"Ah, perhaps it's best not to mention that name."
Professor Slughorn's expression instantly became unnatural.
"We've discovered that he is returning—"
Sean said bluntly. He saw Slughorn's hands, clasped behind his back, tremble slightly.
"If possible, Headmaster Dumbledore and I hope to learn some information from you."
"Information? I already gave it to him, didn't I? I have research to do tonight, my boy. I think it's time I left."
Professor Slughorn turned aside.
"The more you try to avoid something, the more you run straight into destiny halfway down the road, Professor. Headmaster Dumbledore has left. He is going to complete a dangerous mission—he was unwilling to force you, but he has always hoped you would be brave."
Sean said. His cheeks had flushed slightly.
"Enough!"
Professor Slughorn suddenly cried, raising a trembling hand.
"Truly, my dear boy, enough—I am an old man—I don't need to hear this—I don't want to hear this—"
"It would help us greatly. What they are about to do is very dangerous—"
Sean's eyelids lowered slightly, and his lips pressed tightly together.
Sean did not need to guess where Headmaster Dumbledore had gone. Although Dumbledore was the only person Voldemort feared, with Dumbledore's present open-hearted state, perhaps he even looked forward to going to the world beyond the Veil.
A wizard in that state was powerful and fearless. If he fell into Voldemort's trap again, Sean felt it would not be impossible.
Let alone Mr. Lupin and Mr. Sirius. What they were facing was the most powerful Dark wizard in history.
"Don't say that."
Professor Slughorn seemed to have only just learned this news. He stared at Sean for a while, then whispered,
"If it can help Albus—of course there's no problem—but that thing is useless—"
"We have already destroyed five Horcruxes. Knowing this is very important to us."
Sean had spoken far more today than usual.
"What brilliant work you've done—"
Professor Slughorn looked at the young wizard in shock, tears filling his eyes.
"All by yourselves? My boy, you must have fought him many dangerous times."
"Yes, Professor."
Sean was silent for a while, but did not deny it.
Justin and Hermione, hiding to the side, were as stunned as Professor Slughorn.
They had not expected to hear such astonishing news.
Sean and Headmaster Dumbledore had secretly destroyed five Horcruxes.
Thinking of it that way, Dumbledore choosing Sean as the next Headmaster became far easier to understand.
No one was more trustworthy than a comrade-in-arms who had fought beside you.
And thinking of it that way, Justin and Hermione felt Sean was even farther away from them.
He was clearly right there, yet it was as if something hazy separated them, as if they were two people on parallel lines gazing at each other.
"I—"
Professor Slughorn had clearly fallen into inner conflict.
"I know, Professor. I know how much courage it takes to admit one's mistakes. But I only want to tell you that many people are working and fighting to destroy evil completely. They do not all possess powerful magic, but they certainly possess noble courage."
Sean spoke seriously. Professor Slughorn did not quite dare meet his eyes.
"You are a wizard with that kind of courage. Headmaster Dumbledore and I both believe so. You simply do not know it yourself yet."
Professor Slughorn covered his face, tears seeping through his fingers.
Slowly, he raised his fat hand and pressed his trembling fingers to his mouth. For a moment, he looked like an enormous infant.
"I felt ashamed—"
he murmured through his fingers.
"I was ashamed of what that memory showed. I thought I might have done great harm that day—"
"Everyone makes mistakes. Whether one is willing to make amends is what separates the brave from the cowardly."
Sean said softly.
At last, Professor Slughorn very, very slowly reached into his pocket and drew out his wand. With his other hand, he took a tiny empty bottle from his cloak.
He was still staring into Sean's eyes as he pressed the tip of his wand to his temple, then drew it away.
A long, silvery thread of memory came with the wand tip.
It stretched longer and longer until it finally snapped, glittering silver as it drifted on the tip of the wand. Professor Slughorn placed it into the bottle. The silver thread curled up, then unfurled, swirling like gas.
