Harry set the Hufflepuff Cup on the ground between them, keeping his wand trained on it.
"So how do we destroy this thing?"
Victor looked down at it. "That's the problem with Horcruxes. You can't just smash them or burn them. They have to be damaged in a way that magical repair can't fix."
Hermione looked at him thoughtfully. "I've been meaning to ask you something. Why is a Horcrux considered a Dark object?"
Victor's expression turned serious. "Because the process of making one begins with murder."
Harry and Hermione stared at him. "Murder?"
"Yes. Murder tears the soul apart. The wizard uses that damaged state to conceal a fragment of the soul inside an object."
Hermione's face tightened. "That's horrible."
"That's why Horcruxes are some of the darkest magic there is. The murder isn't a side effect. It's what allows the soul to be split."
Harry looked down at the Cup. "So Voldemort deliberately did this?"
"Yes."
"And every time he made one, he had to kill someone?" Hermione asked.
"That's what the magic requires."
She looked at the ruined Cup, then back at him. "So how many did he make?"
"Six."
Harry's expression changed. "Then unless we destroy all six, Voldemort can't be killed?"
"Not permanently."
Hermione was quiet a moment, but she'd clearly been waiting for this.
"But how do you know all this? The entire wizarding world barely knows anything about Horcruxes, yet you know exactly how they're made, how many Voldemort created, where some of them are. You always seem to know when something's about to happen."
Harry looked between them — the question had occurred to him too, even if he'd never asked it. "She's right. You've been acting like you knew things were going to happen before they did."
Victor had known this was coming. He'd prepared the answer months ago, because he couldn't tell them the truth. "I'm a Seer."
Hermione's eyebrows rose. "Like Professor Trelawney?"
"No. Not like her. I don't get vague predictions or strange visions. I can actually see things that haven't happened yet."
"You can see the future?"
"Sometimes," Victor said, keeping his expression steady. "That's how I know what I know."
Hermione studied him, clearly trying to decide whether to believe him. "Then all those times you knew something was going to happen..."
"That was me seeing it beforehand."
Harry looked thoughtful. "That actually explains a lot."
Victor nodded, hiding the lie behind a calm expression. "Yes."
Hermione kept staring, unconvinced, arms folded — the same look she gave anyone she knew was leaving something out. "So there's nothing else you haven't told us?"
"Nothing," Victor said, too quickly.
She raised an eyebrow. He knew that look — less a student questioning a classmate, more a wife who'd just learned her husband had been keeping secrets for months.
"Victor," she said patiently, "you've known about Horcruxes, you knew where this one was, and you've somehow managed to prepare for things before they happened. I think it's safe to say there's quite a lot you're not telling us."
He gave her an innocent look. "There are a few things."
"How many is a few?"
"Enough that we'd be here until morning if I started explaining."
Harry glanced between them. "Can we deal with the Cup first?"
"Yes," Victor said. "I know how to destroy it."
He reached inside his robes, searching the pocket where he was certain he'd put the Basilisk fang.
Nothing. He checked another pocket. Still nothing. He checked the inside of his robes, then the other side, growing more confused.
Hermione watched him. "What are you doing?"
"Looking for the fang that can destroy the Horcrux."
"You lost it?" Harry asked.
"I haven't lost it. I've temporarily misplaced it."
Hermione sighed. "That's a very complicated way of saying you've lost it."
Victor looked at the Cup, then at the dark forest around them. "I have another plan."
"What are you going to do?"
"Both of you, step back."
They moved away, watching him carefully. He raised his wand and aimed it at the golden vessel.
"Fiendfyre."
Cursed fire exploded from his wand, twisting across the ground before surging around the Cup, taking the shape of great serpents, heat forcing Harry and Hermione back another step.
The Cup began to crack. Black smoke burst from it.
Harry staggered.
"Harry?" Hermione grabbed his arm.
His face had gone pale, eyes widening like he was seeing something the others couldn't.
"He's here..."
"Who?"
His breathing turned uneven. "Voldemort."
The smoke twisted above the burning Cup, and Harry's eyes stayed fixed on something in front of him — Voldemort, standing in the darkness, eyes locked on his.
"Harry!" Hermione shook his shoulder. "Harry, look at me!"
He didn't respond.
"You destroyed another piece of me, Potter."
Harry's knees buckled, the strength leaving his body. Hermione caught him before he hit the ground.
"Harry!"
Victor kept the Fiendfyre under control, watching him. "Harry, stay with us."
Harry's eyes stayed open, but he was barely conscious. Voldemort's voice kept going in his head.
"You think this can save you?"
Harry's lips barely moved. "I... won't..."
His eyes rolled up, and he went limp in Hermione's arms.
"Harry!"
She lowered him to the ground. "Victor, something's wrong!"
He snapped his attention to Harry. The black smoke pouring from the Cup twisted violently, then scattered into the night as the golden vessel finally split apart.
The connection was gone.
Victor extinguished the Fiendfyre and hurried over. "He's unconscious."
Hermione checked Harry's breathing. "He's alive."
*****
A/N : 🔥 On Patreon🔥
⚡ A 15-chapter early access is available for those who want to read ahead ⚡
👉 patreon.com/JakeA30