Horcrux - Tumblr Posts
whyy does the part of voldemort in harry look like kimchi
Little Witch Tom Riddle x Malfoy Reader
Hello readers! So, had an idea in the dead of night and wrote this chapter for this potential story and I need some feedback. Do you like it? Would you like to see more of this? Please tell me because I would love to write more of this, but I don't know if anyone would want to read something like this. Also, the title is not its official and final title. If you guys enjoy this idea, the title will be something completely different from Little Witch.
Hope you enjoy this random thing of mine.
The smell of moisture and mildew clouded my senses. I could feel the tendrils of the musty basement curl around my head, tightening their hold. The familiar throbbing ran down my head and face, causing me to wince and squeeze my eyes, trying to work through the pain. I’ve always hated coming down here. This underground layer underneath my home always made my spine shiver and made gooseflesh appear on my delicate skin. This place, full of death and sorrow from previous victims throughout the history of my family, haunted these walls. In the dead of night, I could hear their wails and shrieks of terror. I could hear their weeping and their cries for help. Hear their pleas to a higher power and bargain with their soul, trying to escape this prison. But their prayers and pleas went unanswered. Day in and day out, they were still here. Stuck. Tethered to these bloody walls.
Knowing that these souls occupied these walls and halls was one reason I avoided this place. But something was calling me. Whispering my name. Urging me to come down here, to explore. To search for it. I’d tried to ignore the call, the whisper, but each night it grew louder and louder. Finally, after a nightmare of snakes strangling me in my sleep, I allowed the voice to take control and call to me. I followed the voice, down the corridors, passing portraits, the sleeping quarters of the house-elves, all the way down the stairs that led here. Unlike the dungeons that were kept clean and lit, the basement, underneath the dungeons, was dark, dirty, and had a metallic smell. Here, I could feel the voice calling louder, urging me more quickly, practically pushing me forward, moving my stone-cold feet towards a chest. An ebony chest, decorated in silver and bore the Malfoy family crest. On the lip of the lid wrote a name: Abraxas M. Malfoy.
This was my grandfather’s chest. My recently deceased grandfather.
Now, this close to the chest, I could feel magic electrifying in the air, crackling with energy. The voice, now clearer and deeper, called out my name. I felt an invisible hand take my own and place it on the chest. Magic pulsed and cracked throughout the house, passing through my fingertips, travelling up my body, tingling my nervous system. Power gushed through my veins; an echo of spells in Latin, French, and German rang through my head. I felt a pull in my abdomen, as if something was trying to reach through my body and pull out my magical core; rending me magickless. I tried to fight it, combating it with my own power, using ancient spells and curses passed down through my family, trying to ward off the entity. However, my attempts became futile. Whatever this spirit—voice—was, it knew how to avoid and get past my family's magic, delving itself into the pits of my mind, reaching into the darkest parts, seeing memories I’d wish to avoid.
Memories of a man with red eyes and cold skin.
I felt my brain being torn in two when my throat convulsed. I screamed loudly. I felt a whoosh of power flow from me as I screamed. I felt the chilling laughter of a monster crawling up my skin, piercing my soft and supple flesh, drawing blood. Ruby drops coated the floor, soaking a carpet and dripping onto my feet.
The lid of the chest flew open, the lock breaking, and a sense of dread curled in the pit of my stomach. Still under the control of whatever this spirit was, I felt myself lean and bend, reaching my hand into the chest and grabbing a small black book. A name was etched into the leather cover, written in gold lettering. When my fingertips connected with the cover, I felt a pulse of dark magick flow through my fingers, numbing them.
I ran my index finger down the leather cover, tingling with power, as I traced the name. Names were power. Though some people disagreed, the old ways were proof of that sentiment. Names held power over someone. You knew their true name, the name their soul carried, you held power over them. And this name, I knew, even in my drunken and controlled state, that this name held power I couldn’t even imagine. That this name was dangerous. And if I uttered it, it would seal my fate.
“(Y/n)!!”
The voice of my father reached my ears, making me blink a few times, as my vision became blurred. I felt my body becoming numb and buckled under my weight.
“(Y/n)!!” Father’s arms wrapped around me and I felt my body become weightless. Light. As if I was a feather.
“Sweet girl, what happened? What’ve I told you about coming down here? It’s dangerous!”
I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t feel. All I could do was blink and stare at my father; his grey eyes trained on my figure as he assessed the situation and damage. His hair was tied back in a bow, keeping his strands of silver out of his eyes. He wasn’t wearing pyjamas. He was still in his clothes from earlier. His cloak, his three-piece suit, his dragon-hide wingback shoes.
He was still awake then; I mused.
“(Y/n), look at me, tell me what happened.”
I tried. I really did. But I couldn’t. I felt my body and mind slip in and out of consciousness. All I could do was grip the book tighter. He noticed. His grey eyes travelled to my hand, where I clutched the book for dear life. As if it was a part of my soul. A part of me.
A gasp left my father, his eyes widening as he took into the leather cover. His eyes flashed back and forth.
To me; to the book. To me; to the book.
Over and over and over. Until he finally gained the strength and re-established his mind.
