[HP] Similar but different

A moment later, in the tent.

Seeing the Soul Resurrection Stone Ring again, Voldemort was a little surprised, but only for a moment.He didn't speak, but looked at Harry questioningly.

Harry had absolutely no idea how to bring up the Soul Slice in the diary, but they couldn't avoid it forever. "You already knew, didn't you?" His throat was hard, as if a lump had suddenly grown in it.

Voldemort leaned on the armrest of the chair, with a vaguely guessing look on his face. "What are you implying, Harry?"

The other party reacted so cautiously that Harry could only take a deep breath. "Diary," he replied, his eyes closely following the man's every move. "The soul-returning stone has no effect on him."

There was a moment of silence in the tent.Occasionally, the night wind blows through the tent, and the fabric flaps, making a bang bang sound, vaguely carrying the cheers of the stadium.The big snake has slipped away to nowhere since it was released from the crystal ball, looking like "I don't want to bother you two anymore".

Voldemort pursed his lips.But contrary to Harry's expectations - he thought it was normal for the Dark Lord to be angry about this - the man didn't react much beyond that.

It wasn't the worst, but it wasn't a good development either, and Harry's heart sank like lead. "How long have you known? After you found out that something happened to the diary, or after you found out that the ring is inlaid with the Soul Resurrection Stone?" He bit his lip and tried to continue asking, "Or, no matter when, you never gave up. Looking for that piece of soul?"

There was another moment of silence.The white candle burned quietly between the two of them, the flame flickered slightly, and the shadow was pulled obliquely to the corner.

"Don't pretend you understand soul magic." Voldemort finally spoke, but he was obviously not cooperative. "Besides, I hope I don't need to say the same thing a second time."

Harry guessed that the man's so-called "same thing" meant not to ask more about things he didn't care about, but... "Who said I don't care?" He argued unconvinced, and after meeting the other's dark and unpredictable eyes Feeling guilty again, the voice of muttering became weaker, "I just didn't find out earlier..."

Voldemort watched Harry intently, as if still trying to figure out Harry's real intentions in bringing up the subject.Finally, he shook his head, looked away, his expression blurred.

The other party didn't make a sound at all, but Harry felt that he was stung by an invisible bee needle, and the pain was violent and sharp, rushing through his limbs, and quickly gathered in his chest—he reckoned that shaking his head was "too late" or " Doesn't help" means, anyway, there is no good possibility.

"You just said that I don't understand soul magic, and I don't deny it." He tried his best to ignore the feeling of suffocation, and asked a little fluke when he asked again, "What about you? Do you know any possible methods?"

But Voldemort obviously didn't intend to discuss this issue in depth with Harry. "I thought you were looking forward to the World Cup," he added, his eyes drifting toward the pitch, "and you're wasting your time here."

Harry could indeed hear the rising and falling sound waves coming from the direction of the field. "I'm not going back," he said emphatically, ignoring Voldemort's rhetoric about wasting time, "if I don't figure this out today."

"Oh?" Voldemort asked lightly back, "Do you really think you can figure out advanced magic in such a short time?"

If Harry ran off the pitch full of desperation and fear, some of them must have been driven into exasperation by the taunting. "I really don't understand!" he roared, "but I want to help you as much as I can, is that wrong?"

This announcement... Voldemort's eyes finally returned to Harry. "You help me?" He slightly emphasized his tone, his expression still unreadable.

But Harry read the sarcasm in the man's reaction.He had killed the piece of soul before, and now he offered to help Voldemort get it back... ironic indeed, his head and shoulders drooping limply. "I don't know how to explain you to believe me," he whispered, frustration welling up from the depths of his body to his throat, and the root of his tongue was bitter, "but you do know that the situation now is completely different from that time, yes Bar?"

He expected to hear an affirmative answer, but there was a moment of silence in the tent, and the embarrassing indifference slowly climbed into his heart like ice crystals spreading everywhere in the severe winter.

But before it was actually frozen, Voldemort finally recovered. "I appreciate you thinking so," he said, his voice unusually gentle. "Go back, Harry."

Harry looked up sharply, smelling hope.However, Voldemort was already up and heading for the door.He could only see half of the man's side face, with indifferent and hard lines.It made him realize that Voldemort wasn't counting on him to play a role in this matter, not at all.It's not that Voldemort doesn't care that he ruined the diary, but Voldemort doesn't think he's capable of helping, or simply thinks he's only going to make things worse...