With trembling hands, he sealed the bottle tightly and handed it across the table to Sean.
"Will I be a brave man?"
he asked quietly.
"When the great wind blows, all the grass will know."
Sean bowed deeply.
"Thank you very much, Professor."
"You are a good child."
Professor Slughorn said, tears sliding down his plump cheeks and into his walrus mustache.
"You have far more courage than I do—"
Sean had obtained the crucial memory, but he did not show much happiness.
He quietly said goodbye to Professor Slughorn, quietly returned to the cottage, and quietly took out the Pensieve.
The road ahead was long. They still had many things to do.
Fortunately, they could finally see the end.
From the crack in the door, two heads grew out one after the other.
Justin and Hermione had hurried over, pressing themselves against the doorframe. They could still hear their own unsettled heartbeats.
Outside the door, the young wizards were playing wildly, enjoying the final stretch of the holiday. The clatter of wizard chess, the rustle of fingers sweeping over magic hand mirrors, and the students' cries of surprise rang through the corridor in uneven waves.
Inside the door, Sean had already sunk into the Pensieve.
Once again, he fell through darkness and landed in Professor Slughorn's office from many years ago.
It was still the much younger Professor Slughorn, with thick, glossy straw-yellow hair and a small ginger mustache. He sat in a comfortable wing-backed armchair, his feet resting on a large velvet cushion, holding a small glass of wine in one hand while the other picked through a box of crystallized pineapple.
Six or seven teenage boys sat around Professor Slughorn. Among them was Tom Riddle.
When Sean fell into the memory, Riddle was asking,
"Sir, is Professor Merrythought retiring?"
"Tom, Tom, even if I knew, I couldn't tell you."
Professor Slughorn reprovingly shook a sugar-frosted finger at him, but then winked.
"I must say, I'd like to know where you get your information, my boy. You know more than half the staff."
Riddle smiled faintly. The other boys laughed too, casting admiring looks at him.
"You clever little devil, knowing things you shouldn't, and so careful to flatter important people. By the way, thank you for the pineapple. You guessed right. It is my favorite—"
Several boys snickered.
"I believe you'll be Minister for Magic within twenty years. Perhaps only fifteen if you keep sending me crystallized pineapple. I have very strong connections in the Ministry."
The other boys laughed again, while Tom Riddle only smiled slightly.
"I don't know whether politics would suit me, sir."
Tom Riddle said after the laughter faded.
"For one thing, I don't have a background."
Two boys beside him exchanged smiles.
"Nonsense."
Professor Slughorn said heartily.
"With talents like yours, you must come from a respectable wizarding family. That much is obvious. You have an unlimited future, Tom. I have never misjudged a student yet."
The little golden clock on Professor Slughorn's desk struck eleven.
"Good heavens, is that the time already? Off you go, boys, or we'll be in trouble. Lestrange, your essay tomorrow, or detention. You too, Avery."
The boys filed out. Professor Slughorn climbed out of his chair and carried his empty glass to the desk.
A sound behind him made him turn back. Riddle was still standing there.
Sean knew the critical moment had arrived. He stared at Riddle without blinking.
Some white mist once again drifted out from the Void Talisman.
This time, Sean noticed it.
But before he could examine it closely, the voice that sounded again interrupted him.
"Quickly, Tom. You don't want to be caught out after lights-out, do you? You are a prefect—"
"Sir, I wanted to ask you something."
"Then ask quickly, my boy, quickly—"
"Sir, I wanted to ask whether you know about—Horcruxes."
Professor Slughorn stared at him, his fat fingers absentmindedly stroking the stem of his glass.
"A Defense Against the Dark Arts topic, is it?"
But Sean could tell that Professor Slughorn knew perfectly well this was not schoolwork.
"No, sir. I saw it in a book and didn't quite understand it."
