely had a Horcrux he hadn't been aware of, and it still worked. Could it be that although Voldemort himself didn't know, his soul did? Did a wizard's soul have its own kind of consciousness?

The more Harry thought about the book's words, the less they made sense. It was one of the volumes Hermione had summoned from Dumbledore's study. He'd been reading it almost religiously for months now. He didn't even know why he felt so drawn to it, and perhaps that was exactly why his friends worried about him.

Hermione behaved much as she had back when Harry couldn't put down the Half-Blood Prince's potion book, though this time she was gentler, she'd learned not to nag.

The first time they confronted him about his growing obsession with the Black library, the argument had gotten out of hand. Harry had accidentally set a couch on fire. A humiliating burst of wandless magic. They all agreed not to talk about it again, but he knew they'd been frightened. He'd overheard Hermione whispering later. "Oh, it's not his first time either!" and "Dear me, that was a terrible bit of uncontrolled magic, it was like Fiendfyre!" 

Harry had only thought bitterly, "No, it wasn't, Hermione." But he let it go.

"It is held that not only through wicked deed may the soul be divided. For the heart, burdened by endless sorrow, or torn by cruel tragedy repeated without end, may suffer such torment that the soul itself grows frail, unstable, and at last is rent asunder by its own despair."

Harry had certainly endured his share of repeated emotional trauma. Yet he was sure his soul was intact, it had to be. It was through that unmaimed soul that he had spoken to Dumbledore at King's Cross and returned to life. Dumbledore had claimed it was all happening in his mind, but Harry wasn't convinced, not anymore.

"I wish there was a way to confirm this..." he muttered to himself.

The book had to hold the answers. Nothing else could.

And at that very moment, a voice spoke, from one of the shelves.

"Confirm what?"

It was the familiar, bored and drawling voice of Phineas Nigellus. His portrait was one of the very few things that didn't have a permanent charm behind it and Harry, Ron and Hermione had decided to move it out of the way for the time being. Out of the way, meant that it was, along many other portraits, unceremoniously shoved face down in a shelf. Harry was considering to ignore him when he spoke again.

"Its Potter yes? I can't see you, but I know your voice boy!"

"You better mind your own business!"

"Or what? You spell my portrait so that I can't leave it and turn me upside down? Well that wouldn't be anything new!"

They had in fact placed a spell on his frame to keep him from leaving it. The idea had been Ron's, and a good one. They couldn't risk the portraits' owners wandering into other frames and reporting on them to the Ministry, the Prophet, or even the Hogwarts headmaster's office. So every portrait in Grimmauld Place had received the same treatment.

"Well-never you mind Phineas!" Said Harry irritably.

"If you'd tell me, I might be able to help. It's not my favorite conversation, but it is one nonetheless!"

Harry considered this for a moment. Phineas was after all, in his time a Hogwarts headmaster. It was safe to assume that he had some knowledge and had perhaps gained more as a portrait from living in the headmaster's office for centuries.

"What do you know about souls?" Harry asked.

"So you mind facing me or should we continue our chat this way?"

"Fine!" Harry waved his wand and made his portrait hover in the air in front of him.

"Oh that's better..." He stretched dramatically.

"Well?"

"I know many things about souls boy, being one of the very few wizards who studied it in my time!"

"You did?"

"Yes! In fact in my time, souls were taught at Hogwarts!"

"What?"

"Pity how the ministry limited magical knowledge to hovering charms eventually!"

Harry understood the sarcasm and nodded. He then sat his portrait down on a chair and pulled it forwards so they faced each other.

"You are sharper than I thought!"

"So how do you start?"

"How do you start with soul magic? Well you don't. In the old days, real soul magic took ages to master... And the masters ... Let's say to learn this you'd pay with your soul!"

"What do you mean?"

"A master of soul magic would feed upon the souls of his disciples. And in turn taught them the ways."

He continued after seeing the look of utmost disgust on Harry's face.

"It is not as you think. A master did not feed on the soul of a pupil like a dementor does. In fact, it was essential, because the pupil's soul was not strong enough to contribute to the magic or the ritual. The master had to take control of that. It did not maim their souls. At least, good masters did not maim the souls of their pupils."

"Wouldn't it make them weaker?"

"Oh yes, it did make their souls weaker, slightly, but by the time they became masters they would have had ample opportunities to feed on the souls of their own pupils. Young boys were preferable. Girls were almost forbidden to study soul magic, except for some rare exceptions."

"I don't think I like soul magic, Its disgusting!"

"Understandable, but there is a way to everything and that's how soul magic works, or rather how the circles that exercised soul magic worked."

"Why didn't girls have the permission to study soul magic?"

