Hogwarts: Atypical Slytherin

"Let him die!" Ron's face burst into pure white light, "Okay, even though he should be full of evil, no one wants to hear such screams, right?"

Tom Riddle's eyes rolled with difficulty, his face full of disbelief at this inexplicable statement, but he did not have the extra energy to correct this traitor to the pure-blood family.

The red-haired, freckle-faced, yelling and needy Gryffindor must be another Weasley.

"I didn't expect you to be a great saint! Ron!" Miss Albert clapped her hands in surprise, seeming to have forgotten that she was wearing leather gloves. Because of her movements, the black gloves of unknown material made a muffled sound. The clinking sound.

"Is this a normal reaction for a person?" Ron looked around at the eyes staring at him intently, his tone finally filled with uncertainty, "Isn't it?"

"Normally when we think a person is suffering..." Harry answered his good brother with difficulty, "we want him to be out of pain."

"Isn't a peaceful death a better ending than a painful death?"

"You are absolutely right, Ron." Miss Albert's eyes flashed with a dark light, "You are absolutely right."

The arrogant, young Tom Riddle, who had not yet become the Dark Lord, died dramatically in his own hands in the secret room - the basilisk was just his killing tool, and in a legal sense, he was the murderer. The principal criminal with the intention of killing, and he himself died painfully at the hands of the basilisk precisely because of this intention.

This is really a painting style full of magical fables.

Tom Riddle struggled, and as his diary spurted out ink, it was finally dissolved completely by unknown things. After his screams disappeared, the secret room fell into deathly silence.

Perhaps there are other sounds, such as the hissing of a snake.

Shasha lowered her head helplessly, subconsciously looking for the only human being present who could understand her words. But soon, her movements were interrupted by another voice.

"Please close your eyes, Shasha," the voice said. "If he looks directly at you, he might get hurt."

"Injured?" Harry said, "Wouldn't it be possible to die if a basilisk looked directly at it?"

"Have you forgotten the glasses I gave you?" Cloney laughed, "After improvement, in this case, you are observing things again through the mirror."

"What were you just talking about?" Ron pointed tremblingly at the hard-cover diary on the ground. The carrier that had lost its carrier no longer had any resistance. It was now as fragile as an ordinary notebook. The diary was soaked with the basilisk's saliva and the black ink that spewed out from him, and no trace of its original appearance could be seen. "Is this the end?"

"It's over." Clooney replied firmly against the children's gaze, "This matter is over."

"Did he die?" said Harry. "Did I kill him?"

"To be precise, he killed himself." Clooney couldn't help but laugh again, not showing the slightest sign of losing a friend who seemed to completely fit her definition of a friend, "When a person wants to When he was about to raise the butcher's knife, he had already thought that one day he would be led to the end by the same butcher's knife."

"This is the answer Tom Riddle got in the face of his fate."