"Mm—yes—it would be difficult to find a book at Hogwarts that explains Horcruxes in detail, Tom. They are very evil things. Very evil."
Professor Slughorn said.
"But you clearly know about them, sir? I mean, a wizard like you—sorry, what I mean is, if you can't tell me, then obviously—I only know that if anyone could tell me, it would be you. So I thought I would ask."
Perfectly judged. That hesitant, casual tone, the clever compliment—not overdone at all.
"Mm."
Professor Slughorn said. He did not look at Riddle, instead fiddling with the ribbon on the box of crystallized pineapple.
"Of course, there's no harm in giving you a brief explanation, just so you understand the term. A Horcrux refers to an object that contains a part of a person's soul."
"But I don't quite understand how that works, sir."
Riddle said.
His voice was carefully controlled, but it could not fully suppress his excitement.
"It means that you split your soul,"
Professor Slughorn said,
"and hide a part of it in an object outside your body. That way, even if your body is attacked or destroyed, you will not die, because a part of your soul remains in the world, unharmed. But of course, to exist in such a form—"
Professor Slughorn's face wrinkled.
"—few people would want that, Tom. Very few. Death would be cleaner."
But Riddle's hunger was obvious now. His expression was greedy, and he could no longer hide his desire.
"How does one split the soul?"
"Oh,"
Professor Slughorn said uneasily.
"You must understand that the soul is meant to remain whole and intact. Splitting it is a violation. It is unnatural."
"But how is it split?"
"Through an evil act—the most evil act. Through murder. Killing splits the soul, and the wizard who wants to create a Horcrux uses that damage: sealing the broken-off fragment of soul—"
"Sealing? But how—?"
"There is a spell. Don't ask me. I don't know!"
Professor Slughorn shook his head like an old elephant bothered by mosquitoes.
"Do I look as though I have tried it? Do I look like a murderer?"
"No, sir, of course not."
Riddle hurriedly said.
"I'm sorry—I didn't mean to offend—"
"No, no, no offense."
Professor Slughorn said gruffly.
"It's normal to be a little curious about such things. Talented wizards are always drawn to that side of magic—"
"Yes, sir."
Riddle said.
"But what I don't understand is—purely out of curiosity—what I want to ask is, is one Horcrux very useful? Can the soul only be split once? Would splitting it into more pieces be better, make you stronger? For example, isn't seven the most magically powerful number? Seven—?"
"My good gracious, Tom!"
Professor Slughorn cried.
"Seven! Isn't wanting to murder one person evil enough? In any case—splitting the soul is already evil enough—and splitting it into seven—"
Sean stared at Voldemort's expression. He suspected he would have to watch this memory again and again.
Only by knowing exactly how many Horcruxes Voldemort had created would the road ahead become clearer.
At that moment, the white mist drifted out once more.
It lightly settled over Sean's head, then wrapped around his eyes.
Sean was somewhat astonished to discover that the world seemed clearer now. Certain physical things—chairs, crystallized pineapple, the wooden desk—had all vanished.
Only two blurry wizardly figures remained in the room.
What he was seeing now was a wizard's soul.
This guess surfaced in Sean's mind on its own.
A wizard's form was blurry because the soul itself was drifting and indistinct. And the parts that composed a wizard's soul were wisdom and emotion.
At this moment, Sean could not see any wisdom at all. He could only see a fiery red color, like obsession.
It surged from Riddle's body, and anyone would know that this fiery red could not fade.
He would definitely create seven Horcruxes.
That sentence surfaced in Sean's mind.
When Sean came back to himself, he had already fallen out of the memory.
With his feet on solid ground again, Sean felt dazed.
When he tried to search for that mist again, he could no longer find it.
"Strange. Is it because the Void Talisman cracked…?"
Sean thought. The sky had gradually darkened.
He felt a deep drowsiness, and his head was dizzy.
And so he saw eight-headed Justin swaying in front of him again.
Along with Hermione, who had six hands.