Soul Splitting

Chapter 40: Soul Splitting

"I feel like I've drunk the Draught of Living Death."

Ron's words left Charles utterly bewildered.

"Last night," Ron explained, "after drinking the soup you made, I found I slept incredibly soundly."

Charles blinked. It can work like that?

He glanced around at the others who had joined him for a late-night snack. Everyone else shook their heads.

"I see," Charles mused, tapping his chin. "If you ever have trouble sleeping again, come find me."

Ron immediately shook his head. "No need, it's too expensive."

Charles just smiled.

At that moment, Harry said to Charles with some indignation, "I think Professor Quirrell is targeting you."

Charles paused his dinner and asked in confusion, "Why do you think that?"

Harry and Voldemort have a wireless link, Charles thought. Could he sense Voldemort's malice towards me?

"Isn't it obvious?" Harry said, sounding annoyed. "Today, he gave you detention just because your left foot entered the classroom first."

Seeing what Harry was referring to, Charles replied, "It's fine, the professor was joking. He just asked me to help him organize his lesson plans."

After a month of effort, he had finally compiled all the cursed spell information Voldemort had prepared. As a result, Professor Quirrell's teaching ability had improved significantly.

Now, Professor Quirrell's lectures were much more organized. He simply read from the cursed spell cards and added demonstrations and practice of defensive spells, which was far better than the dry lectures before.

Fifth-year students like Percy, who would be taking their Ordinary Wizarding Level exams next June, breathed a sigh of relief. The professor was reliable now, and their exams seemed more hopeful.

Charles felt that if he could finish extracting cases from that show-off's books over the next month, he might even be able to cobble together a Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook.

After dinner, Charles arrived precisely at Professor Quirrell's office. A tall stack of Gilderoy Lockhart's books was already waiting on the small desk.

Voldemort had been acting rather strangely lately. Perhaps he was possessed by Hermione, as he spent every night poring over books, seemingly searching for something.

That evening, as his detention was nearing its end, Charles suddenly asked Voldemort, "Professor Quirrell, do you know about Horcruxes?"

Voldemort's head snapped up, his expression unusually serious. He studied Charles intently for a long moment before asking, "Why do you ask such a question?"

Good heavens, he marveled internally. He's noticed Horcruxes in his first year. What will he be like when he grows up?

Charles feigned confusion and used a long-thought-out excuse. "I read in a book that making a Horcrux requires splitting off a piece of one's soul. I was wondering, what does it feel like after the soul splits? The people in the oil paintings seem alive; are they Horcruxes too?"

Voldemort looked at him for a while, confirming that Charles showed no signs of panic and wasn't a spy sent by Dumbledore, before answering, "Oil paintings are not Horcruxes; they are a kind of false soul."

He glanced at the books before him and continued, "If the soul were a book, then the false soul in an oil painting would be like a partial copy of a chapter, not an identical book."

"When people die without becoming ghosts, their souls disappear, leaving nothing to copy, and thus no oil paintings can be made."

"A split soul..." Voldemort paused to think before continuing, "The soul is far more mysterious and powerful than we realize."

"When souls split, they maintain a special connection with each other."

After saying this, he tore the two books in front of him into pieces, mixed them together, then took out his wand and restored them with a repairing charm, resulting in two intact books.

Voldemort continued his demonstration. "Because of the connection between split soul fragments, when a person's body dies, the soul is held back by the fragments, rather than slipping into the abyss of death."

"As long as the Horcrux exists, as long as the soul fragment within the Horcrux remains, the person will not die. Even if their body decays, their soul will still survive and merely needs to find a new body."

Charles nodded. "So that's how it works. I wonder if you can still collect your original pension after switching bodies."

Voldemort's face was a mask of confusion.

"Ghosts have no bodies," Voldemort continued, ignoring the pension comment. "But they still have their memories from life. Do you know what that means?"

Charles thought for a moment and replied, "Memory. The soul is the vessel of memory."

Voldemort said with satisfaction, "Precisely. Foolish Muggles believe memory is held in the brain, hehe..."

"The soul carries a person's memories. If someone consciously splits their soul, they will prepare beforehand to avoid losing that part of their memory."

"However, some people's souls split due to accidents, unprepared. They lose that part of their memory, like a book suddenly having many pages torn out. Perhaps the table of contents still records the missing parts, and other pages might mention them, but the detailed content can never be found."

"The connection between the soul and its fragments... theoretically, it would give one a feeling of being called by something from afar."

Charles asked again, "Could soul fragments develop independent consciousness? For example, like a plant growing into a large tree from a single branch, eventually becoming a different self?"

This question caused Voldemort to fall silent. He pondered for a long time before replying, "I don't know. Very few people have made Horcruxes, and no one has researched this issue."

Charles thanked him and nodded thoughtfully, having understood Voldemort's explanation.

He thought that the reason for his transmigration was likely not a good one, causing severe damage to his soul and the loss of some memories.

And since he hadn't felt that sense of being called, the lost part of his soul had probably perished, or remained in his original world and didn't come with him.

The old man and the Sorting Hat had both mentioned a deep pain within him; perhaps it was a result of soul damage.

However, Charles still had one more question, so he asked, "Professor Quirrell, are the Patronuses of the Patronus Charm always animals? Could they appear as humans?"

Voldemort's answer surprised him. "Human Patronuses? Wizards in Japan have summoned them. They call these humanoid Patronuses... 'Soul of the Back'... something like that. It's said to have guarded the wizard since birth."

Charles nodded silently. The term "Soul of the Back" seemed acceptable.

But the problem was, he knew without a doubt that his Patronus was a ship girl. What kind of nonsense was that?

He finally decided to stop thinking about it. The real headache would be the Dementors.