“Come (Y/n),” Father picks me up in his arms. I feel the book drop from my hands. It slapped against the cold stone floors. It’s voice called out to me again. I wanted to hold it, clutch it close to my heart, weep over the pages. But I can do nothing about it. I was motionless. Paralyzed. My strength was all but gone. The fight for control and the will of my magick took its toll on me. I could no longer feel.
As father carried me away from the basement full of death, my vision was blurry and I could only hear distorted voices. It was as if I was hearing things on another frequency. As if I reached another plane of this universe. The only voice I could hear clearly was the whisper.
“Come to me,”
“Free me from this cage,”
“Come to me, (Y/n),”
“Come…”
The last thing I heard was a man whispering in another language, a language I knew and understood, yet I could not understand.
In the dark basement of Malfoy Manor, while house-elves and the Lady of the house took care of the heiress Malfoy, trying to break her fever and console her shaking and convulsing body—a man walked down the long spiral staircase leading down towards the damp basement. He held his wand in front of him; it was lit with the simple lumos spell, as he travelled down to the haunted walls.
His eyes were set in an icy determination, the same look he had about him when he was intending to see things done properly—his way. His brows were furrowed and his pointy chin was jutted out. The surrounding air crackled as his own magical core expanded, covering his person in protection spells.
For years, that blasted diary was quiet. It slept peacefully, only to be awakened when it was time for his master to see the light of day. It appears, when the cursed pages woke, it stirred something in his eldest child, his daughter. Called out to her, hypnotising her. She was its victim, wanting her to take the book and pour her soul into its cursed ink so that his Master might live again. His Dark Lord’s plan was planned out so very well, its cursed nature, its spiritus malus enchanted his daughter. While Lucius was angry and wanted to incendio the cursed book to nothing more than a pile of ash —- it was his master's orders to answer the call, and Lucius was a devoted servant of his Lord.
He walked down the long corridor, towards the chest. Lucius bent down and picked up the book, feeling its magick course through his veins. He suppressed a shiver from running down his spine, and turned on the balls of his feet, clouding himself in shadow as he marched his way down the corridor, up the stairs, and into his private office.
Sitting the book on his mahogany desk, he took a seat in his leather winged-back chair and stared at it. He could hear the whispers of the curse, trying to seduce him, place him under the spell.
Lucius didn’t know what to do. He ran through his memories, looking for one of his Dark Lord. He shifted through his categorised mind, tearing down the walls and boarded up doors of his mind. He sorted and searched until he found it.
It was after his daughter’s first birthday. October 31st, 1976. She had just received her soul-mark—something the Malfoy family has always had; the magick of soulmates. It was also after the Dark Lord appointed him as his Second-in-Command. He remembered how thrilled he was, earning the approval of his Lord, and rising in the ranks of Death Eaters. It was a glorious moment for him and his family. Lucius remembered how, after the small gathering they had for his daughter, the Dark Lord stayed around, claiming to speak to him about an urgent matter at hand. But what he didn’t notice back then, in the present, of his Master’s eyes on his child’s soul-mark embedded in the skin of her right wrist. It was strange, Lucius remembered himself saying. A snake wrapping its body around the child's wrist, eating its tail. The mark was nothing like his own mark with Narcissa; a flower with a snake coiled around its stem. His mark was calm and held an aura of serenity. While hers was violent, untamed, out-of-control. There was no softness, only a cold exterior of a snake eating itself.
Lucius remembered when he was a child asking his own father about the nature of their soul-marks. As to why snakes were always included in their depiction of the other half of their soul. Abraxas didn’t know, but claimed there was a snake involved in the ritual to tether the souls of mates together, to show, to embed a mark on the skin, showing the world the superiority of Malfoy’s and their magic.
While many of the guests stared at her wrist with curiosity and fascination, his master’s eyes were full of something Lucius could not place. When Cygnus and Druella approached their granddaughter and daughter, they gave gifts and encouraging words to Narcissa. However, Cygnus looked at his granddaughter with disappointment, wishing his loyal and obedient daughter had given birth to a son first, rather than a daughter. When the man's cold eyes flickered to her little wrist, he reached out and touched it, tracing the mark. Something snapped in his master’s exterior, and the mask of calm and connectedness broke and a sliver of emotion passed through his facade. His red eyes flashed angrily, and his hands clenched into fists.
Before his Lord could make a scene, Lucius approached him, asking him about what matter he needed to speak of urgently. The two left the scene, walking down the long dark-lit corridors, passing sleeping and awake portraits. Lucius pushed the door open to his study, letting the light of the fireplace cast a glow to the porcelain man beside him. His grey eyes watched as the Dark Lord took a seat, pulling something out from his cloak. Lucius turned, closed and locked the door, and strode across the threshold to his master.
“Lucius,” his Master’s voice, was icy, filled with nothing but cold, bitter ice. “This is what I wished to discuss with you.” He placed a book on the mahogany desk occupying this room. Whispers filled the room. Lucius shivered as his magick core sensed the dark magic, the death, surrounding this book.
“What is it, my Lord?” he asked, the hairs on his neck standing up, attentive to the magic in this room. His Master smiled. His smile reminded him of a snake before striking.
