51 Guided Speculation

The chill of the Death Chamber seeped into Lucas's bones as he stood before the Veil, the tattered black curtain fluttering in an unseen breeze. The room was dimly lit, with towering stone walls and a sunken pit in the center, where a raised dais supported the ancient archway. Eerie whispers seemed to emanate from the Veil, the voices of the dead beckoning to those who dared to listen.

Dumbledore and the Unspeakables surrounded Lucas, their wands held at the ready. The Unspeakables wore long, black robes with hoods obscuring their faces, giving them an air of mystery and anonymity. Dumbledore, in contrast, was clad in his usual vibrant robes, today a deep purple with silver stars. His long, white beard and half-moon spectacles were unmistakable, but his usual twinkle was absent, replaced by a serious look.

In Lucas's hands, the pulsing glass sphere containing Voldemort's fractured soul emitted an eerie, sickly green light. When his fingers brushed the sphere's cool surface, Voldemort's agonized scream pierced the air, the sacrificial magic of Lily Potter repelling the dark wizard's essence.

"It seems the protection your mother left upon you is still strong, Harry," Dumbledore remarked as his voice echoed in the cavernous chamber.

Lucas nodded. He knew what had to be done, even if it was just a façade and wasn't going to work. "Let's end this, Professor."

With a resolute stride, Lucas approached the Veil. He drew back his arm, the sphere clutched tightly in his hand. "Goodbye, Voldemort," he whispered, before hurling the sphere toward the rippling curtain.

The sphere sailed through the air, Voldemort's enraged screams trailing in its wake. It passed smoothly through the Veil, and for a moment, a heavy silence descended upon the chamber.

But the reprieve was short-lived. Suddenly, Voldemort's essence burst back through the Veil, a roiling mass of dark mist and malevolent energy. It rushed straight at Lucas, seeking to possess the boy who had once been its downfall.

Voldemort's spirit collided with Lucas, but the young wizard stood firm, knowing that Voldemort was very weak right now. The sacrificial magic within him fought to repel the invader, and Voldemort's agonized screams filled the air once more. But the protection seemed weakened, unable to completely repel the dark lord. The wraith's dark essence wormed its way into the edges of Lucas's consciousness, probing for a way to take control.

Even as the confrontation raged in the Death Chamber, an echo of its implications spread through another mysterious room within the Department of Mysteries...

The Love Chamber lay silent and empty, but was bathed in a soft, pulsing pink glow that emanated from the heart-shaped patterns adorning the walls and floor. In the center stood a raised dais, upon which rested a shallow, circular basin filled with a swirling pink-red liquid.

As Voldemort's essence collided with Lucas in the Death Chamber, the Love Chamber reacted subtly. The gentle illumination dimmed ever so slightly, as if sensing an incompleteness in the love magic that had once protected the soul, mind and body of Harry Potter from the dark lord. The surface of the liquid within the basin rippled, tiny concentric circles spreading outwards from the center.

For a fleeting moment, indistinct images seemed to form within the depths of the swirling liquid. A busy street materialized, towering skyscrapers stretching upwards as people strolled along the sidewalks, many with phones pressed to their ears or eyes glued to the small, glowing screens before them.

Then, as quickly as it had appeared, the vision faded, leaving only the softly glowing liquid. The dim pink light pulsed steadily once more, as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

Within the vast sea of his mindscape, Lucas sneered at Voldemort's intrusion. The dark wizard was a mere shadow of his former power, weakened by his own folly. Lucas had the advantage here, in the realm of his own mind.

Voldemort's spectral form appeared in the sky above the endless sea of tranquil waters, a twisted, serpentine face with glowing red eyes. The wraith lunged forward, attempting to pierce through the surface of the vast sea, but the water surged up in an instantaneous defensive wall, blocking Voldemort's attempt to pierce through.

Focusing his intent and will, Lucas summoned the Elemental Tornado directly within his own mind. Four powerful currents began to take shape, each representing an elemental force: air, water, earth, and fire. The air current manifested as a swirling storm, gathering strength above the vast sea. The water current surged alongside it, a mighty swell ready to carry his spell forward. Beneath the sea, the earth current stirred, sand and rock swirling in a controlled vortex. And finally, the fire current ignited, a pulsating core of heat and light emerging from the sun.

