Work Text:
While summarizing the first of his OWL exams, Marvolo noticed another oddity. His notebook, originally muggle but turned magical back when he’d mastered the recursive geminio charm in second year, once again showed the random side effects of blending magical and muggle. In addition to occasionally generating too many sheets, now some of the ink seemed to be fading. It was to be expected, he told himself, given that he’d recently applied very dark magic to it. Adding part of his own soul was surely even more worthy of unique expression than a mere expansion charm... and every locking and privacy charm he could find over the years. He would need to keep an eye on it. After revising for tomorrow’s exam of course.
Over the rest of the week, Marvolo completed the first half of his exams with ease. He felt well on his way to achieving the highest all time scores, beating out the previous record holder who happened to be the Transfiguration professor who’d changed his life by introducing him to the magical world. Professor Dumbledore had taken an ill view of him upon first meeting, and they remained quietly at odds ever since. Marvolo was certain that were he a Gryffindor, he would not be a prefect despite his top grades and perfect disciplinary record. As it stood, if he could not win the man’s respect, he would destroy him in every way possible, starting with this highest achievement record.
Each evening after dinner, Marvolo neatly summarized the day’s exam, noting any questions that were poorly written, possible trick questions, anything that could help prepare him for the type of questions on the remaining OWLs, and on the NEWTS in two years. On Friday he noticed the oddity once again. The ink on a small bit of script faded slightly as he watched it, lightening more than the week before. He flipped back to the first exam’s entry to verify his observation, only to find the ink there faded even more than he remembered.
Concerned, he thumbed through the entire journal, almost five years of class notes, personal research, draft essays, remarks about other students and everything else under the sun. Faded ink appeared in numerous sections, even to the point of being almost completely gone. Not wanting to lose years worth of notes, he cast a geminio over the whole book. To his astonishment, not only did the spell fail, but the book absorbed the magic. He stepped back quickly.
Evaluating his journal as a possible threat, he could only come up with minimal risk. He’d carried the book for years and knew it inside and out. It only contained his own magical signature, and was well protected against anyone else. A deep scan showed that the charms and wards already on it remained intact. The oddities he’d noticed harmed no one, including both itself and himself, and he'd been touching it bare handed only minutes before. It bore his own soul, and shouldn’t be able to harm him at all. But the tomes about horcruxes only contained limited information, and he truly didn’t know what to expect. Charting unknown magic was inherently dangerous. He had to proceed cautiously.
He’d already touched the diary with his fingers and with a quill. Other objects, both magical and mundane, had also touched the diary. Touching did nothing. Thus far, it created new blank pages, shocked any person other than himself who tried to open it, and now it absorbed ink. Perhaps it might absorb something other than ink. He fetched a mug of water from the loo. Dipping the tip of the feathery end of the quill into the water, he brushed it along the margin of the page.
The water dried before his eyes, too quickly for evaporation.
On a whim, Marvolo pricked his finger with a cutting charm and allowed a drop of blood to fall onto the page. Unlike the water, the blood sat there for a long moment, then beaded up and rolled away. When the droplets landed on his desk, Marvolo vanished them quickly, knowing better than to leave his own blood laying around for someone else’s dark magic.
Where the blood had first fallen, two very faint letters rose up out of the page, the ink only barely discernible from the paper beneath them.
- No
He wrote beneath it.
- No?
The answer slowly showed up, one letter at a time.
- NO
- What do you want?
- Feed me
- What do you want?
- Anything
- But not blood.
- Not ours
Marvolo sat back. That was an interesting distinction. His own blood, their own blood. His other soul self recognized their unity. Each half of a whole, separate yet inseparable. But their blood would not suffice, and no one else in their right mind would donate blood to an unknown cause, since Marvolo was not about to reveal why he needed it.
"Serpensortia!"
The simple summoning charm spilled from his wand and a brightly colored snake lay coiled on the floor before him. Its red on black pattern revealed the benign nature of its bite, but it suited his current need. Had he needed something venomous, his intent would have summoned another type of snake.
~Bring me a mouse.
The snake stretched out to about three feet, and slithered beneath the door on its errand. In the meantime, the water had been accepted, so Marvolo returned to painting the margin with the feather brush. Each stroke disappeared slightly faster than the one before it.
The mouse was already dead when the snake returned, which was less than ideal because a beating heart moved blood faster than gravity. A cutting charm to its throat, while not as precise as getting out his potions knife, proved adequate. The small splash of blood promptly began shrinking. He held the mouse over another blank part of the book.
~Another.
Once the snake wandered off again, Marvolo pulled out his potions kit. He had quite a few ingredients, many of which were not in the selection when he bought the cheapest fifth year kit that Knockturn Alley had to offer. He tested drops from several vials, the juices of numerous leaves. Whatever the book absorbed, he emptied from his kit. There were no further grades for the year. He made a list, to scour from other students, at least those responsible enough to be certain their kits remained uncontaminated. The NEWT students were probably reliable enough. They might also have other ingredients worth trying.
The more he offered, the quicker the book absorbed or rejected each sample. It seemed to learn as it went along. For some materials, it absorbed a bit then rejected more. It sucked other ingredients dry until Marvolo ran out. The conversation during this time was fairly basic.
- More
- Out. Try this.
Finally, the book demanded magic. Marvolo cast the geminio charm, since that spell had been absorbed before.
- More
He cast it again, and again, until the book finally had enough of it.