“This, my friend, is my old school diary. It is now a cursed object.” He picked up the book, flipping the pages as he spoke. “It contains my younger self. Preserved in these pages.” The book screamed a silent scream.
“I want you to hide it. Once the book awakens, I want you to give it to someone. Magic or non-magic, I care not who it is. Give it to them, and they shall write in it, for the pull of this diary is too strong for anyone to resist. As they write, my younger self will suck their life-force; their core. And once my younger-self has done it, they shall be reborn again.”
Lucius stared in astonishment. “But my lord, you are already here. Alive.”
His Master smirked. “I have no doubts, Lucius, that I shall succeed. But if there is a slight chance. A slight possibility that the old fool beats me, well, then you will know what to do with it.”
Lucius watched as he ran a finger down the spine, watching the book itself shudder.
“This is only a precaution. I know I will have no need for it.”
Voldemort stood from his chair. His eyes, red as blood, gazed into Lucius’ grey orbs.
“Do you understand, Lucius?” he asked. Lucius knew that tone. He’d seen it in action when Death Eaters failed their mission or when he interrogated wizards, witches, and mudbloods.
“Yes, My Lord,”
A chilling smile spread across his face.
Lucius knew what to do. He sighed, laced his fingers together, and sat in deep thought. Thinking up a plan. A plan to resurrect his master's soul. He knew, deep in his soul, that if he was the one to resurrect his Master, he would be welcomed back joyously. His comrades would praise him, his master would thank him.
And if what his master said was true, this new form would be young. No one would know him. He could fit in the ranks of the Ministry, infiltrate it from the inside. Corrupt the Wizengomat. His Master would do wondrous things for the good of the Wizarding World. Purify the scum of their world, and lay waste to the blood traitors.
The glory days would return, and his youngest would live in a world full of wizards and witches like him.
Lucius smiled. Yes, it’ll all work out. All he needs to do is find a mind curious enough to write in the pages of a diary and who’s ignorant enough to believe that this book means no harm.
While this was happening, the young Malfoy Heiress thrashed in her sleep. House-elves tried to calm her, but she continued to convulse. In her fevered dreams, stood a man standing on a hilltop. His eyes were a deep shade of black, almost like he held the starless night sky in his orbs. His skin was pale, blemishless, and pure. Pure as snow. Hard as marble. His sharp nose, his full lips, his arched brows. Everything about him was beautiful. As if he was cut from marble, shaped by elegant and artistic hands. Details you’d seen in statues at muggle museums. His hair was onyx, tousled like he ran his long and articulate fingers through the strands regularly. He stood tall. His back was straight. He looked angelic. But there was something dark around him. Shadows surrounded him. Clouding his body in a dark mist. His face distorted, the skin on his jaw pulled back, revealing bone and rotten flesh. The hill was no longer a grassy hilltop, but a hill of bones; skulls. He stood on them, as if he was a King. His face was slacked in determination and his eyes were hard. He was the victor of a battle, of a war. He no longer held an angelic look, but a demonic aura, full of darkness and evil. Yet his face, though rotting and had parts revealing bone, was the only place on his body that still looked angelic.
It was hard to look at him; she thought. He’s beautiful, was another thought of hers. It was as if her own mind was being torn in two, her thoughts constantly contraindicated each other. She didn’t know why. Why was she still looking at this beautiful monster? Why didn’t she run? Why was he calling her over?
“Who are you?” She called out to him. The man smirked, exposing the right side of his mouth, rotting. She shivered.
“Who are you?” She called out again, her voice trembled. “Death?”
The man chuckled, his voice booming all around her. As if she was in an echo chamber. She felt his laugh in her skull, rattling her bones.
“Sometimes.” He answered, smirking at the young Heiress. “But not today… little witch,”
The next thing she knew was that she was ripped from her dream in a cold sweat. But what she would later learn is that she could not remember the dream, nor the man, only the words: “Little witch,”
Translations:
spiritus malus = evil spirit (I used google translate for this, sorrry if I'm wrong)
Secrets of the Darkest Art: How to Make a Horcrux
So I saw many theories regarding how to make a Horcrux, but none of them really made perfect sense to me, so I decided to give it a crack myself as part of my mission to understand Lord Voldemort/Tom Marvolo Riddle (Which I think I did, big post coming about that at some point, this is but another piece of that puzzle of a man)
So this is my reverse engineering of a ritual to create Horcruxes based on book evidence, my knowledge of real-world alchemy, real-world ancient Greek cults and rituals and linguistic analysis.
How to reverse engineering a dark magical ritual:
The first thing is to define what we know for certain:
The name: "Horcrux"
The creator is an Ancient Greek wizard named Harpo the Foul.
A death is required in the making.
A Horcrux holds a piece of the caster's soul that anchors them to life so they won't die.
I'll actually start with the third point.
How to split a soul?
Both Dumbledore and Slughorn mention murder being required to tear your soul to make a Horcrux, and that never really sat right with me. It magically doesn't make sense and even the canon examples we have for Horcrux murders make this statement iffy.