"Will you leave me?"

Hearing this question suddenly, Voldemort stopped in surprise. "What the hell are you thinking, Harry?"

"Answer me." Harry demanded stubbornly.He stood up after him, staring at Voldemort all the while, wondering when on earth a man would look him in the eye—

Voldemort had to turn around. "If your definition of 'leave' is death," he said, with resignation, "then I'm afraid you'll have to put up with me for another 300 years."

This sounded unlucky, but Harry calmed down strangely—maybe it was because he was looking into those dark eyes; or maybe it was because the Dark Lord's first reaction to "leave" was death, which meant The other never considered any other factors that could separate them. "Why 300 years?" He couldn't help asking.

Voldemort looked even more helpless. "Armando Dippet, you should remember him. He was nearly three hundred years old when I attended Hogwarts, but he lived long enough for you to enter the school."

Harry knows that the Philosopher's Stone can give people immortality - Nicole Flamel and his wife are both over 600 years old - but the last stone has been destroyed.Voldemort gave an example that didn't involve the Sorcerer's Stone, which means that under normal circumstances he - they - would all have hope of longevity?

"Then if we die..." he asked again, the tip of his tongue was trembling with tension, and his fingers were secretly clenched under the robe, "Will we go to the same place? No matter where?"

Voldemort's black eyes suddenly grew blacker.After a long while, he asked back: "Don't you think it's too early for you to ask, Harry?"

Of course Harry knew.He even clearly remembered Dumbledore's description of this, "Death is another great adventure".He is not afraid of death, he is not afraid of the unknown; but after knowing that the soul really exists, he has to face this cruel reality-after death, the split soul will not go somewhere with the complete soul, and what is more May not leave any traces of ever appearing in the world.

It has to be said that it was this prospect that made him fear——

When their bodies die, his soul goes alone to the world of the dead.Voldemort is no more, and he will gradually forget everything about being alive in the long years.He will completely forget about him, as if everything between them never happened.

It is true that those things contained his greatest pain, but they also carried his greatest hope.If his life experience lacks these, is he still him?

Harry did dread this.Death is not terrible, the unknown is not terrible, but oblivion is the most terrible.

In their gaze, Voldemort seemed to read this thought, and a ray of undisguised surprise appeared on his face.After another silence, he slowly opened his mouth. "I'll say it again," the tone was very much like a prelude to a sigh, "you think too early and too far."

"Isn't it your life creed to strike first?" Harry forced a rhetorical question out of his throat as an answer. "If it weren't for this, there wouldn't be..." those Horcruxes.

Voldemort gave a rare expression. "I promise my life creed doesn't include the ones you just guessed," he continued to explain when he met Harry's suspicious gaze with increasing resignation, "don't you think 300 years is not enough for me to come up with a countermeasure? I'm not boasting — again — 30 years is more than enough."

Although Harry was still skeptical, it did make him feel better. "you sure?"

"Of course," Voldemort almost rolled his eyes, "because there's a very conspicuous way out there."

"So conspicuous? Now?" Harry repeated, wondering why he hadn't thought of it if it was so obvious.Then it occurred to him—he carried part of Voldemort's soul, and Voldemort's blood ran through his veins; in theory, the death of either of them would have to be premised on the death of the other, which might mean None of them will die.

Harry opened his mouth involuntarily.He never thought about it because he never had the desire to live forever.And he was almost certain that Voldemort had thought of it long ago, and had seized the perfect moment to speak.The cunning Dark Lord, he couldn't help but slander, and at the same time he found himself relieved. "Speaking of which, you haven't told me how on earth you got those Horcruxes back—at least including the crown and rings, have you?"

"You want to know?" asked Voldemort, before Harry could reply before continuing his comment. "That sounds like a quid pro quo."

Harry was downright insensitive about it. "Are you sure you want to use the word 'exchange'?" The lightness just now disappeared in an instant, and he stared fiercely——

He may have acquiesced in Voldemort's desire to live forever, but it was not a black and white contract in exchange for Voldemort's confession of his secret; it was his concession, it was his compromise, but it was not the Savior to the Dark Lord , but for the person he loves deeply, he deserves a reply based on the same position from the other party.