Lucas merged the four currents into one and with a decisive will, he unleashed the spell. The gale burst forth, infused with the momentum of water, the solidity of earth, and the searing heat of fire. The tornado engulfed Voldemort's wraith-like form, tearing at his essence with unbridled power.

Voldemort's screams filled the sky of Lucas's mindscape as his spectral body remained trapped within the raging tornado. Seconds ticked by—five, ten, thirty—but despite the dark lord's agony, he remained unbroken.

An unamused exhalation came from Lucas. This wasn't working, the horcruxes would maintain Voldemort no matter what. Maintaining the tornado's fury, he opened his eyes to the Death Chamber once more.

"I am Harry Potter, not Voldemort," Lucas declared with a steady voice despite the battle raging within. "Voldemort tried to possess me, but I have him contained within my Occlumency shields."

Dumbledore's shoulders relaxed slightly, but his wand remained raised. "Mr. Potter is a natural Occlumens," he explained to the wary Unspeakables. "This is indeed possible."

Lucas met Dumbledore's gaze. "I can repel Voldemort at any time. Please be prepared to contain him."

Dumbledore nodded as he cast an unknown spell with his wand. A new sphere was conjured, ready to imprison the dark lord once more. "If it's possible, Harry, try to direct Voldemort toward this sphere."

Within his mindscape, Lucas focused on the Elemental Tornado, constricting it tighter and tighter around Voldemort's writhing form. The pressure built, the elemental forces straining against their bonds. With a final, decisive release, Lucas expelled Voldemort from his mind, hurling the dark wizard directly toward Dumbledore's waiting trap.

Voldemort's spectral body, dazed and screaming, flew from Lucas's body and into the sphere. The containment snapped shut, trapping the dark lord once more.

Dumbledore's shoulders slumped, the usual twinkle absent from Dumbledore's eyes as the blue orbs clouded with weariness and disappointment. The sound of his regretful sigh filled the chamber. "My dear boy..." His voice trailed off, cracking ever so slightly with remorse. "I'm so sorry you had to experience such an awful thing."

Sighing once more, he then turned to the Unspeakables. "It seems we must keep Voldemort contained until we can find a more permanent solution."

The tense silence in the Death Chamber was broken when Lucas spoke up as his voice disturbed the eerie whispers coming from the Veil. "Headmaster, I've read stories in the Muggle world about dark wizards, specifically skeletal liches, who use something called a phylactery to house their souls. It keeps them protected from true death, no matter what happens to their physical forms."

One of the Unspeakables recoiled, the sneer audible in their muffled rasp. "Muggle fairy tales?" They gave a derisive snort, head shaking beneath the concealing cowl. "Filled with nothing but nonsense and inaccuracies about our world, boy."

Lucas held up a hand with a serious expression. "I understand, but consider this: Voldemort was supposed to have died ten years ago when the Killing Curse rebounded on him. Yet, here he is, his essence repelled by the Veil, which you told me is meant to be a gateway to the afterlife. It makes me wonder if he has something akin to a phylactery, housing his soul, or at least part of it considering he's here now, to anchor him to this world."

Dumbledore, who had been deep in thought, stilled at Lucas's words. A flicker of realization crossed the aged wizard's face as the pieces fell into place. His eyes widened in horror as he muttered a single word: "Horcrux..."

At the utterance of that cursed term, Voldemort's raging form within the sphere froze for the briefest of moments before resuming its manic thrashing. But Dumbledore had noticed, and he shook his head in disgust.

"Horcruxes are among the foulest perversions of soul magic," Dumbledore said with revulsion clear in his voice. "Even the darkest of wizards would never create a Horcrux, for it would pervert and weaken your soul. To split one's soul through the act of cold-blooded murder…" He trailed off.