We have seven examples of murders used to create Horcruxs (thanks to one Tom Riddle being dramatic):
The Diary - Myrtle Warren - killed by a basilisk. Sure, Tom freed the Basilisk, but it hardly seemed targeted at Myrtle specifically and you can argue he didn't actually kill her (more a manslaughter by negligence). He didn't cast the spell, so how come this tore his soul? (I also think Myrtle was an accident and wasn't meant to be killed, but I digress)
The Ring - his father (Tom Riddle Sr) - Avada Kadevra.
The Cup - Hepzibah Smith - she was poisoned by her house elf. Sure, the elf was under the imperious, but it wasn't a first-degree murder, and like with the Basilisk I find it hard to consider this the same as casting a killing curse. Magically those are very different things.
The Locket - Muggle Tramp - Avada Kadevra
The Diadem - Albanian Peasant - Avada Kadevra
Harry Potter - himself - backfired Avada Kadevra
Nagini - Bertha Jorkins - Avada Kadevra
Now, I used the term "magically different" or "magically make sense" what do I mean by that?
Well, besides the fact I'm going to make a full post about how I see magical theory in the Harry Potter Wizarding World, I'll say it takes a lot after occult philosophies from Alchemy that are very old, Slughorn mentions as much in book 6 and there are a few other references to it. I'm just gonna cover the basics required for this theory.
In Alchemy, everything (people, animals, plants, and rocks) is built of three base components:
The Salt - the body - the physical form.
The Sulfur - the soul - the self that holds the divine flame.
The Mercury - the spirit - the life essence that binds the salt and sulfur together.
Now, in Alchemy, the main study is in purifying and combining these different aspects of material. Let's look at a herb, for an example:
If we want to retrieve its salt, we'll dry the herb completely using fire to leave behind a fine light grey ash that represents only the physical form.
If we wanted its mercury we'd distill all liquids from it until we get a purified, clear liquid which in the case of plants would be alcohol (it's why alcohol is referred to as "spirit").
And if we wanted its soul, we would take the remains from the distillation and drying process which would be a kind of oil.
(it can get more complicated with different materials, but this isn't a post about Alchemy)
Now, back to Horcruxs.
So, if we would want to split a soul, Alchemecly, how do we go about it?
Well, we don't. Not really. See a soul can't really be split, as every part of it, every bit of that oil from our random herb represents the entire soul. It's why something like a Horcrux could theoretically work in giving a full life to the diary the way we see in Chamber of Secrets.
Additionally, to work with any material in Alchemy, you are required to purify it first. It means that to get a piece of soul to bind to a diary, you need a pure soul.
Killing someone else won't sever your own soul from the spirit and the body, it's not how this works. Killing someone severs their spirit and therefore splits their body, spirit, and soul. Besides, an Ancient Greek man, like Herpo was, would hardly consider murder as vile as we do today. It wouldn't even cross his mind that any murder (even an indirect one) could harm one's own soul.
No, the only way to "split" a soul is to first sever it from life, disconnecting the bond between soul and body. Essentially, the only way to promise you immortality is to kill yourself.
I know it sounds a little confusing, but, essentially, once the soul is severed from the spirit and body you can split it. Think of the herbal oil, once you have the oil, separate from the rest of the plant parts, you can combine it with new ingredients. You can only work on a specific aspect once you severed it from the other two and as what binds all three together is spirit — life — the only way to do it for a human soul — is death.
But really, how?
Well, here comes the second thing we know about making Horcruxs — that dear Herpo was from Ancient Greece.
In Ancient Greece they had multiple different religious cults, some of which were Chthonic cults. These cults dedicated themselves to death or ditties and heroes associated with death and more importantly — rebirth.
Many of these cults were dedicated to figures like Orpheus, Dionysus, and Persephone, characters in mythology who are known for going through the underworld — through death — and coming back out. These cults were very secretive and not much is known about their practices, but some are.
What is known is that they had rituals where they reenacted a death and then rebirth (usually drinking wine — water of life, was the representation of rebirth).
This created a very clear idea in my head — to split a soul, you'll have to ritualistically, magically kill yourself, severe a piece of your soul, and then revive yourself with a water of life — a potion.
This potion is never mentioned, but I believe it exists due to these Chthonic cult rituals and how they were structured. Not only that, but the Greek underworld did have a river known for being incredibly painful to drink, literally made of fire, but being able to bring the dead back - The Phlegethon River.
Note: Lethe River Water (the river in the Greek Underworld that makes the drinker forget) is a canon ingredient in a Forgetfulness Potion.
So what is the dead body for?
Well, congratulations, you killed yourself to retrieve a sliver of your soul and revived yourself so you won't stay dead. You found an item you can keep secure to tie that sliver of soul, too. Now, how would you bind then? After all, the only thing meant to bind a human soul to a body is a human spirit - a human life... you get where I'm going with this.
This is why Tom didn't have to be the one to do the deed. As long as he had a recently deceased corpse to harvest the life from to use to bind his newly split soul and the item of his choice.
It explains why nothing was missing from the bodies. Myrtle and the Riddles were investigated by the Ministry of Magic. One would assume the Aurors would've noticed if any corpse was missing a hand due to the killer eating it (as other Horcrux theories suggest).