"Female souls are stronger in nature. A witch with immense soul power can be very troublesome... Very troublesome indeed! And they gain power much faster than boys which made them not a suitable candidate for prolonged feeding. Some females were hand picked to study certain areas of soul magic, or to serve as a priestess in certain rituals, but they were scarce."

"Priestess? Like in a cult?" 

"You could say that. Soul magic was oft practiced in secret. What was taught at Hogwarts was theory, and the very basics. The real practice was in secret." Explain Phineas. "Soul magic is not for the faint of heart. Even though, all aspects of soul feeding were banned at Hogwarts, many students dropped out of the class, due to feeling ill, or weak."

"What is this feeding? I think I'll be sick if I hear it again!" Harry asked, disgusted.

"I already told you... it's not what you think it is. There are many properties to souls, 90% of which are still unknown to us. In short there is a certain purity in untainted and untarnished souls that can be harvested by a master to grow their own."

"What exactly is an untainted and untarnished soul?"

"A soul that has neither known death nor love!"

"Right!"

"Now what do you need to confirm?"

"I... You know about Voldemort's unintentional Horcrux?"

"Yes I know about _you_!" Phineas smirked.

"Well... I need to make sure my soul is whole!"

"Why?"

"What do you mean why? That is the question there is no _why_!"

"Well don't wallow in self-pity just yet, I mean why do you think your soul is not whole? There are many rituals that attempt to determine the quality of a soul. Masters of course needed to make sure they're getting good souls in exchange for their teachings but, since you are not pure, you need to elaborate!"

"I don't wallow in self-pity!" Said Harry angrily.

"Fine!" Said Phineas carelessly.

"Speak like that again and I swear I'll burn your portrait!" Harry threatened with his wand pointing at Phineas. There was no reason why he should tolerate such sarcasm in his own house. Phineas considered him for a long moment, playing with his pointy beard.

"There would be no need for such crude methods. I already told you that I want to help!" He finally said.

"What do you mean I'm not pure?" Harry asked abruptly.

"You are not! You have known death, and I dare say you have known love! The red haired girl... What was her name?"

"Never mind that now!"

"... On top of that your soul has lived next to an immensely evil soul for... How old are you?"

"Almost 18!"

"There you go!"

"Thanks for nothing!" Harry said bitterly.

There was a long pause in which Harry fidgeted with the binding of the ancient book he was holding.

"Is that all then? Shall I put you back?"

Phineas squinted, as if trying to measure him, or convince himself to reveal something,  and it seemed with great difficulty that he said,

"There are three of you I take it?"

"Why does that matter?"

"The muggle-born girl and the red hair boy."

"There is no one here, only I, and I would've thought that having seen centuries of the wizarding world, even if half of that was through this frame, you'd have learned that such prejudices are what is wrong with this world!" Harry said angrily staring into the two-dimensional face of Phineas Nigellus.

"I am not prejudiced, I merely have a hard time remembering names!"

"Yea right!"

Harry made a move to pick up the portrait and put it back on the shelf when Phineas said, rather hastily "There is a spell!"

"What spell?"

"A spell to survey the soul. Its more of a ritual really and It's hard to pull of, and it needs a girl, you have a girl here so that is not the hardest part!"

"What do you mean 'it needs a girl'! And I don't 'have' any girl!"

"It's not like that boy, look for the trinity charm, and you'll find the book!"

"Can't you just tell me the name of the book? There are millions of books on charms!"

"I told you, I don't remember names very well, plus there is a spell, I thought you knew it, its 'invenio' and then the name of what you want to find, it works in most situations."

Harry pointed his wand at the shelves behind him and said "invenio trinity charm". Several books vibrated behind him but nothing else happened, Harry turned to Phineas.

"How you overcame the strongest dark lord in all of history is beyond me Potter! Don't they teach you anything in that school? You must state exactly what you want in a charm like this. You want to find some words in some books, So the complete charm would be 'invendo verbum trinity in libro'"

"How was I supposed to guess that?" Snapped harry irritated.

"Students studied Latin in my time!" Retorted Phineas with an eye roll.

Harry ignored him and performed the charm. Several books slid forward on their shelves until their bindings jutted out, easy to spot. He summoned them, and they flew across the room, landing in a neat pile on the drawer beside his seat.

"Now tap each book and say 'ostendo' to find where the 'verbum' you asked for, appears in the book." He paused to smirk. "You haven't been researching magical books like muggles have you?"

"Hermione would love these charms!" Harry muttered.

"Now read and if you fail to grasp something as I'm sure you will, ask Hermione!" Smirked Phineas again "See... I'm not prejudiced!"

"Clearly." replied Harry, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Then, pointing his wand at a disheveled quill, he transformed it into a nail, magically drove it into the wall behind him, and hung Phineas Nigellus's portrait on it.

"I do appreciate it!" Said Phineas half-heartedly.