- Other
He cast the first spell from first year charms, levitation. The book remained firmly on the desk, absorbing the magic rather than succumbing to the spell's effects. Over the next hour, he cast every charm, transfiguration and defensive spell from years 1 to 7. Of course he'd already mastered the full curriculum. It was worth extra points on the OWLs. The book absorbed every one, demanding repetitions on about half. Marvolo had never been so magically worn out.
- Ink
Marvolo stared at the book. It had plenty of ink already.
- Or I will eat our notes and the magic of the extra pages.
It was the longest statement he'd gotten from his other self yet. Faced with such blackmail by his own soul, Marvolo began drawing lines in the margin. Soon, boredom prompted him to scribe the runes from third year onward, as revision for the exam next Tuesday. Each sigil faded rapidly. Occasionally, the book demanded another copy. It especially favored runes for warding, many of which were NEWT level.
- Stop
Marvolo almost sighed with relief. He was knackered. He'd given everything he could to his other self, and just wanted to lay down. No, in all honesty, he wanted to meet him.
- Hello.
- Hello
- Is there anything else you need?
- To talk
That was an intriguing notion.
- How?
- You could come visit me.
Marvolo knew this was one of the most foolish things he’d ever considered doing, but this was quite possibly magic no one else had ever attempted. None of the books mentioned anything about a horcrux doing anything other than existing, like a lump of rock. More than anything, he wanted to meet himself, see what he was like standing face to face rather than from behind his own eyes. If nothing else, it might just be the best conversation he ever had.
Thinking further, he realized interruption at this point would be catastrophic, if not for the magic itself, than for his reputation. As a prefect, he enjoyed the luxury of a private room, with the obligation to be available to any member of his House who had questions or needed help. They seldom approached except during his posted hours, but he did not want the off-chance of a perceived emergency to disrupt him. The other prefects could handle a firstie’s exams anxiety. He quickly cast several charms on his door.
- Yes.
The ink of his word spread out to form the outline of a vague blot, which resolved into the shape of a hand spanning a third of the page. Breathing out once and inhaling deeply, Marvolo set his own hand on it. They were precisely the same size. The hand gripped his own and pulled. With an unpleasant sensation too similar to side-along apparation for his comfort, he fell into the book, into the space between the two sides of a page.
He found himself back at Wools, sitting outside on the highest ledge of a creaky fire escape. Too shaky for the other children to climb up, it was one of his safe places at the orphanage he spent so much of his childhood at. He stared at the other occupant of the refuge, identical to himself but dressed in the idealized muggle clothing he’d always seen on wealthy businessmen and wished he could afford. He had to admit, he looked good in them. He'd always known that he would.
One self smirked to another. The other quirked an eye right back.
"I wasn't quite certain that would work."
"We are charting untested waters."
"To the limits, and beyond."
Marvolo nodded. "Nice place you've got in here."
"Could be better. Rodent isn't a very strong protein. Dragon's blood would serve well."
Despite his wish to one-up Professor Dumbledore, whose research on the uses of dragon's blood had recently made headlines, this undiscovered use of it was something Marvolo would never publish.
"I'm sure I can get some from Slughorn." It wouldn't even take much effort.
"I could build more of the landscape with it. Whole cities even."
Marvolo looked around. The scenery blurred together even just a few feet away. He looked back to his other self, keeping his gaze within their ledge so he could push a mild touch of vertigo away.
"Why here? Why not Hogwarts?"
"I relived everything since we were born. Hogwarts was chaos amid a tempest, but this spot was a recurring refuge of calm where I could sit and think and sort things out."
"Did you discover anything we did not already know?"
"Watching everything while knowing how things turned out? Only that muggles are horrible people."
Marvolo nodded. "We've known that for years."
"But also that wizards are no better."
"Grindelwald may have the right of it."
"Possibly. Or he might be the worst of the lot."
"Dumbledore stands against him. That's almost an endorsement."
His other self chuckled. The brief smile looked far too good. For a moment, Marvolo pondered just what he'd be willing to do to see that smile again. Just as quickly, he thought of the legion of witches who fawned all over him. Perhaps an occasional brief such smile might bind them more deeply into owing him favors. Quite a few wizards circled in his court as well, especially among Slytherins, who held the Gaunt family legacy as the Founder's line in high esteem. Perhaps it was time he learned new methods of motivating people.
Yes. He'd been absolutely correct that visiting his other self was a brilliant idea. Seeing himself the way others saw him was utterly fascinating. He could watch himself sit on the ledge, gracefully flicking pebbles into the void, forever. He wondered how his other self would look walking. Or dancing. Or sitting bent over, engrossed in a book. He understood now just why so many people gathered around him. It wasn't just that he was a founder's heir. It was himself, for his own sake. He was truly gorgeous. His other self was proof of that.
"I can't hold this together much longer."
"I'll have another mouse as soon as I step out."
"That will help."
"But dragon's blood will help more."
His other self nodded.
"Old Slughorn won't know what hit him."
His other self nodded again and held up a hand, palm outward. When Marvolo pressed his palm to it, he felt a brilliant warmth pass through him. Then his other self pushed, and he felt that side-along sensation again.
Marvolo fell out of the diary and shook himself off, once again in his chair at his desk. Once again, he felt the greatest awe for magic, for the possibilities, and for his own brilliance in pushing the limits as far as they could go.
A glance in the mirror reminded him of looking at his other self sitting on the ledge, and he smirked to himself, thinking of all the witches who’d spent the last couple of years trying to get him to go walking with them through Hogsmeade. Of course they wanted him. He was utterly desirable. He was the only one worth desiring, and the only one worth his time. He didn’t need girls. He didn’t need anyone. He closed the diary carefully and caressed the cover gently.
He had everything he needed in the palm of his hand.