[Main HP Comprehensive British-American] Lolita

"...Anyway, I just brought it here to tell you guys about it."

"Uh, what's wrong with the Minister of Magic's visit?" Lily asked in confusion. In the Muggle world, it is normal for government officials to go to local schools for inspections and visits.

"This is Hogwarts, the only wizarding school in England," Snape replied.

"Imagine," Dolores continued, "if you were an official of the Ministry of Magic, what would you do to this person if you were an institution that had a monopoly on the education of underage wizards, and the leader of that institution was very prestigious. speculation?"

"They regard Headmaster Dumbledore as a threat. After all, the fruit of power is sweet in their own hands." Edwin said softly, while gently touching Angela's hair, which was still innocent.

Dolores snorted: "And they let Voldemort expand."

"That lord is certainly remarkable." Snape seemed displeased with Dolores' reference to Voldemort.

Seeing that the atmosphere began to deteriorate, Edwin quickly said, "Let's start sorting out the materials, Dolores will hand in the paper tomorrow."

alchemy.

If ancient alchemy is evaluated as occult, then modern alchemy has gradually evolved into a real science. A hundred years ago, there were poems or paintings with subtle metaphors circulating among alchemists. The death of a baby symbolized forging, while the rose represented the ultimate truth - the stone of the wise. These poems seem vague, but when you can read the metaphors, they become a forging guide.

Modern alchemy, however, abandoned all flashy metaphors and began to evolve into a more rigorous science. This change can refer to the evolution of herbal medicine in the Middle Ages to modern medicine in the Muggle world, from belief in mystical powers to decomposing things into a logical and rational study.

The only constant is—

"The only constant is the pursuit of truth." Voldemort read the last sentence of Dolores' paper, his tone erratic, then raised his head, "How do you define truth, and how do you understand it?"

"Truth is law, the ultimate interpretation of how the world works."

"No," his voice whispered, "truth is the key that allows us to change the world, even create it. Don't you agree?"

"Forgive my professor, but yes, I don't agree. People have weaknesses, and they can't and shouldn't be delusional about becoming gods." Dolores said, looking Voldemort in the eyes, for the first time since their reunion Looking directly into his eyes, it was also the first time that he forgot all his guilty conscience, leaving only firmness.

Voldemort chuckled. "Miss Rogers is very interesting. You are welcome to chat in my office anytime."

Flowers are already blooming in Stark Manor in early spring, but maintaining such a prosperous scene requires a steady stream of magic and expensive special flower seeds.

Victoria stood in the corner of the garden and looked up just enough to see her father's study. Voldemort was standing by the window, wearing a low-key black robe, standing tall and holding a thick glass of whisky in his hand.

"Lucy," Victoria said suddenly to the maid standing beside her, "what do you think of him?"

Lucy lowered her head in fear, not daring to answer.

"Why didn't you speak?" Victoria's voice was soft but sullen. "If you were so timid, why did you dare to look at him with your eyes just now? That's me, my, east, west."

No one would have thought that Victoria Stark grew up with the maid's child.

Anna Moss was the most beautiful maid in the manor. The only fly in the ointment was that she had a daughter whose father was unknown, Lucy. Lucy wasn't even given a surname because of her father's disappearance.

After the death of Victoria's mother, Anna began to call herself the hostess of the manor. Similarly, Lucy was also raised to be arrogant.

"Let's see what this little **** is up to?" Lucy laughed as she yanked Victoria out of the bushes where she was hiding.

"I'm not a little bastard!" she argued loudly.

"You are! You don't even have a mother!" Lucy pushed her to the ground violently.

Victoria wanted to fight back, wanted to tell Lucy that she didn't have a father either, but the words were swallowed again. There were rumors in the manor that Lucy's father was actually Joshua Stark, otherwise how could he tolerate the mother and daughter not taking Victoria in the slightest?

"What's this?" Lucy tugged at her hair and looked at the emerald earrings on her ears.

Lucy almost looked at the fan, and the bright green looked especially good on Victoria's fair ears. Although her mother repeatedly warned herself not to let Victoria suffer obvious injuries, she still couldn't hold back and accidentally scratched Victoria's ear when snatching the earrings.

"It's mine!" Victoria shouted, covering her bleeding earlobe.

"It's mine now." Lucy opened her hand proudly, and the beautiful emerald was shining brightly from the reflection of the sun.

Victoria had expected her father to come to her rescue, but he did not. Maybe her father was too busy to notice, she thought. So she tried to ask him for help again, but she ushered in failure again, because when she was with her father, Anna was almost inseparable from her, and fear prevented her from speaking.

No one is going to save her, as five-year-old Victoria learned.

Her last call for help was to break into her father's study while Anna was away. It was the first time she had seen the man, with black hair and black eyes, sitting by the burning fire, and his father called him Tom.

"Father," she cried, ecstasy flooding her head, one more time, one more second, and she'd be saved—

"Lord Stark," Anna's voice came from behind her, and she lost her only chance in an instant, "I'm sorry, I'll take this child away immediately."

She was stunned to see her father nod impatiently, despair overwhelmed her, and she even forgot to struggle.

"I heard that a newly developed evergreen flower has been planted here recently? Although it can keep the flower unbeaten, be careful of its leaves." Tom Riddle said suddenly.

—Finally, five-year-old Victoria waited for her savior.

"What's the matter, Lucy?" Victoria said kindly. "You look unwilling, have you forgotten your poor mother?"

Revenge begins when she learns the secret of the flower that never withers. A month later, Anna Moss fell ill, paralyzed by a sudden illness, and Lucy had to start working for Stark Manor to support her ailing mother.

Lucy, who lost Anna's support, was powerless in the face of Victoria's increasingly strong attitude. The positions of the two girls were instantly switched. This time, Lucy became the desperate fish on the chopping block.

Lucy had tried to find evidence that Victoria had poisoned her mother, but to no avail, who would remember a word from the chat? Even Anna herself has no memory, no clues. She also turned to the other servants for help, and they were as indifferent as when she had bullied Victoria, ignoring her pleas as well.

Finally, everything Victoria suffered came back to Lucy.

The year she got rid of Anna's mother and daughter, Victoria herself planted an apple tree in the corner of the garden, which was hers, from start to finish.

She hasn't seen that person since the age of five, the one who brought her a dignified life in one sentence. Until the apple tree grew taller and began to harvest fruit every autumn, until her hair grew longer and she became a fourteen-year-old girl—

It's a boring party. Joshua, who had been missing for three months, finally returned, and the manor that re-owned the manor held the first dance of the year.

Victoria slipped away from the hall adorned with blooming camellias, and, having toured the apple trees, idly tipped her back into the huge fountain in the center of the garden, the water running across her skin and giving her a chill on an early spring night.

When she was sitting on the edge of the fountain just wringing the corner of the dripping skirt, a man appeared, with black hair, black eyes, and a handsome face, it was that person.

So she couldn't help but say, "What are you looking for, sir?"

The man looked at her and didn't say anything.

"Sir?" she repeated, her heart beating faster and faster, almost unable to maintain her apparent calm.

"I know you, Victoria."

The man's low voice seemed like the spark of a match on a cold spring night, and her whole body trembled, delighted, and at a loss.

O my savior, my Messiah.