Not only was nothing missing from the body, the soul was intact. Myrtle became a ghost after death, a ghost is quite literally, just the soul, no body, no spirit.
So the only thing that was taken from Tom's victims was their life, quite literally at that.
Is that all? Can we make a Horcrux now?
Not really. See, when analyzing spells in Harry Potter, one thing super important to note is their name.
Avada Kadevra - is a reference to an Aramaic healing spell "Abracadabra" pronounced in Aramaic as: "Avra Kadebra" and meaning "I will create as commanded". Merged with the Latin word "cadaver" meaning "corpse" to create -> "I will create dead bodies as commanded"
Or Wingardium Laviosa - is a cross of the English word "wing", the Latin word "arduus" (meaning "high, tall, lofty, steep, proudly elevated"), or "arduum" (meaning "steep place, the steep" and the Latin word "levo" (meaning to "raise, lift up"). So together the spell means -> "lift high up".
So, it's pretty clear spells, their names, and incantations are very self-explanatory. So a Horcrux should be no different.
I've seen some attempts at translating the name Horcrux. Unfortunately, these attempts treated the name as Latin, modern Greek, or Old English. Herpo, was Ancient Greek, though, so I went and translated a few possible meanings from Ancient Greek (Classical Greek and Homeric Greek are what I looked at):
ὅρκος (orkus, pronounced "hor-kus") - an oath, the object by which one swears, bound by oath (still used in modern Greek).
κρόκες (crukes, pronounced "cru-kes") - saffron-colored (blood red in Greek), crocus flower. The crocus flower symbolizes both death (the saffron that is the spice) and rebirth (the golden crocus which brings renewal and joy) because Demeter wears them when Persephone returns from the underworld in myth.
So what we have is a spell called "binding oath of death and rebirth" which all around sounds fitting.
There might also be a "made in blood" tucked at the end due to the association of κρόκες with the color of blood.
But why does it matter?
Well, now with this name, I expect the binding between the spirit from the victim, the split soul, and the item would be done in a sort of oath - an orkus.
The association with blood gives us another hint. Blood is the part of the human body most representative of life. Therefore, in Alchemy, your blood is your spirit. So it'll make sense that your own blood would be used in the binding process or more correctly in the process of turning another person's spirit into your own. Making the thread to bind the body (item) and the soul piece your own. As it also refers to just a red firey color, it can indicate the Phlagatton potion I hypothesize should be part of the ritual due to how Chthonic rituals usually went, as the Phlagaton river is made of fire.
So we have a general idea of how to make a Horcrux. You need an item of your choice to bind your soul to. You need a life (spirit) harvested from a human that you transformed into being your own using your blood. And you need a piece of your own soul, which you get by killing yourself and then reviving yourself. And you finish it off by binding it all together with an oath.
But how could you make one accidentally?
So, everyone knows Voldemort succeeded in somehow making a Horcrux accidentally, something a lot of theories I saw don't account for. Becouse whatever process you need to go to to make a Horcrux, Voldemort went through all of it the night he died the first time and marked Harry.
All the steps for my method of making a Horcrux were met that night.
The item in qustion is baby Harry, nothing interesting there.
The soul sliver was split the way it always is — through death. Voldemort died, killed by his own killing curse and that is what splits his soul.
The life or spirit that then binds his soul to Harry isn't Lily's spirit or James'; it's his own spirit that acts as a binder between Harry and Voldemort’s split soul. Because the spirit was already his, there was no need to transform it by blood so the additional ritual wasn't necessary.
Step-by-step guide to making Horcruxes:
I'm not going to actually give the full step-by-step least a budging dark lord is looking for this information. I do have notes about exact incantations and even the full recipe and instructions for the Phlagaton potion I'm going to mention. These instructions won't be here since they are more in the realm of speculation and headcanon. This is just the overview of the ritual based on canon information and the occult philosophy I mentioned above. (edit: the full step-by-step headcanon with my potion recipe and everything does appear in the reblogs)
Step 1 - Life and Blood
Get access to a recently deceased human and extract their Mercury (Spirit or Life Essence).
Submerge the retrieved life essence with your own blood on a new moon (life and vitality). (7 drops of blood will probably do)
Step 2 - Water of Fire
To complete the cycle of death and rebirth you’ll need the Phlegeton Water potion to return you to life at the end of the cycle.
As you brew the potion, it must be brewed in a dark room, preferably underground to remind as much of the underworld as possible.
While brewing the potion one must be in the mindset of the Phlegeton, must be willing to go through agony to achieve eternal life and imbue these thoughts in their potion. (In alchemy, when working, it is believed you imbue your work with your thoughts during the Alchemical process. As an Alchemical process affects both the material being worked and the Alchemist themselves)
Likley Ingrediants:
Saffron spice
Golden crocus flower juice
Pomegranate juice
Step 3 - The Ritual Preparation
Set up your space so none of the components may escape the ritual space and so the ritual will not be interfered with.
Make sure the spirit you retrieved is within reach.
Make sure the item you desire will hold the Horcrux will be within reach as well.