The Unspeakables shifted uneasily as their hooded faces turned toward Dumbledore. The implication hung in the air and the horrible realization dawned on them all. If Voldemort had created such a Horcrux, it would explain his unnatural tether to life, his ability to linger on as a mere wraith when his body had been destroyed.

"If Voldemort has made a Horcrux," Lucas said carefully, "then it stands to reason he may have made more than one. A precaution, in case the first was discovered and destroyed."

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "You are wise beyond your years, Harry. And I fear you may be correct. If Voldemort has sundered his soul, he may have done so multiple times, creating numerous anchors to this world."

One of the Unspeakables, their face still obscured by the deep cowl, spoke up in a raspy voice. "The implications are...disturbing, to say the least. If the Dark Lord has really anchored his soul, it could make him unkillable by conventional means."

"Precisely," Dumbledore replied grimly. "And if Harry is correct that Voldemort created multiple Horcruxes as safeguards..." He trailed off, leaving the dire consequences unspoken but understood by all.

Lucas's features remained an inscrutable mask as he watched his plan take effect, not a sign of the satisfaction he felt betrayed on his stoic face. The reincarnated man knew Dumbledore would eventually deduce the existence of Horcruxes—it was simply a matter of providing the right nudge at the opportune moment.

"What's to be done then?" another Unspeakable asked. "If the Dark Lord cannot be killed, how are we to stop him should he return to power?"

Dumbledore's gaze turned resolute. "We must uncover Voldemort's Horcruxes and destroy them, though he would have concealed them cunningly." His eyes swept the assembled Unspeakables, letting the weight of those words sink in before adding, "I will pursue any leads. We cannot allow his tainted soul to endure."

A heavy sigh escaped Dumbledore's lips. "I would've suggested we attempt the Dementor's Kiss, but I do not feel comfortable suggesting that course of action now. It's very probable that Voldemort built at least one Horcrux, and I do not know how a Horcrux will react if Voldemort is given the Dementor's Kiss. Will it revive him? Or will it forcibly drag his spirit away once inside of the Dementor? I do not know, so we cannot risk it."

Lucas, however, remained outwardly composed. He had known this would come, had planned for it, even. And now, with Dumbledore and the Ministry fully aware of the Horcrux threat, the game could truly begin.

"If I may, Headmaster," Lucas spoke up. "Perhaps we should consider the possibility that Voldemort may have chosen objects of significant value or meaning to house his Horcruxes."

Dumbledore's piercing gaze fixed on the young wizard, curiosity clear in his eyes. "Go on, Harry."

Lucas nodded, choosing his words carefully. "From what I understand from the history books I read, Voldemort has an obsession with pure-blood supremacy and a deep reverence for Salazar Slytherin." He paused, letting the implication sink in. "It stands to reason that he may have chosen artifacts or relics connected to Slytherin, or to his own twisted ideology, as vessels for his Horcruxes."

"A valid hypothesis, Harry," Dumbledore said after stroking his long beard while deep in thought. "Voldemort's arrogance and sense of self-importance would indeed lead him to choose objects of great significance, both personal and historical, to house fragments of his soul." His gaze sharpened. "If this is true, then we must begin our search among the relics and artifacts associated with the founders, as well as any items or locations that hold particular meaning to Voldemort himself."

"But how?" One Unspeakable's muffled voice gave voice to the daunting reality. "Voldemort's life is a mystery, the founders' relics scattered. Locating every potential Horcrux could consume decades."

Dumbledore raised a hand. "I understand your concerns. This task will not be easy, nor will it be swift. But we must try. For if we do not, we risk allowing Voldemort's dark legacy to endure, his twisted soul forever anchored to this world." 

The Unspeakables fell silent, their hooded heads bowing in acknowledgment of the gravity of the situation.

Dumbledore turned to address the group once more. "We must bring in the Aurors to aid in this investigation. Prepare all resources and historical records we have on artifacts tied to the Hogwarts founders and Voldemort himself. I will convene with Amelia Bones to assemble an elite team focused solely on uncovering these Horcruxes."

The old wizard glanced at Lucas. "As for you, you have had quite an ordeal this evening. We shall return to Hogwarts so you can rest. You have your first classes tomorrow after all."