Chapter 736 True Memory

In the dim underground secret room, the black-haired, green-eyed boy in the mirror looked pale, undergoing some subtle changes. When this change exceeded a certain critical point, the face with scars suddenly became unfamiliar.

The gloomy and indifferent man in the mirror also stared at Harry outside the mirror, with a faint smile on his lips. It was a gentle and polite smile, but it made people feel uncomfortable and sinister.

Harry stood in front of the mirror and heard his heart beating. This heartbeat made the secret room even quieter. He quietly hooked his little finger with his right hand hanging by his side. This was a test.

The man in the mirror did not hook his finger, but showed an interesting look, staring straight at Harry outside the mirror, his green eyes slightly shrank, showing a vertical pupil shape, as if seeing a venomous snake prey.

Harry saw his lips move slightly, and he uttered a very light word: "Idiot."

The mirror certainly doesn't make any sound, but Harry heard it. This was not the first time he heard this sound. He had heard it before, more times than he expected.

Memories surged like a tide, and all insignificant sounds were suppressed to the lowest level. Only the sound he heard just now was left, which was exactly the same as the sound in his memory:

When he used Parseltongue to talk to snakes, it was actually him whispering;

When he rushed against the troll on Halloween in his first year, it was him who reminded him;

On the day when he learned the brain block technique to spy on Professor Snape's memory, it was him who helped him control Legilimency;

And when he was exposed to the dark arts, when he was standing on the stage giving a lecture to the D.A....

The sound that he had never paid attention to in the past suddenly became deafening, but it didn't make Harry feel uncomfortable. He had heard it many times and was used to it. In a trance, he even thought that this was his own voice, coming from the inside out, not transmitted to the eardrum through the air, but heard before he spoke it.

The inscription on the top of the Mirror of Erised flashed a dark metallic luster, and the words reflecting the desire in the heart seemed to be read out by someone, a faint whisper in the ear.

"This is not my face, but the deepest desire in my heart." Harry whispered softly, unable to tell whether it was Voldemort's or his own voice, and then silently chanted a spell in his heart.

"Legislatives."

The magic power to spy on the memory did not surge out. As the person in the mirror took off his glasses, the familiar face in the mirror became a little hazy, his eyes began to disperse, difficult to focus, and the scene in the mirror blurred.

In a trance, he saw himself standing in the old Gaunt house. At this time, the house was not completely abandoned, and the shelf pottery jars were still in use. He looked at these clean pottery jars and remembered the witch named Merope Gaunt who died on New Year's Eve in 1926.

In the next room, Morfin Gaunt lay unconscious. He was instilled with memories that did not belong to him, a memory of murdering the Riddle family.

Who did it?

"It seems to be... me?"

This answer seems wrong. Before he can think carefully, the scene in the mirror changes again.

"Knock, knock..."

"Knock, knock..."

It was dark at night. In front of him was an imposing manor. Someone was knocking on the door. The sound was hurried and impatient. There was a dark-skinned witch next to him. She held the wand tightly in her hand, waiting for the middle-aged man to open the door. The wand suddenly emitted a red light...

Just now, that was... Barty Crouch from the Ministry of Magic?

Who murdered him?

Two Death Eaters.

A chaotic thought flashed through his mind, and his vision became hazy again.

After waking up, he was already in the study of the old house at the deepest part of Spinner's End. The light was not dim, but he could not see the face of another wizard in the room. He was explaining the principles of Horcruxes. The knowledge was in his mind, and he could speak it casually.

"The process of making a Horcrux is to split the soul through murder, and take part of the soul out of the body and put it into an object outside the body. This object is the Horcrux. Even if the body is attacked or destroyed, there are still fragments of the soul intact in the world.

"Believe me, the taste of the body being destroyed is not pleasant, Severus..."

He squinted his eyes and looked carefully, and finally saw the appearance in front of him clearly. It was his servant, Severus Snape.

...

"When making a Horcrux, the wizard must first intentionally commit a murder.

"Killing for self-defense or to protect others is not enough. The crime of murder must be committed intentionally and consciously without regret. This is the most evil act, which can split the murderer's soul.

"Wizards who want to make Horcruxes take advantage of this destruction and use a spell to seal the split soul fragments into specific objects. "

Harry in front of the mirror murmured softly.

Loren and Hermione stood in front of the right side of the Mirror of Erised and looked up to see a strange and terrifying scene. The reflection in the mirror was no longer the pale Harry. The face with vertical pupils, no nose and bloodless face was clearly the resurrected Voldemort.

Is this the shadow reflected by the Mirror of Erised based on several objects?

What is Harry doing? Trying to read Voldemort's shadow?

Harry's current state seems to be very wrong?

Loren took a few cautious steps forward, approaching the magic mirror and coming to Harry's side. He gently shook Harry's right hand, and saw that Voldemort in the mirror also shook the hand on the same side, and moved his eyes to stare at himself outside the mirror.

Harry still stood there quietly, his eyes were sluggish and his pupils were out of focus. He murmured about the method of making Horcruxes and occasionally called Severus' name. Voldemort's soul and memory were too heavy. Even if they were just fragments, Harry was breathless and almost lost.

This figure was not a virtual illusion of Eris, but a real reflection.

"Loren..." Hermione lowered her voice. She stared at the mirror seriously and cautiously, and glanced back at the three nervous people behind her, "What should we do now?"

Loren thought for a while. If the second half of today's journey was to find traces of Voldemort, but the first stop was Privet Drive Little Whinging District, it was to find traces of Harry Potter. He had a vague direction in his heart and looked at Harry outside the mirror calmly.

No one was better than him at projecting memory-based illusions through mirrors.

...

"Harry..."

"Harry..."

Someone was calling softly in the vague memory, and it was annoying that he didn't know who was calling.

The duck-like voice during the puberty period was the annoying Dudley Dursley. He carefully identified him and suddenly wondered why he knew this name.

The shouts were getting closer and closer, as if they would push the door open at the next moment.

He subconsciously looked for his wand, wanting to use the killing curse to kill this annoying guy. Even if he couldn't continue to make Horcruxes, at least he could vent his anger.

"Avada..." He chanted the spell softly, and suddenly found that he was standing in a warm and tidy living room at the moment. All the furniture and furnishings were familiar, even including the tiles on the wall and the carpet under his feet.

The overweight young man stood in front of him with a shy look on his face: "Harry, thank you for saving my life."

"..."

He didn't say a word and didn't answer.

"By the way, Harry, happy birthday to you."

Harry was stunned for a moment, and his own memories came surging, the sound of broken glass was crisp and pleasant, and the cracks gradually spread.