It's just a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

Chapter 397 "Seven"

It was nearly midnight when Sherlock returned to Hogwarts.

Instead of taking the four of Rodolphus back to the castle, he called Kingsley and asked him to bring the four Death Eaters back to the Ministry of Magic.

Neither Hogwarts Castle nor 12 Grimmauld Place are suitable places to hold wizards.

Besides, regarding the interrogation of the Death Eaters, the Order of the Phoenix and the Ministry of Magic could be said to be in touch with each other, so there was no extra consideration, and Kingsley directly took them away.

Silk was waiting for Sherlock in Hogsmeade, and then walked into the castle with him.

Although the four Rodolphs are also very important, and they can pry out a lot of information about Voldemort's current situation from them, the biggest gain tonight is Slughorn's memory.

After letting Silk go back to rest first, Sherlock took this memory and went straight to the principal's office.

Dumbledore hadn't slept yet, and the office was brightly lit. Not only was he waiting for Sherlock, but he was also urgently dealing with unfinished business during the day.

He also has many responsibilities on his body. Recently, the search for Horcruxes has involved most of his energy during the day, and he can only deal with these complicated things at night.

Seeing Sherlock, Dumbledore raised his head tiredly, rubbed his temples, and still had such a gentle expression on his face.

"It seems that you have gained something this time?"

Sherlock didn't make a fool of himself, he directly took out the bottle containing the memory from his pocket and put it on the desk.

"Professor Slughorn didn't want to give me this memory at first, but after I drank some wine with him and said something, he changed his mind."

After that, he also told Dumbledore about capturing Rodolphs and the others, but these were not the focus of tonight.

Dumbledore put down the documents in his hands and took out the Pensieve from the cabinet at the back of the office.

"Let's see how Riddle got the Horcrux message from Horace that year. I hope this memory can provide us with some help."

As he spoke, he pulled the silver thread in the glass bottle with his wand, and put it into the Pensieve.

The next moment, the Pensieve was filled with that silvery substance that looked like liquid or gas.

Dumbledore and Sherlock looked at each other, and then entered this memory together without any hesitation.

It was an office distinct from any teacher's office in Hogwarts today.

As a young man, Slughorn had grown like a fat walrus.

He had thick, lustrous straw-blond hair and a ginger moustache, and he sat in a comfortable winged armchair, with his feet resting on a large velvet cushion, a small glass of wine in one hand, and Picking from a box of candied pineapple.

Six or seven teenage boys sat around Slughorn, among them Tom Riddle.

When seeing this scene, Sherlock's eyes were fixed on Slughorn, but Dumbledore's eyes were attracted by a black ring on Riddle's hand from the very beginning.

Riddle was asking Slughorn when they arrived.

"Sir, is Professor Mellors retiring?"

"Tom, I know I can't tell you."

Slughorn shook a frosted finger reproachfully at him, but blinked again.

"I have to say, I wonder where you got your news, boy. You know more than half the faculty."

Riddle smiled, and the other boys laughed too, casting him admiring glances.

"You ghost, you can know things you shouldn't know, and you are careful to please important people. By the way, thank you for your pineapple. You guessed it right. This is my favorite."

The boys snickered, and Slughorn spoke half-jokingly, half-seriously.

"I'm sure you'll be Minister for Magic in 20 years. Maybe in 15, if you keep sending me pineapple preserves. I have strong connections in the Ministry."

The other boys laughed again, and Tom Riddle only smiled.

Sherlock noticed that he was by no means the oldest of the boys, but they all seemed to regard him as the leader.

"I don't know if politics is for me, sir," said Tom Riddle, after the laughter had died down. "I don't have a strong background in the first place."

The two boys next to each other looked at each other and smiled. They must have thought of a private joke, undoubtedly known or guessed by them, related to their leader's illustrious ancestors.

Only then did Sherlock notice that one of the boys had a familiar face.

He was the one who caught the Death Eater today - Rodolphus Lestrange.

"What?" said Slughorn brightly. "A talent like yours must come from a respectable family of wizards. That's clear enough. You have a bright future, Tom, and I've never missed a student. "

The little golden clock on the desk struck eleven.

"My God, is it time already? Time to go, boys, or we'll be in trouble. Lestrange, hand in your essay tomorrow, or you'll be in detention, and so will you, Avery."

The boys filed out, and Slughorn got up from his chair and brought the empty glass to the table, when a movement behind him turned his head, and Riddle was still standing there.

"Come on, Tom, you don't want to be caught outside after lights out, you're a prefect..."

"Sir, I want to ask you something."

"Then ask, boy, ask..."

"Sir, I want to ask you if you know... Horcruxes."

Slughorn stared at him, stroking the stem of the glass absently with his fat fingers.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts subject, isn't it?"

Sherlock could see that Slughorn knew it wasn't school work.

"No, sir, I read it in a book, and I don't quite understand it."

Slughorn obviously didn't want to talk about Horcruxes with Riddle.

It's just that Riddle's hesitant, casual tone, and clever compliments were not over the top at all.

Watching from the third perspective, Sherlock could see that he actually wanted to know this information, and the wording and attitude of the organization were clearly planned for a long time.

Slughorn seemed to have complete confidence in his student.

After all, judging from Riddle's performance, as long as he continues to develop step by step, he will have a great future.

