Harry Potter and the Sorceress of the Stars

"I've never made one myself," said Morgan, "since the alteration of one's soul is the height of stupidity."

Here, Morgan paused and gave Oleandra a meaningful stare, before resuming her explanation.

"Essentially, the point of a Horcrux is to subject one's soul to such trauma that it splits in two. The scrap of detached soul is then magically bound to an object, which serves to anchor the rest of the soul to this world, the world of the living— essentially making one unkillable, since a soul can't move on if there's a piece of it left behind."

The Dark magic of Horcruxes would certainly explain Voldemort's miraculous survival and subsequent rebirth, which meant that…

"Voldemort," whispered Oleandra, quiet fury growing within her. "He must have been the one, there's no other explanation— he took Daphne with him from Malfoy Manor."

When Oleandra had escaped Malfoy Manor in the early months of summer, the only family members she'd managed to save had been her younger sister Astoria and her mother Iris— her father Maxwell and twin sister Daphne had been nowhere to be found.

"Normally, one would use an inanimate object as an anchor before attempting to revive," Morgan commented. "A Horcrux can take a life of its own, but even though it would share some memories with the original, it would remain a completely separate being from the original— which would in no shape or form represent a true revival."

"That's not to say that the original caster couldn't revive from death using a living Horcrux— it's just that it would be unnecessarily risky. A living Horcrux remains subservient to the original, but having a second self running around just means twice as many chances of getting permanently killed."

"But Daphne is still Daphne, isn't she?" Oleandra asked desperately. "Until the foreign soul devours her, she'll still be herself, right? How would you go about removing something like that?"

There had to be some way of removing the parasitic soul, Oleandra knew it in her heart of hearts. The answer was there, she was sure of it— but in the moment, she couldn't think of anything.

"To my knowledge, such a thing has never been done, but there is still a way out for your sister," said Morgan offhandedly. "The soul shard within a Horcrux cannot survive without a container— kill Daphne, and the foreign soul will be destroyed. Considering what your sister must be going through, it would be a mercy."

Oleandra thought back to the future she had prophesised. By the end of this school year, each one of them would be dead— Oleandra herself, Daphne, Tracey and Draco. This would account for Daphne's death, but what about the rest of them…?

No! She refused to accept such a line of thought!

"No," said Oleandra firmly. "That's out of the question. There must be another way."

Morgan absentmindedly checked Mai's wristwatch.

"Dumbledore," said Oleandra after a while. "He's supposed to be the greatest Wizard in history after Merlin, so if I were to explain everything, he'd surely have some idea of what to do…"

"How would you explain knowing about Horcruxes?" said Morgan. "Besides, what exactly do you think Dumbledore would do with this information, realistically?"

Morgan's words gave Oleandra pause— there was nobody who had fought harder against Voldemort than Dumbledore. If there was any chance that Britain's Dark Lord might live forever, what lengths wouldn't Dumbledore go to in order to stop Lord Voldemort's designs for immortality?

And hang on— if Voldemort had cheated death already, then didn't that mean he had more than just one Horcrux?

"There are many things about Dumbledore you don't know," said Morgan enigmatically. "Mark my words: that man would do whatever's necessary in a heartbeat— no matter how distasteful."

Oleandra looked deep into the young girl's eyes and saw only truth— and then Morgan blinked, and her expression subtly softened— she had relinquished control of Mai's body back to its rightful owner.

Had Oleandra not been so concerned about her sister's fate, she would have doubtlessly noticed the ease with which Morgan had piloted Mai's body. Whenever Viviane had taken the reins of Oleandra's body in the past, she had always had great trouble making it move as she wished, unused to a living body…

"If there's nothing else, we should head back to the Great Hall," said Mai, checking her wristwatch. "Your sister will get suspicious if we take too long."

And so, Oleandra trudged back to the Great Hall and slumped into her seat, deep in contemplation. She didn't dare meet Daphne's eyes— for she was now certain that Daphne was the Dark Lady from her very own prophecy.

"Are you okay, Oleandra?" asked Tracey worriedly. "You seem under the weather."

"I just have a lot on my mind," said Oleandra automatically. "Wait— Tracey!?"

Oleandra looked up from her plate, her eyes wide as saucers— Tracey Davis was sitting right there in front of her in her usual seat, acting as if she'd never left in the first place. Tracey reached for a plate of roast lamb, but just as she was about to pour some gravy onto her serving, every single item of food in the hall Vanished.

"Oh," said Tracey in dismay, her face the very image of disappointment. "My lamb…"

And the very next instant, dessert appeared on the plates in the middle of the table— chocolate fondant cake, apple crumble, custard pudding, treacle tarts… and naturally, key lime pie for Daphne.

"We were so worried, Tracey!" Oleandra exclaimed. "What happened to you!?"

"At leasht lemme get a bite or two in," Tracey mumbled through a mouthful of cake. "I'm shtarving— haven't eaten in daysh."

Oleandra impatiently waited for Tracey to polish off a slice of cake, and then two bowls of pudding, before finally repeating her question.

"Well, it's a long story," said Tracey at last, wiping her mouth with a tablecloth. "It all started when I was ambushed in the middle of the night at Florian Fortescue's…"

Tracey then recounted everything that had happened to her, but as she was about to finish her story, she was interrupted by the sudden disappearance of the desserts, signalling the conclusion of the Start-of-Term Feast and the start of another speech from Dumbledore.

"The very best of evenings to you!" said Dumbledore, standing up from his seat at the staff table and spreading his arms wide. "To our new students, welcome! And to our old students, welcome back!"

"Some welcome," grumbled Mai, who had squeezed herself between Tracey and Theo. "There's barely enough room to sit!"