Faced with the glare, Voldemort actually smiled. "What you say is what you say." He followed suit.

Such a quick change of attitude had never happened before, it was so suspicious... Harry gritted his molars, trying very hard to control his urge to punch that handsome face twice.But it is also very possible that after reaching out his hand, he just wanted to touch the man's sideburns, because of that too sweet answer, or because the traces of time added to the charm of the man. "So what the hell is it?" He was a little grumpy, but he couldn't contain his curiosity—he'd wanted to know this for a whole year.

The smile on Voldemort's face faded a little. "I guess you've already read those books," he said, his tone so calm that he didn't seem to be talking about matters related to his own life and death, "you know the process of making Horcruxes, and you also know how to take them back."

"True confession." Harry answered quickly, and then looked at the man wonderingly, "but this description is too vague, I don't know..."

Voldemort nodded back. "It's really vague. This may be the part I'm least sure about, because I didn't think about it at all." He paused, as if he didn't want to talk too much about the past, "In this way, it is most worthwhile to infer from the production method. The solution to try. Since..."

"Since making them requires evil murders, the opposite should be no more evil murders?" Harry said without thinking, and he was shocked when he came out of his mouth: "Is this true?"

Voldemort neither nodded nor shook his head. "I tried to touch the boundaries of that spell," he continued deadpan, "and decided it was the least extensive and least impactful way to—"

"What the hell?" Harry asked, his shock turning into excitement at a speed visible to the naked eye.

There was silence again, and Harry couldn't help noticing that Voldemort's fingers hanging by his side tightened slightly. "A vow," said the man at last, so softly that Harry had to lean forward to hear it, "an unbreakable vow."

The answer couldn't be simpler, but Harry found he didn't need to hear any more.For he guessed, almost without a pause, the content of that oath—to commit no more evil murders.

Even in his opinion, this is indeed the least impact on Voldemort, because it at least retains the right to self-defense; at the same time, he also suddenly understood Nagini's description, about Voldemort being trapped-

In the eyes of the big snake, the thing that prevents the Dark Lord from doing whatever he wants is of course a prison.Not only the oath, but also himself!

The hardest part has already begun, and the rest seems to be easy. "You know what my priority is first;" Voldemort looked at him deeply, "In that case, I can only achieve the rest in another way..."

The sentence didn't finish, because Harry jumped up and gagged the man eagerly.His technique is still not free from disorganization, but his unprecedented enthusiasm makes up for it.

When the two were barely able to separate, Voldemort said with a low smile, "Didn't you say you must figure it out today?"

"I didn't say the whole thing," Harry retorted, too articulate to look like someone who was still breathing, "and we'll have time to figure out the rest of you later." In fact, he felt like his mind had never So clear, not only for Horcruxes, but also how to solve their current situation. "I think..." He moved his body, and was immediately held down by his crotch.Raising his eyes again, he met the extremely familiar red light of desire|desire without any surprise.

"Bed?" the man asked him with complete certainty.

That's exactly what they needed most at the moment, but Harry - as if in a flash of inspiration - wanted to contradict that certainty. "The game is not over yet..." As he said that, he tried to break away from the embrace that had become too hot.

But in fact, the man didn't pay attention to this struggle at all, hugged him up, and praised him: "Excellent idea, there is nothing better than this—"

...no better?

Alarm bells were ringing in Harry's mind, and this premonition of danger was quickly verified-everything he could see suddenly became blurred, and when his vision became clear again, he found himself standing on the highest point of the stadium, facing Center field.The battle situation was stalemate, and there was a lot of voices on both sides. He subconsciously looked for the Golden Snitch.But before he saw it, he was pressed firmly against the railing by the people behind him, and a certain tactile sensation under his body was particularly obvious.

"...are you crazy?" Harry froze.

"Look at yours, I do mine, it's perfect."

Perfect size!Harry was shocked, thinking that whoever looked up through the binoculars would die.However, this made the man even more excited. He could detect this just from the heavy breathing behind his ears, and his originally tense body couldn't help but start to weaken.

Literally and in fact, it was the most exciting and unforgettable match that Harry had ever experienced.After that night, he swore viciously that he would never provoke the Dark Lord in such a thing again.

The author has something to say:

It's over, thank you for your support over the past year, and wish Lao Fu's upcoming 91st birthday [hey

The list of special thanks is as follows:

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