Three weeks after returning to Hogwarts, Dean made a discovery that changed everything.
He was in the Room of Requirement, a space he'd learned about from Harry's memories, when he found a book on soul magic that seemed to appear specifically for him. It was old, bound in what looked like dragon skin, and filled with techniques for integrating fragmented souls.
The book described exactly what Dean needed: a method for safely absorbing a Horcrux without being consumed by it.
The ritual required preparation, magical components, and absolute focus. But more importantly, it required Dean to willingly open himself to the Horcrux's power and then forcibly integrate it into his own consciousness.
He spent the next week gathering materials. Basilisk venom. Phoenix tears. Powdered moonstone. Ingredients that were restricted, dangerous, and nearly impossible to obtain.
But Dean was resourceful. He'd learned in his previous life how to find what he needed, how to navigate systems and convince people to help him without realizing what they were doing. A few careful words to Hagrid about his studies. A well-placed note in Dumbledore's office suggesting that Harry was researching defensive magic. A quiet conversation with a house-elf who was sympathetic to his cause.
By the end of the week, he had everything he needed.
The ritual took place in the Room of Requirement, behind layers of protective wards that Dean had learned to create. He sat in the center of a complex magical circle, his wand in one hand, a goblet of prepared ingredients in the other.
Then he began.
The ritual was agony. As Dean drank the mixture, he felt the Horcrux's consciousness rise up, trying to assert dominance over his mind. It was like being invaded by another person, another will trying to override his own.
But Dean had spent weeks preparing for this. He'd built mental walls, created compartments where he could contain the invading consciousness. And as the Horcrux tried to overwhelm him, Dean pushed back.
The battle was entirely internal, a clash of wills that left him gasping and shaking. But gradually, as the ritual continued, Dean felt the Horcrux's consciousness beginning to merge with his own rather than fight him.
It was like absorbing a library of knowledge all at once. Memories that weren't his, experiences from a life he'd never lived, skills and spells and dark knowledge that went far beyond what any student at Hogwarts should know.
And power. So much power.
When the ritual ended, Dean collapsed, unconscious.
He woke hours later, his entire body aching, but fundamentally changed. The Horcrux was no longer a separate entity in his mind. It was integrated, absorbed, part of him. And with it came a surge in his magical ability that was almost overwhelming.
He could feel the power flowing through him like electricity. Spells that would have been impossible before now seemed simple. He could sense magic in the air around him, could feel the wards protecting Hogwarts, could perceive the magical signature of every person in the castle.
And he could feel the other Horcruxes. Six of them, scattered across the country, calling to him like beacons. They wanted to be reunited. They wanted to be whole again.
Dean understood now what he had to do. He had to find them all. And he had to absorb them.
By the time he left the Room of Requirement, night had fallen. He made his way back to Gryffindor Tower, careful to avoid being seen. But as he passed through a corridor, he nearly ran directly into Dumbledore.
The headmaster's blue eyes widened slightly as he looked at Dean, and for a moment, the boy thought he was caught. But then Dumbledore smiled, that familiar gentle smile that concealed so much cunning.
"Harry, my boy. You look well. I trust your studies are progressing?"
"Yes, sir," Dean said, keeping his voice steady. "I've been doing a lot of research."
"Research into what, if I may ask?"
Dean made a quick decision. "Soul magic. I wanted to understand what happened to me during the Tournament. Why I survived when I shouldn't have."
Dumbledore's expression didn't change, but Dean could see the calculation in his eyes. The old man was trying to figure out how much Dean knew, whether he was a threat.
"That's a wise pursuit," Dumbledore said finally. "Understanding one's own nature is the first step toward wisdom. However, I would caution you against delving too deeply into dark magic. There are forces that are better left alone."
"I understand, sir," Dean said.
But he didn't. And he had no intention of following Dumbledore's advice.
As he continued to his dormitory, Dean could feel Dumbledore's eyes on his back. The headmaster suspected something. But he didn't know what. And by the time he figured it out, Dean would be far too powerful to stop.
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