Coax the spirit into the item and prepare it to tie your soul to the next step.
Step 4 - Death and Rebirth
To create a thread of your soul to tie to the ritual, you must die figuratively. Go through death to return stronger from the underworld.
Once you feel like death has reached you and your soul is separated you should heal your soul and finish the cycle, bringing you out of death and back to life by drinking the Phlegeton potion.
After the pain subsides you will feel healthier than before, stronger than before, and you’ll have an additional thread of sulfur (soul) in your chest to be pulled out and placed into the Horcrux.
The split-off soul should, on its own, try to search for life and a body to be bound to. If it doesn't, coax it out yourself and bind it to the Horcrux with the spirit you made in step 1.
Step 5 - Oath of Life
The connection between the body (the item), soul, and spirit is still unstable, if most likely strong enough to hold.
Swear the oath of life to finalize the bond between you, the Horcrux, and the soul thread together to ward off death.
I'll end with this note I made regarding Horcruxes when I started working on this theory:
I don't know what all goes into the process of making a Horcrux but I don't believe a person who truly likes themselves and doesn't want to inflict pain on themselves could make a Horcrux. Tearing up your soul is an act of arrogance above nature, sure, thinking you deserve to change the laws of the world and be the exception is part of it, but it's also an act of self-hatred. You need to hate yourself enough to be willing to kill yourself, hurt yourself, and tear yourself up in the most unnatural ways — hence why so few can do so, let alone more than once.
And Tom Riddle does seem to have that exact mix of arrogance, spite, and low self-esteem that would allow it.
Writing Prompt
The Horcrux in Harry, that little sliver of Tom Riddle, grew with Harry, being a helpful voice and a friend in his mind. He always tried to help Harry in times of crisis, even if the darkness that the rest of him pulled him to not. Soon enough, Harry is in Hogwarts and has a full on panic attack. Tom is trying everything in his power to calm him down, to help him through, doing everything he knows how before he, himself, panics as Harry faints in the middle of class.
Harry wakes in his own mind to see the face of the voice he’s always heard but ever was able to see. And what he sees is a broken boy like him. As Tom finally looks over at him, tears streaming down his face, only four words were spoken. “I tried my best.”
Please try to not make it Tomarry. I’d like to see them more as brothers, if you can ☺️ Also I’d love if you tagged me to make sure I see it!
Inspired mildly by this song, if you wish to listen to help:
How can you destroy a Horcrux in the shape of a ghost?
Anonymous asked: When Harry and Ron destroy slytherin’s locket
Soooo…
I did a thing…😁
Tommy fan girls/boys, don’t come after me.
Look at the tie
This 👉your🫵 Mans 🚹? ❓
Tom Riddle? Or Rom Tiddle?
I‘ll survive.
always wondered how Snape never clocked that the diary/ring/Harry was a horcrux (other than the plot needed him to remain in the dark). Doesn’t add up that teen Regulus knew what it was and the 38 year old Dark Arts expert and professional double agent who has seen Voldy fail to die never worked it out
honestly, anon? same.
although i think we can work our way around this with a bit of canon-wrangling...
we can probably justify snape not clocking that harry's a horcrux during order of the phoenix, on account of the fact that he's presumably the only human horcrux in existence.
dumbledore says in half-blood prince that using animals as horcruxes is unusual because it's inadvisable, because the behaviour of a sentient horcrux can't be predicted or controlled [and it may, i suppose the implication is, therefore destroy itself, thus defeating the purpose of making it] - and snape is certainly taken aback by dumbledore asking him to keep an eye on nagini.
this could, however, be interpreted as snape being surprised that voldemort - who is highly-strung even by the standards of people who might encase their souls in inanimate objects - would have made an animal horcrux, even though he knows voldemort is able to control nagini through virtue of being a parselmouth.
connected to this, snape's understanding of the attack which harry witnesses on arthur weasley is that voldemort was mentally present in nagini when the attack took place:
“You seem to have visited the snake’s mind because that was where the Dark Lord was at that particular moment,” snarled Snape. “He was possessing the snake at the time and so you dreamed you were inside it too...”
voldemort is canonically known to be able to possess people - ginny weasley chief among them - and also, by his own admission in goblet of fire, to possess snakes. the assumption snape is making is that voldemort's control over nagini is one of the "standard" possessions the dark lord is capable of - and he must also assume, as mad-eye moody does and as the rest of the order accepts moody's account of, that harry's visions are the result of voldemort possessing or attempting to possess him.
indeed, there's an interesting sense in canon that many of the adult characters don't understand that harry's visions don't resemble what possession typically looks like - which is a genre convention which is in keeping with the overall narrative arc of the series as children's literature. the child-heroes need to be able to work everything out and the adults need to be, at best, politely disinterested - and this manifests itself throughout the seven-book canon in the fact that the child characters understand voldemort considerably better than any of the adult ones.
