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Slughorn's face crumpled and Harry found himself remembering words he had heard nearly two years before: "I was ripped from my body, I was less than spirit, less than the meanest ghost. . . but still, I was alive." "... few would want it, Tom, very few. Death would be preferable." But Riddle's hunger was now apparent; his expression was greedy, he could no longer hide his longing.
"How do you split your soul." "Well," said Slughorn uncomfortably, "you must understand that the soul is supposed to remain intact and whole. Splitting n it I an act of violation, it is against nature." "But how do you do it." "By an act of evil — the supreme act of evil. By commiting murder. Killing rips the soul apart. The wizard intent upon creating a Horcrux would use the damage to his advantage: He would encase the torn portion —" "Encase. But how — ." "There is a spell, do not ask me, I don't know!" said Slughoin shaking his head like an old elephant bothered by mosquitoes. " Do I look as though I have tried it — do I look like a killer." "No, sir, of course not," said Riddle quickly. "I'm sorry ... I didn't mean to offend . . ." "Not at all, not at all, not offended," said Slughorn gruffly, "It is natural to feel some curiosity about these things. . . . Wizards of a certain caliber have always been drawn to that aspect of magic. . . ."
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