The story you are about to read was considered “lost”-and still is. It is a story that few people have ever been told, and therefore, few people remember. Perhaps that is just as well”for it is a story about one man’s pain, and the unbelievable amount of people who shared in it. To forget it would be considered, by some, a sin”and by the man in question, a blessing.
One more reason it should never be forgotten; when this story is no longer remembered, no one will ever be able to realize the horrors that can be done by one of the Darkest objects ever created”the Pensieve.
~*~
Two men met at Hogwarts, and moved into Diagon Alley soon after they graduated. One of them, Samuel Visser, owned a fairly successful potion shop”the other, Ben Lee, worked Florean Fortescue, and was, in fact, Fortescue’s favorite. People would wait in lines that went past other shops to try Lee’s black raspberry chip ice cream with hot fudge. Both were very successful in their careers, but Visser was, doubtlessly, doing much better. They both lived underneath the potion shop, which was surprisingly quite large and comfortable.
One ordinary day, Lee took a break to visit the shop next door to Fortescue’s. There, he saw Visser, ladling out steaming cups of a black potion to a crowd of eager customers.
“Ladies and gentlemen, one spoonful of this will make you live one full hour longer, in exchange for one hour of unconscious rest of your lifetime, which will immediately begin when you have taken the potion. Note that this should not be taken more than twice in your lifetime, as it will result in a coma for substantial amount of time, and a permanent headache. Other side effects include dizziness, lightheadedness, vomiting, and uncontrollable twitching.”
It was said that black raspberry chip was the ice cream of the heavens, but Lee could not, for the life of him, figure out how Visser accomplished this potion.
He was now taking orders, but soon slipped away when he caught sight of Lee at the doorway.
“How did you do it?” asked Lee, astounded.
“Eh, research. It really didn’t take that long.”
“What? You just accomplished a breakthrough, and you seem kind of…I dunno…”
“Well…” Visser paused. “Well…”
“Well what?”
“It wasn’t that hard.”
Ben stared at Visser, who was not showing any signs of modesty. He was deep in concentration.
“It’s just a gimmick, you know, it’s nothing that would really help me. Tell you what, I’ll show you when we get home.”
They got home. Visser took out a massive volume, entitled Horcruxes.
“Horcruxes. Never heard of them.”
“That’s because it’s a new concept. This book hasn’t even been published. It’s from an old friend of mine.”
Ben glanced at the author. “Sharp?” He was disgusted. “You’re still working with Ian Sharp?”
“Not working with, just um…keep…keeping in touch,” he answered sheepishly. “He wants to know how well this book will do on the market.”
“And what did you say to him?”
“I said to him, if he wanted his book to do well, he would have to get rid of the wordy details. It’s way too long.” He seemed proud of himself.
“And…?”
“And what?”
“Is that true?”
“Of course not.”
Ben stared at him.
“Oh come on, if he gave all the details to the public, they would have access to things they don’t deserve. Besides, we would be able to use the things the rest of the world will not be able to. The content in this book should only be kept to the people who would not abuse it.”
“And what’s this book about, anyway?” Ben asked in anger. “What…are…Horcruxes?”
“They make you immortal,” Visser answered simply.
Ben looked at him with disgust. “I’m going to bed,” he declared. He stormed in the opposite direction, leaving Visser alone with the book.
Early the next morning, Visser approached Ben very eagerly (and very quickly).
“BEN! BEN!” he shouted. “Get your wand out!”
Ben obliged, and stared at Visser, who was sweating and panting, and holding a broken clock and a cracked bottle. “Point it at this!” Visser said, indicating the clock.
Ben obeyed. Visser then ordered Ben to “Repeat after me”Attero Animus.”
“Attero Animus?”
Ben felt his whole body be sucked toward the broken clock, and felt a sudden jolt of pain. He wanted to scream, but didn’t know if it would come out. The lights seemed to dim, but the clock seemed to glow, almost as brightly than Visser’s face.
But it ended quickly enough. Ben felt weak, but angrier than he had ever been in his life.
“WHAT DID YOU DO?”
Visser handed him the clock. “That’s your Horcrux. You can’t die unless that clock is destroyed.”
“Destroyed? You wouldn’t call that clock already destroyed?”
But Visser was running excitedly toward his room, holding the Potions bottle as if it were his mother.
Ben could barely make out his reflection in the clock. The clock, though still cracked, looked polished and almost brand new. Ben was pale.