after all, the only person who points out that harry's experience isn't standard possession is also a child:
“Well, that was a bit stupid of you,” said Ginny angrily, “seeing as you don’t know anyone but me who’s been possessed by You-Know-Who, and I can tell you how it feels.” Harry remained quite still as the impact of these words hit him. Then he turned on the spot to face her. “I forgot,” he said. “Lucky you,” said Ginny coolly. “I’m sorry,” Harry said, and he meant it. “So... so do you think I’m being possessed, then?” “Well, can you remember everything you’ve been doing?” Ginny asked. “Are there big blank periods where you don’t know what you’ve been up to?” “No,” he said. “Then You-Know-Who hasn’t ever possessed you,” said Ginny simply. “When he did it to me, I couldn’t remember what I’d been doing for hours at a time. I’d find myself somewhere and not know how I got there.”
from snape's perspective, then, the idea that nagini and harry are simply being possessed by voldemort - rather than that they're sentient horcruxes [and that harry is a unique type of sentient horcrux, and that voldemort could have been stupid enough to intentionally make his child-enemy who hates him into a receptacle for his soul] - is the result of him applying the principle of occam's razor: that the simplest explanation is usually the correct one.
snape does, however, acknowledge that harry and voldemort's mental connection is unusual:
“The Dark Lord is at a considerable distance and the walls and grounds of Hogwarts are guarded by many ancient spells and charms to ensure the bodily and mental safety of those who dwell within them,” said Snape. “Time and space matter in magic, Potter. Eye contact is often essential to Legilimency.” “Well then, why do I have to learn Occlumency?” Snape eyed Harry, tracing his mouth with one long, thin finger as he did so. “The usual rules do not seem to apply with you, Potter. The curse that failed to kill you seems to have forged some kind of connection between you and the Dark Lord. The evidence suggests that at times, when your mind is most relaxed and vulnerable - when you are asleep, for instance - you are sharing the Dark Lord’s thoughts and emotions. The headmaster thinks it inadvisable for this to continue. He wishes me to teach you how to close your mind to the Dark Lord.”
obviously, we know that the connection forged between harry and voldemort is that harry's a horcrux. but it's also the case that harry doesn't have the ability to see into voldemort's mind before voldemort is corporeal again. if we assume that dumbledore keeps harry's visions from the earlier parts of goblet of fire secret from snape - and there's no reason why this wouldn't be the case - then snape's understanding of the mental connection between harry and voldemort is presumably that it was caused by voldemort using harry's blood to resurrect himself.
after all, snape must know about the blood protection established by lily's death, since not only the full order [moody mentions it in deathly hallows] but the death eaters also know about it. he will also know that voldemort used harry's blood for the ritual because voldemort did this in order to show off - he's proud of the symbolism, and you can tell he was dining out on it right up until it spectacularly backfired...
the question then becomes whether snape truly deeps what dumbledore's saying when he tells him - during the half-blood prince timeline, but not revealed to us until the end of deathly hallows - that:
“On the night Lord Voldemort tried to kill him, when Lily cast her own life between them as a shield, the Killing Curse rebounded upon Lord Voldemort, and a fragment of Voldemort’s soul was blasted apart from the whole, and latched itself onto the only living soul left in that collapsing building. Part of Lord Voldemort lives inside Harry, and it is that which gives him the power of speech with snakes, and a connection with Lord Voldemort’s mind that he has never understood. And while that fragment of soul, unmissed by Voldemort, remains attached to and protected by Harry, Lord Voldemort cannot die.”
snape realises, without dumbledore prompting him further, that this means harry has to die. which means, i think, that we can justifiably suggest that snape has twigged that harry needs to die because - in order for a horcrux to be destroyed - the container needs to be damaged beyond all repair...
and - let's be frank - his little argument with dumbledore after this revelation makes perfect sense if he knows that dumbledore is speaking about harry as a horcrux:
“I have spied for you and lied for you, put myself in mortal danger for you. Everything was supposed to be to keep Lily Potter’s son safe. Now you tell me you have been raising him like a pig for slaughter - ”
snape's beef is that dumbledore secured his cooperation as a spy on the pretence that he could atone for his role in lily's death by protecting harry from voldemort, while dumbledore knew all along that this was never going to happen [snape does not, of course, know that dumbledore reckons harry will be able to return]. clearly, he would have preferred dumbledore to have just smothered harry as a baby, destroyed the horcrux, and saved them all the agony.
and so i think that it's canonically impossible that snape doesn't understand - eventually - that harry's a horcrux.
and i also think that it's canonically impossible that snape doesn't clock the others well before this.
after all, voldemort states in goblet of fire that the reason he's so pissed off by the death eaters who pretended to have renounced him after 1981 is because they knew he couldn't die:
“I was ripped from my body, I was less than spirit, less than the meanest ghost... but still, I was alive. What I was, even I do not know... I, who have gone further than anybody along the path that leads to immortality. You know my goal - to conquer death. And now, I was tested, and it appeared that one or more of my experiments had worked... for I had not been killed, though the curse should have done it. Nevertheless, I was as powerless as the weakest creature alive, and without the means to help myself... for I had no body, and every spell that might have helped me required the use of a wand... “I remember only forcing myself, sleeplessly, endlessly, second by second, to exist... I settled in a faraway place, in a forest, and I waited... Surely, one of my faithful Death Eaters would try and find me... one of them would come and perform the magic I could not, to restore me to a body... but I waited in vain...”