And how could such a person be willing to use a magic like a horcrux to ruin his life?

"Of course, it wouldn't do any harm to give you a brief introduction, just to give you a sense of the term. A horcrux is an object that houses part of a person's soul."

"But I don't quite understand what that is, sir," said Riddle.

His voice is carefully controlled, and you can feel his excitement if you listen carefully.

"That is, you split your soul," said Slughorn, "and hide a part in some object outside your body. That way, if your body is attacked or destroyed, you cannot die, For there is still a portion of the soul left unharmed. But, of course, in this form..."

Slughorn scowled.

"Very few people would like that, Tom, and it's better to die than that."

But Riedel's performance obviously doesn't look like someone who will give up this method.

His handsome face hides uncontrollable greed and impatience, he continued to ask.

"How to split the soul?"

"Anthracene," said Slughorn uneasily, "you must understand that the soul should remain intact. To split it is a violation, and it is against nature."

"But how did it split?"

"By an act of evil—the most evil of all, by murder. Killing splits the soul, and wizards who wish to create Horcruxes take advantage of this destruction: by sealing the fragments of the split soul."

"It needs a spell, don't ask me what the spell is, do I look like a murderer?"

"No, of course I didn't mean that, sir." Riddle said hastily, "I'm just out of curiosity. What I want to ask is, is a Horcrux useful? Can a soul only be split once? Is it okay to divide a few more pieces? Better, makes you stronger? Like, isn't seven the most magical number? Seven—?"

"Seven!"

Slughorn raised his voice, looking as if he regretted talking to Riddle about it.

He stood up awkwardly from his chair. "My God, Tom! Seven! Isn't it evil enough to kill one? Anyway... splitting the soul is evil enough... and splitting into seven pieces..."

Dumbledore grabbed Sherlock's arm at this moment.

"We should go, Sherlock."

The surrounding pictures began to shatter, turning into one after another silver threads circling around them.

There is only so much content in this memory, but it has already brought them enough critical information.

Back in Dumbledore's office, they sat back on the chair together, and Sherlock had a somewhat incredulous expression on his face.

"So, Voldemort's ultimate goal is to split his soul into seven parts and create seven Horcruxes?"

Dumbledore crossed his fingers in front of him, he said thoughtfully.

"You ignore the soul that he has always wanted to dominate. The final number of Horcruxes he plans to make should be six, six Horcruxes."

Sherlock frowned.

"But these are just his thoughts when he was in school. Is it possible that he changed his mind later and split his soul into more copies for the insurance period, and the number of Horcruxes is more than six?"

Dumbledore shook his head.

"You should be clearer than anyone else, Sherlock, the key to a wizard's spellcasting lies in his own emotions and will. There is absolutely no way to change the target determined at the beginning of the spellcasting when the spell is completed."

"I don't have a deep study of magic like Horcruxes, but no matter how advanced or evil it is, it will not violate the essence of magic."

"And the first Horcrux that Riddle made was his diary. At that time, he was still in Hogwarts, and his thoughts should not have changed so easily."

"That is to say, when he made the first Horcrux, he had already set the tone for the number of split souls. Under his will, his soul can only be split into seven parts at most, unless -"

When he said this, Dumbledore's eyes became a little deep, and he murmured.

"Unless something unexpected happens that he didn't expect."

Sherlock stroked his chin and said in a deep voice.

"The probability of such an accident happening is not very high, is it?"

Dumbledore didn't answer his question immediately, he seemed to be thinking about something, but this matter was a bit too complicated and uncertain, and he didn't think it through in this short period of time.

"Accidents are not something we can predict in advance, so no matter how high the probability is, we don't have to include it."

"This memory of Horace has provided us with a very clear goal, seven souls, six Horcruxes, and we have discovered and found three of them, and the rest are in the Room of Requirement. One, I also found some clues in Riddle's hometown during this time, as for the last Horcrux."

Dumbledore's eyes flickered, and he made a bold guess.

"It's most likely the snake that was beside Voldemort."

He had met Nashgee once, the night of the final event of the Triwizard Tournament last semester.

Sherlock was also recalling the reaction to the imprint on his left arm the night he was teleported to Voldemort.

The mark was indeed hot at that time, but at that time he thought that the source of the burning was Voldemort who was about to be resurrected, and he did not suspect Nashji.

Thinking about it now, it is indeed very possible.

Harry dreamed of Voldemort's perspective every time in the early days, which can also prove this fact. The big snake named Nashji is a bit too special. The request of one's own Horcrux.

He is the descendant of Slytherin, and the only animal that can represent Slytherin and the house is the snake!

Sherlock took a deep breath, and he and Dumbledore looked into each other's eyes.

"If all the information we have obtained is accurate, it means that Voldemort's Horcruxes have been found out by us, and the one hidden in the Castle's Room of Requirement can basically be Ravenclaw's diadem, Counting Nashiji and the one that Professor you found the clue recently, we already know the location of the remaining three Horcruxes."

Dumbledore also showed a slightly relaxed look on his face, but he still reminded.

"Knowing the location of the remaining horcruxes does not mean that we can defeat Voldemort. Even if we can successfully destroy all the horcruxes in the future, Voldemort will not die because of this. He just lost the capital of resurrection. We still have to think about it in the end. Way to kill him!"

(End of this chapter)