[he is hamming it up so much here. the man understands camp.]
what he means by this - clearly - is that the fact that he'd made at least one horcrux was common knowledge among his minions, which provides the explanation for why regulus knew what was going on [which i've gone into more detail about here].
which makes sense - voldemort actually tells us in canon that his safeguards aren't that nobody knows he created the horcruxes [and also, if that's what he'd been going for, he'd almost certainly have killed slughorn.]
the section is too long to quote, but if you look at the bit in chapter twenty-seven of deathly hallows when he's panicking that harry and dumbledore have figured out his secrets, the thing he's afraid of isn't that they know he's made horcruxes, but that they've worked out what the objects are and where they might be hidden, something he was certain nobody other than himself would ever be able to discover.
the ring - for example - could only be located by someone who knew voldemort's full birth name, who knew that the name "marvolo" was associated with the gaunts, and who knew where the gaunts had once lived.
the locket - as voldemort understands it, since he assumes kreacher is drowned by the inferi - could only be located by someone who knew that voldemort had, as a child, been taken on an outing to the coast and had lured two children into a cave to torture them.
the diadem could only be located by someone who knew that it wasn't actually lost, knew that helena ravenclaw could be manipulated into revealing where it was, and knew how to open the room of requirement - which voldemort canonically believes is impossible for anyone other than him [even though this makes absolutely no sense to me - there's furniture everywhere, babe?].
the cup could only be located by someone who managed to bypass gringotts' famously tight security, gain access to the lestranges' vault, pick out the cup from among all the other objects stored within [which would also require them to know that a shop-boy called tom riddle stole it from a woman called hepzibah smith] and then not get crushed to death by a rising tide of molten metal.
the diary is much less closely guarded - although voldemort evidently believes that lucius malfoy can be trusted to keep it safe until he tells him otherwise. but this - as dumbledore tells us in half-blood prince - is because voldemort wants it to be used, so that the chamber of secrets can be reopened, and that he's therefore prepared to take the risk of it being destroyed because he believes that his other horcruxes are so secure that the loss of the diary won't matter. this is also, i suspect, his view of nagini - which is why him moving to protect her is taken by both dumbledore and harry as the signal that no other horcruxes remain.
snape must know, then, that voldemort has made horcruxes, because voldemort must, however obliquely, have told him so.
and he must figure out that the diary and the ring are horcruxes specifically. he's clearly the source of dumbledore's information that voldemort's fury when he discovered the diary had been destroyed was "terrible to behold".
and he must be the person who prompts phineas nigellus black to drop the info that dumbledore used the sword of gryffindor to break open the ring. harry and hermione assume this is something black lets slip without knowing its significance, but we know from the prince's tale that he visits them at snape's request in order to find out how the horcrux hunt is going.
[on the sword of gryffindor, snape's statement - "and you won't tell me why it's so important to give potter the sword?" - has to be taken as asking why the sword is so crucial to the destruction of a horcrux that he's being forced to go to great personal risk to give it to harry in order for this overall argument to work... but i think this reading is plausible - not least because voldemort knows that harry was left the sword in dumbledore's will, since wizarding wills are examined by the ministry, and could undoubtedly find out very easily if he wanted to that the sword snape places in the lestranges' vault is a fake.]
the reason that snape doesn't participate in the horcrux hunt in any more specific way relates to the point about genre conventions and child-heroes made above.
the reason that the horcrux hunt takes the form it takes isn't because horcruxes themselves are magic so arcane and unknowable that only the trio, dumbledore, and voldemort are aware they exist. it's because harry - even more than dumbledore - is the only person who knows voldemort well enough to figure out what the horcruxes are made from and where they are.
[this is why i don't vibe with stories which assume the hunt goes quicker if snape - or sirius or anyone - helps the trio. the point is that nobody but harry could figure out that voldemort would be seething about not having a vault at gringotts, or that he would have hidden the diadem the night of his failed job interview.]
snape appears to know the adult voldemort reasonably well, but there's no evidence at all that he knows anything about his life prior to c.1970 - either from dumbledore or from voldemort himself. this means that he would be absolutely no help when it came to guessing what the horcruxes were - the diary, ring, cup, diadem, and locket all presuppose the knowledge that voldemort was once called tom riddle, after all.
which makes him useless to harry when it comes to hunting them down. by the time dumbledore dies, harry knows with near-absolute certainty what five of the horcruxes are: the diary, ring, cup, locket, and snake. he knows for a fact that two of these have been destroyed, he and dumbledore believe they've just got their hands on a third, and he knows where a fourth is [nagini, next to voldemort]. the location of the cup - and the form and location of the sixth horcrux, the diadem - is something only harry has the ability to work out. the seventh - harry himself - is information dumbledore has ordered snape to keep hidden until the appointed time.
meaning that snape clearly does know what a horcrux is - both in theory and when four [diary, ring, nagini, harry] of voldemort's own are put in front of him - but that this knowledge is sufficiently incomplete as to be irrelevant to the quest harry's engaged in which takes up the narrative's time.